During the period from 1919 to 1970, rat killing was ‘modernized’: official, scientific, commercial, agricultural and county advisers sought ‘rat control’. Scientific expertise on rat parasites and rat control circulated internationally. The risks posed to human health through plague, as traced by researchers who were already expert on the third pandemic, led in the UK to the Rats and Mice (Destruction) Act 1919; and the United Nations Conference on Food and Agriculture, at Hot Springs, Virginia, USA, 1943 informed its replacement, the Prevention of Damage by Pests Act 1949. Anticoagulants such as Warfarin developed in the USA at first sold widely in the UK, then later British research on resistance informed subsequent American research. This UK application of international policy and science paralleled the emergence of an official case at Parliamentary level for the national, multidisciplinary and multi-agency approach to rats. Within the UK, animal ecologists under Charles Elton mapped rats in the emergent field of population studies; and new forms of economic costing at MAFF quantified the damage done to farm buildings and machinery and the consumption, soiling and contamination of food, seed and fodder in store. Yet nineteenth-century rat catchers already had an excellent and long-established grasp of rat behaviour, a necessity in either taking or executing their subjects. Though characterized as inefficient, picturesque and craft-based, that vernacular knowledge was reproduced and formalized in the twentieth century through empirical research and evidence-based practice, shaped by experiences at the intersection of human demand, the interests of the (wild and domesticated) animals that humans have preferred, and the endeavours of the rat.

Charles Darwin's Descent of Man was suffused with questions of courtship, mating and sex. Following in his footsteps, biologists throughout the twentieth century interrogated the sexual behaviour of humans and animals. This paper charts the fate of evolutionary theories of sexuality to argue that – despite legal and social gains of the past century – when biologists used sexual selection as a tool for theorizing the evolution of homosexual behaviour (which happened only rarely), the effect of their theories was to continuously reinscribe normative heterosexuality. If, at the end of the nineteenth century, certain sex theorists viewed homosexuality as a marker of intermediate sex, by the late twentieth a new generation of evolutionary theorists idealized gay men as hyper-masculine biological males whose sexual behaviours were uncompromised by the necessity of accommodating women's sexual preferences. In both cases, normative assumptions about gender were interwoven with those about sexuality. By the twenty-first century, animal exemplars were again mobilized alongside data gathered about human sexual practices in defence of gay rights, but this time by creating the opportunity for naturalization without recourse to biological determinism.

Encyclopedic handbooks have been household names to scientists – Gmelins Handbuch der anorganischen Chemie to chemists, Bergey's Manual of Determinative Bacteriology to microbiologists. Their heavy tomes were consulted for reference, and their contents taken as authoritative. This paper analyses the development of this genre as well as of ‘handbook science’. Handbooks and their claim to provide comprehensive factual knowledge on a subject should be understood as a reaction to the scattering of knowledge in modern periodical print as discussed by Wilhelm Ostwald or Ludwik Fleck. A comparative analysis of the actors, the institutions and practices of compiling and editing a German and an American handbook project around mid-century reveals commonalities and differences in how twentieth-century sciences have attempted to cope with the acceleration and dispersion of knowledge generation before computing. These attempts have resulted in different conceptions of a book, from compilation to organic whole. Moreover, the handbook's claim to comprise lasting facts makes it a fitting case in point to reflect on the temporality of knowledge and the relevance of books to the sciences.

In 1976, the animal liberation movement made experiments conducted on cats at the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) one of its earliest successful targets. Although the scientific consensus was that Aronson was not particularly cruel or abusive, the AMNH was selected due to the visibility of the institution, the pet-like status of the animals, and the seeming perversity of studying non-human sexuality. I contextualize the controversy in terms of the changing meaning of utilitarian ethics in justifying animal experimentation. The redefinition of ‘surgeries’ as ‘mutilations’ reflected an encounter between the behavioural sciences and social movements. One of the aims of the late 1960s civil rights movements was to heighten Americans’ sensitivity to differing experiences of suffering. The AMNH protesters drew inspiration from a revived utilitarian ethics of universal organismic pain across the lines of species. This episode was also emblematic of the emergence of an anti-statist, neo-liberal ethos in science. Invoking the rhetoric of the 1970s tax revolt, animal liberationists attacked Aronson's ability to conduct basic research with no immediate biomedical application. Without denying the violence involved, an exclusive focus on reading the experiments through the lens of utilitarianism obscures what ethics animated Aronson's research.

