In 1964, spirited debates erupted at a conference in Cardiff, Wales. The source of the consternation was extreme production delays that stemmed from malfunctioning equipment at iron and steel plants across the United Kingdom. Beginning in the twentieth century, the automation of heavy machinery enabled plants to operate continuously, increasing productivity and revenue. The downside was that any small hiccup was acutely felt, cascading through the production line. At first, it was assumed that inadequate lubrication of factory equipment was causing parts to seize up or break apart. And so, the Lubrication and Wear Group of the Institution of Mechanical Engineers, along with the Iron and Steel Institute, called on engineers and representatives from industry to convene and get to the bottom of the problem. But as participants examined photos of equipment failures at plants across the United Kingdom, United States, and Germany, they realized that the problem was not in the lubrication but in the design of the equipment itself. The old designs weren’t equipped to handle the wear and tear of continuous operation, no matter how much lubrication was applied.
In attendance at the conference was Peter Jost, an engineer from the British iron, steel, and tinplate production plant Richard Thomas and Baldwins. Conveniently, one of Jost’s acquaintances, Bertram Vivian Bowden, Baron Bowden, had recently become the UK’s Minister of State for Education and Science. Jost relayed the findings to Lord Bowden and suggested that the newly established Ministry of Technology look into the matter further. When Lord Bowden’s inquiries to the Ministry of Technology went unanswered, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He assembled a team of engineers to investigate the scope of the failures and to make recommendations for addressing them. Jost would lead the team.
As the engineers collected data from dozens of plants in the UK, Europe, and the US, a pattern emerged. During operation, as surfaces rubbed against each other, an inadequately designed system experienced excessive wear and tear as well as energy losses. In the UK, these inefficiencies amounted to over £500 million in lost revenue, approximately 1.3–1.6 percent of the gross domestic product (GDP). Designing a properly lubricated system that could overcome such inefficiencies, they argued, required an interdisciplinary approach informed by mechanical engineering, physics, and chemistry.
By late 1965, Jost’s team was ready to present its findings to the Department of Education and Science. There was just one problem. The title of the report, “Lubrication,” didn’t convey the interdisciplinary nature of the investigation they had undertaken. The marriage of chemistry, physics, and engineering to study how surfaces interact was novel and significant enough to be considered a new discipline of science, and it needed a name. As Jost noted, the team’s description of this discipline, “Interacting surfaces in relative motion and associated practices,” was a mouthful. Hence, some rebranding was in order.
Jost reached out to the editor of the Oxford English Dictionary, Robert Burchfield, who pointed out that rubbing was the commonality among all the failures. He suggested using the Greek word tribo, meaning “to rub,” as the root of the name. After all, one of Jost’s consultants, David Tabor, had already co-founded the Laboratory of Tribophysics in Melbourne in the late 1940s. And the Dutch scientist Petrus van Musschenbroek had used the term tribometer to describe an instrument he invented to measure resistance in bearings. The editor proposed “triboscience and tribotechnology,” or, if Jost preferred something shorter, “tribology.” At first, not every one was on board. But eventually they agreed that a word rooted in ancient Greek would be more easily adopted by an international and interdisciplinary field. Many scientific terms have Greek roots, thanks to the prolific discoveries of the Ancient Greeks.
Inefficiencies amounted to over £500 million in lost revenue, approximately 1.3–1.6 percent of the gross domestic product.
In November 1965, the report, titled Lubrication (Tribology), was sent to the Minister of State for Education and Science, a position now held by Edward Redhead. The response was swift and comprehensive. Within the Ministry of Technology, a Committee of Tribology was formed, once again headed by Jost. On this committee, government employees joined academics and industry experts to advise the government on how to implement the findings of the report, including how to provide training in tribology. Soon, centers for the study of tribology emerged across the UK, establishing deep expertise in the science of surfaces and placing it at the forefront of engineering research. Today, Jost is widely known as the father of modern tribology. We have him to thank for labs and doctoral degrees devoted to wear, lubrication, and the force that opposes motion.
Or, as we know it, friction.
This article How “tribology” became a new industrial science is featured on Big Think.