Fagg—Light as Electromagnetism

We now move more particularly toward the subject of light with Lawrence W. Fagg's recent Electromagnetism and the Sacred (EMS). Just as Einstein, in his Relativity, wrote "in the simplest and most intelligible form" he could, so also Fagg, thankfully for the benefit of most of us, has "avoided using any mathematical equations" except for Einstein's famous one (E = mc², or energy equals mass times the speed of light squared).¹³

At times he speaks of light and of electromagnetic radiation as being synonymous, e.g., "light (which is electromagnetic radiation)" (pp. 11, 43, 67, 99, 105 and 124). Fortunately, however, in the final analysis he confesses that there is a difference between electromagnetism as light and God's "immanence" as light (pp. 22-23, 109 and 130). He goes right to the threshold that science makes possible, yet recognizes there is still something beyond. It is that force beyond that now beckons us.

For most of us, the term electromagnetism probably elicits an image of a simple electromagnet of the type discovered by Michael Faraday in 1831.¹⁴ Electromagnetism is defined either as "magnetism produced by an electric current" or as "the branch of physics that deals with electricity and magnetism."¹⁵ Most of us also know that light in a vacuum travels at the speed of approximately 186,000 miles per second, the upper limit of velocity in what we know as creation.¹⁶ Einstein's Relativity calls it "a limiting velocity, which can neither be reached nor exceeded by any real body" (p. 41). Writing in 1916, he also said that "we have experience of such rapid motions only in the case of electrons and ions" (p. 49).¹⁷

Mystery abounds in the study of light to this day. "Light—that convenient legacy of the mystical tradition of both Eastern and Western Christian versions—behaves for quantum scientists sometimes as a particle and sometimes as a wave."¹⁸ It seems generally accepted now, since more precise knowledge is not yet available, that light behaves at one and the same time according to two different theories which, according to common sense, are mutually exclusive of each other. One such theory is that light is composed of particles (i.e., mass) that move through space, while the other theory is that it is mass-less and thus moves through space in transverse waves (up and down rather than longitudinal as in the case of sound waves produced by vibrating mass).

Apparently among scientists there is a rather widespread tendency to equate electromagnetism to light, and vice versa. Even Zajonc, when speaking of Faraday's discovery, says, "The impact of Faraday's discovery both practically and for our understanding of light is so great that we must pause to examine it. For in attempting to understand what appears to be a purely electrical effect, the foundations were inadvertently set for a new understanding of light," (p. 130, emphasis mine). Zajonc's work wends its way, however, to some distinctions not so clearly made by others, as we shall see. And while Fagg ultimately admits that electromagnetism is not God's ultimate "immanence," he draws no clear line of demarcation between them. One wonders if there is a way to really distinguish this exaltation of electromagnetism from Spinoza's pantheistic equating of God to the entirety of what can be observed in nature (creation).¹⁹ Is the Whole simply the sum of its parts? The study of light challenges us with this question.

Science, if Fagg's work is any indication, regards electromagnetic phenomena, apparently more or less in its entirety, as moving with the speed of light. He refers to "alternating electric and magnetic fields in an electromagnetic wave [as] moving at the speed of light" (Fig. 2, p. 42). He portrays (Fig. 3, p. 42) the spectrum of electromagnetic radiation by both wavelength and frequency, complementary quotients from dividing the speed of light. And then he says, "The whole spectrum of radiations-radio waves, [microwaves], infrared, visible, ultraviolet, x-rays, and y-rays—[are] all electromagnetic radiations moving at the speed of light. Indeed the generic name for all these radiations has become light. . . . Maxwell's work, therefore, not only unified electricity and magnetism but also incorporated the disciplines of light and optics into the realm of electromagnetism."

Neither my study of the cited works, nor my research through Britannica, has yielded any discussion of the speed of magnetism as a separate phenomenon. Yet Rodney Collin (1909-1956), most prominent disciple of the Russian mystic and mathematician P. D. Ouspensky, indicates that magnetic influences travel at about four hundred miles per second, one five-hundredth the speed of light. And he cites as the basis for this conclusion tests of solar magnetism measured by the delay in sunspot change and its effect on the magnetism of the Earth's atmosphere.²⁰ I am unable to reconcile this anomalous information, and cite it only as a curiosity for some wiser reader to resolve.

The reader should not infer, even for a moment, my disapproval of Fagg's work. It has been for me, in fact, of immense educational value, and I surmise most others without extensive backgrounds in mathematics and physics, especially nuclear physics, will also benefit greatly from studying it.

