Ether, having once failed as a concept is being reinvented. Information is the ultimate mediational ether. Light doesn’t travel through space: it is information that travels through information … at a heavy price.
—Sol Yurick, Behold Metatron
In 1914, when Thomas Edison was asked by the New York Times what the greatest invention had been since the electric light bulb, he scribbled “wireless” at the very top of a list published by the newspaper (Marshall 1914, 1–2). It was becoming usual in both vernacular and technical discourse to employ the term “wireless” as a noun, a short for “wireless telegraphy.” And indeed, while electric telegraphy had been one the great marvels of the nineteenth century, a token of modernity, its evolution into a wireless system baffled many and fueled wild promises about its future applications.
It might be said that from this point two histories of wireless part. The first history is well-known and vast: it is one that traces the evolution of the dominant communication technologies of the twentieth century into wireless devices: radio, television, telephone and recently computing networks. However, when the discovery of ‘wireless’ was announced in the last decade of the nineteenth century, its future was by no means a linear one and it certainly was not limited to communications. The “wireless age” was a site of social, technical and cultural speculations about the new ethereal method of transmission. A counter-history to the long series of successful material technology, explored here, focuses on the social imaginaries around the potentialities of wireless (Taylor 2004). This chapter looks for the “imaginary” or “discursive” media (Huhtmamo 1997; Kluitenberg 2011) that never materialized into a working prototype or a commercialized technology. In particular, I explore some of the imagined scenarios concerning the possibility of wireless power following the discovery of the Hertzian waves. Thus, this is a history of social and scientific desires, predictions and fantasies, a history of what Canales call “desired machines” (2011). Through an analysis of imagined models of wireless power transmission, from its first manifestation in the late nineteenth century to the renewed interest in its potential applications today, I hope to shed light on some of the tensions between materiality and mobility that mark our technological culture.
The commercial success of a family of new electrical technologies in the second half of the nineteenth century resulted in a proliferation of wires in urban and domestic life. The electric telegraph, the telephone, the electric trolley and the electric light were all wired technologies, and as they disseminated, so did intricate networks of wires of copper, steel, aluminum, nickel, iron. The electrification of industrial machinery further consolidated a network of production and distribution of electrical power and in the wake of the rapid and extensive electrification of the Western world, more wires appeared. In the urban context, wires were a symbol of the new modern connectivity. The new scale of social and economic relationships was made fully visible by the presence of the wires. Historians of technology have ably documented how the telegraph system was often explained using the metaphor of the human nervous system (Nye 1990; Morus 2000). Wires fostered continuous couplings and embodied the very infrastructure for a reticular social body. Countless observers resorted to this analogy to describe the interconnection between distant markets, such as this Living Age reporter who in 1845 viewed the magnetic telegraph as “a net-work of nerves of iron wire, strung with lightning, will ramify from the brain, New York, to the distant limbs and members: … Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Louisville….” (The Magnetic Telegraph: Some of Its Results 1845, 194). As material evidence of a rising networked society, wires were visible symbols of technological progress. The households of early telephone subscribers and electric light adopters were easily identifiable. In rural areas, too, the advent of poles and wires in a small town meant that regional phone companies deemed the place worthy of connection with the modern world (Fischer 1992). As a result, a dictionary of phrases and fables published in 1896 suggested completing Lucretius’s three-age classification of human civilization (the stone, bronze and iron ages) with a fourth: the wire age, with its “telegraphs, by means of which well-nigh the whole earth is in intercommunication” (Brewer 1896, 22).
