A Brief History of Motion

A Brief History of Motion Plot Summary

Introduction

Picture this: ancient Mesopotamian cities with streets clogged by horse-drawn carts, medieval knights disdaining wheeled vehicles as beneath their dignity, or early 20th century streets suddenly transformed by automobiles. Transportation isn't merely about moving from place to place—it has fundamentally shaped human civilization, from how we build our cities to how we conduct commerce and even how we court one another. Throughout history, transportation technologies have arrived with great fanfare and promises of improvement, only to create unexpected consequences of their own. The wheel, initially rare and revolutionary, transformed warfare and trade. The bicycle granted unprecedented personal mobility before cars appeared. Automobiles promised to solve urban pollution problems (ironically, the pollution being horse manure) but created new environmental challenges. Today, as we stand at another crossroads with electric and autonomous vehicles, ride-sharing services, and other mobility innovations, understanding this five-thousand-year journey offers vital perspective. By examining how transportation technologies have repeatedly reshaped society—often in unanticipated ways—we gain insight into how current transportation changes might transform our future. Whether you're fascinated by ancient innovations, curious about cultural shifts, or concerned about sustainable mobility, this historical journey reveals how profoundly the technologies that move us shape who we are.

Chapter 1: Origins: From First Wheels to Roman Roads (3500 BCE-500 CE)

The journey of wheeled transportation begins around 3500 BCE, not with grand chariots or elaborate carriages, but with humble wooden wheels fashioned from planks in the Carpathian region of Eastern Europe. Archaeological evidence suggests the earliest wheels weren't cut from logs as circular slices (as is commonly believed) but constructed from multiple wooden planks fastened together with battens. The Ljubljana Marshes Wheel, dated to around 3200 BCE and discovered in modern-day Slovenia, stands as the oldest actual wheel ever found. The revolutionary idea of the wheel spread rapidly across Eurasia, from Europe to Mesopotamia, transforming how people moved goods and themselves. By 3000 BCE, four-wheeled wagons were being used for agriculture in Europe, as mobile homes for nomads around the Black Sea, and for military and ceremonial purposes in Mesopotamia. The Royal Standard of Ur, a Mesopotamian artifact from about 2600 BCE, depicts four-wheeled battle vehicles pulled by onagers (similar to donkeys) crushing enemies beneath their wheels. Perhaps the most significant innovation in wheeled vehicles arrived around 2000 BCE with the invention of the chariot. Unlike earlier wagons with solid wheels, chariots featured spoked wheels—larger, lighter, and capable of much higher speeds. Pulled by horses (domesticated around 3500 BCE), these vehicles could achieve unprecedented velocities of up to 25 mph. The Hittites pioneered lightweight military chariots, using them to conquer most of Anatolia by 1700 BCE. The Battle of Kadesh in 1274 BCE, between Egyptians under Rameses II and the Hittites, featured approximately 5,000 chariots and 50,000 soldiers, marking it as the largest chariot battle in history. As wheeled vehicles became more common, societies began establishing rules for their use. The Romans, whose empire was connected by over 250,000 miles of roads, introduced some of the earliest traffic regulations. Evidence from Roman sites like Pompeii indicates they preferred driving on the right side of the road. In Rome itself, Julius Caesar's Lex Julia Municipalis of 45 BCE allowed wheeled vehicles in the city only between dusk and dawn, when streets were least crowded—perhaps the first urban traffic management scheme in history. The influence of Roman innovations persisted long after their empire fell. Their system of road-building techniques, right-side driving preferences, and methods of separating pedestrian and vehicular traffic laid foundations for transportation systems that would evolve over centuries. However, after Rome's collapse, wheels fell into disuse in many regions. North Africa abandoned wheeled vehicles in favor of camels, while in Europe, high-ranking men shifted to horseback transportation, considering riding in carts or wagons beneath their dignity. This regression shows how technological adoption is never straightforward—cultural factors can cause even revolutionary innovations to fall temporarily into disuse.

