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Interesting facts about plastics and rubber

We come across plastics and rubber everywhere in our daily lives. Discover fascinating stories, surprising facts and interesting background information – from historical developments and well-known products to key figures and innovations in the industry.

Results (423)

  • Chemistry of plastics

    Addition is the name given in chemistry to a process in which a new substance is formed from two other substances without any by-products. In addition polymerisation , molecular components or monomers with different structures are linked to create high polymers with the migration of hydrogen atoms. This type of polymerisation is generally carried out by subjecting the monomers to heat and pressure. Two significant groups of plastics are manufactured by this process nowadays: polyurethanes and epoxy resins. Condensation polymerisation can take place when the reactants each have two functional groups that can combine with each other by producing water. Staudinger 1961, 108 writes: “Condensation polymerisation is characterised by a chemical reaction between two compounds with groups that are of the same or different kinds but are reactive, in which [...] there are low-molecular by-products such as water, alcohols, ammonia, hydrochloric acid or similar substances. [...] It is an absolute technical necessity for the by-products of the reaction to be removed in the condensation process [...] for the reaction to go smoothly and successfully. The list of technically important plastic groups that are manufactured by the condensation polymerisation process includes the following: 1) the group of phenol formaldehyde resins (= typical duroplasts [e.g. Bakelite]), 2) polyamides (nylon and perlon) and linear polyesters (particularly polycarbonates as thermoplastics) and 3) crosslinked polyesters as lacquer and casting resins. [...] (An addition to this list, editor’s note) silicones”.

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  • Micelle or molecular colloid?

    Micelle or molecular colloid? The Swiss botanist Carl Wilhelm von Nägeli (1817-1891) coined the term “micelle” (from the Latin word micella = crumb) in the 19th century. His studies about starch, cellulose and various types of protein led him to assume that “organised bodies”, i.e. substances extracted from biological systems, consisted of aggregates that were in turn made up of molecules. Nägeli named these aggregates, the size of which was between molecules and visible crystals, micelles. Staudinger 1938, 8-9 writes: “[...] numerous small molecules are held together by weak inter-molecular forces in a micelle; an increase in temperature or a change in solvent can already cause them to disintegrate as a result.”

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  • Initiators and catalysts

    Initiators and catalysts Initiators are substances that need to be present to produce certain high polymers. They help to bring about polymerisation and can appear in the end product – in contrast to catalysts (reaction accelerators). Although the latter are involved in the chemical reaction temporarily, they are unchanged by it.

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  • Letter of 2. November 1928 from Hermann Mark to Hermann Staudinger

    Letter of 2. November 1928 from Hermann Mark to Hermann Staudinger I was sorry to read in your letter that you feel your priority has been violated by the statements made by Professor Meyer. I am convinced that nothing was further from Professor Meyer’s mind than this and I myself have also tried especially hard to emphasise the importance of your fine work appropriately, not only in our work but also and in particular in my lecture in Hamburg. I do, however, consider it sensible to introduce the word ‘primary valence chain’, because it refers to structures that are not completely identical to what has been called a molecule up to now. I always associate the word ‘molecule’ with the concept of a large number of completely identical structures, whereas the term primary valence chain is specifically supposed to include the fact that the same substance contains structures that are very similar to each other, cannot be separated from each other by chemical methods but differ from one another a little in their size, so that while it is not possible to indicate a precise molecular weight, an average primary valence chain length can be quoted. If this fact is specifically added to your macromolecule, then the two terms are, as far as I can see, identical and it is a question of convenience whether one says ‘primary valence chains’ or ‘macromolecules of fluctuating size’. For this reason, I would not want to stress this difference too much; I think that it is much more expedient and much more appropriate to the situation if we agree that we essentially think the same, i.e. that the chemical primary valences play a crucial role in the structure of high-polymer substances. I consider it less important that we give different names to the intermediate factors. The main issue in the near future will, after all, be whether the positions held by you and us as well as Freudenberg, Willstätter and others prevail or whether the people will be proved right who think that it is necessary to assume new kinds of association forces not yet detected in chemistry up to now in order to explain everything that we have experienced. I think that we should proceed together in commenting on this issue and should not emphasise certain differences between our personal views that are in my opinion minor; if we did, the high-polymer community could easily make the mistake that is only too familiar from politics; that a major issue was not given close enough attention and was not presented clearly enough because of minor differences between opinions that were not far apart. I will try and find a way to come to Freiburg again as soon as possible, because I would like very much to talk to you in detail about this issue. Until then I remain yours sincerely, H. Mark

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  • Rubber chicken flies into solar radiation storm

    Camilla in the space - the mascot of the NASA Solar Dynamic Last month, when the sun unleashed the most intense radiation storm since 2003, peppering satellites with charged particles and igniting strong auroras around both poles, a group of high school students in Bishop, California, knew just what to do. They launched a rubber chicken. The students inflated a helium balloon and used it to send the fowl, named "Camilla," to an altitude of 120,000 ft where she was exposed to high-energy solar protons at point blank range. "We equipped Camilla with sensors to measure the radiation," says Sam Johnson (age 16) of Bishop Union High School's Earth to Sky student group1. "At the apex of our flight, the payload was above 99% of Earth's atmosphere." Launching a rubber chicken into a solar storm might sound strange, but the students had good reason: They're doing an astrobiology project. "Later this year, we plan to launch a species of microbes to find out if they can live at the edge of space," explains team member Rachel Molina (age 17). "This was a reconnaissance flight." Many space enthusiasts are already familiar with Camilla. She's the mascot of NASA's Solar Dynamics Observatory. With help from her keeper, Romeo Durscher of Stanford University, Camilla corresponds with more than 20,000 followers on Twitter, Facebook, and Google+, filling them in on the latest results from NASA's heliophysics missions. "Camilla's trip to the stratosphere gave us a chance to talk to thousands of people about the radiation storm," says Durscher. On the outside of her space suit (knitted by Cynthia Coer Butcher from Blue Springs, Missouri), Camilla wore a pair of radiation badges, the same kind medical technicians and nuclear workers wear to assess their dosages. Camilla actually flew twice--once on March 3rd before the radiation storm and again on March 10th while the storm was in full swing. This would give the students a basis for comparison. The departure On March 3rd, during the calm before the storm, the Earth to Sky team assisted by a local class of 5th graders attached Camilla to the payload, inflated the balloon, and released the "stack" (balloon, parachute and payload) into a cloudless blue sky just before local noon. "It was a beautiful lift-off," says Amelia Koske-Phillips (age 15), the team's payload manager and "launch boss." During the two and a half hour flight, Camilla spent approximately 90 minutes in the stratosphere where temperatures (-40 to -60 C) and air pressures (1% sea level) are akin to those on the planet Mars. The balloon popped, as planned, at an altitude of about 40 km and Camilla parachuted safely back to Earth. The entire payload was recovered intact from a landing site in the Inyo Mountains. The payload, a modified department store lunchbox, carried four cameras, a cryogenic thermometer, and two GPS trackers. Seven insects and two dozen sunflower seeds also rode along to test their response to near-space travel. The seeds were a variety known to gardeners as "Sunspot" (Helianthus annuus). One week later, on March 10th, the storm was underway, and the students repeated the experiment. Camilla flew into one of the strongest proton storms in years. The source of the radiation was sunspot AR1429, which unleashed more than 50 solar flares during the first two weeks of March. At the peak of the storm, from March 7th through 10th, charged particles hitting Earth's upper atmosphere deposited enough heat in only three days to power every residence in New York City for two years. At the moment of Camilla's launch on March 10th, Earth-orbiting satellites reported proton counts ~30,000 times normal. "The profile of the second flight was almost identical to the first--perfect for our experiment," adds Johnson. "We recovered the payload from a landing site near Deep Springs, California." The 5th grade assistants are now planting the sun flower seeds to see if radiated seeds produce flowers any different from seeds that stayed behind on Earth. They're also pinning the corpses of the insects—none survived—to a black "Foamboard of Death," a rare collection of bugs that have been to the edge of space. Meanwhile, Camilla's radiation badges have been sent to a commercial laboratory for analysis. The students say they are looking forward to the data and maybe—just maybe—sending Camilla back for more. Source NASA

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  • The life and work of Hermann Staudinger (Part 2): 1920-1932

