
Do Wobbling Muons Point the Way to New Physics?
At least, that's one interpretation of a long-awaited experimental result announced on June 3 by physicists at the Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory, or Fermilab, in Batavia, Ill. An alternative take would be that the result—the most precise measurement ever made of the magnetic wobble of a strange subatomic particle called the muon —still remains the most significant challenge to the Standard Model's supremacy. The results have been posted on the preprint server arXiv.org and submitted to the journal Physical Review Letters.
The muon is the electron's less stable, 200-times-heavier cousin. And like the electron and all other charged particles, it possesses an internal magnetism. When the muon's inherent magnetism clashes with an external magnetic field, the particle precesses, torquing to and fro like a wobbling, spinning top. Physicists describe the speed of this precession using a number, g, which almost a century ago was theoretically calculated to be exactly 2. Reality, however, prefers a slightly different value, arising from the wobbling muon being jostled by a surrounding sea of 'virtual' particles flitting in and out existence in the quantum vacuum. The Standard Model can be used to calculate the size of this deviation, known as g−2, by accounting for all the influences of the various known particles. But because g−2 should be sensitive to undiscovered particles and forces as well, a mismatch between a calculated deviation and an actual measurement could be a sign of new physics beyond the vaunted Standard Model's limits.
On supporting science journalism
If you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.
That's the hope, anyway. The trouble is that physicists have found two different ways to calculate g−2, and one of those methods, per a separate preprint paper released on May 27, now gives an answer that closely matches the measurement of the muon anomalous magnetic moment, the final result from the Muon g−2 Experiment hosted at Fermilab. So a cloud of uncertainty still hangs overhead: Has the most significant experimental deviation in particle physics been killed off by theoretical tweaks just when its best-yet measurement has arrived, or is the muon g−2 anomaly still alive and well? Vexingly, the case can't yet be conclusively closed.
The Latest Word—But Not the Last
The Muon g−2 Collaboration announced the results on Tuesday in a packed auditorium at Fermilab, offering the audience (which included more than 1,000 people watching via livestream) a brief history of the project and an overview of its final outcome. The heart of the experiment is a giant 50-foot-diameter magnet, which acts as a racetrack for wobbling muons. In 2001, while operating at Brookhaven National Laboratory on Long Island, this ring revealed the initial sign of a tantalizing deviation. In 2013 physicists painstakingly moved the ring by truck and barge from Brookhaven to Fermilab, where it could take advantage of a more powerful muon source. The Muon g−2 Collaboration began in 2017. And in 2021 it released the first result that strengthened earlier hints of an apparent anomaly, which was bolstered further by additional results announced in 2023. This latest result is a capstone to those earlier measurements: the collaboration's final measurement gives a value of 0.001165920705 for g−2, consistent with previous results but with a remarkable precision of 127 parts per billion. That's roughly equivalent, it was noted during the June 3 announcement, to measuring the weight of a bison to the precision of a single sunflower seed.
Despite that impressive feat of measurement, interpretation of this result remains an entirely different matter. The task of calculating Standard Model predictions for g−2 is so gargantuan that it brought together more than 100 theorists for a supplemental project called the Muon g−2 Theory Initiative.
'It is a community effort with the task to come up with a consensus value based on the entire available information at the time,' says Hartmut Wittig, a professor at the University of Mainz in Germany and a member of the theory initiative's steering committee. 'The answer to whether there is new physics may depend on which theory prediction you compare against. The consensus value should put an end to this ambiguity.'
In 2020 the group published a theoretical calculation of g−2 that appeared to confirm the discrepancy with the measurements. The May preprint, however, brought significant change. The difference between theory and experiment is now less than one part per billion, a number both minuscule and much smaller than the accompanying uncertainties, which has led to the collaboration's consensus declaration that there is 'no tension' between the Standard Model's predictions and the measured result.
Virtual (Particle) Insanity
To understand what brought this shift in the predictions, one has to look at one category of the virtual particles that cross the muons' path.
'[Excepting gravity] three out of the four known fundamental forces contribute to g−2: electromagnetism, the weak interaction and the strong interaction,' Wittig explains. The influence of virtual photons (particles of light that are also carriers of the electromagnetic force) on muons is relatively straightforward (albeit still laborious) to calculate, for instance. In contrast, precisely determining the effects of the strong force (which usually holds the nuclei of atoms together) is much harder and is the least theoretically constrained among all g−2 calculations.
