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CCO Public Domain
Creole Technologies
In this original essay written nearly a decade ago, historian of science and technology David Edgerton introduces the concept of creole technology by foregrounding the varied transformations of technologies that attend to locally specific situations and thereby putting actual and, more importantly, derivative use over invention.
Conflating Use/Innovation and Past/Present
The vast majority of accounts of technology (academic and popular) conflate technology with technological novelty (invention/innovation/creativity). Such studies cannot usefully contribute to a rethinking of standard accounts of technology and society, for they are concerned neither with what technologies actors had available to them, nor indeed what was invented. Rather they focus on the early history of some technologies, which later became important. Yet despite such limitations, such studies, implicitly and explicitly, do seek to say something about both invention/innovation and the relations of technology and society. Yet if we do want to examine these we need studies of technology-in-use on the one hand, and of invention/innovation on the other. This will yield a dramatically different picture to the one implicit in most existing accounts, and will allow us furthermore, to engage with and challenge, standard general historical accounts.
As well as conflating invention/innovation and use, most writing about past technology is not concerned with the place of technology in history, but with something subtly but significantly different. Its aim is to illustrate with examples from the past, what one historian calls, after Martin Heidegger, “the question of technology.”Thomas J. Misa, Leonardo to the Internet: Technology and Culture from the Renaissance to the Present. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004
That is, the main concern is with exploring the nature of technology, its malleability, relation to culture, and so on. This helps us to understand more why so little work set in the past is concerned with historical arguments about technology, let alone challenging existing historical pictures. Its concerns are elsewhere.
The conflation of invention/innovation and technology is deep-seated. It is found not only in older studies, but is central to most work in the social construction of technology (SCOT) and actor-network theory (ANT) traditions.A criticism made by Langdon Winner, who had long been concerned with use. See Langdon Winner, “Upon Opening the Black Box and Finding it Empty: Social Constructivism and the Philosophy of Technology,” Science, Technology & Human Values, vol. 18, no. 3 (1993), pp. 362‒78. It is also there, despite immediate appearances, in Ruth Schwartz Cowan’s call for the study of the “consumption junction,” and in Ruth Oldenzeil’s subsequent arguments that studying users shows women active in the shaping of technology.Ruth Schwartz Cowan, “The Consumption Junction: A Proposal for Research Strategies in the Sociology of Technology,” in Wiebe E. Bijker et al. (eds), The Social Construction of Technological Systems. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1987, pp. 261‒80. Studies of users and innovation, going back to the 1970s, and later developed under the SCOT tradition, and recently extended, are similarly primarily concerned with users and changing technologies.Ruth Oldenziel, “Man the Maker, Woman the Consumer: The Consumption Junction Revisited,” in Angela N. H. Creager et al. (eds), Feminism in the Twentieth Century: Science, Technology and Medicine. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2001, pp. 128‒48; Trevor Pinch and Nelly Oudshoorn (eds), How Users Matter: The Co-Construction of Users and Technologies. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003. It is revealing too that the key concept of “technological determinism” has been routinely defined as something along the lines of “technical change causing social change” rather than the older definition of technology shaping society. It is also significant that in STS and history of technology circles it was primarily criticized as a theory of technology, rather than what it classically was: a theory of society and history.For examples, see David Edgerton, “De l’innovation aux usages. Dix thèses éclectiques sur l’histoire des Techniques,” Annales Histoire, Sciences Sociales, vol. 53 (1998), pp. 815‒37; trans. “From Innovation to Use: Ten (Eclectic) Theses on the History of Technology,” History and Technology, vol. 16 (1999), pp. 1‒26.
