We say electricity "flows" a dozen times a day. But the electrons in a copper wire don't flow — not the way water does.
When water moves through a pipe, the molecules collide with each other constantly and move together: fast in the middle, slow near the walls, eddies in the corners. That's what "flow" means. Electrons in a wire do something else entirely. Each one ricochets off impurity atoms and vibrating lattice ions like a pinball, paying no attention to its neighbors. There's a faint average drift in one direction, but calling it flow is generous.
Cory Dean at Columbia put the difference in one line: "Water is seeing nothing but other water." Electrons don't see each other. So they don't flow.
Except — as a February 2026 Quanta Magazine feature laid out — over the past few years physicists have actually made electrons flow like water. They've watched electron whirlpools, and they've driven an electron fluid supersonic and produced a shock wave. This post is about how that became possible and what it means.
Left: an ordinary copper wire. Electrons (blue) zigzag off impurities (grey) and the vibrating lattice. Right: ultraclean graphene. Electrons collide mainly with each other and move as a single fluid — fast in the center, slow at the walls, a vortex in the corner.
Why electrons normally can't be a fluid
A fluid needs one condition: its members must collide with each other far more often than with anything else. Water molecules hit other water molecules overwhelmingly more often than they hit the pipe wall. Those collisions exchange momentum and produce collective motion — "let's all go this way." That's a fluid.
In copper, the order is reversed. Before an electron can hit another electron, it hits an impurity atom or a thermal lattice vibration (a phonon). Each collision hands momentum to the lattice. That momentum loss iselectrical resistance. With no chance to share momentum with neighbors, no collective motion emerges. Every electron for itself. Pinball.
So the recipe for a fluid of electrons is clear: a material with almost no impurities and suppressed lattice vibrations — so clean that the only thing an electron can hit is another electron. Soviet physicist Radii Gurzhi predicted the consequences theoretically in 1963. No such material existed, so it stayed on paper for forty years.
The answer came out of a pencil
That material arrived in 2004: graphene, a single atomic layer of carbon in a honeycomb lattice, peeled off graphite with sticky tape.
What makes graphene special is near-perfect atomic order. You aren't growing a crystal and hoping for purity — you're lifting one layer off an already perfect crystal, so impurity density is tiny. Encapsulate it in hexagonal boron nitride and the environment is screened out too. For the first time, electrons hit each other before they hit anything else.
2017, Geim's group: warm it up, resistance goes down. They carved graphene into a narrow channel, ran current, and raised the temperature. In any normal metal, higher temperature means more lattice vibration and higher resistance. Here it dropped. Warmer electrons collided with each other more often, and that steered them away from the walls into a smooth central stream — the same Poiseuille flow as water in a pipe, fast in the middle, slow at the edges. Exactly what Gurzhi predicted 54 years earlier. It's now called the Gurzhi effect.
2022, Weizmann Institute: whirlpools, directly imaged. They shaped tungsten diselenide into a channel with round side chambers — Mickey Mouse ears. If the electrons are a fluid, the main current passing the chamber should spin up a backward-rotating vortex inside it, like an eddy in a river's backwater. They imaged current circulating backward in the chamber. Pinball electrons cannot do that.
2025: a supersonic shock wave made of electrons
This is the experiment that made me want to write this post.
Johannes Geurs, in Dean's lab at Columbia, carved bilayer graphene into the shape of a rocket engine nozzle — specifically a de Laval nozzle: wide inlet, narrow throat, flaring outlet. An hourglass on its side.
Graphene carved into a rocket-nozzle shape. Electron fluid accelerates through the throat past the "speed of sound" for electrons, slams into slower fluid downstream, and forms a shock front (orange). The probe above is an atomic force microscope tip mapping it.
Rocket nozzles have that shape for a reason: gas reaches the speed of sound at the throat and goes supersonic in the flaring section. It's how rockets work.
An electron fluid has its own "speed of sound" — the speed at which density disturbances propagate — roughly 300 km/s in graphene. Geurs pushed electron fluid through the nozzle. Electrons accelerated through the throat exceeded that speed, then plowed into slower electrons downstream, compressing into a shock wave. A sonic boom, inside a sheet of carbon two atoms thick.
