Making Waves

The talented physicist and electrical engineer Alexander Popov was born 160 years ago. In the Soviet Union, he was seen as the “father” of radio, but not in the rest of the world. Why is that?

Every aspect of wireless communication pervading our modern world has one common ancestor: radio. Without it, there would be nothing: no internet, no cell phones, no broadcasting. In the annals of radio communication, fact is intertwined with fiction, and no one even remembers exactly what words were first officially spoken and transmitted over the air. However, we do remember the great “radio-war” – the fight over who was “first” in this groundbreaking field.

Did Popov invent the radio? Absolutely. Was he the only one to do so? Absolutely not. Yet it is not as if the controversy has not quieted down – it has. In fact, most experts agree: the radio is the result of the collective work of many researchers, engineers, and technicians.

Heinrich Hertz in Germany, Nikola Tesla in the United States, Oliver Lodge in England, Jagadish Chandra Bose in India – the list goes on. They are all considered founders of this new field, and they all have their own “cheerleaders.”  One name that is practically forgotten now is Nathan Stubblefield, a farmer from Kentucky who created a working wireless communication system as early as 1892. He was essentially a pauper when he died, and after his death it was discovered that no trace of his invention remained – none of his devices and technical drawings were found.

But if this invention has so many “fathers,” then what role, exactly, did Popov play?

In fact, there were really only two main rivals staking a claim as the inventor of radio. The Soviet Union was “rooting for” Alexander Popov, while Italy argued for Guglielmo Marconi.

The son of a priest from the Urals who studied physics and then went on to teach it, Popov was by no means a creation of Soviet propaganda. And it is impossible to overstate his contribution in shaping the field of radio engineering. On May 7, 1895, Popov presented his wireless telegraph to the Russian Physical and Chemical Society. That day became a signal moment in the history of Russian science.

In discussing this history, however, we must be careful with our wording.

“The common expression, ‘Popov invented the radio’ is not, strictly speaking, accurate,” says Sergei Mishenkov, a professor in the Department of Radio and Television at the Moscow Technical University of Communications and Informatics. “Radio can never be invented, just as you can never invent lightning. You can invent some apparatus, but inventing the phenomenon, as such, is impossible. It existed before Popov and it will exist for eternity.”

Instead, Popov, having for the first time introduced a working communication channel, launched the era of radio.

Nationwide fame came to the scientist when he organized radio communications as part of the rescue of the battleship General-Admiral Apraksin, that had run aground, and in saving fishermen carried out to sea by an ice floe. Thereafter, the fate of Popov’s brainchild continued to be closely connected with the Navy. However, at first, according to Professor Mishenkov, “there were doubts in the Navy about just how this invention would be used. Apparently, they trusted telegraph tape more, since it left a record.”

Marconi and Popov began simultaneously experimenting with the transmission of wireless signals. And while Popov published his findings in a scientific journal but didn’t apply for a patent due to the military nature of the discovery, Marconi, after applying in 1896, received a patent and immediately put his creation on the market.

And so, there was no plot against Popov and his work in the international scientific community. Nevertheless, there was little said of Marconi’s discoveries in the Soviet Union, just as many Western countries were silent regarding Popov.

The 1949 black and white film, Alexander Popov, produced by the Lenfilm studio, portrayed history in starkly black and white terms: the soulless money-grubber and barefaced plagiarizer versus the exalted and irreprehensible Popov, with his faith in the glorious socialist future.

At the time, propaganda tried by any means to establish the primacy of “our” discoveries in various fields, and here was an irresistible opportunity. Nonetheless, from a popular science perspective, the film is quite good. From it, even a child was able to understand how signals can be transmitted without wires. The filmmakers were awarded the Stalin Prize three years after Alexander Popov’s release.

It would be wrong to suggest that Popov’s invention had no commercial success, as it led to the manufacture of radio equipment by the French instrument maker, Eugene Ducretet, and the production of equipment for the navy by a new Kronstadt radio workshop. The Department of Wireless Telegraphy Based on A.S. Popov’s System emerged as a joint venture. There were medals and major awards, but no Nobel Prize. The Nobel Prize in Physics was awarded to Marconi in 1909, after the death of his Russian rival.

Right before the Soviet Union’s victory in World War II, the Council of People’s Commissars issued a decree:

“In commemoration of the fiftieth anniversary of the invention of radio by the Russian scientist A.S. Popov, considering the vital role that radio plays in the cultural and political life of the country, as well as for national defense, in order to popularize the achievements of Soviet science and technology in the field of radio, and in order to promote amateur radio, May 7 shall be established as Radio Day.”

As a result, interest in amateur radio as a hobby indeed grew by leaps and bounds in the Soviet Union. The journals Radio and Guide for Radio Amateurs had circulations into the many thousands. Radio component stores began to crop up in every large city (not to mention the treasures that could be found in flea-markets). Of course, one reason for this popularity was the short supply and high prices of consumer electronics, which today exist in abundance.

The press often writes about how Popov didn’t hold a grudge against Marconi and that they apparently became friends. Journalists particularly like an amusing story of how Popov, in a fit of friendly affection, sent generous gifts to Marconi’s wedding – a Tula samovar made of silver, and a sealskin coat. This anecdote spread courtesy of Marconi’s daughter, Degna, who wrote in passing about it in her book My Father, Marconi.

Orest Vendik, professor emeritus in the field of radio engineering at St. Petersburg Electrotechnical University, finds the story highly unlikely.*

“At that time Popov was working as a professor at the Electrotechnical Institute, with an annual salary of three thousand rubles. And that was his only income. A samovar made of silver and a sealskin coat would have been very expensive gifts.”

Professor Vendik conducted his own investigation and eventually discovered that the person who sent the expensive gifts wasn’t Popov the scientist, but someone with the same surname: a Russian industrialist. So, the legend about being on friendly terms stems from a case of mistaken identity. Yes, Popov admitted that the device he created was less sensitive than that of his competitor, but he neither became friends nor did he openly feud with Marconi.

To this day, a chapter in the physics textbook for Russian high schools is titled “Popov’s Radio Invention.” And somewhere, careening through our Solar System, there is the asteroid 3074 Popov, also named in honor of this brilliant inventor.