Fields, not forces
Field lines are a choice, not a discovery
Nothing in space is arranged in lines. The lines are a drawing convention — and an unusually good one, because three separate facts about the field survive the translation.
The field before the lines were drawn on it
A field is a vector attached to every point of space. Drawing it as arrows on a grid is honest and ugly; drawing it as lines is beautiful and throws information away.
Counting what comes out, and never looking inside
Draw any closed surface. The field crossing it depends only on the charge enclosed — not on where that charge sits, not on its shape, not on anything outside.
One number for every point, and nothing at all is lost
The electric field is three numbers at every point of space. Replacing it with one number loses nothing — and the reason it loses nothing is the same reason a hill can be drawn as a contour map.
The field with no ends, and the force that does no work
Magnetic field lines never start and never stop. That single absence is a law, it has survived every attempt to break it, and it makes the magnetic field a different kind of object from the electric one.
The inside of a conductor, where the field is exactly nothing
Put a metal object in any electric field and the field inside it is zero. Not small — zero, by an argument that takes one sentence, and with consequences that reach from lightning to the most precise test of Coulomb's law ever made.
The field that makes the other, and only while it is changing
A magnet sitting next to a coil does nothing at all. Move it and a current flows. The law is not about the field but about its rate of change, and everything electrical since 1831 rests on that distinction.
How much charge a shape will hold, before anything is charged
Capacitance is decided by geometry alone. Two pieces of metal have a number attached to them, fixed by their shape and their separation, and it is settled before any charge arrives.
Where the electron probably is
The Bohr atom put the electron on a circle of definite radius. What replaced it keeps the radius as the most likely place to find the electron and gives up the circle, the speed and the trajectory entirely.
The floor that cannot be told from gravity
Seal a laboratory, take away the windows, and no experiment inside it can distinguish standing in a gravitational field from accelerating through empty space. That is not a philosophical remark — it forces light to bend, forces clocks to disagree, and has a size at which it stops being true.
The bend Newton got half right
A photon treated as a falling body passes a mass and comes out deflected. So does a photon treated as a straight line in curved spacetime — by exactly twice as much. The factor of two is not a refinement; it is the sharpest available statement that gravity is geometry.
The wave that stretches one way and squeezes the other
A gravitational wave passing through a ring of free masses lengthens one diameter while shortening the perpendicular one, then swaps. The two conservation laws that forbid anything simpler are why the effect is a part in a thousand million million million.
A charge that turns must glow
An accelerating charge radiates, and a charge going round in a circle is accelerating. Apply that to an electron orbiting a nucleus and classical physics predicts that every atom collapses in sixteen picoseconds — a calculation with nothing wrong in it except its conclusion.
The field that cannot get out
Squeeze a lump of conducting fluid and its magnetic field comes with it, because the flux through any loop that moves with the material cannot change. Halve the radius and the field goes up fourfold; collapse by a factor of seventy thousand and it goes up by five thousand million.
The field that wraps a current
Ampère's law says that going once round a closed path and adding up the field counts the current threaded through it, and nothing else about the path survives into the answer. Four different loops round one wire return the same number to five decimal places — which is exactly why the law is both easy and treacherous.
The term that made light
Ampère's law contradicts itself the moment a current stops being steady, and the contradiction is visible in one picture: two surfaces on the same loop, with a current through one of them and nothing through the other. The term that repairs it turns four equations into a wave, whose speed is two constants measured in a room with the lamps off.
Magnetism is electricity seen sideways
The force on a charge moving beside a current-carrying wire is magnetic in the laboratory and purely electrostatic in the charge's own frame. Both calculations give the same answer, and the drift speed that makes them agree corresponds to a Lorentz factor differing from one in the twenty-sixth decimal place.
Where the energy of a field actually is
A charged capacitor holds 1.27 µJ, and two entirely different accounts agree on the number: one built from charges and potentials, one built from joules per cubic metre of empty space. They part company at a resistor, where the power arrives sideways through the surface at 1.67 W.