    By Markus Weber and Guido Deussing The life and work of Hermann Staudinger Part 2: 1920-1932 The Twenties are generally idealised as the “golden age”. Contrary to the cliché, they were in fact a decade with both ups and downs – for Hermann Staudinger too. The chemist, who had been working in Zurich since 1912, started it spectacularly: in 1920, he published his “Macromolecular Manifesto”, which gave plastics chemistry its foundations but was rejected resoundingly by the organic chemistry establishment. The opposition that Staudinger faced as a result threatened to isolate him, but he defended his theory stubbornly and continued his attempts to prove experimentally the existence of the “giant molecules” he had postulated in theory. This was a project with an uncertain outcome at first and Staudinger suffered setbacks in his private life too: his father died in 1921 and he was divorced from his wife Dora, née Förster (1886-1964), who bore him four children in the 20 years of their marriage, in 1926. 1926 marked the start of a new stage in his career as well – and one that was to prove successful: Staudinger left Zurich and returned to Germany and a position at Freiburg University. He enjoyed recognition and fame here in the Breisgau region – and finally retired from his academic career there too. It was also a happy time for Staudinger again in his private life, once he married the biologist Magda Woit (1902-1997) in 1928, who was his companion in his scientific endeavours as well up to his death in 1965. Germany at the beginning of the 1920s: the war was over and the monarchy was a thing of the past. Hitherto unknown Republican freedom quickly helped people to forget the authoritarian state. “Anything goes” was the message spread by intellectuals; cities became the stage for experimenting with “liberté” and “libertinage”. A great deal was changing in plastics chemistry too. New empirical findings demanded a theoretical basis, but rigid, outdated thinking could not simply be abandoned as long as the explanatory concepts needed were still nebulous. A paradigm shift was in the air, but the “experimental stage” had not been passed yet: “The term ‘plastic’ very gradually started to establish itself via a magazine of the same name that was started in 1911 by the (German, editor’s note) chemist Richard Escales (1863-1924). Nothing at all was, however, known about how these plastics were in actual fact structured and by what principles they could be synthesised in a laboratory until late in the 20s. The progress that was nevertheless evident [...] was not based on systematic research but was instead attributable to an explosive cocktail mixed together from such ingredients as experience, speculation, acquired know-how and plenty of sheer luck.” (Heimlich 1998, 79) Basic research was vital in this uncertain situation. Hermann Staudinger did pioneering work in this field at his chair in Zurich. He was interested in “determining the composition” (Staudinger 1938, 15 and 1961, 77) of polymers, i.e. of the fascinating class of substances that included such natural substances as rubber in addition to the innovative new synthetic ones – “proper” plastics – like celluloid (1869), Galalith (1897) or Bakelite (1908). Biopolymers include, in addition, proteins, enzymes, polysaccharides (e.g. cellulose, glycogen and pectin) as well as nucleic acids, the basic components of our genetic structure, as research in subsequent decades was to show. Fascinating class of substances with exceptional properties The polymers produced by mankind (“synthetic”) and the polymers that are already available without mankind doing anything (“natural”) have exceptional properties and behaviour in common that no other class of substances can boast: • In contrast to, for example, a saline solution, which cannot be distinguished visually from clear water, polymers form colloidal, i.e. glue-like, solutions, which already move between liquid and solid states at relatively low concentrations and are sometimes viscous and sometimes jelly-like (cf. Krüll 1978a, 45). • Other properties that should be emphasised are a marked ability to swell and form fibres, high elasticity, tremendous strength and “above all the unique combination of very high stability with multiple reactivity” (Staudinger 1961, 302; cf. ibid., 95 and Staudinger 1938, 14). It was not, however, clear at the time what gave polymers all these physical characteristics, why a polymer, as it were, has no alternative but to display such properties. Staudinger was convinced that chemists had to find the answers to these questions: “The great variety of the individual phenomena is based [...] on the fact that the ( ) atoms are joined together in very different ways.” (Staudinger 1938, 5) In order to “obtain an understanding” of the properties of the polymers, it was therefore necessary “[...] to determine the structure of their molecules; the nature of the bonds and the arrangement of the atoms in the molecule therefore need to be specified” (Staudinger 1938, 9). Understanding the specific chemical reaction that led to the creation of polymers also promised to shed light on this matter. The aim was to have this process, which was known as polymerisation, take place in a controlled fashion and to discover suitable auxiliary materials that initiated, maintained and ended the process – not least of all in order to be able to develop versatile new plastics and manufacture them on an industrial scale. The four basic elements of organic chemistry Staudinger’s primary interest was therefore to decipher the “structural principle” of the polymers (Staudinger 1938, 11; cf. ibid., 5). Anyone who set out to determine their composition could not restrict himself “merely to analysing the substance” (Staudinger 1938, 9). The composition of the polymers was “basically very simple, because just a few types of atom are involved in their structure; mainly carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen, the four basic elements of organic chemistry.” (Staudinger 1938, 6; cf. Staudinger 1961, 311) What was in the final analysis involved was “the chemistry of a single element – carbon. The outstanding feature of its atom is, incidentally, that it has an exceptional ability to bond with others of its own kind as well as with the few above-mentioned other types of atom [...]. This distinctive feature of carbon leads to an enormous number of compounds.” (Staudinger 1938, 6; cf. Staudinger 1961, 85) The crucial statement Staudinger adds is: “Knowing about the composition of an organic compound does not, however, in itself involve any understanding of its formation and properties” (Staudinger 1938, 6). In order to dig deeper here, Staudinger put his concept of macromolecules (“giant molecules”) to scientific discussion and publicised it on an ongoing basis. Staudinger made a start on this in the essay “About polymerisation” that appeared in the “Reports from the German Chemical Society” on 12. June 1920, in which he postulated a “structure of long chain molecules” for polymers – mention being made, among others, of polystyrenes, polyvinyl chlorides and rubber (Staudinger 1961, 77). In this context, Staudinger coined the term “high polymers”, which was to be replaced by the term “macromolekel” (Staudinger/Fritschi 1922) and, finally, “macromolecule” (Staudinger 1924) in subsequent years. In Staudinger’s first essay about the chemistry of high polymers, which Priesner 1980, 351 calls the “macromolecular manifesto”, the central definition is: “Polymerisation processes [...] are all the processes in which two or more molecules combine to form a product with the same composition but a higher molecular weight” (Staudinger 1920; quoted in Priesner 1980, 35-36). A chemical molecule could “reach practically any size” (Staudinger 1961, 7) and therefore grow into a giant molecule in this way: “Identical or similar small groups of atoms join together in constant repetition to form a pattern, as a result of which macromolecules of enormous size are, finally, produced.” (Minssen/Walgenbach 1985/I, 16) Mysterious polymerisation Simply defining terminology does not, however, by any means settle adequately what exactly happens in polymerisation and what enables this process to take place. This is therefore explained in further detail step by step below, based on statements made by Staudinger. An appropriate place to start is the phenomenon level, because it can be described and because it presents the mysteries that electrify both naive observers and passionate chemists. Looking back on the early days of macromolecular chemistry, Staudinger writes in 1961, 169: “It had already been known for a long time that some unsaturated compounds turn into products with the same composition but completely different physical properties when left standing for a long time, when exposed to light or when heated.” Styrene, for example, “[...] gradually becomes a highly viscous substance [...], finally forming glassy polystyrene” (Staudinger 1961, 170). Such processes, that could be described as spontaneous polymerisation, correspond to polymerisation that is triggered actively with human involvement, e.g. by heating or the exertion of pressure. What is known as the vulcanisation of rubber is an excellent example of this: in 1839, the American chemist Charles Nelson Goodyear (1800-1860) succeeded in transforming the rubber that occurs naturally into the polymer product that we now call rubber by adding sulphur and applying heat. The undesirable tendency of the rubber to become sticky when heated and crumbly when cooled was overcome as a result. Strictly speaking, vulcanisation is a type of polymerisation that is comparable to what is called addition polymerisation. The definition of this is that two different raw materials – rather than one and the same raw material – combine in chains to form macromolecules, as is the case – for example – with polyurethanes (see Staudinger 1961, 316). If there are by-products, water in particular, as is the case with Galalith (from casein and formaldehyde) or nylon (from hexamethylene diamine and adipic acid), for instance, this is called condensation polymerisation instead (cf. Staudinger 1961, 315-316; cf. ibid., 175 and Staudinger 1938, 15). ( Chemistry of plastics ) About monomers and car tyres Vulcanisation is not a completely accurate example, because rubber itself is already a polymer when it combines with sulphur. The British chemist Charles Greville Williams (1929-1910) was the first to propose this hypothesis. Rubber therefore has to be considered the product of natural polymerisation that is attributable to basic components called monomers that have joined together repetitively and continuously, i.e. have combined to form a polymer. The conclusion from this is that it ought to be possible to create synthetic rubber by polymerising the isolated rubber monomer – the hydrocarbon isoprene. Experiments to do this started at Farbenfabriken Bayer in 1906 under the direction of Carl Duisburg and Staudinger already tackled this research assignment during his time in Karlsruhe (1907-1912) too (see Staudinger 1961, 5; cf. Westermann 2007, 67 and Krüll 1978b, 229) “(at this time, editor’s note) there was great demand for synthetic rubber due to the rapid growth of the car industry and the rising prices for plantation rubber on the world market associated with this – particularly in the German empire, which depended on raw material supplies from the English and French colonies. This economic situation of his country was another particularly strong incentive [...] for Staudinger to focus on polymerisation reactions like those occurring with isoprene very early on.” (Krüll 1978b, 230) In order to make it easier to understand what follows, let us recap here: the term “monomer” is used for basic molecules that form macromolecules via standard polymerisation, addition polymerisation or condensation polymerisation. “So macromolecules represent chains of one and the same basic molecule. The number of the latter in the macromolecule is called its degree of polymerisation.” (Staudinger 1938, 11) Staudinger also characterised polymerisation as a “peculiar chain reaction” (Staudinger 1961, 315; cf. ibid., 179: “chain polymerisation”) and drew a comparison with a box of matches that has been set on fire: “just one match has to be ignited to set all the matches on fire” (Staudinger 1947, 95). Carbon double bonds of critical importance It is not, however, the case that all monomers are capable of forming macromolecules. (Chemically unsaturated) hydrocarbons are what primarily have the ability to create a polymer chain. In them, the carbon atoms have multiple bonds and the number of hydrogen atoms is reduced accordingly: • Single carbon bond, e.g. ethane: each of the two carbon atoms has bonds to the other carbon atom as well as to three hydrogen atoms. As long as no atom is removed, no bonds are available to join a polymer chain (saturated state). • Double carbon bond, e.g. ethylene: there are two bonds between the carbon atoms. One is easy to break (unsaturated state), so that the molecule can join a polymer chain. Rubber, for example, has numerous ethylene bonds (see Staudinger/Fritschi 1922, 785, quoted in Minssen/Walgenbach 1985-I, 55; cf. Krüll 1978b, 240, footnote 42). • Triple carbon bond, e.g. acetylene: the triple bond of acetylene is so easy to break that the molecule falls apart explosively; for this reason, it is only suitable as the component of a polymer chain to a very limited extent. Unsaturated raw materials with at least one carbon double bond are therefore the primary candidates for the production of macromolecules. This bond can be opened (“activated”) under the influence of heat, high pressure or auxiliary agents known as “initiators” ( Initiators and catalyts ); it then tries to find other molecules that are capable of forming a bond. This initial step is known as the “start reaction”. The chain formation process (polymerisation) that then follows leads to polymers / plastics with very different properties, depending on when the process is terminated. The termination reaction can be initiated in a controlled fashion, e.g. by adding water, atmospheric oxygen (cf. Staudinger 1961, 176) or solvents. In this context, a hydrogen atom changes its position and a saturated giant molecule is created. Polymerisability and polymerisation speed do not therefore depend solely on the structure of the molecules; they are also influenced to a large extent by agents that are added to initiate (start reaction), maintain (growth reaction) or end (termination reaction) polymerisation. Staudinger 1961, 171 says that substituents “can both increase [...] and decrease polymerisability (cf. Staudinger 1938, 7) thanks to their impact on the carbon double bond. Oxygen, for example, turns “soluble rubber with unlimited swelling properties [...] into rubber that is insoluble and only swells to a limited extent [...]. The soluble rubber remains unchanged in nitrogen atmospheres, on the other hand.” (Staudinger 1938, 26; cf. Staudinger 1961, 330 about polystyrene) What is particularly spectacular in this context is that even “minute amounts of substances can lead to exceptionally large changes in the physical properties (of macromolecular substances, editor’s note)” (Staudinger 1961, 329). “In certain circumstances, it is sufficient for the reactive substance to react with a single specific group of the macromolecule that only accounts for a small fraction of its mass; the behaviour of the entire macromolecule can be changed as a result” (Staudinger 1938, 27). Chemists have unexpected creative powers as a result – as if they were modern alchemists. Staudinger’s first encounter with polymers It is worth remembering that Staudinger’s interest in the structure of high-polymer compounds was aroused in direct connection with his research in the low-molecular field. After he synthesised a new class of substances – ketenes – when he was qualifying to teach at a university in Strasbourg (see Krüll 1978b, 229 for details), he carried out autoxidation experiments on them during his time in Karlsruhe, which “in addition to a number of interesting and analysable products occasionally led to undefinable, resin-like substances as well that are practically impossible to dissolve and have an unclear composition and structure. This was his first, unedifying encounter with polymer substances.” (Krüll 1978b, 229) “In connection with his initial work on isoprene, Staudinger found out that the synthetic rubber he produced was not completely identical to natural rubber – an observation that was bound to arouse curiosity and chemical interest. He therefore began to produce and make closer examinations of other unsaturated hydrocarbons like polyoxymethylene too. This means that the connection to high-polymer chemistry was established as early as 1911. When he moved to Zurich (a year later, editor’s note), he was forced to shelve this work to a large extent for the time being due to greater demands made on this time by teaching commitments, administrative assignments of all kinds and other research projects.” (Krüll 1978b, 230) He worked systematically on making a gradual shift in the focus of his research, however: “I myself have concentrated on macromolecular chemistry since 1920 [...], starting at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich.” (Staudinger 1961, 312) What Staudinger is referring to here is the essay “About polymerisation” that he published in 1920 and that has already been mentioned before, in which he summarises and thinks through his experiences with polyoxymethylenes, polystyrenes, synthetic rubber etc. and then proposes the thesis in question, that high polymers consist of long chain molecules: “This molecular structure in particular is often of crucial importance for the properties of macromolecular substances – both natural macromolecular substances and plastics.” (Staudinger 1961, 95) An apt example: “The lower links in the polystyrenes with molecular weights between 2,000 and 10,000 [...] are powdery and dissolve without swelling, whereas the highest-molecular representatives with a molecular weight of 100,000 and more [...] are tough glass materials that acquire elastic properties when heated to more than 120°C.” (Staudinger 1961, 95) About primary valences and secondary valences Heimlich 1998, 79 summarises the situation in rather direct fashion: Staudinger “was brutal in his destruction of the legend of small molecules and replaced it by his convictions about giant molecules.” Ibid., 83 says: “While molecules with what is called a molecular weight of 300 were classified as huge [...] in classic organic chemistry, Staudinger downgraded them to dwarfs in relation to the macromolecules he proposed that had molecular weights of 10,000 or more.” Looked at from our current perspective, this was a scientific revolution and a paradigm shift, with which Staudinger laid the foundations for plastics chemistry. Most of his contemporaries failed to realise the significance, however: “The response to Staudinger’s article was minimal [...]