Chapter 2: Carriages, Cycles and the Birth of Personal Transport (1500-1890)

By the early 1500s, wheeled vehicles had fallen dramatically out of favor among Europe's elite men. Knights and noblemen prided themselves on horseback riding, considering it the only dignified form of transport. In his 12th-century poem "The Knight of the Cart," Chrétien de Troyes depicts the legendary knight Lancelot facing mockery and shame for riding in a cart rather than on horseback. High-status women, however, traveled in enclosed wagons—a tradition continuing from Roman times. This cultural disdain for wheels underwent a sudden reversal in the 16th century with the introduction of the coach, a four-wheeled vehicle whose name derives from the Hungarian village of Kocs. Coaches rapidly became status symbols among European royalty. By 1560, the flourishing city of Antwerp had more than 500 coaches, while London and Paris had just a handful each. Queen Elizabeth I received her first coach in 1564, built by Walter Rippon, and in 1582 received another as a gift from Henri III of France. Across Europe, monarchs exchanged coaches as diplomatic gifts, displaying their nation's technical prowess. The 19th century brought another wheeled revolution with the invention of the bicycle. In 1817, Karl von Drais created the Laufmaschine (literally "running machine"), a two-wheeled wooden vehicle propelled by the rider pushing along the ground with their feet. Despite initial enthusiasm, the velocipede (as it came to be known) fell out of favor until the 1860s when pedals were added to the front wheel. By the late 1880s, the "safety bicycle" emerged with equal-sized wheels, pneumatic tires, and chain drive to the rear wheel—a design recognizably modern to today's eyes. This new form of personal transport had profound social implications. The bicycle gave riders unprecedented freedom to travel independently without the expense of maintaining a horse. It particularly empowered women, challenging Victorian clothing norms as female cyclists adopted more practical attire. American civil rights campaigner Susan B. Anthony declared that the bicycle "has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world." Bicycles also revolutionized courtship, allowing young couples to escape the watchful eyes of chaperones, and broadened people's social circles by enabling travel beyond one's immediate community. Meanwhile, urban mass transit was evolving. Horse-drawn omnibuses, introduced by Stanislaus Baudry in Nantes in 1826, offered shared transportation at affordable prices. Their flat fare, regardless of distance traveled, allowed commuters to live further from city centers while maintaining the same commute time. When electric streetcars appeared in the late 1880s, beginning in Richmond, Virginia, they could travel at 12-15 mph, extending the half-hour commuting distance to at least six miles and dramatically increasing the potential residential area around cities. These developments—coaches for the wealthy, bicycles for personal freedom, and public transit for the masses—set the stage for the next revolutionary transportation technology. The bicycle, in particular, created demand for better roads and paved the way, both literally and figuratively, for the automobile's arrival. As one American engineer later noted, the bicycle "created a new demand which was beyond the ability of the railroads to supply... and we now know that the automobile was the answer."

Chapter 3: The Automobile Revolution: Rise of Mass Mobility (1890-1950)

The dawn of the automotive era can be traced to two pivotal events in the 1890s. First was Bertha Benz's pioneering journey in August 1888, when she drove her husband Carl's prototype Motorwagen 65 miles from Mannheim to Pforzheim without his knowledge. This first real-world test demonstrated that automobiles could handle long-distance travel and introduced the horseless carriage to astonished onlookers along the route. The second event was the Paris-Rouen race of 1894, sponsored by Le Petit Journal newspaper to determine which type of horseless carriage—steam, electric, or petrol—was most practical. This race brought together the leading automotive pioneers of the day. Among them were Count Jules-Albert de Dion with his steam tractor, Émile Roger driving a Benz vehicle, and several vehicles powered by Gottlieb Daimler's internal combustion engines. Although the Count de Dion's steam tractor finished first, the judges awarded the main prize jointly to Peugeot and Panhard et Levassor, whose petrol-powered vehicles "came closest to the ideal" of being safe, easy to use, and economical. This contest established the internal combustion engine as the most promising technology for powering automobiles. By 1900, competing automobile technologies showed distinct advantages and disadvantages. Electric vehicles were clean, quiet, and reliable but had limited range and slow recharging. Steam vehicles had good power and range but were complicated to operate and slow to start. Gasoline-powered vehicles were noisy and temperamental but offered greater range as fuel was widely available. In America, electric vehicles initially outsold petrol ones, but by 1903 the gasoline-powered Oldsmobile Curved Dash had taken the lead in sales, signaling the internal combustion engine's victory. The transformation from novelty to necessity accelerated with Henry Ford's introduction of the Model T in 1908. Priced at $850 (about $24,000 today), it was not the cheapest car available but offered unprecedented power and durability for the price. Ford's implementation of the moving assembly line in 1913-14 revolutionized manufacturing, reducing production time from twelve hours to ninety-three minutes per vehicle. This efficiency allowed Ford to steadily reduce the Model T's price to just $298 by 1923 while paying workers the remarkably high wage of $5 per day. As automobiles proliferated, they triggered profound social changes. Cities had to establish new traffic rules, install traffic lights (first appearing in Cleveland in 1914), and manage conflicts between pedestrians and drivers. A fierce battle over street space ensued, with the car industry successfully campaigning to redefine streets as primarily for vehicles rather than pedestrians. The term "jaywalking" was weaponized to blame pedestrians for accidents, and by 1930 the assumption that cars had the right of way had become entrenched. Meanwhile, automobile ownership was exploding, particularly in America. Between 1910 and 1920, the number of automobiles on American roads increased from 458,000 to 8 million—a thousandfold increase in just twenty years. This growth represented a revolution in personal mobility, extending car ownership down the income scale and making it accessible to ordinary families. By the end of this period, the automobile had firmly established itself as a cornerstone of modern life, reshaping everything from urban design to social customs. As journalist Filson Young observed in 1911, the automobile had evolved from "a scientific experiment" to "the toy of the rich," then "the ambition of the poor," and finally "the servant of everyone."

