Every technology arrives carrying a promise. Every technology changes something else as well. This strand asks what technological change actually does — to knowledge, to labour, to authorship, to the gap between what is known and what is believed.
Six disruptions across three centuries — the Luddites, containerisation, deindustrialisation, globalisation, the gig economy, AI. In every case: who gained, who paid, and what society chose to do about it. The question is not whether the gain was real. The question is who it went to.
Six technologies, five centuries, one pattern. The printing press looked like a faster way to make books. Smartphones looked like phones with extra features. None of them stayed that way. The disruption is never where the attention is.
If something is true, why would anyone disagree? Six disputes — tobacco, sugar, MMR, climate change, evolution, COVID origins. Not all disagreements are the same. The taxonomy is what makes the difference visible.
Capability is not the hardest question. The hardest question is what happens to the value of something when you can no longer be certain who — or what — made it. Six cases across creative writing, medicine, law, art, collaboration, and education.
Utopia and dystopia are not treated as opposites. Every case in the strand demonstrates that the same technological change can be utopian and dystopian simultaneously, depending on what you value and where you stand.
To what extent does technological progress benefit society as a whole — or does the question itself obscure what matters?
Why does scientific consensus fail to produce social consensus? What does the gap between knowing and believing tell us about how societies make decisions?
Is it possible to assess a technology's impact before that impact has fully arrived? What are the limits of historical analogy?
What is the difference between a skill made redundant by technology and a human capability diminished by it? Does the distinction matter?
To what extent is manufactured doubt a political problem rather than an epistemological one?
Should societies compensate those who lose from technological disruption? On what grounds — and at what scale?