Instead of dealing with virtual photons, those calculations grapple with virtual hadrons, which are clumps of fundamental particles called quarks glued together by other particles called (you might have guessed) gluons. Hadrons can interact with themselves to create tangled, precision-scuttling messes that physicists refer to as 'hadronic blobs,' enormously complicating calculations of their contributions to the wobbling of muons. Up to the 2020 result, researchers indirectly estimated this so-called hadronic vacuum polarization (HVP) contribution to the muon g−2 anomaly by experimentally measuring it for electrons.
One year later, though, a new way of calculating HVP was introduced based on lattice quantum chromodynamics (lattice QCD), a computationally intensive methodology, and quickly caught on.
Gilberto Colangelo, a professor at the University of Bern in Switzerland and a member of the theory initiative's steering committee, points out that, currently, 'on the lattice QCD side, there is a coherent picture emerging from different approaches. The fact that they agree on the result is a very good indication that they are doing the right thing.'
While the multiple flavors of lattice QCD computations improved and their results converged, though, the experimental electron-based measurements of HVP went the opposite way. Among seven experiments seeking to constrain HVP and tighten predictive precision, only one agreed with the lattice QCD results, while there was also deviation among their own measurements.
'This is a puzzling situation for everyone,' Colangelo notes. 'People have made checks against each other. The [experiments] have been scrutinized in detail; we had sessions which lasted five hours.... Nothing wrong was found.'
Eventually, the theory initiative decided to use only the lattice QCD results for the HVP factor in this year's white paper, while work on understanding the experimental results is going on. The choice moved the total predicted value for g−2 much closer to Fermilab's measurement.
The Standard Model Still Stands Tall
The Standard Model has seen all of its predictions experimentally tested to high precision, giving it the title of the most successful theory in history. Despite this, it is sometimes described as something unwanted or even failed because it does not address general open questions, such as the nature of dark matter hiding in galaxies.
In the solid terms of experimental deviations from its predictions, this century has seen the rise and fall of many false alarms.
If the muon g−2 anomaly goes away, however, it will also take down some associated contenders for new, paradigm-shifting physics; the absence of novel types of particles in the quantum vacuum will put strong constraints on 'beyond the Standard Model' theories. This is particularly true for the theory of supersymmetry, a favorite among theorists, some of whom have tailored a plethora of predictions explaining away the muon g−2 anomaly as a product of as-yet-unseen supersymmetric particles.
Kim Siang Khaw, an associate professor at Shanghai Jiao Tong University in China and a member of Fermilab's Muon g−2, offers a perspective on what will follow. 'The theory initiative is still a work in progress,' he says. 'They may have to wait several more years to finalize. [But] every physics study is a work in progress.' Khaw also mentions that currently Fermilab is looking into repurposing the muon 'storage ring' and magnet used in the experiment, exploring more ideas that can be studied with it.
Finally, on the theory front, he muses: 'I think the beauty of [the g−2 measurement] and the comparison with the theoretical calculation is that no matter if there is an anomaly or no anomaly, we learn something new about nature. Of course, the best scenario would be that we have an anomaly, and then we know where to look for this new physics. [But] if there is nothing here, then we can look somewhere else for a higher chance of discovering new physics.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Scientific American
04-08-2025
- Scientific American
How Teen Mathematician Hannah Cairo Disproved a Major Mathematical Wave Conjecture
When Hannah Cairo was 17 years old, she disproved the Mizohata-Takeuchi conjecture, a long-standing guess in the field of harmonic analysis about how waves behave on curved surfaces. The conjecture was posed in the 1980s, and mathematicians had been trying to prove it ever since. If the Mizohata-Takeuchi conjecture turned out to be true, it would illuminate many other significant questions in the field. But after hitting wall after wall trying to prove it, Cairo managed to come up with a counterexample: a circumstance where the waves don't behave as predicted by the conjecture. Therefore, the conjecture can't be true. Cairo got hooked on the problem after being assigned a simpler version of the conjecture to prove as a homework assignment for a class she was taking at the University of California, Berkeley. 