This article examines Charles Bell’s experimental practices by drawing historiographical attention away from the priority disputes over the spinal nerve functions for which he was most famous. I argue that Bell’s primary research interest was the expression of emotions. To this end, he developed a programme of vivisection that explored the underlying mechanisms of emotion. However, this also resulted in a profound contradiction between his experimental practices and his worldview – conducting painful experiments on beloved animals despite moral revulsion towards animal experimentation. This opens up three interconnected areas. Firstly, it allows an exploration of disciplinary identity in medicine, particularly the way that disciplines demanded specific practices and behaviours. Secondly, vivisection more generally required methods and ethics that opposed the growing anti-cruelty voice. Here, a combination of animal choice and the importation of techniques from the slaughterhouses was critical. Thirdly, vivisectors navigated a complex emotional landscape between their professional obligations and broader cultural sensibilities. These three areas are linked together using Boddice’s concept of moral economies, the affective frameworks that structured feelings. Particularly important were the sentimental and Romantic economies, both of which impacted Bell and his research. At the same time, Bell always struggled to reconcile the tensions between his disciplinary identity and his sentimental and Romantic beliefs, ultimately leading him to abandon experimentation after his assistant John Shaw’s death. I conclude by identifying the guarantees provided by character for licensing ostensibly cruel behaviours, thus allowing for the maintenance of probity within competing moral economies.

The 1896 Bombay plague outbreak prompted the colonial government to recruit trained British nurses from England to serve the afflicted Indians of the Presidency. Studying this relatively under-explored aspect of British colonial nursing, this paper examines the politics of representation of the Western, non-military nurses serving the colonised Other through nineteenth-century periodical accounts and personal letters of a nurse stationed in Bombay. Owing to the popularity of British periodicals and the significant role they played in shaping public debates in the Metropole, periodical plague literature portrayed Western nurses as spokespersons for the Empire’s benevolent rule in Bombay. Contrarily, the intimacy and confidentiality of letter-writing allowed nurses to offer a more nuanced and critical account of life and work in Bombay. The paper contends that the non-military Western nurse’s medical career, mobility, and financial stability framed her multidimensional identity, which was further defined by the intersecting issues of race, class, gender and culture she encountered in Bombay. Comparing their varied portrayals in the periodicals and the letters, the paper argues that the politics of representation of women’s lives were influenced by both their sociopolitical subjectivities and the narrative forms through which they articulated their experiences.

Literature about the discovery of the leprosy bacterium Mycobacterium leprae usually mentions the Hansen-Neisser controversy. It is an established narrative that Neisser tried to present himself as the discoverer of the leprosy bacterium. However, Neisser’s first publication on Mycobacterium leprae refers explicitly to Hansen’s original discovery. How did the notion of Neisser trying to claim Hansen’s discovery emerge? A thorough source-critical examination of Hansen’s and Neisser’s scientific and popular publications between 1874 and 1897 as well as of the literature dealing with the so-called controversy brought interesting new results. The notion that Neisser tried to steal Hansen’s discovery is based on a misreading of Neisser’s publications by Hansen’s biographer. But Neisser tried indeed to bypass Hansen in trying to prove that Mycobacterium leprae was the contagion causing leprosy. The competition between the two scientists resulted in a personal enmity. This study shows how the history of modern science is prone to myths and underlines the importance of source criticism when dealing with established narratives.

This article examines the historical transformation of childhood vaccination in the Netherlands between 1872 and 1959. It analyses how vaccination was reframed from an individual parental responsibility to a collective practice through the establishment of the ‘Rijksvaccinatieprogramma’ (National Immunisation Programme). I analyse this historical trajectory as a case of ‘public health atomism’, a strategy that achieves collective health by prioritizing individual health outcomes and local action. Rather than relying on top-down state mandates, the ‘Rijksvaccinatieprogramma’ was a consequence of co-operation between general practitioners, municipal health officials, civil society organisations, and volunteers. Drawing from published medical sources, parliamentary records, and material from local and national archives, this article provides a detailed historical account of how local governance and autonomy shaped vaccination practices, highlighting the role of the ‘entgemeenschap’ (vaccination community) as a key organisational model for situated collaboration. As such, it revisits childhood vaccination as an archetypical example of biopolitical state intervention, demonstrating how localised, flexible co-operation was instrumental in integrating vaccination into Dutch society.