The attraction that needs no charge
Gauss's law says nothing comes out of a neutral molecule, and yet water's field one nanometre away reaches 1.1 × 10⁸ V/m. What survives when the monopole vanishes is a separation, and every step down the tower of falloffs below it is paid for with one more order of cancellation.
The charge that has to be somewhere else
Hold a charge above an earthed metal sheet and the field above it is exactly the field of two charges — the real one and an imaginary partner buried at the mirror position. The partner is not an analogy or an approximation. It is a legal guess, and a legal guess is a proof.
The loop that behaves like a needle
Far enough away, a current going round in a circle is indistinguishable from a bar magnet, and one number describes both. That number tells a uniform field how to turn the loop and gives it no way to pull on it at all — which is why two magnets attract by the fourth power of the distance and not the second.
The angle at which reflection picks a side
At one angle of incidence, a water surface reflects no light at all of one polarisation. The Fresnel algebra says so, and says nothing about why. The reason is that the reflected ray would have to leave along the axis of the charges radiating it — and a shaking charge sends nothing along the direction it shakes in.
The ray that bends without a surface
Snell's law is about a boundary, and light bends in air where there is no boundary anywhere. Let the index vary continuously and the law of angles becomes a differential equation — one that carries a conserved quantity, forbids the ray from reaching certain heights, and turns a hot road into a mirror a hundred metres long.
The term free fall cannot remove
Fall freely and gravity disappears. It disappears only to the extent that the falling laboratory is small — what survives is the gradient, which pulls two released masses together across the fall and apart along it. Given an instrument, the size of the box in which nothing is detectable is computable, and that number is the whole content of the word "locally".
The magnet that falls slowly
Drop a magnet down a copper pipe and it takes several seconds to fall a metre, drifting rather than falling. Nothing touches it, the copper is not magnetic, and there is no circuit anywhere. The pipe arrives warm.
The surface that pulls toward the stronger side
Surface tension is usually treated as a constant of a liquid, and it is not — it depends on temperature and on what is dissolved, and a difference in it along a surface is a force along that surface — which drags the liquid underneath and needs no pressure difference at all.
The rule that is two laws wearing one coat
The flux rule folds two entirely different pieces of physics into one number, and they agree exactly, which is why nobody notices there are two. A disc spinning in a steady field generates a voltage with no changing flux anywhere, and the folding comes apart.
The field the matter takes away
Put a piece of glass in an electric field and the field inside it is smaller. How much smaller is not a property of glass. A needle of it keeps almost the whole field, a sphere keeps three-quarters, a slab across the field keeps a seventh — same material, same applied field, three answers, and the difference is arithmetic about shape.
The magnet that has to fight its own field
A bar magnet's own poles put it in a reverse field, so the same material cut short and fat is weak and cut long and thin is strong. And a magnetised material does not have a magnetisation — it has a magnetisation and a history, which is why the word for what it does is the Greek for coming late.
The field nobody can transform away
A wire's magnetic field is an electric field seen from the wrong frame, and a charged plate's electric field is a magnetic one seen the same way. Neither trick works on a light wave. Two combinations of E and B are the same for every observer, and which side of one line a field sits on is a fact nothing about the observer can alter.
The field that points where the charge is now
The field here was set by what the charge was doing a distance over c ago, so it ought to point at where the charge used to be. For a charge moving steadily it points at where the charge is — not approximately, exactly — and nothing has outrun light. What breaks the arrangement is a change of motion, and the break is the whole of radiation.
The angular momentum that is in nothing at all
A charged ring and a solenoid, both at rest, with nothing moving anywhere. Switch the solenoid off and the ring starts to turn. Angular momentum is conserved, so it was there before the switch was thrown — and it was not in the matter, because nothing was moving. It was in the field, and it is qΦ over 2π whatever the geometry.
The lens with no focal length
A glass lens bends a ray by an angle proportional to how far off the axis it passes, which is precisely the condition for every ray to arrive at one point. Gravity bends by an angle that falls with distance off the axis, so every ray has its own focus and there is no image plane anywhere — only a half-line of foci, beginning 548 astronomical units from the Sun and running outward for ever.
