Between Stars and Faith: A Conversation with Ludmila Schneider

There are scientists whose paths follow a straight, predictable line — and then there are those whose journeys zigzag through continents, disciplines, and deeply personal questions. Ludmila Schneider belongs firmly to the second category, and that is precisely why she deserves a place in SKYCR Dialogues.

Ludmila is a German physicist with a Master of Science from the Universität Hamburg, whose career has taken her through some of the most prestigious institutions in modern astrophysics: the European Southern Observatory, the Max Planck Institute for Astrophysics, and most recently the Institut für Radiobiologie in Munich. Her work spans observational astrophysics, multiwavelength data analysis, laser physics, and now instrumentation for cancer research — a trajectory that defies easy categorization and, for that very reason, is all the more fascinating.

But what truly sets Ludmila apart is not only her scientific breadth. She is a woman who has navigated the demanding, often unforgiving landscape of European academic physics with honesty, resilience, and a deeply personal sense of purpose rooted in both scientific curiosity and Christian faith. She has worked across cultures — from the telescopes of Giessen to the data pipelines of ESO, from the classrooms of Ghana to the detector labs of Munich — and she has done so while openly reflecting on the questions that science alone cannot answer.

We chose Ludmila for this Dialogue because her story speaks to something essential: that behind every dataset, every calibration curve, and every cross-matched catalog, there is a human being driven by wonder. And in her case, that wonder has always pointed upward — toward the universe, and beyond it.

Interview conducted by Homer Dávila, SKYCR.ORG

1. You describe your scientific path as deeply connected to both curiosity and personal faith. Could you tell us about your early life and the environment you grew up in? What first awakened your fascination with physics and the universe?

I come from a bit of a complicated background because both my parents had no fixed jobs during my childhood. But because they are both very educated people, they trained my siblings and me to have good grades. I was also glad to learn my father’s German precision and my mother’s Russian pragmatism. This really helped me to work hard and accurately, and to turn limited resources into well-crafted solutions.

When I was 12 years old I found God — or rather, he found me, because he actually took the initiative. I am a person who really loves details, and I dreamt about seeing God’s beauty reflected in his works, which is our universe. I wanted to understand how the world was built because I wanted to learn more about the thoughts of the God I love. Science always fascinated me with its capacity to explain things ranging from everyday phenomena up to the great mysteries of the universe.

I attended a Christian private school, and my science teachers — who shared both my passion for God and for science — encouraged me greatly and taught me many fascinating things. When I graduated from high school, I spent a year in Ghana as a social worker in a primary school. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. I met people I’m still friends with today and learned to love and appreciate a culture very different from my own.

When I came back, I was uncertain whether to study physics, chemistry, or biology. So I simply checked which of the three sciences offered the best job opportunities, and that is how I chose physics. I never regretted that choice.

Looking back, I sometimes wish my professors had mentioned that most industry jobs for physicists are in insurance, banks, IT companies, and business consulting. Those are great professions, but they are not really places to live out a passion for science. This is something young people should be aware of before studying physics, because research positions are limited, and quite a few graduates end up in industry whether they planned it or not.

2. During your Bachelor’s thesis, you built and calibrated a photometer from scratch. How did that hands-on instrumental experience shape your understanding of observational physics and data reliability?

The physics bachelor’s program in Germany is very general, covering many different fields. One of the first things I learned is how little we all know. Science gives us answers, but it also reveals all the questions that remain unanswered. I realized quite early that I am more of an experimentalist than a theorist. I always loved things you can see and touch, but higher mathematics and I never became close friends.

Because the physics course in Giessen had only 30 students, I was often the only woman in some tutorial groups. I never thought too much about it, except that you cannot hide from presenting your homework when you naturally stand out. I would like to encourage women in science not to overthink the fact that most of their classmates are male. At the end of the day, we are all there for the science, and if you are willing to learn, you can have very enriching discussions with anyone and be treated fairly.

It was not until my fifth semester that I realized I wanted to be an astronomer. Because there is no astronomy department in Giessen, a plasma physics professor held an astronomy lecture. When I attended it, I was so captivated that I reached out to him and asked if I could do my Bachelor’s thesis with him. He had always wanted an astronomy student, and because there is a telescope owned by the physics department in Giessen, I became the first person to do real science with that instrument. They handed me some leftover photodiodes from the GSI collider in Darmstadt and told me to build a photometer from them. The whole project was very improvised.