Before considering Fagg's work, however, let us look at the recognized unit, or quantum, the smallest possible unit, of light measurement—the photon. It has apparently taken almost a century for this measurement to be adequately developed (if it is). A good discussion of this development can be found in Zajonc, Chapter 11 entitled "Least Light: A Contemporary View." He indicates that Planck and Einstein "were the first to posit the existence of an elementary quantum of light, suggesting light was not infinitely divisible, and so possessed a least part" (p. 293). The name "photon" was then first used by an American chemist, G. N. Lewis, in 1926. Einstein seems to have suggested the use of a "beamsplitter" early on, but not until the 1980s was a sufficiently elegant test devised (by a French group in 1986) to adequately demonstrate the possibility of such a quantum (photon). Zajonc describes it thus (fn mine):

Although technically somewhat difficult, it is conceptually supremely simple. One passes the suspected photon into an optical instrument that divides light, sending half one way and half another way. If at some point the light is no longer divisible, then we have reached the level of the photon, or "atom" (from the Greek, meaning indivisible)²¹ of light. The optical device that divides light in half is a half-silvered mirror, or "beamsplitter." When light falls on it, half the light is transmitted and half reflected. Imagine a single, atomlike photon striking the beamsplitter. What will happen? If it is truly indivisible, then it will go one way or the other but not both. This is called "anticorrelation." If, on the other hand, the light can be divided, both branches will have light, half will go one way and half the other. This is the test.

In contrast to an atomic theory of light, the wave theory conceives of light as infinitely divisible; there is no lower limit to how weak the light's intensity can be. Therefore the beamsplitter will always divide the light, transmitting half one way and reflecting the other half. The beamsplitter is, therefore, a litmus test for light: wave or particle.

As he explains, single-photon sources of light are not normal, but in recent years two have been devised that, when properly used, pass the single-photon litmus test. The anticorrelation is always there. Chalk up one for the particle theory, but don't relax your cortex yet. Hold the thought until we can more fully examine the Janus character of light as both particle and wave. In reference to knowing light (and harmony), Schwaller de Lubicz, characterizes it as "having a sense of the simultaneity of opposites … in us."²² Does light, as science itself now recognizes, demonstrate this presence of mutually exclusive opposites at one and the same time?

But let us first digress to understand more of electromagnetism as Fagg has simplified it for us.

Early in "Fire" we reproduced from Steiner's Light Course (LC) two parallelograms, one of movements (kinetics) and one of forces (mechanics), and later discussed the relationship of force to mass (matter). Still later we saw that there were forces at the etheric and higher levels that were involved in the creative process but as yet not recognized by science. In the discussion below, we deal with forces that are recognized by science, but in connection with the force in light science comes up against puzzles that it has yet to solve. At this or some comparable point science must come eventually to grips with the reality that to advance beyond knowledge of the mineral kingdom it must leave its instruments behind and look to revelation made possible only by newly developed (evolved) organs of human perception. Perhaps in its study of light science is at that threshold Steiner described when he said that science must continue in its study of the material world until it reaches the point of absurdity, or, in other words, paints itself into a corner. It can look only so far into the minuteness, on the one hand, or the magnitude, on the other, of material creation. There, in ever so many patterns it could have seen analogy to the spiritual world whence it came ("As Above, So Below"), but it must reach its own limitations and turn back upon itself, the "point of recognition" by the Prodigal Son (Lk 15,17). There are glimmers of hope in that direction. The works cited herein seem to fall in that category.

Early in the century, Steiner wrote a book entitled Riddles of Philosophy (RP; there were three later editions, 1914, 1918 and 1923). In one of these editions, he recognized Einstein's relativity. Of it, to conclude the penultimate chapter of Part II, he said (p. 444, fn mine):

Insofar as man considers himself within the world of natural things and events, he will find it impossible to escape the conclusions of this theory of relativity. But if he does not want to lose himself in mere relativities, in what may be called an impotence of his inner life, if he wants to experience his own entity, he must not seek what is "substantial in itself" in the realm of nature²³ but in transcending nature, in the realm of the spirit.

It will not be possible to evade the theory of relativity for the physical world, but precisely this fact will drive us to a knowledge of the spirit. What is significant about the theory of relativity is the fact that it proves the necessity of a science of the spirit that is to be sought in spiritual ways, independent of the observation of nature. That the theory of relativity forces us to think in this way constitutes its value within the development of world conception.

Nature shows itself to us in the world of matter. Even its forces have thus far manifested themselves to our senses and thinking only in the world of matter. We could not feel the rush of wind if air had no mass. As beautiful as that world is as an image of the higher (Jn 3,8), we must recognize that the world of nature, the world of matter, is the pigpen in the parable of the Prodigal Son. In spite of the billions of years back to the birth of our material universe, we must recognize that all matter (and forces manifesting through matter) is the menopausal child of the creative process.²⁴ Relativity shows us that these billions of years, in and of themselves, do not independently exist. Unspeakably earlier in the creative process, far, far rarer than anything our senses or instruments can detect or our thinking conceive, the initial creative force went out from the Father God (to borrow from the concept of the Trinity). John calls this "the Word" (the Christ) from which all matter and all lesser forces eventually came (Jn 1,1-3). But to come to our "point of recognition" we must examine "nature."