Historical Records of Australian Science最新文献

In the first 27 years of the Central Australian Laboratory (CAL), to 1980, research focussed almost entirely on the needs of the pastoral industry. By the 1980s, ongoing campaigns for Aboriginal land rights and demands to conserve biodiversity plainly showed that there were other land uses deserving research attention. Initially CAL’s research agenda expanded to include conservation in spinifex grasslands and grazing lands but remained biophysical in nature. It subsequently became clear that people’s roles in decision-making about land use and management should be part of research. By the 2000s, scientists were able to build trusting relationships with Aboriginal people and organisations and undertake collaborative studies to improve livelihoods and wellbeing on country. Over the 38 years from 1980 to 2018, CAL’s research activities responded to diverse societal expectations but it was not enough to prevent the laboratory’s eventual closure as public investment in rangelands dwindled.

CSIRO’s research in the arid zone was initiated after World War 2 when a strong push to develop the sparsely populated and isolated region of northern Australia was promoted as being in the national interest. This impetus had social and political origins but implementation depended on scientific insights into regional ‘potential’, which was couched at the time in terms of agronomic and pastoral use. Ray Perry was a key figure in early land resource surveys of the region and later a key motivator for, and supporter of, research in the arid and semi-arid rangelands of Australia. His commitment was fundamental to the establishment of CSIRO’s Central Australian Laboratory. Pastoral land use and improving the land for that purpose were the primary concerns when CSIRO’s presence in Alice Springs was established in 1953. From an initial focus on ‘making the desert bloom’, in particular making the vast spinifex grasslands more ‘useful’, the focus of research shifted to maintaining the productivity of country preferred by cattle and establishing methods for monitoring its health. It was not until the 1970s that Aboriginal and conservation land management appeared in the laboratory’s research agenda, somewhat intermittently, in response to important social and political changes in the wider Australian community.

On the 100-year anniversary of the Australian Coral Reef Society (ACRS), previously known as the Great Barrier Reef Committee (GBRC), we provide an overview of ACRS activities throughout its history, with a detailed account of key milestones in the last 40 years. We outline how the ACRS as promoted the protection and conservation of reefs, through expert advice, reviews, and submissions to enquiries. Examples are provided under the following themes: ACRS consultancy on zoning the Great Barrier Reef (GBR) Marine Park, marine protected area design, water quality on the GBR, port expansions along the Queensland coastline and environmental reform for the offshore oil and gas industry. We illustrate how scientists over recent decades have worked to better understand and encourage policy responses to the impacts of climate change on Australia’s coral reefs. For a hundred years, the GBRC-ACRS has provided an avenue for Australian coral reef scientists, managers and conservationists to influence reef governance through policy. While these unique avenues for delivering timely and targeted expertise have helped to reduce proximate threats to reefs at local scales, their outcome in relation to climate change, arguably the largest threat to Australia’s coral reefs, remains to be seen.

This article summarises the careers of ten women who have made an amazing contribution to our knowledge of Australian coral reefs and their management, and how this contribution has been used by the Great Barrier Reef Committee (subsequently the Australian Coral Reef Society) to conserve and manage our reefs—an ongoing process in the face of climate change.

Ilse Rosenthal-Schneider (1891–1990), a refugee immigrant to Australia in 1938, was a student of Nobel Prize-winning physicists, Einstein, Planck, and von Laue. She combined a background in physics, especially relativity theory, with a philosophical focus on the nature and possibilities of knowledge. As well as working at the University of Sydney to teach science students how to recognise philosophical issues in their subjects, she drove a major outreach programme to regional towns in New South Wales, where she was fêted by her audiences as a highly accomplished science communicator. Her best-known book, published in 1980, examined her interactions with Einstein, Planck, and von Laue by expanding on how all of them understood the relationship between science and philosophy. Rosenthal-Schneider never achieved a great deal of recognition, due in part to the limited opportunities for women of her era, but also due to her insistence on bridging disciplines and engaging in a scientific and philosophical dialogue beyond academia. We will show how Rosenthal-Schneider explored the borderlands of science and philosophy throughout her life, as she argued for the relevance of philosophical questions to practising scientists and non-academic publics in Australia.

Scales and spring balances have been part of the equipment of polar expeditions since the explorations of the nineteenth century, but precision beam balances have also been included, specifically, those made by the London instrument firm of L. Oertling. In this paper, the reasons for taking such delicate instruments into such adverse conditions are discussed, as well as some of the logistical and practical problems involved in their transport, storage, and probable use.

