So Peter Higgs finally got the Nobel Prize he so richly deserved. He was lucky. Many worthy candidates, such as Neil Bartlett and the other discoverers of noble gas compounds, waited many years in ever-growing disappointment for an award that never came. I knew one scientist whose otherwise brilliant career was poisoned by his failure to get a Nobel Prize. What is so magically mesmerizing about such prizes?  

Back in 2008, Senator John McCain proposed that the nation offer a $300,000,000 prize for the first practical electric-car battery. This idea was challenged by complaints that such money would be better invested in R&D grants. But which type of stimulus is really more cost-effective?

Big federal programs usually succeed if the motivation is strong enough. The Manhattan Project and John F. Kennedy's man-on-the-moon program met their goals because they were perceived to be urgently needed. But several major energy projects, such as the Flat Plate Solar Array and Shiva-Nova programs, are considered by many to have been expensive failures.

In contrast, the awarding of prizes, which confer both remuneration and prestige, can be an amazingly effective stimulus. The $1,500,000 Nobel Prizes have been the lifelong objective of many scientists. The much more modest Kremer Prizes have induced airplane innovators like Paul McCready to devote their lives to winning them. Probably the greatest bang-per-buck was achieved by Richard Feynman, who, during his famous "Plenty of Room at the Bottom" lecture, offered two quickly-won $1,000 prizes that may well be said to have launched the nanotechnology age.

In the light of this performance record, McCain's proposal seemed quite reasonable. To quote one aspirant:

Offering this prize is a great way to focus attention on the problem and get the dialogue going on how we will solve it. I would love to compete for this prize, and the wheels are turning in my mind.

Unfortunately, even if such a prize is eventually established, it will be several decades too late. Had it been offered in 1990, we would probably be driving electric cars today. Here's the story:

In the 1980's, a small R&D company, which I'll call "Batterico" developed seven innovations in lead-acid battery design that collectively raised the power-per-pound efficiency from the usual 24% of theoretical limit to 48%, with 75% as a reasonable goal. This improvement would probably have been sufficient to make electric autos commercially viable.

Since one of their innovations required a ceramic powder that I had developed, I became a subcontractor and front-row observer of Batterico's struggles. They first tried to negotiate a joint venture with another battery company, but their would-be collaborator ran into financial difficulties and backed out. Then, Batterico sought backing from venture capital firms. These efforts led to endless rounds of lengthy meetings which ultimately came to nothing. Meanwhile, Batterico's president was borrowing money to keep going. And this, I think, was the critical error, because the deeper they got into debt, the less attractive the company seemed to any legitimate investor.

Finally, they got a nibble from a Chinese entrepreneur*. His agents visited them and tried to extract as much proprietary information as possible. After several months, it turned out that he had no real backing and was trying to use Batterico as leverage to get Chinese backing. The collapse of this deal was the last straw. Batterico was hopelessly in debt and declared bankruptcy.

Admittedly, Batterico's history is a classic lesson on how not to launch a major innovation. But the point I want to make is that, if McCain's prize had been around then, the story could have ended differently. The added emotional stimulus and financial incentive would have inspired collaborators and investors to keep Battierico going, in the hope of sharing in the prize money and glory.

But to return to Higgs: he has already been honored with numerous other awards, including the 1981 Hughes Medal from the Royal Society, the 1984 Rutherford Medal, the 1997 Dirac Medal,  the 1997 High Energy and Particle Physics Prize, the 2004 Wolf Prize in Physics, and a 2010 American Physical Society Prize among others. Yet there's nothing like a Nobel Prize. Why?

It may be the renown. Almost all of us relish a little public recognition of our achievements. Many never heard of Higgs before and very few knew about his previous awards. Only the Nobel prizes make the headlines, and even then only briefly.

Or it may be the pomp. Scientific awards are usually pedestrian and private affairs. But a trip to Sweden and a handshake from a king is something to savor and remember. And because of it, Higgs can confidently look forward to a knighthood conferred by a queen.

American scientists generally receive, at best, obscure recognition by their peers. They are denied the red carpets, splendor, and acclaim we reserve for movie stars and athletes. Their only hope for glory is a Nobel Prize, which very few will come near to achieving. It is embarrassing that America has no scientific prizes that match Sweden's in glamor and renown. Instead, we have Oscars, Emmys, Tonys, Grammys, etc. and our newspapers prate about the awarding of them for weeks on end.    

Is it any wonder, then, that young members of minority groups, wherein fame and prestige are desperate dreams, pass up science and focus on entertainment and athletics as the only highroads to success?

McCain had the right idea. We should direct our prize money and public acclaim toward those activities that better our society. But that's not going to happen.  

* Entering the Dragon, a collection of horror stories about trying to do business with China, is available here.