International research collaborations will be increasingly led by scientists in China over the coming decade. That is according to a new study by researchers at the University of Chicago, which finds that the power balance in international science has shifted markedly away from the US and towards China over the last 25 years (Proc. Natl. Acad. Sci. 122 e2414893122).
To explore China’s role in global science, the team used a machine-learning model to predict the lead researchers of almost six million scientific papers that involved international collaboration listed by online bibliographic catalogue OpenAlex. The model was trained on author data from 80 000 papers published in high-profile journals that routinely detail author contributions, including team leadership.
The study found that between 2010 and 2012 there were only 4429 scientists from China who were likely to have led China-US collaborations. By 2023, this number had risen to 12714, meaning that the proportion of team leaders affiliated with Chinese institutions had risen from 30% to 45%.
Key areas
If this trend continues, China will hit “leadership parity” with the US in chemistry, materials science and computer science by 2028, with maths, physics and engineering being level by 2031. The analysis also suggests that China will achieve leadership parity with the US in eight “critical technology” areas by 2030, including AI, semiconductors, communications, energy and high-performance computing.
For China-UK partnerships, the model found that equality had already been reached in 2019, while EU and China leadership roles will be on par this year or next. The authors also found that China has been actively training scientists in nations in the “Belt and Road Initiative” which seeks to connect China closer to the world through investments and infrastructure projects.
This, the researchers warn, limits the ability to isolate science done in China. Instead, they suggest that it could inspire a different course of action, with the US and other countries expanding their engagement with the developing world to train a global workforce and accelerate scientific advancements beneficial to their economies.
This episode explores the scientific and technological significance of 2D materials such as graphene. My guest is Antonio Rossi, who is a researcher in 2D Materials Engineering at the Italian Institute of Technology in Genoa.
Rossi explains why 2D materials are fundamentally different than their 3D counterparts – and how these differences are driving scientific progress and the development of new and exciting technologies.
Graphene is the most famous 2D material and Rossi talks about today’s real-world applications of graphene in coatings. We also chat about the challenges facing scientists and engineers who are trying to exploit graphene’s unique electronic properties.
Rossi’s current research focuses on two other promising 2D materials – tungsten disulfide and hexagonal boron nitride. He explains why tungsten disulphide shows great technological promise because of its favourable electronic and optical properties; and why hexagonal boron nitride is emerging as an ideal substrate for creating 2D devices.
Artificial intelligence (AI) is becoming an important tool in developing new 2D materials. Rossi explains how his team is developing feedback loops that connect AI with the fabrication and characterization of new materials. Our conversation also touches on the use of 2D materials in quantum science and technology.
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Microcirculation – the flow of blood through the smallest vessels – is responsible for distributing oxygen and nutrients to tissues and organs throughout the body. Mapping this flow at the whole-organ scale could enhance our understanding of the circulatory system and improve diagnosis of vascular disorders. With this aim, researchers at the Institute Physics for Medicine Paris (Inserm, ESPCI-PSL, CNRS) have combined 3D ultrasound localization microscopy (ULM) with a multi-lens array method to image blood flow dynamics in entire organs with micrometric resolution, reporting their findings in Nature Communications.
“Beyond understanding how an organ functions across different spatial scales, imaging the vasculature of an entire organ reveals the spatial relationships between macro- and micro-vascular networks, providing a comprehensive assessment of its structural and functional organization,” explains senior author Clement Papadacci.
The 3D ULM technique works by localizing intravenously injected microbubbles. Offering a spatial resolution roughly ten times finer than conventional ultrasound, 3D ULM can map and quantify micro-scale vascular structures. But while the method has proved valuable for mapping whole organs in small animals, visualizing entire organs in large animals or humans is hindered by the limitations of existing technology.
To enable wide field-of-view coverage while maintaining high-resolution imaging, the team – led by PhD student Nabil Haidour under Papadacci’s supervision – developed a multi-lens array probe. The probe comprises an array of 252 large (4.5 mm²) ultrasound transducer elements. The use of large elements increases the probe’s sensitive area to a total footprint of 104 x 82 mm, while maintaining a relatively low element count.
Each transducer element is equipped with an individual acoustic diverging lens. “Large elements alone are too directive to create an image, as they cannot generate sufficient overlap or interference between beams,” Papadacci explains. “The acoustic lenses reduce this directivity, allowing the elements to focus and coherently combine signals in reception, thus enabling volumetric image formation.”
Whole-organ imaging
After validating their method via numerical simulations and phantom experiments, the team used a multi-lens array probe driven by a clinical ultrasound system to perform 3D dynamic ULM of an entire explanted porcine heart – considered an ideal cardiac model as its vascular anatomies and dimensions are comparable to those of humans.
