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Historians have given much attention to museums and exhibitions as sites for the production and communication of knowledge in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. But few studies have analysed how the activity and participation of visitors was designed and promoted at such locations. Using Francis Galton's Anthropometric Laboratory at the International Health Exhibition in London 1884 as the empirical focal point, this paper explores a new mode of involving exhibition audiences in the late nineteenth century. Its particular form of address is characterized by an ambition to transform the visitors' self-understanding by engaging them with various techniques of scientific observation and representation of social issues. By analysing the didactics of this particular project, I argue that the observational ideal of ‘mechanical objectivity’ and associated modes of representation in this instance became an integrated part of a political vision of self-observation and self-reformation. Thus the exhibit and related projects by Galton not only underpinned a theoretical lesson, but also were part of an effort to extend a complex set of practices among the general public.
In March 1742, British naval officer John Byron witnessed a murder on the western coast of South America. Both Charles Darwin and Robert FitzRoy seized upon Byron's story a century later, and it continues to play an important role in Darwin scholarship today. This essay investigates the veracity of the murder, its appropriation by various authors, and its false association with the Yahgan people encountered during the second voyage of the Beagle (1831–1836). Darwin's use of the story is examined in multiple contexts, focusing on his relationship with the history of European expansion and cross-cultural interaction and related assumptions about slavery and race. The continuing fascination with Byron's story highlights the key role of historical memory in the development and interpretation of evolutionary theory.
Kuhn's Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1962) has been enduringly influential in philosophy of science, challenging many common presuppositions about the nature of science and the growth of scientific knowledge. However, philosophers have misunderstood Kuhn's view, treating him as a relativist or social constructionist. In this book, Brad Wray argues that Kuhn provides a useful framework for developing an epistemology of science that takes account of the constructive role that social factors play in scientific inquiry. He examines the core concepts of Structure and explains the main characteristics of both Kuhn's evolutionary epistemology and his social epistemology, relating Structure to Kuhn's developed view presented in his later writings. The discussion includes analyses of the Copernican revolution in astronomy and the plate tectonics revolution in geology. The book will be useful for scholars working in science studies, sociologists and historians of science as well as philosophers of science.
A self-taught authority on electromagnetic theory, telegraphy and telephony, Oliver Heaviside (1850–1925) dedicated his adult life to the improvement of electrical technologies. Inspired by James Clerk Maxwell's field theory, he spent the 1880s presenting his ideas as a regular contributor to the weekly journal, The Electrician. The publication of Electrical Papers, a year after his election to the Royal Society in 1891, established his fame beyond the scientific community. An eccentric figure with an impish sense of humour, Heaviside's accessible style enabled him to educate an entire generation in the importance and application of electricity. In so doing he helped to establish that very British phenomenon, the garden-shed inventor. Illustrated with practical examples, the subjects covered in Volume 1 include voltaic constants, duplex telegraphy, microphones and electromagnets.
Stephen Michell's 1881 work covers the full range of engines and steam-pumps available for draining mines in the nineteenth century. An expert on contemporary mining technology, Michell co-authored the essays 'The Best Mining Machinery' and 'The Cornish System of Mine Drainage' prior to writing this comprehensive survey. Mine Drainage represents the first attempt to gather in one book information previously located in various journals (and therefore difficult to find), and documentation about engines by their (possibly biased) manufacturers. The book also contains almost 140 illustrations of the diverse pumps and engines discussed. After a short introduction, the material is organised into two main sections, focusing on horizontal and vertical engines. Within those categories it discusses rotary and non-rotary engines, and simple and compound steam-pumps. The book will interest historians of technology, science, engineering, and mining in the Victorian period.
The discovery of gold in the Witwatersrand hills and the Transvaal region of South Africa sparked a rush in the late 1880s. Competition between the British and Boer settlers for access and control of this valuable commodity was one of the underlying causes of the second Anglo-Boer war (1899–1902) in which the British eventually won control of the territory. In this work, published in 1898, the mining engineer and Fellow of the Geological Society of London John Yates outlines the state of the booming industry on the eve of war. He discusses the work of key companies and includes technical specifications and illustrations of the equipment used in the new gold mines, such as the shafts, mills and cyanide works. An appendix by his fellow engineer Hennen Jennings addresses the question of government assistance in subsidising the huge start-up costs of these mining projects.