Chapter 4: Reshaping Society: How Cars Transformed Modern Life (1950-2000)

The post-World War II era saw the automobile's influence expand from mere transportation to become the central organizing principle of modern society. America led this transformation, with car ownership skyrocketing from 25 million vehicles in 1945 to over 100 million by 1973. European and Japanese car ownership followed similar, if less dramatic, trajectories. The automobile was no longer just a convenient way to travel—it had become the foundation of a new way of life. This era witnessed the birth of modern suburbia, designed explicitly around automobile dependency. William Levitt, applying mass-production techniques perfected in the car industry, built Levittown on Long Island starting in 1947. This suburb of more than 17,000 homes featured curving streets and cul-de-sacs arranged in a mazelike layout, with houses starting at $7,990 (0% down for veterans). By 1950, 80% of Levittown men commuted to Manhattan, enabled by Robert Moses's network of parkways connecting to the city. This model spread rapidly across America, with developers following Levitt's construction methods and suburban planning principles. The car also reshaped youth culture. American teenagers of the 1940s were the first generation to grow up in a world where cars were commonplace. With school keeping them together during the day, after-school jobs providing spending money, and access to cars giving them independence, teenagers developed a distinctive set of behaviors. Dating moved "from the front porch to the back seat," as historian Beth Bailey put it. New car-centered institutions emerged to serve this demographic: drive-in theaters (reaching their peak of 4,000 locations by 1958), drive-in restaurants like the Pig Stand (founded 1921), and fast-food chains employing assembly-line food preparation techniques pioneered by the McDonald brothers in 1948. Shopping patterns underwent similar transformation. Supermarkets, pioneered by King Kullen in 1930, relied on customers arriving by car who could purchase goods in bulk and transport them home. Shopping centers followed, accelerated by a 1954 tax law change that made them particularly profitable to develop. Victor Gruen designed the Southdale Center near Minneapolis in 1956, creating the first enclosed, climate-controlled shopping mall. Ironically, while Gruen intended malls as pedestrian-friendly alternatives to "avenues of horror" lined with billboards and strip malls, they further entrenched car dependency by locating exclusively in suburban areas accessible primarily by automobile. For African Americans, the automobile offered partial escape from the humiliations of segregated public transport. Cars enabled Black travelers to avoid Jim Crow rules on buses and trains, and the Montgomery Bus Boycott of 1955-56 demonstrated how private vehicles could support civil rights activism. When city officials forbade Black taxi drivers from charging reduced fares during the boycott, the Montgomery Improvement Association established its own fleet of "rolling churches"—station wagons owned by Black churches that transported congregation members to and from work. By century's end, the automobile had thoroughly embedded itself in the physical, economic, and cultural landscape. Cities devoted 30-50% of their land to roads and parking. Suburban living had become the norm for most Americans, with 70% residing in suburbs. The car had transformed from a novelty to an assumed necessity—so much so that Marshall McLuhan described it in 1964 as "an article of dress without which we feel uncertain, unclad and incomplete in the urban compound."