The box of light that weighs something
Two photons flying apart have a mass between them, though neither has one. Seal them in a mirrored box and the box is heavier than it was empty, by exactly the energy inside divided by c². Mass is not a property of stuff and it does not add up — it is a property of a system, and 99 per cent of the mass of everything anybody has ever weighed is of this kind.
The knot the field cannot untie
A perfectly conducting fluid cannot change which field line joins which piece of it. So two flux systems pushed together may be squashed indefinitely and can never merge, and the energy of the squashing accumulates with nowhere to go. The release happens only where the perfect conductivity locally fails — in a sheet three metres thick inside a structure ten thousand kilometres across — and the rate that follows is a hundred thousand times too slow for the flares that are observed.
The mode that lives in the mistake
A perfect stack of alternating layers refuses a whole band of frequencies — not weakly, not with loss, but not at all. Break the repeat once, by inserting a single layer of the wrong thickness, and exactly one frequency inside that band passes through the whole stack with a transmittance of one. The useful thing about a forbidden band turns out to be not what it excludes but what a single flaw is thereby allowed to hold.
The field outside the solenoid, which is not zero
Ampère's law says the field outside a solenoid vanishes, and every step of that argument is exact — for a winding of infinite length. A real one is a bar magnet seen from outside, its external field falls as the inverse square of its length rather than to nothing, and the "exactly zero" that makes the derivation so satisfying is the one part of it a laboratory cannot have.
How far a field gets into metal
Every static argument about conductors says the field inside one is zero, and every one assumes the electrons have had time to move. Give them less time and the field gets in — 9.2 millimetres into copper at mains frequency, 2.1 microns at a gigahertz — and the metal box that silences a radio does almost nothing about the cable running past it.
The law that is always true and rarely useful
Ampère's law holds for every loop and every current. Apply it to a wire of finite length and it gives an answer that is wrong by half — until the displacement current of the charge piling up at the wire's two ends is put back in, whereupon the two terms sum to μ₀I exactly at every length. The law was never approximate. It was never a computation either.
The whistle that arrives sorted
A lightning stroke in one hemisphere reaches a receiver in the other as a note gliding downward over about a second. Nothing dispersed the sound; there was no sound. A radio pulse travelled forty megametres along a magnetic field line through a plasma whose group velocity depends on frequency, and arrived with its frequencies separated by up to three seconds.
The long-range force that does not reach
The Coulomb force falls off as slowly as gravity does, which is what makes electrostatics awkward — every charge is in principle in contact with every other. Put the same charge into a plasma and it becomes invisible beyond a few millimetres, because the mobile charges around it rearrange until its field is cancelled. What is left is a screened potential with a definite range, and that range is what makes a plasma a plasma.
Nothing can be held still by a static field
However many charges are arranged, however cleverly, a charge placed among them has somewhere to fall. The reason is one line of arithmetic — the potential in empty space satisfies Laplace's equation, and a solution of that equation has no interior maximum or minimum — and the consequence is that every real trap for a charged particle works by breaking one of the assumptions rather than by being cleverer.
The coupling that is the same both ways
A small loop and a large one catch the same fraction of each other's field. Nothing in the geometry suggests it — one has twenty-one times the area of the other — and the two quantities are computed here by two integrals with nothing in common, over two surfaces of different shapes, agreeing to seven parts in ten thousand.
The field that is pushed out
A perfect conductor keeps whatever field was inside it when its resistance vanished. A superconductor expels the field either way, and the difference between remembering and expelling is the experiment that showed superconductivity is a state of matter rather than a very good conductor.
The wave that comes from the rim
A shadow's edge is not a boundary between light and no light, and the fringes on either side of it are not a smudge. The whole pattern is the sum of two things — the light nothing blocked, and a single wave that behaves in every respect as though the rim of the obstacle were radiating it — and splitting it that way is exact rather than a picture.
The force that lives where the model is not
A slab of glass held at the mouth of a charged capacitor is pulled in. Inside the parallel-plate model there is no force at all — the field is perpendicular to the slab's motion everywhere — and the same model's energy nevertheless gives the pull exactly right. The mechanism is entirely in the part of the field the model throws away.
