Beach Haven

THE MIND HAS NO SEX?
WOMEN IN THE ORIGINS OF MODERN SCIENCE
By Londa Schiebinger
Harvard University Press, 1991, 355 pages
Review by Michael Beach
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Feminist Historian Challenge to the Definition of “Scientific” Activities

Despite a few noted exceptions, most women during the so-called scientific revolution period in Europe were not admitted to universities, academies or scientific societies. The degree of acceptance depended on location (Schiebinger, 1989). Italian scientific organizations in Bologna, Padua, and Rome allowed women in all sorts of roles, including positions of leadership (ibid 26). In France, involvement of women was more likely to be in salon discussions hosted by socially influential people. In fact women were often the organizers of this form of intellectual pursuit which included thought leaders of both sexes (ibid 30). German science was more economically motivated and social leaders tended to see scientific advance by women through the extension of rights under guild rules. As an artisan or business owner they could perpetuate their roles after the death of their husband (ibid 66). A noted exception was Maria Winkelmann who helped her husband create all sorts of calendars by collecting astronomical data. After his death the Berlin Academy of Sciences chose not to allow her to continue, even in a less elevated role of Assistant Calendar Maker (ibid 90).  English science seemed even less welcoming to women in any role beyond working as an assistant to a male counterpart, often her spouse. French style salons were frowned upon by English gentility (ibid 32).

Alternatives did include attempts at women’s academies, though the idea didn’t catch on so well for lack of patronage. Monasteries offered opportunities for study and contemplation, but did not tend to have a scientific focus, rather a religious one. Many women participated in science through art, recreating through drawings what could only be seen under a microscope, or preserving specimens through the injection of wax (ibid 29).

Carolyn Merchant included philosophical argument sharing views of groups concerned with metaphysics (Merchant, 1980). She spoke of the internal/external argument by sharing views of philosophers often considered as external to science, though she does not speak to individual female scientific philosophers.


Katherine Park confirms Joan Kelly’s argument of their having been no renaissance for women (Park, 2006). Kelly was more focused on women and science. Park notes Merchant offers more of “the generalist vision in the history of science” (ibid 489). Merchant depicts less about the specific effect on women scientists, and more on the metaphor of nature as female. That said, Merchant (214) does describe Hobbes’ atomistic view of equality as “meant for middle- and upper-class property-holding males” (Merchant, 1980)


Specific Examples of Institutions, Practices, and Areas of Knowledge


Despite all the challenges, women were able to make significant contributions. Scheibinger’s work shares examples through the entire book.  Margaret Cavendish married into a noble network of scholars. She worked primarily in isolation from other women, but became a thought leader in the atomistic philosophy. She lauded occasional attacks on rationalists and empiricists of her day. Emilie du Chatelet worked in close contact with Voltaire. Through him she was able to intermingle with many Newtonians of her day. She was able to use her social position of privilege to intermingle with the scholarly. Maria Sibylla Merian combined her artistic talents with her husband to create businesses. She gained notoriety through creating and selling art depicting nature of all scales. Maria Winkelmann became an astronomer by learning first from her father, later largely through partnership with her second husband Gottfried Kirch (Schiebinger, 1989). Though her major work was originally published by Kirch under his name, in a later publishing he gave Winkelmann credit (ibid 85).


Mainstream Scientific Culture Described as “Masculine” Rather Than “Gender-neutral”


Carolyn Merchant speaks to the evolution of nature from mother/womb, to untamed woman to be ‘penetrated’ in order to understand it, to the self-revealing woman, then finally to a non-woman mechanical cosmos (Merchant, 1980). These definitions came from a male perspective in the attempt to understand nature through the cultural definitions of womanhood. However Merchant only mentions one woman, Margaret Cavendish (ibid 206). She is incidentally depicted as one of a group, the rest are men, of English Royalist emigres in France with whom Thomas Hobbes associates himself while living there. The focus of the section is really on Hobbes’ mechanistic view of the cosmos and nature.


The Mechanism of Hobbes shows a default assumption of paternalism. Merchant shows how atomism would mean that all nature is the same, or equal, since everything is a result of atoms in motion. This even included the “human soul, will, brain, and appetites” (ibid 205). Despite the equality this stand should define, yet in Leviathan Hobbes describes a family in terms of a father, children and servants. Mother is not mentioned (ibid 214). This social depiction comes despite the argument that a child’s mother is always known, but the father is only known by the confession of the mother.
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One way Schiebinger depicts the masculinization of science is to share how Kant describes the difference between the sexes through how each understands (Schiebinger, 1989). “Kant associated woman’s ‘beautiful understanding’ not with science, but with feeling.” He further argues women come to their philosophy “not to reason, but to sense” (ibid 271).
BibliographyMerchant, C. (1980). The Death of Nature. New York: Harper Collins Publishers.
Park, K. (2006). Women, Gender, and Utopia. FOCUS - ISIS, 487- 495.
Schiebinger, L. (1989). The Mind has no Sex? London: Harvard University Press.