Richard Lovell Edgeworth (1744–1817) was a noted Irish educationalist, engineer and inventor. This two-volume autobiography, begun in 1808, was completed by his novelist daughter Maria, and published in 1820. Edgeworth's interest in education is evidenced by his reflections about how his childhood shaped his character and later life. Volume 1, written by Edgeworth himself and covering the period to 1781, reveals that his interest in science began early; he was shown an orrery (a moving model of the solar system) at the age of seven. As a young man, Edgeworth attended university in Dublin and Oxford, studied law, and eloped while still in his teens. He experimented with vehicle design, winning several awards, and was introduced by Erasmus Darwin to the circle of scientists, innovators and industrialists later known as the Lunar Society of Birmingham. In 1781 Sir Joseph Banks sponsored his election to the Royal Society.
James Moore Swank (1832–1914) was a US expert on iron and steel, and wrote widely about the industry. In 1873 he became secretary of the American Iron and Steel Association. This second edition (1892) of his influential book on iron manufacture was significantly expanded compared to the 1884 original, with 132 more pages, 15 extra chapters, and revisions throughout the text. Swank aimed to move away from the highly technical approach and European focus that had dominated previous works. Instead, he would emphasise names, dates, facts and results, and give special attention to the growth of the industry in the United States while providing an international context. He includes every country and US state that produced iron. The book is organised chronologically, and provides a fascinating account of the manufacture of iron from the ancient Egyptian period through early modern Britain to late nineteenth-century America.
Charles Wilkins (1831–1913) was a Welsh postmaster and librarian who had a deep interest in local and regional history, especially of the town of Merthyr Tydfil where he lived. He wrote prolifically for many of the local newspapers, and produced histories of the town, Welsh literature, and the region's coal trade before tackling this work, published in 1903, which examines the rise of the iron and steel industries across the region, and gives a lively account of the notable families who were behind this industrial expansion from the eighteenth century onwards. Wales was a hub of steel, iron and tin production, which became much in demand during the Industrial Revolution. Wilkins also considers the workers' lives, devoting space to the riots of 1831, and paints a broad social and economic portrait of Wales at a time of great transition.
Thomas Stevenson (1818–1887) was the son of the engineer Robert Stevenson, and father of the writer Robert Louis Stevenson. Like his brothers David and Alan, he became a lighthouse designer, being responsible for over thirty examples around Scotland. Throughout his career he was interested in the theory as well as the practice of his profession, and published over sixty articles on engineering and meteorology. He was an international expert on lighthouses, and advised on projects in India, China, Japan, New Zealand and Canada. Lighthouse Construction and Illumination, published in 1881, was an expanded version of his Lighthouse Illumination of 1859, and remained a standard text. Many of his improvements in illumination came into universal use. According to his son, as a result of Thomas' work 'the great sea lights in every quarter of the world now shine more brightly'.
Frederick Overman (1810–1852) was a German-born engineer who emigrated to Pennsylvania in the United States and worked in the booming field of iron manufacturing. He wrote that his book, first published in Philadelphia and then in London in 1850, was designed to be of 'practical utility' to engineers working in the industry. It includes 150 woodcuts to illustrate fully the many different aspects of making iron. Overman covers every part of the process, from the mining of iron ore to the variety of forges that were used, and also includes a chapter about the related steel industry. Today this historic engineering text sheds light on nineteenth-century industrial processes on both sides of the Atlantic during the height of Victorian innovation, making it essential reading for scholars, students, and enthusiasts of this period.
James Erskine-Murray (1868–1927) was a Scots expert in wireless technology who studied under Lord Kelvin for six years at Glasgow University before arriving at Trinity College, Cambridge as a research student. He eventually became a telegraphy consultant and published this work in 1907. Its aim was to inform engineers, students, and radio operators about many aspects of a rapidly changing technology. The book covers recent developments of the time, and a whole chapter is dedicated to the issue of transmission. Erskine-Murray also provided a chapter of tables containing data which he calculated himself and which had not appeared in print before. The work stands as a classic in the field of early engineering texts, and offers contemporary students and radio enthusiasts a useful guide to early wireless technology.
Kuhn was part of the vanguard that ushered in the historical turn in philosophy of science which looked to the history of science as a source of data for developing a philosophy of science. This was a monumental change in philosophy of science, marking, if not causing, the demise of positivism. The historical turn had a wider impact, contributing to important developments in the sociology of science, including the rise of the Strong Programme in the Sociology of Scientific Knowledge. In this respect, Steve Fuller (2000) is correct to claim that with the writing of Structure Kuhn unleashed a series of events that were no part of his intentions.
