The more I learn about electricity, the less I understand it

There's an episode of Family Guy where they go to the science museum, and under a banner reading 'The Miracle Of Electricity' is an old man turning an ordinary household lamp on and off. When he sees the crowd staring at him, he says, "What? You don't think this is a miracle? When I saw this at the aught-six World's Fair, I almost crapped my pants!" I completely agree. Honestly, all I want to know is how the TV works. Or how light bulbs work. Or how the computer I'm typing this on works. Or how the subway train I'm riding works. I feel uncomfortable about the yawning gap between my dependency on electricity and my knowledge of it.

I've had opportunities my whole life to learn. I did the thing as a kid where you wire a christmas tree bulb to a nine-volt battery. I went to very good schools, where I learned the Maxwell equations and the basics of quantum electrodynamics. I continue to read books, talk to my friends in the science world, play with interactive web pages, and generally scour the memosphere for information on the subject. After all this effort, I don't feel like I'm getting any closer. What I'm starting to suspect is that nobody really understands electricity at the gut level. People have discovered a very useful and accurate set of mathematical descriptions of it, and the mastery of those descriptions has enabled us to make cell phones and iPods and what have you. But almost no one seems to be able to verbalize or even visualize the meaning of the equations. What follows is my attempt to summarize the subject for myself. If anyone reading this is a scientist who can clarify further, I'd appreciate it.

So first of all, when I say electricity, I mean the electromagnetic force as described by the standard model of particle physics. More specifically, I mean the interactions between photons and electrons that underlie electricity (and most of the other physical phenomena we encounter in our daily lives on Earth as well.) Where I run into trouble is when I ask what electrons and photons are, and why they are the way they are. The central difficulty is that electrons and photons aren't 'things' at all, in the sense of the macroscopic objects that we're used to. Some physicists describe electrons and photons as bumps or knots in fields, the electron and electromagnetic fields respectively. So what is an electron field, or an electromagnetic field? This is where the texts all get very evasive, and who can blame them? Fields are even less 'thing-like' than particles are - they're invisible and intangible. The concept of fields resists us when we try to encode it with body imagery. The best way to get a grip on fields so far is with computer visualization.

Here are some quotes from Roger Penrose's book The Road To Reality. (Lest I come across as math-ier than I am, I bought this weighty tome purely for the illustrations, all beautiful ink drawings by the author.) Roger Penrose is a greybearded eminence among mathematicians and physicists, not a crazy person. And yet here's how he describes a single electron:

We form a picture in which there are two 'particles', each of which is massless, and where each one is continually converting itself into the other one... Being massless, each should be traveling with the speed of light, but we can think of them, rather, as 'jiggling' backwards and forwards...

Penrose nicknames these two components of the resonating electron as the zig and zag particles. The zig particle constantly and rapidly spins clockwise (left-handed), at the same rate as the zag particle spins counterclockwise (right-handed). Taken together, you can think of the zig and zag as a single particle bouncing back and forth, whose velocity is constantly reversing itself, and whose spin direction is constant overall. This picture is fine when we view the electron from afar, but if we want to really consider it up close, the electron takes on greater and greater complexity:

The actual motion is composed of a vast number of such individual processes (in fact infinitely many of them) all superposed, and we may think of the electron's perceived motion as being some sort of 'average'...

Even this describes merely the free electron. An actual electron will be continually undergoing interactions with other particles (such as photons, the quanta of the electromagnetic field.) All interaction processes should also be included in the overall superposition.

This shimmering, twinkling entity sounds more like a form of energy than a thing, and physicists since Einstein have considered matter and energy to be fundamentally interchangeable at the subatomic level. Protons, neutrons and their constituent up and down quarks all have this vibrating, flickering quality, and all have the zig and zag components. Rather weirdly, only the left-handed zig components experience the weak nuclear force, the one that transforms one flavor of subatomic particle into another. Is this the most meshuggenah thing you've ever heard?

The electricity in the wires comes from the rotation of giant electric dynamos at your local power plant. For some reason unknown to me, rotating a magnet around a wire creates an electric current. To make the magnet rotate, the usual method is to burn something (coal, oil, natural gas or what have you) to heat water into steam, which then turns the big turbines. If you're lucky enough to have some other form of mechanical energy around, like a waterfall or a geothermal vent, hooray, free electricity. Nuclear power plants heat the water with energy released from the radioactive decay of uranium or some other lively unstable element. Maybe someday we'll find a better way to get the turbines to turn, though I wouldn't hold my breath for room-temperature fusion.

What makes magnets magnetic? It turns out to be the magnetism of their component atoms' electrons. Each electron, as it spins, acts as its own little magnetic dynamo. In most stable materials, the outermost orbitals of each atom are filled with their quota of electrons, and all the electrons cancel each others' magnetism out. Metals are unusual in that their outermost electron orbitals are unfilled. The outer electrons are free to flip their spin axes this way and that. This freedom to change orientation is what makes metals such good electrical conductor. If you put a whole bunch of freely-wiggling electrons in a magnetic field, their spin spin axes tend to line up. In iron and its chemical cousins, the electrons can stay lined up even after you take the external field away. Taken together, all these tiny spins generate a magnetic field big enough to be felt on the macroscopic scale, thus making your pictures stick to the fridge.

Physicists use the word 'potential' to describe the energy stored in a given thing at a given instant. Gravitational potential is very easy to see. If something is higher off the ground, it has greater gravitational potential. As it falls, it releases its gravitational potential, converting it into kinetic energy. Electromagnetic potential is invisible, and much harder to conceptualize. The third rail looks exactly like the first and second rails. You'd never guess just by looking at it that an electrically charged object could kill you instantly if you so much as brushed a fingertip against it. No wonder cows are terrified of electric fences.

What's particularly strange and counterintuitive about electrical potential is that if you raise it across all points in a circuit by the same amount, the circuit will still operate identically. Think of a bird perched on a high-voltage power line. The air insulates the bird from the ground, so there's no difference between the bird's electrical potential and the wire's. The absolute value of the potential for both bird and wire is large, but it's also irrelevant. What matters to electromagnetism are differences of potential across a circuit's various components. You'd think that a wire at a higher potential would glow, or hum, or have lightning shooting off of it, but again, electric potential is invisible. We can only see the photons that go shooting off when the potential gets released.

Our direct sensory experience of electromagnetism is severely limited, and other animals detect it in ways we're only beginning to understand. People at the Theoretical and Computational Biophysics Group think that birds can see the Earth's magnetic field. Literally see it, the way we see patterns in wood grain. This could explain how birds are able to fly thousands of miles in a straight line without getting lost. The bill on a duckbilled platypus is a sensitive electrical detector that enables it to 'see' the muscle contractions of its prey in muddy riverbottoms where visibility is zero. Imagine how much easier electromagnetism would be to understand if we could just see the damn field lines.

Photons are the minutest constituents of the electromagnetic force, and they're just so weird you can't believe it. According to Einstein, photons don't travel through time at all. Also, photons are both particles and waves. It's sort of like how smooth-seeming water waves are made of vast numbers of individual water molecules. Unlike water molecules, though, lone photons retain their wave aspect in isolation. Experiments have shown that photons always 'know' they're part of a wave and spookily correlate their behavior with other distant photons. Don't even get me started on lasers and holograms, or higher dimensions, or the other many strange rabbit holes that dot the electromagnetic landscape.

© ethan hein 2007 | back to memebase | back to top