The rapid reception of Gregor Mendel's paper ‘Experiments on plant hybrids’ (1866) in the early decades of the twentieth century remains poorly understood. We will suggest that this reception should not exclusively be investigated as the spread of a theory, but also as the spread of an experimental and computational protocol. Early geneticists used Mendel's paper, as well as reviews of Mendelian experiments in a variety of other publications, to acquire a unique combination of experimental and mathematical skills. We will analyse annotations in copies of Mendel's paper itself, in early editions and translations of this paper, and in early textbooks, such as Reginald Punnett's Mendelism (1905) or Wilhelm Johannsen's Elemente der exakten Erblichkeitslehre (1909). We will examine how readers used copies of such works to reproduce the logic behind Mendelian experiments, either by recalculating results, or by retracing the underlying combinatorial reasoning. We will place particular emphasis on the emergent role of diagrams in teaching and learning the practice of Mendelian genetics.

Charles Darwin's theory of sexual selection, as described in The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex (1871), should be viewed as a significant transitional point in the modern expression of race. Unlike earlier race theorists, Darwin proposed that sexual reproduction was not merely a testing ground of racial character, but was itself a causal force that could create new races. His account of race was distinctly modern – viewing race not in terms of blood but as a collection of population-level characteristics. Recognizing this feature of Darwin's sexual-selection theory allows us to situate Darwin's work not solely within the history of evolutionary science, but also within the structures of racism that became the governing principles of modern nation states. In other words, sexual selection is an expression of Michel Foucault's biopolitics, in which political power is exercised by states not through the contracts of liberal governance but through the management of population-level phenomena. Furthermore, by contextualizing sexual selection in this theoretical framework, it becomes possible to more clearly emphasize the importance of race in the rise of modern biopolitics.

This paper examines the history of Atlantic salmon conservation in Eastern Canada, with a specific emphasis on Newfoundland's Gander river. Conservation efforts for this iconic species begin in the late 1800s and continue through to the contemporary period. Our work is framed by current debates on the Anthropocene and its implications for environmental conservation. We identify two different historical phases in salmon conservation associated with different socio-ecological assemblages, and different conceptualizations of nature. Drawing on oral histories, we also reveal a third human–salmon entanglement associated with what we call the ‘wilful salmon’. The wilful salmon fits uneasily with the idea of conservation, and in some ways it seems contrary to conservation efforts. It is, nonetheless, a legitimate fish that deserves to be considered and evaluated in a world ‘after nature’.

This article explores the role of what might be termed embodied experience in generating knowledge about climate – specifically by focusing on conversations about the effects of climate on the body in late nineteenth-century India. Central to the story is the question of how race maps onto ideas about the body's capacity to register or perceive its environment, and how this question articulates with concerns about standardization and judgement in scientific practice. Focusing on tropical heat, I argue that the British body became figured in late colonial scientific discourse as a kind of sensing technology, one that was transformed by the heat that it registered. However, determining the effects of heat on the body was not always straightforward; the sensation of heat was, at moments, attributed not to heat but instead to light. At stake in this partial displacement from heat to light was not the sensation itself, nor the bodily effects it produced, but rather the mechanisms that produced these sensations and effects. Nevertheless, observing these racialized bodily effects was a way to know climate, arguably as important as recording data from thermometers. Along these lines, pigmentation became a powerful, if imperfect, marker of racial difference that was also thought to confer specific sensory capacities on some and not on others. And it was through these capacities, through the perceived ability of certain bodies (and not others) to register the effects of heat and light, that knowledge of climate became intimately tied to ideas about race and biology.