. At this time, Staudinger was still unable to provide any proof of the existence of long-chain molecules.” (Deichmann 2001, 251) Doubts about the accuracy of Staudinger’s theory dominated; there was opposition primarily to his theories about the bonding forces that existed in high polymers. The predominant view in organic chemistry at the time was that the basic molecules in polymers did not lose their independence, i.e. they were only bonded to form a unit by low electromagnetic attraction. In other words: the existence of high polymers was no reason to give up the concept of low molecules and to postulate macromolecules, which many chemists claimed were nothing more than a figment of the imagination. Detailed information about this controversy and the people involved will be provided later on. Before this is done, here is an outline of Staudinger’s antithesis and the necessary preconditions. The basic rule is: electromagnetic attraction takes place between all the atoms of a piece of material, but the degree of attraction varies. The strongest interaction between the atoms is within the individual molecules. These inter-atomic and/or intra-molecular forces are called primary or covalences (primary bonds). In contrast to them, weaker bonding forces known as secondary or partial valences (secondary bonds) are responsible for inter-molecular cohesion (cf. Priesner 1980, 17). For his macromolecular model, Staudinger now excluded the “assumption of secondary valences” from the outset as being “not necessary” (Minssen/Walgenbach 1985-II, 13). This was a logical conclusion, because the claim was that a macromolecule was an independent entity of a size that had not been considered possible before and not just a loose collection of familiar small molecular units. With respect to the existing bonding relationships in the macromolecule, Staudinger therefore worked on the assumption of primary valences in the same way as with any other molecule. Secondary valences would only be a subject requiring examination when the discussion moved on to inter-(macro)molecular attraction. At the latest from 1920 onwards, Staudinger was certain “that standard valence formulae explain the wide range of different polymerisation products sufficiently” (Deichmann 2001, 251; cf. Priesner 1980, 35). In other words: the “thousand to one million atoms” that macromolecules consist of are “’bonded via primary valences” (Staudinger 1961, 93; cf. ibid., 77). Since this was the case, the chemist had a stable building material that made him the architect of buildings of a variety that exceeded everything ever known in the past – an analogy that Staudinger liked to use: “Not only molecules but also [...] macromolecules can be compared to buildings that are made essentially from just a few kinds of building materials – carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen atoms. If there are only a few dozen or hundred of them, all that can be made with them are small molecules and, therefore, relatively primitive buildings. However, when 10,000 or 100,000 are available, buildings of endless variety can be produced: residential buildings, factory halls, skyscrapers, palaces etc. Structures can also be produced then that are unimaginable when only a small amount of building material is available. The same is true of macromolecules. It is obvious that new properties are of course observed here too that are not possible with small molecules of low-molecular substances. The number of possible macromolecular compounds is infinitely large. The size of the macromolecules also means that they can be designed in no end of different ways, again in the same way as is the case with buildings” (Staudinger 1961, 94-95; cf. ibid., 330-331; see also Heimlich 1998, 84 and Kunststoff-Museums-Verein e.V. Düsseldorf 2004, 26). Basic research triggers industrial boom Staudinger himself was certain right from the start that his macromolecule concept was significant not only at the theoretical level or did not just help progress to be made in the laboratory. It was a milestone in basic research that pointed the way to new approaches in the industrial production of polymers too. Staudinger expected the “in-depth understanding of the inescapable connections between the structure of the [...] plastics, i.e. the size and shape of their macromolecules, and their physical properties to lead to new ways to improve the properties of these substances [...]. It will be possible to manufacture products that are adapted to their respective use more effectively than the products supplied by nature by deliberately changing the structure” – this quotation is taken from the introduction to the first German plastics manual entitled “Fortschritte der Chemie, Physik und Technik der makromolekularen Stoffe” of which he was one of the publishers (Staudinger/Rohrs/Vieweg 1939; quoted in Westermann 2007, 169, footnote 224). “Synthetic rubber is, for example, [...] tougher than natural rubber [...] and it is more suitable for car tyres.” (Staudinger 1938, 15) Staudinger’s self-confident predictions proved to be correct; the macromolecular concept stimulated material research and really did lead to an industrial boom soon afterwards: • “Thanks to the co-operation with Hermann Staudinger, the second half of the 1920s and the 30s were trailblazing years for industrial research [...], since Staudinger’s macromolecular model represented a very viable theoretical resource. It was possible to tackle specific development problems and create new experimental conditions with it.” (Westermann 2007, 60) • “During the period between 1929, when the research team at I. G. Farbenindustrie produced the first (marketable, editor’s note) polystyrene, and 1932, the group developed synthetic polymers at a speed of about one new product per day. It goes without saying that not all of them were viable, but some were of tremendous economic significance. The latter included the first polyacrylic compounds, some of which were used later on to manufacture excellent materials – such as Orlon and Acrilan – and strong, transparent plastics – such as Plexiglas. These products alone were enough to form the basis for an extensive and large plastics industry.” (Mark 1970, 104; cf. Staudinger 1938, 15) • “Global production of high-molecular materials (plastics, synthetic resins, chemical fibres etc.) amounted to 100,000 tonnes in 1933, one million tonnes in 1950 and more than two million tonnes in 1953.” (Source: www.benzolring.de) From purely empirical optimisation of materials to molecular material design – this, in a nutshell, is the most tangible progress that has been made thanks to Staudinger’s macromolecular concept and that is highlighted when tribute is paid to Staudinger’s historical achievements: his “concept [...] that was revolutionary at the time paved the way for the molecular design of functional and decorative polymer materials, the property profiles of which are customised for specific applications via the molecular architectures.” (Mülhaupt 2004, 1072) Rejection in Düsseldorf All of this was of course still a long way off at the beginning of the Twenties, when the macromolecule concept was still in its infancy. Irrefutable experimental proof of the existence of macromolecular substances had not yet been obtained; some 20 dissertations (cf. Westermann 2007, 65) were compiled at Staudinger’s Institute of Organic Chemistry at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich between 1920 and 1926 for this purpose, the results of which Staudinger presented to the Society of German Natural Science Researchers and Doctors when it met in Düsseldorf on 23. September 1926. Instead of the triumphal reception he hoped for, Staudinger found himself almost completely isolated, however: “Everyone [...] rejected Staudinger’s theory as being thoroughly untenable. Only Richard Willstätter (1872-1942, editor’s note), the winner of the Nobel Prize (in 1915, editor’s note) declared to his astonished colleagues at the end of the meeting that he was now of the opinion that Staudinger had provided experimental proof of the existence of long chain molecules.” (Krüll 1978b, 232; cf. Krüll 1978a, 48). The physical chemist Hermann Mark (1895-1992), who was another of the speakers in Düsseldorf, put it more cautiously: “Willstätter [...], the Chairman, indicated in reticent form during his final remarks that he supported the macromolecular concept.” (Mark 1980, 482; quoted in Minssen/Walgenbach 1985-I, 82) Staudinger faced further resistance from colleagues the same year when he left the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich after fourteen years of successful work to take up a position at Albert-Ludwigs-Universität Freiburg as successor to Heinrich Wieland (1887-1957), who in turn followed Richard Willstätter at Munich Technical University. Staudinger was to stay committed to Freiburg until he retired in the spring of 1951 at the age of 70, remaining the highly respected director of the chemical laboratory at the university for a quarter of a century, even though the conditions were anything but favourable at the start. Because “serious misgivings and even open protest were expressed by the (Freiburg, editor’s note) professors” against Staudinger before his appointment (Krüll 1978b, 228) – but for political reasons and not because of his provocative macromolecule hypothesis: since the dedicated appeals he made in 1917 to decide the outcome of the First World War by negotiation rather than by fighting, because Germany was certain to suffer a military defeat due to “material inferiority” [see part I of this series], nationalistic circles had branded Staudinger a “traitor to his country”. The Freiburg “Dean Friedrich Oltmanns (1860-1945, editor’s note) travelled to Zurich specifically to meet Staudinger and take him to task personally and it took the latter a great deal of effort to make it clear to Oltmanns and the other Freiburg colleagues that he was not by any means the detractor of Germany which he was to a large extent considered to be. Staudinger became a professor at Freiburg University in 1926 and was even Dean of the natural sciences faculty for a time, although not all of his colleagues succeeded in overcoming their animosity against him.” (Krüll 1978b, 228-229) Reservations about “gunk chemistry” Both his personal and professional reputations remained tarnished at first: “The rejection of the concept of macromolecules by most organic chemists turned into disdain at the end of the 1920s.” (Deichmann 2001, 253) The opponents included the already mentioned Heinrich Wieland, former holder of the Freiburg chair, a specialist for organic nitrogen compounds and winner of the 1927 Nobel Prize in Chemistry. It is reported that Wieland gave Staudinger the following piece of advice at the end of the 1920s: “My dear colleague, abandon the idea of giant molecules, organic molecules with a molecular weight of more than 5,000 do not exist. Purify your products, like rubber, and then they will crystallise and prove to be low-molecular substances.” (Quoted in Deichmann 2001, 253; cf. Staudinger 1961, 79 and Krüll 1978a, 47-48) This criticism of Staudinger was based on two associated presuppositions that were themselves questionable: • Premise A: substances or substance blends in a non-crystalline state, such as rubber and other resins, were not chemically pure. Such “gunk” was not something that deserved investigation from the outset, chemists were only supposed to focus on pure, crystalline compounds – following possible extraction from the sticky resins. Looked at from this point of view (“chemistry of pure substances”), not only the alleged giant molecules but also their supposed alternative, i.e. clusters (aggregates) of small molecules, disappeared into thin air – because both of them could only be found if the “gunk” in question was inadequately purified, so that they were, strictly speaking, only pseudomaterials (cf. Minssen/Walgenbach 1985-II, 12). • Premise B: the smallest atomic components of a crystal that could be determined with the help of X-rays were called basic elements or elementary cells, These three-dimensional structures in the low-molecular organic range were all larger than the molecules of the substance in question. With respect to high-polymer materials, X-ray structural analysis showed that crystalline cellulose, for example, only had an elementary cell consisting of a few glucose units. In view of past experience in the low-molecular range, it was concluded that cellulose was not a macromolecule candidate – after all, the cellulose molecule had to be even smaller than the elementary cell, which was small anyway (cf. Krüll 1978b, 232 and Priesner 1980, 30). It was of course unscientific to generalise this finding, i.e. to apply it to all supposedly macromolecular substances and solutions of them without carrying out appropriate experiments, but this did not inhibit the mainstream traditionalists in the low-molecular field much at all. Other natural scientists apart from chemists were also dogmatic in their criticism of Staudinger’s giant molecules, such as the Swiss mineralogist Paul Niggli (1888-1953): “When Staudinger gave a lengthy lecture at a scientific conference in 1925 in which he presented his latest evidence demonstrating the existence of macromolecules, Niggli exploded right in the middle of it. He stood up and shouted across the room. ‘Such things do not exist!’” (Krüll 1978a, 232; cf. Staudinger 1961, 86) Later on, Niggli was to admit his error openly and laugh about his premature conclusion, in contrast to “colleagues, who chose to keep quiet about their misinterpretation and took over Staudinger’s macromolecular concept that they had fought so fiercely at first – as if it was a matter of course” (Krüll 1978b, 240, footnote 44). Support unwelcome The low-molecular dogma started to be questioned more and more and the anti-Staudinger front was far less unified than it appeared on the surface to be. The physical chemist Kurt Hans Meyer (1883-1952), for example, criticised the widespread inaccurate evaluation and/or interpretation of X-ray spectroscopic results. The head of the IG Farbenindustrie plant in Ludwigshafen (see Priesner 1980, 77 for extensive information about Meyer’s life) made it unmistakably clear that the size of the elementary cell did not dictate maximum molecular size: “It is [...] completely wrong to look for the limitations on organic molecules, i.e. on the atomic complex held together by primary valences, in the basic element.” (Meyer 1928; quoted in Minssen/Walgenbach 1985-I, 88). Hermann Mark also conceded that “an organic molecule could under certain circumstances be larger than the crystallographic basic element” (Mark 1980, 482; quoted in Minssen/Walgenbach 1985-I, 82). In his summary of the – for Staudinger frustrating – conference in Düsseldorf, annoyance is expressed too: “The situation for the representatives of X-ray structural analysis was somewhat disappointing. Before the conference, it seemed as if the small basic elements were a crucial objection to macromolecules; now, after settling their role, they were compatible with both small components and long chains.” (ibid.) Amazingly enough, Staudinger was anything but enthusiastic about receiving “support from representatives of physical chemistry and X-ray structural analysis” (Deichmann 2001, 253). He did in fact maintain a long-running feud with Meyer and Mark. We will be looking into his reasons for this later on. Staudinger succeeded in providing proof that “individual ( ) molecules can encompass a large number of elementary cells” (Krüll 1978b, 232) in 1927. His X-rays of polyoxymethylene showed “an elementary cell with only four methylene oxide groups [...], whereas it was, on the other hand, an undisputed fact that this substance definitely had to consist of far more such basic units” (ibid.). In spite of this – the evidence in favour of the macromolecule concept was still too tenuous to change the minds of opponents and notorious sceptics. Staudinger had to come up with proof that focussed on the core of his theory and made it watertight, i.e. that there were primary valence bonds between all the links in the postulated chain molecule with respect to electromagnetic attraction. Because only they were able to weld atoms and molecules together to form a stable unit irrespective of size (cf. Staudinger 1938, 6 and Staudinger 1961, 317) and substantiate the difference between an individual molecule and a molecular complex, between – if you like – a genuine macromolecule in the form of an integrated whole and a pseudo-macromolecule (in the sense of a combination of several molecules to form a compound that is only held together by weaker secondary valence bonds). But how was the difference between macromolecules and clusters of low-molecular particles, also known as micelles ( Micelle or molecular colloid ?), to be demonstrated specifically in a thoroughly convincing way? Micelle or molecular colloid? Staudinger 1961, 108 says: “The procedure adopted in explaining composition issues in macromolecular chemistry is exactly the same as in low-molecular chemistry, i.e. the substance is dissolved and the size and composition of its dissolved particles are investigated.” (cf. Staudinger 1938, 15) The premise: “In view of the size of the molecules, macromolecular substances can [...] only dissolve colloidally.” (Staudinger 1961, 119) If dissolved substances do in fact take on this glue-like consistency, less is, however, achieved than hoped, because it cannot be concluded that the dissolved substance is macromolecular in structure on the basis of the formation of a colloid alone; this can be a characteristic of micelles too (cf. Minssen/Walgenbach 1985-I, 10). In other words, it would only be definite that the substance consisted of macromolecules if it could be proved that “the colloidal nature [...] was due to the special composition of the substance” (Staudinger 1961, 111). Staudinger coined the term “molecular colloid” to describe this finding: “In micelle colloids, the colloid particles are loose collections of small molecules, whereas the colloid particles in molecular colloids are the macromolecules themselves.” (Staudinger 1961, 320) Micelle colloids form, for example, in aqueous solutions of soaps and dyes (see Staudinger 1938, 8-9, Staudinger 1961, 80-81 and Deichmann 2001, 250). Soaps dissolve “normally” (Staudinger 1961, 81), i.e. without micelle formation, in alcohol, on the other hand (cf. Staudinger 1938, 8-9). This is, however, true of the high-polymer material rubber too, if menthol is used as the solvent (Staudinger 1961, 81). The crucial role played by the solvent (cf. Priesner 1980, 208) therefore makes it difficult to determine correctly whether a low- or high-molecular substance is involved. Depending on the nature, concentration and temperature of the solvent, it is evidently the case that primary valence bonds can break too, while secondary valence bonds remain stable. Even if a colloid proves to be resistant to many different solvents, there is still some uncertainty about whether the dissolved substance can be identified definitely as macromolecular. The process is not therefore conclusive enough. Staudinger himself also felt that resistance was merely “a valuable indication but not definite proof that the colloid particles are macromolecular in structure” (Staudinger 1961, 119). “( ) Determination of the size [...] does not reveal the inner structure of the particles. This question is answered via chemical experiments that are carried out here at the same time ( ), like when investigating the structure of particles of low-molecular organic compounds [...], in order to demonstrate that the atoms in a particle of a certain size are bonded by primary valences, i.e. that this particle represents a chemical molecule.” (Staudinger 1938, 15-16) How Staudinger proved the existence of macromolecules But how could the necessary proof be provided? This is exactly what the Japanese Emperor also wanted to know from Staudinger when he granted an audience to the man who was later to win the Nobel Prize: “Professor, are macromolecules merely concepts that enable many different phenomena to be explained or is there strictly scientific proof of their existence too and, if so, what methods are used to supply the proof?” (Staudinger, 1961, 115) The answer was: experimental proof of the existence of macromolecules has been provided when a substance “is transformed into derivatives without changing (or reducing) its degree of polymerisation” (ibid.): “Transformation of this kind [...] into derivatives with the same degree of polymerisation is known as polymer-analogue conversion.” (Staudinger 1938, 17) This reasoning is based on the assumption “that a secondary valence bond [...] does not survive chemical conversion unchanged. [...] The secondary valences must disappear at least in the transition state of the reaction.” (Priesner 1980, 342) If the colloids prove to be resistant even so, i.e. their degree of polymerisation does “not” change even “in such profound chemical conversion processes as esterification or saponification”, it is definite that “all the basic molecules [...] are bonded to each other via primary valences” (Staudinger 1938, 17) and not by secondary valences, which “are definitely destroyed [...] by such chemical intervention” (Mark 1980, 482). In a nutshell: in this case, macromolecules and not micelles must be involved. “Such proof [...] has been provided for cellulose, starch, glycogen, rubber and various plastics, including polyvinyl acetates” (Deichmann 2001, 411). Staudinger produced the first experimental results as early as 1922 together with his doctoral student Jakob Fritschi with the hydrogenation of rubber, i.e. the saturation of its carbon atoms with hydrogen. The hydrorubber created proved to be “just as tough as the original substance and produced only colloid solutions as well” (Krüll 1978a, 47), “which prompted the research scientists to work on the assumption that macromolecules were involved rather than micelles or relatively low-polymerised molecules” (Westermann 2007, 67). The original publication states: ”Rubber is [...] a very high-molecular hydrocarbon with numerous ethylene bonds [...]