'It took me a while to convince [course instructor] Ruixiang Zhang that my proposal was actually correct,' she says. Now, under Zhang's advisement, she has a paper on the preprint server and was invited to present her results at the International Conference on Harmonic Analysis and Partial Differential Equations in El Escorial, Spain. On supporting science journalism If you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today. Cairo says she loves talking about her research and giving presentations with colorful and descriptive slides (see examples below). When asked what she studies, Cairo says, in short, 'points, lines and waves.' Born and raised in the Bahamas, Cairo moved to California at the age of 16, where she began to take classes at U.C. Berkeley. Now, at 18 years old, she is on to a Ph.D. program at the University of Maryland to continue her research in Fourier restriction theory. Cairo has faced many difficulties in her journey, but she has found comfort and belonging in the field of mathematics and in the work itself. Scientific American spoke to Cairo about the way harmonic analysis is like dropping stones into a still pond, her transgender identity and the reasons she loves mathematics. [ An edited transcript of the interview follows. ] Beyond 'points, lines, and waves,' how would you explain your field of study, harmonic analysis? Imagine that you're at a pond, and it's a very still pond, and you drop a stone into it. You see these circular waves spreading out. If you drop two stones in the pond, then you might notice this pattern called an interference pattern: instead of looking like circles, they overlap. You get high points, low points. And you get these interesting shapes [where they intersect]. What if you were to use a whole bunch of ripples—then what would you get? In harmonic analysis, you can actually prove that if you drop your stones in the right place in the pond, you can get any shape that you want. My specialty is known as Fourier restriction theory, which is the subdiscipline of harmonic analysis that I work in, where we ask what kind of objects can we build if we're only allowed to use certain kinds of waves. What if we're only allowed to drop the stones in certain parts of the pond? You won't be able to get just any object. In fact, you're only going to be able to get a relatively small family of objects. What the Mizohata-Takeuchi conjecture says is that the shape of the objects that we get are concentrated along lines. What does it mean to be 'concentrated along lines'? One way to think of the shape of objects is to ask: What is curvature? There are a few different ways you can define it. One possible way is to take a thin, long rectangle and ask how much of your circle can lie in this thin rectangle. What you'll find is that not very much of it can because it bends away, right? On the other hand, if you take something flat like the edge of a square, then you can get a whole side of that square just on one thin tube. So that means that the square is not as 'curved' as a circle. For the Mizohata-Takeuchi conjecture, we say, consider this object that we're building out of these waves. And we want to say that not very much is going to lie on shapes that do not contain very many lines or thin rectangles. So how did you manage to disprove this conjecture? I looked at these shapes, and one thing that I realized is that the specific kind of waves that are used are concentrated along thick rectangles. This is actually something that is well known. So you end up looking at these waves that are concentrated on rectangles: You take these waves, and they intersect each other, and they make these certain shapes, but here [instead of circle waves] we use rectangle waves. So then we have all of these rectangle waves meeting each other. What I realized is that the shape of where they meet is not quite at the right angle to agree with the direction that these rectangles are pointing in. And so this led me to a rather complicated construction using fractals to arrange these rectangles. The original fractal construction doesn't actually show up in your paper though. What was your final counterexample? What I found out is that if you arrange these waves by taking a high-dimensional hypercube and projecting it down into smaller-dimensional space and then taking only those waves that lie in your region, then this is how you can determine where to put them [to break the conjecture]. What first got you interested in math? I've always been interested in math. I think that, for me, mathematics is an art. In my childhood, I was somewhat lonely. Math was sort of there as a friend almost. I think that art cannot necessarily be a friend in every way that a friend can be, but I think art is like a friend. And so, for as long as I can remember, I've always loved mathematics. Tell me more about how math was a friend to you. I think a lot of people don't think of math as very friendly. There's an analogy that I like to make, which is to another form of art: painting. And I think that if one were to take a class on paint, you could memorize the dates and times at which various forms of paint were developed—and maybe even which paints were used by which painters. And then you can figure out what processes you can use to determine what type of paint it is. I imagine this is useful in art history, but this is not art.... I shouldn't say that. Maybe there is an art to learning about paint. I'm not going to claim that there isn't because I don't study paint. But I think that math is a little bit like that—in school, people learn about [the mathematical version of] paint; they're not learning about painting. Mathematics is comforting to me because it's a way of exploring—to explore ideas