History of Science最新文献

In the 1980s, the archaeologist Merrick Posnansky implored Africa-trained scholars to investigate the Caribbean and use their training to reframe the construction of the African diasporic experience. This paper is based on research that responded to Posnansky's challenge. Employing archaeology, community-based fieldwork, oral traditions, gender analysis, and archival sources on both sides of the Atlantic, the paper explores the history of African metallurgy, including the author's personal research experiences in West Africa and the Caribbean. It argues for incorporating the knowledge and skills of African people into a global history of iron technology. It demonstrates how the spatial and social characteristics of iron smelting and refinement have implications for the unfolding of late eighteenth-century forging in Jamaica and industrial growth in other parts of the Atlantic world. While ideas and knowledge operated in the meanings and metaphors found within both material and unseen realms, the eventual reconceptualization of this intertwined past must remain grounded in claims that can be supported by evidence. Connecting kitchens and crucibles, the study argues for an extended family of technological history. Just as understanding the global history of iron production requires attention to Africa, the inverse is simultaneously true: Africa and its history are firmly integrated in global history, including the history of the industrial revolution.

This article investigates why Humboldtian Science, as a heuristic concept, has gained prominence in the historiography of science and requires clarification. It offers an ideal-type model of comparative research and exact measurements across vast spaces, which Susan F. Cannon and others tied to Alexander von Humboldt (1769-1859). Yet, he himself was less "Humboldtian" than this concept suggests. The article proposes to disentangle Humboldtian Science from Humboldt's science, which constituted a set of individual research practices that defied the ideal of precision. Humboldt's science was often impromptu, marked by epistemological and personal insecurities, and embedded in the protagonist's peripatetic way of living and frequently erratic writing style. Historicizing Humboldt's science undermines the exceptionalism that elevates the Prussian savant above his contemporaries and casts him as a singular figure. This critical reflection encourages biographical approaches to the history of science, balancing heuristic generalizations and attention to individual research styles.

This paper examines the intersection of environmental history and the history of science, specifically the impact of forestry science and fire management on land use and community dynamics in rural Portuguese mountains. It further traces the evolution of fire management from an ancestral rural practice to a scientific concern and the subsequent integration of vernacular knowledge with scientific methods. In the early twentieth century, fire was a common tool in rural Portugal for land clearance, pasture management, and soil enrichment. Rooted in local knowledge, these practices were increasingly challenged by the rise of scientific forestry, which viewed fire primarily as a threat to be controlled. By the mid-twentieth century, Portuguese forestry policies had undergone a significant shift toward aggressive fire suppression and large-scale afforestation, reflecting a broader trend of prioritizing timber production and forest protection. Notable shifts occurred in the 1970s, marked, among other factors, by the increase in rural fires, a new socioecological vision for the forest and the introduction of prescribed fire techniques influenced by international models. The paper argues that the establishment of scientific fire management practices represents a merging of expert knowledge with local experience. This move represents a shift from exclusionary policies toward a more nuanced understanding of fire's role in landscape management. An examination of these historical developments demonstrates the intricate interrelationship between science, the environment, policy, and local practices, illustrating the way knowledge systems both shape and are shaped by environmental governance.

In the mid-nineteenth century, the house sparrow (Passer domesticus) was introduced to the United States, quickly spreading across the country. For a brief period in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the observation of sparrow behavior was something of an urban pastime. Traits such as intelligence, reason, persistence, and craftsmanship were conferred onto sparrows by American urbanites. This paper argues that sparrow intelligence was often conflated with domestication: the ability of the birds to adapt to living alongside humans. Praise for the ingenuity of sparrows generally revolved around their nest building, particularly when such structures overcame the challenges posed by urban infrastructure and technology. Sparrows were far less praiseworthy when they caused electricity outages or contaminated water supplies. The sparrow in the United States demonstrates how the relationship between these anecdotes and their implications for animal minds was mediated by the technology and infrastructure of cities. Admirers of sparrows were not measuring the birds' mental capacity, but rather their ability to adapt to human habitations. Sparrows were only granted intelligence once they had demonstrated their ability to become domesticated.

This article examines the rise and decline of the enthusiasm for intelligence testing in early twentieth-century China, focusing on the appeal, the challenges, and the critiques revolving around this psychological instrument. The introduction of intelligence testing reflected not only China's urgent needs in modernizing its merit system, but also Chinese psychologists' aspirations for pursuing exactitude and redefining the racial characteristics of their compatriots against foreign interpretations. But despite psychologists' endeavors, the political and geographical fragmentation of Republican China troubled the epistemic imperative of uniformity demanded by Euro-American psychometrics and therefore undermined the validity of measurement. Subsequently, the legitimacy of intelligence testing began to be questioned by several influential Chinese psychologists in the late 1920s and 30s. The difficulties in standardization and the hostility within the psychology community formed a vicious cycle, impeding the progress of nationwide testing. Through this history, the article demonstrates not only the elevation of measurement to epistemic authority in modern China, but also how its promise was challenged by a diverse and rapidly changing society.