Cohabitation with wired technologies in social space was experienced with ambivalence. On the one hand, they made possible new kinds of connectivity that pushed the boundaries of time and space. As James Carey (1989) noted in his seminal work on the telegraph, the separation of transportation and communication was a main consequence of its invention, making modern communication appear ever more disembodied and immaterial. In reality though, the infrastructure that supported these seemingly ephemeral global interconnections was all too material and the plethora of wires threatened mobility in both urban and domestic spaces. Overhead wires and power lines overshadowed the streets of large cities in America. By the 1880s, wires had proliferated to such degree that they became a source of anxiety. The New York Times printed countless dramatic stories of deadly encounters with the wires: cases of buildings unexpectedly burning down, trees catching on fire and plenty of electrocutions were reported. Even firemen were “obstructed, frightened, and killed by the unseen force.” Reporters noted that the seemingly harmless telegraph wires were “rendered just about as dangerous as the light wires” when they came in contact with their electrified counterpart, as happened in the case of a boy who was electrocuted after stepping on a fallen telegraph line on Pearl Street in 1890. Overhead wires added “new terrors to living” in New York and citizens became captives of their homes, unable to “venture upon their own housetops where those deadly wires may be.” There was a generally held sentiment that streets and houses were disfigured by the unsightly wires. In fact, wires were so unpopular that, in 1883, editors of the newspaper insisted: “The telegraph and other wires must come down. The forests of masts and net-work [sic] of iron wires must disappear.”1
The perception of wires as dangerously imperfect conduits for the invisible force of electricity did serve to assert the legitimacy of a new group of experts: electrical engineers and electricians (Marvin 1988). One advertisement from the United Edison Manufacturing Company in the early 1890s warned that buildings were “better not wired than wired poorly.” Only expert linemen were permitted to install, repair or touch wires (and this was also true of telephone, telegraph and electrical lines), keeping amateurs at bay. The risks associated with the rapid diffusion of modern electric media extended even to those who might have chosen to not be ‘wired.’ Since major companies refused to bury wires underground due to higher installation and maintenance costs, the number of wires and poles in cities grew quickly and soon impeded people’s ability to circulate freely in public spaces. Ironically, increased connectivity was quickly coming to threaten social mobility. Some city councils negotiated with utilities companies to allow the use of sidewalk space to install poles in exchange for free electricity or telephone service (Fischer 1992, 133–5). In New York, a citizen’s right to “free passage,” as the New York Times described it, was a growing concern. A Bureau of Incumbrances had been created in 1871 in order to solve the problem of street and sidewalk obstruction caused by empty carts, fruits stalls, paving stones, boxes and other rubbish. Poles and wires came under the Bureau’s mandate following the Great Blizzard of March 1888, when a dangerous mess of downed wires left in its wake was deemed a public nuisance. Popular discontent with the overhead wires climaxed. An annual report to the U.S. Secretary of War noted how the blizzard “clearly shows the necessity of placing all wires underground,” and urged the Capitol to bury them as soon as possible in order to set a good example for electrical companies. In 1899, New York Mayor Hugh Grant transformed his political campaign into a “pole and wires crusade” and tasked the Bureau of Incumbrances with putting wires underground as soon as he came into office. That year alone, the bureau reported burying 12,308 miles of wires operated and owned by various phone, telegraph and electric light companies.2
By 1890, the public’s initial fascination with and excitement about the scientific innovation that allowed disembodied communications, artificial lightning and rapid transportation was eclipsed by a growing awareness of the dangers posed by the material infrastructure these inventions required. In particular, the fragility, cost, unpredictability and potential hazards posed by the wires constituted significant disincentives to further expansion of the networks of distribution of both energy and information. In the context of this popular resentment against the materiality of wires, the idea of “wireless” came to be viewed a very practical solution to the problem of preserving the advantages of the new modern connectivity without impinging on the freedom of movement and action.
The lexicon of “wireless” was employed generously: even putting wires out of sight was sufficient to be deemed “wireless.” The wire department of the city of Boston, for instance, claimed in 1897 to have “more wireless streets” as poles were cleared in various parts of the city. The wires themselves still existed, but their concealment acted to safeguard both mobility and connectivity in the eyes of the authorities.
The longing for a more radical solution was shortly answered. By the mid 1890s, electrical engineers claimed the discovery of a method for the transmission of messages without the recourse to wires, following experiments on the electromagnetic spectrum by several scientists and electricians (including Heinrich Hertz, William Crooke, Oliver Lodge, Nikola Tesla and Guglielmo Marconi). When it announced wireless telegraphy in 1897, the New York Times noted how the overabundance of scientific discoveries, inventions and consumer products that had seen the light of day in the last decades of the nineteenth century had made everyone “supercilious with regards to the novelties in science,” but that this “languor may be stirred up at the prospect of telegraphing through air and wood and stone without so much as a copper wire to carry the message.” Wireless telegraphy was clearly an invention in a class apart: as Susan Douglas (1987) noted, it was “miraculous” to many and it “bridged the chasm between science and metaphysics” (23). In contrast to Boston’s wire department “wireless” achievement, the unwiring announced by electrical engineers and scientists was radical: wireless through the Hertz-ian waves was meant as wire less. Not only was it a practical solution to a real problem, it was also the realization of one of the fondest dreams of scientists at this time: the domestication of the ether.
In his lengthy A Study of History published in 1934, British historian Arnold Toynbee attempted to identify the criteria indicating a civilization’s growth. Approaching the question of the evolution of technology in history, Toynbee suggested that progress was tangled with a “law of progressive simplification”: the shift from coal to oil fuel, from water to steam power, from steam to electric power, and from electric to wireless telegraph (Toynbee 1934). Toynbee notes that the simplification of a technical apparatus generates an improvement in efficiency and a reorganization of the social system that welcomes it. But Toynbee was not satisfied with the term “simplification” to designate this law:
“Simplification” is a negative word. It connotes omission and elimination; whereas, in the concrete examples of the phenomenon from which we have inferred the validity of the law, the ultimate effect which the law produces by its operation is not a diminution, but an enhancement of practical efficiency or of aesthetic satisfaction or of intellectual understanding or of godlike love. In fact, the result is not a loss but a gain.