But I learned a great deal. I learned how much patience it takes to calibrate an instrument. I learned how to solder electrical components and how to analyze and visualize my own data. One of the most important things I learned was to expect unexpected problems. For example, our first outdoor measurement was ruined by static electricity because the cable was too long and got tangled in the wind. After that, we had to wait another week for the next clear night. When the data finally confirmed that my instrument was working properly, all the endless days of calibrating in the lab, the soldering and resoldering of components, and the nights of measurement paid off.

My instrument still exists, and the University of Giessen plans to continue research with it once they manage to install the telescope in a permanent location. Sadly, funding and bureaucratic processes have delayed this, but the effort continues.

3. Your ESO internship during the COVID period required remote work using STAR-LINK and focused on imaging dusty shells of AGB stars. What did that experience teach you about perseverance and scientific patience under constrained conditions?

My internship at ESO was my first real experience with large-scale data analysis, and getting it was not easy. Because ESO receives an enormous number of applications, I had to email almost all of their staff and attend about five interviews before finding a supervisor who accepted me. Sadly, even then the funding was initially cancelled. But when I reached out to him again a year later, we managed to make it work.

Because of COVID, my internship was entirely remote, which was genuinely disappointing — it had been designed to take place in Santiago de Chile and at the Very Large Telescope. I love travelling, so missing that experience was difficult. A remote setting also changes the nature of the relationship with your supervisor. On the other hand, it allowed me to complete the internship without interrupting my studies in Hamburg.

My supervisor was a very cheerful and supportive person who dedicated significant time and effort to guiding me. Because many file names were hard-coded in the pipeline script, and a stable remote desktop connection to Chile was simply impossible, it took two and a half of the three months just to get the code running. Those final two weeks became extremely intense. But in the end, our efforts produced beautiful images of R Leo and its dusty shell in two different wavebands. I also learned a great deal about bug-fixing, remote collaboration, and the effects of different imaging parameters on the final result.

4. Your Master’s thesis at DESY in laser physics became entirely data-analysis-based due to pandemic restrictions. Did that unexpected shift influence your later transition toward large-scale astrophysical data work?

Before COVID, my Master’s program in Hamburg was genuinely enjoyable. The university offers an extraordinary range of lectures and excursions, and I simply attended everything related to astronomy, ending up with twice the required number of courses.

Because the program is taught entirely in English, I warmly recommend it to students from all over the world. There are no tuition fees in Germany, and the only requirements are English proficiency and a Bachelor’s degree in physics. For anyone dreaming of studying or working in Germany, a Master’s degree there is an excellent opportunity.

When COVID started, things became complicated. I had planned an exchange program to Poland in 2020, but it was cancelled. Fortunately, I reapplied the following year and it became a wonderful experience. But in 2020, I suddenly found myself without a thesis. The only option available at the last minute was a topic in laser physics. In hindsight, this was a mistake — not because the subject was poor, but because anyone planning a PhD should choose a Master’s thesis that can naturally lead into doctoral research. PhD positions are overwhelmed with applicants, and applying to programs where no one knows your work is extremely difficult. If your Master’s thesis does not align with the field where you want to pursue a doctorate, you will write many unsuccessful applications.

The thesis itself also became complicated. It had to be completed entirely remotely, it was my first time using Python, and my supervisor — like many during COVID — had overcommitted to online obligations and lacked sufficient time for me. Young researchers should know that supervisors have a genuine duty to be available to their students. You should never hesitate to insist on meetings, assistance, and written feedback on your work.

«I wanted to understand how the world was built because I wanted to learn more about the thoughts of the God I love.»

Despite all of this, the underlying physics was fascinating. The experiment concerned the imaging of aligned molecules selected by quantum state. Sadly, I only managed to work with pre-measurement data. But the potential of that research is remarkable — it could eventually allow us to observe shifts in electron densities of a molecule during a chemical reaction, step by step. That prospect remains genuinely exciting.

5. At the Max Planck Institute, you analyzed evolved galaxies and cross-matched optical and radio catalogs. From a technical perspective, what is the most delicate or error-prone step in performing reliable multiwavelength cross-matching?

Getting to the Max Planck Institute again required emailing more than twenty people. But working there was wonderful — it is a highly dynamic international environment, and you also have the privilege of attending seminars presenting fresh, yet-unpublished data.

During this internship, the work was again largely learning by doing. My original supervisor had to hand me over to one of her postdocs due to her schedule, but he taught me a great deal. The first step was cleaning the SDSS data and selecting the appropriate galaxies before the actual cross-matching could begin. Because my work was to produce an updated version of one of my professor’s published figures, the data selection had to be carried out with great care.

