Both geologists and historians study the past, but they have divergent views of the present. Geologists are unambiguously presentist. They believe that the observable present is a crucial resource in understanding the past, because in the observable present we can see and study the processes that have occurred in the unobservable past. For geologists, it is largely uncontroversial that the past not only can but should be interpreted with reference to the present.

By the late nineteenth century, science pedagogues and academicians became involved in a vast movement to popularize science throughout the Russian empire. With the aftermath of the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution, many now found the new Marxist state a willing supporter of their goals of spreading science to an under-educated public. In the Stalin era, Soviet state officials believed that the spread of science and technology had to coalesce with the Communist Party's utilitarian goals and needs to revive the industrial sector of the economy. This resulted in a new Stalinist technologically oriented popularization campaign. In the Khrushchev era (1953–64), Soviet politicians became increasingly more aware of the competitive power of Soviet technology in the global arena and developed extensive campaigns to publicize Soviet feats for a broad domestic and foreign public audience. This was particularly true for topics such as the space program and big technologies such as nuclear power.

Dr. James Hansen's 1988 testimony before the U.S. Senate was an important turning point in the history of global climate change. However, no studies have explained why Hansen's scientific communication in this deliberative setting was more successful than his testimonies of 1986 and 1987. This article turns to Hansen as an important case study in the rhetoric of accommodated science, illustrating how Hansen successfully accommodated his rhetoric to his non-scientist audience given his historical conditions and rhetorical constraints. This article (1) provides a richer explanation for the rhetorical/political emergence of global warming as an important public policy issue in the United States during the late 1980s and (2) contributes to scholarly understanding of the rhetoric of accommodated science in deliberative settings, an often overlooked area of science communication research.

The use of diagrams is pervasive in theoretical physics. Together with mathematical formulae and natural language, diagrams play a major role in theoretical modeling. They enrich the expressive power of physicists and help them to explore new theoretical ideas. Diagrams are not only heuristic or pedagogical tools, but they are also tools that enable developing the content of models into novel implications.

This paper analyzes the political dimension of Miguel Masriera's (1901–1981) science popularization program. In the 1920s, Masriera worked at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology (ETH) in Zurich – with Hermann Staudinger, the luminary of polymer chemistry – to later become a lecturer of theoretical and physical chemistry at the University of Barcelona. After living in exile in Paris, at the end of the Civil War he returned to Spain but never recovered his position. Instead, Masriera became an active popular science writer and adapted to the severe constraints of General Franco's military dictatorship (1939–1975). Inspired by the astronomer Arthur Eddington's world view, Masriera wrote and translated popular science books, and published articles in daily newspapers and journals. By examining Masriera's popular works, in particular his program for spreading “atomic culture” in Spain during the Cold War, this paper aims to contribute to the assessment of the role of science popularization in the domestic legitimization of that dictatorial regime and also its use as a vehicle for international recognition abroad.

Biological drawings of newly described or revised species are expected to represent the type specimen with greatest possible accuracy. In taxonomic practice, illustrations assume the function of mobile representatives of relatively immobile specimens. In other words, such illustrations serve as “immutable mobiles” in the Latourian sense. However, the significance of drawing in the context of first descriptions goes far beyond that of illustration in the conventional sense. Not only does it synthesize the verbal catalogue of the type's morphological characteristics: it also enables the examination of these traits. The efficacy of drawing is thus closely related to its power to direct and redirect observation; it is inextricably bound up with the act of making a drawing. Although the invariance of the “immutable mobiles” is a key virtue of the logistics of “paperwork,” the recovery of graphic knowledge requires a much stronger dynamic activity – a process of sequential processing that brings out differences by translating the phenomenon under examination into various modes of graphic representation.

I make a large claim for the intellectual and institutional centrality of the history of science as critical reason. The reality on the ground, of course, does not always exhibit this. I trace the vicissitudes of my own way of thought in relation to developments in the field, leading to an interest, first, in relating intellectual history (with its philosophical orientation) to mainstream (evidence based) history, and second, to finding a place for the human sciences in the history of science. The latter area, which involves questioning the nature of science as knowledge, leads to an engagement with notions of being human. It is an interest which potentially makes the history of science a boundless field, and it is necessary to comment on the questions, both intellectual and practical, that this raises. I welcome a notion of the history of science as a family of activities, and I relate this to practices which seek models of good history rather than explicit methods.

What does “life” become at a moment when biological inquiry proceeds by manufacturing biological artifacts and systems? In this article, I juxtapose two radically different communities, synthetic biologists and Hyperbolic Crochet Coral Reef crafters (HCCR). Synthetic biology is a decade-old research initiative that seeks to merge biology with engineering and experimental research with manufacture. The HCCR is a distributed venture of three thousand craftspeople who cooperatively fabricate a series of yarn and plastic coral reefs to draw attention to the menace climate change poses to the Great Barrier and other reefs. Interpreting these two groups alongside one another, I suggest that for both, manufacturing biological artifacts advances their understandings of biology: in a rhetorical loop, they build new biological things in order to understand the things they are making. The resulting fabrications condense scientific and folk theories about “life” and also undo “life” as a coherent analytic object.

In his inaugural lecture, “On the Legitimacy of the Darwinian Theory,” August Weismann followed closely in Darwin's footsteps, but provided at the same time an outline of the essentials of his future theory of heredity, development, variation, and speciation. This was Weismann's first support of the evolutionary theory, and it shows his commitment to natural selection as the mechanism of evolution. For Weismann, “Darwin's Theory” meant natural selection. Natural selection, and more generally selectionism, became Weismann's major explanatory principle for evolutionary change and the most important element driving his thought.

My first book, The Physicists, was conceived when I. I. Rabi visited Princeton in 1961–1962 as a Shreve Fellow in the History Department (see Kevles 1995). Some two years earlier C. P. Snow had published his influential provocation, The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution, and the academic world was abuzz with initiatives aimed at achieving better literacy in science among liberal arts majors. Rabi was a Nobel laureate in physics at Columbia University and his visit was one of Princeton's efforts to this end. It had been arranged by my mentor, Eric F. Goldman, a historian of modern America who had gotten to know Rabi through their mutual engagement with current issues in American democracy.

The motivation for the publication of this lecture is my firm belief that any word that can even slightly clarify and advance the powerful and fruitful idea of the transmutation of species is of value.

First, I wish to put an end to the futile discussions which go nowhere since they ignore accumulated knowledge and always start from scratch. I want to proclaim that at the core of the Darwinian theory, regardless of its merit as a whole, lies the transmutation hypothesis, which is nowadays the only legitimate scientific hypothesis on the origin of organic forms. Therefore, future scientific discussions should focus on Darwinian theory alone, as its foundation is irrefutable.

This lecture has been printed completely unchanged and unavoidable necessary additions have been transferred to footnotes. This article was already completed when Moritz Wagner's The Darwinian theory and the migration law of organism1* was published. Wagner attempts to diminish the role of natural selection in Darwin's theory and I challenge this view in the appendix, which also addresses the factors Wagner emphasized as influencing speciation.

Freiburg im Breisgau, August 2, 1868

August Weismann

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.

Preliminary remark: The following conversation began as a series of written email exchanges. Due to technical reasons, this exchange had to be interrupted at some point. Rather than rewriting the text that had obtained from scratch, I continued the conversation, turning the real “other” of the dialogue into an imagined one. Heartfelt thanks to Oren Harman, the guest editor of this topical issue, for continuing support and for having taken the risk of designing this unusual topical issue of Science in Context with me. AM.