(Toynbee 1934, 135)
The neologism “etherealization,” he thought, was “more illuminating” (Toynbee 1934 135).3 Etherealization can be understood as a movement from a material plane, or state, toward an ethereal one. The concept suggests that “dematerialization” should not be the opposing principle of “materialization.” On the contrary, a transfer of social, aesthetic and spiritual forces accompany the transformation or reduction of matter. Thus true progress may not be found in machines being smaller and simpler, but in the subjective illumination that the new form fosters.
Wireless is perhaps the illustration par excellence of etherealization, and it responds to the meaning of the concept in various ways. First, the transition from wired telegraphy to wireless telegraphy, accomplished in the early twentieth century, was literally understood as a transition from the world of matter to that of the ether, this subtle and imponderable medium that had been a source of speculation among scientists and philosophers for centuries (Galison 2003). At the time the telegraph loses its wires, there is no doubt in the mind of the many observers, starting with engineers at the Marconi company, that the medium in which electromagnetic signals are sent is the mythical ether (Hong 2001, 59). Some naturally designated the new invention as “ethereal telegraphy” in the late 1890s, and although physicists abandoned luminiferous ether theories at the turn of the twentieth century (in part because of Einstein’s famous claim in 1905 that it was superfluous to his principle of relativity), the term ether subsisted in the vernacular to describe the medium in which radio waves are broadcasted. Discursively and technically, then, the simplification of the technology of telegraphy had undergone a literal process of etherealization.
For the nonscientists, wireless telegraphy, a system simplified by the disappearance of annoying wires, was surely a testimony of the progress of science and technology; but the proximity of the new invention with the ether tapped into a much more profound aspiration, that of the harnessing of a new order of physical reality. While the webs of wires of telegraph and telephone exchanges could be explained with an analogy that had an equivalent in the natural world—the human nervous system—the etherealized telegraphy challenged any existing models about the living world. As a result, the disembodied communications of the wireless telegraph, along with new techniques of visual perception like photography and radiography, fueled spiritualist claims about telepathy and telekinesis (Davis 1999; Peters 1999; Stolow 2013), perhaps the closest analogies to the domain of ethereal.
The introduction of wireless telegraphy thus cannot be reduced to the mundane satisfaction that wires had, at last, disappeared. The significance of the etherealization of telegraphy in fact stimulated an heterogeneous range of “social imaginaries” (Taylor 2004). It instilled the imagining of what this new, phenomenologically imperceptible order of reality could offer for science and technology, and for everyday life as well. It reorganized both the science and the industry of electrical engineering, and opened up the commercial practices that would become the broadcasting industry. It also, and perhaps most importantly, finished to unsettle preexisting conceptions about physical reality and uplifted metaphysical claims in the popular and scientific discourse. Wireless became a space of speculation and potentialities—a space of ‘virtuality.’ And it was in that space that imaginaries about wireless power transmission took form.
The engineer Nikola Tesla (1856–1943) was one of the greatest promoters of the idea of wireless power transmission in the late nineteenth century. His invention of the polyphase system in the late 1880s was an impetus for the electrification of America by providing a technical means to transmit electricity over longer distances than existing systems could at the time. When the Edison Electric Lights Company provided electricity for street lightning in New York City in the 1880s, the company had to install dynamos right in the heart of Manhattan. Indeed, the lower tension of direct current distribution forced electric companies to build multiple stations in the densely populated areas where electricity was utilized the most. Such stations, as one British engineer noted in 1890, meant “the annoyance of machinery placed in a place where it is undesirable” for the public (Hopkinson 1890). By comparison, the alternating current system allowed Westinghouse engineers in 1895 to send power to the city of Buffalo from Niagara Falls, located more than twenty miles away (Hughes 1983, 135–139). The adoption of the alternating current system as a standard in the community of electrical experts transformed the model of electricity distribution: the sites of production of electrical power could be spatially distanced from the sites of consumption. As Hirsch and Sovacool recently noted, the history of electric utility system has been punctuated by a long process of making “its product largely invisible, both in its manufacture and physical manifestation. To many people, electricity remains an unseen and unthought-of commodity” (2013, 706). If this is generally true for most aspects of the technological system, poles and wires were (and are) still the exception to this regime of invisibility.