. The ethylene bonds can be saturated partially or completely by adding halogen, hydrogen halide or sulphur chloride in vulcanisation, without the colloidal properties changing, i.e. without the ‘macromolecule’ disintegrating.” (Staudinger/Fritschi 1922; quoted by Krüll 1978b, 240, footnote 42) “These conclusions about the macromolecular structure of rubber and hydrorubber were confirmed by experiments conducted on polystyrene between 1923 and 1926.” (Staudinger 1961, 84) “Polymer-analogue conversion is a method that is based exclusively on the application of organic chemical principles, is intrinsically logical and is very convincing.” (Priesner 1980, 342) An excellent example of “how scientific progress [...] can be achieved using a modified concept with the help of established methods” (Deichmann 2001, 249). The dispute about Staudinger’s macromolecules was not over, however: although their existence had been confirmed in principle and the plastics industry took advantage of Staudinger’s model, there were still a number of controversial details and unsettled issues “relating in particular to explanation of the physical properties of the high polymers” (Priesner 1980, 208). Staudinger’s dispute with Meyer and Mark The physical chemists Hermann Mark and Kurt Hans Meyer, who have already been mentioned briefly, were particularly critical observers of Staudinger’s research. Both of them worked at the central laboratory of I.G. Farben in Ludwigshafen. Mark was appointed Professor of Physical Chemistry at Vienna University in 1932 and established a polymer chemistry teaching and research programme there. Meyer, who used to be on the staff of Fritz Haber and Richard Willstätter, left I.G. the same year and took up an appointment as professor at Geneva University. Both of these research scientists had “already acknowledged the existence of macromolecules in 1928 – following initial rejection of them – but had modified Staudinger’s concept in this context” (Deichmann 2001, 404). Mark and Meyer agreed with the assumption of “primary valence chains”, but considered that “micellar forces”, i.e. secondary valences, acted between them (cf. Priesner 1980, 337). A concept that Staudinger called the new or “second micellar theory” (Staudinger 1960, 90) and thus rejected as outdated. A close look reveals that Mark and Meyer were in fact firmly in the Staudinger camp, except that they tried by fluctuating outwardly between macromolecules and micelles to make more distinctions in the theory of high-polymer materials and, if necessary, to correct Staudinger. Meyer and Mark insisted in particular that the significance of secondary valences should not be underestimated: • Meyer 1929a writes: “Staudinger assumes that association to form molecular groups or micelles has only been determined with soaps, that hold a special position because of their salt character. We would like to draw attention to the fact that they can be detected in all higher-molecular compounds [...].” (quoted by Priesner 1980, 96) • Meyer 1929b writes: “In contrast to Staudinger, [...] we observe the structure of the [...] high polymers in solution, when Staudinger says [...] that they have no micellar character. We, however, are convinced that cluster or micelle formation plays a key role in the high-polymer materials in solution too.” (quoted in Priesner 1980, 108) • Priesner 1980, 337 comments: “Whereas to Staudinger there was a clear distinction between primary and secondary valences and no attempt was made to obtain information about the nature of the individual types of bond, the physical chemistry approach demanded stronger distinction. [...] The strength of both primary and secondary valences was not observed to be constant; instead of this, it varied according to the structure of the molecules. As far as size was concerned, a strong secondary valence could therefore very definitely correspond to a weak primary valence.” On the basis of what we know now, Mark and Meyer were in actual fact “not completely wrong” (Krüll 1978a, 48), because it is true that macromolecules can “definitely in suitable conditions form micelles in their solutions too (ibid.; cf. Krüll 1978b, 233). “More or less highly aggregated groups of molecules are also solvated in colloidal solutions alongside individual molecules, depending on the solvent concentration. Micelles are just as real as individual macromolecules” (Priesner 1980, 115), although the term is reserved exclusively for “aggregates of small molecules” nowadays (Priesner 1980, 82). Minssen/Walgenbach 1985-II, 99 go even further: “The concept of chemical primary valence with its defined bonding relationships does not explain all the characteristics of a substance.” Denaturation of enzymes could, for example, be described best by saying that the primary valence bonds were maintained, whereas the secondary valence bonds were broken. Ibid., P. 60-61 goes on: “In the case of what are known as biological macromolecules, e.g. nucleic acids and ‘proteins’, particularly enzyme proteins, the sensitivity to heat [...] cannot be explained any more via a molecular structure involving primary valences. [...] Staudinger is wrong when he says that the reason for the instability when exposed to heat is because the molecules ‘disintegrate’ due to the elimination of primary valences (1926). The introduction of secondary valences accordingly allows [...] the description of more complicated structures and behavioural patterns than is the case when the theory is reduced to standard valences.” Staudinger’s concept needed “to be abandoned as too limiting. To this extent, his opponents are celebrating a belated triumph.” Differences and deficits Another point of contention was Staudinger’s insistence on the stick model in macromolecular theory that he propagated vehemently into the 1940s; he thought that the chain polymers were “always rigid, stretched structures. He liked to use long Mikado sticks to illustrate his ideas.” (Priesner 1980, 208; cf. Deichmann 2001, 254 and Krüll 1978b, 233) Meyer, on the other hand, already emphasised in 1928 “the elasticity of rubber with the tendency of the isoprene chains to form curves and to get tangled up, an interpretation that was new and correct at the time, as we now know” (Deichmann 2001, 254). What was known as Staudinger’s viscosity formula, which assumed a correlation that was determined by the laws of nature between the degree of polymerisation and/or the molecular weight of macromolecular substances on the one hand and the viscosity level of their solutions on the other hand, was a source of further dissent. Staudinger’s widow remembers: “This formula occurred to Hermann Staudinger on a beautiful autumn day in 1929 while we were on one of our rambles in the Black Forest and we then used it in the laboratory on numerous occasions to determine molecular sizes – while leading to just as many attacks from the scientific community!” (Magda Staudinger 1976, 42) Hermann Mark considered the proportionality assumed by Staudinger to be too vague and started viscosity experiments of his own in the 1920s. His “goal [...] was to find a relationship that was based on precise mathematical principles.” (Priesner 1980, 111; cf. ibid., 348) “There was an additional complication for Staudinger in the form of the causal link between his (narrow, editor’s note) idea of the ‘form’ of the macromolecules and the accuracy of his viscosity law.” (Priesner 1980, 190) Staudinger’s critics proved to be mistaken about the core issue – molecule size – however: “Whereas Mark and Meyer were right in assuming that there were strong inter-molecular forces, they continued to underestimate the length of the primary valence chain (of the macromolecule) for many years.” (Deichmann 2001, 254; cf. Priesner 1980, 82 and 208). It should be pointed out that neither of them claimed to be able to determine molecular sizes on the basis of their domain (X-ray structural analysis) (cf. Priesner 1980, 347) and that they said they had no particular ambitions in this area either: “In all our work, [...] we have considered it much less important to determine that chains exist and have given much higher priority to finding out exactly the location and shape of the chains, the bonds between the links in the chain, the micellar forces etc.” (Meyer 1929b; quoted in Priesner 1980, 108) Feud between colleagues instead of coalition Opposing positions here that were not irreconcilable in principle, that definitely had more in common than separated them. And, although “in a sense both sides were right” (Krüll 1978b, 233), the controversy refused to end, becoming increasingly fierce and polemic as the years went by. Priesner 1980, 211 concludes that Staudinger and Meyer/Mark had “no reason” at all “to compete with each other, because the former was at home in the preparative organic chemistry field, while the latter focussed on physical chemistry”. Both sides were committed to different angles and issues, which complemented each other rather than ruling each other out – in spite of “two different starting points”, the results were “very similar conclusions” (Priesner 1980, 58). Priesner therefore wonders what might have prompted the rivals to fight each other ruthlessly, instead of forming a coalition to combat established low-molecular thinking – the real opponent: “The opportunity of benefitting mutually from the skills of the other via close co-operation and of helping the macromolecular theory to make a breakthrough against the resistance of the strong group of the proponents of the low-molecular ‘aggregation theory’ [...] was squandered.” (Priesner 1980, 58; cf. ibid., 349) Priesner found out the reason for the feud specifically once he analysed the correspondence between Staudinger and Mark/Meyer, which forms part of the Staudinger estate that is kept at the Deutsches Museum in Munich: “What this controversy involved was not [...] a theoretical dispute [...], but the question of to whom priority was due with respect to a position that was maintained by both parties in a similar way.” (Priesner 1980, 349; cf. ibid., 351) There never was a quarrel between Staudinger and Mark/Meyer in the sense of a dispute of fundamental significance about scientific theory, because Staudinger’s attacks to all intents and purposes ignored Mark’s and Meyer’s “actual Achilles’ heel”, the relatively small size of the primary valence chains” (Priesner 1980, 93). Psychology and not logic was therefore required to understand what fuelled the controversy (cf. Priesner 1980, 350). “Academic claustrophobia” Since Staudinger considered himself to be the “intellectual father of macromolecular chemistry” (Priesner 1980, 250) and had the necessary self-confidence to claim that he alone was “responsible for determining the composition of high polymers” (ibid., 184), he understood “any assessment of his work that was not unreservedly positive to be an attack” (ibid., 240). For this reason, it could be said that he suffered from over-sensitivity (Priesner 1980, 240) or even a “kind of academic claustrophobia” (ibid., 330). And that is not all: in his determination to smother any perceived attempt to dispute his claim to priority at the earliest possible stage, Staudinger opted to go on the offensive before he needed to defend himself at all: “Staudinger initiated the controversy at the start and as it went on, there are no examples of Mark or Meyer attacking Staudinger themselves either.” (Priesner 1980, 351) It was Mark in particular who tried repeatedly to calm things down. He explicitly took sides with Staudinger, because “we essentially think the same, i.e. that the high-molecular substances consist of long chains that are held together by primary valences, and are only unclear about the most appropriate term for this” (letter to Staudinger of 11. December 1928; quoted in Priesner 1980, 99). On another occasion, Mark pointed out: “I think that we [...] should proceed together and should not emphasise differences between our personal views that are in my opinion minor; if we did, the high-polymer community could easily make the mistake that is only too familiar from politics; that a major issue was not given close enough attention and was not presented clearly enough because of minor differences between opinions that were not far apart.” ( Letter to Staudinger of 2. November 1928; quoted in Priesner 1980, 94 ) Staudinger, however, dug his heels in even more and contradicted himself into the bargain. Priesner 1980, 350 reveals the paradox “that Staudinger claimed he was being copied by Mark and Meyer, while stating at the same time that their theory was wrong. The only way for anyone to get into such a situation was if he thought that any activities by other people in the high-polymer chemistry field were [...] a violation of scientific rights he claimed for himself, if the person in question also advocated the existence of large molecules.” Staudinger’s contemporary, Wallace Hume Carothers (1896-1937), the inventor of nylon, drew conclusions about him that were just as embarrassing. In a discussion held in 1932, Carothers started by paying tribute to Staudinger’s tremendous importance as a scientist, before outlining his personal weaknesses: “Opinions abandoned by former opponents are presented and refuted again; apart from this, the contributions made by other research scientists are not acknowledged to a sufficient extent.” (Carothers, 1932; quoted in Deichmann 2001, 255) As late as 1936, Meyer still criticised “Staudinger’s practice of repeatedly misquoting other research scientists and accusing them of holding the opposite of their true views” (quoted in Priesner 1980, 197). The macromolecule has several fathers In view of this, the final question that the scientific historian still has to answer is the extent to which Staudinger’s uncompromisingly formulated claim to priority is justified, not only with respect to Meyer and Mark (synchronic angle) but also with respect to possible predecessors from earlier days (diachronic angle). In other words: was the macromolecular concept the major discovery of a pioneer or did Staudinger benefit from the work of others before him and more or less tacitly uncover something that had already been discovered but then forgotten? The answer is complex: • Priesner 1980, 350-351 writes: Staudinger’s first announcement about high-polymer compounds (= Staudinger 1920) “indisputably contained all the fundamental principles of macromolecular chemistry, but these principles were not exclusively original creations by Staudinger”, because “a large proportion of them had already been thought and expressed before him. It goes without saying that Staudinger was more than a compiler, but he was that as well.” (cf. Priesner 1980, 336) • Meyer 1929b says: “It is not correct that ‘the publications by K.H. Meyer essentially reproduce opinions that Staudinger has been expressing in numerous publications and lectures for years’”. Together with Mark, he, Meyer, built “not on Staudinger but on general teaching in the past, which is outlined very soundly in Emil Fischer’s work about polypeptides and proteins in particular” (quoted in Priesner 1980, 107; cf. ibid., 95-96). • Deichmann 2001, 249-250 uses rubber as an example to talk about different opinions, traditions and fashions that determined the concept of macromolecules and alternated up to 1930: “In 1860, the British chemist Charles G. Williams (1829-1892, editor’s note) expressed the suspicion that rubber could consist of numerous individual components, while the work done by other research scientists supported the theory that a large molecule was involved. The idea that the naturally occurring substances rubber, cellulose, starch and protein had a high-polymer structure was a widespread view at the end of the 19th century. Thinking then started to go in the other direction, represented most significantly by Carl Harries (1866-1923, editor’s note), who was one of the most well-known rubber chemists of his time in Germany and was convinced that rubber had a low-molecular structure.” Priesner 1980, 9 qualifies: “However, Harries too initially expressed the opinion that ‘rubber’ was ‘a hydrocarbon of very large, unknown molecular size’”. (see also Krüll 1978a, 45) Staudinger’s achievements cannot be overstated in spite of all this: even if the macromolecule has several “fathers”, it is justifiably identified primarily with Staudinger. What is certain is that Staudinger is “the first chemist who confirmed the existence of macromolecules experimentally” (Deichmann 2001, 254). Krüll 1978b, 233 stresses: “It remains a fact that they (= macromolecules, editor’s note) have dimensions unsuspected in the past that are the reason for their specific properties and behavioural patterns which differ completely from molecules of ‘normal’ size. Credit is due to Staudinger for being the first to have claimed and proved this. Indirectly, however, we owe the basic theoretical concept behind macromolecular chemistry – and thus modern plastics chemistry – to Staudinger’s numerous scientific opponents in particular too. Because their constant doubts and counterarguments are what forced Staudinger to keep on looking for new ways and means to prove his theories.” Priesner, to whom Staudinger is “indisputably one of the most important polymer chemists ever”, delivers a balanced verdict from a historical distance: “All in all, the macromolecular concept is not the work of a single person. Like almost always in scientific history (and not just there), it becomes clear when a closer look is taken that the development of human insight is to a large extent the result of the achievements of many different people, co-operation between whom is the source of but also precondition for scientific development and human society.” (Priesner 1980, 359-360) Staudinger’s position in Germany was already being considered in a similar way at the beginning of the Thirties: more and more chemists sheepishly joined the macromolecular camp, while the number of sceptics and adversaries shrank. Although this was gratifying for Staudinger, a new challenge was already lying in store for him in 1933, when the Nazis came into power: would the scientist, who faced political hostility, be allowed to continue his research unhampered or would he be unable to enjoy the results of his work? The life and work of Hermann Staudinger (part 3): 1933-1945 Explanations Chemistry of plastics Initiators and catalysts Micelle or molecular colloid? Brief Hermann Marks an Staudinger vom 2.11.1928 References (part 2)

