In 1902, Albert Moll, who at that time ran a private practice for nervous diseases in Berlin, published his comprehensive book on medical ethics, Ärztliche Ethik. Based on the concept of a contractual relationship between doctor and client, it gave more room to the self-determination of patients than the contemporary, usually rather paternalistic, works of this genre. In the first part of the present paper this is illustrated by examining Moll’s views and advice on matters such as truthfulness towards patients, euthanasia, and abortion. The second part of this article discusses how Moll engaged with the then publicly debated issues of experimentation on hospital patients and the ‘trade’ of foreign private patients between agents and medical consultants. In both matters Moll collected evidence of unethical practices and tried to use it to bring about change without damaging his or the profession’s reputation. However, with his tactical manoeuvres, Moll made no friends for himself among his colleagues or the authorities; his book on ethics also met with a generally cool response from the medical profession and seems to have been more appreciated by lawyers than by other doctors.

Historians of medicine are often gloomily familiar with clinicians' incursions into their intellectual arena. We physicians offer hagiographic biographies of obscure nineteenth-century medical figures, triumphalist narratives of medical progress and – the most heinous offence – retrospective diagnosis of ailments afflicting historical characters. But clinicians have also offered some excellent insights to the discipline. As a medical practitioner, I intend to argue that clinical insight can be valuable; not in providing answers – here, clinicians' contemporary interpretations of disease and its treatment can lead us to become unstuck – but in raising questions which might not occur to historians.

This paper examines racial science and its political uses in Southeast Asia. It follows several anthropologists who travelled to east Nusa Tenggara (the Timor Archipelago, including the islands of Timor, Flores and Sumba), where Alfred Russel Wallace had drawn a dividing line between the races of the east and the west of the archipelago. These medically trained anthropologists aimed to find out if the Wallace Line could be more precisely defined with measurements of the human body. The paper shows how anthropologists failed to find definite markers to quantify the difference between Malay and Papuan/Melanesian. This, however, did not diminish the conceptual power of the Wallace Line, as the idea of a boundary between Malays and Papuans was taken up in the political arena during the West New Guinea dispute and was employed as a political tool by all parties involved. It shows how colonial and racial concepts can be appropriated by local actors and dismissed or emphasised depending on political perspectives.

In 1856, the mayor of Brussels proposed the establishment of a municipal laboratory with a chemist to analyse food and beverages to restrain fraud. His proposal was accepted and a laboratory – possibly one of the first municipal laboratories in Europe – was set up. The laboratory still exists today. This paper aims at tracing the conditions in which it emerged, situating it within the laissez-faire context of the time. It was brought into existence by a liberal administration, in a period of little interventionism replete with unencumbered private interests (those of bakers, butchers, grocers, millers, pharmacists, doctors and so on). What will be considered here is the general mood with regard to food fraud, fair trade, correct price, and the quality of food in the first half of the nineteenth century. On a broader level, this contribution addresses the frictions between private and public initiative, while focusing on the process of construction of expertise. The paper makes use of contemporary documents such as reviews, newspapers, association reports and city council chronicles.

Communication amongst medical specialists helps display the tensions between localism and transnationalisation. Some quantitative sampling of psychiatric journals provides one framework for understanding the history of psychiatry and, to some extent, the history of medicine in general in the twentieth century. After World War II, extreme national isolation of psychiatric communities gave way to substantial transnationalisation, especially in the 1980s, when a remarkable switch to English-language communication became obvious. Various psychiatric communities used the new universal language, not so much as victims of Americanisation, as to gain general professional recognition and to participate in and adapt to modernisation.