The pressure a charge puts on its own metal
Charge on a conductor sits on the surface and tries to leave. The outward pull is half epsilon-nought E squared, the half is because a charge exerts no force on itself, and setting that pull against surface tension gives the largest a charged drop is allowed to be — a number Rayleigh wrote down in 1882 and an industry now depends on.
The light that pulls rather than pushes
Radiation pressure is momentum arriving, and it points along the beam. A gradient of intensity does something else entirely — it polarises a particle and then pulls the induced dipole up the gradient — so a focused beam holds a particle at its waist against the push, and the force that does it is not a pressure at all.
The circuit that fights its own change
Every circuit is threaded by the field its own current makes, so every circuit resists having that current altered. It is the reason a coil takes time to start and the reason breaking one makes a voltage a thousand times the supply's.
The symmetry one missing charge would complete
Maxwell's equations with no sources are unchanged by rotating the electric field into the magnetic one. With sources they are not, and the only thing missing is magnetic charge — which, if one existed anywhere, would force every electric charge in the universe to be a multiple of a fixed unit.
The momentum of something that is not moving
A current loop sitting still in an electric field has momentum in the space around it. Nothing is moving, so something must be carrying an equal and opposite amount — and it is the loop, whose carriers on the high-potential side are more energetic than those on the low.
The phase a magnet leaves on a path it never touched
An electron beam split around a solenoid comes back with its fringes displaced, although neither path ever entered a magnetic field. What the electron responds to is the flux it went round, and the only local quantity that knows about that flux is the potential.
The force read off a surface that touches nothing
Draw any closed surface through empty space, measure the field on it, and the sum of one expression over that surface is the total force on everything inside — whatever the contents are, and without knowing anything about them. The expression is Maxwell's stress tensor, and it turns Faraday's guess about tension along a field line into an exact statement.
The drift that does not care what the charge is
A charge in a uniform magnetic field goes round in a circle and arrives nowhere. Add anything at all — an electric field, gravity, a gradient in the magnetic field itself — and the circle's centre creeps sideways, at right angles to both. One of those drifts is the same for every particle regardless of charge, sign or mass; the others are not, and the difference decides what a plasma does.
The same force whichever way the surface faces
A magnetic field's stress is usually described as a pressure across the lines with a tension along them, as though it were two effects. It is one. The force per unit area is B²/2μ₀ on every surface however it is oriented, and only the direction changes — the surface normal reflected in the field, so that turning the surface one way turns the force the other. At 45° neither name applies.
The wave that does not know what the gas is made of
Give the magnetic tension of a bent field line an inertia and it becomes a string. The wave that runs along it goes at the same speed at every wavelength, compresses nothing anywhere, and has a speed containing no temperature, no pressure and no sound speed — it is the only wave in classical physics that is indifferent to what the medium is. Its energy travels along the field whatever direction the wave was sent in.
The angle a voltage can set
A contact angle is treated as a fact about three materials — a solid, a liquid and the air — fixed the moment they are chosen. Put a voltage across a micrometre of insulator under a drop and the angle falls as the square of the voltage, with nothing about the materials changed. Drops can be steered across a chip with no pump, and a lens can focus with no moving part. The law that describes it is exact in its model, and real surfaces stop obeying it at an angle nobody has fully explained.
The potential is where the wanderers stop
Start a random walker at a point between charged conductors and let it wander until it touches one of them. The average potential of the surfaces the walkers touch is the potential at the starting point — exactly, with no equation solved — and the charge a conductor keeps at each place on its surface is the chance that a walker arriving from far away touches it there first.
The field that points against the magnet it is in
There are two magnetic fields in use and the difference between them is which currents a loop is allowed to count. The consequence nobody expects on being told the definitions: inside a permanent magnet H points the other way from B. It has to — a loop inside the magnet threads no wire, so its H circulation is zero, and the only arrangement left has H running backwards.
The shape that takes five numbers
A charge distribution's net charge is one number and its dipole three. The next term, the quadrupole, is where the distribution's shape first reaches the far field, and it is a table of nine numbers of which only five survive: two for the shape and three for which way it points. Its field vanishes on a cone at 54.74° — the same angle at which a spinning sample makes a nuclear magnetic resonance spectrum sharp.
