The Astronomical Book of Enoch describes the passage of the moon through the gates of heaven, which stand at the edges of the earth. In doing so, the book describes the position of the rising and setting of the moon on the horizon. Otto Neugebauer, the historian of ancient science, suggested using the detailed tables found in later Ethiopic texts in order to reconstruct the path of the moon through the gates. This paper offers a new examination of earlier versions of the Astronomical Book, using a mathematical analysis of the figures and astronomical theories presented throughout the Aramaic Astronomical Book; the results fit both the data preserved in the scrolls and the mathematical approach and religious ideology of the scroll's authors better than the details found in the late Ethiopic texts. Among other new insights, this alternate theory also teaches about the process of the composition of the Astronomical Book in the first centuries of its composition.

This paper examines the intertwined relations between eugenics and medical genetics from a Swedish perspective in the 1940s and 1950s. The Swedish case shows that a rudimentary form of genetic counseling emerged within eugenic practices in the applications of the Swedish Sterilization Act of 1941, here analyzed from the phenomenon of “heredophobia” (ärftlighetsskräck). At the same time genetic counseling also existed outside eugenic practices, within the discipline of medical genetics. The paper argues that a demand for genetic counseling increased in the 1940s and 1950s in response to a sense of reproductive responsibility engendered by earlier eugenic discourse. The paper also questions the claim made by theoreticians of biopolitics that biological citizens have emerged only during the last decades, especially in neoliberal societies. From the Swedish case it is possible to argue that this had already happened earlier in relation to the proliferation of various aspects of eugenics to the public.

Field research stations are households as a result of allegoric notions of the scientific family, and because they fulfill the purpose of a home in the field in a literal sense. They meet the practical and physical need for bed and board, as well as the emotional and intellectual need for social cohesion. I argue that this, in combination with local gender identity, opened the door for a woman of lower social strata, the daughter of a fisherman, to take upon herself the role as station household matriarch, thus gaining an integral role within an inner circle of influential scientists. Secondly, I argue that locally employed members of the research station were valued primarily for their social skills. For the sake of ensuring necessary conditions for scientific work, being abrasive was just as important as being agreeable.

The history of ballooning has received considerable attention from historians examining the technological innovations behind it as well as from scholars interested in aeronautical anecdotes concerning launches and disasters. The cultural importance of this new machine, however, remains less fully analyzed. This essay explores one facet of that history through a discussion of the commodification of launches in France and Great Britain. These two countries, which have larger middling classes as well as a higher degree of commercialization in general, provided a fertile environment for aeronauts seeking to instruct and entertain an audience willing to fund ballooning. Balloonists had to invent ways to market this scientific discovery and determine how best to attract paying customers. The audience was entertained while simultaneously empowered to act as witnesses to what balloonists presented as a scientific experiment.

In this paper, I argue that studying school textbooks is a fruitful way to investigate mathematical conceptions in different national contexts. These sources give access to the written production of an extended mathematical milieu whose members write for various audiences. By studying the case of late 1950s French and English textbooks issued for a growing audience of 11- to 15-year-old pupils, I show that a plurality of conceptions was projected at the time onto pupils and their teachers in both national contexts. I link this diversity to contemporaneous debates regarding mathematics teaching and argue that textbooks themselves have to be considered as active agents of such debates.

The Scandinavian countries share a solid reputation as longstanding contributors to top level Arctic research. This received view, however, veils some deep-seated contrasts in the ways that Sweden, Norway, and Denmark have conducted research in the Arctic and the North Atlantic. In this paper it is argued that instead of focusing on the geographical determinism of science – the fact that the Arctic is close to, indeed part of, Scandinavian territories – we should look more closely at the geopolitics of science to understand the differences and similarities between these three Nordic countries. Through case studies of, mainly, Swedish Arctic and North Atlantic glaciology in the 1920s through to the 1940s, and of Norwegian preparations in the 1950s for the International Geophysical Year 1957/58, the paper demonstrates how different styles of research – research agendas, methodological choices, collaborative patterns, international networks, availability of infrastructure, relations to politics and power – are conditioned on economic interests and strategic and geopolitical trajectories, either these are explicitly put in the forefront of scientific priorities as in the case of Norway in the 1950s, or when they are manifestly disregarded in the name of scientific internationalism, as in the case of Swedish glaciology. The case of Danish colonial science in Greenland is only cursorily drawn into this analysis but corroborates the overall thesis. The analysis of this wider science politics of Scandinavian circumpolar science is exercised against a brief introductory backdrop of Arctic science historiography. Its chief message is that the analysis of polar science applying modern theory and method of the social studies of science is comparatively recent and that the full potential of merging the literature of Arctic science and exploration with those of security, geopolitics, indigenous voices, and the politics of nationalism is yet to be realized.

During the Middle Ages many Greek mathematical and astronomical texts were translated from Greek into Arabic (ca. ninth century) and from Arabic into Latin (ca. twelfth century). There were many factors complicating the study of them, such as translation from or into other languages, redactions, multiple translations, and independently transmitted scholia. A literal translation risks less in loss of meaning, but can be clumsy. This article includes lists of translations and a large bibliography, divided into sections.

