Books by Sean F Johnston
McGill-Queen's University Press, 2020
[From the Preface]:
This is the story of an intoxicating idea and its sobering consequences.
The... more [From the Preface]:
This is the story of an intoxicating idea and its sobering consequences.
The twentieth century brought a new cultural confidence in the social powers of invention – along with consumerism, world wars, globalization, and human-generated climate change. This book traces how passive optimism and active promotion were linked to our growing trust in technological innovation. It pursues the evolving idea through engineering hubris, radical utopian movements, science fiction fanzines, policy-maker soundbites, corporate marketing, and consumer culture. It explores how evangelists of technological fixes have proselytized their faith and critically examines the examples and products of their followers.
For many, innovative technologies promised appealing new lifestyles and powers. But for a narrower band of proponents – the first generation of technological fixers – wise engineering invention was touted as a guaranteed route to positive human benefits and societal progress. Socially engaged engineers and designers argued that such improvements could be directed, hastened, and amplified.
These engineering adventurers argued that modern societies could be
guided only by rational designers. They contended that clever technological
solutions could solve contemporary problems better than any traditional
method, including economic initiatives, citizen education, political ideology,
lifestyle changes, legal frameworks, and moral guidance.
Their seductive claims were tamed by more mainstream American enthusiasts and were eventually boiled down to the concept of the “technological fix.” Their shared confidence infused policy-makers, broadcasters, and science popularizers. Trust in technological fixes shaped a new generation of managers and lawmakers, engineers and educators, futurists and citizens – and continues to drive a new generation of techno-fixers today. This cultural wave, its promoters and detractors, have championed the promise and voiced concerns that we have inherited, still unresolved.
This book tracks the hubristic influencers and weighs up the confidences and concerns associated with them: the dramatic potential for novel technologies to work alongside longer human traditions to meet our enduring ambitions – or to reshape society for the worse
Routledge Earthscan, 2017
Environmental Ethics and Behavioural Change takes a practical approach to environmental ethics th... more Environmental Ethics and Behavioural Change takes a practical approach to environmental ethics that focuses on its transformative potential for students, professionals, policy makers, activists, and concerned citizens. Proposed solutions to issues such as climate change, resource depletion and accelerating extinctions have included economic and technological fixes, national and international regulations, social marketing, and the personal integration of green values in lifestyles. This volume examines the ethical features of a range of communication strategies and technological, political and economic methods for promoting ecologically responsible practice in the face of these crises.
The central concern of the book is environmental behavioural change: inspiring, informing and catalysing reflective change in the reader, and in their ability to influence others. By making clear the forms of environmental ethics that exist, and what each implies in terms of individual and social change, the reader will be better able to formulate, commit to, articulate and promote a coherent position on how to understand and engage with environmental issues.
Reflecting the multiple factors affecting our environment, Environmental Ethics and Behavioural Change adopts a multidisciplinary approach that draws from a range of academic specialisms. It provides a clear introduction to the main ethical theories; explains how different constellations of principles that shape the main environmental philosophies and movements have developed over time; and, how these relate to contemporary political philosophical views. Just as importantly, it explores the spectrum of current and proposed methods for addressing environmental sustainability; how they can be applied to contemporary social issues and professional practices; and, how these can be communicated effectively to stakeholders such as businesses, local communities, consumers and government. These techniques range from principles supporting wise technological choices, the psychology of behavioural change, and the politics of individual, group and societal choices.
Ethical theories outlined and discussed include utilitarianism, deontology and neo- Aristotelianism, and the spectrum of green philosophical paradigms include anthropocentric, ecocentric and biocentric value systems, deep ecologies and social ecologies. Examples and case studies are drawn from contemporary issues such as fracking, windfarms, geo-engineering, and transition towns; and the approaches to communication and behaviour change examined include strategies and tactics associated with technological fixes, free markets, ethical consumption, constitutional politics, community-based initiatives, symbolic actions and direct action; and tactics such as social marketing and practice theory.
For each ethical paradigm our analysis involves:
* An exploration of the behaviours that it requires of individuals and organisations.
* An examination of the practical possibilities and barriers associated with communicating its principles, and with communicating the forms of attitude and behaviour change it demands.
* An assessment of the limitations that its principles place on the types of communication and behaviour change strategies and tactics that can be employed, and whether or not they might be seen to be effective.
Yet the book is more than a compendium of techniques: throughout, it stresses the ethical implications of environmental action, explaining why practitioners need to be sensitive to issues of power and inequality, autonomy and collective responsibility, in order to promote workable, resilient and morally defensible revisions of current social practices.
Oxford University Press, 2015
Holograms have been in the public eye for three-quarters of a century, but their influences have ... more Holograms have been in the public eye for three-quarters of a century, but their influences have deeper cultural roots. No other visual experience is quite like interacting with holograms; no other cultural product melds the technological sublime with magic and optimism in quite the same way. As holograms have evolved, they have left their audiences alternately fascinated, bemused, inspired or indifferent. From expressions of high science to countercultural art to consumer security, holograms have represented modernity, magic and materialism. Their most pervasive impact has been to galvanise hopeful technological dreams. Engineers, artists, hippies and hobbyists have played with, and dreamed about, holograms. This book explores how holograms found a place in distinct cultural settings. It is aimed at readers attracted to pop culture, visual studies and cultural history, scholars concerned with media history, fine art and material studies and, most of all, cross-disciplinary audiences intrigued about how this ubiquitous but still-mysterious visual medium grew up in our midst and became entangled in our culture. This book explores the technical attractions and cultural uses of the hologram, how they were shaped by what came before them, and how they have matured to shape our notional futures. Today, holograms are in our pockets (as identity documents) and in our minds (as gaming fantasies and faux hologram performers). Why aren't they more often in front of our eyes?
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PREFACE
Holograms reached popular consciousness during the 1960s and, over the following decades, evolved along with culture itself. No other visual experience is quite like interacting with holograms; no other cultural product melds the technological sublime with magic and optimism in quite the same way.
Why has its combination of attributes been perennially exhilarating and wondrous? Although the hologram was a product of its times, it was also wrapped in long established cultural threads. Its impacts were conditioned by its antecedents and associations. This protective heritage helped make it impervious to technical disappointments, while ongoing innovation periodically revitalized its spectacular qualities.
This book traces the cultural roots of holograms to explore their influences and effects, assess their counteracting attractions and explain their persistence. It complements and extends my earlier book for Oxford University Press, Holographic Visions: A History of New Science. That volume provided an in-depth account of the creators and concepts behind the subject of holography as a scientific concept, an engineering tool and a business, and was based on extensive archival research and interviews with the originators of the field. Addressing historians of science and technology, holographers and sociologists of expertise, it recounted the trials of creating a new science, a new industry and a new profession from this remarkable concept.
The present book shifts the focus outwards. I turn from the creators of holography to the consumers of holograms in distinct cultural settings. This complementary emphasis enrols fresh audiences, too: readers attracted to visual and cultural studies, scholars concerned with media history, fine art and material studies and, most of all, cross-disciplinary audiences intrigued about how this ubiquitous but still-mysterious visual medium grew up in our midst and became entangled in our culture.
Oxford University Press, 2012
The first nuclear engineers emerged from the Manhattan Project in the USA, UK and Canada, but rem... more The first nuclear engineers emerged from the Manhattan Project in the USA, UK and Canada, but remained hidden behind security for a further decade. Cosseted and cloistered by their governments, they worked to explore applications of atomic energy at a handful of national labs. This unique bottom-up history traces how the identities of these unusually voiceless experts - forming a uniquely state-managed discipline - were shaped in the context of pre-war nuclear physics, wartime industrial management, post-war politics and utopian energy programmes. Even after their eventual emergence at universities and companies, nuclear workers carried the enduring legacy of their origins. Their shared experiences shaped not only their identities, but our collective memories of the late twentieth century. And as illustrated by the Fukushima accident seven decades after the Manhattan project began, this book explains why they are still seen conflictingly as selfless heroes or as mistrusted guardians of a malevolent genie.
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PREFACE
During the mid-twentieth century, new technical specialists responsible for atomic energy materialized seemingly from nowhere. Their origins can be traced to the discovery of the neutron and the cascade of concepts and applications triggered by it. First defined by the project to develop an atomic bomb, nuclear experts were further shaped by their post-war explorations of nuclear engineering and eventually emerged to public view with the promise of electrical power generation.
But these children of the neutron grew unseen during their early years, nurtured by bountiful government funding and segregated by the concerns of the Cold War. Their isolation shaped them. In technical cloisters in the USA, Britain, and Canada, the scientists, engineers, and skilled workers who had first collaborated during the war grew into divergent nuclear breeds. Their skills and working cultures owed much to their distinct political, cultural, and occupational contexts, and their experiences provided templates for countries that had not had their head start. The result was a remarkable discipline distinguished by national experiences and goals but shaped enduringly by state intervention. Those origins have influenced public perceptions of these half-hidden specialists over the intervening decades.
For some subjects, the transition between non-existence and universal recognition is relatively clear-cut and uncontentious. They can be commemorated by anniversary banquets and founding fathers. But such history can equally become ossified, imprisoned in unanimity and overlooking the features of their professional identities that were once contentious. But nuclear engineering was, and is, different. Like nearly all technical expertise, there was a time at which it did not exist at all. Yet while this discipline gained a foothold in some institutional domains—being recognized at some technical sites, taught at some universities, and accorded status by some other professional groups—its attributes, products, and experts were disputed in others.
This book explores the gestation, incubation, and emergence of the new nuclear experts, and how they established unstable public identities in three countries. The story focuses on how their special knowledge was recognized, challenged, categorized, and spread. The building of nuclear expertise—of concern to professionals, politicians, and public alike—has been a decisive factor in the practice and popular understandings of late twentieth century science, industry, and culture.
Shaped by governments and special working environments from the Manhattan Project to Fukushima, this interstitial subject and its specialists have followed a tortuous trajectory over three generations. Still unsettled and challenged, their experiences and border disputes reveal the cultural factors that shape knowledge into particular packages.