Chapter 5: Environmental Challenges and the Electric Vehicle Renaissance (1970-2010)

The 1970s marked a pivotal turning point in the perception of automobiles. The OPEC oil embargo of 1973, triggered by Middle Eastern countries protesting American support for Israel in the Yom Kippur War, suddenly exposed America's vulnerability due to its dependence on imported oil. As gas prices surged and long lines formed at service stations, Americans experienced for the first time the precariousness of their automobile-centered lifestyle. The federal government responded by introducing a national speed limit of 55 mph and fuel economy standards requiring automakers to achieve an average of 27.5 miles per gallon by 1985. This first "oil shock" was followed by a second in 1979, resulting from the Iranian Revolution and subsequent Iran-Iraq War. Together, these crises prompted growing interest in smaller, more fuel-efficient vehicles. Japanese brands like Toyota, Honda, and Datsun (later Nissan) gained market share, increasing from 3.5% of the American market in 1970 to 16% by 1980. American automakers, however, were slow to adapt—by the late 1970s, 80% of American-made cars still had gas-guzzling V-8 engines. The era also saw growing awareness of automobiles' environmental impact. Beyond their consumption of finite fossil fuels, cars produced air pollutants including particulate matter, volatile organic compounds, nitrogen oxides, carbon monoxide, and greenhouse gases. Environmental concerns led to the passage of the Clean Air Act in the United States and similar legislation elsewhere, requiring catalytic converters and other pollution-control technologies. However, a regulatory loophole allowed SUVs, classified as light trucks rather than passenger cars, to sidestep emissions, fuel-economy, and safety standards—leading to their proliferation in the 1990s. Electric vehicles seemed poised for a comeback, but technology limitations hampered their adoption. The CitiCar, launched in 1974 after the first oil shock, was a tiny electric vehicle with a range of about forty miles and a top speed of 30 mph. About 2,300 were sold before production ceased in 1977. In the 1990s, General Motors produced the EV1, an electric car leased to drivers in California and Arizona. Despite attracting loyal followers, only 1,100 were made before GM terminated the program in 2002 and recalled and crushed nearly all the vehicles. The real breakthrough for electric vehicles came from an unlikely direction: consumer electronics. Lithium-ion batteries, developed initially for portable devices like camcorders and laptops, offered much higher energy density than traditional lead-acid batteries. In 2003, a small company called AC Propulsion demonstrated the tzero, an electric sports car powered by 6,800 small lithium-ion cells. This prototype impressed two tech entrepreneurs, Martin Eberhard and Elon Musk, who went on to found Tesla Motors. The company's first vehicle, the Tesla Roadster, launched in 2006, changed perceptions by emphasizing performance rather than environmental benefits. Unlike previous electric cars with poor performance and odd designs, the Roadster could outperform gasoline-powered sports cars in acceleration. Musk articulated a clear strategy: enter at the luxury end of the market where customers would pay a premium, then use that revenue to develop increasingly affordable models. The goal was nothing less than transitioning from a "mine-and-burn hydrocarbon economy towards a solar electric economy." Tesla's approach proved successful, launching the Model S in 2012 and the more affordable Model 3 in 2017. Meanwhile, lithium-ion battery costs fell by 90% between 2010 and 2020, making electric vehicles increasingly competitive with internal combustion engines. By 2010, multiple factors were converging to make electric vehicles viable: improved battery technology, growing climate change concerns, and tightening regulations on conventional vehicles. Several countries announced plans to phase out sales of new internal combustion engine vehicles, signaling that the century-long dominance of gasoline and diesel was coming to an end. The wheel of automotive history had turned full circle, with electric propulsion—initially competitive with gasoline in the 1900s but sidelined for a century—poised for a remarkable comeback.

