This paper addresses the visual culture of late-19th-century experimental physiology. Taking the case of Johann Nepomuk Czermak (1828-1873) as a key example, it argues that images played a crucial role in acquiring experimental physiological skills. Czermak, Emil Du Bois-Reymond (1818-1896) and other late-19th-century physiologists sought to present the achievements and perspective of their discipline by way of "immediate visual perception (unmittelbare Anschauung)." However, the images they produced and presented for this purpose were strongly mediated. By means of specifically designed instruments, (...) such as the "cardioscope," the "contraction telegraph," and the "frog pistol," and of specifically constructed rooms, so-called "spectatoriums," physiologists trained and controlled the perception of their students before allowing them to conduct experiments on their own. Studying the material culture of physiological image production reveals that technological resources such as telegraphy, photography, and even railways contributed to making physiological facts anschaulich. At the same time, it shows that the more traditional image techniques of anatomy played an important role in physiological lecture halls, especially when it came to displaying the details of vivisection experiments to the public. Thus, the images of late 19th century physiology stood half-way between machines and organisms, between books and instruments. (shrink)

This paper addresses the visual culture of late-19th-century experimental physiology. Taking the case of Johann Nepomuk Czermak as a key example, it argues that images played a crucial role in acquiring experimental physiological skills. Czermak, Emil Du Bois-Reymond and other late-19th-century physiologists sought to present the achievements and perspective of their discipline by way of "immediate visual perception." However, the images they produced and presented for this purpose were strongly mediated. By means of specifically designed instruments, such as the "cardioscope," (...) the "contraction telegraph," and the "frog pistol," and of specifically constructed rooms, so-called "spectatoriums," physiologists trained and controlled the perception of their students before allowing them to conduct experiments on their own. Studying the material culture of physiological image production reveals that technological resources such as telegraphy, photography, and even railways contributed to making physiological facts anschaulich. At the same time, it shows that the more traditional image techniques of anatomy played an important role in physiological lecture halls, especially when it came to displaying the details of vivisection experiments to the public. Thus, the images of late 19th century physiology stood half-way between machines and organisms, between books and instruments. (shrink)

Among the many groups of scholars whose work now illuminates science, technology and medicine (STM), historians, it seems to me, have a key responsibility not just to elucidate change but to establish and explain variety. One of the big pictures we need is a model of the varieties of STM over time; one which does not presume the timeless existence of disciplines, or the distinctions between science, technology and medicine; a model which is both synchronic and diachronic, and both cognitive (...) and social. To that end, this brief paper presents a historical typology of STM from about 1700 to the present by focusing on four ‘ideal’ socio-cognitive types – four knowledge structures which correspond to four sets of social relations. To some extent these are period specific, but they do not have to be – hence, one may hope, the flexibility and usefulness of the model. (shrink)

From the mid-nineteenth century to the Gilded Age, Catharine Beecher and other American social reformers combined natural theology and evangelism to instruct their audiences how to lead healthy, virtuous, and happy lives. Worried about the consequences of urbanization, industrialization, unstable sexual and gender roles, and immigration, these “Christian physiologists” provided prescriptive scientific advice for hygiene and personal conduct based on the traditional norms of white, middle-class, Protestant domesticity. According to Beecher and her counterparts, the biosocial reproduction of ideal American households (...) promised to reverse the degeneration of men and women across the country and to ensure the long-term vitality of their children. Using evidence from Beecher, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and other nineteenth-century writers, I investigate the methods and aims of Christian physiology along with its relationships to natural theology, Darwinian feminism, and other reform movements. I also analyze how Beecher and her successors employed concepts including the machine, the tissue, the cell, and the germ to justify their conclusions about the optimal structure and functions of American society. Overall, I demonstrate how these actors leveraged the body and the family as mechanisms to produce healthy parents, children, and communities for an ailing nation. (shrink)