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  • 3D-Printer with Nano-Precision

    A 285 µm racecar, printed at the Vienna University of Technology. Printing three dimensional objects with incredibly fine details is now possible using “two-photon lithography”. With this technology, tiny structures on a nanometer scale can be fabricated. Researchers at the Vienna University of Technology (TU Vienna) have now made a major breakthrough in speeding up this printing technique: The high-precision-3D-printer at TU Vienna is orders of magnitude faster than similar devices. This opens up completely new areas of application, such as in medicine The 3D printer uses a liquid resin, which is hardened at precisely the correct spots by a focused laser beam. The focal point of the laser beam is guided through the resin by movable mirrors and leaves behind a polymerized line of solid polymer, just a few hundred nanometers wide. This high resolution enables the creation of intricately structured sculptures as tiny as a grain of sand. “Until now, this technique used to be quite slow”, says Professor Jürgen Stampfl from the Institute of Materials Science and Technology at the TU Vienna. “The printing speed used to be measured in millimeters per second – our device can do five meters in one second.” In two-photon lithography, this is a world record. This amazing progress was made possible by combining several new ideas. “It was crucial to improve the control mechanism of the mirrors”, says Jan Torgersen (TU Vienna). The mirrors are continuously in motion during the printing process. The acceleration and deceleration-periods have to be tuned very precisely to achieve high-resolution results at a record-breaking speed. Photoactive Molecules Harden the Resin 3D-printing is not all about mechanics – chemists had a crucial role to play in this project too. “The resin contains molecules, which are activated by the laser light. They induce a chain reaction in other components of the resin, so-called monomers, and turn them into a solid”, says Jan Torgersen. These initiator molecules are only activated if they absorb two photons of the laser beam at once – and this only happens in the very center of the laser beam, where the intensity is highest. In contrast to conventional 3D-printing techniques, solid material can be created anywhere within the liquid resin rather than on top of the previously created layer only. Therefore, the working surface does not have to be specially prepared before the next layer can be produced (see Video), which saves a lot of time. A team of chemists led by Professor Robert Liska (TU Vienna) developed the suitable initiators for this special resin. Researchers all over the world are working on 3D printers today – at universities as well as in industry. “Our competitive edge here at the Vienna University of Technology comes from the fact that we have experts from very different fields, working on different parts of the problem, at one single university”, Jürgen Stampfl emphasizes. In materials science, process engineering or the optimization of light sources, there are experts working together and coming up with mutually stimulating ideas. Because of the dramatically increased speed, much larger objects can now be created in a given period of time. This makes two-photon-lithography an interesting technique for industry. At the TU Vienna, scientists are now developing bio-compatible resins for medical applications. They can be used to create scaffolds to which living cells can attach themselves facilitating the systematic creation of biological tissues. The 3d printer could also be used to create tailor made construction parts for biomedical technology or nanotechnology.

