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'Scientist's Code': Alexander Sorokin on Siberian Physicists, Expeditions in Himalayas and Marathons

Lots of people know Alexander Sorokin as a Dean of the St Petersburg School of Social Sciences but earlier, he engaged in the history of science and studied the Tomsk physicists. At the moment, he is working at the junction of several areas—anthropology, research on science and technology and environmental history, helps our students to study the local communities in the Indian Himalayas. We discussed with the Candidate of Historical Sciences what it was like to work constantly at the junction of various spheres, go on expeditions and run three marathons in different locations across the globe.

'Scientist's Code': Alexander Sorokin on Siberian Physicists, Expeditions in Himalayas and Marathons

Artem Karapetian/HSE University-St Petersburg

Research you are proud of

History of the Siberian Physical-Technical Institute

Now, I have three degrees—historical, anthropological and managerial but I started as a historian. In the first three years, I engaged in archeology with great enthusiasm and went on various expeditions. Excavations were related to different periods—the Bronze Age, the Middle Ages and even the 20th century. All of those were very interesting but in the third year, I decided to change my trajectory and turn to the history of the 20th century. This is how I joined the laboratory of Sergey Fominyh, which specialised in the history of science and education. There were plenty of projects, one of them was devoted to the Siberian Physical-Technical Institute and the scientists who worked there. I engaged in this research for quite a long time—until my dissertation.

The work on this project was very interesting. The Siberian Physical-Technical Institute was founded in 1920-1930s. On the one hand, it was an initiative from the centre: a project by Abram Ioffe on creating a network of physical-technical institutes in Siberia and in the Urals. On the other hand, it coincided with the initiative of Tomsk physicists. I wanted to understand how a group of several dozen people grew into a large scientific institution which provided the whole Soviet Union with personnel. Moreover, the Siberian Physical-Technical Institute was developing innovative directions: radio electronics, physics of metals, physics of atmospheric optics and many others. Its authority was recognised both at the managerial and academic levels.

I watched how at the institute, the community of physicists was shaping and how scientific knowledge and a unique organisational culture were forming. In fact, it is also a good question—why does one knowledge receives support and another doesn't? To figure this all out, I spent a lot of time in the laboratories of physicists and consulted them on various plots of my research. In the history of science, you cannot just refer to someone and call this project significant. You have to understand well why it is this project that's significant and where such tradition comes from. Without regular conversations with scientists, you cannot figure this out.

Biographies of the Veterans of the Great Patriotic War

At the Laboratory of History of Science and Education in Siberia, we conducted a lot of applied research as well by orders of different organisations, including the university itself. For instance, we remodelled the biographies of students and staff of Tomsk University who went off to the Great Patriotic War. There were a lot of unknown names. We collected the data about the life of these people—before, during and after the war. There were cases when we had to gather the information bit by bit—through relatives, colleagues but it didn't work out. In the end, our research significantly complemented the monument located in the grove of Tomsk University. 

Research at the junction of social and humanitarian sciences and ecology

For the last two-three years, keeping my historian of science nature, I have engaged in socio-ecological research. They combine methods of social, humanitarian and natural sciences. This direction—Environmental Humanities—is quite new, it is not more than 30 years old. Now, I am interested in how the climate in the mountain ecosystems changes and how the local residents, authorities and businesses adapt to these changes.

I was inspired to take up this topic by one of my colleagues with whom we wrote a paper about physicists. Besides the history of science, he engaged in environmental history. Thanks to him, I learnt that there was such a direction—very interesting, and interdisciplinary. Sometime later, I remembered it and created in Tyumen a research centre 'Human, Nature, Technologies' where we engaged in the environmental history of Western Siberia. We studied how cities, communities and nature were changing under the influence of technological and industrial projects of development of the Urals and Siberia. At first, the team gathered only historians, then involved anthropologists, sociologists, geographers and other colleagues.

Research which changed your conception of science

It is hard to distinguish just one: I worked on the biographies of scientists and constantly read their research papers. From all of these, I took the most important thing: any research has to have fundamental and applied bases at the same time. Without distortions. If fundamental knowledge doesn't have any use, even in humanitarian sciences, it will turn into an ivory tower. If we focus only on applied knowledge, there will be no academic novelty in the project. Harmony is very important here.

But if I had to choose just one research, off the top of my head, I would name 'Silent Spring'. It is a book by the biologist Rachel Carson. She speculated about the consequences of pesticide use which damaged the environment—especially, insects and birds. This book provoked a huge discussion and led to the development of the environmental movement in the USA, regulation of pesticide use and development of environmental politics in general.