The closed method for the treatment of compound fractures of the limbs emerged and popularised during the interwar period. The historiography on this procedure sustains an essentially Anglo-Saxon narrative focusing on contributions by the American surgeon Winnett H. Orr during the First World War and the Spanish Josep Trueta during the Spanish Civil War and his exile in Britain. This paper aims to ‘open’ this story by reconstructing the early work of another Spanish surgeon: Manuel Bastos. Although originally an army medical officer, Bastos specialised in the treatment of limb fractures in a dual military-civilian context. On the one hand, during successive assignments to the Spanish Protectorate in Morocco, he familiarised with the management of gunshot wounds. On the other hand, he specialised in the treatment of tuberculosis humerus fractures in children at the Instituto Rubio in Madrid. The visit to Spain of the Argentinian surgeon Pedro Chutró, who had acquired a great prestige in First World War Paris for his approach to fractures and osteomyelitis, and the escalation of the Moroccan campaigns to the so-called Rif War (1921–27) gave Bastos the opportunity, the idea, and the courage to develop a closed treatment of humerus fractures in soldiers. Chutró’s influence on Bastos persisted in the context of the Hispano-Americanist policy embraced in mid-twentieth-century Spain. Ultimately, this study questions the understanding of the closed method as a single, univocally traceable procedure, suggesting instead parallel versions emerging in different sites and transforming themselves and influencing each other as they circulated globally.

The Spanish influenza pandemic of 1918 caused well over fifty million deaths. The epicentre undoubtedly was China, where gene mixing of different virus strains occurred amongst aquatic, migrant birds. But where and when did the virus first infect (or spill over to) a human being? We take, as our starting point, a paper demonstrating that an infection causing the same symptoms as the influenza virus was widespread in New York during the winter of 1917–1918. The authors of that paper went on to suggest that the virus had probably reached North America from Europe, in the context of troop movement during World War I. Our own researches have focussed on this point. We show that outbreaks of serious respiratory disease, local in nature but causing unusual patterns of mortality, were indeed reported by scientists and doctors in army hospitals in England and in France, well before the first wave of the pandemic had arrived. We use the records of these hospitals, now held in the National Archives, to trace the progress of this disease amongst the individuals who fell ill. We examine contemporary reactions to this minor epidemic – an epidemic, we suggest, which acted as a herald wave of the pandemic yet to come. The latter part of our paper addresses the second question, as to how troop movement across the North Atlantic, once the United States had entered into war, may well have enabled the virus to spread from Europe to North America.

The physician and chemist Heinrich Mückter (1914–87) is widely known for his role in developing thalidomide at Grünenthal, whose market launch led to one of the most serious pharmaceutical scandals in history. Less scholarly attention has been paid, however, to his involvement in Nazi Germany’s typhus control and vaccine research and production between 1942 and 1945. Drawing on a variety of historical sources, this article reconstructs his work at a delousing facility in the Białystok District and at the Institute for Typhus and Virus Research of the German Army High Command in Krakow under hygienist Hermann Eyer (1906–97). We show that Mückter participated in a racially framed typhus control programme and in ethically dubious vaccine production methods. He also conducted unethical and methodologically questionable vaccine experiments on human beings in Krakow, including underage test subjects and exploiting the structural vulnerability of the occupied Polish population. In addition, we reassess assumptions about cooperation between Eyer’s Wehrmacht institute and the research station at Buchenwald concentration camp under SS physician Erwin Ding-Schuler (1912–45). Taken together, we argue that Mückter operated within a broader network of civilian and military scientists, health officials, and representatives of the pharmaceutical industry who accelerated the erosion of ethical boundaries in biomedical research and contributed to an exterminatory health and population policy in the occupied East. These practices, termed the ‘Nazi typhus complex’, reveal how preventive medicine, biomedical research, and exterminatory policies were intertwined in the context of an anti-Slavic war of annihilation and the Holocaust.

This paper explores and compares smoking advertisements and anti-smoking and anti-cancer messages in Australia’s migrant press, particularly newspapers, from 1930 to 1960. It investigates the ways in which smoking was promoted to migrant communities through their newspapers, contrasts this with the increasing prevalence of anti-smoking and broader anti-cancer messages, and explores whether there were any shifts in advertising and in anti-smoking messages following the growing research linking smoking and cancer (particularly lung cancer) from 1950. These messages were ultimately tied to this growing research, as well as the various Australian state and national anti-cancer campaign committees which emphasised early diagnosis and swift treatment as the best method to combat a range of cancers. Yet the Australian authorities, although finally acknowledging the dangers of cigarette smoking, rejected any government intervention other than providing the medical reports to the public. Greek-language newspapers (notably To Ethnico Vema) form an important case study; however, other foreign-language and migrant community papers were also consulted, including Italian, Jewish, and French.