Simon & Schuster / OneWorld (Oxford), 2009
Weaving together intellectual history, philosophy, and social studies, Sean Johnston offers a uni... more Weaving together intellectual history, philosophy, and social studies, Sean Johnston offers a unique appraisal of the history of science and the nature of this evolving discipline. Science is all-encompassing and new developments are usually mired in controversy; nevertheless, it is a driving force of the modern world. Based on its past, where might it lead us in the twenty-first century?
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Published as an audio book by Bolinda Publishing (2012) ASIN B007R6PXMK ISBN 978-1743104934.
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Published in Chinese edition (2020) as (人人都該懂的科學簡史 (A Brief History of Science That Everyone Should Know) ISBN 978-7-57220-853-9.
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Oxford University Press, 2006
Holography exploded on the scientific world in 1964, but its slow fuse had been burning much long... more Holography exploded on the scientific world in 1964, but its slow fuse had been burning much longer. Over the next four decades, the echoes of that explosion reached scientists, engineers, artists and popular culture. Emerging from classified military research, holography evolved to represent the power of post-war physics, an aesthetic union of art and science, the countercultural meanderings of holism, a cottage industry for waves of would-be entrepreneurs and a fertile plot device for science fiction. New working cultures sprang up to mutate holography, redefining its products, reshaping its audiences and reconceiving its applications. The outcomes included ever more sublime holograms and exquisitely sensitive measuring techniques - but also priority disputes, prurience and poisonous business rivalries. New subjects cross intellectual borders, and so do their explanations. This book draws on the history and philosophy of science and technology, social studies, politics and cultural history to trace the trajectory of holography. The result is an in-depth account of how new science emerges. Based on unprecedented interviews with pioneer holographers and extensive archival research, it reveals how science, technology, art and wider culture are entwined in the modern world.
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PREFACE
Holography hit the world with a bang in 1964. This book tracks that explosion, from the near-silent burning of the slow fuse that lit it to the repercussions and fading embers that followed. The history of holography can be visualized as a sublime fireworks show in which there have been impressive bursts intermingled with unexpected fizzles and more than a few duds.
Yet holography has simultaneously been an iceberg-like subject, hidden and mysterious. Much of its early activity gestated in laboratories engaged in classified research, both in America and the Soviet Union; much, too, in guarded processing techniques and the secretive business practices of its major application, anti-counterfeiting; and, more recently, in Asia, where differences in language and business culture limited information flow to rumour or scientific meetings. And some aspects, such as holographic erotica, remain ever obscure. Politics, culture, commercial secrecy, and even propriety have concealed the subject, making it peculiarly vulnerable to myths and misunderstandings.
Both metaphors—of fireworks and icebergs—are inadequate, and capture only restricted perspectives of the subject. Over its first sixty years, holography has run hot and cold, a subject rich in episodes of parallel discovery, priority disputes, intellectual accomplishment, suspicion, local victories, and lost opportunities.
Why attempt a history of what some still see as an immature subject? One reason is because notions of maturity carry questionable assumptions. Holography is a young science that illustrates how new subjects come to be. It provides answers to questions such as, How does a scientific subject materialize? How does its content stabilize? How do those who practice it come to recognize themselves as a distinct group? And how do its definitions and products depend on their environments?
This is a study of how new science develops. Holography is an unusual and important example of post-war science constructed from divergent visions. It grew beyond its founding communities to generate conflicting interpretations of success. This visionary subject exemplifies how science, technology and wider culture are woven inextricably in the modern world.
There is a rich thread of information to unravel, and the project is timely. As a subject that has not enjoyed uncontentious success, archives of holography are few and historical information is ephemeral. And most of the early practitioners—known as holographers since about 1966—were attracted to the field early in their careers. Many are still alive, with memories, documents, and holograms. As an African writer has said of his continent’s oral history, ‘quand un vieillard meurt, c’est une bibliothèque qui brûle’ (when an old person dies, a library burns). The same can be said of entire technical communities.
This project has sought to capture the spirit, diversity and insights of some of those libraries. And yet this book inevitably chases shadows. I focus on the subject and its creators as much as on their remarkable products. What any text, film, or computer representation of the subject cannot do adequately is demonstrate the visual wonder of viewing a good hologram. Like the enjoyment of a stage play, concert, or surprising magic trick, the appreciation of a hologram is a product of its time, context, and audience. It is both a permanent product and a fleeting perceptual experience. The few illustrations of holograms in this book are therefore intended as mere hints—unsatisfactory evocations—of that intense visual experience.
Holograms represent the culmination of optical physics. The creation of those unsettling images is inherently a private activity hidden in dark, equipment-filled rooms but, in recent years, also a high-volume product manufactured increasingly by assembly-line processes. This juxtaposition of the private and the public, the dimly perceived and the brightly-lit, the painstakingly created and cheaply produced, is an important feature of this modern technology.
The communities and individuals that created holography—producing holograms, developing markets and becoming its consumers—each occupied separate spaces, invoked different understandings, and attached different meanings to their subject. For that reason, readers, too, may find themselves attracted to particular parts of that history.
The four sections of the book explore complementary aspects of creation. Their overall aim is to explain the emergence and evolution of the ideas, products, communities, and markets that collectively defined the new field of holography.
Taylor & Francis / Institute of Physics, 2001
2003 Paul Bunge Prize of the Hans R. Jenemann Foundation for the History of Scientific Instrument... more 2003 Paul Bunge Prize of the Hans R. Jenemann Foundation for the History of Scientific Instruments
Judging the brightness and color of light has long been contentious. Alternately described as impossible and routine, it was beset by problems both technical and social. How trustworthy could such measurements be? Was the best standard of intensity a gas lamp, an incandescent bulb, or a glowing pool of molten metal? And how much did the answers depend on the background of the specialist?
A History of Light and Colour Measurement: Science in the Shadows is a history of the hidden workings of physical science-a technical endeavour embedded in a social context. It argues that this "undisciplined" subject, straddling academia, commerce, and regulation, may be typical not only of 20th century science, but of its future.
Attracting scientists, engineers, industrialists, and artists, the developing subject produced a new breed of practitioners having mixed provenance. The new measurers of light had to decide the shape not only of their specialism but of their careers: were they to be a part of physics, engineering, or psychology? The physical scientists who dominated the subject into the early 20th century made their central aim the replacement of the problematic human eye with physical detectors of light. For psychologists between the wars, though, describing the complexity of color was more important than quantifying a handful of its dimensions. And after WWII, military designers shaped the subject of radiometry and subsumed photometry and colorimetry within it. Never attaining a professional cachet, these various specialists moved fluidly between science and technology; through government, industry, and administration.
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PREFACE
This book is about how light was made to count. It explores a seemingly simple question: How was the brightness of light—casually judged by everyone but seldom considered a part of science before the 20th century—transformed into a measurable and trustworthy quantity? Why did the description of colour become meaningful to artists, dyers, industrialists and a handful of scientists? Seeking answers requires the exploration of territory in the history, sociology and philosophy of science. Light was made to count as a quantifiable entity at the same time as it came to count for something in human terms. Measuring the intensity of light was fraught with difficulties closely bound up with human physiology, contentious technologies and scientific sub-cultures.
Explorations often begin with meanderings, tentative forays and more prolonged expeditions. This one ranges over a period of 250 years, and pursues social interactions at every scale. As the title hints, the subject was long on the periphery of recognized science. The illustrations in the book reinforce the reality of social marginalization, too: depictions of light-measurers are rare. Certainly their shrouded and blackened apparatus made photography awkward; but the reliance on human observers to make scientific measurements came to be an embarrassment to practitioners. The practitioners remain shadowy, too, because of the low status of their occupation, commercial reticence and—somewhat later—military secrecy. The measurement of brightness came to be invested with several purposes. It gained sporadic attention through the 18th century. Adopted alternately by astronomers and for the utilitarian needs of the gas lighting industry from the second half of the 19th century, it was appropriated by the nascent electric lighting industry to ‘prove’ the superiority of their technology. By the turn of the century the illuminating engineering movement was becoming an organized, if eclectic, community promoting research into the measurement of light intensity.
The early 20th century development of the subject was moulded by organization and institutionalization. During its first two decades, new national and industrial laboratories in Britain, America and Germany were crucial in stabilizing practices and raising confidence in them. Through the inter-war period, committees and international commissions sought to standardize light and colour measurement and to promote research. Such government- and industry-supported delegations, rather than academic institutions, were primarily responsible for the construction of the subject.
Along with this social organization came a new cognitive framework: practitioners increasingly came to interpret the three topics of photometry (visible light measurement), colorimetry (the measurement of colour) and radiometry (the measurement of invisible radiations) as aspects of a broader study. This recategorization brought shifts of authority: shifts of the dominant social group determining the direction of the subject’s evolution, and a shift of confidence away from the central element of detection, the eye. From the 1920s, the highly refined visual methods of observation were hurriedly replaced by physical means of light measurement, a process initially a matter of scientific fashion rather than demonstrated superiority. These non-human instruments embodied the new locus of light and colour, and the data they produced stabilized the definitions further.
The rise of automated, mechanized measurement of light and colour introduced new communities to the subject. New photoelectric techniques for measuring light intensity engendered new commercial instruments, a trend that accelerated in the 1930s when photometry was taken up with mixed success for a wide range of industrial problems. Seeds sown in those years—namely commercialization and industrial application, the transition from visual to physical methods and the search for fundamental limitations in light measurement—gave the subject the form it was to retain over the next half-century.
Nevertheless, changing usage mutated the subject. Light proved to be a valuable quantity for military purposes during and after the Second World War. A wholly new body of specialists—military contractors—transformed its measurement, creating new theory, new technology, new standards and new units of measurement.
