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The Standard Model of Particle Physics

Article  in  European Review · December 2014

DOI: 10.1017/S1062798714000520 · Source: arXiv

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 The Standard Model of Particle Physics

Tom W.B. Kibble

Blackett Laboratory, Imperial College London

Abstract
This is a historical account from my personal perspective of the development over the last
few decades of the standard model of particle physics. The model is based on gauge theories,
of which the first was quantum electrodynamics, describing the interactions of electrons with
light. This was later incorporated into the electroweak theory, describing electromagnetic
and weak nuclear interactions. The standard model also includes quantum chromodynamics,
the theory of the strong nuclear interactions. The final capstone of the model was the Higgs
particle discovered in 2012 at CERN. But the model is very far from being the last word;
there are still many gaps in our understanding.

Key words: standard model of particle physics, gauge theory, electroweak theory, quantum
chromodynamics, Higgs boson

Atoms and their constituents

Since prehistoric times, people have been asking: What are we made of? What are the
basic constituents of the world around us? And how do they interact? The atomic theory,
that matter is composed of indivisible atoms, goes back at least to the fifth century BC, when
it was championed by Leucippus and Democritus. In the nineteenth century, chemists,
beginning with John Dalton, gradually established the reality of atoms, still seen as
indivisible.
But we now know they are far from indivisible. Most of the mass of an atom is
concentrated in the tiny nucleus surrounded by a cloud of electrons. The nucleus in turn is
formed of protons and neutrons, but these are not elementary either. They are actually
composed of even smaller particles, called quarks. So far as we now know that is as far as it
goes: electrons and quarks really are elementary. But who knows how the theory will
develop in the future?
Gradually over the last century we have built up what we now call the standard model of
particle physics, which describes the particles we now believe to be fundamental and their
interactions. The theory has proven amazingly successful, accurately describing almost all of
the empirical data, though there are a few tiny niggling discrepancies. In this article, I am
aiming to give a historical account, from my personal perspective, of how this model
developed. It is a story of encounters with many intractable obstacles and ingenious ways of
avoiding them.
Describing this model is not easy, partly because it is really quite complex, but even more
because we lack the language. One thing we have learned is that small particles are not at all
like tiny versions of large ones. They behave in ways that seem in the light of ordinary
experience truly bizarre. So analogies with things we are familiar with tend to be flawed and
misleading. Nevertheless, I shall try.
The first bit of weirdness concerns waves and particles, two very different things in our
familiar world. A debate raged for 200 years: is light a wave or is it formed of particles?
The answer of course is both. As Thomas Young showed, it is certainly a wave; if a light
beam strikes two parallel slits then on a screen behind them it creates strips of light and dark
where the waves reinforce each other or cancel out. But Einstein’s work on the photoelectric
effect (for which he got the Nobel Prize) demonstrated that when light is absorbed energy
can only be extracted in discrete quanta, called photons, with energy E related to the

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frequency f of the light by E = hf, where h is Planck’s constant. So whether light behaves as
a wave or a particle depends on what we choose to look at.
The same, we now know, is true of electrons and other particles; they exhibit wavelike
properties. They too produce interference fringes when passed through two parallel slits.
That is weird: if they are particles, then, one would imagine, they must pass through one slit
or the other. Yet if we arrange a device to observe which slit they go through the pattern
disappears. But though weird, the wave properties of electrons are now well understood and
indeed practically useful. The wavelengths involved are tiny, so if we want much finer
resolution than an ordinary optical microscope provides, we use an electron microscope.
And indeed to see detail on a sub-atomic scale we need even more energetic probes, which is
why we need big particle accelerators.
Curiously, Planck’s constant h turns up in another apparently unrelated setting. Most of
the known particles have an intrinsic spin, corresponding to an angular momentum which is
always an integral or half-integral multiple of h/2π, a quantity for which we use the special
symbol ℏ. There are two very different families of particles: bosons, whose spin is
0,,2, and fermions, with spin 12 , 23 , .
For simplicity we talk of “spin 0”, “spin ½”, “spin 1” and so on. Bosons are sociable and
like to occupy the same state, whereas fermions (including protons, neutrons and electrons)
are forbidden from doing so by the Pauli exclusion principle, the essential basis of atomic
structure.