and to think about them and to build more ideas out of other ideas. What's comforting about that is that it's independent of the world in some ways. If I'm having a sad day, a happy day, if I move to Maryland (I did just move to Maryland), mathematics is still there, and it is still the same thing. It's also just something that can occupy my mind. You've mentioned to me that you're transgender. How has that affected your journey? I think that it's probably more relevant in my journey as a person than as a mathematician. Being trans has forced me to see things about the world that I maybe otherwise wouldn't have seen. It's made me see the world differently and made me see people differently and made me see myself differently. Fortunately, in the math community, I think that most mathematicians are fine with trans people. I think that it used to be more significant [in my day to day] than it is now. These days it doesn't really make much of a difference. Why have you decided to go on the record now as being trans? Trans visibility is important. People have ideas about who trans people are, and I think that it's best to broaden that. Maybe I'm also hoping that people who think that trans people are 'less' than cisgender people might find themselves questioning that. The other thing is that it's good for trans people to know that they're not alone. I think that part of what helps trans people realize that they're trans is to know that there are more options for who you can be as a trans person. That's important to me. Thank you so much for sharing that. Where is your favorite place to do math? If I'm trying to be productive in writing something down, then I like to be at my desk, and I like to listen to Bach. If I am just trying to think about ideas, then my favorite place to do that is somewhere where I don't have to pay attention to very much else. I could just be sitting down somewhere thinking about stuff, or I could be going for a walk outside. I also like to talk to other people about math, which is another kind of doing math. I really like to give presentations about mathematics. I have these handwritten slides with all these colors and drawings. Luckily, in harmonic analysis, I can give a presentation like this, and then everybody is so happy, and they tell me my slides are cute. What's next for your research? I'm working on a research project with my adviser on Mizohata-Takeuchi and adjacent stuff and about a sort of different thing: the local Mizohata-Takeuchi conjecture. The process of learning more about this kind of mathematics is pretty exciting—not just for me learning more about what's out there but for the math community as a whole to try to understand these kinds of things better. [That's] something that I'm excited about.


New York Times
31-07-2025
- New York Times
Mary K. Gaillard, Physicist Who Probed the Subatomic Universe, Dies at 86
Mary K. Gaillard was 16 and still known as Mary Ralph when a boy in her neighborhood asked her what she wanted to do with her life. She told him that she wanted to be a physicist. 'A singularly unfeminine profession,' he replied. Decades later, that remark would inspire the title of Dr. Gaillard's memoir, 'A Singularly Unfeminine Profession: One Woman's Journey in Physics' (2015), in which she recounted a career spanning a golden age of particle physics, when the outlines of how nature behaves at subatomic scales were just beginning to emerge. Dr. Gaillard contributed key insights to what is now known as the Standard Model — scientists' best theory about the properties and interactions of elementary particles — while overcoming discrimination as one of the few women in her field and inspiring other female physicists to do the same. Physics was 'her life,' her son Bruno said. 'She was consumed by it.' Known to many as Mary K, sans period, Dr. Gaillard, who died on May 23 at 86, was the first woman hired by the physics department at the University of California, Berkeley, and later became a senior scientist at Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory. But much of her groundbreaking work occurred earlier, during a long stint as an unpaid visiting scientist at the European Organization for Nuclear Research, or CERN, a laboratory on the Franco-Swiss border. She was 'brilliant at doing calculations,' said John Ellis, a physicist at King's College London, who collaborated with Dr. Gaillard at CERN. 'If she calculated something, you could be sure that it was correct.' Want all of The Times? Subscribe.


Business Insider
30-07-2025
- Business Insider
Fermilab hacked as part of SharePoint cyberattack, Bloomberg reports
The Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory, one of the Department of Energy's national labs, has breached by cyberattackers as part of a recent campaign aiming to exploit flaws in Microsoft's (MSFT) SharePoint software, Bloomberg's Cameron Fozi reports. 'Attackers did attempt to access Fermilab's SharePoint servers,' a Department of Energy spokesperson said. 'Thanks to DOE Office of Science's cybersecurity investments, the attackers were quickly identified, and impact was minimal, with no sensitive or classified data accessed.' Elevate Your Investing Strategy: Take advantage of TipRanks Premium at 50% off! Unlock powerful investing tools, advanced data, and expert analyst insights to help you invest with confidence.