The post-war era of the 1940s is known for the birth of global governance, a time when Western nations united in efforts to reconstruct the war-torn world and reflected on the role of science in society. History and philosophy of science (HPS) was one of the early projects that emerged out of the war years. Diana (Ding) Dyason who headed the first HPS department in the southern hemisphere is honoured by this annual lecture, the text of which constitutes this article. Thomas Kuhn’s influential lecture in Oxford in 1961 inspired her work on the history of scientific entanglement with social concerns, and the directions of HPS at the University of Melbourne. Post-war reconstruction was both a local and a national project for every nation, very much in the air in the 1940s, and influential until the 1970s. The Australasian Association of Scientific Workers (AASW) brought together scientists too old to serve, or, in reserved occupations, to undertake their own ‘war effort’ on the question of: ‘What comes next?’ AASW held a planning conference in Sydney in 1944 to ‘formulate a policy on the organisation of science necessary to meet the demands of post-war Australia’. They set out to consider the role of the ‘the scientific method’ in the welfare of society. In particular, they recognised their existing international scientific networks and connections could become valuable for post-war collaborations between different sciences and different nations of benefit to Australia and the world. The idea of ‘the environment’ was one of many that emerged internationally in these ‘world-minded’ times, an idea that focused on the management of nature for the benefit of people using the scientific method. National Parks were a crucial discussion point, bringing together amateur naturalists and professional environmental managers of all sorts in discussions about landscape planning along with international comparative work on reserving places for wild animals and plants. This Dyason Lecture explores the emergence of ‘integrated science’, of science in the service of society, that later included natural resource management, big science, environmental science, earth systems science and climate science. It begins with the tragedy of the ‘dirty thirties’, when soil was in the air, and the scientific response to concerns about feeding the world.

Geoffrey Burnstock was a biomedical scientist who gained renown for his discovery that adenosine 5′-triphosphate (ATP) functions as an extracellular signalling molecule. Born in London and educated at King’s and University Colleges, he did postdoctoral work at Mill Hill and Oxford. He moved in 1959 to the Department of Zoology at the University of Melbourne because he sensed there a greater freedom to challenge established thinking in physiology. His group found that transmission from sympathetic and parasympathetic autonomic nerves to smooth muscle was in some places not mediated by the accepted chemical messengers (noradrenaline and acetylcholine). He amassed evidence that ATP was this non-adrenergic, non-cholinergic (NANC) transmitter, using biochemical, histological and electrophysiological approaches: heretically, he styled this ‘purinergic transmission’. Geoff further upset dogma in the 1970s by proposing ‘co-transmission’ in which some nerves released ATP in addition to either noradrenaline or acetylcholine. He distinguished pharmacologically P1 receptors (activated best by adenosine and blocked by xanthines) and P2 receptors (activated best by purine nucleotides such as ATP) and he proposed in 1985 that the latter embraced P2X (ion channel) and P2Y (G protein-coupled) subtypes: about ten years later these categories were substantiated by cDNA cloning. From 1975 until his retirement in 1997, Geoff was head of Anatomy and Embryology at University College London (UCL), which he developed energetically into a large and strong research department. Later, as head of the Autonomic Research Institute at the Royal Free (part of UCL), he continued to collaborate extensively, and founded several journals and international professional societies. He widely sought clinical benefit for his discoveries, and both P2X and P2Y receptors have been developed as the targets of useful therapeutics (gefapixant, clopidogrel). Geoff was proud of his modest, rather humble, background and eschewed formality. He may have smiled when his early discoveries were met with cynicism, even ridicule (‘pure-imagine’ transmission noted one amusing critic), but this just reinforced his resolve and encouraged his encyclopaedic oeuvre.

By the late 1880s, the existence of alkyl derivatives of metals such as zinc and mercury was well established but diethyl magnesium had been poorly characterised and obtaining proof of its existence was a reasonable aim for chemists. Professor David Orme Masson and his student, Norman Wilsmore, at the university in the British colonial capital, Melbourne, accepted the challenge despite their distance from northern hemisphere centres of chemical research. The ‘tyranny of distance’ was tempered by their access to chemical journals and textbooks and by Masson’s connections at the ‘centre’, notably with William Ramsay. Wilsmore repeated the earlier experiments and also used methods that had been successful with other metals, but was unable to prepare diethyl magnesium. Masson rationalised this failure on the basis of the element’s position in the periodic classification of the elements that Mendeleev and Lothar Meyer had published, and on magnesium’s position on the atomic volume curve of Meyer, and concluded that diethyl magnesium could not exist. The weakness of these arguments was revealed when, near-coincidentally with Masson’s and Wilsmore’s publication of the results of their experiments, Philippe Löhr, working in Meyer’s laboratory, published successful syntheses of several alkyl magnesium derivatives by methods that had been unsuccessful in Wilsmore’s hands. Masson’s heuristic use of Meyer’s curve was unusual, and a notable feature of his approach to chemistry.