Chapter 6: Beyond Ownership: The Emergence of Mobility Services (2010-Present)

The 2010s witnessed a fundamental shift in how people approach transportation, with the rise of mobility services challenging the century-old paradigm of car ownership. This transformation began with the emergence of ride-hailing platforms, pioneered by Uber and Lyft. In 2011, Uber launched its car-hailing service in San Francisco, allowing users to summon rides with a few taps on a smartphone. Initially targeting the luxury market with black town cars, Uber expanded in 2013 to allow drivers to offer rides in ordinary vehicles. The same year, Lyft launched a competing service. These platforms quickly spread globally, with regional competitors emerging: Ola in India, Didi Chuxing in China, Careem in the Middle East, and Grab in Southeast Asia. The ride-hailing market became fiercely competitive, with price wars benefiting consumers but raising questions about the sustainability of the business model. In China, Didi Chuxing grew to provide 30 million rides per day—twice as many as Uber did globally. The smartphone revolution also reinvigorated the concept of bike sharing. Traditional bike-sharing programs, involving docking stations where bicycles could be checked out with smart cards, had existed since the late 1990s. But the introduction of "dockless" bike sharing by Chinese startups Ofo and Mobike around 2017 transformed the model. These systems allowed bicycles to be located via smartphone apps, unlocked by scanning QR codes, and left anywhere after use. Similar systems for electric scooters followed, led by Bird and Lime in the United States. Collectively, these new modes have come to be known as "micromobility," a term coined by analyst Horace Dediu in 2017. They particularly target short trips—about 60% of car journeys in America, China, and the European Union cover less than five miles, making them ideal candidates for replacement by bikes, e-bikes, and e-scooters. For longer journeys, car-sharing services like Zipcar allow vehicles to be rented by the minute, hour, or day via smartphone apps. The most significant development, however, has been the integration of these various services into unified platforms, an approach known as "mobility as a service" (MaaS). In Helsinki, for example, an app called Whim allows users to access trains, trams, buses, bike rental, taxis, e-scooters, and car rental through a single interface. Users can plan routes across multiple modes of transport, see prices upfront, make payments, and buy tickets—all through one app. Similar services have launched in Antwerp, Birmingham, Singapore, Vienna, and Berlin. This approach represents what might be called an "internet of motion"—a network connecting different transport systems into a single, seamless service. Just as computer networks were connected to form the internet, transport networks are being integrated to create a more powerful and flexible system. Ride-hailing companies like Uber are positioning themselves as transport aggregators, showing public transit options alongside private rides. Even carmakers are entering this space, recognizing that selling mobility services could be more profitable than selling vehicles. The integration of various mobility options provides cities with powerful tools to address congestion, pollution, and equity issues. By adjusting prices and incentives, authorities can encourage behaviors that align with public goals—offering discounts for cycling rather than driving, subsidizing rides in underserved neighborhoods, or implementing congestion charges in busy areas. The system also allows for experimentation through "tactical urbanism," testing changes to street design and measuring their impact before making them permanent. What makes this approach particularly promising is its flexibility. Rather than depending on a single technology or mode of transport, the internet of motion can adapt to different mixtures of services in different cities, monitor changing usage patterns, and incorporate new transport technologies as they emerge. In the twentieth century, cars granted people independence; in the twenty-first, the internet of motion promises to grant them independence from their cars.

