This article contends that meteorology endured a severe crisis in the USSR in 1972. During a devastating drought this year, meteorology lost its reliability as a science able to forecast the weather many weeks and months in advance. Many professional users turned to an alternative weather forecaster, Anatolii D'iakov, who predicted the weather for the next season by observing the sun. The argument made here is threefold. First, the fundamental reason for the crisis in long-range weather forecasting lies in the disruption of a bond of trust between meteorologists and the government, built on unfulfilled prospects of rapid and sudden, but unrealistic, progress in long-range forecasting to help agriculturalists of the steppe regions. Meteorologists could not fulfil the high expectations put in them. Second, journalists covering rural matters were instrumental in extolling D'iakov's alternative forecasts and in lambasting 'official' meteorology; however, they did not succeed in convincing the leadership to purge forecasters and reorganize meteorology. The meteorologists preserved their autonomy to deal with D'iakov. Third, the article reflects on the consequences of the failure of long-term forecasting for the status of science within Soviet governance and ideology.
As an industrial science, vaccinology is susceptible to changing social, economic and political frameworks. This article reconstructs the history of the birth of the Sabin strains-derived inactivated polio vaccine (sIPV) in China. The development of this nascent vaccine can be attributed first and foremost to the circulation of knowledge and technology in the global polio research network of the 1980s, before the privatization of vaccine manufacturing and the escalation of intellectual-property protections. Tracing correspondence between Jonas Salk and a Chinese scientist, Jiang Shude, and his colleagues, we chart how institutional efforts in search of a profitable product and scientists' motives in pursuing personal careers in the post-socialist reform era led to collaboration on many levels, centered around polio vaccines. In response to recent polio history research, we also emphasize the impact of multiple temporalities of polio dramaturgy on the vaccine manufacturer, as this article demonstrates how the confluence of shifting global polio eradication agendas and contingencies in complex vaccinology undertakings ironically helped to materialize the idea of the sIPV. Finally, stories of vaccines and scientists in China add compelling subplots to the global polio history, which reveals the need to reconsider the politicization of imported technology in broader socialist contexts.A letter dated '3 June 1986' was mailed from Jonas Salk to Jiang Shude (). Jiang had been an unknown vaccinologist working at the Institute of Medical Biology (IMB) in Flower Red Cave in the Western Hills of Kunming, in south-western China. Salk had visited two years earlier to discuss the feasibility of the IMB's proposal to manufacture inactivated polio vaccine (IPV). The initial collaborative plan had come to a halt by the time Salk wrote the letter to Jiang; still, he kindly offered Jiang an opportunity to travel to Bilthoven and then Lyon to learn IPV-related technology with a generous $10,000 grant for his one-year stay in Europe.
The maritime expansion of the early modern period and the discovery of new continents necessitated a profound revision in traditional cosmology, bringing into question the millennia-old practices that were framed around that cosmology. Among these practices was astrology, which in the early modern period reached an unprecedented level of popularity through the development of the printing press. The application of the astrological corpus in tropical and southern latitudes questioned many of the foundational Ptolemaic concepts. At the core of this problem was the reversal of the seasons in the southern hemisphere. Since Ptolemy had firmly grounded the natural explanation of astrological attributes of the zodiac and the planets on the seasonal qualities, their reversal would imply a complete change in the zodiacal and planetary properties. Authors such as Girolamo Cardano, Tommaso Campanella and Athanasius Kircher addressed this matter, but it never became a central point of debate in the astrological literature of the period. However, practitioners in the New World, whose empirical view was very different to that of European authors, reached different conclusions. This problem offers an example of the difficulty in reconciling traditional authority with new knowledge. At the same time, it exposes the sharp contrast between the theoretical perspective of Europe-based authors and the actual experience of astrologers practising in the New World.
The paper examines BBC television programmes that feature museum spaces of science and technology, contextualizing the development of this programme type in the 1950s and 1960s with science (and history-of-science) broadcasting. In 1971, the BBC televised a ten-part series devoted to UK science and technology museums. Within These Four Walls, the central case study, featured episodes filmed at the Natural History Museum, the National Maritime Museum, the Royal Institution and the Science Museum, among others; its televisual tour guides included prominent science broadcasters - Patrick Moore, George Porter and Eric Laithwaite - as well as curators and scholars of the history of science, such as Joseph Needham. The paper explores, using intermediality as an analytical category, how the museological conventions of curated gallery displays and tours have been adapted and transposed to television. In doing so, it reflects on the historiographies that emerge from this intermedial product (a series of televised museum tours), arguing that they should be interpreted in the cultural context of the early 1970s. It concludes that the presentation of historical authenticity through intermedial constructions of place, objects and performances conferred what Thomas Gieryn has dubbed 'truth spots' on history-of-science narratives for audiences.