The heart was perfused with microbubble solution, enabling the probe to visualize the whole coronary microcirculation network over a large volume of 120 x 100 x 82 mm, with a spatial resolution of around 125 µm. The technique enabled visualization of both large vessels and the finest microcirculation in real time. The team also used a skeletonization algorithm to measure vessel radii at each voxel, which ranged from approximately 75 to 600 µm.
As well as structural imaging, the probe can also assess flow dynamics across all vascular scales, with a high temporal resolution of 312 frames/s. By tracking the microbubbles, the researchers estimated absolute flow velocities ranging from 10 mm/s in small vessels to over 300 mm/s in the largest. They could also differentiate arteries and veins based on the flow direction in the coronary network.
In vivo demonstrations
Next, the researchers used the multi-lens array probe to image the entire kidney and liver of an anaesthetized pig at the Veterinary school of Maison Alfort, with the probe positioned in front of the kidney or liver, respectively, and held using an articulated arm. They employed electrocardiography to synchronize the ultrasound acquisitions with periods of minimal respiratory motion and injected microbubble solution intravenously into the animal’s ear.
In vivo imaging Left: 3D microbubble density map of the porcine kidney. Centre: 3D flow map of microbubble velocity distribution. Right: 3D flow map showing arterial (red) and venous (blue) flow. (Courtesy: CC BY 4.0/Nat. Commun. 10.1038/s41467-025-64911-z)
The probe mapped the vascular network of the kidney over a 60 x 80 x 40 mm volume with a spatial resolution of 147 µm. The maximum 3D absolute flow velocity was approximately 280 mm/s in the large vessels and the vessel radii ranged from 70 to 400 µm. The team also used directional flow measurements to identify the arterial and venous flow systems.
Liver imaging is more challenging due to respiratory, cardiac and stomach motions. Nevertheless, 3D dynamic ULM enabled high-depth visualization of a large volume of liver vasculature (65 x 100 x 82 mm) with a spatial resolution of 200 µm. Here, the researchers used dynamic velocity measurement to identify the liver’s three blood networks (arterial, venous and portal veins).
“The combination of whole-organ volumetric imaging with high-resolution vascular quantification effectively addresses key limitations of existing modalities, such as ultrasound Doppler imaging, CT angiography and 4D flow MRI,” they write.
Clinical applications of 3D dynamic ULM still need to be demonstrated, but Papadacci suggests that the technique has strong potential for evaluating kidney transplants, coronary microcirculation disorders, stroke, aneurysms and neoangiogenesis in cancer. “It could also become a powerful tool for monitoring treatment response and vascular remodelling over time,” he adds.
Papadacci and colleagues anticipate that translation to human applications will be possible in the near future and plan to begin a clinical trial early in 2026.
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Enigmatic Inge Lehmann around the time she quit her job at Denmark’s Geodetic Institute in 1953. (Courtesy: GEUS)
In the 1930s a little-known Danish seismologist calculated that the Earth has a solid inner core, within the liquid outer core identified just a decade earlier. The international scientific community welcomed Inge Lehmann as a member of the relatively new field of geophysics – yet in her home country, Lehmann was never really acknowledged as more than a very competent keeper of instruments.
It was only after retiring from her seismologist job aged 65 that Lehmann was able to devote herself full time to research. For the next 30 years, Lehmann worked and published prolifically, finally receiving awards and plaudits that were well deserved. However, this remarkable scientist, who died in 1993 aged 104, rarely appears in short histories of her field.
In a step to address this, we now have a biography of Lehmann: If I Am Right, and I Know I Am by Hanne Strager, a Danish biologist, science museum director and science writer. Strager pieces together Lehmann’s life in great detail, as well as providing potted histories of the scientific areas that Lehmann contributed to.
A brief glance at the chronology of Lehmann’s education and career would suggest that she was a late starter. She was 32 when she graduated with a bachelor’s degree in mathematics from the University of Copenhagen, 40 when she received her master’s degree in geodosy and was appointed state geodesist for Denmark. Lehmann faced a litany of struggles in her younger years, from health problems and money issues to the restrictions placed on most women’s education in the first decades of the 20th century.
The limits did not come from her family. Lehmann and her sister were sent to good schools, she was encouraged to attend university, and was never pressed to get married, which would likely have meant the end of her education. When she asked her father’s permission to go to the University of Cambridge, his objection was the cost – though the money was found and Lehmann duly went to Newnham College in 1910. While there she passed all the preliminary exams to study for Cambridge’s legendarily tough mathematical tripos but then her health forced her to leave.
Lehmann was suffering from stomach pains; she had trouble sleeping; her hair was falling out. And this was not her first breakdown. She had previously studied for a year at the University of Copenhagen before then, too, dropping out and moving to the countryside to recover her health.