The most critical step in cross-matching multiwavelength datasets from different instruments is the handling of coordinates. When you cross-match two optical datasets, the objects share the same identifiers. But the radio counterparts of optical sources follow an entirely different naming convention. You therefore need to decide carefully how close the radio emission must lie to the optical position of a galaxy for the two to be counted as the same source — because the coordinates will never be identical, since radio and optical emission originate from different regions within the galaxy.

6. When combining radio and optical surveys such as LOFAR and SDSS, how do you deal with positional uncertainties, selection biases, and the risk of false associations in statistically large datasets?

Essentially, my supervisor helped me establish a threshold. Below that threshold — defined in right ascension and declination coordinates — the radio and optical sources were considered the same object. Above it, they were not.

7. How has working with large survey data changed the way you think about galaxy evolution compared to studying individual objects in more classical observational astronomy?

Because my internship lasted only six months, most of what I learned was focused on data analysis rather than deep scientific interpretation. However, the broader theoretical questions did prompt me to reflect on some fundamental issues.

Because of unresolved problems such as the absence of viable dark matter and dark energy candidates, the lack of observational evidence for inflation, and no confirmed detections of symmetry breaking or r-, s-, and p-process nucleosynthesis here is no direct observational evidence, I do not hold the Big Bang theory as an established truth. There is no doubt it is a brilliant theoretical framework, and that many very intelligent people have devoted enormous effort to developing it. But the absence of experimental confirmation in such crucial areas gives me reason to question whether it fully describes our universe. Time will tell whether emerging cosmological models such as MOND offer a more accurate description. I personally believe that any theory of the universe that does not account for its creator will ultimately fall short of a final answer — but that, of course, is also what makes science so beautiful: you can always learn more, and you can always discuss competing theories in the pursuit of truth.

8. Your background spans astrophysics, laser physics, engineering, and now radiobiology. How do these disciplines interact in your scientific reasoning, and do you believe modern astrophysics increasingly requires interdisciplinary researchers?

My flexibility has helped me find internships and professional opportunities. Because I have not yet secured a PhD position, I was glad to contribute to data analysis projects for professors I know personally — even when those opportunities were informal or unpaid. They still taught me valuable skills, such as working with different coordinate systems in the Milky Way, analyzing CCD images, and operating within a Linux environment.

A career-focused researcher might identify a specialization early and pursue it directly from a Bachelor’s thesis through to a PhD and beyond. But interests and ambitions tend to evolve, and prime expert positions are few. I have always found it deeply enriching to meet a wide range of people and explore different fields. The universe is, after all, a unified whole, and different sciences — or different branches of physics — simply examine different aspects of the same reality.

For someone like me, who does science primarily out of a love for unsolved mysteries, each new field I explore adds a fascinating new perspective. Meeting people with very different scientific approaches also helps me appreciate their methods. Theorists, experimentalists, and instrumentalists often inhabit separate worlds: some seek to solve grand equations and predict new phenomena mathematically; others search for statistically significant signals; and others possess the deeply practical knowledge of making instruments function and knowing what is technically feasible. But in the end, we are all scientists, working together toward a better understanding of the universe.

Currently, I am again working with instrumentation at the Institut für Radiobiologie, where I am responsible for installing a new radiation detector used in cancer research. The biologists and physicians lead the primary research, while I support them by ensuring the instrument performs reliably. Even without conducting independent research, it is valuable to learn how to bring an instrument to operational readiness, analyze its data, and support colleagues in their work on new cancer therapies.

I recommend flexibility and openness to everyone. Many opportunities that did not initially seem exciting later turned out to be among the most useful experiences of my career.

«There is no intrinsically stupid person. Being stuck or having no talent for that subject or this one doesn’t prevent the person from learning and catching up in their own time if someone takes that time with them.»

9. Beyond research, you dedicate time to tutoring children and supporting educational initiatives abroad. How do you see the relationship between advanced scientific research and social or educational responsibility?

I am deeply saddened by the way the world divides itself into subcultures based on nationality, education, or social background. Having grown up in a modest family, I have always dreamed of helping people build better futures for themselves. Our education system simply cannot leave no child behind — one teacher with thirty students is already outnumbered.

I began tutoring at age fourteen to earn extra pocket money, and over the years I worked with a remarkable variety of students: school children, university students preparing for physics examinations, and even a 38-year-old carpenter who needed to refresh his high school physics to qualify as a master craftsman. Through all of them, I learned to appreciate people from very different backgrounds.