In recent years there have been serious and rewarding efforts by historians of technology to engage with general histories of the nation and the world. Yet here too an innovation-centric picture of technology has been central. Thomas Hughes has written just such a book, explicitly committed to a providing a history of America. It is called, appropriately and revealingly, American Genesis: A Century of Invention and Technological Enthusiasm.Thomas Hughes, American Genesis: A Century of Invention and Technological Enthusiasm. New York: Viking, 1989. More recently Pauline Maier, Merritt Roe Smith, Alexander Kayssar, and Daniel Kevles have written a textbook of American history which includes much material on innovation in science, technology, and medicine: the book is called Inventing America: A History of the United States.Pauline Maier et al., Inventing America: A History of the United States. New York: Norton, 2003, 2 vols. Global histories of technology too are innovation-centric. One very recent world history of technology illustrates this. The period 1870‒1930 is discussed in terms of research and invention in electricity and chemicals; 1936‒1990 in terms of the wartime history of the atomic bomb, electronics, and computing; and 1970‒2001 in terms of the fax, hamburgers, and the internet.This is my reading of Thomas Hughes, American Genesis, and recent textbooks, namely Carroll Pursell, The Machine in America: A Social History of Technology. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995; Ruth Schwartz Cowan, A Social History of American Technology. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997; and Thomas J. Misa, Leonardo to the Internet. Such a list of technologies, in this chronological form is, apart from the hamburger, far from idiosyncratic. It is very similar to the choice of technology in works on the history of US technology in their coverage of the twentieth century: the interwar period tends to have electricity, motor cars, and aviation, and the period of the Second World War and later is deemed to be the age of nuclear power, computers, space rockets, and the internet.Misa, Leonardo to the Internet, 1900‒1950 is also dealt with in terms of modern architecture. One historian of the United States claims explicitly that “four technological systems have dominated twentieth-century history: automobiles, and their attendant roads and fuel sources; aircraft, spacecraft and also rockets; electronic communication devices; from wireless telegraphy to personal computers; and finally, biotechnologies, new foodstuffs, medications, and contraceptives,” an argument which has the virtue of insisting on the simultaneous existence of these systems.Schwartz Cowan, A Social History of American Technology, p. 221.
Innovation-centeredness is also found in the global histories of writers other than professional historians of technology. So-called “long-wave” theories, which see the world economy going through fifty-year cycles of activity, driven by innovation, are a good example.Chris Freeman and Francisco Louçã, As Time Goes By: From the Industrial Revolutions to the Information Revolution. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002; Carlota Perez, Technological Revolutions and Financial Capital: The Dynamics of Bubbles and Golden Ages. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 2002. Nathan Rosenberg and Claudio Frischtak wrote a devastating critique of such writings as they first appeared. See their “Technological Innovation and Long Waves,” Cambridge Journal of Economics, vol. 8, no. 1 (1984), pp. 7‒24; reprinted in Nathan Rosenberg, Exploring the Black Box. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Of course, it did not stop production of such work: the key long-wave innovator was the East German Gerhard Mensch, Das technologische Patt: Innovationen überwinden die Depression. Frankfurt: Umschau Verlag, 1975. The Schumpeterian focus on innovation is also central to the global historical work of David Landes and Joel Mokyr: for them a few innovations are of crucial importance, and are discussed mainly around the time of innovation.David S Landes, The Unbound Prometheus: Technological Change and Industrial Development in Western Europe from 1750 to the Present. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969; Joel Mokyr, The Gifts of Athena: Historical Origins of the Knowledge Economy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2002. Many global histories show a Smithian focus on technologies of communication, with, again, a strong innovation-centric bias.For example, J. R. McNeill and William H. McNeill, The Human Web: A Bird’s-eye View of World History. New York: Norton, 2003.We need to stress that these are not studies of innovation, but rather of studies of the economy, focused on innovation.
Our understanding of the technology (and science) of the twentieth century is thus, I suggest, nowhere near as securely based as we routinely assume; our mental maps need redrawing.
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Our shared accounts of rich-world technology are systematically biased by a conflation of stories of innovation and use, and the focus on technologies and sciences of high cultural resonance at the early stages of diffusion. We have many critiques of what is taken to be old-fashioned history of technology – it is taken to be masculine-oriented, production-oriented, materialistic, determinist, internal etc. which is to be countered by new approaches. But we don’t in fact have even a coherent productionist, masculine, materialist account of technology (either of technology-in-use or invention) and history in the twentieth century.Thanks to Eric Schatzberg for helping me formulate this point.