Following this variety of players through their unfamiliar environments illuminates the often hidden territories of scientific change. And two themes run throughout this account of the measurement of light and colour from its first hesitant emergence to its gradual construction as a scientific subject. The first traces changing attitudes concerning quantification. The mathematization of light was a contentious process that hinged on finding an acceptable relationship between the mutable response of the human eye and the more readily stabilized, but less encompassing, techniques of physical measurement. The diffident acceptance of new techniques by different technical communities illuminates their value systems, interactions and socio-technical evolution.
A second theme is the exploration of light measurement as a science peripheral to the concerns of many contemporary scientists and the historians who later studied them, and yet arguably typical of the scientific enterprise. The lack of attention attracted by this marginal subject belies its wide influence throughout 20th century science and technology. Light measurement straddled the developing categories of ‘academic science’ and mere ‘invention’, and was influenced by such distinct elements as utilitarian requirements, technological innovation, human perception and networks of bureaucratization. Unlike more conventionally recognized ‘successful’ fields, the measurement of light did not evolve into an academic discipline or technical profession, although it did attract career specialists as guardians of a developing body of knowledge. By studying the range of interactions that shaped this seemingly diffuse subject, this book seeks to suggest the commonality of its evolutionary features with other subjects underpinning modern science. This richly connected region, belatedly gaining attention from historians and sociologists of science, has too long been in the shadows.
Kluwer Academic Press, 2000
Chemical engineering - as a recognised skill in the workplace, as an academic discipline, and as ... more Chemical engineering - as a recognised skill in the workplace, as an academic discipline, and as an acknowledged profession - is scarcely a century old. Yet from a contested existence before the First World War, chemical engineering had become one of the 'big four' engineering professions in Britain, and a major contributor to Western economies, by the end of the twentieth century. The subject had distinct national trajectories. In Britain - too long seen as shaped by American experiences - the emergence of recognised chemical engineers was the result of professional aspirations and contingency, and shaped by a shifting ecology of institutions, firms and government. Drawing upon extensive archival research, this book examines the evolution of technical practice, working environment and social interactions of chemical engineering. It will be of considerable interest to historians, sociologists of the professions, and to practitioners themselves.
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PREFACE
The representation of chemical engineering as a skilled specialism, an academic subject and an acknowledged profession is scarcely a century old. Its multiple identities followed different national trajectories. In Britain – shaped by institutions, firms and governments – the emergence of recognised chemical engineers was the unique result of professional aspirations and contingency.
This book is not framed as an inward-looking or congratulatory institutional history. Nor does it attempt to catalogue the minutiae of every accomplishment, individual or committee ever associated with the Institution of Chemical Engineers. We have, instead, tried to paint with some precision the evolution of an important specialism against a rich backdrop of technical, economic and political events, and from an historical and sociological perspective. Neither a festschrift nor an exposé, our study charts the difficult and complex emergence, stabilisation and maintenance of an occupational identity. Not only a careful and systematic answer to the question ‘What happened?’ but also ‘Why did events turn out as they did, and not otherwise?’ and ‘What can this tell us?’. This approach highlights the importance of scale, so central to the practice of chemical engineering: how a series of seemingly mundane decisions and singular episodes combined with long-term professional goals and enduring historical changes to create a peculiarly national variety of technical expert. But while avoiding both sentimentality and skepticism, it documents the remarkable rise of the profession due in no small part to the energetic actions of the Institution of Chemical Engineers.
The ‘chemical engineer’ was a type constructed both co-operatively and by conflict between interest groups. The product of a particular time and place, he (and more recently, she) was moulded by a changing social and technical environment. The collection of attributes that characterise this species of specialist has evolved over a century, and continues to evolve today. For this reason, professional identity is an important theme of this book. First used with some regularity as a description in 1880s Britain, the label ‘chemical engineer’ became variously defined: as an ‘engineer of industrial efficiency’ by the government after the first world war, as an affordable hybrid ‘jack of all trades’ by small chemical firms, as a non-existent or undesirable entity by large firms preferring teams of chemists and mechanical engineers or, after the second world war, as a theory-based scientific professional (indeed, the most ‘scientific’ of engineers) by academics. Chemical engineers present a particularly interesting problem for the historian because – unlike electrical engineering, for example, where one can speak of communities of telegraphists or radio engineers – the notion of a chemical engineering ‘community’ is punctured by the pervasive secrecy that operated in the chemical industry, which organised workers along the lines of industries (e.g. alkali production) and, even more insistently, by the cloaking traditions of firms.
Chemical engineers, and the specialism that they created, had an ephemeral identity for decades. From the transitory ghost of an idea shaped by a conjunction of interests, chemical engineering evolved into a concept buoyed up by growing consensus to compete with prevailing industrial cultures. It took on an identity in Britain quite different from that in America and Western Europe. Because of this fractured and mutating representation, we cannot trace backwards our present or historical notions of chemical engineering before the late nineteenth century, any more than we can validly seek the origins of Art Deco in ancient Egypt. Something akin to the tasks taken on by chemical engineers arguably existed before the late nineteenth century, but chemical engineers most assuredly did not. Consequently, the book is organised chronologically to span twelve decades, although some chapters focus on specific aspects of this history.
The purpose of this book is thus to provide a critical history and analysis of an idea and its consequences: the evolution to the end of the twentieth century of an identity associated with the occupation, discipline and especially the profession of chemical engineering in Britain, and the crucial role of the Institution of Chemical Engineers in that development.
The evolution of the profession is a topic unjustly neglected by historians and sociologists. Until fairly recently, most historical studies of chemical engineering have been written by former practitioners. The majority of these, in common with the few studies by professional historians, have focused on the emergence of the profession in the United States of America, where the subject had its most unproblematic success. Such works understandably have tended to assume that the development of the intellectual foundations of the discipline in Britain was strongly influenced by American experiences. By contrast, the present study highlights the national differences in the cognitive content and scope of the subject.
The history of this engineering specialism reveals a wealth of insights concerning the rise of the technical professions in Britain, their relevance in an industrialised economy and polity, the role of the universities in the emergence of academic disciplines, and changing definitions of the relationship between science and technology. We therefore hope that it will be of interest to practising chemical engineers, historians, sociologists, and the science studies community.
Chichester: Springer (Ellis Horwood), 1991
This study describes the development of the technique of Fourier transform infrared technology (F... more This study describes the development of the technique of Fourier transform infrared technology (FTIR). Origins in Fourier analysis, Albert Michelson's interference spectroscopy, and mid-20th century physical optics, far infrared physics and astronomy are explored, as well as the late-20th century exploitation by analytical chemists.
University of Glasgow Crichton Publications , 2005
When the University of Glasgow’s new 'Crichton College' opened its doors in September 1999, its s... more When the University of Glasgow’s new 'Crichton College' opened its doors in September 1999, its small staff had that rare opportunity in an academic’s career to launch a new curriculum based on clearly enunciated ideals. In the following six years under the direction of Professor Rex C. Taylor, those ideals remained firm even as numbers grew and external circumstances mutated. The theme of this book concerns the ideas, activities and problems – intellectual, curricular and administrative – that shaped the University of Glasgow Crichton Campus during its first six years. Its dozen contributors provide varied perspectives on the problems of creation.
Papers (history of science and technology) by Sean F Johnston
Holograms: A Cultural History, 2015
Chap. 2 of Sean F. Johnston, Holograms: A Cultural History (Oxford, OUP, 2015)
Nuclear Ethnographies, 2026
Communities of nuclear workers have evolved in distinctive contexts. During the Manhattan Project... more Communities of nuclear workers have evolved in distinctive contexts. During the Manhattan Project the UK, USA and Canada collectively developed the first reactors, isotope separation plants and atomic bombs and, in the process, nurtured distinct cadres of specialist workers. Their later workplaces were often inherited from wartime facilities, or built anew at isolated locations. For a decade, nuclear specialists were segregated and cossetted to gestate practical expertise. At Oak Ridge Tennessee, for example, the informal ‘Clinch College of Nuclear Knowledge’ aimed to industrialise the use of radioactive materials. ‘We were like children in a toy factory’, said its Director: ‘everyone could play the game of designing new nuclear power piles’. His counterpart at Chalk River, Ontario headed a project ‘completely Canadian in every respect’, while the head of the British project chose the remote Dounreay site in northern Scotland because of design uncertainties in the experimental breeder reactor. With the decline of secrecy during the mid-1950s, the hidden specialists lauded as ‘atomic scientists’ gradually became visible as new breeds of engineers, technologists and technicians responsible for nuclear reactors and power plants. Mutated by their different political contexts, occupational categories, labour affiliations, professional representations and popular depictions, their activities were disputed by distinct audiences. This chapter examines the changing identities of nuclear specialists and the significance of their secure sites. Shaped successively by Cold War secrecy, commercial competition and terrorist threats, nuclear energy remained out of site for wider publics and most nuclear specialists alike. The distinctive episodes reveal the changing working experiences of technical workers in late-twentieth and early twenty-first century environments.
Science in the Shadows: A History of Light and Colour Measurement, Chap 9, 2001
The measurement of light and colour has always been a peripheral science. Light became a 'discipl... more The measurement of light and colour has always been a peripheral science. Light became a 'disciplined' quantity over the period of a century, but the specialist communities that measured it did not. The quantification of visible light (photometry), colour (colorimetry), and radiant intensity (radiometry) involved distinct communities of physicists, psychologists, technicians and engineers. This chapter of _Science in the Shadows_ examines how the measurement of non-visible light became the domain of post Second World War military engineers and classified development programmes.
Techno-Fixers: Origins and Implications of Technological Faith, chap. 8, 2020
This concluding chapter of _Techno-Fixers: Origins and Implications of Technological Faith_ exami... more This concluding chapter of _Techno-Fixers: Origins and Implications of Technological Faith_ examines the widespread overconfidence in present-day and proposed 'technological fixes', and provides guidelines - social, ethical, environmental and technical - for soberly assessing candidate technological solutions for societal problems.