Quantum electrodynamics
The standard model describes how these curious entities interact. The first piece of it to
reach a mature form was quantum electrodynamics (QED) which deals with the interactions
of light, or photons, with electrons. It is a field theory; each kind of particle is described by a
field extending through space. Photons of course are related to the electric and magnetic
fields, and there is also an electron field. Particles can be thought of as little wave packets,
short trains of waves in these fields, though the analogy is far from perfect.
QED was invented in the 1930s and gave good results, but also ran into a serious problem.
The standard method of calculation, called perturbation theory, involves successive
approximations. The first approximation gave results usually within a few percent of the
correct answer. The problem was that the higher approximations, intended to give more
accurate answers, actually gave the answer infinity! The solution to that problem emerged
just after the second world war. It was found independently by three people, in 1947 by
Richard Feynman and by Julian Schwinger in the USA and in fact earlier, in 1943, by Sin-
Itiro Tomonaga working all alone in wartime Japan. It was called renormalization theory.
Essentially it amounted to gathering all the infinities together into corrections to the mass and
electric charge of the electron. This juggling with infinite quantities still seems a rather
suspect procedure, but it works; after renormalization the results obtained were finite and
agreed to astonishing accuracy with the experiments. QED rapidly became the most
accurately verified theory in the history of physics.
So what next? By the time I had the good fortune to join Abdus Salam’s group at
Imperial College in 1959, QED was a well-established theory. But there are other forces
besides the electromagnetic, and physicists started searching for equally successful models of
those.
We distinguish four kinds of forces. Two of these, the electromagnetic and gravitational,
are familiar because they are long-range forces, diminishing as the inverse square of the
distance. In QED the electromagnetic force between two electrons can be thought of as due
to the exchange of photons between them. It is long-range because the photon is massless,
by which we mean it has no rest-mass. A massive particle with rest-mass m has a minimum

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energy, when it is at rest, given by Einstein’s famous relation E = mc2. But a photon is never
at rest and its energy can be as small as one likes.
Gravitational forces are long-range too, supposedly transmitted by another massless
particle, the graviton. But on the scale of particle physics, gravitational forces are tiny; the
gravitational attraction between a pair of protons is weaker than the electrostatic repulsion by
a factor of a trillion trillion trillion. Gravitons are therefore at the moment (and perhaps for
ever) completely undetectable, though physicists hope to be able to detect gravitational
waves within the next few years.

The search for symmetries

A principal goal of theoretical particle physicists after the success of QED was to
understand the two other kinds of forces which are less familiar because they are short-range,
negligible on scales larger than an atomic nucleus. These are the strong and weak nuclear
forces. The strong force is responsible for binding protons and neutrons together in atomic
nuclei. The weak force appears in one form of radioactivity, nuclear beta decay, in which a
neutron changes into a proton, an electron and a very elusive massless neutrino. It also plays
a vital role in the energy generating mechanism in the Sun.
Experimental particle physics also saw rapid development. Before the second world war
we knew of a handful of presumably elementary particles, but when after the war physicists
went back to studies of cosmic rays and later of collisions in particle accelerators, they
rapidly discovered a huge zoo of particles, a hundred or more, so people started to ask, could
all these really be elementary? To make sense of this zoo, physicists looked for patterns,
rather as chemists had done a century earlier in developing the periodic table. This revealed
a lot of similarities and approximate symmetries.
Before the war Werner Heisenberg had suggested a symmetry between protons and
neutrons. He pointed out that they are very similar, with the same strong interactions, the
same spin (½) and almost the same mass, and suggested that they might be regarded as two
different states of a single entity, called the nucleon. He also proposed a symmetry in which
one can as it were rotate one into the other without changing anything. This symmetry is
now called isospin, not because it has anything to do with real spin, but because of a
mathematical analogy with the symmetry between states of a spinning electron. Of course,
this is not an exact symmetry. Protons and neutrons do differ, because the proton has an
electric charge and the neutron does not; the symmetry is broken by electromagnetism. But it
is nevertheless a good approximation, for example in classifying energy levels of light atomic
nuclei, because at short distances the strong interactions are much stronger than the
electromagnetic.
Later, in 1961, it was found that many of the newly discovered particles could be arranged
in two-dimensional patterns suggesting a wider but even more approximate symmetry. This
was discovered independently by Murray Gell-Mann and by Yuval Ne’eman, at the time a
student of Salam’s at Imperial College. Gell-Mann called the symmetry the “eight-fold
way”, because of its characteristic patterns of octets.

