ArgumentData collections are a hallmark of nineteenth-century administrative knowledge making, and they were by no means confined to Europe. All colonial empires transferred and translated these techniques of serialised and quantified information gathering to their dominions overseas. The colonial situation affected the encounters underlying vital statistics, enquête methods and land surveying. In this paper, two of those data collections will be investigated—a survey on land and a survey on indigenous law, both conducted around 1910 on the Micronesian island of Pohnpei, (...) which had fallen under German colonial influence a decade earlier. Strikingly, there are no enumerators or envoys of the state visiting the doorsteps of Pohnpei. To facilitate the data collection on homesteads, the whole population of the island was called upon to measure their respective plots of land themselves, without resorting to certified land surveyors. The preserved cadastral lists and spreadsheets testify to a rather peculiar contact between the colonizing administration and the colonized peoples. I argue that the production of data made encounters necessary, which are best observed though a methodological focus on data practices. I argue, furthermore, that the Pohnpeians were prompted during the surveys to define their homestead in new terms. This did not only entail new two-dimensional plots but also a new regime of private property. The change in the legal concept can be seen as a continuation of colonial violence by other means, given that it happened in the aftermath of the defeated Pohnpei Rebellion. The argument of the paper is, therefore, that data collection can have formative effects on society, and that measurement and quantified information are often, as Witold Kula argued, a scene of conflict. At its core, the installation of these metric regimes signified a change in patterns of justification, resource management and the unwritten constitution of the Pacific island. (shrink)

This paper analyses the logistics of knowledge in eighteenth-century Anglo-Swedish scholarly collaborative relationships. More specifically, it analyses the making of Thomas Mangey’s Philonis Judaei Opera as a long-distance collaborative project between Mangey and the Swedish scholars Jacob Serenius and Erik Benzelius. The early modern Republic of Letters has commonly been characterised as a collaborative communication system upheld by communitarian norms. This description has however been challenged by several recent studies, which have underlined the commercial aspects of early modern scholarly exchange. (...) Building on such studies, this article highlights how negotiations about the logistics of knowledge circulation – of, e.g. shipping and long-distance financing – were an integral part of early modern transnational scholarly relationships. In the correspondence between the three scholars of 1728–42, we find ample practical details of how they struggled with slow and unreliable regional mercantile infrastructures. The strains of these logistical challenges thoroughly shaped the relationships between the three scholars, and would eventually lead to the collapse of their collaboration. (shrink)

To become aware of the depth of the ecological mutation, one has to criticize the notion of abstract space. It turns out that, in many of his works, Carl Schmitt has found ways to politicize the production of neutral depoliticized space. This is especially true in “Dialogue on New Space.” The dialogue summarizes Schmitt’s earlier works, but it also tries to relate, audaciously, the character of being human with the different conceptions of space entertained by each protagonist of the dialogue. (...) Especially important in the plot is the interpretation of the expression of “unencumbered technology” that Schmitt associates with the destiny of liberalism and the sort of spatial domination ad infinitum that it implies. The final point of the dialogue is that you cannot be really human in the wrong space. The article does not pretend to make Schmitt a thinker of ecology but to extract from his highly peculiar critique of space something that could be useful to help criticize a depoliticized notion of green space. (shrink)

Anglo-Swedish scholarly correspondence from the mid-eighteenth century contains repeated mentions of two merchants, Abraham Spalding and Gustavus Brander. The letters describe how these men facilitated the exchange of knowledge over the Baltic Sea and the North Sea by shipping letters, books and other scientific objects, as well as by enabling long-distance financial transactions. Through the case of Spalding and Brander, this article examines the material basis for early modern scholarly exchange. Using the concept of logistics to highlight and relate several (...) mercantile practices, it examines ways of making scholarly knowledge move, and analyses merchants’ potential motives for offering their services to scholarly communities. As logisticians in the Republic of Letters, these merchants could turn their commercial infrastructure into a generator of cultural status valid in both London and Stockholm. Using mercantile services, scholarly knowledge could in turn traverse the region in reliable, cost-effective and secure ways. The case of Spalding and Brander thus highlights how contacts between scholarly communities intersected with other contemporary modes of transnational exchange, and it shows how scholarly exchange relied on relationships based on norms different from the communalism often used to characterize the early modern Republic of Letters. Thus the article suggests new ways of studying early modern scholarly exchange in practice. (shrink)

