Richard Robson’s Nobel Prize journey began in 1974 with a mundane teaching task: building large wooden molecular models for first-year chemistry lectures at the University of Melbourne. As he drilled holes at precise angles and inserted rods representing chemical bonds into wooden balls representing atoms, a revolutionary thought emerged. What if real molecules could replace the balls, and actual chemical bonds could replace the rods?
Born June 4, 1937, in Glusburn, West Yorkshire, England, Robson followed a traditional academic path through Oxford University. He completed his undergraduate degree at Brasenose College in 1959, then earned his DPhil in 1962 under J.A. Barltrop at the Dyson Perrins Laboratory, studying the photochemistry of charge-transfer complexes. Postdoctoral work at Caltech (1962-1964) and Stanford with Nobel laureate Henry Taube (1964-1965) exposed him to American experimental approaches.
In 1966, Robson arrived in Australia by cargo ship to join the University of Melbourne as a lecturer in inorganic chemistry. He would remain there for nearly 60 years, advancing to senior lecturer (1970), reader (1992), and continuing as professor emeritus after official retirement—still working in the laboratory at age 88.
The wooden models assignment revealed a profound insight. “As I was constructing these models, plugging metal rods of clearly defined dimensions into wooden balls with accurately drilled holes, the thought arose: What if we used molecules in place of the balls and chemical bonds in place of the rods?” Robson recalled in his Nobel interview. “And everything else followed from that. That was in 1974.”
The wooden balls contained information—they were “pre-disposed to produce the structure that we were intending to produce” based on how holes were drilled. Each year when teaching solid-state structures, Robson thought “that was not a bad idea, I ought to do something about it.” But he waited nearly a decade before beginning bench work in “somewhat of a state of desperation.”
Robson chose the simplest crystal structure he could conceive: diamond. In diamond, each carbon atom connects to four others in a tetrahedral arrangement with 109.5-degree angles. He used copper(I) ions, which naturally prefer tetrahedral geometry, combined with a custom four-armed organic molecule—4′,4”,4”’,4””-tetracyanotetraphenylmethane—where each arm terminated in a nitrile group attracted to copper ions. When mixed, they self-assembled into ordered crystalline structures with diamond-like connectivity.
“At that time any sensible reasonable chemist would have said our chances of creating a crystal were zero, that you’d get tangled bird’s nests—amorphous, nasty stuff that you couldn’t handle,” Robson explained. “It turned out that it worked marvelously well. And we did get crystals. Some people thought, at the time, in the middle eighties, it was a whole load of rubbish. Anyhow, it didn’t turn out that way.”
In 1989, Robson and collaborator Bernard F. Hoskins published the seminal paper in the Journal of the American Chemical Society: “Infinite polymeric frameworks consisting of three dimensionally linked rod-like segments.” This described the first deliberately designed and constructed infinite framework—crystalline structures with more than half their content being liquid solvent, introducing engineered void space within crystals. Their 1990 follow-up paper expanded the concept, describing “a new class of scaffolding-like materials.”
Robson made remarkably prescient predictions in these early papers: an almost infinite range of structures could be produced, large channels and cavities would be developed, frameworks could be functionalized with catalytic sites, and substances could flow through and be chemically transformed. All proved correct. “I think what we started to make obvious and possible, involved a thousand times more work than we ourselves could possibly do,” he said with characteristic understatement.
Throughout the 1990s and 2000s, Robson’s group explored network topology, created various building block geometries, and developed complex interpenetrating frameworks where multiple networks weave through each other. His 1998 AngewandteChemie paper with Stuart R. Batten on “Interpenetrating Nets” became highly influential. “Robson-type ligands” entered standard coordination chemistry terminology.
Robson characterizes himself as largely isolated: “I was very isolated, I have been isolated most of my life.” Working alone without students initially, the field would be “not possible at all nowadays” without collaborative infrastructure. But he emphasizes the crucial role of collaborators: “It was only when I had collaboration with people like Bernard Hoskins and Brendan Abrahams that the whole thing became viable.” Bernard Hoskins provided crystallographic proof of Robson’s designs—”the crystallographers have given the whole area respectability that it wouldn’t have had.”
Long-time collaborator Brendan F. Abrahams, who has worked with Robson on recent projects including MOFs for removing anesthetic greenhouse gases from operating rooms, describes him as “a very modest person” with “amazing insights and ideas. When I first started to work with Richard I was absolutely amazed.”
Recognition came gradually. Robson received the Australian Research Council’s continuous support from 1987 through 2018. He was elected Fellow of the Australian Academy of Science in 2000 and Fellow of the Royal Society in 2022. The University of Melbourne established the Richard Robson Chair of Chemistry in 2024. But the Nobel Prize at 88 brings mixed emotions. “I wished the honour had come 30 years earlier, closer to the time of his work, so that he could have enjoyed it at the time,” he reflected. “There are upsides and downsides, and I’m quite old now. And handling all the nonsense that’s going to happen is going to be hard work.”
The day after the announcement, Robson returned to campus to conduct a first-year chemistry tutorial, embodying his lifelong commitment to teaching and the teaching-research nexus. The wooden models assignment that sparked his Nobel-winning insight demonstrates how fundamental teaching activities inspire groundbreaking research.
On receiving the call, Robson was practical: “I prepared fish for dinner with my wife, and then I did the washing up afterwards. I broke that rule by having a glass of very cheap wine.” His modesty extends to characterizing his contribution: “My contribution has been more like that of an artist or an architect. Highly non-scientific, in fact, and any scientific respectability has been due to people like Brendan Abrahams, Bernard Hoskins, and Tim Hudson… I just mix things up and get compounds, but the real science is numbers and angles, and bond distances.”
At 88, Robson continues daily laboratory work, mentoring students and collaborating with researchers worldwide. Deanna D’Alessandro at the University of Sydney, who collaborates with Robson on electron transport in MOFs, notes: “Like many other Australian scientists, I was inspired to pursue research in MOFs because of Professor Richard Robson. He’s still working in the lab at nearly 90, mentoring students, teaching and collaborating with many of us.”
The Australian Research Council emphasized: “What drove him wasn’t application or outcome—it was pure curiosity.” Vice-Chancellor Emma Johnston noted: “This is the kind of blue-sky research that not many people get the opportunity to explore. Australia needs to recognize that this long-term fundamental research is what allows us to then translate that research into products.”
From wooden balls and rods in 1974 to over 100,000 MOF structures synthesized worldwide by 2025, Richard Robson’s journey exemplifies patient, curiosity-driven science. The lone scientist who thought diamond structures might be buildable with molecules has provided the foundation for materials addressing climate change, water scarcity, and energy storage—Alfred Nobel’s vision of “the greatest benefit to humankind” realized through a simple teaching task.
-Raja Aditya