In America by the 1930s, albino rats had become a kind of generic standard in research on physiology and behavior that de-emphasized diversity across species. However, prior to about 1915, the early work of many of the pioneer rat researchers in America and in central Europe reflected a strong interest in species differences and a deep regard for diversity. These scientists sought broad, often medical, generality, but their quest for generality using a standard animal did not entail a de-emphasis of (...) organic diversity. They chose white rats as test animals for two primary reasons. First, rats develop very slowly. They therefore made features of physiological, neural and psychological development accessible to the experimental method at a time when its application to the phenomena of development remained controversial. Secondly, rats were thought to have unusually strong sex drives. For this reason they became central to the experimental study of sexuality and, in the work of the reproductive physiologist Eugen Steinach, sexual development. Connections among three research institutes that stressed experimental approaches to the study of brain and development demonstrate the importance of the rat's institutional role. As the emphasis on experimentation in the study of development grew, two of these institutes bred rats to provide uniform materials. Eventually, however, their reasons for selecting rats were lost; and the ready availability of a uniform test animal led to a shift in scientists' presumptions about diversity, as the standard rat became a tool for assuring generality. (shrink)

As historian Henning Schmidgen notes, the scientific study of the nervous system would have been “unthinkable” without the industrialization of communication in the 1830s. Historians have investigated extensively the way nerve physiologists have borrowed concepts and tools from the field of communications, particularly regarding the nineteenth-century work of figures like Helmholtz and in the American Cold War Era. The following focuses specifically on the interwar research of the Cambridge physiologist Edgar Douglas Adrian, and on the technology that led to his (...) Nobel-Prize-winning research, the thermionic vacuum tube. Many countries used the vacuum tube during the war for the purpose of amplifying and intercepting coded messages. These events provided a context for Adrian's evolving understanding of the nerve fiber in the 1920s. In particular, they provide the background for Adrian's transition around 1926 to describing the nerve impulse in terms of “information,” “messages,” “signals,” or even “codes,” and for translating the basic principles of the nerve, such as the all-or-none principle and adaptation, into such an “informational” context. The following also places Adrian's research in the broader context of the changing relationship between science and technology, and between physics and physiology, in the first few decades of the twentieth century. (shrink)

Like it or not, a big picture of the history of science is something which we cannot avoid. Big pictures are, of course, thoroughly out of fashion at the moment; those committed to specialist research find them simplistic and insufficiently complex and nuanced, while postmodernists regard them as simply impossible. But however specialist we may be in our research, however scornful of the immaturity of grand narratives, it is not so easy to escape from dependence – acknowledged or not – (...) on a big picture. When we define our research as part of the history of science, we implicitly invoke a big picture of that history to give identity and meaning to our specialism. When we teach the history of science, even if we do not present a big picture explicitly, our students already have a big picture of that history which they bring to our classes and into which they fit whatever we say, no matter how many complications and refinements and contradictions we put before them – unless we offer them an alternative big picture. (shrink)

These three books illustrate some key themes in the history of science and the history of microscopy. First is a new enthusiasm among some historians and philosophers of science to embrace the history of microscopy as an area worthy of study, a recognized area of investigation for the historian and philosopher of science. In so doing these historians have redefined the subject area from the more traditional and much researched history of microscopes, with its emphasis on the technical, to a (...) consideration of the community of practitioners of microscopy and the theoretical contexts in which they carried out their studies. They have attempted to view the practice of microscopy and its practitioners within a conceptual, philosophical, and social context. They have by no means excluded technical considerations, but have argued that those alone can explain neither the rise, flourishing, and apparent decline of microscopy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, nor its resurgence in the nineteenth century. Rather, they have argued that an analysis of microscopy must include social and conceptual considerations in addition to the technical. With these three books we have moved at last from the history of microscopes to the history of microscopy, within the context of the history and philosophy of science. The history of microscopy can now take its place within the larger inter-disciplines of HPS and STS. (shrink)