This paper engages with a specific image: Darwin's tree of the primates. Although this diagram was sketched in ink on paper in 1868, it did not make it into the publication of The Descent of Man (1871). This may seem all the more in need of an explanation because, as Adrian Desmond and James Moore have shown, Darwin strongly relied on the notion of familial genealogy in the development of his theory of organismic evolution, or rather descent. However, Darwin expressed scepticism towards visualizations of phylogenies in correspondence with Ernst Haeckel and in fact also in Descent, considering such representations at once too speculative and too concrete. An abstraction such as a tree diagram left little room to ponder possibilities or demarcate hypotheses from evidence. I thus bring Darwin's primate tree into communication with his view on primate and human phylogeny as formulated in Descent, including his rejection of polygenism. I argue that considering the tree's inherent teleology, as well as its power to suggest species status of human populations and to reify ‘racial’ hierarchies, the absence of the diagram in The Descent of Man may be a significant statement.

Centred on Thomas Brugis's popular Vade mecum, or A Companion for a Chyrurgion fitted for times of Peace or War (1651), this essay considers the role of the instructional book in early modern surgical knowledge and practice. By tracing the fortuna of the Vade mecum from production to use, it shows that, far from being static texts, instructional books were dynamic objects responding and adapting to the changing needs of knowledge communities. I begin by situating the Vade mecum within surgical practice more broadly in early modern England, which shows the key role that the practices of translation and compilation played in the production of surgical manuals. Most producers of surgical manuals were practitioners-turned-authors, and their works typically drew on a mix of lived experience both at the bedside and in the library. Brugis, who was exemplary in this respect, was particularly interested in providing instructions for hands-on practices involved in surgical operations and medicine production. In the last section, which focuses on readers and users, I analyse annotations and additional writings in surviving copies of the Vade mecum to recover the agency of reader–practitioners and trace collective ownership of the book across time and space.

A canonical genealogy of artificial intelligence must include technologies and data being built with, for and from animals. Animal identification using forms of electronic monitoring and digital management began in the 1970s. Early data innovations comprised RFID tags and transponders that were followed by digital imaging and computer vision. Initially applied in the 1980s for agribusiness to identify meat products and to classify biosecurity data for animal health, yet computer vision is interlaced in subtler ways with commercial pattern recognition systems to monitor and track people in public spaces. As such this paper explores a set of managerial projects in Australian agriculture connected to computer vision and machine learning tools that contribute to dual-use. Herein, ‘the cattle crush’ is positioned as a pivotal space for animal bodies to be interrogated by AI imaging, digitization and data transformation with forms of computational and statistical analysis. By disentangling the kludge of numbering, imaging and classifying within precision agriculture the paper highlights a computational transference of techniques between species, institutional settings and domains that is relevant to regulatory considerations for AI development. The paper posits how a significant sector of data innovation – concerning uses on animals – may tend to evade some level of regulatory and ethical scrutiny afforded to human spaces and settings, and as such afford optimisation of these systems beyond our recognition.

In this paper I discuss the history of colonial collections through a focus on the social life of a set of blood group cards held by Portuguese institutions since the 1950s. Between the 1940s and 1960s, a series of anthropological field expeditions were organized by the Portuguese Overseas Science Research Board to the then Portuguese colonies in Africa and Asia. A large number of samples of indigenous blood were collected on blood group paper cards in the course of these campaigns. The cards were then stored in Portugal and used for racial serological studies until the 1980s. Thereafter, the collection survived various institutional deaths. Throughout its post-colonial existence in Portuguese institutions, the cards seem to have moved ambivalently between a condition of valued asset and one of obsolete material. And yet they revealed a resilient capacity to mediate conceptions of historical time. Thus the essay asks what it might mean to approach these collections as colonial ‘chronotope’ – devices for connecting space and time – and how and why they endured through various ends, culminating as a genetically contaminated museum object.