History of Science: A Beginner's Guide (Simon & Schuster/OneWorld [Oxford]), 2009
This chapter (of an undergraduate text for interdisciplinary curricula) explores how science and ... more This chapter (of an undergraduate text for interdisciplinary curricula) explores how science and technology studies (STS) have evolved over the past generation. It surveys the contrasting perspectives of philosophers, sociologists, scholars of the humanities, wider publics, and scientists themselves. It describes contrasting views about the practice of, and purposes for, studying the history of science.
ISBN 978-1-85168-681-0
Workshop on postwar American high tech industry, Chemical Heritage Foundation, Jun 21, 2007
This chapter deals with a subset of the American instrument industry, namely the measuring and mo... more This chapter deals with a subset of the American instrument industry, namely the measuring and monitoring instruments manufactured for scientific use. Even with the specification of ‘scientific’ instruments, however, these borders are rather artificial and unclear: instrument making from the seventeenth through the twentieth century has generally involved the fabrication of both standard products and custom-made devices for scientific use. In this context of sales quantities, ‘scientific’ instruments have often been defined as low-volume, special-order or custom devices. In a similar vein, ‘scientific’ instruments were commonly distinguished from ‘production’ instruments by context of usage, namely their very absence from – and indeed irrelevance to – production environments. This demarcation according to customer and environment was mirrored in at least one further respect: the training of their users. The classification into ‘scientific’ and ‘engineering’ applications was as fluid as the relationship between American universities and technical industries themselves. Despite these complementary definitions, the notion of the ‘scientific instrument’ was beginning to prove inadequate even at the turn of the twentieth century, and dramatically so when discussing the post-Second World War period.
Definitions altered qualitatively after the Second World War in at least three further ways: (a) new genres of device altered the scope of the scientific instrument; (b) the contribution of State and military sponsorship of new forms of instrument became significant; and, (c) the postwar demand for specialist instruments increased rapidly, owing to wartime innovation, new applications and new customers. I will explore the evolution of instrument manufacturing in this changing context of new technology, funding, development and markets.
Technology and Culture, Jul 2018
The term “technological fix”, coined by technologist/administrator Alvin Weinberg in 1965, vaunte... more The term “technological fix”, coined by technologist/administrator Alvin Weinberg in 1965, vaunted engineering innovation as a generic tool for circumventing problems commonly conceived as social, political or cultural. A longtime Director of Oak Ridge National Laboratory, government consultant and essayist, Weinberg also popularized the term “Big Science” to describe national goals and the competitive funding environment after the Second World War. Big Science reoriented towards Technological Fixes, he argued, could provide a new “Apollo project” to address social problems of the future. His ideas – most recently echoed in “solutionism” – have channeled confidence and controversy ever since. This paper traces the genesis and promotion of the concept by Weinberg and his contemporaries. It argues that, through it, the marginal politics and technological confidences of interwar scientists and technocrats were repositioned as mainstream notions closer to the heart of Big Science policy.
Annals of Science, 2018
SUMMARY This paper traces how media representations encouraged enthusiasts, youth, and skilled vo... more SUMMARY This paper traces how media representations encouraged enthusiasts, youth, and skilled volunteers to participate actively in science and technology during the twentieth century. It assesses how distinctive discourses about scientific amateurs positioned them with respect to professionals in shifting political and cultural environments. In particular, the account assesses the seminal role of a periodical, Scientific American magazine, in shaping and championing an enduring vision of autonomous scientific enthusiasms. Between the 1920s and 1970s, editors Albert G. Ingalls and Clair L. Stong shepherded generations of adult 'amateur scientists'. Their columns and books popularized a vision of independent non-professional research that celebrated the frugal ingenuity and skills of inveterate tinkerers. Some of these attributes have found more recent expression in present-day 'maker culture'. The topic consequently is relevant to the historiography of scientific practice, science popularization and science education. Its focus on independent non-professionals highlights political dimensions of agency and autonomy that have often been implicit for such historical (and contemporary) actors. The paper argues that the Scientific American template of adult scientific amateurism contrasted with other representations: those promoted by earlier periodicals and by a science education organization, Science Service, and by the national demands for recruiting scientific labour during and after the Second World War. The evidence indicates that advocates of the alternative models had distinctive goals and adapted their narrative tactics to reach their intended audiences, which typically were conceived as young persons requiring instruction or mentoring. By contrast, the monthly Scientific American columns established a long-lived and stable image of the independent lay scientist.
Journal of Information Ethics, May 2017
This paper discusses the implications for public participation in science opened by the sharing o... more This paper discusses the implications for public participation in science opened by the sharing of information via electronic media. The ethical dimensions of information flow and control are linked to questions of autonomy, authority and appropriate exploitation of knowledge. It argues that, by lowering the boundaries that limit access and participation by wider active audiences, both scientific identity and practice are challenged in favor of extra-disciplinary and avocational communities such as scientific enthusiasts and lay experts. Reconfigurations of hierarchy, mediated by new channels of information flow, are increasingly visible at the interface between professional and non-professional practice. Setting the scene by surveying the role of the media in defining twentieth-century contexts of lay science, the paper illustrates the appropriation and recuperation of scientific authority being played out in two contemporary models of active public engagement: so-called “citizen science” and varieties of “crowd-sourced science”. Both participatory models are increasingly reliant on information exchange via social media, but may be implemented to support distinctly different societal goals and beneficiaries.
IEEE Technology and Society, 2018
On the historical origins of technological fixes and their wider social and political implications.
Uploads
Books by Sean F Johnston
This is the story of an intoxicating idea and its sobering consequences.
The twentieth century brought a new cultural confidence in the social powers of invention – along with consumerism, world wars, globalization, and human-generated climate change. This book traces how passive optimism and active promotion were linked to our growing trust in technological innovation. It pursues the evolving idea through engineering hubris, radical utopian movements, science fiction fanzines, policy-maker soundbites, corporate marketing, and consumer culture. It explores how evangelists of technological fixes have proselytized their faith and critically examines the examples and products of their followers.
For many, innovative technologies promised appealing new lifestyles and powers. But for a narrower band of proponents – the first generation of technological fixers – wise engineering invention was touted as a guaranteed route to positive human benefits and societal progress. Socially engaged engineers and designers argued that such improvements could be directed, hastened, and amplified.
These engineering adventurers argued that modern societies could be
guided only by rational designers. They contended that clever technological
solutions could solve contemporary problems better than any traditional
method, including economic initiatives, citizen education, political ideology,
lifestyle changes, legal frameworks, and moral guidance.
Their seductive claims were tamed by more mainstream American enthusiasts and were eventually boiled down to the concept of the “technological fix.” Their shared confidence infused policy-makers, broadcasters, and science popularizers. Trust in technological fixes shaped a new generation of managers and lawmakers, engineers and educators, futurists and citizens – and continues to drive a new generation of techno-fixers today. This cultural wave, its promoters and detractors, have championed the promise and voiced concerns that we have inherited, still unresolved.
This book tracks the hubristic influencers and weighs up the confidences and concerns associated with them: the dramatic potential for novel technologies to work alongside longer human traditions to meet our enduring ambitions – or to reshape society for the worse
The central concern of the book is environmental behavioural change: inspiring, informing and catalysing reflective change in the reader, and in their ability to influence others. By making clear the forms of environmental ethics that exist, and what each implies in terms of individual and social change, the reader will be better able to formulate, commit to, articulate and promote a coherent position on how to understand and engage with environmental issues.
Reflecting the multiple factors affecting our environment, Environmental Ethics and Behavioural Change adopts a multidisciplinary approach that draws from a range of academic specialisms. It provides a clear introduction to the main ethical theories; explains how different constellations of principles that shape the main environmental philosophies and movements have developed over time; and, how these relate to contemporary political philosophical views. Just as importantly, it explores the spectrum of current and proposed methods for addressing environmental sustainability; how they can be applied to contemporary social issues and professional practices; and, how these can be communicated effectively to stakeholders such as businesses, local communities, consumers and government. These techniques range from principles supporting wise technological choices, the psychology of behavioural change, and the politics of individual, group and societal choices.
Ethical theories outlined and discussed include utilitarianism, deontology and neo- Aristotelianism, and the spectrum of green philosophical paradigms include anthropocentric, ecocentric and biocentric value systems, deep ecologies and social ecologies. Examples and case studies are drawn from contemporary issues such as fracking, windfarms, geo-engineering, and transition towns; and the approaches to communication and behaviour change examined include strategies and tactics associated with technological fixes, free markets, ethical consumption, constitutional politics, community-based initiatives, symbolic actions and direct action; and tactics such as social marketing and practice theory.
For each ethical paradigm our analysis involves:
* An exploration of the behaviours that it requires of individuals and organisations.
* An examination of the practical possibilities and barriers associated with communicating its principles, and with communicating the forms of attitude and behaviour change it demands.
* An assessment of the limitations that its principles place on the types of communication and behaviour change strategies and tactics that can be employed, and whether or not they might be seen to be effective.
Yet the book is more than a compendium of techniques: throughout, it stresses the ethical implications of environmental action, explaining why practitioners need to be sensitive to issues of power and inequality, autonomy and collective responsibility, in order to promote workable, resilient and morally defensible revisions of current social practices.
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PREFACE
Holograms reached popular consciousness during the 1960s and, over the following decades, evolved along with culture itself. No other visual experience is quite like interacting with holograms; no other cultural product melds the technological sublime with magic and optimism in quite the same way.
Why has its combination of attributes been perennially exhilarating and wondrous? Although the hologram was a product of its times, it was also wrapped in long established cultural threads. Its impacts were conditioned by its antecedents and associations. This protective heritage helped make it impervious to technical disappointments, while ongoing innovation periodically revitalized its spectacular qualities.
This book traces the cultural roots of holograms to explore their influences and effects, assess their counteracting attractions and explain their persistence. It complements and extends my earlier book for Oxford University Press, Holographic Visions: A History of New Science. That volume provided an in-depth account of the creators and concepts behind the subject of holography as a scientific concept, an engineering tool and a business, and was based on extensive archival research and interviews with the originators of the field. Addressing historians of science and technology, holographers and sociologists of expertise, it recounted the trials of creating a new science, a new industry and a new profession from this remarkable concept.