Gauge theories
Where were we to look for theories of the strong and weak interactions? Some people
argued for abandoning field theory altogether and advocated an alternative, called S-matrix
theory. But Salam and others of like mind felt that the answer lay in a particular kind of field
theory, a gauge theory. QED is the simplest example of a gauge theory. That means it has a
particular type of symmetry, whose simplest manifestation is that it is differences in electric
voltages that matter, not absolute voltages.

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 The first gauge theory beyond QED was proposed in 1954 by Chen-Ning Yang and
Robert Mills, and incorporated Heisenberg’s isospin symmetry. The same theory was
actually written down independently by a student of Salam’s, Ronald Shaw, though he never
published it except as a Cambridge University PhD thesis. It was intended as a theory of
strong interactions. In the end it turned out not to be the correct theory, but it is nevertheless
the basis for all later work on gauge theories.
There were also proposals for a gauge theory of weak interactions, the first by Schwinger
in 1956. It had been discovered that just as electromagnetic processes proceed via exchange
of photons, so the weak interactions could be seen as mediated by particles called W+ and W–,
where the superscripts indicate positive and negative electric charge. In many ways these
particles were similar to the photon — in particular they all have spin 1 — but with one
major difference. To explain the extremely short range of the weak interactions it had to be
assumed that the W particles are very massive, in fact about 100 times heavier than a proton.
Schwinger suggested they might also be the “gauge bosons” of a gauge theory, and indeed
that there might be a unified theory of weak and electromagnetic interactions with the W+, W–
and photon (conventionally denoted by γ) appearing symmetrically. But of course this
symmetry could not be exact; because of the big difference in mass, it had to be severely
broken.
Other proposals followed. In 1961, Sheldon Glashow proposed a modified theory. To
solve another problem with Schwinger’s scheme, concerning mirror symmetry, he added a
fourth gauge boson, Z0, electrically neutral like the photon. Salam and his collaborator, John
Ward, proposed essentially the same theory in 1964, apparently unaware of Glashow’s work.

The problem of mass

But there was a big problem with all these proposals. Some mechanism had to be found
to break the symmetry, leaving the photon massless while giving large masses to the other
gauge bosons. Just putting in masses by hand spoiled the nice properties of gauge theories,
and indeed rendered them unrenormalizable; the process of renormalization could not be
used to make them give finite answers. So people began to ask, could the symmetry be
broken spontaneously? Spontaneous symmetry breaking is a well-known and ubiquitous
phenomenon. It means that the underlying theory remains symmetric, but the particular
realization we are dealing with is not. It frequently occurs at a phase transition, as from
liquid to solid, where we move from a phase where the symmetry is manifest to one where it
is hidden. If you place a circular bowl of water on a table, it looks exactly the same from
every direction; it has rotational symmetry. But when it freezes, the ice crystals will line up
in particular directions, breaking the symmetry. The breaking is spontaneous in the sense
that we cannot predict in advance which direction will be chosen, unless we know of external
features that already break the symmetry, such as imperfections in the bowl.
However, this did not immediately solve the problem, because it was widely believed that
in any theory compatible with Einstein’s special theory of relativity spontaneous symmetry
breaking would always lead to the appearance of unwanted massless “Nambu-Goldstone
bosons”, unwanted because no one had seen any such particles, though they should have
been easy to detect. These particles correspond to waves in the direction of the symmetry
breaking. When Steven Weinberg visited Imperial College on sabbatical in 1961, he and
Salam spent a lot of time discussing this problem. Their unhappy conclusion, that such
particles are inevitable, was the content of the “Goldstone theorem”, published together with
Jeffrey Goldstone.
The escape from this obstacle was found in 1964 by three groups of people independently,
firstly François Englert and Robert Brout from Brussels, then Peter Higgs from Edinburgh,
and finally a couple of months later by two American colleagues, Gerald Guralnik and Carl