Drawing on prior work in the history and philosophy of statistics, I argue that in many cases analyses powered by artificial-intelligence (AI) techniques such as machine learning (ML) are fundamentally ‘conjectural’: reliant on ex post facto abductive logics often misinterpreted in contemporary machine-learning systems as reliably reproducible truth. Here I relate what Carlo Ginzburg calls ‘the conjectural sciences’ as a historical category to their contemporary instantiation in machine learning and the practice of ‘automated conjecture’. I observe how the automation of physiognomic and phrenological concepts are exemplary of the ways in which discredited conjectural pseudosciences are being revived by today's AI research. Finally, I argue that the conceptual distinction between ‘conjectural’ and ‘empirical’ science can help support contemporary efforts to regulate the design and use of AI systems by providing conceptual and historical justification for the non-development of certain classes of systems intended to automate inference.

In 1871, Charles Darwin published Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex, a text that extended, elaborated and completed his On the Origin of Species (1859). When he had published Origin, Darwin sought, albeit unsuccessfully, to skirt controversy; in Descent he waded into the fray on near-innumerable issues. Readers could find explicit the claim that humans had descended from apes, in addition to explorations of the similarities and apparent gulfs between ‘man’ and other animals. They also found Darwin's opinions on issues ranging from the origin and hierarchy of races to the question of women's education, from the source of altruistic bravery to the biological importance of aesthetic judgement, from his views on what his cousin would term ‘eugenics’ to the history of monogamy. In the last 150 years these ideas have been variously contested, rejected and recovered, so that the shadow of Descent extended into debates over the development of languages, the evolution of human sexualities, the ongoing possibilities of eugenics and the question of women's equality. In this volume, appearing during the sesquicentennial of the text's first appearance, one finds papers dedicated to all of these themes and more, laying out the roots and fruits of Darwin's Descent.

Although many read Charles Darwin's Origin of Species as an endorsement, rather than merely a description, of individualism and competition, in Descent of Man (1871) Darwin intended to show that natural selection could account for the most noble aspects of human morality and conscience. He did so in response to Alfred Russel Wallace's 1869 statement to the contrary. In doing so, Darwin appealed to the natural selection of groups rather than individuals, and to the maternal, parental and filial instincts, as the origin of truly other-regarding moral sentiments. Further, the inheritance of acquired characters and sexual selection had important implications for Darwin's understanding of how other-regarding ethics might prevail in an evolutionary framework that seemed to reward self-interest. In a short addendum to this essay I highlight just three of a number of Darwin's contemporaries who were impressed by this aspect of his work: the science popularizer Arabella Buckley, the Scottish Presbyterian scholar Henry Drummond and the anarchist geographer and naturalist Peter Kropotkin. In closing, I point to an extensive network of others who framed their concerns about both the ‘labour question’ and the ‘woman question’ in evolutionary terms, as a fruitful area for future research in this direction.

A conversation between philosopher of digital cultures Anna Greenspan and historian of China Jeffrey Wasserstrom, speculative-fiction writer Anil Menon, and historian of science Kavita Philip, exploring the emerging work from scholars who have grown up with the global influence of science fiction in popular culture while being trained in the disciplinary spaces between science, engineering, social science, law and the humanities. The following questions are addressed: what are the prehistories of science fiction and the futures of such interdisciplinary work? How do India and China, as places where important new science fiction is being written, and as nations exploding now into emerging markets characterized by technological dynamism, fit into older historiographic frames that saw the European Enlightenment as the source of modern science, and the ‘developing world’ as destined only to ever play catch-up? How should the politics of digital futures and non-European pasts figure in historical research and in fiction writing, keeping in mind the historian's fear of presentism and anachronism, and the fiction writer's dislike of political moralism?

