Vox Meditantis

Dame Jocelyn Bell Burnell’s story embodies everything wrong with how science has historically treated women. In 1967, as a 24-year-old PhD student at Cambridge, she discovered one of the most significant astronomical phenomena of the 20th century—radio pulsars. Yet when the Nobel Prize was awarded in 1974 for this groundbreaking discovery, it went to her male supervisor Antony Hewish, not to the young woman who had actually spotted the “bit of scruff” on her chart recordings that would revolutionise our understanding of the universe. This injustice perfectly illustrates the systemic barriers that have kept brilliant women in the shadows of scientific achievement, denied the recognition their discoveries deserved.

Early Life: Fighting for the Right to Learn Science

Bell Burnell’s journey began in Belfast on 15 July 1943, where she was born into a Quaker family that valued education. Her father, an architect who helped design the Armagh Planetarium, encouraged her interest in astronomy from an early age. But even in her privileged circumstances, the path to scientific education was far from smooth. At Lurgan College, the institutional sexism was stark and shameless: boys were ushered into science laboratories whilst girls were dispatched to study domestic science—cooking and cross-stitching.

Only after her parents intervened was Bell Burnell permitted to join the boys in the science laboratory. This early battle foreshadowed the discrimination she would face throughout her career. After failing her eleven-plus exam, her parents sent her to The Mount School, a Quaker girls’ boarding school in York, where an inspiring physics teacher, Mr Tillott, showed her “how easy physics was”. This moment of encouragement proved transformative—demonstrating the profound impact that inclusive teaching can have on young minds.

At the University of Glasgow, Bell Burnell was the sole woman studying physics. The male students’ response was predictably juvenile and hostile: they banged their desks whenever she entered a lecture theatre. Rather than retreat, Bell Burnell learned “not to show weakness, not to show it was affecting me”. This resilience would serve her well in the male-dominated world of astrophysics.

The Discovery That Changed Astronomy

Bell Burnell’s path to Cambridge was itself marked by institutional bias. A summer job at Jodrell Bank radio observatory led nowhere because the director, Bernard Lovell, “did not favour female students”. Instead, she arrived at Cambridge in 1965 to work with Antony Hewish on constructing the Interplanetary Scintillation Array—a radio telescope covering four acres with 4,096 vertical wooden poles connected by wires.

The work was physically demanding. Bell Burnell described it as involving “a lot of banging of stakes into the ground”. She analysed roughly 100 feet of chart recordings daily, scrutinising the pen-traced signals by hand. On 28 November 1967, she noticed something extraordinary: a “bit of scruff” that tracked across the sky with the stars, pulsing with remarkable regularity at intervals of about 1.3 seconds.

Initially, the signal was dismissed by Hewish as radio interference. But Bell Burnell’s meticulous approach—driven partly by impostor syndrome and fear of being found out as inadequate—led her to investigate further. She discovered three more pulsing sources, establishing that these were genuine astronomical phenomena. The sources were initially dubbed “Little Green Men” before being identified as rapidly rotating neutron stars—the ultra-dense remnants of stellar explosions.

This discovery was revolutionary. Pulsars provided the first direct evidence of neutron stars, objects so dense that a teaspoon would weigh as much as Mount Everest. They became cosmic laboratories for testing Einstein’s theory of relativity and understanding the origins of heavy elements in the universe.

The Nobel Scandal: Recognition Denied

When the 1974 Nobel Prize in Physics was announced, it went to Antony Hewish and Martin Ryle. Bell Burnell, whose careful observations and analytical skills had made the discovery possible, was excluded entirely. The scientific community’s response was swift and damning. Sir Fred Hoyle criticised the omission publicly, arguing that Bell Burnell deserved recognition.

The exclusion exemplified what scholars now call the “Matilda effect”—the systematic bias against acknowledging women scientists’ achievements, which are instead attributed to their male colleagues. This phenomenon has plagued science for centuries, from medieval physician Trotula to 20th-century physicists like Lise Meitner and Rosalind Franklin.

Bell Burnell’s own response was characteristically gracious but telling. In 1977, she commented: “I believe it would demean Nobel Prizes if they were awarded to research students, except in very exceptional cases, and I do not believe this is one of them”. This statement, whilst diplomatically worded, revealed the internalised expectations that women should be grateful for any recognition at all. Her discovery was certainly exceptional enough to merit the highest scientific honours—something later events would vindicate.

Media Misogyny and Scientific Sexism

The media coverage of the pulsar discovery exposed the endemic sexism of the era. Whilst Hewish was questioned about the astrophysics, Bell Burnell faced a barrage of personal inquiries that had nothing to do with science. Journalists asked about her “vital statistics,” how many boyfriends she had, and whether she could “undo some buttons” for photographs. This degrading treatment reduced a brilliant scientist to a mere curiosity—the woman who happened to be present when real (male) scientists made discoveries.

Such attitudes weren’t confined to tabloid journalism. They reflected broader institutional biases that continue to disadvantage women in science. Research shows that women face longer peer review processes, receive fewer citations, and are less likely to be promoted to senior positions. The Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, which awards Nobel Prizes in physics and chemistry, remains heavily male-dominated with under 13% women members.

Belated Recognition and Philanthropic Vision

Justice eventually arrived, albeit decades late. In 2018, Bell Burnell received the Special Breakthrough Prize in Fundamental Physics, worth $3 million—the world’s largest scientific award. Her response demonstrated the moral clarity that has defined her career: she donated the entire sum to establish the Bell Burnell Graduate Scholarship Fund, supporting PhD students from underrepresented groups in physics.

“I don’t want or need the money myself,” she told the BBC, “and it seemed to me that this was perhaps the best use I could put to it”. The fund specifically targets women, ethnic minorities, refugees, and students from disadvantaged backgrounds—precisely the groups that institutional barriers have historically excluded from physics.

In 2021, Bell Burnell became only the second woman ever to receive the Royal Society’s Copley Medal, the world’s oldest scientific prize. At 78, she expressed hope that “there will be many more female Copley winners in the near future”.

A Legacy Beyond Discovery

Bell Burnell’s career exemplifies resilience in the face of systemic discrimination. She has held numerous prestigious positions, including presidencies of the Royal Astronomical Society and the Institute of Physics, and served as Chancellor of the University of Dundee. Her unconventional career path—which she acknowledges “has not fitted a conventional – male – pattern”—has nonetheless been extraordinarily successful.

Her commitment to diversity in science extends beyond philanthropy. Bell Burnell has consistently advocated for inclusive practices that would have prevented the barriers she faced. Her scholarship fund represents more than charity—it’s a strategic intervention to ensure that future generations of brilliant minds aren’t lost to prejudice and institutional blindness.

The story of Jocelyn Bell Burnell forces uncomfortable questions about how many other women’s contributions have been erased or minimised. How many potential discoveries have been lost because talented women were excluded from science laboratories, denied opportunities, or had their work attributed to male colleagues? Her experience demands that we examine not just individual cases of injustice, but the systemic forces that create them.

Today, as we contend with persistent gender disparities in STEM fields, Bell Burnell’s story serves as both inspiration and warning. Her discovery of pulsars opened new frontiers in our understanding of the universe. Her philanthropy opens new possibilities for a more inclusive scientific future. But her exclusion from the Nobel Prize remains a stark reminder of how brilliant women have been written out of science’s greatest achievements—and why we must ensure such injustices never happen again.

Bob Lynn / 24-May-2025