History of the Human Sciences最新文献

Modern epidemiological methods often elide the distinction between individuals and populations in practice. Health data and outcomes gathered from a population can be, and often are, applied to a specific person, guiding preventive, diagnostic, and therapeutic interventions. This article looks at a key site for the origin of this elision, the Framingham Heart Study, and shows how a novel methodological 'calculator' for individual risk of future disease emerged from what was originally designed as a community-based epidemiological study. The article explains how the methodological transformation of epidemiology and biostatistics was surprisingly driven by methods emerging from outside of traditionally trained epidemiologists, particularly through statisticians trained in non-medical areas of the human sciences, including economics, sociology, and demography. It therefore also explains how and why epidemiologists became far more statistically sophisticated and the field more dependent on statistical methods by the 1970s than they had been in the 1940s.

Margaret Lowenfeld (1890-1973) and Margaret Mead (1901-78) met in 1948. This eventful first meeting in London was the start of a fascinating working friendship, albeit a somewhat uneven one. The two women share particular similarities across their careers, including their positions as women in their respective fields of psychology and anthropology, though Mead was notably more renowned. They also both had substantial and long-lasting relationships with other women. In this article, I draw primarily upon archival resources of interviews with both Mead and Rhoda Métraux conducted about Lowenfeld following her death. In doing so I argue how such material not only reveals the type of relationship between Lowenfeld and Mead, but also raises questions about how lesbian relationships are historically understood. In recognising the queer worlds of these women, it is possible to extend historical thinking about the lesbian relationships they had. Crucially, it also demonstrates what a lesbian feminist historical approach uniquely provides. In addition to this, by likewise recognising myself as a queer feminist, it is possible to reveal the reflexive and emotional queer kinship which extends between historian and subject.

The promises of the Prozac century have fallen short; the number of novel, therapeutically significant medications successfully completing development shrinks every year; and the demand for better treatments constantly grows. Answering these hardships is a renewed optimism concerning the efficacy of controlled psychedelic therapy, a renaissance that has seen the resurgence of a familiar concept: intoxication as model psychosis. And yet, little has been made of where this peculiar idea originates. Why did we come to liken psychosis to intoxication, and why is this an idea we find so hard to shake? Questioning the conventional narrative that identifies the concept as emerging in the mid 19th century, this article seeks to uncover the conceptual foundations underlying what is now intended by 'model psychosis'. This investigation begins with an assessment of both Moreau de Tours's concept of hashish madness in 1845 and Emil Kraepelin's study of artificial insanity in the 1880s-90s. In seeking to contextualize these ideas, this article further considers the deeper historical association between intoxication and psychosis, instead proposing that intoxication represents an originary conception of madness. Bringing this examination into the 19th century, it becomes apparent that perceptions of intoxicants, and intoxication, were immanently participatory in the emerging understanding of psychosis. The contemporary understanding of model psychosis comes into focus when these elements coalesce with the advent of psychological modelling. Ultimately, the goal is not merely to understand how and why model psychosis became thinkable, but to examine how overlooked concepts have engendered new ways of being neuro-psychiatric subjects.

Over the past half-century, modelling has come to play an increasingly important role in cancer research. These representational tools frame perceptions of malignant disease, guide public health responses, and help determine which interventions are necessary. But what makes a cancer model a model? What authority do they have? What stories do they tell? And how do they shape our understanding of disease and bodies? To shed light on these questions, this article explores the long history of cancer modelling in sub-Saharan Africa: a place where malignant disease has often been imagined as different, and where experimentation and improvisation in cancer research and treatment has been rife. Drawing on archival and ethnographic sources, we examine modelling strategies that health professionals have used to generate information about cancer in Africa from the mid 20th century to the present day. Focusing on three different case studies - anatomical models of Burkitt's lymphoma patients, diagnostic models for Kaposi sarcoma, and statistical models of the African smoking and lung cancer epidemic - we meditate on the multiplicity of models and modelling by identifying the epistemic strands that hold these representations together, as well as what sets them apart. In addition to contributing to discussions of how cancer research has taken shape beyond the Anglo-American realm, our article helps expand and complicate our understandings of what a disease model is.

This article examines cinematographic observational studies of infants conducted by a loosely connected group of female psychologists and physicians in the USA from the 1930s to the 1960s. Largely forgotten today, these practitioners realized detailed and carefully planned research projects about infant behavior in a variety of settings-from the laboratory to the well-baby clinic. Although their studies were in conversation with better-known works, such as John Bowlby's research on attachment and René Spitz's films on institutionalized infants, they differed in a close examination of individual characteristics of babies and a critical attitude toward contemporary notions of 'pathological mothering'. In closely following the work of several researchers, including but not limited to pediatrician Margaret Fries (1898-1987), the clinical psychologist Sibylle Escalona (1915-96) and her team members-child psychiatrist Mary Leitch (1914-?) and avant-garde photographer Ellen Auerbach (1906-2004)-and psychologist Anneliese Korner (1918-2010), I argue that their cinematographic works shed a more nuanced light on the landscape of infant research and child psychiatry in the mid 20th century, and open a way for alternative readings of gender, psychoanalysis, and scientific observation at that time.