The present book shifts the focus outwards. I turn from the creators of holography to the consumers of holograms in distinct cultural settings. This complementary emphasis enrols fresh audiences, too: readers attracted to visual and cultural studies, scholars concerned with media history, fine art and material studies and, most of all, cross-disciplinary audiences intrigued about how this ubiquitous but still-mysterious visual medium grew up in our midst and became entangled in our culture.
----------------------------
PREFACE
During the mid-twentieth century, new technical specialists responsible for atomic energy materialized seemingly from nowhere. Their origins can be traced to the discovery of the neutron and the cascade of concepts and applications triggered by it. First defined by the project to develop an atomic bomb, nuclear experts were further shaped by their post-war explorations of nuclear engineering and eventually emerged to public view with the promise of electrical power generation.
But these children of the neutron grew unseen during their early years, nurtured by bountiful government funding and segregated by the concerns of the Cold War. Their isolation shaped them. In technical cloisters in the USA, Britain, and Canada, the scientists, engineers, and skilled workers who had first collaborated during the war grew into divergent nuclear breeds. Their skills and working cultures owed much to their distinct political, cultural, and occupational contexts, and their experiences provided templates for countries that had not had their head start. The result was a remarkable discipline distinguished by national experiences and goals but shaped enduringly by state intervention. Those origins have influenced public perceptions of these half-hidden specialists over the intervening decades.
For some subjects, the transition between non-existence and universal recognition is relatively clear-cut and uncontentious. They can be commemorated by anniversary banquets and founding fathers. But such history can equally become ossified, imprisoned in unanimity and overlooking the features of their professional identities that were once contentious. But nuclear engineering was, and is, different. Like nearly all technical expertise, there was a time at which it did not exist at all. Yet while this discipline gained a foothold in some institutional domains—being recognized at some technical sites, taught at some universities, and accorded status by some other professional groups—its attributes, products, and experts were disputed in others.
This book explores the gestation, incubation, and emergence of the new nuclear experts, and how they established unstable public identities in three countries. The story focuses on how their special knowledge was recognized, challenged, categorized, and spread. The building of nuclear expertise—of concern to professionals, politicians, and public alike—has been a decisive factor in the practice and popular understandings of late twentieth century science, industry, and culture.
Shaped by governments and special working environments from the Manhattan Project to Fukushima, this interstitial subject and its specialists have followed a tortuous trajectory over three generations. Still unsettled and challenged, their experiences and border disputes reveal the cultural factors that shape knowledge into particular packages.
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Published as an audio book by Bolinda Publishing (2012) ASIN B007R6PXMK ISBN 978-1743104934.
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Published in Chinese edition (2020) as (人人都該懂的科學簡史 (A Brief History of Science That Everyone Should Know) ISBN 978-7-57220-853-9.
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PREFACE
Holography hit the world with a bang in 1964. This book tracks that explosion, from the near-silent burning of the slow fuse that lit it to the repercussions and fading embers that followed. The history of holography can be visualized as a sublime fireworks show in which there have been impressive bursts intermingled with unexpected fizzles and more than a few duds.
Yet holography has simultaneously been an iceberg-like subject, hidden and mysterious. Much of its early activity gestated in laboratories engaged in classified research, both in America and the Soviet Union; much, too, in guarded processing techniques and the secretive business practices of its major application, anti-counterfeiting; and, more recently, in Asia, where differences in language and business culture limited information flow to rumour or scientific meetings. And some aspects, such as holographic erotica, remain ever obscure. Politics, culture, commercial secrecy, and even propriety have concealed the subject, making it peculiarly vulnerable to myths and misunderstandings.
Both metaphors—of fireworks and icebergs—are inadequate, and capture only restricted perspectives of the subject. Over its first sixty years, holography has run hot and cold, a subject rich in episodes of parallel discovery, priority disputes, intellectual accomplishment, suspicion, local victories, and lost opportunities.
Why attempt a history of what some still see as an immature subject? One reason is because notions of maturity carry questionable assumptions. Holography is a young science that illustrates how new subjects come to be. It provides answers to questions such as, How does a scientific subject materialize? How does its content stabilize? How do those who practice it come to recognize themselves as a distinct group? And how do its definitions and products depend on their environments?
This is a study of how new science develops. Holography is an unusual and important example of post-war science constructed from divergent visions. It grew beyond its founding communities to generate conflicting interpretations of success. This visionary subject exemplifies how science, technology and wider culture are woven inextricably in the modern world.
There is a rich thread of information to unravel, and the project is timely. As a subject that has not enjoyed uncontentious success, archives of holography are few and historical information is ephemeral. And most of the early practitioners—known as holographers since about 1966—were attracted to the field early in their careers. Many are still alive, with memories, documents, and holograms. As an African writer has said of his continent’s oral history, ‘quand un vieillard meurt, c’est une bibliothèque qui brûle’ (when an old person dies, a library burns). The same can be said of entire technical communities.
This project has sought to capture the spirit, diversity and insights of some of those libraries. And yet this book inevitably chases shadows. I focus on the subject and its creators as much as on their remarkable products. What any text, film, or computer representation of the subject cannot do adequately is demonstrate the visual wonder of viewing a good hologram. Like the enjoyment of a stage play, concert, or surprising magic trick, the appreciation of a hologram is a product of its time, context, and audience. It is both a permanent product and a fleeting perceptual experience. The few illustrations of holograms in this book are therefore intended as mere hints—unsatisfactory evocations—of that intense visual experience.
Holograms represent the culmination of optical physics. The creation of those unsettling images is inherently a private activity hidden in dark, equipment-filled rooms but, in recent years, also a high-volume product manufactured increasingly by assembly-line processes. This juxtaposition of the private and the public, the dimly perceived and the brightly-lit, the painstakingly created and cheaply produced, is an important feature of this modern technology.
The communities and individuals that created holography—producing holograms, developing markets and becoming its consumers—each occupied separate spaces, invoked different understandings, and attached different meanings to their subject. For that reason, readers, too, may find themselves attracted to particular parts of that history.
The four sections of the book explore complementary aspects of creation. Their overall aim is to explain the emergence and evolution of the ideas, products, communities, and markets that collectively defined the new field of holography.
Judging the brightness and color of light has long been contentious. Alternately described as impossible and routine, it was beset by problems both technical and social. How trustworthy could such measurements be? Was the best standard of intensity a gas lamp, an incandescent bulb, or a glowing pool of molten metal? And how much did the answers depend on the background of the specialist?
A History of Light and Colour Measurement: Science in the Shadows is a history of the hidden workings of physical science-a technical endeavour embedded in a social context. It argues that this "undisciplined" subject, straddling academia, commerce, and regulation, may be typical not only of 20th century science, but of its future.
Attracting scientists, engineers, industrialists, and artists, the developing subject produced a new breed of practitioners having mixed provenance. The new measurers of light had to decide the shape not only of their specialism but of their careers: were they to be a part of physics, engineering, or psychology? The physical scientists who dominated the subject into the early 20th century made their central aim the replacement of the problematic human eye with physical detectors of light. For psychologists between the wars, though, describing the complexity of color was more important than quantifying a handful of its dimensions. And after WWII, military designers shaped the subject of radiometry and subsumed photometry and colorimetry within it. Never attaining a professional cachet, these various specialists moved fluidly between science and technology; through government, industry, and administration.
------------------------------
PREFACE
This book is about how light was made to count. It explores a seemingly simple question: How was the brightness of light—casually judged by everyone but seldom considered a part of science before the 20th century—transformed into a measurable and trustworthy quantity? Why did the description of colour become meaningful to artists, dyers, industrialists and a handful of scientists? Seeking answers requires the exploration of territory in the history, sociology and philosophy of science. Light was made to count as a quantifiable entity at the same time as it came to count for something in human terms. Measuring the intensity of light was fraught with difficulties closely bound up with human physiology, contentious technologies and scientific sub-cultures.
Explorations often begin with meanderings, tentative forays and more prolonged expeditions. This one ranges over a period of 250 years, and pursues social interactions at every scale. As the title hints, the subject was long on the periphery of recognized science. The illustrations in the book reinforce the reality of social marginalization, too: depictions of light-measurers are rare. Certainly their shrouded and blackened apparatus made photography awkward; but the reliance on human observers to make scientific measurements came to be an embarrassment to practitioners. The practitioners remain shadowy, too, because of the low status of their occupation, commercial reticence and—somewhat later—military secrecy. The measurement of brightness came to be invested with several purposes. It gained sporadic attention through the 18th century. Adopted alternately by astronomers and for the utilitarian needs of the gas lighting industry from the second half of the 19th century, it was appropriated by the nascent electric lighting industry to ‘prove’ the superiority of their technology. By the turn of the century the illuminating engineering movement was becoming an organized, if eclectic, community promoting research into the measurement of light intensity.
The early 20th century development of the subject was moulded by organization and institutionalization. During its first two decades, new national and industrial laboratories in Britain, America and Germany were crucial in stabilizing practices and raising confidence in them. Through the inter-war period, committees and international commissions sought to standardize light and colour measurement and to promote research. Such government- and industry-supported delegations, rather than academic institutions, were primarily responsible for the construction of the subject.
Along with this social organization came a new cognitive framework: practitioners increasingly came to interpret the three topics of photometry (visible light measurement), colorimetry (the measurement of colour) and radiometry (the measurement of invisible radiations) as aspects of a broader study. This recategorization brought shifts of authority: shifts of the dominant social group determining the direction of the subject’s evolution, and a shift of confidence away from the central element of detection, the eye. From the 1920s, the highly refined visual methods of observation were hurriedly replaced by physical means of light measurement, a process initially a matter of scientific fashion rather than demonstrated superiority. These non-human instruments embodied the new locus of light and colour, and the data they produced stabilized the definitions further.