As Structure was subjected to criticism Kuhn changed his view about the relevance of the history of science to the philosophy of science. He came to believe that the key insight that philosophers could gain from the history of science was a particular perspective on science, a historical or developmental perspective. In this chapter, I aim to both trace the path that led Kuhn to this change of view and to clarify what it is that the historical perspective offers us.
In the previous chapter, I indicated that one of the things we need to understand better is how a new theory comes to displace an older theory. In particular, I indicated that we need to develop a better understanding of the social dimensions of changes of theory. I also suggested that sociological studies of science may be illuminating in advancing our understanding of how the process of theory change unfolds. After all, a change of theory not only involves the development of a new scientific lexicon, it also involves the acceptance of the new lexicon in the research community. For this to occur, an accepted lexicon must be abandoned.
In this chapter, I want to begin to investigate how a long-accepted theory gets replaced by a new theory in a research community. I want to start, though, by briefly examining some of Kuhn’s speculations on the process, in particular, his speculations about (1) the role that younger scientists play in the generation of a new theory, and (2) the role that older scientists play in the acceptance of a new theory. Then, I want to review some evidence that suggests that Kuhn’s speculations are mistaken. Finally, I want to examine a particular episode of theory change in the history of science in an effort to develop a better understanding of the nature of the social changes that occur with a change of theory. The object of my study will be the revolutionary change in geology in the 1960s that led to the acceptance of the theory of plate tectonics.
Are there any scientific revolutions? Such a question has been raised by some of Kuhn’s critics. Larry Laudan (1984), for example, argues that no changes in science are aptly described as revolutionary. Laudan claims that given Kuhn’s holistic account of paradigms a revolutionary change involves simultaneous changes in methods, goals, and theories. But, according to Laudan, Kuhn’s holism “leads to expectations that are confounded by the historical record” (84). Laudan argues that all changes in science are continuous enough with the traditions preceding them to make calling any of them “revolutions” inappropriate. The only reason one would be led to believe otherwise, he claims, is if one fails to look at the process of change in sufficient detail. This same criticism, which challenges the very existence of revolutions in science, was also raised earlier by Stephen Toulmin. Writing in the 1960s, Toulmin claims that “students of political history have now outgrown any naïve reliance on the idea of ‘revolutions’ ” (1970/1972, 47). Similarly, he argues, “the idea of ‘scientific revolution’ will have to follow that of ‘political revolutions’ out of the category of explanatory concepts” (47).
My aim in this chapter is to address this criticism. I aim to show that there really are Kuhnian revolutions in science. In an effort to argue my case, I will show how the concept of a Kuhnian revolution provides insight into the change that occurred in early modern astronomy, a change that has come to be called “the Copernican revolution.” In addition to showing that there are in fact scientific revolutions, I will demonstrate the value of the concept “scientific revolution,” and the aptness of Kuhn’s comparison of theory change to radical political changes. This case study is also important because this particular historical episode was important to Kuhn’s own thinking about scientific change. Five years before the publication of Structure Kuhn published a book-length treatment of the Copernican revolution in astronomy. This book was published without the benefit of the detailed account of theory change Kuhn presents in Structure. Consequently, Kuhn’s pre-Structure study of the Copernican revolution is rather unKuhnian in some respects. Further, given that Kuhn revised his understanding of scientific revolutions, it is important to determine the extent to which this episode fits Kuhn’s developed account of revolutionary change, the account articulated in the previous chapter.
Many of Kuhn’s critics think that Kuhn is the philosopher most responsible for emphasizing the impact of non-cognitive factors in science, and thus threatening the rationality of theory choice (see Lakatos 1970/1972; Laudan 1984; Boghossian 2006). Both the sociologists of science who were inspired by his work and many of his philosophical critics regard Kuhn’s view as a form of constructionism. But as Ian Hacking (1999) notes, “constructionism” connotes different things to different people. Many sociologists and historians of science self-consciously approach their subject as constructionists (see Latour and Woolgar 1986; Shapin 1996, 9–10; Golinski 1988/2005). Many philosophers of science, on the other hand, believe that constructionism entails a pernicious form of relativism (see, for example, Brown 1989, 37; Boghossian 2006, 118–22). Hence, for many philosophers of science calling someone a constructionist amounts to a refutation of their view.
In this chapter, I aim to clarify the relationship between Kuhn’s view of science and constructionism. In clarifying the nature of Kuhn’s constructionism, I also aim to clarify Kuhn’s relationship to both philosophy of science and sociology of science.