Linking up with recent studies on the experience of space and place in modern youth literature, this article analyzes how the “journey” as a narrative line and motif transformed Dutch early modern travel books for children from classical teaching instruments into explorative knowledge places. In the popular seventeenth-century Glorious and Fortunate Journey to the Holy Land, young readers were invited to travel within the book, which was presented as a place that covers material pages to observe as well as imagined places to read about. Eighteenth-century travel books, for example written by Joachim Heinrich Campe, shifted from an inner to an empirical mode of travelling. They raised the suggestion that they offered unmediated observations and travel experiences, as if reading about places was equal to seeing places. Since travel literature facilitated active knowledge quisition among youngsters, but also left little room for autonomous innovations or different interpretations, this article reveals the emancipatory as well as restrictive character of such places of learning. By turning reading into a kind of travelling, travel books served as a substitute for travel.

Apprenticeship was probably the largest mode of organized learning in early modern European societies, and artisan practitioners commonly began as apprentices. Yet little is known about how youths actually gained skills. I develop a model of vocational pedagogy that accounts for the characteristics of apprenticeship and use a range of legal and autobiographical sources to examine the contribution of different forms of training in England. Apprenticeship emerges as a relatively narrow channel, in which the master’s contribution to training was weakly defined and executed conservatively. The creation of complementary channels of formal instruction was constrained by cost and coordination problems. When we consider a range of British youths who obtained advanced skills as artisan practitioners (and engaged in invention or pursued natural philosophical interests), we see the importance of individual agency over institutional structures. For these youths, training could involve rejecting apprenticeship, engaging in periods of advanced study, including time in multiple workshops after the end of apprenticeship, and parallel campaigns to access scarce books and communities of scholarship.

A brief review of the Merton thesis shows that its restriction to England is arbitrary. An example from the historiography of modern physics suggests the possible payoff of an ecumenical Merton thesis and the means to explore it. A summary of the careers of men who practiced science literally in the church – men who built meridian lines in Italian cathedrals – indicates the range of social support of astronomical studies by Catholic institutions in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

Argument

An attempt to understand and analyze a unique nineteenth-century musical instrument – the enharmonic piano from the collection of the Glinka Museum of Russian Musical Culture in Moscow – directs a historian towards Prince Vladimir Odoyevskiy’s efforts to construct a special musical scale corresponding to the indigenous tradition of Russian music. Known today mostly as an author of Romantic short stories, Odoyevskiy was also an amateur scientist and musician, a follower of Schelling’s Naturphilosophie, and a mystic. He tried to design his new musical scale and instruments on the basis of experimental science and mathematics. Odoyevskiy’s life-long search for a synthesis of literature, music, positive science, and spirituality demonstrates how the adaptation and appropriation of European arts preceded and paved the way towards the appropriation of European sciences among the educated élite in nineteenth-century Russia. The tensions inherent in the process led to Odoyevskiy’s nationalist rebellion against the European musical standard, the equal temperament. His call for a different musical scale remained largely ignored in the nineteenth century, until the topic was raised anew by twentieth-century composers and musicians.

In the winter of 1849–1850 in Königsberg, German physiologist Hermann von Helmholtz (1821–1894) conducted pioneering measurements concerning the propagation speed of stimulations in the living nerve. While recent historians of science have paid considerable attention to Helmholtz's uses of the graphic method, in particular his construction of an instrument called “myographion,” this paper draws attention to the inscription surfaces that he used in effective ways for capturing and transmitting his findings. Against the background of recent archival findings, I show that Helmholtz used isinglass copies of his graphical recordings in order to communicate the basic principle of previous measurements to the academic public. As the correspondence with his Berlin-based friend and colleague Emil du Bois-Reymond (1818–1896) and the subsequent development of the myographion make clear, these curves were not meant as measurements but functioned as demonstrations. In other words, Helmholtz's curves did provide “images of precision” (Olesko and Holmes 1993) – but they were not precise images.

The tension between theoretical and practical knowledge was particularly problematic for trainee physicians. Unlike civic apprenticeships in surgery and pharmacy, in early modern England there was no standard procedure for obtaining education in the practical aspects of the physician’s role, a very uncertain process of certification, and little regulation to ensure a suitable reward for their educational investment. For all the emphasis on academic learning and international travel, the majority of provincial physicians returned to practice in their home area, because establishing a practice owed more to networks of kinship, patronage and credit than to formal qualifications. Only when (and where) practitioners had to rely solely on their professional qualification to establish their status as young practitioners that the community could trust would proposals to reform medical education, such as those put forward to address a crisis of medicine in Restoration London, which are examined here, be converted into national regulation of medical education in the early nineteenth century, although these proposals prefigured many informal developments in medical training in the eighteenth century.