During my time in Ghana, I taught primary school children. When I later returned, I taught their teachers how to conduct simple experiments using household items — because most educational books are written for Western classrooms and assume the availability of chemicals and instruments simply not accessible in places like Ghana or Uganda. Small, practical adaptations made an enormous difference in how teachers were able to engage their students.

I know that I became who I am through the help, support, and time of others. Every person is a unique creation and therefore both worth knowing and worthy of support. There is no intrinsically incapable person. Being stuck or lacking natural aptitude for a particular subject does not prevent someone from learning and progressing, given the right guidance and the right time.

I warmly encourage all scientists and scientifically curious people to develop the art of explaining science. It helps break cultural barriers between people of different educational backgrounds, and it allows more people to experience the beauty of science without being overwhelmed by abstractions they cannot yet access.

10. Next-generation facilities such as the Vera Rubin Observatory and the SKA are approaching full scientific operation. How do you envision the future of cross-matching and data integration shaping astrophysics in the coming decade?

There are several fascinating open questions I hope will be addressed in the coming decades. The SKA could, for example, investigate the so-called odd radio circles, which are currently among the most mysterious radio sources known. It may also image the radio lobes of giant radio galaxies over time, allowing us to observe their expansion in real time. Surveys like the Vera Rubin Observatory typically lead to the discovery of large numbers of new objects, adding statistical depth to existing datasets and helping us refine theoretical models. Particularly interesting targets include brown dwarfs and metal-poor red dwarfs. The search for exoplanets — and eventually exomoons — remains one of the most compelling frontiers.

I am also personally looking forward to LISA, which will open an entirely new observational window on the universe through the detection of gravitational waves at wavelengths yet unexplored. And JUICE promises to deliver exciting new data from the Jovian system. To me, every newly discovered object carries its own beauty and its own invitation to explore the known universe more deeply — and sometimes to find the surprising and the unexpected. That is what will always make science a wonderful pursuit.

Editorial Reflection

When I first read Ludmila Schneider’s responses, I paused for a long time before writing a single word of this reflection. Not because I lacked things to say, but because there was simply too much worth saying.

Ludmila represents something that I believe our scientific community — especially the Latin American community, which I speak to most directly through SKYCR — often struggles to articulate clearly: that science is not a cold, impersonal machinery of facts. It is a deeply human endeavor, shaped by the lives, beliefs, struggles, and wonders of the people who practice it. Ludmila’s path — from a household with no stable income, to the roof of a university building in Giessen with a self-build photometer, to the pipelines of ESO and the corridors of the Max Planck Institute — is not a story of a perfectly engineered career. It is a story of someone who followed curiosity wherever it led, even when it led somewhere unexpected.

What moves me most, as both a scientist and a communicator, is her honesty. She speaks openly about the failures of the academic system to prepare young physicists for what awaits them. She speaks about supervisors who disappear when they are needed most.

And then there is the question of faith. Ludmila is a scientist who believes in God — and she has never seen those two identities as contradictory. I respect that deeply. As someone who has spent years standing beneath the night sky, explaining to thousands of people the distances between galaxies and the physics of stellar death, I understand that the universe does not become less astonishing when you understand it better. For some, that astonishment ends at the equations. For others, it opens into something larger. Both are valid ways of being human before the cosmos.

As for her scientific work itself — her cross-matching between LOFAR and SDSS, her photometric calibration, her data analysis of AGB stars at ESO — these are not the accomplishments of a peripheral figure. These are the foundations of modern observational astrophysics. The unglamorous, essential, painstaking work of making sure the data is clean, the coordinates are right, and the associations are real. Without people willing to do this work with rigor and care, the beautiful images and the grand theoretical discoveries would simply not exist.

Ludmila Schneider is still early in her career. She has not yet found the PhD position she is searching for, and the academic system has not always been kind to her. But she continues. She tutors children. She builds detectors. She explains science to carpenters and school teachers in Ghana. She looks forward to LISA and Vera Rubin with the same sense of wonder she had at twelve years old, looking at the universe and seeing the mind of her creator reflected in it.

That, to me, is what a scientist looks like. Not a title. Not a position. A person who cannot stop asking questions, who turns every constraint into a lesson, and who believes — whether through equations or through faith — that the universe is worth understanding.

Welcome to SKYCR Dialogues, Ludmila. It has been an honor.

By Homer Dávila, SKYCR.ORG