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To produce a full account of technology we need a new approach. It needs to distinguish clearly between use and invention/innovation, and to focus on each. It should not be concerned with replacing the study of innovation with the study of use but rather needs to recognize the significance of the distinction for the study of each. In its focus on technologies-in-use it has distinguished predecessors, including the work of feminist historians like Ruth Schwartz Cowan,Siegfried Giedion, Mechanization Takes Command: A Contribution to Anonymous History. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1948; Ruth Schwartz Cowan, More Work for Mother: The Ironies of Household Technology from the Open Hearth to the Microwave. New York: Basic Books, 1983; Cynthia Cockburn and Susan Ormrod, Gender and Technology in the Making. London: Sage, 1993; Stewart Brand, How buildings Learn: What Happens After They’re Built. London: Viking, 1994. See also Carroll Pursell, “Seeing the Invisible: New Perceptions in the History of Technology,” ICON, vol. 1 (1995), pp. 9‒15. historians concerned with the environment, and historians of technology, above all Svante Lindqvist.Svante Lindqvist, “Changes in the Technological Landscape: The Temporal Dimension in the Growth and Decline of Large Technological Systems,” in Ove Granstrand (ed.), Economics of Technology. Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1994, pp. 271‒88; John McNeill, Something New Under the Sun: An Environmental History of the Twentieth Century. London: Penguin, 2000; Vaclav Smil, Energy in World History. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1994; Paul Josephson, Industrialized Nature: Brute Force Technology and the Transformation of the Natural World. Washington, DC: Island Press, 2002; Andrea Tone, Devices and Desires: A History of Contraceptives in America. New York: Hill and Wang, 2001; Ronald Kline, Consumers in the Country: Technology and Social Change in Rural America. Baltimore, MD, and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000. In the history of invention, oddly enough, it has fewer recent works of note to draw on, especially for the twentieth century.Though, see Kees Gispen, Poems in Steel: The Politics of Invention from Weimar to Bonn. Oxford: Berghahn, 2001. The shift away from the conflation of technology and innovation is just the beginning. We need to be concerned with all kinds of technologies. Rather than seeking to replace a history focused on high-tech, masculine, industrial technologies with low-tech, the feminine, and the domestic, we need to deal with both, with the aim of getting a sense of the material basis of human existence. We need also, I would argue, to engage with history, and not just the question of technology, and to do it in a particular way, offering a new kind of post-contextualist history to those already available.
This point requires a brief elaboration. One of the great aims of historians of technology has been to write contextual histories of technology/innovation, that is to say histories which locate their subject matter within their historical context. Historians of technology/innovation have become experts not just in particular technologies but in particular contexts.Those contexts have often been national, just as most histories are national, which raises problems in itself. But what is the context? Is it the conclusions of other historians? If so, which? Histories are as contested as we want technologies to be. There are deeper problems still: contextualism assumes that technology was not present in the literature on the context, and explicitly that was often the case. But there is a great difficulty here, which is that existing historical work, and indeed contemporary sources, already have a particular account of technology in them.
No history of the USA, or of Britain, or anywhere, in the twentieth century, especially, does not already have an implicit history of science and technology in it. There is a problem of circularity.
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One way out of all these problems is write the “history of content and context together,” to write a history from all the materials to hand.Andy Pickering calls for histories “without regard for traditional distinctions between history of science and history more generally, and especially without centering research upon an archive demarcated by such distinctions. Such an approach would blur the disciplinary identity of historians of science, of course, but no one is better placed than historians of science to speak of the truly integral place of science in global history, and the end result might be a clearer view of global history itself.” Andrew Pickering, “The Rad Lab and the World,” British Journal of the History of Science, vol. 25, no. 2 (1992), pp. 247‒51, here p. 251. This leads to the use of concepts like co-production and mutual constitution of technology, politics, history. They are useful not least because they get us away from bashing at technological determinism.Gabrielle Hecht, The Radiance of France: Nuclear Power and National Identity after World War II. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1998, is an example, in part, of this approach. See also Michael Allen and Gabrielle Hecht (eds), Technologies of Power: Essays in Honor of Thomas Parke Hughes and Agatha Chipley Hughes. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2001. But there is a real risk in using this approach of falling for the Latourian temptation of seeing the world being recreated from scratch in the laboratory, and of following the scientists and engineers a little too closely. The danger is that we end up reproducing (yet again, I would argue) their accounts of national and world history, even if it is with a different gloss and in new language.See for example, Bruno Latour, “Give Me a Laboratory and I will Raise the World,” in Karin Knorr-Cetina and Michael Mulkay (eds), Science Observed. London: Sage, 1983, pp. 141‒70; and also Bruno Latour, Aramis: The Love of Technology. Cambridge: MA, Harvard University Press, 1996.