The cause of Lehmann’s recurrent breakdowns is unknown. They unfortunately fed into the prevailing view of the time that women were too fragile for the rigours of higher learning. Strager attempts to unpick these historical attitudes from Lehmann’s very real medical issues. She posits that Lehmann had severe anxiety or a physical limitation to how hard she could push herself. But this conclusion fails to address the hostile conditions Lehmann was working in.
In Cambridge Lehmann formed firm friendships that lasted the rest of her life. But women there did not have the same access to learning as men. They were barred from most libraries and laboratories; could not attend all the lectures; were often mocked and belittled by professors and male students. They could sit exams but, even if they passed, would not be awarded a degree. This was a contributing factor when after the First World War Lehmann decided to complete her undergraduate studies in Copenhagen rather than Cambridge.
More than meets the eye
Lehmann is described as quiet, shy, reticent. But she could be eloquent in writing and once her career began she established connections with scientists all over the world by writing to them frequently. She was also not the wallflower she initially appeared to be. When she was hired as an assistant at Denmark’s Institute for the Measurement of Degrees, she quickly complained that she was being using as an office clerk, not a scientist, and she would not have accepted the job had she known this was the role. She was instead given geometry tasks that she found intellectually stimulating, which led her to seismology.
Unfortunately, soon after this Lehmann’s career development stalled. While her title of “state geodesist” sounds impressive, she was the only seismologist in Denmark for decades, responsible for all the seismographs in Denmark and Greenland. Her days were filled with the practicalities of instrument maintenance and publishing reports of all the data collected.
Intrepid Inge Lehmann at the Ittoqqortootmitt (Scoresbysund) seismic station in Greenland c. 1928. A keen hiker, Lehmann was comfortable in cold and remote environments. (Courtesy: GEUS)
Despite repeated requests Lehmann didn’t receive an assistant, which meant she never got round to completing a PhD, though she did work towards one in her evenings and weekends. Time and again opportunities for career advancement went to men who had the title of doctor but far less real experience in geophysics. Even after she co-founded the Danish Geophysical Society in 1934, her native country overlooked her.
The breakthrough that should have changed this attitude from the men around her came in 1936, when she published “P’ ”. This innocuous sounding paper was revolutionary, but based firmly in the P wave and S wave measurements that Lehmann routinely monitored.
In If I Am Right, and I Know I Am, Strager clearly explains what P and S waves are. She also highlights why they were being studied by both state seismologist Lehmann and Cambridge statistician Harold Jeffreys, and how they led to both scientists’ biggest breakthroughs.
After any seismological disturbance, P and S waves propagate through the Earth. P waves move at different speeds according to the material they encounter, while S waves cannot pass through liquid or air. This knowledge allowed Lehmann to calculate whether any fluctuations in seismograph readings were earthquakes, and if so where the epicentre was located. And it led to Jeffreys’ insight that the Earth must have a liquid core.
Lehmann’s attention to detail meant she spotted a “discontinuity” in P waves that did not quite match a purely liquid core. She immediately wrote to Jeffreys that she believed there was another layer to the Earth, a solid inner core, but he was dismissive – which led to her writing the statement that forms the title of this book. Undeterred, she published her discovery in the journal of the International Union of Geodesy and Geophysics.
Home from home
In 1951 Lehmann visited the institution that would become her second home: the Lamont Geological Observatory in New York state. Its director Maurice Ewing invited her to work there on a sabbatical, arranging all the practicalities of travel and housing on her behalf.
Here, Lehmann finally had something she had lacked her entire career: friendly collaboration with colleagues who not only took her seriously but also revered her. Lehmann took retirement from her job in Denmark and began to spend months of every year at the Lamont Observatory until well into her 80s.
Valued colleague A farewell party held for Inge Lehmann in 1954 at Lamont Geological Observatory after one of her research stays. (Courtesy: GEUS)
Though Strager tells us this “second phase” of Lehmann’s career was prolific, she provides little detail about the work Lehmann did. She initially focused on detecting nuclear tests during the Cold War. But her later work was more varied, and continued after she lost most of her vision. Lehmann published her final paper aged 99.
If I Am Right, and I Know I Am is bookended with accounts of Strager’s research into one particular letter sent to Lehmann, an anonymous (because the final page has been lost) declaration of love. It’s an insight into the lengths Strager went to – reading all the surviving correspondence to and from Lehmann; interviewing living relatives and colleagues; working with historians both professional and amateur; visiting archives in several countries.
But for me it hit the wrong tone. The preface and epilogue are mostly speculation about Lehmann’s love life. Lehmann destroyed a lot of her personal correspondence towards the end of her life, and chose what papers to donate to an archive. To me those are the actions of a woman who wants to control the narrative of her life – and does not want her romances to be written about. I would have preferred instead another chapter about her later work, of which we know she was proud.
But for the majority of its pages, this is a book of which Strager can be proud. I came away from it with great admiration for Lehmann and an appreciation for how lonely life was for many women scientists even in recent history.
Connexion