4
Richard Hagen, and myself at Imperial College. The three groups all published papers in
Physical Review Letters in the summer and autumn of 1964. They approached the problem
from very different perspectives, but came to essentially the same conclusion. There is
nothing wrong with the proof of the Goldstone theorem, but it relies on a very natural
assumption that is nevertheless false for gauge theories. The mechanism has been described
as one in which the gauge bosons “eat” the Nambu-Goldstone bosons and hence acquire
mass. The spontaneous symmetry breaking is achieved through the action of a new scalar
field, whose corresponding particles are the Higgs bosons. “Scalar” here means that the
Higgs bosons, uniquely among known elementary particles, have spin zero.
These three papers attracted almost no interest at the time. Although by then we had in
place both Glashow’s unified model and the mass-generating mechanism, it took three more
years for anyone to put the two together. I wrote another paper on the subject in 1967,
exploring the way the mechanism would apply to more realistic models, not just the simplest
gauge theory discussed in the 1964 papers. That work helped, I believe, to revive interest in
the problem, particularly Salam’s interest. Finally a unified theory of weak and
electromagnetic interactions, combining Glashow’s model with the mass-generating
mechanism, was proposed by Weinberg in late 1967. Salam developed essentially the same
theory independently, and presented it in lectures he gave at Imperial College in the autumn
of that year, but he did not publish it until the following year. He called it the “electroweak
theory”. Both he and Weinberg believed that the theory was indeed renormalizable and
therefore self-consistent, but this was only proved in 1971 in a remarkable tour de force by a
young student, Gerard ’t Hooft. The correctness of the model was confirmed over the next
twenty years by experiments at CERN and elsewhere, including the discovery of the W+, W–,
and Z0 particles in 1983.

Quarks and gluons

While all this was going on, there were also remarkable, though very different,
developments in understanding the strong interactions. This started with an attempt to
understand the eightfold-way symmetry mentioned earlier. It was pointed out in 1963 by
Gell-Mann and independently by George Zweig that this pattern could be understood if all
the strongly interacting particles were composites of three basic entities. Picking a name
from Finnegan’s Wake, Gell-Mann called them “quarks”, distinguished as “up”, “down” and
“strange” (u, d, and s). The proton and neutron for example were each formed from three
quarks, the proton from (uud) and the neutron from (udd). Strange quarks, which were
significantly heavier, were needed to make the more exotic members of the particle zoo.
Viewed thus, isospin was a symmetry between u and d quarks, and the eightfold way a more
approximate symmetry between u, d and s. One of the very strange properties of quarks is
that, unlike all previously known particles, they have electric charges that are fractional
multiples of the proton charge e, + 23 e for u and − 13 e for d and s. How that is compatible
with the fact that no one has ever seen a particle with fractional charge is a question we shall
return to below.
However, there was a flaw in this neat scheme, most readily illustrated by the existence of
a particle called Δ++, formed of (uuu). Since it has spin 3 2 , the spins of the three u quarks
(each ½) must be pointing in the same direction. This means they are occupying the same
state, in contradiction to the Pauli principle. A solution to that problem was devised in 1964
by Moo-Young Han and Yoichiro Nambu and independently by Oscar Wallace Greenberg:
each of the quarks comes in three different “colours”, conventionally red, green and blue,
although of course they have nothing to do with real colours. All the known particles are
colour neutral, containing say one quark of each colour (or else a quark and its antiparticle).