Chapter 7: Autonomous Futures: The Promise and Perils of Driverless Technology

The concept of self-driving vehicles has fascinated engineers and futurists since at least the 1939 World's Fair, where Norman Bel Geddes' Futurama exhibit depicted automated highways with cars that drove themselves. But turning this vision into reality required decades of technological advancement. The breakthrough came in 2004 with the DARPA Grand Challenge, a competition organized by the U.S. military's research agency to accelerate development of autonomous vehicles. In this first contest, participants had to build vehicles capable of navigating a 142-mile desert course without human intervention. The results were dismal—no vehicle completed more than 7.4 miles before breaking down or going off course. Yet just 18 months later, in the second Grand Challenge, five vehicles completed the entire 132-mile course. This remarkable progress continued in a third contest in 2007, which required vehicles to handle traffic signals and other vehicles in a simulated urban environment. From these competitions emerged a community of engineers who would go on to lead autonomous vehicle development at companies including Google, Uber, Tesla, and numerous startups. Self-driving cars function through a combination of sensors—including cameras, radar, and lidar (a radar-like technique using light pulses)—to create a detailed map of their surroundings. Machine learning algorithms then identify objects like vehicles, pedestrians, and road signs, predict how they will move, and determine how to respond. While these systems can perform impressively in controlled environments, they struggle with unusual situations like road debris, pedestrians in costumes, or ambiguous social interactions at four-way stops. The development of autonomous vehicles has been marked by both triumphs and tragedies. In 2016, Steve Mahan, a blind man, became the first non-employee to ride alone in a Google self-driving car, demonstrating the technology's potential to provide independence for those unable to drive. But in 2018, an Uber test vehicle struck and killed pedestrian Elaine Herzberg in Tempe, Arizona—the first pedestrian fatality involving an autonomous vehicle. Several deaths have also occurred in Tesla vehicles using the company's Autopilot system, which is not fully autonomous but assists with highway driving. Proponents argue that widespread adoption of autonomous vehicles would offer tremendous benefits. With human error causing more than 90% of road accidents, self-driving cars could dramatically reduce the 1.25 million annual traffic deaths worldwide. They could provide mobility for the elderly, disabled, and those too young to drive. And by eliminating the need for human drivers, they could make ride-hailing services much cheaper—perhaps $0.50 per mile compared to today's $2.50 per mile, according to some analysts. This could undermine the economic case for car ownership, especially in urban areas. However, autonomous vehicles also raise serious concerns. Cybersecurity risks, privacy implications of constantly monitored travel, and questions about liability in accidents all remain unresolved. Perhaps most worryingly, if self-driving cars make travel cheaper and more convenient, they might increase rather than decrease traffic. A University of California study found that when people were given chauffeurs to simulate having autonomous vehicles, they took 58% more trips and the distance traveled by their vehicles increased by 83%. Despite early predictions that robotaxis would be ubiquitous by 2020, fully autonomous vehicles remain elusive. Companies like Waymo, Cruise, and Tesla continue testing and refining their systems, but the challenge of handling that final 10% of unusual driving situations has proven extraordinarily difficult. Most experts now expect widespread deployment no earlier than 2025-2030, and some question whether it will ever be achieved without dedicated infrastructure or restrictions on where autonomous vehicles can operate. The autonomous vehicle represents perhaps the most profound potential transformation in transportation since the invention of the automobile itself. By eliminating the need for a human driver, it challenges our century-old relationship with cars and opens possibilities for entirely new mobility models. Whether this technology ultimately delivers on its promise of safer, more accessible, and more efficient transportation depends not just on technical capabilities but on how we collectively choose to implement and regulate it.

Summary

Throughout five thousand years of human transportation history, we see a recurring pattern: new mobility technologies arrive with great promise, reshape society in unexpected ways, and eventually create problems that spawn demand for newer solutions. The wheel's invention around 3500 BCE transformed warfare and trade but remained limited to elites for millennia. Coaches democratized wheeled transport somewhat in the 16th century, while bicycles and trains in the 19th century dramatically expanded personal mobility. The automobile, initially seen as a solution to urban horse pollution, created its own environmental challenges while reshaping cities, commerce, and social interactions in profound ways. Today's emerging technologies—electric vehicles, mobility services, and autonomous driving—may similarly transform our world in ways we cannot fully anticipate. This historical perspective offers crucial insights for navigating our current transportation transition. First, technological monopolies tend to create rigid systems with magnified negative consequences; the dominance of privately-owned automobiles led to sprawl, pollution, and social isolation that might have been mitigated by a more balanced approach. Second, the most destructive impacts of transportation technologies often emerge slowly and invisibly—from the accumulation of horse manure in ancient cities to carbon dioxide emissions from modern cars. Today, as we grapple with climate change and redesign our mobility systems, we should be alert to similarly insidious effects, such as the privacy implications of transportation data collection. By understanding transportation's historical impact on human societies, we can make more informed choices about which technologies to adopt and how to implement them in ways that enhance rather than diminish our communities, our environment, and our individual freedoms.

About Author

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Tom Standage

Tom Standage is a journalist and author from England. A graduate of Oxford University, he has worked as a science and technology writer for The Guardian, as the business editor at The Economist, has been published in Wired, The New York Times, and The Daily Telegraph, and has published five books, including The Victorian Internet[1][2]. This book explores the historical development of the telegraph and the social ramifications associated with this development. Tom Standage also proposes that if Victorians from the 1800s were to be around today, they would be far from impressed with present Internet capabilities. This is because the development of the telegraph essentially mirrored the development of the Internet. Both technologies can be seen to have largely impacted the speed and transmission of information and both were widely criticised by some, due to their perceived negative consequences.Standage has taken part in various key media events. He recently participated in ictQATAR's "Media Connected" forum for journalists in Qatar, where he discussed the concept of technology journalism around the world and how technology is expected to keep transforming the world of journalism in the Middle East and all around the world.-Wikipedia

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