​REPRESENTING AND INTERVENING
By Ian Hacking
Cambridge University Press, 1983, 287 pages
Review by Michael Beach
 
In this work, Hacking reviews philosophical thought related to science and technology from the perspective of how scientific and technological ideas do or don’t represent reality. He also shows argument around scientific use of ideas and technology to create reality (intervening). Aside from reviewing the main arguments and philosophers involved on the topics he often interjects his own stands on the issues.
 
An example of a key philosophical debate is eluded to in a quote by Lakatos. His reading of Popper on knowledge growth stated simply is, “people propose, nature disposes” (114).
 
Hacking makes a number of comparisons between the philosophical perspectives of Lakatos and others such as Popper, Kuhn, Putnam, and Kant. The key phase is one focus, specifically on how (and if) science progresses. For Lakatos, successive research either progresses a theory, or degenerates it (117). In this way, theories are bolstered or unsupported by empiricist efforts.
 
Some direct comparison between Kuhn and Putnam allows Hacking to clarify. For instance, while Kuhn speaks of scientific revolution, Putnam is focused more on evolution in terms of knowledge growth through rationality (111). Putnam further muddies the knowledge-growth question through the concepts of reference and extension. One of his arguments, for example, is that a given reference may be understood differently by different people, making the extension, including knowledge growth though experiment, essentially impossible (101). If one accepts this premise, then proposals by people (theories) are not universally understood, nor the disposition of nature as neither the proposition nor the disposition are held in common among scientists.
 
Putnam’s struggle is with meaning. Hacking denotes that a reference is the meaning, or thing, represented by the word. Sense is more like the connotative understanding of the thing, the reference in question (75). If Putnam questions one’s ability to concur with others on either reference or sense, then his questioning of knowledge growth is understandable. The scientific world seems to get around the difference through the practice of dubbing. Where Lakatos would argue that knowledge growth can only be understood in retrospect (118), Hacking argues in favor of dubbing “new natural kinds” which are “often the result of initial speculations which are gradually articulated into theory and experiment” (82).
 
Ian Hacking’s work shows a mixed message claiming varying schools of scientific philosophy share common ground, yet differ in fundamental ways, stating how such point-by-point opposition between philosophers only means there is ‘underlying agreement’.
 
By introduction, Hacking makes a case for ‘common ground’.  He shares seven areas where he believes Carnap and Popper, and by extension philosophers of science in general, tend to agree (5). Natural science is the best rational thought. Distinction exists between observation and theory. Knowledge is cumulative. Science has a deductive structure. Science depends on precise language. Unity of science methodology exists in each discipline. Finally, the context of justification differs from the context of discovery.
 
Despite these unifying assertions, pretty much all the rest of the reading shows an evolution, along with examples of fundamental change of thought. For example, Hacking’s first positivist instinct refers to falsifiability as a ‘variant’ of verification (41), yet early in his work (3) he refers to the divided image of Carnap and Popper as betraying a ‘deeper’ difference. It seems difficult to justify such ‘deeper difference’ with simply being ‘variant’. Difference is variable, on a subjective scale. Qualifying words expose subjective opinion. At times Hacking depicts difference as minor, other times as significant.
 
Hacking describes schools of thought within his own form of structure; realism vs anti-realism, causal vs anti-causal, theoretical entities vs anti-theoretical entities, and the list continues. A specific example referred to earlier was the divided image of Carnap and Popper. Carnap was in favor of science as verifiable. By this he claimed metaphysics is not science, inductive reasoning should be employed, and there are important meanings in language. Popper, on the other hand, stood for science as falsifiable. By this he argued metaphysics leads to science, deductive reasoning should be employed, and calling meanings and language only ‘scholastic’ (4).
 
Difference can be understood subjectively by degrees. Hacking seems simultaneously to both emphasize and downplay difference. Readers could easily see downplayed example differences as significant.
 
Among the topics around speculation and experimentation I found the bridging concept of calculation particularly important. A calculation is a form of modeling. Hacking referenced many ideas of his own and others about meanings of speculation (theory) and experimentation (observation). However, until he addressed the bridging aspect of calculation in the speculation-calculation-experimentation framework, the two seemed somewhat independent. In fact, many of Hacking’s reference philosophers argued specifically a lack of connection between theory and empirical data.
 