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  • Material emissions - when home and office make you suffer

    Topic of the Month March 2012 Material emissions - when home and office make you suffer Building products used indoors in homes and offices can have significant impact on indoor air quality (IAQ) through emission of volatile- or semi-volatile organic compounds (VOCs/SVOCs). In order to protect the health and well-being of occupants in homes and company buildings from potentially toxic emissions, EU and national regulations require that products used indoors be tested following clearly defined methods. In Germany, and increasingly throughout Europe, the AgBB evaluation scheme is used. Plastics like PVC, linoleum, carpeting, laminate, parquet, and cork – the choice of floor covering for homes and offices seems almost endless - and once you have chosen the type, a similarly endless choice of producers and quality levels can cause headaches even before the flooring has been installed. Unfortunately, a successful installation may not quite signal the end of your headaches. If the carefully chosen flooring – or the glue used to install it - emits VOCs/SVOCs, these could contaminate the indoor air and even cause irritation and negative health effects. And to top it off, reactions to contaminants in air are highly individual, varying significantly from person to person. Hardened breathers of inner city air and perpetually recycled indoor atmospheres in modern energy-efficient buildings may feel nothing. Others may be in for constant suffering while in the building. And the list of real or perceived symptoms is endless. If headaches, mucus membrane irritation, fatigue, allergic reactions, immune system deficiency, frequent infections, deterioration of pre-existing asthmatic conditions, depressions, or simply a sudden general lack of well-being occurs after moving into a new building – or after a building has been renovated or redecorated, the informed physician should not exclude a case of sick building syndrome (SBS). According to the US EPA, indicators of SBS include: Building occupants complain of symptoms associated with acute discomfort, e.g., headache; eye, nose, or throat irritation; dry cough; dry or itchy skin; dizziness and nausea; difficulty in concentrating; fatigue; and sensitivity to odors. The cause of the symptoms is not known. Most of the complainants report relief soon after leaving the building. We humans in modern society spend most of our lives indoors, depending on the season up to 80 – 90 % of every day. This means that IAQ in homes and offices has significant and decisive influence on our health and well-being. Temperature and relative humidity (RH) are also critical factors. In addition, VOC- (C6-C16) and SVOC (>C16-C22) contamination plays a role that is increasingly in focus of regulating government agencies. Many construction products used in buildings are potential sources of VOC- or SVOC emissions. Apart from the flooring materials and the glues used to install them, some of the culprits may be paints, lacquers, varnishes, coatings, wood preservation products, wall paper, caulks and sealants, cement, prefabricated bricks, and concrete. We are surrounded by a huge range of industrially produced materials that contain a long list of ingredients and additives to make them easy to use, low cost and durable. The European Union is recognizing the importance of this area and is moving towards regulation of emission of chemicals into indoor air. In the “Proposal for a Regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council laying down harmonized conditions for the marketing of the construction products” the following is stated: Annex I, Part 3. Hygiene, health and the environment: “The construction works must be designed and built in such a way that they will not be a threat neither to the hygiene nor health of the occupants and neighbors, nor exert a exceedingly high impact over their entire life cycle to the environmental quality nor to the climate, during their construction, use and demolition, in particular as a result of any of the following: (a) the giving-off of toxic gas; (b) the emissions of dangerous substances, volatile organic compounds (VOC), greenhouse gases or dangerous particles into indoor or out door air; Etc….” The European Union states that it takes into account the extraordinary importance of the European Construction Products Directive for the well-being of building occupants. The German Federal Environmental Agency (Umweltbundesamt – UBA) states: “… Building products used to construct a building or incorporated into a building must in particular fulfill these requirements that no chemical, physical, or biological influences pose any danger or give rise to inappropriate inconvenience (§16 MBO).” Uniform assessment protocol So far, so good. But, to paraphrase a popular saying, good intentions don’t always pave the way to paradise. True to the old credo: Trust, but verify. Construction products should be checked in a standardized way in order to even the playing field for producers by applying the same rules to everyone while allowing the consumer to win by being allowed to live, work, and play in a healthy indoor environment. The Committee for Health-related Evaluation of Building Products produced the AgBB evaluation scheme , which is used in Germany and increasingly throughout Europe. The process enables a clear and uniform assessment of emissions of VOCs and SVOCs under standard conditions. “These test conditions for flooring have given us, for the first time, a set of standardized test conditions for approval of flooring materials that are used for an annual verification check of the emission properties of approved products”, states Gerd Bittner of the Textiles & Flooring Institute (TFI) in Aachen, Germany. Testing of flooring materials and flooring systems (i.e. including the glue used to install the flooring) is performed at the TFI using environmental test chambers based on the DIN EN ISO 16000-11, DIN EN ISO 16000-9, and DIN ISO 16000-6 standards for indoor air. These standards specify conditions for all aspects of testing various flooring materials in environmental test chambers as well as the analytical determination of identity and concentration of emitted organic compounds (VOCs/SVOCs). Chamber air is collected using active pumped sampling onto a suitable adsorbent tube after three and 28 days. The tubes are typically filled with Tenax TA® and the analysis, as specified in the AgBB scheme is performed by Thermal Desorption - Gas Chromatography combined with Mass Spectrometry Detection (GC/MS) of the analytes. A non-polar separation column is used, which means that individual analytes can be assigned to a boiling point range or retention time range C6-C16 (VOC) or >C16-C22 (SVOC) as specified in the AgBB scheme for health-related evaluation of construction products rev. 2010. The term “individual analytes” refers to both identified and non-identified compounds. The AgBB scheme requires a limit of detection of 1 μg/m3 for each compound in order to comprehensively cover and describe the material emissions. Depending on the specific requirements, quantitative information on individual compounds must be obtained. Whenever individual compound concentrations exceed 5 μg/m3, they must be quantified both individually and in summation as part of the relevant group. Exceptions are EU category 1 and 2 carcinogens. For identified carcinogens and compounds that have an LCI value, compound specific quantification must be performed. Unidentified compounds as well as compounds to which no LCI value is assigned are quantified as toluene equivalents. Thermal extraction as a highly suitable rapid test method The test over 28 days, as required in the AgBB scheme, results in a comprehensive and standardized emission profile, according to Gerd Bittner. Typical peak patterns can be observed and compared during data analysis and key analytes are therefore easily found. Emissions from different materials are easily compared both quantitatively and qualitatively, and quantitation using internal standard, typically expressed as an equivalent toluene concentration, is easily performed as specified for the unknown minor compounds and those without LCI values. However, emission chamber test results take almost a month to produce and they are highly labor- and cost intensive. This poses a serious problem for the industry, especially during product development: Test cycles of a month can cause significant project delays with serious consequences, for example, in terms of development cost and loss of competitiveness. A clear indication of the emission profile of a product in every development stage, or during trouble shooting following customer complaints, can save companies both lots of time and pots of money. For these reasons, the TFI has for many years offered their customers accelerated emission tests based on thermal extraction, a dynamic headspace technique based on trapping on a standard adsorbent tube. Industry clients come to the TFI for emission tests during product development; for regular Quality Control of product batches; for trouble shooting following customer complaints; as well as for sample identity verification. Testing is often performed using a Gerstel Thermal Extractor (TE). The large extraction tube of the TE (ID 14 mm, length of heated zone 75 mm) can be loaded with much larger and more representative samples than regular thermal desorption tubes. “We use the Thermal Extractor to test textiles, elastic flooring material, multi-layer systems, as well as glues used to install flooring material”, reports Mr. Bittner. The samples are heated in a flow of inert gas and the extracted analytes are purged onto the adsorbent tube and concentrated on TenaxTA. Thermal Desorption (TD)-GC/MS analysis is subsequently performed following the AgBB guidelines. “By adapting the Thermal Extraction methods used to the corresponding emission chamber methods, we have achieved good qualitative correlation between thermal extraction and emission chamber tests for various materials; in other words, we find the same typical peak patterns, making it easy to compare results”, says Gerd Bittner, before concluding: “In our experience, the accelerated thermal extraction tests give us the ability to quickly establish the emission potential of flooring materials and their associated adhesive systems, as well as to compare emissions from different combinations. Thermal extraction is a valuable and efficient complement to standard emission chamber tests.“ More Informations: [1] www.umweltbundesamt.de/bauprodukte/agbb.htm [2] Gerd Bittner, Textiles & Flooring Institute (TFI), Charlottenburger Allee 41, 52068 Aachen, Telefon 0241-9679-00, Telefax 0241-9679-200, www.tfi-online.de Relevante Links

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  • Back to nature: Film coatings made from whey

    Films coated with whey protein improve the barrier effect and sustainability of packaging. © Fraunhofer IVV Convenience foods are growing in popularity, and the food they contain is usually protected by films based on petrochemicals. Now researchers have not only developed a biomaterial from whey protein, they have also come up with a commercially viable method of producing multifunctional films on an industrial scale. From pre-packed Camembert to shrink-wrapped meat loaf – choosing the right packaging is a key issue in the food industry. Companies need to protect food products from oxygen, moisture and chemical and biological contamination while keeping them fresh for as long as possible. Transparent multilayer films, in which each layer offers specific benefits, are frequently used to protect food from contamination. To minimize the amount of oxygen that penetrates the packaging, companies typically use expensive, petrochemical-based polymers such as ethylene vinyl alcohol (EVOH) copolymers as barrier materials. The German Society for Packaging Market Research (Gesellschaft für Verpackungsmarktforschung mbH) estimates that more than 640 square kilometers of composite materials employing EVOH as an oxygen barrier layer will be produced and used in Germany in 2014 – enough to completely cover Lake Constance. There is therefore a strong impetus to develop a sustainable packaging material which is both economical to produce and environmentally friendly. Researchers working on the EU’s “Wheylayer” project have been using whey protein instead of petrochemical-based polymers (www.wheylayer.eu). The natural ingredients in the whey extend the shelf life of food products, and the whey protein layer is biodegradable. The results of the research are promising. “We’ve managed to develop a whey protein formulation that can be used as the raw material for a film barrier layer. And we have also developed an economically viable process which can be used to produce the multifunctional films on an industrial scale,” says Markus Schmid from the Fraunhofer Institute for Process Engineering and Packaging IVV in Freising. Production But how is it even possible to make a barrier layer from whey? The researchers from the IVV began by purifying sweet whey and sour whey and producing high purity whey protein isolates. They tested a range of different modification methods in order to obtain suitable proteins with outstanding film-forming properties. To enable these proteins to withstand the mechanical loads involved, they were subsequently mixed with differing concentrations of various softeners and other additives, which were also biobased. “All these additives are approved substances,” says Schmid. The search for the perfect formula was a tricky process for the Freising-based researchers. For example, use too many softeners and the barrier effect against water vapor and oxygen decreases, which means that the food is no longer adequately protected. In the end, the researchers not only found the optimum formula, but also came up with a suitable, economically viable and industrial-scale method of applying whey protein coatings to plastic films and combining these with other films using different technologies. The overall process produces multilayer structures with barrier functions which can be used to produce flexible, transparent food packaging materials. “Our work at the IVV to manufacture a multilayer film of this kind using a roll-to-roll method is a world’s first,” Schmid notes. Companies that choose to make the switch to whey proteins in the future will only need to make minor modifications to their plants. The researchers and their project partners have already applied for a patent on this new technology. The IVV researchers are so convinced of whey proteins’ future potential as an alternative packaging material that they have initiated their own project which goes one step further. According to a survey carried out by the German Society for Packaging Market Research, there is not only an increasing demand for composite films, but also an increasing need for thermoformable composites. Growing demand for prepared products in trays is expected to increase the volume of these composites from 76,497 tons in 2009 to 93,158 tons in 2014. The researchers are working hard to replace EVOH in thermoform composites with a barrier layer based on whey protein. This additional application for whey protein would likewise conserve resources and reduce the emission of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. The authors wish to acknowledge the funding from the European Community's Seventh Framework Programme for the research leading to these results through the WHEYLAYER project »Whey protein-coated plastic films to replace expensive polymers and increase recyclability

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  • Courageous questioning of established thinking: the life and work of Hermann Staudinger