This paper examines the agency of the dogs used to develop the Soviet manned space flight programme by considering what the dogs did as experimental subjects, as dog technologies, and as individual dogs in the context of the historically conditioned practices of Soviet science. Looking at how Soviet space researchers refined Pavlovian behaviourism and integrated it into a complex engineering project helps clarify the conditions under which the dogs worked and the assumptions that guided the human researchers. The paper uses theoretical perspectives that contextualize animal agency in terms of relationships and then looks at those relationships from an ethological perspective. This provides a sense of what the dogs did that distinguishes between how humans understand dogs and what we know about dogs’ cognitive and social capacities. The paper proposes a model of animal agency that looks seriously at the dogs’ relationships with human researchers and suggests that the dogs’ significance as historical subjects depends as much on what they did as dogs as it does on how their contributions to the space race were perceived.

Early modern books about mathematical instruments are typically well illustrated and contain detailed instructions on how to make and use the tools they describe. Readers approached these texts with a desire to extract information – and sometimes even to extract illustrations which could be repurposed as working instruments. To focus on practical approaches to these texts is to bring the category of ‘making’ to the fore. But here care needs to be taken about who could make what, about the rhetoric of craft, and about the technique of working with diagrams and images. I argue that we should read claims about making instruments cautiously, but that, conversely, we should be inquisitive and open-minded when it comes to the potential uses of printed diagrams in acquiring skill and knowledge: these could be worked on directly, or cut out or copied and turned into working instruments. Books were sites of mathematical practice, and in certain disciplines this was central to learning through doing.

In 1936, the Bauhaus-trained architect Ernst Neufert published the first edition of his seminal book Bau-Entwurfslehre. One of the most successful architecture books to date, the encyclopedic volume offered dimensioned floor plans for architectural tasks ranging from bunkers to dog kennels to Zeppelins. Two years later, Neufert started working as ‘norm expert’ for Reichsminister Albert Speer, with whom he published another manual in 1943, Bauordnungslehre. Meant to provide a total system of measures for architecture at large, the volume subjected building blocks, bricks and human bodies to Neufert's all-encompassing octametric system. This article contrasts these two books against Neufert's unpublished treatise – ‘Lebensgestaltungslehre’. Never a bound volume, the latter was sketched out in diary entries between 1936 and 1942 on folded DIN A4 sheets (themselves normed) and organized in a card index. Reading them across their medial states, this article investigates the material, methodological and ideological character of Neufert's Lehren. This is not the story of a handbook; rather, this is a story of constructing Lehre one sheet at a time. Neufert's attempt to format German society in the 1930s and 1940s through inherently architectural means such as floor plans, norms and a system of measures ultimately shaped the designing subject – starting with himself.

This paper explores historically used medicaments by making them, or rather reworking them, in a modern laboratory and assessing them for taste, flavour and odour using sensory analysis and a trained panel of sensory assessors. Our test subject is the famous panacea theriac andromachalis, which is subjected to the methods of experimental history of science to create experimental data. We emphasize the importance of the sensory experience, in both the making and the taking of theriac. From antiquity and well into the nineteenth century, medical practitioners and patients held that the sensory qualities of medicaments were of significance. But sensory information is notoriously difficult to transmit textually, and today we know very little about the sensory characteristics of theriac, and other medicines of the past. This is a problematic lacuna in our knowledge of how actors perceived and used them. By choosing the reworking and sensory framework, we can approach early modern pharmacy both as a craft and as a creative process. Thus our study emphasizes the artisanal, or craft, aspect of medicine making. It indicates how the art of medicine making was integrated with and connected to a medical practice which relied heavily on direct sensory assessments of medicaments, disease and patients. Our purpose is, however, not to try to find out how historical medicine makers and patients ‘really felt’ when they experienced the act of smelling and tasting medicines. Our aim is rather to discuss what the sensory experience of making and tasting adds to the investigation of textual sources. Thus, by attempting to access information about the experience of medicine through experimental means, we aim to enrich and complement historical understanding of the medicines and medical theories of the past.