A different kind of post-contextual history is possible, and I think necessary. It needs to get away from its focus on scientists and engineers, and their originality, and to examine the extent to which, for example, the ideas of scientists and engineers, about science and technology to politics, are derivative rather than original.For elaboration of these points see David Edgerton, “British Scientific intellectuals and the Relations of Science and War in Twentieth-Century Britain,” in Paul Forman and José-M. Sanchez Ron (eds), National Military Establishments and the Advancement of Science: Studies in Twentieth-Century History. Dordrecht: Kluwer, 1996, pp. 1‒35. It needs to examine carefully the assumptions that are made in accounts of technology and the context. That means understanding the standard narratives, often derived from popular sources, that shape our accounts (for example, in making them so innovation-centric). The point of a post-contextual picture is to give us a different account of the national and global historical context, and the place of technology in it, not merely adding technology to accounts.For examples, see David Edgerton, Warfare State: Britain 1920‒1970. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005; and David Edgerton, The Shock of the Old: Technology and Global History Since 1900. London and New York: Oxford University Press and Profile Books, 2007, which attempts to rethink standard accounts of production, war, nations, killing, and invention, by focusing on the technologies that were in use.
Thinking about twentieth-century horsepower, and technology and poor world is a good example of the need to rethink object and context, and the underlying assumptions made in our accounts of both. Let us start with the poor world: rarely taken seriously by sociologists or historians, it hardly figures in global histories.Peter Worsley, The Three Worlds: Culture and World Development. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1984, is a rare case. Some explanation of the term is required: I use it to mean that majority of places in the world, where the great majority of the population are and have been, by the standards of Western Europe and North America, very poor. In other words, I am referring to those places we more usually study under labels like “colonial,” “post-colonial,” “developing,” and “third-world,” none of which ever applied to all poor countries of the twentieth century.
In relation to technology the poor world is especially invisible.
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For innovation-centric history of technology the poor world does not exist as it has not been a significant technical innovator in recent centuries.An important and honourable exception is Arnold Pacey, Technology in World Civilization: A Thousand-Year History. Oxford: Blackwell, 1990, which has a fair amount on poor countries in the twentieth century. Thus a key built-in assumption in many kinds of treatments is that the poor world, with some notable exceptions (which I discuss further below), lacks modern technology. This rule is proved by the exceptions to it. Many general texts on technology will mention the “green revolution” of the 1960s and 1970s in poor parts of Asia. This is also interesting in that it is illustrative of the deep association between agriculture and poverty: it is rare to find other references to agriculture after 1945, even 1900, in histories of technology. That should be a matter of surprise, since there was a radical transformation in agriculture in the rich world, particularly after the mid-twentieth century, when agriculture saw much greater rates of productivity change than industry, and at much greater rates than before. This green revolution made a huge impact on patterns of world trade, belying the standard image of a poor agricultural world exporting food to a rich industrial world. The USA exported wheat to the USSR in the 1970s and 1980s and on a huge scale, and continues to export raw cotton to the whole world, including China.
The neglect of even the most modern agriculture goes along with a much wider neglect of non-industrial technologies in studies of the twentieth century: the horse, the camel, the donkey cart, the wooden plough, or the handloom, are seen as technologies of previous historical eras, not to be considered as part of the twentieth century. That they are primarily associated with a poor world makes them even more invisible as technologies, even in the poor world. Yet they, just like the airplane and the motorcar, were made, maintained, and used, and changed throughout the last century. They existed in the same, interconnected world. Our conceptualization of these technologies reveals a deeply embedded assumption of how technological space and time works, one in which spatially separated rich and poor are put on a temporal scale, as “developed” and “developing,” and in which we date technologies by invention. We may scoff at such naiveté, but we should not fall for the idea that we have an adequate account of the technology of the rich world, which we have to “decenter” to get a decent account of the poor world. We have to decenter that account to get a good account of the technology of both.David Arnold, “Europe, Technology, and Colonialism in the Twentieth Century,” History and Technology, vol. 21 (2005), pp. 85‒106, argues for the significance to the study of European technology of studying colonial technologies. My point here is more general.