In 1891, at the height of the crusade against wires and before the announcement of wireless telegraphy, Tesla announced to the press that he was working toward perfecting a system of electric lighting that could be powered without wires. He was proposing to do with electrical power what would soon be done to telegraphy: getting rid of wires. A reporter told readers (with some pragmatism) that the system, known as the “Tesla Glow,” would “appeal to the layman” because “the walls and ceilings will not be defaced by wires.”4 As international attention shifted to focus on Marconi’s experiments in wireless telegraphy in 1897, Tesla multiplied his claims about a double-barreled system of wireless telegraphy and wireless power. In a patent filed in September 1897 on the transmission of electrical energy without wires, he described how wireless power transmission may be achieved: a coil would elevate the voltage inside a vacuum to such a level that a spark gap exciting an inductor would produce bursts of high-frequency currents of such “character and magnitude as to cause thereby a current to traverse elevated strata of the air between the point of generation and a distant point at which the energy is to be received and utilized” (1897). In contrast with Marconi, who limited his experiments to the transmission of pulse signals in the electromagnetic spectrum, Tesla envisaged that the same “medium” (Tesla refused to use the term ether5) was also suited for long distances, high tension, energy transfer.
Wireless power was Tesla’s “fondest dream” (1897). He famously experimented with wireless transmission and high-frequency currents in Colorado at the end of 1899 (Carlson 2013). By 1900, he sought financial support to build his “World System,” the construction of which was initiated on Long Island, New York, before being halted by the lack of capital. Tesla’s project was further undermined by Marconi’s first transatlantic radio transmission in 1901. This success, in turn, consolidated the fate of wireless with information transmission rather than power transmission. By 1902, Tesla was unable to pay the employees working on the Long Island tower, and he was late in paying Colorado Springs electricity bills from 1899. Carpenters deserted the site on July 19.6
As Marconi was asserting priority in the invention of wireless telegraphy, Tesla was battling to have his own system of wireless transmission of energy recognized as such. If there seems to be no historical evidence that he succeeded in creating a wireless power apparatus, Tesla recurrently declared that his system was near completion. These announcements were usually made to popular press reporters, who in turn got accustomed with the personage. A Time magazine article from 1931 recounts how Tesla even near the end of his life was still “rehashing” the “same old subject—Broadcasted Power.” Another article commented that the “wizard’s dream” had still not come true when he turned eighty.7
In the early twentieth century, wireless power was not just the fantasy of a lone electrician whose fame was passing. While deeply associated with Tesla in the minds of many, predictions, experimental attempts and claims of priority about the invention were rather frequent. Consider a few examples. In 1901, news came from London that engineers had unveil the “secret” of wireless power system, “a new thing and a great thing.” In May 1907, Sir Hugh Bell, who was ironically president of the Iron and Steel Institute, predicted wireless power would soon be a reality. That same year a high school student from Worchester, Massachusetts, claimed to be able to send power wirelessly over a distance of nine hundred feet. In April 1908, electrical engineer Dr. Frederick H. Millener claimed he had powered a truck from a distance. A wirelessly powered boat was reportedly seen on the Danube in Vienna in December 1911, and on February 10, 1914, a special cable announced that Marconi himself was able to light electric lamps from a distance of six miles in London.8 These predictions, announcements and claims of invention of wireless power do not exclusively reflect the swiftness of the press when it came to publicizing scientific discovery despite proper experimental demonstration. On the contrary, in many cases, these announcements were made without a fanfare, as if wireless power was yet another footnote to the marvels of modernity. The detachment of the press and the claims themselves show that wireless power was almost already a commonplace idea. It had turned into a plausible expectation of the advancement of science and this expectation carried with it its own “normative notions and images” (Taylor 2004, 24).
The various descriptions of an imagined wireless power shared common features. I focus here on three: centralization, control and standardization. First, a shared view of wireless power was that the passage from wired to wireless would increase the centralization of networks of distribution of electricity. Tesla’s World System, for instance, consisted of one large, conic tower mounted by a giant round magnifier that could transmit power wire-lessly, regardless of distance. Tesla claimed on various occasions that only a few of these towers would suffice to provide large amounts of electricity throughout the globe.9 Should that energy be freely distributed across the globe, it was, indeed, an economically flawed model. However, the model on which Tesla’s wireless power relied was a highly centralized one: ownership of one of these towers could mean access to a global (and no longer local or national) market and control over both production and distribution. In theory, it was a very lucrative venture and many noted it as a commercial opportunity. “Want to make some money?” asked a reporter for the Chicago Tribune in 1912, “then invent wireless power” and “don’t waste your time with wireless telegraphy or the wireless telephone … Wireless transmission of power is bigger and more important than either” (Diamond 1912). In 1925, a book entitled What’s Wanted included wireless power as a needed invention from inventors (Price 1925). In 1927, the magazine Popular Science Monthly called “radio power,” the “next great invention” (Armagnac 1927). The article was accompanied by a representation of transmitting towers depicted with the vocabulary of radio broadcasting: a central emitter in the center and a mass of receivers tapping from the periphery. Echoing the changes in audience that were taken place a time in the transition from telegraphy to radio—the rise of the concept of mass—reception of electricity in this proposed model evolved from being individual and local to being collective and global. In 1927, the chief of the Radio Laboratory at the Bureau of Standards attempted to set the record straight concerning wireless power transmission: “It may well be,” he said, “that directive radio will never bring wireless power transmission.” He added that while being feasible technically, “it would be the most inefficient thing in the world, and not even the wealth of Henry Ford would suffice to pay for the enormous transmitting station that would be required” (Del-linger 1927, F9). But even this prognostic about the impossibility of wireless power was portraying, with its singular station, a potentially highly centralized and monopolistic system.
