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)

(1992). A historical ethnography of a scientific anniversary in molecular biology: The first protein X‐ray photograph (1984, 1934) Social Epistemology: Vol. 6, The Historical Ethnography of Scientific Rituals, pp. 323-354.

Thomas S. Kuhn's classic book is now available with a new index.

Taking off from reflections about the relation of biographical writing to fiction, this essay considers the ways in which scientific biography can explore the cultural dynamics of science. The author examines her own experience in using biography to write history of science and refers to several other examples of biographies of eighteenth‐century figures that raise issues specific to the persona of the man of science and his audiences in this period.

There is a crisis of readership for work in our field, as in many other academic disciplines. One of its causes is a pathological form of the professionalism that we so greatly value. “Hyperprofessionalism” is a disease whose symptoms include self‐referentiality, self‐absorption, and a narrowing of intellectual focus. This essay describes some features and consequences of hyperprofessionalism in the history of science and offers a modest suggestion for a possible cure.

Many of the recent advances in the history of science have come from local microstudies, but with the unintended by‐product of a typically “postmodern” fragmentation of knowledge. The question for us post‐postmodernists is how to write a broader “general” history of science—a history for all of us specialists—without losing the advantages of case study. One way, this essay suggests, is to structure case studies around the activities or issues that are common to knowledge production generally: for example, issues of common (...) practices, role and identity, credibility and trust, fairness in participation and reward, and translocal circulation. Such studies would be particular and local yet transcend the singularities of period, place, and discipline. They would facilitate productive contest over the general meaning of science in its diversely varied forms. (shrink)

The production of big pictures is arguably the most significant sign of the intellectual maturity of a field. It suggests both that the field's broad contours, refined over several generations of scholarship, enjoy the approval of practitioners, and that audiences exist with an interest in or need for overviews. The situation is somewhat more complicated in the history of science, since the existence of big historical pictures precedes that of a well-defined scholarly field by about two centuries. Broadly conceived histories (...) of science and medicine were being written in the eighteenth century, when such an all-encompassing vision was central to the claims about the progress of knowledge upon which Enlightenment ideologues set such store. The Plato to Nato style histories, characteristic of the earlier twentieth century, were written largely by isolated pioneers, and while these were used in teaching as the field was becoming professionalized, recent scholars have preferred to concentrate on a monographic style of research. Despite the existence of the series started by Wiley, and now published by Cambridge University Press, it is only in the last ten years or so that more conscious attempts have been made to generate a big-picture literature informed by new scholarship. It is noteworthy that most of this is addressed to students and general readers, although there is no logical reason why it should not tackle major theoretical issues of concern to scholars. My point about maturity still holds, then, since as a designated discipline the history of science is rather new; it is still feeling out its relationship with cognate disciplines. Big-picture histories have an important role to play in these explorations since they make findings and ideas widely available and thereby offer material through which ambitious interpretations can be debated, modified and transformed. (shrink)

This essay examines different approaches to writing the history of science in light of the increased importance of microhistorical studies in the past two decades. It specifically examines the role of microhistory within the history of science and the importance of Thomas Kuhn’s concept of the “normal exception” in early methodological statements about the function of microhistory. It also considers the possibilities for writing archivally based history of science for a general readership as a means of bridging the divide between (...) specialized research within the subfields of the history of science and more general accounts of the nature and growth of science.Attempts to divide anything into two ought to be regarded with much suspicion.—C. P. Snow. (shrink)

Between the 1930s and 1950s, life science had evolved into a sophisticated and expensive scientific enterprise. Under the influence of the Rockefeller Foundation's program of molecular biology, vital processes, especially the properties of proteins, were increasingly probed through systematic applications of tools from the physical sciences. This trend altered the nature of biological knowledge, the organization of research, and patterns of funding for the life sciences, transforming laboratory research into 'big science' — a team activity centered around massive apparatus. The (...) development of the Tiselius apparatus during the 1930s and 1940s serves as an example par excellence of these nascent intellectual and institutional trends. The paper shows that the Tiselius apparatus and the research it spawned represented one of the early collaborative projectes organized around a major laboratory technology. From its inception, design, construction, and early uses the new electrophoresis technology was a joint-effort between Svedberg's group at the University of Uppsala, the Rockefeller Institute, and a few other elite institutions. These collaborations reflected access to resources, and a commitment to a scientific agenda which stressed the physico-chemical approach to biological phenomena. The collaborations were based on the 'protein paradigm' — the view that proteins were the primary determinants of biological specificity. By examining the intellectual programs and the institutional network around the Tiselius apparatus, this paper also underscores the fruitfulness of studying the history of laboratory technology of the life sciences. (shrink)