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His major difficulty was designing experiments that could demonstrate an effect scientifically. Even though his laboratory experiments were now entirely automated, when he left the office, the plants would remain attuned to him, no matter now far away he went. If Backster and his partner were at a bar a block away during an experiment, he would discover that the plants were not responding to the brine shrimp, but to the rising and falling animation of their conversations. It got so difficult to isolate reactions to specific events that eventually he had to design experiments that would be carried out by strangers in another lab.
Repeatability remained another big problem. Any tests required spontaneity and true intent. He had discovered this when the famous remote viewer Ingo Swann had come to visit him at his lab in October 1971. Swann wanted to repeat Backster’s initial experiment with his Dracaena. As expected, the plant’s polygraph began to spike when Swann imagined burning the plant with a match. He tried it again, and the plant reacted wildly, then stopped.
‘What does that mean?’ Swann asked.
Backster shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
The thought that occurred to Swann was so bizarre that he was not sure whether to say it aloud. ‘Do you mean,’ he said, ‘that it has learned that I’m not serious about really burning its leaf? So that it now knows it need not be alarmed?’
‘You said it, I didn’t,’ Backster replied. ‘Try another kind of harmful thought.’
Swann thought of putting acid in the plant’s pot. The needle on the polygraph again began to zigzag wildly. Eventually, the plant appeared to understand that Swann was not serious. The polygraph tracing flat-lined. Swann, a plant lover who was already convinced that plants were sentient, was nevertheless shocked at the thought that plants could learn to differentiate between true and artificial human intent: a plant learning curve.10
Although certain questions remain about Backster’s unorthodox research methods, the sheer bulk of his evidence argues strongly for some sort of primary responsiveness and attuning, if not sentience, present in all organisms, no matter how primitive. But for my purposes, Backster’s real contribution was his discovery of the telepathic communication carrying on between every living thing and its environment. Somehow, a constant stream of messages was being sent out, received and replied to.
Backster had to wait some years to discover the mechanism of this communication, which became apparent when physicist Fritz-Albert Popp discovered biophotons.11 At first Popp believed that a living organism used biophoton emissions solely as a means of instantaneous, non-local signalling from one part of the body to another – to send information about the global state of the body’s health, say, or the effects of any particular treatment. But then Popp grew intrigued by the most fascinating effect of all: the light seemed to be a communications system between living things.12 In experiments with Daphnia, a common water flea, he discovered that female water fleas were absorbing the light emitted from each other and sending back wave interference patterns, as though they had taken the light sent to themselves and updated it with more information. Popp concluded that this activity may be the mechanism enabling fleas to stay together when they swarm – a silent communication holding them together like an invisible net.13
He decided to examine the light emissions between dinoflagellates, luminescent algae that cause phosphorescence in seawater. These single-celled organisms sit somewhere between an animal and a plant in the evolutionary scale; although they are classified as a plant, they move like a primitive animal. Popp discovered that the light of each dinoflagellate was coordinated with that of its neighbours, as if each were holding aloft a tiny lantern on cue.14 Chinese colleagues of Popp’s who had tried positioning two samples of the algae so that they could ‘see’ each other through a shutter also found that the light emissions from each sample were synchronous. The researchers concluded that they had witnessed a highly sophisticated means of communication. There was no doubt that the two samples were signalling to each other.15
These organisms also appeared to be registering light from other species, although the greatest synchronicities occurred between members of the same species.16 Once the light waves of one organism were initially absorbed by another organism, the first organism’s light would begin trading information in synchrony.17 Living things also appeared to communicate information with their surroundings. Bacteria absorbed light from their nutritional media: the more bacteria present, Popp found, the greater the absorption of light.18 Even the white and yolk of an egg appear to communicate with the shell.19
This communication carries on, even if an organism is cut into pieces. Gary Schwartz cut up a batch of string beans, placed them between 1 millimetre and 10 millimetres apart, and then used the NSF CCD camera he had borrowed to take a series of photographs of the sections. Using software to enhance the light between the beans, he discovered so much light between the sections that it appeared as though the bean were whole again. Even though the string beans had been severed, the individual sections carried on their communication to the rest of the vegetable.20 This may be the mechanism accounting for the feeling described by amputees with phantom limb sensations. The light of the body still communicates with the energetic ‘footprint’ of the amputated limb.
Like Backster, Popp discovered that living things are exquisitely in tune with their environment through these light emissions. One of Popp’s colleagues, Professor Wolfgang Klimek, the head of the Ministry of Research for the German government, devised an ingenious experiment to examine whether creatures such as algae were aware of past disturbances in their environment. He prepared two containers of seawater, and shook one of them. After 10 minutes, when the water in the shaken container had settled down, he placed samples of dinoflagellates in the two vessels. Those algae exposed to the shaken water suddenly increased their photon emissions – a sign of stress. The algae appeared to be aware of the slightest change in their environment – even a historical change – and responded with alarm.21
Another of Popp’s colleagues, Eduard Van Wijk, a Dutch psychologist, wondered how far this influence extended. Did a living thing register information from the entire environment, and not simply between two communicating entities? When a healer sends out healing intention, for instance, how far does his field of influence extend? Would he only affect his target, or would his aim have a shotgun effect, affecting other living organisms around the target?
Van Wijk placed a jar of Acetabularia acetabulum, another simple algae, near a healer and his patient, then measured the photon emissions of the algae during healing sessions and periods of rest. After analysing the data, he discovered remarkable alterations in the photon count of the algae. The quality of emissions significantly changed during the healing sessions, as though the algae were being bombarded with light. There also seemed to be changes in the rhythm of the emissions, as though the algae had become attuned to a stronger source of light.
During his initial research, Popp had discovered a strange reaction to light by a living thing. If he shone a bright light on an organism,
