You’ve heard of antimatter, right?
For each type of particle, there is a rare kind of evil twin with the opposite charge, called an anti-particle. When an anti-proton meets a proton, they annihilate each other in a giant blast of energy.
I see a lot of questions online about antimatter. One recurring theme is people asking a very general question: how does antimatter work?
If you’ve just heard the pop physics explanation, antimatter probably sounds like magic. What about antimatter lets it destroy normal matter? Does it need to touch? How long does it take? And what about neutral particles like neutrons?
You find surprisingly few good explanations of this online, but I can explain why. Physicists like me don’t expect antimatter to be confusing in this way, because to us, antimatter isn’t doing anything all that special. When a particle and an antiparticle annihilate, they’re doing the same thing that any other pair of particles do when they do…basically anything else.
Instead of matter and antimatter, let’s talk about one of the oldest pieces of evidence for quantum mechanics, the photoelectric effect. Scientists shone light at a metal, and found that if the wavelength of the light was short enough, electrons would spring free, causing an electric current. If the wavelength was too long, the metal wouldn’t emit any electrons, no matter how much light they shone. Einstein won his Nobel prize for the explanation: the light hitting the metal comes in particle-sized pieces, called photons, whose energy is determined by the wavelength of the light. If the individual photons don’t have enough energy to get an electron to leave the metal, then no electron will move, no matter how many photons you use.
What happens to the photons after they hit the metal?
They go away. We say they are absorbed, an electron absorbs a photon and speeds up, increasing its kinetic energy so it can escape.
But we could just as easily say the photon is annihilated, if we wanted to.
In the photoelectric effect, you start with one electron and one photon, they come together, and you end up with one electron and no photon. In proton-antiproton annihilation, you start with a proton and an antiproton, they come together, and you end up with no protons or antiprotons, but instead “energy”…which in practice, usually means two photons.
That’s all that happens, deep down at the root of things. The laws of physics are rules about inputs and outputs. Start with these particles, they come together, you end up with these other particles. Sometimes one of the particles stays the same. Sometimes particles seem to transform, and different kinds of particles show up. Sometimes some of the particles are photons, and you think of them as “just energy”, and easy to absorb. But particles are particles, and nothing is “just energy”. Each thing, absorption, decay, annihilation, each one is just another type of what we call interactions.
What makes annihilation of matter and antimatter seem unique comes down to charges. Interactions have to obey the laws of physics: they conserve energy, they conserve momentum, and they conserve charge.
So why can an antiproton and a proton annihilate to pure photons, while two protons can’t? A proton and an antiproton have opposite charge, a photon has zero charge. You could combine two protons to make something else, but it would have to have the same charge as two protons.
What about neutrons? A neutron has no electric charge, so you might think it wouldn’t need antimatter. But a neutron has another type of charge, called baryon number. In order to annihilate one, you’d need an anti-neutron, which would still have zero electric charge but would have the opposite baryon number. (By the way, physicists have been making anti-neutrons since 1956.)
On the other hand, photons actually have no charge. So do Higgs bosons. So one Higgs boson can become two photons, without annihilating with anything else. Each of these particles can be called its own antiparticle: a photon is also an antiphoton, a Higgs is also an anti-Higgs.
Because particle-antiparticle annihilation follows the same rules as other interactions between particles, it also takes place via the same forces. When a proton and an antiproton annihilate each other, they typically do this via the electromagnetic force. This is why you end up with light, which is an electromagnetic wave. Like everything in the quantum world, this annihilation isn’t certain. Is has a chance to happen, proportional to the strength of the interaction force involved.
What about neutrinos? They also appear to have a kind of charge, called lepton number. That might not really be a conserved charge, and neutrinos might be their own antiparticles, like photons. However, they are much less likely to be annihilated than protons and antiprotons, because they don’t have electric charge, and thus their interaction doesn’t depend on the electromagnetic force, but on the much weaker weak nuclear force. A weaker force means a less likely interaction.
Antimatter might seem like the stuff of science fiction. But it’s not really harder to understand than anything else in particle physics.
(I know, that’s a low bar!)
It’s just interactions. Particles go in, particles go out. If it follows the rules, it can happen, if it doesn’t, it can’t. Antimatter is no different.

This is the clearest explanation I’ve seen for how the whole matter/anti-matter thing works, thank you!
also this part was never clear to me:
The way it’s discussed in pop science it seems like every time matter & anti-matter particles touch they automatically annihilate, releasing energy. (And, I remember reading somewhere once, that the reason the makeup of the universe is as it is, is that there just happened to be a smidge more matter than anti-matter at the start, so all the initial annihilation happened, it was matter that remained to build universe out of) So does the bit I quoted above mean that you could potentially have anti-protons & anti-neutrons (&c) peacefully floating about in the universe?
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There are some! A measurable but small fraction of cosmic rays are antiparticles, mostly antiprotons and positrons, whizzing about the universe.
They mostly don’t date back all the way to the big bang, though, instead more often coming from things like supernovas that happened more recently. The longer they last the more chances they have to collide with normal matter, so it’s quite unlikely that we’d detect any that old.
I’m less sure about neutrinos. There’s supposed to be a cosmic neutrino background, which hasn’t been conclusively detected yet, of neutrinos from very early in the universe. It would be more likely for antineutrinos to survive from then. But I think that still would be from after most of the matter-antimatter annihilation happened. Before the cosmic neutrino background was created, the universe was so hot and dense that neutrinos, despite the weak forces they obey, were constantly interacting with other particles because there were just so many particles to interact with. For the same reason, antimatter from that era would probably have been annihilated pretty quickly.
Again, though, probably doesn’t mean definitely. There ought to be a tiny tiny amount of primordial antimatter still floating around out there, so tiny that it would be basically impossible to detect.
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Off topic, but I’d love to hear in a future blog post from you what you have to say about a recent debate over the term “scientific consensus”, and alternatives to it, raised in the journal Science recently. Anthropologist John Hawks has a blog post on the topic.
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Interesting! I’ll have to let it stew a bit I think. My initial reaction is that any take of the form “we should say X” usually misses the point: different contexts and goals demand different terminology and emphasis. But I think there is a softened “consider using X” claim that’s worth discussing.
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