The second feature shared by many of those who envisioned wireless power was greater control over machinery and engines powered by electricity. Like many of his contemporaries, Tesla believed that the possession of a superweapon would put an end to wars (Davis 1999, 88–89). Wirelessly powered warfare was just such weapon. In the years leading to and during World War I, he described how a wirelessly powered “manless airship” could “produce destructive effects at a distance.”10 Remotely controlled and unmanned warfare appealed to the military. In 1900, a United States Naval attaché claimed to have witnessed the workings of an invention by English engineer Cecil Varicas that was to be offered to his government, consisting of a method for “steering torpedoes and submarine craft by means of a wireless electrical device” using the Marconi system. A Navy commander noted in 1901 that the advantage of such a system was “the absolute control of the torpedoes at all times.” With the possibility of controlling motion from a distance, crewless battleships were perceived to be a strategic military advantage. Some argued that warfare should “guided by the cool judgment and steady hand of a man safe ashore, instead of by the nervous hand of a man who knows he is going to almost certain death.”11 In 1910, the “aeronautic editor” of Scientific American pointed out that an “airship driven by wireless power will put an end to future wars,” while suggesting that the newly created Carnegie Foundation for the Promotion of International Peace should back such a project.12 Fifty years later, cybernetics engineers and scientists recognized the importance of open channels of communication for the self-regulation of machines (anti-aircraft guns, radar and later drones). In the cybernetics model, the control is achieved through communication. The warfare engines dreamt of in the first half of the twentieth century were, in contrast, literal perpetuum mobile that turned machines into inexhaustible automata, self-regulated through information channels and self-supplied by energy transfer channels.
From a commercial perspective, control from a distance also had the potential to increase the existing distance between markets of energy production and markets of consumption, a tendency that Tesla’s own alternating current system had initiated. Speculating on the realization of wireless power, a Toronto Globe reporter joyfully prognosticated in 1934 that “gasoline and copper wires industries … would have to take it ‘on the chin’” (“Power Without Wires” 1934). In this model, the conditions of production were rendered more obscure, and certainly less visible to consumers.
A third major imagined feature of the etherealization of electric power was standardization. As the broadcasting model of radio took shape, the new neologisms of mass media were used to describe wireless power: expressions such as “radio power” or “broadcast power” appear in vernacular in the 1920s. This was not a mere analogy. In fact, the transmission of power would have relied, in the models of many, on the same medium as that of radio signals: the electromagnetic spectrum. The signals of early telegraphic systems were electrical impulses, and most developments in wireless telegraphy were made within the electrical engineering community. Information and energy in the late nineteenth century were part of the same ecology and their separation was artificial. Perhaps it was the etherealization of telegraphy that stabilized a view of the electromagnetic spectrum as a medium of information transmission, when the electromagnetic radiation occurring in the spectrum falls under energy phenomena. Tesla’s view of wireless transmission systematically supported such an energetic view of the ether. His World System conflated all types of transmission into one wireless system: clock, positioning system, telephony, telegraphy, picture transmission, music and, of course, power. The system also hinted at a possible standardization of sound, text and image into one common, universal language.
Today, the enduring hype around everything “Wi-Fi” and “mobile” is a sign that wireless—or “wirelessness” as Adrian Mackenzie puts it (2010)—is more than a scientific sensation. It has become a quality, a feature of technology that is serving a pressing commercial and social necessity: mobility. Communication practices and social relations demand to be utterly mobile and wires—literally—get in the way. But to talk of wireless phones, computers and tablets is merely a figure of speech. Our devices may be mobile, but everyday experience reminds any user that using computers, cell phones and tablets requires a short halt to a wall socket, this relic of the industrial age.