The wave that can only travel west
A column of air or water on a spinning planet keeps one quantity as it moves: its total spin divided by its depth. Carry it north, where the planet's own spin about the local vertical is larger, and it must turn the other way to compensate. That single bookkeeping rule makes a wave that exists nowhere else — one whose crests can only ever move west — and the same rule holds the jet stream's meanders still over the mountains, makes the ocean take decades to notice a change in the wind, and pins the Gulf Stream to the western side of the Atlantic.
The field that keeps Greenwich time
Over a calm ocean, a thousand kilometres from any storm, the air carries a downward electric field of about a hundred volts per metre, and it rises and falls by a sixth once a day. It peaks at the same instant on every ship on every ocean — near seven in the evening in Greenwich, whatever the local clock says. Nothing local can do that. The field is the far end of a circuit whose upper plate is a single conductor round the whole planet, and a conductor has one potential, so every patch of fair-weather sky is reading the sum of all the world's thunderstorms at once.
The liquid a field turns solid
Stir fine starch or glass beads into silicone oil and the result pours like cream. Put a few kilovolts across it and within milliseconds it holds its shape and will not flow until it is pushed hard. Nothing in it is charged. Each particle becomes a dipole in the field, dipoles pull on each other end to end and push apart side by side, and so the particles string themselves into chains from one electrode to the other — a solid made of forces that exist only while the voltage is on.
The beam that stops pushing itself apart
A beam of electrons is a crowd of like charges, and a crowd of like charges flies apart. A slow beam does, within centimetres. A fast one hardly does at all: at a gigaelectronvolt the same current travels kilometres before its width doubles. The electric repulsion has not weakened — it has grown, by the factor γ. What has grown faster is a magnetic attraction between parallel currents, which cancels all but 1/γ² of the push. Seen from the beam itself there is no magnetism at all, only Coulomb repulsion acting while the beam's clocks run slow.
The field a spinning superconductor makes of itself
Spin a lump of superconductor with no magnet anywhere near it, and a magnetic field appears inside it, pointing along the axis of spin: about eleven trillionths of a tesla for every radian per second, the same in lead, niobium or a copper-oxide ceramic. The field is not left over from anything. In a turning frame the Coriolis force on a moving charge is indistinguishable from a magnetic force, a superconductor will not let its carriers feel any field inside it, and so it makes a real field to cancel the one rotation imitates. The size depends on nothing but the carriers' mass and charge, which makes the field a balance for weighing them — and the one time it was read to a part in a hundred thousand, it gave an answer theory has not matched.
The spin that runs ahead of its own motion
A charged particle circling in a magnetic field has two directions that turn: the direction it is moving, and the direction its spin points. If the particle's magnetism were exactly what Dirac's equation first gave — a g-factor of exactly two — the two would turn together at every speed, the spin locked to the motion as a compass needle is locked to a car. The muon's g is not quite two, and its spin creeps ahead by a fixed rate that is the same at a crawl and at 99.94 per cent of the speed of light. That constancy is a delicate cancellation between a magnetic field made stronger by motion and a rotation that exists only because the particle is being turned, and it is what made the most precise measurements of the muon possible — at one magic speed, where the electric fields that steer the particles stop affecting the spin at all.
The current that squeezes what carries it
A current flowing along a column of hot gas makes a magnetic field that wraps round the column, and the field pushes the current inward. If the column is a plasma, free to move, it is squeezed. Ampère's law and a balance of forces then fix how much current a column of given temperature needs to hold itself together — and the answer does not depend on how wide the column is or how its plasma is arranged inside. Ten thousand electronvolts in ten million million million ions per metre needs 0.8 million amperes, whatever the shape. Above about 1.4 million amperes the same arithmetic says a hydrogen column radiates faster than its current can heat it, and collapses.
