Stephen Hawking, the brightest star of all

By Lauren Ashley

Stephen Hawking, astrophysics’ most recognisable face, will now be studying the universe from a different plane of existence.

Many saw him as somewhat immortal – someone who was here before us, and who would be here after us.

He was born on Jan 8, 1942, the anniversary of Galileo Galilei’s death, and died on March 14, Pi Day, and the birth anniversary of Albert Einstein. Perhaps there is some truth to Einstein’s statement that God does not play dice with the universe.

Diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) at 21, doctors told him he would live only another two years, but he had a stunning 55.

As he became paralysed by the disease, he developed compensatory methods, including seeing equations as shapes. Physicist Werner Israel compared it to Mozart composing symphonies in his head.

Hawking formulated groundbreaking theories in cosmology, but refused the elitist views held by many of his peers. His most famous book, “A Brief History of Time”, is deliberately written for layman consumption.

He spent his life in search of a Theory of Everything, an equation to reconcile quantum physics with relativity. He didn’t quite make it, but his discovery of Hawking Radiation turned our knowledge of black holes on its head. In fact, he will be best remembered for a discovery so strange it might as well be a Zen koan: When is a black hole not black? When it explodes.

He was also known as a central part of popular culture, appearing on “Star Trek: The Next Generation”, “The Simpsons”, and “The Big Bang Theory”. But most importantly, he was an avid believer in what makes us human. He fought relentlessly against capitalism, was an avid supporter of universal healthcare, and believed in the value of hard work.

He was fiercely independent and refused to accept concessions for his disability – a limitless mind in a limited body. Even after losing his speech, he remained one of the most outspoken about preserving the childlike wonder that many of us lose. He reminded us to look up at the stars rather than at our feet; to make sense of what we see and wonder about what makes the universe exist.

“Be curious,” he said. “And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. It matters that you don’t give up.”

He was never afraid of death, being terminally ill for more than half his life, but said he was in no hurry to die. There were so many things for him to do still, so many jokes to make, so many people’s toes to run over – something he was famous for doing to people he disliked. One of his only regrets in life was not having an opportunity to run over Margaret Thatcher’s. Perhaps he was wrong about the afterlife not existing, and it will present him with an opportunity to do just that.

His bright light may have gone out, but the lights he lit around the world – including mine – will burn on. He has become as immortal, as irremovable from physics, as his predecessors Newton and Einstein.