[…]
Not Alphaville but Bidonville: Technology and the Poor Megacity
The story of the poor world and technology if it is told at all is one of transfer, resistance, incompetence, lack of maintenance, and enforced dependence on rich-world technology. Imperialism, colonialism, and dependence were the key concepts, and the transfer of technology from rich to poor, the main process.For an excellent review which parallels many of the arguments developed here, see Arnold, “Europe, Technology, and Colonialism.”There have been calls for the decentering of the standard “Western” account of technology, and thus for example, not to judge Chinese technology of the eighteenth century, say, by the standard of standard stories of British technology: different technologies were central.Francesca Bray, “Technics and Civilization in late Imperial China: An Essay in the Cultural History of technology,” Osiris, Series 2, vol. 13 (1998), pp. 11‒33. I would make the additional point that we should not believe that the standard story applies to the industrialized “West” either. Bray does not challenge the innovation-centeredness of most accounts of Western technology. Indeed, while one would expect anthropologists, archaeologists and so on to concentrate on use of established technologies, nevertheless in practice, innovation becomes central when “technology” comes into the frame. Thus Pierre Lemonnier’s notes of his own collection of essays that “most papers are concerned [not with invention but] with a subsequent step of the process of innovation, that of ‘choosing’ what to do with a new technical element, whether it has been contrived locally or not.” Pierre Lemonnier (ed.), Technological Choices: Transformation in Material Cultures Since the Neolithic. London: Routledge, 1993, p. 21. That is a crucial point, yet studies of technology in the poor world in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, even by post-colonial historians, focus precisely on (some) technologies brought from the rich world. The case of the “green revolution” has been mentioned. But the list is longer. Thus Gyan Prakash notes that to “speak of India is to call attention to the structures in which the lives of its people are enmeshed – railroads, steel plants, mining, irrigation, hydro-electric projects … and now, the bomb.”Gyan Prakash, Another Reason: Science and the Imagination of Modern India. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999, p. 3. The long list he produces hardly includes anything which did not come from outside India, and was not central to Western accounts of modernity. This is far from unusual, for most studies of that well-studied case of India, when dealing with “technology,” take this to mean railways, dams, does not include, to anything like the extent merited, the technologies most Indians used (though one should not underestimate indeed the importance of such things as railways in India). The interest is not primarily in the material basis of Indian life, but in technology, which almost by definition it seems, comes from the West, and is defined by what counts as technology in the histories.See for example the papers covering the twentieth century in Morris Low (ed.), “Beyond Joseph Needham: Science, Technology and Medicine in East and South East Asia,” Osiris, Series 2, vol. 13 (1998); Roy MacLeod and Deepak Kumar (eds), Technology and the Raj: Western Technology and Technical Transfers to India, 1700‒1947. New Delhi: Sage, 1995; and David Arnold, Science, Technology and Medicine in Colonial India. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. This is not to say we should not study railways, dams, or nuclear weapons in the poor world – far from it. It is to say that they do not exhaust the category “technology” in the poor world (just as it does not in the rich world), even that which originated in the rich world. Whatever the view taken of what technology has done in the poor world, what “technology” is has not been seriously debated.For some white European intellectuals in the interwar years, a critique of Western industrial civilization was built on celebration, often with noble savage overtones, of the ancient less corrupted cultures of Africa and Asia. A very few non-white intellectuals, and fewer African and Asians were themselves putting this forward, among them Rabindranath Tagore and Mahatma Gandhi. See Michael Adas, Machines as the Measure of Men: Science, Technology and Ideologies of Western Dominance. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1989, pp. 380‒401.