After the long and steady etherealization of information technology—telegraphy, telephony, and computing—the industry tells us that now is the time for electricity to join in. In 2007, a team of MIT researchers succeeded in powering a light bulb without wire from a distance of seven feet. The invention was described by Technological Review in 2008 as one of the ten technologies most likely to change the way we live. In 2010, the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas exhibited the first wirelessly powered plasma television. Wireless charging technologies have also burgeoned since. The industry is coming together to develop open standards for wireless charging around several organizations: the Wireless Power Consortium (2009), the Power Matters Alliance (2012) or the Alliance for Wireless Power (2012). Members in these industry organization include large consumers electronics and telecommunication providers (Samsung, AT&T, Sony), but also a few retailers who might entertain offering wireless charging on site (Starbucks Corporation, for instance).13 In January 2014, the Massachusetts-based company WiTricity announced that they were ready to move on with the commercialization of their wireless charging system for smartphones and other consumer electronics.
Wireless power transmission is entering an already-cramped medium, the ether. Despite generally using the lower frequencies of the electromagnetic spectrum, and thus not impeding on the frequencies of telecommunications, wireless power remains an electromagnetic phenomenon. When Nikola Tesla and others were imagining their wireless power system, the ether was perceived as an infinite resource. Its imperceptibility and speculative nature had intensified a view of the ether as inexhaustible. The history of wireless telecommunications offers a more problematic conception of the true “ethereality” of wireless. As is well-known, the rhetoric behind radio regulations in the 1920s started articulating the ether as a finite resource (Douglas 1987; Hong 2001). Access to the ether was limited; frequencies were fragmented and sold. From an absolute, limitless and mythical substance filling all space, the ether was reconstructed as a finite medium. As Joe Milutis puts it, “the creation of real estate in the ether, through electromagnetic spectrum allocation and the proliferation of networks, is the most dramatic transvaluation that the world has recently undergone” (2003). The quantitative leap in data transmission in the spectrum, thanks to the wireless hype and generations of more demanding mobile technology, is so rapid and intense that electronic engineers are preparing for a potential saturation. This concern with the sustainability of the ether was evoked in the early days of wireless computing. In his “From the Ether” column published for InfoWorld magazine, Bob Metcalfe (who is also the engineer behind the Ethernet cable) was one of the first to make a sortie against the wireless trend, which he predicted would completely and permanently flop. He argued, “it is an ecologically unsound waste of energy to broadcast bits in all directions when they need to be received in only one. The ether is too scarce to be wasted on nonbroadcast communications, and it won’t be” (1993b, 48). Nicolas Negroponte echoed this same argument in his famous book Being Digital:
as soon as we use the ether for higher-power telecommunications and broadcast, however, we have to be very careful that signals do not interfere with each other. We must be willing to live in predetermined parts of the spectrum, and we cannot use the ether piggishly. We must use it as efficiently as possible. Unlike fiber, we cannot manufacture any more of it. Nature did that once.
(Negroponte 1995, 24)
Both information technology experts saw the shift toward wireless as a process that would limit and constrain transmissions instead of deploying endless and ubiquitous connections. Network clogging, congestion, collapses, and e-waste management are issues the industry is starting to weight in on. Metcalfe wrote, “cutting all these cords and cables is exciting, but isn’t inevitable … [E]ven if I’m wrong about the permanent shortage of real ether, wires will be keeping us civilized for a very long time” (1993a, 48). He concluded somewhere else: “Wire up your home and stay there” (1993b, 56). The growing traffic in the ether does not discourage wireless power developers from moving in. Some promoters argue that their technology does not collide with the electromagnetic spectrum, using low range resonance in magnetic fields that are “not very busy” (Schatz 2011), at least for now.
The future convergence of information and energy transmissions in the same medium reactivates some of the anxieties that echo the introduction of electric devices in the domestic and urban life during the industrial revolution. Only this time, it is the ethereality rather than the materiality of transmissions that ignites fears. Unwiring is no longer the solution for the potential harm found in wires; on the contrary, the invisibly of the networks of transmission is that which instil apprehension. The phenomenon of “electromagnetic hypersensitivity” is perhaps the best contemporary expression of this fear. Answering these growing concerns, the World Health Organization has been surveying the scientific literature on the effects of electromagnetic files on health since 1996 through the International Electromagnetic Fields Project. For many energy moving through the air brings up safety concerns and the industry prepares to answer those concerns. Once again, the lessons of Toynbee’s etherealization are replayed here: as wired technologies lose their wires, they are not rendered “immaterial,” simply the material structures transmutes into another form that open up new challenges. In this case, the passage from material structures (wallsockets, wires, poles) to pervasive, invisible and ubiquitous infra structures does not alleviate fears; rather, it amplifies them.