The rise of automated, mechanized measurement of light and colour introduced new communities to the subject. New photoelectric techniques for measuring light intensity engendered new commercial instruments, a trend that accelerated in the 1930s when photometry was taken up with mixed success for a wide range of industrial problems. Seeds sown in those years—namely commercialization and industrial application, the transition from visual to physical methods and the search for fundamental limitations in light measurement—gave the subject the form it was to retain over the next half-century.
Nevertheless, changing usage mutated the subject. Light proved to be a valuable quantity for military purposes during and after the Second World War. A wholly new body of specialists—military contractors—transformed its measurement, creating new theory, new technology, new standards and new units of measurement.
Following this variety of players through their unfamiliar environments illuminates the often hidden territories of scientific change. And two themes run throughout this account of the measurement of light and colour from its first hesitant emergence to its gradual construction as a scientific subject. The first traces changing attitudes concerning quantification. The mathematization of light was a contentious process that hinged on finding an acceptable relationship between the mutable response of the human eye and the more readily stabilized, but less encompassing, techniques of physical measurement. The diffident acceptance of new techniques by different technical communities illuminates their value systems, interactions and socio-technical evolution.
A second theme is the exploration of light measurement as a science peripheral to the concerns of many contemporary scientists and the historians who later studied them, and yet arguably typical of the scientific enterprise. The lack of attention attracted by this marginal subject belies its wide influence throughout 20th century science and technology. Light measurement straddled the developing categories of ‘academic science’ and mere ‘invention’, and was influenced by such distinct elements as utilitarian requirements, technological innovation, human perception and networks of bureaucratization. Unlike more conventionally recognized ‘successful’ fields, the measurement of light did not evolve into an academic discipline or technical profession, although it did attract career specialists as guardians of a developing body of knowledge. By studying the range of interactions that shaped this seemingly diffuse subject, this book seeks to suggest the commonality of its evolutionary features with other subjects underpinning modern science. This richly connected region, belatedly gaining attention from historians and sociologists of science, has too long been in the shadows.
---------------------------
PREFACE
The representation of chemical engineering as a skilled specialism, an academic subject and an acknowledged profession is scarcely a century old. Its multiple identities followed different national trajectories. In Britain – shaped by institutions, firms and governments – the emergence of recognised chemical engineers was the unique result of professional aspirations and contingency.
This book is not framed as an inward-looking or congratulatory institutional history. Nor does it attempt to catalogue the minutiae of every accomplishment, individual or committee ever associated with the Institution of Chemical Engineers. We have, instead, tried to paint with some precision the evolution of an important specialism against a rich backdrop of technical, economic and political events, and from an historical and sociological perspective. Neither a festschrift nor an exposé, our study charts the difficult and complex emergence, stabilisation and maintenance of an occupational identity. Not only a careful and systematic answer to the question ‘What happened?’ but also ‘Why did events turn out as they did, and not otherwise?’ and ‘What can this tell us?’. This approach highlights the importance of scale, so central to the practice of chemical engineering: how a series of seemingly mundane decisions and singular episodes combined with long-term professional goals and enduring historical changes to create a peculiarly national variety of technical expert. But while avoiding both sentimentality and skepticism, it documents the remarkable rise of the profession due in no small part to the energetic actions of the Institution of Chemical Engineers.
The ‘chemical engineer’ was a type constructed both co-operatively and by conflict between interest groups. The product of a particular time and place, he (and more recently, she) was moulded by a changing social and technical environment. The collection of attributes that characterise this species of specialist has evolved over a century, and continues to evolve today. For this reason, professional identity is an important theme of this book. First used with some regularity as a description in 1880s Britain, the label ‘chemical engineer’ became variously defined: as an ‘engineer of industrial efficiency’ by the government after the first world war, as an affordable hybrid ‘jack of all trades’ by small chemical firms, as a non-existent or undesirable entity by large firms preferring teams of chemists and mechanical engineers or, after the second world war, as a theory-based scientific professional (indeed, the most ‘scientific’ of engineers) by academics. Chemical engineers present a particularly interesting problem for the historian because – unlike electrical engineering, for example, where one can speak of communities of telegraphists or radio engineers – the notion of a chemical engineering ‘community’ is punctured by the pervasive secrecy that operated in the chemical industry, which organised workers along the lines of industries (e.g. alkali production) and, even more insistently, by the cloaking traditions of firms.
Chemical engineers, and the specialism that they created, had an ephemeral identity for decades. From the transitory ghost of an idea shaped by a conjunction of interests, chemical engineering evolved into a concept buoyed up by growing consensus to compete with prevailing industrial cultures. It took on an identity in Britain quite different from that in America and Western Europe. Because of this fractured and mutating representation, we cannot trace backwards our present or historical notions of chemical engineering before the late nineteenth century, any more than we can validly seek the origins of Art Deco in ancient Egypt. Something akin to the tasks taken on by chemical engineers arguably existed before the late nineteenth century, but chemical engineers most assuredly did not. Consequently, the book is organised chronologically to span twelve decades, although some chapters focus on specific aspects of this history.
The purpose of this book is thus to provide a critical history and analysis of an idea and its consequences: the evolution to the end of the twentieth century of an identity associated with the occupation, discipline and especially the profession of chemical engineering in Britain, and the crucial role of the Institution of Chemical Engineers in that development.
The evolution of the profession is a topic unjustly neglected by historians and sociologists. Until fairly recently, most historical studies of chemical engineering have been written by former practitioners. The majority of these, in common with the few studies by professional historians, have focused on the emergence of the profession in the United States of America, where the subject had its most unproblematic success. Such works understandably have tended to assume that the development of the intellectual foundations of the discipline in Britain was strongly influenced by American experiences. By contrast, the present study highlights the national differences in the cognitive content and scope of the subject.
The history of this engineering specialism reveals a wealth of insights concerning the rise of the technical professions in Britain, their relevance in an industrialised economy and polity, the role of the universities in the emergence of academic disciplines, and changing definitions of the relationship between science and technology. We therefore hope that it will be of interest to practising chemical engineers, historians, sociologists, and the science studies community.
Papers (history of science and technology) by Sean F Johnston
ISBN 978-1-85168-681-0
Definitions altered qualitatively after the Second World War in at least three further ways: (a) new genres of device altered the scope of the scientific instrument; (b) the contribution of State and military sponsorship of new forms of instrument became significant; and, (c) the postwar demand for specialist instruments increased rapidly, owing to wartime innovation, new applications and new customers. I will explore the evolution of instrument manufacturing in this changing context of new technology, funding, development and markets.
This is the story of an intoxicating idea and its sobering consequences.
The twentieth century brought a new cultural confidence in the social powers of invention – along with consumerism, world wars, globalization, and human-generated climate change. This book traces how passive optimism and active promotion were linked to our growing trust in technological innovation. It pursues the evolving idea through engineering hubris, radical utopian movements, science fiction fanzines, policy-maker soundbites, corporate marketing, and consumer culture. It explores how evangelists of technological fixes have proselytized their faith and critically examines the examples and products of their followers.
For many, innovative technologies promised appealing new lifestyles and powers. But for a narrower band of proponents – the first generation of technological fixers – wise engineering invention was touted as a guaranteed route to positive human benefits and societal progress. Socially engaged engineers and designers argued that such improvements could be directed, hastened, and amplified.
These engineering adventurers argued that modern societies could be
guided only by rational designers. They contended that clever technological
solutions could solve contemporary problems better than any traditional
method, including economic initiatives, citizen education, political ideology,
lifestyle changes, legal frameworks, and moral guidance.
Their seductive claims were tamed by more mainstream American enthusiasts and were eventually boiled down to the concept of the “technological fix.” Their shared confidence infused policy-makers, broadcasters, and science popularizers. Trust in technological fixes shaped a new generation of managers and lawmakers, engineers and educators, futurists and citizens – and continues to drive a new generation of techno-fixers today. This cultural wave, its promoters and detractors, have championed the promise and voiced concerns that we have inherited, still unresolved.
This book tracks the hubristic influencers and weighs up the confidences and concerns associated with them: the dramatic potential for novel technologies to work alongside longer human traditions to meet our enduring ambitions – or to reshape society for the worse
The central concern of the book is environmental behavioural change: inspiring, informing and catalysing reflective change in the reader, and in their ability to influence others. By making clear the forms of environmental ethics that exist, and what each implies in terms of individual and social change, the reader will be better able to formulate, commit to, articulate and promote a coherent position on how to understand and engage with environmental issues.
Reflecting the multiple factors affecting our environment, Environmental Ethics and Behavioural Change adopts a multidisciplinary approach that draws from a range of academic specialisms. It provides a clear introduction to the main ethical theories; explains how different constellations of principles that shape the main environmental philosophies and movements have developed over time; and, how these relate to contemporary political philosophical views. Just as importantly, it explores the spectrum of current and proposed methods for addressing environmental sustainability; how they can be applied to contemporary social issues and professional practices; and, how these can be communicated effectively to stakeholders such as businesses, local communities, consumers and government. These techniques range from principles supporting wise technological choices, the psychology of behavioural change, and the politics of individual, group and societal choices.
Ethical theories outlined and discussed include utilitarianism, deontology and neo- Aristotelianism, and the spectrum of green philosophical paradigms include anthropocentric, ecocentric and biocentric value systems, deep ecologies and social ecologies. Examples and case studies are drawn from contemporary issues such as fracking, windfarms, geo-engineering, and transition towns; and the approaches to communication and behaviour change examined include strategies and tactics associated with technological fixes, free markets, ethical consumption, constitutional politics, community-based initiatives, symbolic actions and direct action; and tactics such as social marketing and practice theory.
For each ethical paradigm our analysis involves:
* An exploration of the behaviours that it requires of individuals and organisations.
* An examination of the practical possibilities and barriers associated with communicating its principles, and with communicating the forms of attitude and behaviour change it demands.
* An assessment of the limitations that its principles place on the types of communication and behaviour change strategies and tactics that can be employed, and whether or not they might be seen to be effective.
Yet the book is more than a compendium of techniques: throughout, it stresses the ethical implications of environmental action, explaining why practitioners need to be sensitive to issues of power and inequality, autonomy and collective responsibility, in order to promote workable, resilient and morally defensible revisions of current social practices.
