What did your parents do?
My father, Hans Löffler, was a physician and microbiologist. My mother, Anna Maria Löffler-Pfister, was a housewife, as was typical at that time. She had wanted to study botany, but she wasn’t allowed to because she had already met my father at a dance class. The reasoning was: “She’ll get married soon anyway, so why study?” So instead, she trained as a nurse. Her love of plants never left her though she later poured it all into her gardens.

Where did your family live after the time in Geneva?
My parents moved with us – my sister, my brother, and me – to the countryside near Bern. For my mother, who was from Zurich, it was quite a culture shock. We felt a bit like outsiders; like we didn’t really fit in.

Do you have a particular memory of that time?
Oh yes. In winter, for example, we once had a school play. We were all little snowflakes and supposed to wear white dresses. But I didn’t have one. If I had asked my mother, she probably would have given me this ecru-colored embroidered skirt, which was so different. So instead, I just wore what I had on all week: a dark brown and red plaid dress. The teacher looked horrified, but I still had to go on stage. I was the only dark brown snowflake among all the white ones. Over time, I somehow learned to be okay with standing out, maybe also thanks to my parents’ unconventional nature. When I was fifteen, we moved to Riehen near Basel.

Was it easier to settle in here?
Not at first. I spoke French and Bernese German, but not the Basel dialect. I secretly practiced at night, trying to imitate my grandfather, Wilhelm Löffler, from Basel. Over time, the feeling of being “different” faded. And I had also learned not to let myself be boxed in, and to try going my own way.

You went to high school in Basel. Was that common for girls at that time?
In Basel, yes, but not in Bern. I was actually supposed to enroll in a teacher’s training college because I was good with children. In Bern, hardly any kids went to high school at the age of ten back then. But then I had this accident, a dare gone wrong, I jumped off a roof and hurt my back so badly I couldn’t go to school for almost a year. After that, I went to a private school, and my teacher there said, “She belongs in a Gymnasium.” So, in the end, that accident was a blessing in disguise. In Basel, I went to the girls’ Gymnasium on Kohlenberg.

And after graduation you wanted to study medicine...
At first, I actually wanted to study theology. I was fascinated by philosophy and religion. We had one of the first female theologians as a teacher, and we had these wonderful discussions. But in the end, I decided to study medicine. I thought, “You can’t go wrong with that, at least you can do something good.” But an internship at the children’s hospital in Geneva with children with cerebral palsy, and a student job as a night watchman here at the Basel cantonal hospital, opened my eyes. I just couldn’t handle the suffering. I felt helpless and useless. That’s when I realized that medicine wasn’t for me and that I really wanted to understand things from the ground up.

And how did you end up in chemistry?
Even when I was studying medicine, I was fascinated by chemistry. I asked my father what he thought, and he said, “Yes, why not, if that’s what interests you?” That encouraged me to switch my subject. And so, I moved from anatomy next door to inorganic chemistry.

How was that change?
In the first week, Prof. Fallab came into the lab. He already knew me from the medical lectures and said, “Fräulein Löffler, what are you doing here?” I said, “I’m studying chemistry now, and I want to do biochemistry later.” He replied, “Study real chemistry and forget that nonsense.” That’s how people talked back then. There were very few women, but that didn’t bother me. I progressed quickly and finished in seven semesters. The real challenges came later.

In what way?
I was fascinated by research and wanted to do a PhD. So, I applied to the renowned Prof. Eschenmoser at ETH Zurich. He said he’d never had a female doctoral student but could probably find a topic suitable for a woman.

But in the end, you stayed in Basel?
Yes, because Gerhard Schwarz had just been appointed to the Institute of Physical Chemistry. In his lecture, he mentioned that he was looking for PhD students and was working on fast kinetics and nuclear magnetic resonance (NMR). I had done a special course in NMR during my studies, so I wanted to learn more about this technique. Schwarz told me he didn’t do NMR himself, but that someone from America was coming who did. He would ask him and told me to come back in three weeks. When I returned, he said, “The American doesn’t want you.” And so, I did my PhD with Gerhard Schwarz on fast kinetics.

And the “American”?
That turned out to be Joachim. Later I found out he had never been asked, which was probably lucky for me. We hit it off right away. When he was appointed to the Biozentrum in 1972 and the first NMR machine arrived, we started working together. Finally, I could do NMR research.

So, all's well that ends well?
No, that would be too simple. By then, Joachim and I had married, and I was told that I couldn’t work for your husband. The professors on the floor said, “You can work with us, but not with him.” I worked with Joachim anyway, just without pay. We could manage on one salary; we worked hard and spent little. After a scientifically successful year, the resistance slowly faded. Maybe my childhood training to follow my own way despite opposition helped me here.

As a couple in science, did you discuss research at home?
Joachim kept work strictly separate. He was very structured, including in terms of time. Evenings were for reading literature. I, on the other hand, could talk about science day and night, my mind never really stops thinking. And with three kids and part-time work, I often only started writing in the evenings – writing was relaxing. Joachim deliberately let me become independent.

Working as a woman wasn’t always socially accepted back then. Did you feel that?
Oh yes, there were always comments. When my eldest son started school, his teacher said, “I hope there aren’t any working mothers here.” We laughed quietly but of course didn’t show it. Here at the Biozentrum, no one really made an issue of it, thankfully.

Joachim launched the Marie Heim-Vögtlin Program, a support scheme for mothers in research. What was the reason for this?
After our third child was born, I took five years off. Then, quite unexpectedly, I got a job offer, which helped me get back to work faster. Joachim also offered me a position, which I gladly took, so my return was smooth. But many mothers never got the chance to continue their research. And so, Joachim came up with the idea of a fellowship supported by the Swiss National Science Foundation, to help women scientists with families return to research. He was a real initiator and bridge-builder, also between academia and industry. Later, he created the Werner von Siemens Fellowships, which today are known as Biozentrum PhD Fellowships.

You also dealt with ethical issues and later even organized and held an ethics course for biologists and pharmacists. How did that come about?
That started in 1998, when the “Gene Protection Initiative” came up for a national vote. It would have become a big problem for Swiss research. Even though genetics wasn’t my field, several newspapers asked me for comments – they thought criticism might sound softer coming from a woman. After the initiative was rejected, bioethics became a topic at the Faculty of Philosophy II, and I was elected as ethics delegate. The Biozentrum decided to introduce a bioethics lecture, and Joachim, who was Biozentrum chairman at the time, said: “You do it.” I was happy to do it. My long-standing interest in philosophy really helped.

With so much dedication, you must have been a role model for many. What about you: Did you have a role model in your career?
Yes, my great-aunt, Martha Herzog. She was one of the first female doctors in Basel. And my aunt on my father’s side, Susanna Woodtli-Löffler. She wrote an interesting book about women’s emancipation. When Joachim was flipping through it, he came across Marie Heim-Vögtlin, Switzerland’s first female doctor, and decided to name the fellowship after her.

What advice would you give to young researchers today?
Try to find out what you really enjoy doing. And if you don’t like it, have the courage to change subjects. Ask “how” and “why.” And if questions and answers also come to mind while washing dishes or cooking, then you’ve found the appropriate profession.

¹ Anna Seelig. From lipid bilayers to the innate immune system. Contribution to the special Biochimica et Biophysica Acta issue dedicated to Joachim Seelig.