The promises of preserving and enhancing mobile culture seems key to the social acceptation of wireless power. In various advertisements promoting wireless technology over the Internet, access to a source of power is depicted as the major physical constraint to fully disembodied practices of communication. Currently the main application of wireless power, as promoted by many of the companies pioneering in the field, is the charging of consumer products (smartphones, televisions, tablets) and various household devices (wireless kitchen appliances, for instance). In turn, it answers the exigency of mobility that the information technology industry has carefully marketed in the last two decades. The industry of wireless power builds on mobility through a general catchphrase that cuts across most marketing discourses selling the innovation: wireless power finally cuts the last cord to the material world. In 2008, PowerMat’s CEO Ran Poliakine argued “Recharging without the tangle and hassle of wires is the next logical step in the continuing evolution of wireless devices” (Poliakine 2011). Advertising material for PowerBeam, a U.S.-based company in wireless power, argues that technologies are not “truly” wireless until we are rid of all wires. Above all, say the company’s advertisers, wireless power is “freedom from the wires” (PowerBeam Inc. 2011). Even the story that led to the experiments on wireless power at MIT in 2007 by Marin Soljačić, professor of physics and one of the founders of WiTricity, is told through the lenses of an ordinary mobile phone user, experiencing the limits of battery autonomy. Rather than a story of fundamental scientific research, it portrays the eureka movement when Soljačić, awakened at night for the umpteenth time by his cell phone battery needing recharging, resolved to pursue experiments in wireless charging (Schatz 2011). The imagined usages of wireless power by promoters appear to first serve the ideals of portability, autonomy and mobility of consumer electronics.
The historical analysis of wireless power imaginaries provided in this chapter may further serve to approach the tension between materiality and mobility in contemporary digital culture. First, the imagined systems of wireless power have participated to preserving the historical and cultural proximity between energy and information. As Linda Henderson and Bruce Clarke ably note, a “conceptual crossover from energy to information” took place at the turn of the twentieth century. The “heavy technologies of the earlier industrial period” and their “monumental energy gradually shifted toward the lighter structures of high technologies” (Clarke and Henderson 2002, 2). Those in the early twentieth century who speculated on the possibilities for energy production, distribution and consumption to move into the lighter structures offered an opposing voice to the prevalence of information. Tesla’s stubborn persistence in referring to “wireless power” when he was challenging Marconi on the priority to the invention of radio is telling: it is as if he was not conscious of, or refused, the profound cultural transition into the “information age.” As he and others were speculating on the capacity of the ether to be a common medium for both energetic and informational transfers, or using the lexicon of radio to describe how an apparatus of wireless power would work, they were keeping the frontier between information and energy fully open and fluid. As we have seen, the recent actualization of wireless power into a material technology might further challenge that boundary altogether, along with the growing awareness that the information economy does not exist outside “heavy” dimensions. Many digital media studies scholars, for instance, have been unpacking recently the deep materialities of the digital economy: e-waste, material conditions of production, labor issues.
The imaginaries of wireless power may also challenge the widely shared value of mobility. No longer a simple mantra for marketers of digital devices, mobility is now a social imperative, and wirelessness is still perceived today, as it was in the late nineteenth century, as the practical solution to the problem of the material aspects of technology infringing on the freedom of movement. The utter unwiring of telephones, tablets and computers with the advent of wireless charging is likely to be praised as the achievement of a new threshold in the liberation from the constraints of the material world. In fact, unwiring is not the only simplification (or to use Toynbee’s term, etherealization) that information and communication technologies have undergone toward meeting the exigency of mobility. Their commercial success since the 1980s has relied on sustained processes of simplification: miniaturization (reduction of volume and weight, compression, batteries), digitization (standardization of language), naturalization (“user-friendly” interfaces, simulations of natural environments), delocalization (cloud computing, separation of production markets with consumer markets). Mobile communication, as a result, appears more disembodied, more immaterial than ever—an ambiguity captured by the misuse of the term “virtual” as the opposite of “real” (Lévy 2001). The seemingly dematerialized and distributed nature of digital networks has not, however, been exempt from politics of control and centralization (Galloway 2004). On the contrary, the history of radio broadcasting and wireless computing shows that the passage to the ether centralized communication. Tesla’s imagined model of wireless power is helpful once again: while his discourse legitimating the invention suggested utopian dreams of open and distributive models of energy production and consumption, the material system of wireless power he imagined theoretically reinforced, on the contrary, centralization and control.
Wireless power was not perceived by the amateurs or experts envisioning it as a dematerialization; on the contrary, their models of what wireless power ought to be supported specific material arrangements, institutions, economic models, scientific theories, social norms, cultural ideals and personal dreams. As yet another passage from the wired world to the ether seems imminent, we might keep in mind for wireless what H. G. Wells famously said of railways: “Before every engine, as it were, trots the ghost of a superseded horse” (1902, 11).