They saw it by scanning an atomic force microscope tip over the surface to read out electric field variations, and mapped where the shock front stood. Thomas Scaffidi at UC Irvine called it "really the frontier right now."
| Ordinary metal (copper wire) | Ultraclean graphene | |
|---|---|---|
| Electrons mostly collide with | Impurities, lattice vibrations | Other electrons |
| Momentum | Lost to the lattice every collision | Conserved among electrons |
| Motion | Pinball (every electron for itself) | Fluid (collective) |
| Raise temperature | Resistance rises | Resistance falls (Gurzhi effect) |
| At a corner | Nothing | Vortex |
| Through a narrow throat | Nothing | Supersonic acceleration + shock |
Meanwhile in India: a textbook law broken 200-fold
Columbia isn't the only place this is happening. In 2025, Arindam Ghosh's group at the Indian Institute of Science reported in Nature Physics that ultraclean graphene violates the Wiedemann–Franz law.
That law has held since 1853: a metal that conducts electricity well also conducts heat well, because electrons carry both, so electrical and thermal conductivity scale together. It's why a silver spoon in hot soup heats up fast. But tuned to graphene's Dirac point — the boundary between metal and insulator — electrical conductivity went up while thermal conductivity went down. At low temperature the mismatch exceeded the law's prediction by more than 200 times.
Same root cause: electrons moving not as individual particles but as an extremely low-viscosity fluid. Researchers call this state a Dirac fluid, and mathematically it behaves like the quark–gluon plasma produced in particle accelerators. A sliver of pencil lead imitating the early universe.
What this has to do with your life
Honestly: nothing yet. This needs cryogenic temperatures, ultraclean material, and engineered geometry all at once, and it's a long way from a phone. But three directions matter.
1. A new floor for resistance. Pinball resistance is set by impurities. Fluid resistance is set by the shape of the channel, the way a pipe's diameter governs water flow. In theory, hydrodynamic flow can have lowerresistance than ballistic transport, where electrons hit nothing at all. That opens the idea of designing circuits as plumbing rather than wiring.
2. A handle on materials nobody could explain. Strange metals near high-temperature superconductors have defied conventional electron theory for decades. The view that they may be electron fluids of some kind is gaining ground. Andrew Lucas at the University of Colorado calls it "something that can't be explained in any textbook paradigm."
3. A different way to compute. Instead of tracking 1023 electrons individually, you describe the system with a handful of fluid variables — density, viscosity, pressure. In an earlier post I wrote about quasiparticles, where treating a wave as a particle makes the math tractable. This is the mirror image: treating particles as a fluid makes a different class of problems tractable.
What stayed with me
Study solid-state physics long enough and you keep rediscovering how conditional the statement "an electron is a particle" really is. Particle-like behavior isn't the electron's nature — it's how electrons behave when the surroundings are too messy for them to talk to each other. Clean up the environment and they flow, swirl, and shock like water.
Gurzhi predicted this in 1963. The material that could test it appeared 41 years later, and the first experiment took another 13. The theory wasn't wrong; the material didn't exist. I see the same thing working in the semiconductor industry: the gap between "theoretically possible" in a textbook and "reproducible on a production line" is, most of the time, a question of how clean you can make it. We live less in an age of theory than in an age of cleanliness.
References
- Quanta Magazine, "Physicists Make Electrons Flow Like Water" (Feb 11, 2026)
- Aniket Majumdar et al., "Universality in quantum critical flow of charge and heat in ultraclean graphene," Nature Physics 21, 1374 (2025). DOI: 10.1038/s41567-025-02972-z
- D. A. Bandurin et al., "Negative local resistance caused by viscous electron backflow in graphene," Science 351, 1055 (2016)
This post explains published research for a general audience; see the sources for precise figures and conditions. Part of an ongoing series on solid-state physics in everyday life. The Korean version is on my Naver blog.