    The life and work of Hermann Staudinger Hermann Staudinger (23. 3. 1881 – 8. 9. 1965) gave plastics chemisty its theoretical foundations. Although his outstanding career as a scientist – doctorate at 22, professorship at 26 – culminated in the Nobel Prize in Chemistry, Staudinger has remained largely unknown – as a public figure too – and only specialists are familiar with his life and work nowadays. A series that is starting here on www.k-online.de aims to rectify this. It portrays Staudinger as a productive and unorthodox thinker, who refused to accept conventional arguments in both his scientific and political activities – until his ideas finally became mainstream convictions. Part 1: 1881-1919. “Pioneer of polymer research”, “founder of plastics chemistry”, “father of macromolecules”: all chemistry textbooks abandon their normal matter-of-fact style when they start talking about Hermann Staudinger. Tribute is still being paid to him for his achievements even though he died 47 years ago now. Just about every chemist is still familiar with the name “Staudinger”, which plays a prominent role in the history of the field rather than being a mere footnote. Flashback to Stockholm on 10. December 1953, when Staudinger was presented the Nobel Prize in Chemistry by King Gustav Adolf of Sweden at the age of 72, after he had retired from his professorship. The absolute highlight of Staudinger’s life and work, which had been devoted to basic research, the theoretical foundations for his field, combined with untiring experimental work which took him from Worms, where he was born, to the chemical laboratory at Freiburg University, where he spent much of his life as director for twenty-five years. More than 500 different publications under his name are a reflection of the meticulous nature of Staudinger’s scientific work. Six universities (Mainz, Turin, Salamanca, Karlsruhe, Zurich and Strasbourg) awarded him honorary doctorates, while he was an honorary member of countless scientific associations as well. Plenty left for biographers to investigate Staudinger has remained largely unknown outside the academic community, however. A fate that he shares with other pioneers in the plastics chemistry field – even those who were originally famous for their inventions but were soon forgotten in spite of the success of their creations: who still associates nylon with Wallace Hume Carothers (1896-1937), PVC with Fritz Klatte (1880-1934) or Plexiglas / Perspex with Otto Röhm (1876-1939)? The winner of the 1953 Nobel Prize in Chemistry was never really a celebrity, although he did not try to avoid the limelight, as we will see later on. To this day, no biographer has written a detailed, historically accurate description of his life either, to go alongside Staudinger’s “Arbeitserinnerungen”, which appeared in 1961 (see References) – neither has his life been put in its historical context nor has light been shed on his character and personality on the basis of this. This is particularly surprising, because Staudinger’s scientific and political activities happened during the most turbulent decades of recent history, influenced by sudden paradigm shifts and regime changes and – above all – shaken by two World Wars. German Empire, Weimar Republic, Nazi dictatorship, Post-War Germany: upheavals in government and society affect the scientific community too – including chemists, who are said to have little interest in politics. Positions had to be adopted – particularly by holders of prominent functions: accepting or rejecting the status quo, opportunistic and flexible or confrontation. Unlike others in his field, Staudinger did not retreat into an ivory tower in his role as a basic research scientist; instead of this, he expressed his opinions on issues that had nothing to do with his scientific field when he considered this necessary and it did not seem to him to be acceptable to remain silent. How everything began Chemistry was still far from Staudinger’s mind when he started to think about a career in 1899 on finishing school where the emphasis was on classical languages and literature. He was particularly interested in botany, but he decided to get conventional vocational training first before entering the academic world – so that he had more than one iron in the fire: since – as the saying goes – a trade in hand finds gold in every land, Staudinger completed an apprenticeship with a carpenter in his home town of Worms. A profession he was never to pursue afterwards, because it turned out that he was destined to become a scientist and researcher. Very soon after he had registered to study botany at the University of Halle/Saale, he took the advice given to him by his father, the grammar school teacher and philosopher Franz Staudinger (1849-1921) and started to study chemistry, “in order to be able to understand botanical problems better” (Staudinger 1961, 1). After the family moved to Darmstadt, he registered to study at the Technical University there, leaving not only Halle but also botany behind him: the young Staudinger switched completely to chemistry. After two terms in Darmstadt, he took his initial exams and then returned to Halle to study for a doctorate, which he obtained when he was only 22 years old (title of the dissertation: “Accumulation of malonic ester on unsaturated compounds”; doctoral advisor: Daniel Vorländer, 1867-1941). Once he had completed his doctorate, Staudinger spent another term in Halle as a private scientific assistant, before he moved to Strasbourg University in the autumn of 1903, where he became a teaching assistant of Johannes Thiele (1865-1918) and finally qualified to teach at a university in the spring of 1907 as well – with a thesis about highly reactive, dimerising ketenes. Staudinger became a professor the same year: Karlsruhe Technical University appointed him to be an Associate Professor for organic chemistry. In this position, he decided to concentrate specifically on polymer research, focussing in particular on isoprene and butadiene, in order to make progress in the development of synthetic rubber, which – however – ended up taking another 20 years and was completed by a different chemist. To Switzerland for the next step in his career Staudinger stayed in Baden-Württemberg for five years and then accepted an appointment in Switzerland: the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich offered him a chair in the summer of 1912. As successor to Richard Willstätter (1872-1942), who moved to the new Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institut für Chemie in Berlin, Staudinger was given a full professorship at the age of 31 and continued his research into cellulose and rubber in this position. Staudinger spent fourteen years in Zurich from 1912 to 1926, turning down offers from Graz and Hamburg University. “For a good reason”, as the journalist Siegfried Heimlich points out, because “he was able to observe the unspeakable acts of his German fatherland in the First World War from a neutral location in Switzerland without being involved actively himself” (Heimlich 1998, 82). The years Staudinger spent in Switzerland were not a period in which he kept his head down or looked the other way as though it was none of his business, however. Staudinger did not maintain silence in a backwater as political and military battles were fought elsewhere. On the contrary: physical distance encouraged independent thinking; Staudinger developed into a man who positioned himself in the frontline against the political and scientific mainstream. Unimpressed by the nationalistic euphoria in his German fatherland, he predicted the military defeat and advocated negotiations to find a peaceful solution as early as 1917. And not long after the war, he shook up the academic community in his capacity as a scientist, breaking with the past in 1920 by formulating his macromolecule concept in organic chemistry. Hermann Staudinger in his labaratory at ETH ZuerichStaudinger stayed in Baden-Württemberg for five years and then accepted an appointment in Switzerland: the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich offered him a chair in the summer of 1912. As successor to Richard Willstätter (1872-1942), who moved to the new Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institut für Chemie in Berlin, Staudinger was given a full professorship at the age of 31 and continued his research into cellulose and rubber in this position. Staudinger spent fourteen years in Zurich from 1912 to 1926, turning down offers from Graz and Hamburg University. For a good reason”, as the journalist Siegfried Heimlich points out, because “he was able to observe the unspeakable acts of his German fatherland in the First World War from a neutral location in Switzerland without being involved actively himself” (Heimlich 1998, 82). Prophecies of doom during the war But let’s take things one at a time: in 1917, the third year of the two-front war, which what were known as the central powers – Germany, Austria-Hungary, the Ottoman Empire and Bulgaria – were fighting against an alliance of more than 30 different countries, particularly Russia, France, England and the United States, Staudinger published an essay with the title “Technik und Krieg” in the magazine “Friedens-Warte” that appeared in Zurich (this essay was reprinted in Staudinger 1947, 20-40). In it, he stated that “superhuman” technical forces would determine the outcome of the war. The more coal and iron a country had at its disposal to fuel its armaments production, the greater the prospects of victory: “Technology did not play this role in earlier wars [...]. It is, however, already apparent from some of the wars that were fought in the last century that the winner was always technically superior, i.e. that the country with more coal and iron triumphed in the end. For example, the production of coal and iron in Germany was far larger than in France at the time of the Franco-Prussian War” (1870-1871, editor’s note) (ibid., 29). Germany’s chances had been good this time as well (cf. ibid., 48), until America’s decision to enter the war in April 1917 changed the balance of power so much in favour of the alliance that “Germany’s chances of winning had become minimal” (ibid., 34): “Separate peace with Russia, which many people in Germany are hoping for, is likely to have little impact in this respect, because the technical superiority of the alliance would only be reduced to a minor extent as a result. It would therefore be very important for the central powers not to try and win the war by military means” (ibid.), in other words: efforts needed to be made to arrange a truce and find a peaceful solution as quickly as possible. No response to the call for peace Staudinger did not make just this one attempt. At the end of 1917, he wrote to the leadership of the German Army directly and demanded a stop to the fighting, because “the opponents of Germany are much superior now” as a result of America’s decision to enter the war. New military victories would be bad for Germany in two different respects: “On the one hand, they will intensify the resistance put up by the Americans, while they will, on the other hand, distract the German people from what they should really be doing, i.e. trying to find a peaceful solution on the only possible basis, via negotiation.” (Sachsse 1984, 975). The 20-page letter to the High Command of the German Armed Forces, which has just been quoted here, is entitled “Zur Beurteilung Amerikas”; the manuscript has survived as part of Staudinger’s estate and is kept at the German Museum in Munich. Sachsse 1984, 976, comments as follows: “In view of the German mentality at the time, Staudinger’s action was outrageous. Public opinion rejected negotiations of any kind. German university professors had insisted on several occasions that it was necessary to persevere come what may.” As expected, the German Emperor and Chancellor did not therefore respond to the offer of peace made by the US President Woodrow Wilson (1856-1924) in January 1918 – the famous “14 points”. The outcome of the war was supposed to be decided via a victory or defeat on the battlefield, so the leaders continued to ignore the fact that the country’s ability to fight was diminishing, blinded as they were by isolated military successes. In retrospect, Staudinger concluded that July 1918 was the “turning point”. In his paper “Der erste Weltkrieg unter technischen Gesichtspunkten” (1919), he wrote: “The most recent efforts did not have any major impact even on France, but [...] the Americans started to provide particularly intensive support, so that the superiority of the alliance was now clear to see.” (Staudinger 1947, 53). He accused the political community of failing to heed his warning, the German defeat was “unavoidable” because of the “American opposition”: “Germany’s fate was decided in the spring of 1917 rather than in the autumn of 1918.” (ibid., 53). Because – in retrospect – the technical balance of power and the growing superiority of the alliance made “the course and end of the war inevitable”, so that “even the most talentest of military commanders was unable to avoid the consequences” (ibid., 46). Staudinger did not just call for a truce; his appeal for peace was more radical than this. In view of the destructive capacity of modern weapons technology, war was completely out of the question for him as a political instrument, because there were only losers now, with both murder and suicide being involved: “In future, a war could [...] lead to unimaginable destruction; since this is the case, it appears to be vital for humankind as a whole to find really permanent peace – a problem [...] it is particularly important to solve today if entire peoples and cultures are not be in danger of annihilation. Peace that only amounts to a kind of truce would be the worst thing that could happen to Europe.” (ibid., 48; cf. 38). Staudinger was making an indirect case for demilitarisation here, while the allies were negotiating the Treaty of Versailles and nationalistic groups in Germany were already flirting with another armed conflict in order to avenge the defeat in 1918. Dispute with Fritz Haber about chemical warfare Staudinger attributed the “destructive capacity of modern warfare” to “the tremendous impact of the latest technology in military conflicts” (ibid., 38). In this context, he criticised not only explosives (ibid., 40: “terrible effect”) in an essay written for the international Red Cross magazine that appeared in Geneva, but also and in particular chemical weapons, which was therefore an attack on Fritz Haber (1868-1934), who won the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in 1918. Haber headed the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institut für physikalische Chemie und Elektrochemie in Berlin, that is now named after him. During the First World War, he was involved in the first mass use of poison gas at Ypern in Belgium and his institute received financial backing from the German army. He defended the chemical weapons, which – in his opinion – were “no more cruel than exploding pieces of metal”, particularly since they did not cause any mutilation (lecture about “Chemistry in the war”; quoted by Klee 2005, 214). Staudinger’s article for the Red Cross enraged Haber, who wrote his colleague a strongly-worded letter, accusing him of dramatising the suffering caused by chemical warfare, thus encouraging defamation by their country’s opponents and harming the German Empire (see Sachsse 1984, 976). Haber felt that the concept of maintaining peace via technical means was wrong, representing a form of idealism that was completely out of touch with reality; what was crucial instead was attitude, a willingness to maintain peace. Staudinger’s response was polite but without any concessions: he readily admitted that “attitude” is essential for agreement on peaceful coexistence between different peoples – he himself had already drawn attention elsewhere to “intellectual forces” (Staudinger 1947, 38) – but an “aspect” that was no less “necessary” was “the material basis” (Sachsse 1984, 976). From this angle, it was Haber himself rather than Staudinger who was an idealist, if not a political romantic. Staudinger’s analysis of the destructive capacity of modern weapons technology, on the other hand, which was based on mathematical calculations, revealed to a greater extent the mind of a matter-of-fact scientist. Staudinger also rejected the accusation that he was taking sides with Germany’s war enemies, since all countries were the object of his criticism. It was, instead, Haber who was demonstrating bias – by making such outdated statements as “For humankind in peace, for the fatherland in war” (quoted by Klee 205, 214). Not an uncompromising pacifist This argument that war is senseless in the age of technology reflects not the spontaneous passion of an apostle but the well-considered conclusion of a pragmatist – Staudinger was not an uncompromising pacifist. “Our ancestors had no choice but to drive out their neighbours and obtain more land and thus more space to expand into”, he wrote in 1917 in the essay “Technik und Krieg” (Staudinger 1947, 35; cf. 101) that has already been mentioned. There was even talk of the “right” of earlier generations “to wage a bloody war about the place in the sun” (ibid., 35). “In the technical age, on the other hand, these old ideas about the necessity of wars – which have brought such profound misery to Europe – must be abandoned” (ibid., 101). Staudinger rejected the fatalistic attitude “that there have always been wars and that wars are unlikely to stop in future either in view of the nature of humankind” (Staudinger 1947, 101), because anyone who followed this argument was accepting the possibility of “peoples being destroyed” (ibid., 101) in tomorrow’s world. “Hoping for a war-free future” was encouraged for him specifically by the contemporary “prophecies” claiming “that we [...] are facing a time of particularly bitter fighting” (ibid., 38). This was no paradox – Staudinger was hoping that the destructive capacity of high-tech armies would have a deterrent effect. This was based on the confidence that humankind would be sensible enough to avoid the abyss of self-destruction. The Second World War eliminated much of the basis for such optimism, but at the same time confirmed that Staudinger’s warnings were as important and relevant as ever. As early as 1919, he suspected that his calls for a framework for stable, lasting peace would probably bear little fruit. “It is tragic [...] to see that Germany, for which a policy of reconciliation between different peoples would have been so important in view of its location and natural resources, relied most firmly on military aggression, whereas America – the only country that could have allowed itself to adopt such a policy thanks to its riches – has been trying for decades now to promote peaceful coexistence – to no avail, unfortunately.” (ibid., 54) Good technology, bad technology If Staudinger is right in saying that war is escalating because of modern technology, then is such technology not evil in itself, so that war should in turn be declared on it too? No, because then it would not be possible to enjoy the benefits of peaceful use of the technology. Staudinger countered technophobic arguments of this kind by outlining a vision of “controlled” technology, that offered excellent “potential for life and development” now and in future (ibid., 101): “Thanks to technology, more people can live on a limited amount of land nowadays and they can enjoy an easier life than a smaller number of people on the same amount of land in the ‘good old days’” (ibid.; cf. 103). It was not technology as such that was evil, but the abuse of it; although technology added incredible destructive potential to wars, they could not be vindicated for this very reason: “There is no justification for wars any more [...]” (ibid., 101). According to Sachsse 1984, 976, Staudinger was disappointed by the response to his political publications: “Even though they were extremely relevant, they were not well-known and attracted little attention”. In contrast to the trailblazing publications in the polymer chemistry field, which caused a stir and led to fierce controversy from 1920 onwards – more about this in the next part of this short series about Staudinger. Hermann Staudinger“Pioneer of polymer research”, “founder of plastics chemistry”, “father of macromolecules”: all chemistry textbooks abandon their normal matter-of-fact style when they start talking about Hermann Staudinger. Tribute is still being paid to him for his achievements even though he died 47 years ago now. Just about every chemist is still familiar with the name “Staudinger”, which plays a prominent role in the history of the field rather than being a mere footnote. To be continued in our "Topic of the Month April 2012": the life and work of Hermann Staudinger, Part 2. The life and work of Hermann Staudinger (Part 2): 1920-1932 Copyright: Guido Deußing / Dr. Markus Weber Redaktionsbüro Guido Deußing Presse Text Kommunikation Uhlandstraße 16 41464 Neuss E-Mail guido.deussing@pressetextkom.de

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  • Wireless monitoring of organ functions with electronic plastic plaster