5
Thus the three quarks in (uuu) are of three different colours and so don’t violate the Pauli
principle. There is perfect symmetry between the different colours.
We now know that there are in fact six types of quark, not just three. The three extra are
called “charm” (c), “bottom” (b) and “top” (t); more glamorous names for the last two,
“beauty” and “truth”, have not caught on. The six quarks can be arranged as three pairs,
(u,d), (c,s), (t,b), each with the same pair of charges ( + 2 3 e, − 1 3 e ). Each of the three pairs
looks essentially the same, except for the fact that they get increasingly heavy; the top quark
is actually heavier than the W and Z gauge bosons. The electron too has two very similar but
heavier companions, the muon (µ) and the tau (τ), and each of these three is paired with a
massless neutrino with charge zero. So for both the quarks and what we call the leptons there
is an odd three-generation structure.
Physicists took some time to be convinced that this apparently artificial solution is in fact
correct. But colour proved to be the essential key to understanding the strong interactions.
Han and Nambu suggested that strong interactions might be mediated by an octet of gauge
bosons, called “gluons”, coupled specifically to colours. This idea forms the basis of the now
accepted gauge theory of strong interactions, quantum chromodynamics (QCD). This colour
force induced by gluon exchange has some really odd features. Familiar forces like
electromagnetism always fall off with increasing distance. But in 1973 David Gross and
Frank Wilczek, and also David Politzer, showed that by contrast the colour force exhibits
what they called “asymptotic freedom”, namely it becomes very weak at short distances.
(“Asymptotic” here indicates that the effect is seen in collisions at very high energy.) This is
very fortunate for theorists, because it means that the usual perturbation-theory technique can
be used to calculate these high-energy effects. Why no one has seen any free quarks or
gluons is explained by the obverse of this phenomenon, called “confinement”, namely that
the colour force between particles that are not colour-neutral grows at large distance; it is as
if the quarks inside a proton or neutron are bound together by elastic threads and can never
escape.

The Higgs and beyond

This may seem a very strange theory but it is now well established; QCD and the
electroweak theory together constitute the standard model, with spin-½ leptons and quarks
and spin-1 gauge bosons. It has been tested by innumerable experiments over the last forty
years and been thoroughly vindicated.
Until recently there was however a gap, the Higgs boson. Back in 1964, the existence of
this extra particle was seen as a relatively minor feature; the important thing was the
mechanism for giving masses to gauge bosons. But twenty years later, it began to assume a
special significance as the only remaining piece of the standard-model jigsaw that had not
been found. Finding it was one of the principal goals of the large hadron collider (LHC) at
CERN. This is the largest piece of scientific apparatus every constructed, a precision
instrument built in a huge 27 km-long tunnel straddling the French-Swiss border near Geneva
— a truly remarkable piece of engineering. Protons are sent round in both directions,
accelerated close to the speed of light, and allowed to collide at four crossing points around
the ring. At two of these are large detectors, Atlas and CMS, also marvels of engineering,
that over a period of twenty years have been designed, built and operated by huge
international teams of physicists and engineers. In 2012 this mammoth effort paid off, with
the unequivocal discovery by both teams of the Higgs boson.
So is this the end of the story? Surely not. The standard model can hardly be the last
word. It is marvellously successful, but far from simple. It has something like 20 arbitrary
parameters, things like ratios of masses and coupling strengths, that we cannot predict and
that seem to have no obvious pattern to them. Moreover there are many features for which

6
 we have no explanation. Why for both quarks and leptons are there three generations with
very similar properties but wildly varying masses? Why do quarks come in three colours?
One theory is that all these choices are random. There may have been many big bangs, each
producing a universe with its own set of parameters. Most of those universes would probably
be devoid of life. But that is for many a profoundly unsatisfactory answer; we certainly
hoped for a more predictive theory!
On the observational side, there are still many things we cannot explain. What is the
nature of the dark matter in the universe? Why does the universe contain more matter than
antimatter — leptons and quarks rather than antileptons and antiquarks? Moreover there are
a few points on which the standard model definitely does not agree with observation. In
particular, in the standard model the neutrinos are strictly massless. But we now know that
do in fact have non-zero, albeit very tiny, masses. We really have no idea why.
Finally, there is the elephant in the room: gravity, which does not appear at all in the
standard model. It is in fact very difficult to reconcile our best theory of gravity, Einstein’s
general theory of relativity, with quantum theory. That is a problem we have been struggling
with for the best part of a century. There are hopes that string theory, or its more modern
realization, M-theory, may successfully unite the two, but that effort has been going on for
decades without as yet reaching a conclusion. At any rate it does appear that there is a lot
more for theoretical physicists to do!

Further Reading
Sample, I. (2010) Massive: the Hunt for the God Particle (London: Virgin Books)
Close, F. (2011) The Infinity Puzzle (Oxford: Oxford University Press)
Carroll, S. (2013) The Particle at the End of the Universe (London: One World Publications)

Acknowledgement
This article is the text of an invited talk given at the 25th Anniversary Meeting of the
Academia Europaea held in Wrocław in September 2013. I am grateful to the organizers for
the invitation.

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