Why the glow of a fast charge is blue
A charge moving in a straight line at constant speed does not radiate — in a vacuum. In water, if it moves faster than light does in water, it glows, and the glow is blue. The cone of the light is the familiar half of the story. The other half is a count: Frank and Tamm's formula says each centimetre of water yields about two hundred visible photons, in numbers that rise as the inverse square of the wavelength, which is why a reactor pool shines blue and why the light keeps getting stronger into the ultraviolet until water stops being transparent. The charge never accelerates. What radiates is the water.
The light a charge makes by changing medium
A charge moving at constant speed in a straight line radiates nothing in a vacuum, and nothing in glass either if it is slower than light there. Let it cross from one into the other and it radiates at the boundary, though it neither turns nor slows. The field it carries has one shape in each medium and has to be rebuilt as it crosses, and what is shed in the rebuilding is light. The energy shed grows in proportion to the particle's Lorentz factor, the one property of a fast particle that almost nothing else measures at high energy, and this is why detectors stack hundreds of plastic foils in a particle's path to collect one or two X-rays.
The push at the end of a pair of rails
A railgun is two metal rails, a sliding conductor across them and a very large current, and the push on the slider is half the inductance per metre times the current squared. The half is not a fudge. The slider sits at the end of two rails that stop, and a wire that stops gives exactly half the field of one that does not. Followed through, the same circuit pushes its own rails apart six times harder per metre than it pushes the projectile, stores as much energy in its field as it gives the projectile, and wastes less the faster it shoots.
The field a changing field does not make
Faraday's law says a changing magnetic field comes with a curling electric field, and Maxwell's correction to Ampère's law says the reverse, and the two are almost always read as a chain of causes: each field makes the other, and that is how light carries itself across empty space. Solved for what the fields actually are, Maxwell's equations say something different. Every field at every place is an integral over the charges and currents on the observer's past light cone, and over nothing else. The changing fields are not sources; they are two descriptions of the same retarded currents, and the laws that relate them hold because both are computed from one history.
The gyroscope a spinning Earth turns
A moving charge makes a magnetic field, and a spinning charged ball makes a dipole field around it. Gravity has the same structure one level down: a spinning mass drags the local standards of rotation around with it, and a perfect gyroscope near the Earth turns, very slightly, in the pattern of a dipole field — with the Earth's spin over the poles and against it over the equator. Averaged round a polar orbit the turning is 41 milliarcseconds a year. It took forty-four years and a satellite carrying the roundest objects ever made to measure it.
The magnets that put their whole field on one side
Lay bar magnets in a row, each turned a quarter turn from the last, and the row's field appears almost entirely on one side, with almost nothing on the other — although every magnet in it, alone, is perfectly symmetric. Turn the magnetisation smoothly instead of in steps and the weak side has no field at all, exactly. Nothing is shielding it. The two halves of the pattern each make a symmetric field, and their fields line up on one side and cancel on the other, because a magnetisation that turns as it goes can only make the field that decays in one direction.
The path a charge takes is not its field line
A field line is drawn by stepping along the direction of the force, and it is natural to read it as the route a charge would take. It is not. A field line is the curve whose direction is the force; a charge's path is the curve whose bending is the force, and the two agree only where the charge starts from rest. A charge released beside a dipole sets off along its line and then swings wide of it, carried by the speed it has gained; a charge launched round a point charge circles it on an ellipse that crosses every line. Only two things make a charge keep to its line: enough friction that it never has a speed of its own, or a magnetic field.
The twist a bottle of plasma has to have
A straight magnetic bottle leaks out of its ends, so the obvious repair is to bend it round into a ring. A ring of field with no twist in it loses its plasma in about three millionths of a second. Adding a twist repairs that by making a drift average to nothing, and adding too much makes the whole column kink like an overwound rubber band. A tokamak is built in the narrow band between those two failures.
The current a vacuum will not carry
A vacuum has no resistance, and yet a gap of empty space will carry only so much current for a given voltage, however freely its cathode offers electrons. The charge already crossing cancels the field that would pull the next one off. Gauss's law gives the result in a few lines, and it says something odd about ion engines: their thrust per square metre does not depend on what the ion is, and it is exactly the electric stress on their grid.