This article examines a controversy over a nuclear-energy gallery at the Science Museum, London, in the early 1980s. It uses this case to explore the wider politicization of museums at this time, and thus the politicization of the display of science and technology. It argues that cultural changes in train since the 1960s, coupled with a museological turn towards 'social history' as the proper vehicle for exhibiting science and technology, led to the museum becoming newly subject to widespread critical scrutiny. That scrutiny had contradictory effects. On the one hand, it reinforced the image of the museum as a bastion of official culture and knowledge. On the other, it undermined this image, by exposing the ideological nature of the museum's authority. This double movement laid the groundwork for the crisis of confidence that culminated in the 'New Museology' of the later part of the decade. Attending to this controversy thus suggests a need to revise prevailing scholarship on the 'politics of display', which often takes for granted an overly straightforward connection between museums and power.
This introduction to a special issue of BJHS concerned with intermedial approaches to the history of the public culture of science (those that pay attention to the forms of different science media and how they relate to each other) also stands as an argument for such approaches. It amplifies a trend within humanities and social-science approaches to its subject of studying the interactions between science, media and publics as complex historical phenomena - in comparison with evaluative research approaches that seek to make science communication more effective. It argues for the virtues of going beyond most existing scholarship in the field by considering many media together. Drawing on the work of media studies scholars Irina Rajewsky and Klaus Bruhn Jensen, it introduces working definitions of intermediality. It then explores historically the genealogies of intermediality, which emerges as an entanglement of changing disciplines, technological change and media practice. Two brief sections take the example of museum display in this intermedial context with the aim of showing first that museum practice was already intermedial before it was considered to be 'one of the media'. It then concludes by showing how, and in what circumstances, the mediatization of museums came to seem necessary.
Prognosis is an important aspect of any scientific culture. Speculation and imagination about future knowledge, social organization and technology pervade the practice of science and lend it aim and direction (or at least the appearance of direction). This article is about the development of prognosis in the fiction and popular-scientific writing of Jane Webb Loudon (1800-58), a writer familiar within the history of science for her publications in botany and gardening, if not for her romantic novel The Mummy!, one of the earliest examples of the genre later known as science fiction. I argue that Webb Loudon viewed scientific activity as declining and flourishing throughout human history, and that she anticipated the science of her time would 'resuscitate' knowledge and even political structures of past eras (like ancient Egypt). Following the work of Jim Endersby and other historians of science who have worked to reintegrate the role of fiction in our understanding of science culture, I argue that Webb Loudon's efforts to promote and diffuse her understanding of science and its relation to the future (and past) ought be viewed as informing the cultural meaning of science in the nineteenth century.
This paper explores the complex role penicillin played in the relations between Britain, the USA and the USSR between the Second World War and the beginning of the Cold War through the lens of science diplomacy and the category of negotiation. In the post-war years the Soviets tried to acquire know-how on large-scale penicillin production from Britain and the USA. While the USA refused to collaborate, the British strategy was more complex. The British government allowed the Oxford team, which had discovered the antibacterial properties of penicillin, to disclose all the technology and know-how concerning large-scale penicillin production of which they were aware to the Soviets, while simultaneously trying to slow down penicillin research and production in the Soviet Union by controlling the export of certain industrial machinery, Podbielniak extractors, to Eastern Europe. By contrast, the USA put a stop to scientific and technological collaboration with the Soviets, but were less strict about the export of industrial machinery. The different strategies generated tensions between Britain and the USA, and ultimately mirrored both the British fear of an American disengagement from Europe and the American will to protect the interests of their national industry.
The late nineteenth-century animal marketplace was a thriving industry. The growth of empire and the development of new technologies and infrastructure facilitated the global movement of animals. As a result, many more reached Britain, where they were purchased by a range of customers for varying pursuits. Historians have explored the role of animal dealers in facilitating this market, but few have considered the influence of the 'fancy of the private collector' upon the trade. Taking naturalist, museum proprietor and zoo owner Lionel Walter Rothschild (1868-1937) as its case study, this paper explores the ways in which the scientific predilections of those with money and influence shaped the market and business practices of animal dealers, contributing directly to the 'booms in beasts' of the period. However, the retailing of animals involved more than financial transactions. Through an examination of the supply of animals to Rothschild's zoological enterprise, this paper will demonstrate how scientific interests and purchasing power could combine to elevate customers from passive consumers, reliant on the capabilities of the animal dealer, to active collaborators. Working together, wealthy customers and dealers secured the further procurement of material, contributing to the construction of zoological knowledge, whilst also building their professional reputations.