Researcher you want to look up to

For me, a perfect scientist is a generalised character. Sometimes, workaholism is important, sometimes—an ability to work with a team, sometimes—a perfect combination of theory and practice. But in fact, I have always adored people who could create scientific projects during hard times. In science, people often think in resources. People rarely can think through global projects knowing that others will finish them. Off the top of my head, I can say that I was truly inspired by three people: Sergey Fominyh in whose laboratory I worked, and two Tomsk physicists—Vladimir Kuznetzov and Vladimir Zuev. 

Sergey Fominyh is a real workaholic. For instance, on the eve of my thesis presentation, we were emailing each other till 4 am but at 9 am, he was already at work. At the same time, he never left before 7 or 8 pm. In terms of discipline, professor Fominyh was strict but his laboratory was rightfully called the school of life. Everyone who worked there has found their success.

Vladimir Kuznetzov is like a nuclear reactor for me. He constantly generated ideas and created something. It was him who together with colleagues-physicists, created the Siberian Physical-Technical Institute which is still developing. Vladimir Zuev is interesting to me like an organiser of science. You know, after the Great Patriotic War, Tomsk lost to Novosibirsk in creating an internal department of the Academy of Science. But professor Zuev managed to do so that its branch office was opened in Tomsk anyway.

Sources of inspiration

University environment

At the university, I get the most energy from the people surrounding me. Especially those who are different from me in their opinions. Because if everyone agrees with you and accepts you, it is very hard to develop. People who think otherwise help me critically reflect on what I am working on and see it from a different angle.

A separate source of inspiration is HSE students. All of them are bright, active, and interesting, I truly like working with them. When we organised an expedition to the Himalayas, the students impressed me even at the selection stage. Yes, they have very different backgrounds but they asked truly deep questions. That means that HSE University created such an environment which fuels people's interest.

Sport

At the hardest moments, sport always saves me. I love running. The longest distance I ran was 42.2 km, it was a marathon. My first marathon was in 2021 in Istanbul, and since then, I have been participating in such races annually.

Photo courtesy of Alexander Sorokin

For me, a marathon is about discipline and planning. Such a distance does not forgive mistakes. For the second marathon held in Kazan, I prepared badly: I was sick. At the 36th kilometre, I hit a 'marathon wall'. I just stopped and couldn’t run any further. They even wanted to call an ambulance but I coped and made it to the end. Thus, any race is a chess game. You have to calculate all the moves correctly to get to the end and become a winner.

Of course, any race is about psychology in many ways. At a long distance, somewhere after the 30th kilometre, you clearly understand: your main rival is yourself. At such moments, sportsmen's inner dialogue with themselves turns into a battle. I try to keep it a dialogue. Fighting is useless: you will only get more exhausted.

After several marathons, runners have some options on how to develop further. Some start running faster, others go into triathlon but I prefer running tourism. I try to run anywhere I happen to be, at least for thirty minutes. Running helps a tourist to see the side of city life which they wouldn't notice otherwise. For instance, once, running in Delhi, I saw a very expensive hotel 100 meters from which there were wooden huts and children sleeping on the pavement. At first, it amazed me but then, I started to understand the people who I met and their lifestyle better. Running reminded me of the anthropologist's perspective: when you study a community, you have to try to understand it and abandon the usual limits.

Travelling

Any trip helps to switch your attention to something apart from the job—at least, for a short period of time. Perhaps, my archeological past plays its role. Back then, we went to different places and sometimes lived in absolutely wild conditions, so I am ready for any kind of travelling—even extreme.

I love going to the mountains and studying the isolated communities: how their lifestyle and culture are influenced by technologies, economic changes, tourism development and other factors. For example, once, I went on an expedition in the highlands of Altai. We studied nomads and the tourism influence on their lives—the flow of tourists in this region grew strongly after the pandemic. During the expedition to the Indian Himalayas, we had similar goals. We talked to the representatives of three tribes, two of which were nomadic but their lifestyle was changing due to new technologies and tourism. It is interesting to find out how the locals treat such changes.

The main thing for a scientist

I find academic honesty, open-mindedness and courage very important. Working at the junction of several directions is incredibly difficult—criticism comes from everywhere. But when the result appears, those critics come and say: 'You've done a nice thing...' Later, they can even refer to the obtained findings—this happened to me.

All of us, scientists, immerse ourselves deeply in our subjects but this immersion plays with us a cruel joke. We stop perceiving the new, and it is not always good. We have to keep our minds open—it is very important.