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The founding figures, advocates and engineers of the early Space Age are frequently hailed as ‘fathers’, ‘forebears’, ‘prophets’, ‘pioneers’, ‘visionaries’ and ‘heroes’, employing hagiographic, gendered and indiscriminate tropes that lack analytical value. Inspired by persona and celebrity studies, this introduction proposes an alternative approach to comprehend the historical significance and historiographical prominence attributed to global ‘rocket stars’ Qian Xuesen (1911–2009) in China, Arthur C. Clarke (1917–2008) in Sri Lanka, Vikram Sarabhai (1919–71) in India, Sigmund Jähn (1937–2019) in East Germany, Ulf Merbold (1941–) in West Germany and Arnaldo Tamayo Méndez (1942–) in Cuba covered in this special issue. Replacing ‘great-men’ hagiography with a theoretically grounded focus on celebrification processes and the making of national patriarchs from without – from person to persona – enhances nuance and reduces cliché in understanding the role technocelebrities played in the production of outer space as a key phantasmagoria of the twentieth century. As these six space personas operated and starred in geographical contexts distinct and distant from the spaceflight superpowers, the special issue advances the notion of a global Space Age as an alternative to the conventional bipolar Cold War variant and offers a foundation for its budding historicization.
Commonly referred to as the ‘father of spaceflight’ and ‘king of rocketry’, Qian Xuesen (1911–2009) is for many Chinese citizens the pre-eminent scientist of the twentieth century. Trained at the California Institute of Technology, he co-founded the Jet Propulsion Laboratory before returning to China in 1955, where he became instrumental in the space programme and the missile industry. This article investigates Qian’s ascent from aeronautical engineer known only within expert circles to China’s face of space. It charts his celebrification, particularly after the Tiananmen Square crackdown, and distinguishes five facets of a rocket star in the making. Transforming Qian into China’s quintessential technocelebrity and transfiguring his persona into the cornerstone of astrocultural production helped propagate spaceflight activities, rendering outer space an imaginable arena for both the state and the public. Yet, as the analysis of a comprehensive body of visual materials, media reports, biographies and obituaries shows, ultimately Qian’s carefully crafted persona is what Ernesto Laclau has termed an ‘empty signifier’. Qian is space, and space Qian, but little else. If historians are to understand the allure and inner workings of the global Space Age, then historicizing the orchestrated rise of non-Western space personas such as Qian Xuesen proves key.
This epilogue considers the approach and conception of this collection, highlighting key analytical strands in the essays while also suggesting possible avenues of further research. It spotlights the global nature of their analysis, which offers one structural framework – individual scientific personas and the often transnational networks which they inhabit – as a possible avenue to imagine a so-called global Space Age. The epilogue also investigates possible frames for further analyses, particularly regarding gender and translation. Men dominate the pantheon of space personas, which, I argue, is a function of the way popular discourses about space travel are still dominated not only by patriarchal and often misogynistic tropes, but also by how we define ‘technology’ itself as essentially a male domain of activity. More broadly, we need further investigation of multiple and gendered erasures involved in the creation of male space personas. Similarly, the kinds of tools, work and strategies the space personas deployed to translate their visions across different social, discursive, cultural and temporal domains require attention. In particular, one can imagine that the afterlife of these personas will be susceptible to change and alteration as their messages, reputations, and principal attachments are continually reshaped by historical change, popular culture, and academic currents.
Arnaldo Tamayo Méndez, the first Cuban, Latin American, and person of African descent to travel to space, has experienced a significant evolution in his persona since his historic flight aboard Soyuz 38 in 1980. This article explores three pivotal phases in this transformation: first, his portrayal in the media as a pioneering Cuban cosmonaut, which positioned him among the socialist elite of the Space Age; second, the controversy regarding the identity of the first Black person in space, which brought renewed attention to Tamayo’s achievements; and third, the ongoing reconfiguration of his image through social-media platforms, allowing for broader engagement with diverse audiences. By applying the principles of persona analysis to a multilinguistic set of historical documents and images related to Tamayo, this study illustrates the malleability of his self-fashioning for different audiences and how it has adapted to reflect changing sociopolitical contexts and the evolving landscape of public representation in the digital age.
East German Sigmund Jähn and West German Ulf Merbold were Germany’s first spacefarers. While their rivalry mirrored the superpowers’ space race in many ways, it differed in a significant aspect: Jähn and Merbold shared a common cultural and historical background. Going where no German had gone before, therefore, was as much a competition of democracy versus dictatorship, and/or capitalism versus communism, as it was about which state represented the ‘better’ Germany. Moreover, this rivalry did not end with the Cold War but reappeared with renewed vigour in the country’s eventual reunification process after 1990. Drawing on national archival and printed sources from all around the world, this article analyses collective projections and competing performances in the making of Germany’s most famous rocket stars, both before and beyond 1990. Discussing individual characteristics, cultural traditions and techno-scientific ambitions, it argues that descent rather than socio-technical prospect proved crucial in designating the progenitor of German space flight.
Of all the many instruments that symbolized scientific endeavour in British India by the end of the nineteenth century, microscopes were among the most iconic, and yet, for both empirical and ideological reasons, their rise to scientific authority was slow and often contested. Moving from recreational use and marginal scientific status in the 1830s, by the 1870s microscopes were becoming integral to colonial education and governance and deployed across a wide scientific spectrum, their expanding use and heightened public presence facilitated by a rich and diverse visual culture. The eventual triumph of the microscope in India cannot be detached from its ongoing entanglement with local issues and agencies, its ascent to medical authority in particular constrained by scepticism about its utility. In this battle of instruments and imaginaries, microscopes – political emblems as well as material objects and scientific tools – pose critical questions about the visibility of science in a colonial context, about evolving techniques of seeing and representation, about the racialization of science and about the individual or collective authority of those who sought empowerment through the lens.