This article uses medical textbooks and advice literature to analyze the persona of the physician in the early German Enlightenment. The article pursues three lines of argument. First, it uses medical textbooks to situate the physician in the context of early modern observational life, focusing in particular on epistemic virtues, techniques, and technologies for conducting and documenting observations. Second, it introduces the concept of epistemic advantage to analyze the ways in which medical advice literature - ranging from ideal accounts of the political physician to satirical portrayals of the Machiavellian physician - mediated strategies for using medical knowledge to shape people's conceptions of disease as well as of the physician as a medical authority. Third, it launches the concept epistemic contestation to capture situations of distrust and dispute, in which the physician's authority was challenged both by patients and by other medical practitioners. Such mediation of epistemic virtues, techniques, technologies, and strategies in medical textbooks and advice literature must be understood in relation to an emerging media landscape that fundamentally affected the conditions for cultivating and performing a medical persona. By adopting this comprehensive approach to medical personhood, the article appeals to readers interested in early modern and Enlightenment medicine as well as those concerned with the broader intersections of medical persona, authority, power, and knowledge.

Between 1935 and 1942, a total of 130 men, aged seventeen to twenty-four, mostly of indigenous Hawaiian heritage, colonized Howland, Baker, and Jarvis Islands for the United States, in rotation, over the course of twenty-six expeditions. As part of the American Equatorial Islands Colonization Project (AEICP), they compiled meteorological data, observed and recorded the natural life of their surroundings, collected specimens for the Bishop Museum in Honolulu, mapped the islands, and built a landing strip on Howland for Amelia Earhart. In doing so, they confirmed U.S. possession of the islands, its imperial and military power in the Pacific, and helped establish aviation routes in the South Seas, all of which assisted American efforts during World War II. At the time, the AEICP colonists did not know the role they were playing in this larger project. While some thought they were recruited as part of the museum's scientific research, others were under the impression that they were stationed on the islands to contribute to commercial air travel. This article will examine the AEICP's scientific framework, how it was deployed as a pretext for larger military and imperial goals, and the ways in which it is an example of the hidden or invisible labor of science that dominated the interwar years, World War II, and the Cold War era. Moreover, it will also expose the underlying scientific racist hierarchy of the AEICP wherein the colonists themselves were classified as "types" and "specimens" to be studied.

The nineteenth century is often remembered as the age in which steamships and steam locomotives connected the globe with a speed and efficiency previously unseen. Although contemporaries frequently equated the use of these rapid-transportation technologies with the progress of civilization, their expansion also had some negative consequences. Among these was the more rapid and widespread diffusion of many diseases along transportation corridors as nonhuman stowaways on ships and trains. Most infamously, cholera extended its reach globally by appropriating and using modern transportation routes in ways that were unintended and disastrous for their human creators. This article goes beyond the technological optimism of the time, and its now widely accepted pitfalls, and expands the scope of Anatolian provincial modernization to incorporate a complex web of interactions between human and nonhuman agents in the context of technological use and nonuse. It argues for a complex cocreation of modern conditions between these agents, rather than seeing these conditions as solely produced by human actions or environmental limits. Among the different human agents, interaction greatly increased between Ottomans and European states and their citizens. As the Ottoman Empire became increasingly integrated into global transportation and economic networks, it also experienced the spread of cholera. In the Anatolian interior, cholera epidemics spread along the railroad. I examine the 1893 cholera epidemic in Eskişehir, an important junction town on the Ottoman Anatolian Railroad, which had just begun operation the previous year. The railroad was widely celebrated for its intended uses: tremendously increasing the speed and transportable volume of cargo and enabling travel for military and nonmilitary purposes. The cholera epidemic, however, was enabled by the unwitting use of the railroad lines as conveyors of sickness and death. Furthermore, human attempts to stop cholera's spread by interrupting train service undermined the technology's intended uses but also demonstrated the availability and potential effectiveness of nonuse as an option.

There existed a tradition of mimetic experimentation in the late nineteenth century, whereby morphologists sought to scale down sublime natural phenomena to tabletop devices in the laboratory. Experimenters constructed analogs of the aurora, attempting to replicate the colors and forms of the phenomenon with discharge tube experiments and electrical displays, which became popular spectacles at London's public galleries. This paper analyses a closely allied but different kind of imitation. Between 1872 and 1884, Professor Karl Selim Lemström (1838-1904) attempted to reproduce the aurora borealis in all of its complexity atop four mountains in northern Finland. Crucially, his "artificial aurora" was to materialize at the same scale as the original phenomenon and in its natural habitat in the polar atmosphere. With his experiment Lemström hoped to uncover the workings of the aurora and the electrical currents that he believed were always present within the atmosphere; his epistemological framework was one of learning by making. This paper sheds light on the broader problem of what it meant to authentically replicate a phenomenon that remained largely enigmatic, and, most importantly, how this replication could be verified. This prompts a discussion as to whether model experiments needed only to appear visually similar to the objects they purported to imitate, were required to preserve their form, or needed to be materially identical in order to the original to be identified as legitimate "reproductions" in the late nineteenth century.

This special section on technology-in-use in the last decades of the Ottoman Empire strives to strengthen the dialogue between historians of the late Ottoman Empire and historians of technology interested in the way technologies were appropriated, domesticated, and used beyond the great centers of technological innovation, with a special emphasis on all kinds of users, including nonhuman ones. The ruling elites of this multiethnic and multireligious land empire strove to instrumentalize new inventions and techniques to improve the empire's geopolitical standing, but in an era marked by interimperial competition, by the rise of nationalism, and by the global expansion of capitalism, the circulation, appropriation, and use of these innovations and techniques proved far beyond their control. From steamships and railways to electricity, the focus is on the ways technologies were appropriated and used in the Ottoman Empire, how they were integrated into the everyday lives of the people, and how they shaped and were shaped by profit-making and political agendas, which reveals the rapid and enormous impact of new technologies on peripheral regions of the world.