The Avicennan text De congelatione et conglutinatione lapidum had a great influence on the alchemical thought of the thirteenth century. This Latin text disputed both the veracity of alchemy and the possibility of alchemical transmutation by arguing that art is inferior to nature and that the alchemists cannot manipulate a metal because its true characteristics are hidden from our senses; thus an alchemist cannot change something which is unknown to him. Newman's pioneer studies examined the diffusion and impact of the first Avicennan argument on medieval alchemy and he shed light on the art-versus-nature debate. This paper has a twofold aim: on the one hand it aims to further Newman's study by focusing on the second Avicennan argument, which is closely related to the problem of substantial form, and on the other hand it aims to show how the aforesaid problem paved the way for the emergence of corpuscularianism, which flourished during the early modern period. In this regard, it will become clear that the historiographical case of alchemy and its problem of substantial form can serve as an exegetical tool for 'bridging' the Middle Ages and the early modern period with respect to the relation between Aristotelianism and corpuscularianism.
This paper shows how the Greater Manchester Museum of Science and Industry (GMMSI) was shaped by actors' experiences with the history of science and technology. The museum began under the leadership of scientist-historians at the University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology (UMIST) in the 1960s, where it was uniquely positioned to reflect contemporary histories of science, particularly framed around the concept of revolutions. This academic framing converged with long-held civic aspirations for a science museum in the city and cemented Manchester's historiographic position as the 'first industrial city'. Vivian Bowden, UMIST's principal, also explicitly aimed to educate future scientists whom he believed were key to overcoming the region's economic challenges. What is striking in this process is how perceptions of the past and contemporary views were integrated with vehement northern independence and determination to form a 'museum to rival South Kensington'. This paper concludes with the GMMSI's early 1980s relocation to Liverpool Road Station, where the museum became a wholly civic affair, beyond academia. Despite these changes, the belief that the past had a place in the education of future scientists laid the foundations for the later integration of an interactive science centre gallery in the 1980s.
This article examines the scientific legacy of the first Glasgow Botanic Gardens and the part they played in the global circulation of botanical knowledge, from their creation in 1817 to their relocation to the West End of Glasgow in 1841. Located in a thriving industrial city with strong commercial ties to the British Caribbean, the gardens stood at an important crossroads of political and economic interests, scientific discovery, cultural innovation and imperial motives. They were managed by the talented English botanist William Jackson Hooker, who strove to transform them into a training ground for prospective botanists and a leading scientific institution. Yet, like many other botanical establishments of similar stature at the time, the gardens encountered many financial setbacks that hampered their success and threatened the scientific ambitions of Hooker and his peers. This article discusses the extent of the gardens' scientific contribution within and beyond the borders of Britain and seeks to determine the degree to which science in these gardens was constrained by economic factors.
Today, the story of the opium trade is an almost archetypal representation of the social, economic and military power dynamics at play in the colonial world. But few, if any, are aware that the European encounter with Chinese opium smoking spurred a European interest in opium vapour therapy, or that its spirited uptake in European medicine inspired a research programme that spanned the continent for more than half a century. Opium smoking was intoxicating, something which experimental science suggested should be impossible, since the chemical properties of opium's active alkaloids all but precluded the possibility of vaporization. Recalling opium smoking's entrance into medical practice and the subsequent experimental interest in the chemical constitution of opium vapour, this paper reconstructs the history of European 'opium science'. In doing so, it realizes opium science as the site of competing definitions of the biomedical reality implicated in the experience of opium intoxication, one centred on the intoxicated experiences of the colonial subjects themselves. Far from being a simple story of exchange between centres and peripheries, it examines the polycentricity of knowledge circulation in the colonial world and the implacable agency of intoxication.
In 1934 C.V. Raman, Nobel Prize laureate in physics, founded the Indian Academy of Sciences in an attempt to create a single unified national scientific society for India. Instead, due to actions of Raman, the Royal Society and other British and Indian scientists, three distinct Indian science academies emerged and have persisted to the present day. Taking place against a background of British imperialism, Indian nationalism and scientific internationalism, Raman's actions provide a fascinating case study of scientific production and the shaping of scientific networks in (British) India. This paper scrutinizes this hitherto unexplored late imperial stage of the Indian scientific landscape and highlights the versatile role of British imperialism in influencing the founding and functioning of the Indian Academy of Sciences under Raman. The latter's national and international career and leadership testify to a complex relationship where the personal and the political became intertwined with science in (British) India.
The study of the history of science is widely understood to be undergoing a profound and much-needed transformation, from a subject focused on Europe to one encompassing the entire world. Yet the aims of the field have always been global. During the decades after the Second World War the inevitable progress of Western science was seen as the key to its role in world history. From the 1970s the rise of cultural history and laboratory ethnographies undermined this assumption. Indebted to colonial anthropology, these approaches revealed that the power of science was not inherent, but the result of local and contingent processes. Explanation needed to be symmetrical in analysing practices of all kinds wherever they were found, from economics and divination in West Africa to supernatural healing and particle physics in the American heartland. The geographical and conceptual broadening of the field is thus a long-delayed outcome of developments extending back many decades. It also means that references to the 'global' in history of science - even more than elsewhere in the humanities - continue to resonate with the universalizing aims of the natural and social sciences.