This article explores the emergence of nuclear medicine as a clinical research field in post-war Europe, focusing on the shaping of its disciplinary boundaries in the context of geopolitical divisions. It examines how this speciality was negotiated and established, highlighting the role of international exchanges involving researchers, radioisotopes and technologies. By bringing together physicists, radiologists and internists, nuclear medicine gained momentum in the 1950s, leading to the formation of first dedicated scientific societies, conferences and journals. Physicians working in Austria played an influential role in this identity-building process on the European level. They benefited from the networks of the International Atomic Energy Agency in Vienna, the country’s political neutrality and their early emphasis on thyroid diseases. We argue that nuclear medicine emerged out of scientific-diplomatic practices that unified this diverse field of research while also setting it apart from more established clinical specialities. We will trace how physicians and medical facilities in Austria came into play as partners on both sides of the Iron Curtain and navigated these intertwined diplomatic and disciplinary dynamics, facilitating intra-European cooperation on epistemic, political and social levels.
This article analyses the development of Arthur C. Clarke’s (1918–2008) persona as the ‘prophet of the Space Age’, focusing on its relation with his adopted homeland, Sri Lanka. Unlike many space personas, Clarke was not an astronaut or a political leader, but a writer and advocate for space technology who developed a global reputation as an authority on the future. In 1956, Clarke relocated from his native England to the former British colony of Sri Lanka (then Ceylon). This article examines how both Clarke himself and a wide range of organizations, nations and individuals, including many from Sri Lanka, contributed to the creation of a global ‘prophet’ persona. This includes Clarke’s public life in Sri Lanka, which came to embody the earthbound, satellite-focused space future he promoted. This persona was in turn used to project commercial and moral justifications for space technologies, especially through Western lenses and for Western audiences, but in numerous ways gave Sri Lanka an active role in the global Space Age.
Between 1814 and 1826 four members of the family of Jane Talbot and her cousin William Henry Fox Talbot had an active and varied interest in the study of mosses, which included the collecting, drawing and naming of specimens. This article explores the textures of their developing practice of learning natural history, and considers their activities within the framework of the circulation of knowledge, their reading and skill development, and the networks that supported them. Their social status and connections provided access to the expertise of numerous British botanists, including Lewis Weston Dillwyn, William Jackson Hooker, and James Dalton, placing the family as a locus of knowledge (re)production and transmission. This work illustrates the pedagogical practices of an elite group as they engaged with botany in a domestic setting, and makes suggestions as to their motivations and stimulations, as well as the conditions that maintained or diminished their interest. At a time when mosses were little-studied even by professed botanists, it demonstrates how a family group including many young women filled their leisure pursuits with these small plants, and reveals how an extended family with no previous expertise in formal botany could be actors in early nineteenth-century knowledge exchange.
This chapter surveys one of the most significant enterprises of the Committee of Instruments and Proposals, established by the Board of Longitude following the Longitude Act of 1818. This was the management of a new observatory proposed for the Cape of Good Hope. Several Commissioners of Longitude had direct interests: John Barrow had been administrator and surveyor at the Cape; Joseph Banks advised on maritime surveys there; Davies Gilbert lobbied actively for a southern equivalent of the Royal Observatory. Commissioners successfully negotiated the scheme with the Admiralty and the Colonial Office. Though funds were forthcoming from the Navy, long-distance management proved difficult. The resulting issues reached the Committee and the Board, as did increasing costs of equipment from London’s finest instrument makers. These challenges had not been resolved at the Board’s dissolution in 1828; indeed, that moment coincided with discussions as to the possibility of closing the observatory. The affairs of the Cape Observatory thus reveal both opportunities and challenges in issues of scientific and geographical management in the epoch of empire and reform.
In the first book-length history of the Board of Longitude, a distinguished team of historians of science brings to life one of Georgian Britain’s most important scientific institutions. Having developed in the eighteenth century following legislation that offered rewards for methods to determine longitude at sea, the Board came to support the work of navigators, instrument makers, clockmakers and surveyors, and assembled the Nautical Almanac. The authors use the archives and records of the Board, which they have recently digitised, to shed new light on the Board’s involvement in colonial projects and in Pacific and Arctic exploration, as well as on innovative practitioners whose work would otherwise be lost to history. This is an invaluable guide to science, state and society in Georgian Britain, a period of dramatic industrial, imperial and technological expansion.
This chapter covers the two decades from the first minuted meeting of the Commissioners of Longitude in 1737. During this time, small groups of Commissioners were called together sporadically for ad hoc meetings, principally to agree funding for specific projectors, notably clockmaker John Harrison and longitude veteran William Whiston. Over this initial period, relations with Harrison were cordial and supportive. Despite these promising developments, it was a period in which public opinion gradually reverted to mockery of those seeking the seemingly impossible longitude dream. The chapter seeks to emphasise in addition the value of looking at some of the schemes that more recent authors have dismissed as invalid. This has occurred not only when proposals seem unlikely to modern eyes but also when their authors were partly or wholly motivated by factors such as religion or financial need, and overlooks the reception of those proposals. The books published by Jane Squire are a particular focus, since they contain some of the best records of the Commissioners’ activities and thoughts during the earlier decades.