-------------------------------------
PREFACE
Holograms reached popular consciousness during the 1960s and, over the following decades, evolved along with culture itself. No other visual experience is quite like interacting with holograms; no other cultural product melds the technological sublime with magic and optimism in quite the same way.
Why has its combination of attributes been perennially exhilarating and wondrous? Although the hologram was a product of its times, it was also wrapped in long established cultural threads. Its impacts were conditioned by its antecedents and associations. This protective heritage helped make it impervious to technical disappointments, while ongoing innovation periodically revitalized its spectacular qualities.
This book traces the cultural roots of holograms to explore their influences and effects, assess their counteracting attractions and explain their persistence. It complements and extends my earlier book for Oxford University Press, Holographic Visions: A History of New Science. That volume provided an in-depth account of the creators and concepts behind the subject of holography as a scientific concept, an engineering tool and a business, and was based on extensive archival research and interviews with the originators of the field. Addressing historians of science and technology, holographers and sociologists of expertise, it recounted the trials of creating a new science, a new industry and a new profession from this remarkable concept.
The present book shifts the focus outwards. I turn from the creators of holography to the consumers of holograms in distinct cultural settings. This complementary emphasis enrols fresh audiences, too: readers attracted to visual and cultural studies, scholars concerned with media history, fine art and material studies and, most of all, cross-disciplinary audiences intrigued about how this ubiquitous but still-mysterious visual medium grew up in our midst and became entangled in our culture.
----------------------------
PREFACE
During the mid-twentieth century, new technical specialists responsible for atomic energy materialized seemingly from nowhere. Their origins can be traced to the discovery of the neutron and the cascade of concepts and applications triggered by it. First defined by the project to develop an atomic bomb, nuclear experts were further shaped by their post-war explorations of nuclear engineering and eventually emerged to public view with the promise of electrical power generation.
But these children of the neutron grew unseen during their early years, nurtured by bountiful government funding and segregated by the concerns of the Cold War. Their isolation shaped them. In technical cloisters in the USA, Britain, and Canada, the scientists, engineers, and skilled workers who had first collaborated during the war grew into divergent nuclear breeds. Their skills and working cultures owed much to their distinct political, cultural, and occupational contexts, and their experiences provided templates for countries that had not had their head start. The result was a remarkable discipline distinguished by national experiences and goals but shaped enduringly by state intervention. Those origins have influenced public perceptions of these half-hidden specialists over the intervening decades.
For some subjects, the transition between non-existence and universal recognition is relatively clear-cut and uncontentious. They can be commemorated by anniversary banquets and founding fathers. But such history can equally become ossified, imprisoned in unanimity and overlooking the features of their professional identities that were once contentious. But nuclear engineering was, and is, different. Like nearly all technical expertise, there was a time at which it did not exist at all. Yet while this discipline gained a foothold in some institutional domains—being recognized at some technical sites, taught at some universities, and accorded status by some other professional groups—its attributes, products, and experts were disputed in others.
This book explores the gestation, incubation, and emergence of the new nuclear experts, and how they established unstable public identities in three countries. The story focuses on how their special knowledge was recognized, challenged, categorized, and spread. The building of nuclear expertise—of concern to professionals, politicians, and public alike—has been a decisive factor in the practice and popular understandings of late twentieth century science, industry, and culture.
Shaped by governments and special working environments from the Manhattan Project to Fukushima, this interstitial subject and its specialists have followed a tortuous trajectory over three generations. Still unsettled and challenged, their experiences and border disputes reveal the cultural factors that shape knowledge into particular packages.
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Published as an audio book by Bolinda Publishing (2012) ASIN B007R6PXMK ISBN 978-1743104934.
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Published in Chinese edition (2020) as (人人都該懂的科學簡史 (A Brief History of Science That Everyone Should Know) ISBN 978-7-57220-853-9.
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PREFACE
Holography hit the world with a bang in 1964. This book tracks that explosion, from the near-silent burning of the slow fuse that lit it to the repercussions and fading embers that followed. The history of holography can be visualized as a sublime fireworks show in which there have been impressive bursts intermingled with unexpected fizzles and more than a few duds.
Yet holography has simultaneously been an iceberg-like subject, hidden and mysterious. Much of its early activity gestated in laboratories engaged in classified research, both in America and the Soviet Union; much, too, in guarded processing techniques and the secretive business practices of its major application, anti-counterfeiting; and, more recently, in Asia, where differences in language and business culture limited information flow to rumour or scientific meetings. And some aspects, such as holographic erotica, remain ever obscure. Politics, culture, commercial secrecy, and even propriety have concealed the subject, making it peculiarly vulnerable to myths and misunderstandings.
Both metaphors—of fireworks and icebergs—are inadequate, and capture only restricted perspectives of the subject. Over its first sixty years, holography has run hot and cold, a subject rich in episodes of parallel discovery, priority disputes, intellectual accomplishment, suspicion, local victories, and lost opportunities.
Why attempt a history of what some still see as an immature subject? One reason is because notions of maturity carry questionable assumptions. Holography is a young science that illustrates how new subjects come to be. It provides answers to questions such as, How does a scientific subject materialize? How does its content stabilize? How do those who practice it come to recognize themselves as a distinct group? And how do its definitions and products depend on their environments?
This is a study of how new science develops. Holography is an unusual and important example of post-war science constructed from divergent visions. It grew beyond its founding communities to generate conflicting interpretations of success. This visionary subject exemplifies how science, technology and wider culture are woven inextricably in the modern world.
There is a rich thread of information to unravel, and the project is timely. As a subject that has not enjoyed uncontentious success, archives of holography are few and historical information is ephemeral. And most of the early practitioners—known as holographers since about 1966—were attracted to the field early in their careers. Many are still alive, with memories, documents, and holograms. As an African writer has said of his continent’s oral history, ‘quand un vieillard meurt, c’est une bibliothèque qui brûle’ (when an old person dies, a library burns). The same can be said of entire technical communities.
This project has sought to capture the spirit, diversity and insights of some of those libraries. And yet this book inevitably chases shadows. I focus on the subject and its creators as much as on their remarkable products. What any text, film, or computer representation of the subject cannot do adequately is demonstrate the visual wonder of viewing a good hologram. Like the enjoyment of a stage play, concert, or surprising magic trick, the appreciation of a hologram is a product of its time, context, and audience. It is both a permanent product and a fleeting perceptual experience. The few illustrations of holograms in this book are therefore intended as mere hints—unsatisfactory evocations—of that intense visual experience.
Holograms represent the culmination of optical physics. The creation of those unsettling images is inherently a private activity hidden in dark, equipment-filled rooms but, in recent years, also a high-volume product manufactured increasingly by assembly-line processes. This juxtaposition of the private and the public, the dimly perceived and the brightly-lit, the painstakingly created and cheaply produced, is an important feature of this modern technology.
The communities and individuals that created holography—producing holograms, developing markets and becoming its consumers—each occupied separate spaces, invoked different understandings, and attached different meanings to their subject. For that reason, readers, too, may find themselves attracted to particular parts of that history.
The four sections of the book explore complementary aspects of creation. Their overall aim is to explain the emergence and evolution of the ideas, products, communities, and markets that collectively defined the new field of holography.
Judging the brightness and color of light has long been contentious. Alternately described as impossible and routine, it was beset by problems both technical and social. How trustworthy could such measurements be? Was the best standard of intensity a gas lamp, an incandescent bulb, or a glowing pool of molten metal? And how much did the answers depend on the background of the specialist?
A History of Light and Colour Measurement: Science in the Shadows is a history of the hidden workings of physical science-a technical endeavour embedded in a social context. It argues that this "undisciplined" subject, straddling academia, commerce, and regulation, may be typical not only of 20th century science, but of its future.
Attracting scientists, engineers, industrialists, and artists, the developing subject produced a new breed of practitioners having mixed provenance. The new measurers of light had to decide the shape not only of their specialism but of their careers: were they to be a part of physics, engineering, or psychology? The physical scientists who dominated the subject into the early 20th century made their central aim the replacement of the problematic human eye with physical detectors of light. For psychologists between the wars, though, describing the complexity of color was more important than quantifying a handful of its dimensions. And after WWII, military designers shaped the subject of radiometry and subsumed photometry and colorimetry within it. Never attaining a professional cachet, these various specialists moved fluidly between science and technology; through government, industry, and administration.
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PREFACE
This book is about how light was made to count. It explores a seemingly simple question: How was the brightness of light—casually judged by everyone but seldom considered a part of science before the 20th century—transformed into a measurable and trustworthy quantity? Why did the description of colour become meaningful to artists, dyers, industrialists and a handful of scientists? Seeking answers requires the exploration of territory in the history, sociology and philosophy of science. Light was made to count as a quantifiable entity at the same time as it came to count for something in human terms. Measuring the intensity of light was fraught with difficulties closely bound up with human physiology, contentious technologies and scientific sub-cultures.
Explorations often begin with meanderings, tentative forays and more prolonged expeditions. This one ranges over a period of 250 years, and pursues social interactions at every scale. As the title hints, the subject was long on the periphery of recognized science. The illustrations in the book reinforce the reality of social marginalization, too: depictions of light-measurers are rare. Certainly their shrouded and blackened apparatus made photography awkward; but the reliance on human observers to make scientific measurements came to be an embarrassment to practitioners. The practitioners remain shadowy, too, because of the low status of their occupation, commercial reticence and—somewhat later—military secrecy. The measurement of brightness came to be invested with several purposes. It gained sporadic attention through the 18th century. Adopted alternately by astronomers and for the utilitarian needs of the gas lighting industry from the second half of the 19th century, it was appropriated by the nascent electric lighting industry to ‘prove’ the superiority of their technology. By the turn of the century the illuminating engineering movement was becoming an organized, if eclectic, community promoting research into the measurement of light intensity.