How are fundamental constants, such as c for the speed of light, related to particular technological environments? Our understanding of the constant c and Einstein’s relativistic cosmology depended on key experiences and lessons learned in connection to new forms of telecommunications, first used by the military and later adapted for commercial purposes. Many of Einstein’s contemporaries understood his theory of relativity by reference to telecommunications, some referring to it as “signal-theory” and “message theory.” Prominent physicists who contributed to it (Hans (...) Reichenbach, Max Born, Paul Langevin, Louis de Broglie, and Léon Brillouin, among others) worked in radio units during WWI. At the time of its development, the old Newtonian mechanics was retrospectively rebranded as based on the belief in a means of “instantaneous signaling at a distance.” Even our thinking about lengths and solid bodies, argued Einstein and his interlocutors, needed to be overhauled in light of a new understanding of signaling possibilities. Pulling a rod from one side will not make the other end move at once, since relativity had shown that “this would be a signal that moves with infinite speed.” Einstein’s universe, where time and space dilated, where the shortest path between two points was often curved and which broke the laws of Euclidean geometry, functioned according to the rules of electromagnetic signal transmission. For some critics, the new understanding of the speed of light as an unsurpassable velocity—a fundamental tenet of Einstein’s theory—was a mere technological effect related to current limitations in communication technologies. (shrink)

Historians and commentators have long discussed tensions between specialist and lay expertise in the making of scientific knowledge. Such accounts have often described quarrels over the distribution of expertise in nineteenth-century “popular” and imperial sciences. The “crowdsourcing” of science on a global scale, however, arguably began in the early modern era. This essay examines the lists of specimen suppliers, the artifacts of a worldwide collecting campaign, published by the London apothecary James Petiver at the turn of the eighteenth century. Listing (...) suppliers helped Petiver advertise his status as a global specimen broker in the Republic of Letters. However, publicly listing his sources drew criticism over the social character of his collecting project, while lists became synonymous with the debasement of learning in polemics over natural history. (shrink)

At the end of Matters of Exchange , Harold Cook's major revisionist account of the early modern scientific revolution, he locates the political and economic writings of Bernard Mandeville within the practices and values of contemporaneous Dutch observational medicine. Like Mandeville, Cook describes the potency of early modern capitalism and its attendant value system in generating industry and knowledge; like Mandeville, Cook finds coercive systems of moral regulation to be mistaken in their estimation of human capacities; and like Mandeville, Cook (...) does not shy away from the violence that often made the worldwide commerce in matters of fact possible. “Every Part was full of Vice,” famously rhymed Mandeville, “Yet the whole Mass a Paradise.” The practices and values of science, this book suggests, stemmed from the vices of the merchant and the consumer, not the sprezzatura of the baroque courtier, the asceticism of the Christian gentleman, the speculation of the university philosopher, or the dour appraisal of the theologian. Interest, not claims to disinterest, made modern science and its attendant values possible. Scrupulous attention to goods from around the world and right at home created the conditions for natural knowledge. (shrink)

This essay is a think piece that takes a labor and capital perspective on science to discuss two chief concepts: credit and exploitation. Credit, as the symbolic currency of science, has been central to how we understand the moral workings of science in the twentieth century. But our lived experience of changes in the political economy of science also alerts us to the notion that credit may not be applicable to a robust analysis of science in the past and in (...) the present. Scientific exploitation, the evidence of which usually prompts an effort to redistribute credit, may offer only a partial picture of the labor structure of science. Self-exploitation, an implicit understanding of how scientists may approach their work, has never been fully articulated but is nevertheless a useful descriptive notion. (shrink)

While some seventeenth-century scholars promoted natural history as the basis of natural philosophy, they continued to debate how it should be written, about what and by whom. This look into the studios of two Amsterdam physicians, Jan Swammerdam (1637–80) and Steven Blankaart (1650–1705), explores natural history as a project in the making during the second half of the seventeenth century. Swammerdam and Blankaart approached natural history very differently, with different objectives, and relying on different traditions of handling specimens and organizing (...) knowledge on paper, especially with regard to the way that individual observations might be generalized. These traditions varied from collating individual dissections into histories, writing both general and particular histories of plants and animals, collecting medical observations and applying inductive reasoning. Swammerdam identified the essential changes that insects underwent during their life cycle, described four orders based on these ‘general characteristics’ and presented his findings in specific histories that exemplified the ‘general rule’ of each order. Blankaart looked to the collective observations of amateurs to support his reputation as a man of medicine, but this was not supposed to lead to any kind of generalization. Their work alerts us to the variety of observational practices that were available to them, and with what purposes they made these their own. (shrink)

Most studies of René Descartes’s legacy have focused on the novelty of his ideas, but little has been done to uncover the conditions that allowed these ideas to spread. Seventeenth-century Europe was already a small world—it presented a high degree of connectedness with a few brokers bridging otherwise disparate regions. A communication network known as the Republic of Letters enabled scholars to trade ideas—including Descartes’s—by means of correspondence. This article offers an analysis—both qualitative and quantitative—of a corpus of letters written (...) during Descartes’s lifetime and mentioning his name. The aim is to unveil the factors that drove the diffusion of Descartes’s ideas. The results are twofold. First, a close reading of the letters reveals that they were not used to create awareness about Descartes and his works but rather to discuss his ideas. Second, a network analysis of the letters shows that ideas do not spread like viruses, thus undermining the ‘social contagion’ model, and that weak ties are not as effective in promoting innovations as they are in circulating information. (shrink)