The inaugural lecture, or oration, delivered by Regiomontanus at the University of Padua in 1464 is deemed a document of remarkable significance in the history of science. Although it has attracted much scholarly attention, few efforts have been directed towards identifying the traces of Byzantine influence it might carry; that is to say, the extent to which Regiomontanus might have been influenced by the views of his patron, Bessarion. This paper responds to the need for such a study, arriving at the following conclusions. First, Regiomontanus's praise of astrology is in line with Bessarion's reaction to the official decisions taken against astrology in Constantinople at the Council of 1351 - decisions which were ultimately rooted in the hesychast controversy and in the confessional struggles between the Churches of Constantinople and Rome. Second, the legitimation of the Graeco-Arabic roots of astronomy in an institutional context, as undertaken by Regiomontanus, is in accordance with the intellectual influences Bessarion had absorbed in his youth in Constantinople. Third, contrary to some claims, it is likely that Regiomontanus does not adhere to a humanist anti-Arab agenda; rather, his views on the history of mathematics are a consequence of the Graeco-Arabic heritage of his patron, and of his lack of access to Arabic translations.
In this paper, we dissect how different regimes of labour were crucial to the success of the British and Brazilian expeditions which observed the 1919 total solar eclipse in Príncipe and Sobral. We connect regimes of labour with degrees of invisibility and discuss plausible justifications for various absences/presences in the written records. We discuss reasons for the inclusion of Cottingham, the artisan-technician expert on clockwork mechanisms, into the teams; the entanglements of forced labour with scientific and technical work in Príncipe; and the various regimes of labour in place at Sobral. We argue that the impact of various regimes of labour in Príncipe and Sobral cannot be confined to the provision of infrastructural support, but include critical location choices, the possibility of scientific success during the observations themselves, and the processing of plates following observations.
This paper explores the potential offered by a cinematographic approach to the study of museums, particularly science centres. By setting up an intermedial lens that maps between the museum medium and film - particularly the visitor experiences in museums onto a specific genre of museum film - correspondences between these media and their respective 'grammars' are analysed. After a brief overview of the relationship between museums and film in the twentieth century, a language of documentary film suitable for museum film is introduced based on the film theory of Jon Boorstin, who also directed a film on the Exploratorium in San Fancisco, which adapted post-war insights in communication design as developed by the Eames Office. Reviewing five documentaries about the Exploratorium shows that only Boorstin's museum film could adequately convey the museum experience to others, thus going beyond intermediality to enable a transmedial transfer. How this film emerged through the cooperation of the Exploratorium with the Eames Office and national funding agencies is presented in some detail in order to show that the intermedial lens can work both ways, allowing for the transmedial application of film analysis to the museums themselves.
Arguing about the stars has rarely been more controversial and dangerous than in the early modern period in Europe, especially in Catholic countries, in a time when old and novel conceptions of the heavens, planetary models and theories of celestial motions and influences were intensely debated, revised and scrutinized for philosophical soundness and religious conformity. In the hundred years or so that witnessed the birth and censorship of the Copernican theory; the execution in Rome of the most passionate defender of post-Copernican cosmology, Giordano Bruno (1548-1600), and the rise and fall of Galileo Galilei's (1564-1642) fame linked to his novel interpretation of the book of nature, the Catholic Church created some of the most powerful instruments of cultural control and educational conformity ever seen: the Inquisition, the Index of Forbidden Books and the vast network of Jesuit schools that spread from Rome and the Iberian peninsula across the globe.
In the latter half of the eighteenth century, British civil engineers strove to enhance their status and assert the identity of their developing profession. Alongside associational and visual cultures, one means of achieving a sense of community was through the formation of a shared literary culture. As a profession notorious for what Torrens described as 'papyrophobia', it is perhaps surprising that many engineers, in this period, read widely and wrote extensively. John Smeaton (1724-92), for example, valued good authorship and experimented widely with literary form. James Brindley (1716-72), his contemporary, wrote sparingly, but nevertheless generated a literary strategy in support of his projects. Other engineers, such as John Phillips (fl. 1785-1813), made use of their engineering background and of engineering literature to create alternative careers. By exploring how mid- to late eighteenth-century engineers wrote, in order to persuade and to educate others as well as to publicize, record and defend their professional decisions, this paper will show how their reputations were dependent on literary constructions as much as on physical ones.