We don’t have a good account of the distinctiveness of the new poor world as it emerged in the twentieth century. We have neither an appreciation of the significance of “traditional” technologies – whether the crucial agricultural ones or any others – nor those brought by colonizing states, nor indeed that came in from the rich world through to native populations though trade, like the neglected cases of consumer durables like the bicycle and the sewing machine.A point also well made by David Arnold, “Europe, Technology and Colonialism.”
Yet we need to go further and see the poor world as a distinctive technological world, not merely a derivative one, or one which was a hybrid of rich and poor worlds. The poor world was particularly fast-growing and changing in the twentieth century. It depended on a complex, original, and changing technological landscape which included, importantly, mass technologies first developed elsewhere but used in distinctive ways. The technologies of the poor megacity, and particularly the materials from which is has been made, are a key case: they represent, today, a distinctive, new technology of poverty.Gustavo Riofrio and Jean-Claude Driant ¡Que Vivienda han construido? Nuevos
Problemas en viejas barriadas. Lima: CIDAP/IFEA/TAREA, 1987.
It is easy to underestimate the importance of the poor city in the twentieth century. Through the twentieth century they have growth at remarkable rates, as the poor world grew in population much faster than the rich world, and urbanized quickly too. By the end of the century (in stark contrast to the beginning) most of the largest cities of the world were poor places: where once Paris, London, and New York led in scale and opulence, the largest cities of 2000 were places few would seek to emulate: São Paolo, Jakarta, Karachi, Mumbai (Bombay), Dhaka, Lagos, and Mexico City. These cities did not replicate the earlier experience of Berlin or Manchester. These were not cities of horses, or of trains, or spinning mules, or great electrical or chemical industries. They do not conform to the standard story of modernity.
[…]
Creole Technologies
Corrugated iron, asbestos-cement, and cement were not invented in the poor world, they were first exported to it, and then locally produced. The growth of the poor world went along with a massive increase in use of these “old” technologies from the rich world, and yet also, importantly, it was a story of the spread of distinctive uses of these technologies. One can usefully describe them as creole technologies, not least as a way of pointing to the fact that most technologies in use are to varying extents creole. By a creole technology I mean one which finds a distinctive set of uses outside the time and place where it was first used on a significant scale. Thus it is to be distinguished from transferred technologies, though I include the latter in cases where the transferred technology is essentially no longer in use in the originating territory. Often, but not necessarily, these technologies originating elsewhere combine in original ways with local technologies, forming hybrids, which not only combine creole technologies with local technologies, but also themselves become new creole technologies.
We can explore these points further by examining the meanings of the term creole (criollo in Spanish, whence the term comes). The original meaning of creole is local derivatives of something originally from elsewhere, used specifically to describe the locally born white and black populations of the Americas ‒ descendants of European settlers, and African slaves, in contradistinction to the indigenous population. Creole means derived from, but different to, the originating case. Thus the creole horse of the Americas, originating from beasts brought by the Spanish and Portuguese conquistadores, entered a horseless world, yet became different from the horses of the Old World. The term creole also carries the sense of earthy, local, genuine, vulgar, popular, in contrast to the sophistication of the metropolitan. These are the senses in which I use the term here. Yet I also allow into it elements of another sense from which it generally needs to be radically distinguished. In the United States in particular the term has come to be associated with hybridity, that is the mixing of traditions, races, cultures, and this is the sense in which it has found limited use in the history of science.Stuart George McCook, States of Nature: Science, Agriculture, and Environment in the Spanish Caribbean, 1760‒1940. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2002; Peter Galison, Image and Logic: A Material Culture of Microphysics. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1997. It is also used for languages – the languages of languages of the ex-slaves of the colonies, principally in the Caribbean that went from “pidgin” simplified versions of English, French, Portuguese, Spanish etc., to become separate “creoles.” On language, see Ronald Segal, The Black Diaspora. London: Faber, 1995, Chapter 34. The concept of “hybridity” has been in vogue for a while in many fields, now including the study of technology. See Mikael Hård and Andrew Jamison, Hubris and Hybrids: A Cultural History of Technology and Science. London: Routledge, 2005.
This is a reprinted selection from Edgerton, David. “Creole Technologies and Global Histories: Rethinking how Things Travel in Space and Time,” Journal of History of Science and Technology, vol. 1, no. 1 (2007), pp. 3‒31.