Recently, there has been a small flurry of articles about one of the most accomplished figures in modern science, Prof. John Goodenough. Unless you work in the field of energy storage materials or teach computer science, you may never have heard of him. In his early career, he played a pivotal role in the development of air traffic control systems and RAM, game-changing technologies of the mid-20th century. Then, he had the foresight to learn chemistry so he could investigate energy storage materials ahead of the energy crisis in the late 1970s. Just a few years after lithium batteries were proposed theoretically by Stanley Whittingham, Goodenough used a lithium cobalt oxide cathode to create the first commercially viable, rechargeable lithium-ion battery. He moved from full-time lab work at Oxford to a professorship at the University of Texas in 1986, where his team has continued to identify new materials for Li-ion cathodes, anodes, and electrolytes ever since.
Perhaps most impressive about Goodenough’s career is its longevity: even at the age of 97, he’s not done contributing. In 2017, his group published a groundbreaking study of a battery with a solid glass electrolyte, which enabled over 20,000 charge-discharge cycles by preventing the formation of lithium dendrites (the fatal flaw of conventional Li-ion batteries). While controversial, this glass battery, if legitimate, could usher in a new generation of long-lasting electronics or realize the elusive goal of grid-scale renewable energy storage. And though he’s been a high-profile figure in science for four decades, he answered the phone when one of my colleagues (a regular guy, not a battery chemist, mind you) called to discuss Goodenough’s views on the future of energy. I find it so admirable that even well into his nineties, John Goodenough embodies a complete dedication to being a productive and approachable scientist.
Of course it would be malapropos to use Goodenough’s career as a measuring stick for my own, but I aspire to be as team-oriented, adaptable, and forward-thinking in my scientific endeavors. Frankly, I’m off to a bad start. My foresight was questionable when I jumped from researching silicon anodes for Li-ion batteries to the crowded field of perovskite solar cells. The major advancements in perovskite optoelectronics have been driven by a select few labs, while my lab at Vanderbilt was unable to assemble even a single solar cell reaching 10% efficiency. Since then, the price for silicon solar cells has fallen drastically due to Chinese mass manufacturing, and the limiting factor preventing widespread solar energy adoption is…you guessed it, energy storage technology. More recently, I co-founded Felix Tech in part to incubate the development of a new desalination process, but a fundamental misunderstanding of early results is making this look like an ill-informed venture. So far I’m 0-for-2 in my scientific career, a level of failure that is quite rare in today’s science culture that selects for steady incremental progress.
But if it’s three strikes before you’re out, I still have another chance to swing. Fortunately, my last project is a big one, a sophisticated computational approach to predicting tornadoes that happens to coincide with a golden age of big-data analytics and advanced mapping. If I can reinvent myself to execute this project correctly and in context, I think my overarching goals of contributing to the greater world will be back within reach. And that would be good enough for now. After all, Goodenough took 90 years to accomplish all that he has in his lifetime. That’s enough time to experiment, to fail, to switch fields, to meet standards of incremental progress, and to build a life outside of research. A single breakthrough can be a life-defining moment for a scientist, but Goodenough’s legacy is a prime example that a long career of genuine devotion and continued innovation is immeasurably more valuable.
Worldly Observations 