The early 20th century development of the subject was moulded by organization and institutionalization. During its first two decades, new national and industrial laboratories in Britain, America and Germany were crucial in stabilizing practices and raising confidence in them. Through the inter-war period, committees and international commissions sought to standardize light and colour measurement and to promote research. Such government- and industry-supported delegations, rather than academic institutions, were primarily responsible for the construction of the subject.
Along with this social organization came a new cognitive framework: practitioners increasingly came to interpret the three topics of photometry (visible light measurement), colorimetry (the measurement of colour) and radiometry (the measurement of invisible radiations) as aspects of a broader study. This recategorization brought shifts of authority: shifts of the dominant social group determining the direction of the subject’s evolution, and a shift of confidence away from the central element of detection, the eye. From the 1920s, the highly refined visual methods of observation were hurriedly replaced by physical means of light measurement, a process initially a matter of scientific fashion rather than demonstrated superiority. These non-human instruments embodied the new locus of light and colour, and the data they produced stabilized the definitions further.
The rise of automated, mechanized measurement of light and colour introduced new communities to the subject. New photoelectric techniques for measuring light intensity engendered new commercial instruments, a trend that accelerated in the 1930s when photometry was taken up with mixed success for a wide range of industrial problems. Seeds sown in those years—namely commercialization and industrial application, the transition from visual to physical methods and the search for fundamental limitations in light measurement—gave the subject the form it was to retain over the next half-century.
Nevertheless, changing usage mutated the subject. Light proved to be a valuable quantity for military purposes during and after the Second World War. A wholly new body of specialists—military contractors—transformed its measurement, creating new theory, new technology, new standards and new units of measurement.
Following this variety of players through their unfamiliar environments illuminates the often hidden territories of scientific change. And two themes run throughout this account of the measurement of light and colour from its first hesitant emergence to its gradual construction as a scientific subject. The first traces changing attitudes concerning quantification. The mathematization of light was a contentious process that hinged on finding an acceptable relationship between the mutable response of the human eye and the more readily stabilized, but less encompassing, techniques of physical measurement. The diffident acceptance of new techniques by different technical communities illuminates their value systems, interactions and socio-technical evolution.
A second theme is the exploration of light measurement as a science peripheral to the concerns of many contemporary scientists and the historians who later studied them, and yet arguably typical of the scientific enterprise. The lack of attention attracted by this marginal subject belies its wide influence throughout 20th century science and technology. Light measurement straddled the developing categories of ‘academic science’ and mere ‘invention’, and was influenced by such distinct elements as utilitarian requirements, technological innovation, human perception and networks of bureaucratization. Unlike more conventionally recognized ‘successful’ fields, the measurement of light did not evolve into an academic discipline or technical profession, although it did attract career specialists as guardians of a developing body of knowledge. By studying the range of interactions that shaped this seemingly diffuse subject, this book seeks to suggest the commonality of its evolutionary features with other subjects underpinning modern science. This richly connected region, belatedly gaining attention from historians and sociologists of science, has too long been in the shadows.
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PREFACE
The representation of chemical engineering as a skilled specialism, an academic subject and an acknowledged profession is scarcely a century old. Its multiple identities followed different national trajectories. In Britain – shaped by institutions, firms and governments – the emergence of recognised chemical engineers was the unique result of professional aspirations and contingency.
This book is not framed as an inward-looking or congratulatory institutional history. Nor does it attempt to catalogue the minutiae of every accomplishment, individual or committee ever associated with the Institution of Chemical Engineers. We have, instead, tried to paint with some precision the evolution of an important specialism against a rich backdrop of technical, economic and political events, and from an historical and sociological perspective. Neither a festschrift nor an exposé, our study charts the difficult and complex emergence, stabilisation and maintenance of an occupational identity. Not only a careful and systematic answer to the question ‘What happened?’ but also ‘Why did events turn out as they did, and not otherwise?’ and ‘What can this tell us?’. This approach highlights the importance of scale, so central to the practice of chemical engineering: how a series of seemingly mundane decisions and singular episodes combined with long-term professional goals and enduring historical changes to create a peculiarly national variety of technical expert. But while avoiding both sentimentality and skepticism, it documents the remarkable rise of the profession due in no small part to the energetic actions of the Institution of Chemical Engineers.
The ‘chemical engineer’ was a type constructed both co-operatively and by conflict between interest groups. The product of a particular time and place, he (and more recently, she) was moulded by a changing social and technical environment. The collection of attributes that characterise this species of specialist has evolved over a century, and continues to evolve today. For this reason, professional identity is an important theme of this book. First used with some regularity as a description in 1880s Britain, the label ‘chemical engineer’ became variously defined: as an ‘engineer of industrial efficiency’ by the government after the first world war, as an affordable hybrid ‘jack of all trades’ by small chemical firms, as a non-existent or undesirable entity by large firms preferring teams of chemists and mechanical engineers or, after the second world war, as a theory-based scientific professional (indeed, the most ‘scientific’ of engineers) by academics. Chemical engineers present a particularly interesting problem for the historian because – unlike electrical engineering, for example, where one can speak of communities of telegraphists or radio engineers – the notion of a chemical engineering ‘community’ is punctured by the pervasive secrecy that operated in the chemical industry, which organised workers along the lines of industries (e.g. alkali production) and, even more insistently, by the cloaking traditions of firms.
Chemical engineers, and the specialism that they created, had an ephemeral identity for decades. From the transitory ghost of an idea shaped by a conjunction of interests, chemical engineering evolved into a concept buoyed up by growing consensus to compete with prevailing industrial cultures. It took on an identity in Britain quite different from that in America and Western Europe. Because of this fractured and mutating representation, we cannot trace backwards our present or historical notions of chemical engineering before the late nineteenth century, any more than we can validly seek the origins of Art Deco in ancient Egypt. Something akin to the tasks taken on by chemical engineers arguably existed before the late nineteenth century, but chemical engineers most assuredly did not. Consequently, the book is organised chronologically to span twelve decades, although some chapters focus on specific aspects of this history.
The purpose of this book is thus to provide a critical history and analysis of an idea and its consequences: the evolution to the end of the twentieth century of an identity associated with the occupation, discipline and especially the profession of chemical engineering in Britain, and the crucial role of the Institution of Chemical Engineers in that development.
The evolution of the profession is a topic unjustly neglected by historians and sociologists. Until fairly recently, most historical studies of chemical engineering have been written by former practitioners. The majority of these, in common with the few studies by professional historians, have focused on the emergence of the profession in the United States of America, where the subject had its most unproblematic success. Such works understandably have tended to assume that the development of the intellectual foundations of the discipline in Britain was strongly influenced by American experiences. By contrast, the present study highlights the national differences in the cognitive content and scope of the subject.
The history of this engineering specialism reveals a wealth of insights concerning the rise of the technical professions in Britain, their relevance in an industrialised economy and polity, the role of the universities in the emergence of academic disciplines, and changing definitions of the relationship between science and technology. We therefore hope that it will be of interest to practising chemical engineers, historians, sociologists, and the science studies community.
ISBN 978-1-85168-681-0
Definitions altered qualitatively after the Second World War in at least three further ways: (a) new genres of device altered the scope of the scientific instrument; (b) the contribution of State and military sponsorship of new forms of instrument became significant; and, (c) the postwar demand for specialist instruments increased rapidly, owing to wartime innovation, new applications and new customers. I will explore the evolution of instrument manufacturing in this changing context of new technology, funding, development and markets.
The links between science and technology, on the one hand, and wider society, on the other, have been the focus of growing attention over the past two generations. This inaugural lecture by Sean Johnston, Professor of Science, Technology and Society at the University of Glasgow’s School of Interdisciplinary Studies, will explore the recent history of this relationship and discuss why the social implications of science and technology have become increasingly contentious. Illustrated by career experiences as a participant and researcher in emerging fields, his session will highlight the advantages of an interdisciplinary approach for creating new knowledge and opportunities. The lecture will describe how current research and postgraduate teaching seek to identify and tackle issues at the heart of our current century.
hologram” performers) than in front of our eyes. The most enduring, popular interpretations of the word “hologram” evoke the traditional allure of magic and galvanize hopeful technological dreams. This article explores the mutating cultural uses of the term “hologram” as marker of magic, modernity and optimism.
doi:10.1162/neco.2009.07-08-823
Zizek’s theme, as well as Pakula’s, is relevant to my approach, which focuses on a parallax of both practice and intent. During the first successful decade of holography, conflicting viewpoints developed between distinct communities: the militarily-guided engineers who invented practical holography, and the later imaging scientists and artisans who stressed three-dimensionality and other attributes instead of the original goal of optical image processing. I argue that distinct groups of users had different perceptions of what holography is and what it is for.
Three laser wavelengths were used to investigate alloy compositions with 0.34 < x < 0.85. At 119 micrometers, dramatic increases in reflectivity and its temperature dependence were observed between the compositions 0.5 < x < 0.6, corresponding to the stoichiometric alloys GaTe and Ga2Te3. Measurements at 571 and 1217 micrometers, however, were found to contain systematic errors resulting from diffraction and interference of the laser radiations. Thew composition-dependence of the reflectivity results deviates strongly from that predicted from published resistivity data using the Drude model.
Broad-band spectra of the two intermetallic melts, measured using FTS, show smooth frequency dependence, free of modes attributable to suspected molecular clusters. Liquid Ga2Te3 has a Drude-like far infrared spectrum, but GaTe has nearly constant reflectivity below 100 wavenumbers.
The far infrared properties are similar to those of the liquid Mg-Bi system, the only previously investigated binary liquid semiconductor, and to several amorphous solids, suggesting that the properties may be intrinsic to disordered systems in general.
Results are discussed in terms of current theories.
The Conversation UK, 6 Sep 2017
https://theconversation.com/beware-the-cult-of-tech-fixing-its-why-america-is-eyeing-the-nuclear-button-83387
The Conversation UK 24 Nov 2016
https://theconversation.com/holograms-are-no-longer-the-future-but-we-must-not-forget-them-heres-why-69306