1. “Sudden Death in the Air” (1883, November 4), New York Times, p. 6; “The Deadly Electric Wires. The System of Stringing them Overhead Must Be Abolished” (1883, November 19), New York Times, p. 2; “The Monopoly of the Streets” (1883, January 31), New York Times, p. 4; “Dazed by Electricity” (1890, September 16), New York Times, p. 8.
2. “United Edison Manufacturing Company” (1892) [Advertisement], The World Almanac, New York: Press Publishing Company; United States Army Corps of Engineers (1889), Annual Report of the Chief of Engineers, United States Army, to the Secretary of War for the year 1889, Washington, DC: Government Printing Office; “The Pole and Wire Crusade” (1889, April 28), New York Times, p. 4.; New York Board of Electrical Control (1890, February 7), “Report of the New York Board of Electrical Control,” The Electrical Engineer. A Weekly Journal of Electrical Engineering, 5: 116–118.
3. The reception of Toynbee’s concept of etherealization was mixed. A contemporary reviewer finds the term “unfortunate” and concludes that with his “fluid psychoid concepts Toynbee has not progressed far beyond many another philosopher of history” (Kroeber 1943: 295). Others, like Marshall McLuhan, have found the concept somewhat useful. McLuhan recognized the similarity between Toynbee’s etherealization and Buckminster-Fuller’s “ephemerealization,” and he will use the term to name the general principle behind the software revolution, and more generally to describe the capacity to “do more and more with less and less” (1973). Lewis Mumford utilized the expression in 1938 in What Is City? and later in The Condition of Man (1944), however without mention to Toynbee’s work. Finally, Christian Kerslake (2008) analyzes how some concepts in Gilles Deleuze may have been informed by the philosopher’s critical reading of Toynbee.
4. “Wireless Electric Lamps. Mr. Tesla’s Experiments with High-Frequency Alternations” (1891, July 9), New York Times, n.p.
5. Despite the wide circulation of ether theories in physics and electrical science at the time, Tesla was careful to only rarely refer to the word “ether.” He made use of “air,” “atmosphere,” “gaseous medium filling all space” or the “upper strata” in lieu of the ethereal vocabulary, which he considered “too vague.” In reaction to Roentgen’s discovery of X-rays in 1896, attributed to vibrations of the ether, Tesla wrote to the press that he preferred using “the term ‘primary matter,’ for, although the expression ‘ether’ conveys a perfectly definite idea to the scientific mind, there exists, nevertheless, much vagueness as to the structure of this medium.” Nikola Tesla (Electrical Review, December 1, 1896), in Popović et al., Articles, Selected Works, p. 223.
6. Friction at Wardenclyffe. Tesla’s Carpenters Quit Work on Saturday” (1902, July 14), Brooklyn Eagle, p. 9; “Colorado News Item” (1904, June 17), Littleton Independent, p. 8.
7. On Tesla asserting to the press that he was the inventor of radio, see for instance: N. Tesla (1907, October 25), “Letters to the Editor. Tesla on Wireless,” New York Tribune, p. 7. See also “Tesla at 75” (1931, July 20), Time Magazine, pp. 27–30; “Wizard’s Dream Is Unfulfilled in His 80th Year. Nikola Tesla, Inventor, Celebrates 79th Birthday—Faith Unbroken” (1936, October 13), The Globe, p. 3.
8. “Claim Secret of Wireless Power. English Electricians Declare They Have Discovered Sure Method” (1901, October 18), Chicago Daily Tribune, p. 4; “Wireless Power. The Most Important Scientific Forecast of the Week” (1907, May 19), New York Tribune, p. B3; “Sends Power by Wireless: Nineteen-Year-Old Boy Asserts He Has Worked Motors at 900 Feet” (1907, December 20), New York Times, p. 4; “Wireless Power Boat” (1911, December 31), Boston Daily Globe, n.p; “Lights Lamps by Wireless” (1914, February 10), The Washington Post, p. 1; “Light and Power Via Radio Possible” (1927, June 26), The Washington Post, p. SM3; “Power Without Wires” (1934, April 26), The Globe, p. 1.
9. “Earth Will Speak to the Planets, Scientist Predicts” (1931, July 11), The Globe, p. 3.
10. Winans, Richard Maxwell (1912, March 3), “Wireless Power,” New York Tribune, pp. 3–4, 16; “Tesla’s New Device Like Bolts of Thor.” (1915, December 8), New York Times, p. 8.
11. “Passing of the Torpedoes: Lieut. Commander Colwell Says New Wireless Electric Steering Device May Revolutionize Defenses” (1900, January 18), New York Times, p. 3 “New Method of Steering Torpedoes” (1900, March 11), The Atlanta Constitution, p. A3; “Steering Torpedoes by Wireless System: Successful Demonstration with Model of the Gardner Invention” (1901, December 11), New York Times, p. 8.
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