    Quelle: UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS, USA Plastics technology and electrical engineering have never been two different worlds. There has, however, been a classic allocation of roles between them, with the result that plastics have up to now focussed on their insulation properties, because electricity has always been an obstacle where plastics are concerned. This has changed since conductive polymers have been available: the two different fields, which used to concentrate on different areas, are now opening up new functions for each other and are establishing a research field known as plastic electronics, organic electronics or polytronics. Polydimethylsiloxane (PDMS), a long-chain organic compound from the silicone family – colourless, transparent, non-toxic and chemically inert – is one of the prominent representatives of the new generation of plastics. PDMS acts as a substrate material for microelectronic components, e.g. sensors or processors, that are either made of plastic themselves or – in most cases – are produced conventionally from metal. The hybrid version is spectacular in itself; it is paving the way for promising innovations in medical applications in particular – wherever ultralight, mechanically flexible solutions are required. An excellent example of this is what is known as the Electronic Epidermal System (EES), which has been developed by an international team of material research scientists and engineers headed by John A. Rogers and Dae-Hyeong Kim from the University of Illinois in Urbana/USA. EES involves an electronic plaster that is applied to the skin to carry out medical diagnostics and to monitor organ functions (health monitoring), i.e. to measure pulse frequency, brainwaves and blood pressure as well as to record and transmit data. The plaster consists of three layers: a layer of metal is laminated between two layers of PDMS film. The metal layer incorporates – for example – the highly sensitive sensors, a transmitter and solar cells as an energy source (instead of a battery). These electronic components are extremely small and are spirally wound like wire mesh so that adapt flexibly to every movement of the body without damage – like the plastic jacketing. “Conventional electronics consist essentially of a silicone chip, which is normally very fragile and does not even fit on this soft, elastic surface. The thinner the silicone chip, however, the better it can be bent”, says John A. Rogers. The electronic plaster is only about half as thick as a human hair and is exceptionally light at less than 100 milligrams. It is transparent, permeable to air and sticks to the skin without any adhesive being needed. The film is merely wettened with some water and adheres thanks to what is known as van der Waals interaction, with the help of which such creatures as geckos are famous for being able to walk along walls and ceilings without falling off. Although the plaster is rugged and easy on the skin, it still has to be replaced roughly every two weeks, because the cells of the epidermis are being sloughed off all the time and this can weaken the bond. The electronics cannot be used again once they have been removed; there is further scope for optimisation of the system here. Cordless data transmission The research scientists initially tested the EES successfully on the chest (measurement of electrical activity of the heart) and forehead (brainwaves). The readings were exactly the same as those obtained via conventional measurement technology for the purposes of comparison. The advantage EES has over existing systems is its wider range of potential everyday uses, particularly in long-term applications (e.g. ECG), because data are transmitted wirelessly – that at least is the plan. The scientists from Illinois started off by using ultrathin wires that led from the electronic sticking plaster to a data recorder. Wireless transmission works too, if the circuits for the radio connection are integrated in the skin measurement system. Scientists from Uppsala in Sweden have already reported success in doing this: they have developed an electronic plaster that transmits the readings via radio (Bluetooth). The polytronic plaster was originally developed for robotics, where the sensors transmit signals to, for example, gripper arms. EES is therefore likely to be useful for people with artificial limbs too. EES has more potential than just this, however. Located on the lower arm, the leg or the neck, the invention registers minute muscle contractions. The vision linked to this is to give paraplegics or patients with neurological disorders greater mobility or to facilitate communication. Success has already been achieved with a sensor plaster attached to the throat that converts muscle signals into direction commands for computer games. Computers could also translate such mini-impulses into a rudimentary language. This would make EES the interface between people and machines. The research scientists are of the opinion that this new era has already begun. John A. Rogers thinks that polytronics are blurring the distinction between electronics and biology to an increasing extent. GD Source Dae-Hyeong Kim, et alii: Epidermal Electronics. Science 2011, vol. 333, no. 6044, pp. 838-843; www.sciencemag.org/content/333/6044/838.summary

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  • Out on the open see in a folding rubber kayak

    Messe Düsseldorf is holding “boot”, the biggest yachting and water sports trade fair in the world, this year between 21. and 29. January 2012. 1,600 exhibitors from 60 countries are showcasing everything that water sports enthusiasts are keen to see, from A for air mattresses to B for boat equipment and C for charter trips. The organisers of “boot” have again come up with plenty of different ways to make visitors’ stay on the exhibition site as interesting and varied as possible – including opportunities to try out diving (in a huge water tank) or skimboarding as well as to consult a frontloop trainer. The exhibitors of exclusive yachts also anticipate large crowds, even though most visitors with normal incomes will only be able to dream about owning one due to their incredibly high prices. Anyone can become the captain of a boat of his own nowadays, however – for comparatively little money! This is mainly thanks to the innovator Alfred Heurich (1883 – 1967) and the tailor Johann Klepper (1868 – 1949), who was more skilled than anyone else at folding rubber. Who hasn’t ever dreamed of standing on the wooden boards of a boat at the coast with his eyes closed and a sea breeze blowing and of having all the time in the world to go on an expedition across the vast expanses of the ocean – without knowing where he would end up and when he would return? People have always had an emotional attraction to the sea. It worries us when dark clouds start to form in the distance and the horizon disappears in a blur of water. When the air is crystal clear, the water is calm and the sky is cloudless, on the other hand, we have an insatiable longing for faraway places. While it is not unusual for love affairs to start on the beach watching the sunset reflected in surface of the water ... Whatever reason people have for going to, into, onto or under the sea – what they all have in common in some way or other is a passion for water. What exactly drove Alfred Heurich, who was born in Merz, Lorraine, in 1883? The records show that he was interested in kayaks – fast, manoeuvrable boats in which Eskimos have always gone hunting. What Heurich did not like about the Eskimos’ original kayaks was their cumbersome design: the basic structure was made of wood and bone, over which the Inuit – as the Eskimos are also known – stretched animal skins. Heurich, who wanted a more easily handled kind of boat, used his imagination to design a kayak that met his requirements precisely: it could be folded up in a matter of minutes and could be transported from A to B by hand or train without any great effort or cost. When the destination was reached, all that was needed was a little skill and a few operations to put a boat with enough space for two people into the water that was suitable for the high seas, as history shows. The creative innovator and his “Luftikus” It was on 30. May 1905, a beautiful spring day, much too warm for the time of year. In Central Europe, the thermometer had topped the 25°C mark considerably and the only place where there was even a slight chance of rain was near the coast. The troops of the Ottoman Empire were battling hard with those of the Kingdom of Montenegro and Albert Einstein was looking forward to the publication of his special relativity theory in Switzerland. In the spa of Bad Tölz, the architecture student Alfred Heurich went to the River Isar for the maiden voyage of what he called his “Luftikus”. In German, the word “Luftikus” makes one think more of an inflated car tyre than of a boat, particularly since it wasn’t even recognisable as such to start with. Then, however, Heurich took a large piece of waterproof sailcloth from his rucksack and pulled a number of bamboo rods out of a narrow container that was a man’s height. The architecture student made a skeletal framework out of the rods and stretched the sailcloth over them. Heurich had finished everything that needed to be done within a good quarter of an hour. With some trepidation, he went down to the water and pushed the four-and-a-half-metre-long, folding boat that resembled an Eskimo kayak off the shore, getting into the open hull of the boat at the same time. And it floated rather than sinking. Delighted about this tremendous initial success, Heurich set off for Munich on the river, reaching the city 50 kilometres away after paddling for five hours. He described his memories of this trip as follows later on: “The trip on the Isar – where the water was high – was a very risky undertaking. I was in serious danger three times, but got out of the situations each time by keeping cool and making quick and determined decisions”. Before his death, Alfred Heurich is said to have travelled more than 100,000 kilometres in folding kayaks that he himself had built. Was he aware of the importance of his invention at the time when he went on the maiden voyage of the “Luftikus”? He did at any rate fail to link his name inextricably with the concept of the folding kayak and did not participate to anything like an appropriate extent in the success that folding kayaks enjoyed in the subsequent years and decades. The man that became famous instead was the tailor and sports goods retailer Johann Klepper, who acquired the licence to produce a second-generation folding kayak called the “Delphin” in series from Heurich in 1907. The company that goes back to Klepper – Klepper Faltbootwerft AG – is now one of the world’s leading manufacturers. The details always make the difference By the way: folding kayaks are not a modern invention. The Armenians are said to have transported goods to Babylon in collapsible boats made from wood, bone and animal skins as long ago as 500 BC. The Unangans, the indigenous inhabitants of the Aleutian Islands – a group of islands that are now part of Alaska – used kayaks known as baidarkas. Although they were not collapsible like the folding boats used by the Armenians, they did consist of a comparable framework made from drift wood and bones with animal skins stretched over it. The Unangans went hunting for sea lions in the Bering Sea in their baidarkas, which are said to resemble modern folding kayaks most closely in their size and shape. The way the folding kayak works that Alfred Heurich designed on the basis of the Eskimo kayak and the Armenian baikarka and that Johann Klepper was later successful in selling all over the world has hardly changed at all to this day. In simplified form, the description is as follows: as soon as the paddler has sat down in the folding kayak after it has been put into the water, the lateral pressure exerted by the water is transferred from the sailcloth cover to the stem – the upward extension of the keel – as a result of the counterpressure exerted by the thin longitudinal slats and the transverse ribbing. The tension created as a result, which is comparable to the architectural principle of the Gothic ogive, gives the boat its resistance. Heurich was particularly keen not only on a stable design for the framework of the boat but also on flexible sides for the boat, which were not supposed to consist of animal skins any longer. The new material needed to repel water reasonably well or – ideally – be waterproof, while it was at the same time required to be flexible enough so that it could, on the one hand, be pulled over the frame of the boat and so that it was, on the other hand, stable enough not to tear or be damaged in other ways even in contact with solid ground underneath it. It was also supposed to be of a size and weight that enabled it to be carried and manoeuvred easily. Heurich opted for sailcloth, a fabric tightly and firmly woven from a strong yarn that repels water to a reasonable extent. The sailcloth was rubberised to make it waterproof. This is done by applying an elastic layer of rubber to the substrate material and vulcanising it by adding sulphur. The process starts by applying the bonding agent to the clean surface of the sailcloth. After the rubber layer has dried, it is vulcanised in hot air or with saturated steam at about 130°C. Depending on the compound and the thickness of the layer, the vulcanisation operation can take between 30 minutes and 24 hours. Rubberisation is still carried out today wherever equipment, containers and pipes need to be protected against corrosion, oils, fats, waxes, acids and lyes or surfaces are expected to demonstrate elastic recovery, abrasion resistance and stretchability properties. Across the ocean in a folding kayak Although their name alone suggests that they are not particularly stable and really able to cope with all weather conditions, folding kayaks have been used to complete a number of spectacular voyages – not just on inland waterways but also and above all on the high seas. In his book entitled “Voyage from fjord to fjord in a folding kayak”, for example, Erich Wustmann describes the journey he took from Schleswig-Holstein through the North Sea and up the West Coast of Norway that lasted into the winter of 1926. In 1928, Captain Franz Romer, who was born in Konstanz, was the first person to cross the Atlantic in a Klepper folding kayak; for this project, he used a boat that included a sail, starting in Lisbon and stopping in such places as Puerto Rico before disappearing on his way to New York – since then Romer has been registered as missing. Oskar Speck even chose a trip that was much longer. In 1932, the German left Ulm alone in a folding kayak and paddled to Cyprus to work there. However, he then paddled on through the Suez Canal to Australia, where he arrived in 1939 after about seven years and was interned as a German prisoner of war until 1945; the boat in which Speck made his voyage is on show at the National Maritime Museum in Sydney. Talking of museums: the Aerius II Klepper folding kayak (5.20 metres long) used by the German doctor Dr Hannes Lindemann to cross the Atlantic unharmed in 72 days in 1956 is on show at the Deutsches Museum in Munich. Lindemann regularly attracted publicity for years thanks to his Atlantic crossings in smaller and smaller boats. It is certainly the case that the folding kayaks used in the early days differ significantly in looks and technology from those in which British soldiers landed on the Falkland Islands in 1982 undetected by the Argentinian radar systems and established the first beachhead for the subsequent invasion. Not to mention the folding kayaks that are now being exhibited at “boot” in 2012. High-tech materials are used for the boat structure and surface in particular: the internal framework consists of wood, carbon fibre or aluminium, while the waterproof skin is made from Hypalon (chlorosulfanated polyethylene, CSM), a high-quality, extremely UV-resistant, temperature-resistant, non-ageing and tear-resistant elastomer, and/or polyurethane (PU), a plastic that can be used for many different purposes and that we will be reporting about here at a later date. PS: If this article has whet your appetite for taking to the water: everything you need to know about the biggest yachting and water sports trade fair in the world can be found at www.boot.de. The Klepper company is one of the exhibitors there too, incidentally (Hall 13, Stand D 90), or can be found in the Internet at www.klepper.de. Copyright: Guido Deußing

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