Argument

This article depicts the emergence of the modern, secular Jewish intellectual in the eighteenth century as a process of intellectual seduction and irresistible attraction of young men to knowledge outside the boundaries of Jewish culture. In the rhetoric of the Haskalah (Enlightenment), the cultural conversion was often described metaphorically as sexual attraction to a forbidden woman. The passion for knowledge inaccessible within the traditional Jewish culture (mainly of the natural sciences, but also of Hebrew, European languages, and philosophy) and intense curiosity were the hallmarks of the early maskilim (Jewish Enlighteners). It is difficult now to assess the sense of audacity, the awareness of sin, of guilt, and of subversion entailed in the desire to enter the realms of extra-Jewish and extra-religious knowledge, as well as the barriers of language and social norms that had to be crossed. The encounter of the Ashkenazi elite in eighteenth-century Europe with extra-Jewish knowledge was a traumatic conflict that grew in intensity as the shelf of Hebrew books and the number of maskilim grew.

Gertrude Cox, first chair of North Carolina State University's Department of Experimental Statistics, worked as a consultant for the Ford Foundation to Cairo University's Institute of Statistical Studies and Researches in 1964. An analysis of this work provides a case study in the internationalization of the statistics profession, the systems of patronage available to scientists in the second half of the twentieth century, and the history of women in science. It highlights some of the complexities in the process of internationalization in science, showing that even when scientists cross national boundaries to promote their discipline, they may have as a goal the advancement of their own nationalistic interests, or those of their patrons. In documenting Cox's commitment to serving her professional community, this case study will show that some particularly feminine qualities of Cox's approach to her work enabled her to accomplish what her male colleagues tried unsuccessfully to do.

On this occasion, I shall try to respond to the suggestions that I report what it was like to be a graduate student at Harvard in the early 1930s engaged in writing a dissertation which took the shape in print of the monograph, Science, Technology and Society in Seventeenth-Century England. This, quite some time before the sociology of science had emerged with a cognitive and social identity. I shall not attempt an account – let alone an explanatory account – of the micro-environment at Harvard back then that provided local context for that study. Indeed, I suspect that the Gerald Holton, Everett Mendelsohn and Arnold Thackray reconstructions come closer to the intellectual and social reality of that time and place than anything I might reconstruct.

Conventional wisdom has it that Ashkenazic rabbinic culture was far less receptive to non-Jewish learning and worldly disciplines than its Sephardic counterpart. Whereas great Sephardic rabbis such as Maimonides and many others were masters of philosophy, medicine, and science, Ashkenazic rabbis usually restricted their intellectual horizons to talmudic literature and, in the best of cases, “broadened” them to include the Bible and/or Kabbalah. Ashkenazic rabbinic culture was, according to this image, insular and unidimensional.

This paper focuses on several Italian Jewish philosophers in the second half of the sixteenth century and the first third of the seventeenth century. It argues that their writings share a certain theology of nature. Because of it, the interest of Jews in the study of nature was not a proto-scientific but a hermeneutical activity based on the essential correspondence between God, Torah, and Israel. While the theology of nature analyzed in the paper did not prevent Jews from being informed about and selectively endorsing the first phase of the scientific revolution, it did render the Jews marginal to it. So long as Jewish thinkers adhered to this theology of nature, Jews could not adopt the scientific mentality that presupposed a qualitative distinction between the Book of Nature and the Book of Scripture.

Argument

The paper offers a reading of Aquinas' treatise On Faith as a source of inspiration for later developments in the Catholic world of learning. My main argument is that Aquinas' attempt to interpolate his discourse on faith into a clear epistemological context had long-term intellectual and institutional implications. On the intellectual level Aquinas' discourse had the effect of blurring the ancient dichotomy between episteme/knowledge-science, and doxa/opinion-belief, that had presupposed an ontological difference between their objects. On the institutional level Aquinas' discourse on faith allowed for the superposition of intellectual and political authority. The Jesuit educators of the early modern age, who identified themselves as Thomist, elaborated on the potential of the special configuration of knowledge and authority they had found in Aquinas' theology and transformed its principles into social-intellectual mechanisms to organize a framework in which to produce and transmit knowledge in the first global educational system.

Had anybody told me at the beginning of my university studies that I would end up as a historian of science, I would not only have shaken my head in disbelief, I would in all probability not even have understood the prophecy. When I left high school, my interests ranged from literary writing to the life sciences. After an initial attempt to study biochemistry, which I aborted after a year, my early university education was in philosophy, with an emphasis on continental philosophy, from Descartes to Spinoza, from Kant to Hegel, from Nietzsche to Heidegger, pretty much the curriculum that would dominate the vast majority of the philosophical institutes in German universities in the mid-1960s. Having moved from Tübingen to Berlin, in addition I absorbed early on, as part of a group of students around Jacob Taubes, what came to be subsumed under the label of structuralism and post-structuralism: linguistics and semiotics from the Prague School through Noam Chomsky to Julien Greimas, grammatology from Ignace Gelb to Jacques Derrida, historical epistemology in its latest, Canguilhemian and Foucauldian versions, literary theory as practiced by Roland Barthes, to mention just a few names that formed the horizon of our student reading circles.