This framework also answered a longstanding question for me. So often in science classes teachers would introduce the idea of constants. These constants were usually attached to the name of a scientist who ‘discovered’ or ‘introduced’ the constant. They never were explained. We were just taught how to incorporate a specific constant into a formula to obtain the answer to a specific scientific process. Hacking explains how a calculation comes about from a need to explain a given observation or experimental data set (artifact, phenomenon). Adding a constant to make a calculation consistently approximate the expected outcome allows science to adopt a theory that adheres to accepted scientific principles. The beauty of such a bridging approach is it also allows for change in both theory and experiment without shifting the calculation. The same calculation can be used to support different theories or outcomes.
 
The resulting approximation becomes yet another central argument Hacking spends considerable time discussing. If a formula and data from empirical observation consistently approximate theoretical prediction, is that bringing us any closer to truth, or just substantiating a theory that purports to stand for truth? Perhaps the substantiation is merely for a given system generally accepted by the larger scientific community at the time of the speculation-calculation-experimentation linkage.

PHILOSOPHY OF SCIENCE
A VERY SHORT INTRODUCTION
By Samir Okasha
Oxford University Press, 2016, 140 pages
Review by Michael Beach
 
The title is very descriptive of the content. The book is one in a long series of ‘very short introductions’ published by Oxford. In an earlier similar review I looked at Simon Critchley’s version of a related topic. One of the major themes of his work was the split between the analytical and continental schools of scientific philosophy. Okasha takes up many themes. I’ll focus here one theme, the continuum between scientism and obscurantism, as an example of unresolved issues within the larger philosophical community. These continuum extremes seem at least partially aligned with analytic and continental philosophies respectively. The issues are central and remain unresolved.
 
Scientism is a belief that only science and the scientific method can expose truth. This approach leads to ignoring information not always testable, yet pertinent, such as the moral application of knowledge. Philosophical outcomes such as the discouragement of humanity through a belief in meaninglessness can follow. Supporters of scientism consider such a concern a non-issue. This outcome might be a logical extension of the arguments of Rudolf Carnap.

Obscurantism emphasizes thought over experiment which can lead to questioning the importance of science. Such questioning encourages speculation with less emphasis on searching out supportive facts. Supporting logic of this approach are a possible extension of the views expressed by Martin Heidegger.

Critchley attempted to seek some balance along the continuum “by defending a notion of phenomenology that aims to undermine scientism without falling into obscurantism” (Critchley 113). He goes on to explain how pre-theoretical experience, or pre-science, is a “reflection upon what precedes reflection.” Perhaps Okasha’s review of the arbitrariness of species classification seeks a similar balance. He also asks the question if science is value-free (Okasha 123). He notes how specialization can make it difficult to move from the micro to the macro.

Philosophical camps still line up along differing points in this continuum, including the absolutes. Though these readings share perspectives, the path to resolution, if there is one, seems foggy at best.
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MICHAEL POLANYI AND HIS GENERATION
By Mary Jo Nye
University of Chicago Press, 2011, 405 pages
​Review by Michael Beach
 
Through the personal history of Michael Polanyi, Mary Jo Nye helps readers through the growth of ideas around how science is influenced by society. The subtitle helps to understand this; ‘Origins of the Social Construction of Science.’

The idea of community relates to groups of people, and how people within the group influence each other. Nye, through Polanyi, makes the case for ‘social construction’. Social implies community. Construction implies group influence. Before reviewing Polanyi’s theoretical loss to Langmuir on the Nernst heat problem, Nye paraphrases Polanyi’s views on the outcomes. She depicts his views as a “controversial description of science as a community of dogmatic traditions and social practices rather than a march of revolutionary ideas and individual genius” (Nye 85).

The word community shares the word root of communication, which implies interaction. In the scientific world, individuals or groups of scientists communicate ideas through formal and informal methods. The community reflects back acceptance or non-acceptance (sometimes both) equally through formal and informal methods.

Chapter 3 in particular shows some of the downs in the up-and-down scientific career of Polanyi. It is probably fair to say he was surrounded by, and was part of, a community of some of the leading minds in chemistry and physics of his day, and of all time. The comment and reflection of that community not only influenced success or failure of his career personally, but also determined future directions of the pursuit of scientific knowledge.

A key example Nye gives is acceptance of Langmuir’s ideas of covalent and electrovalent polar and non-polar bonds over Polanyi’s adsorption theory. Several times she quotes Polanyi as he points to comments by Einstein, Nernst and others indicating that adsorption did not fit with new electron theories (Nye 109). This difficulty held true even given later “consistency of evidence with his new theory” (ibid). The community put more stock in ideas that supported the more recently accepted electron theories almost exclusively. Such was the power of scientific community.

Michael Polanyi’s work with Henry Eyring regarding a temporary transition state of chemical reactions might be seen as a foreshadow of his own transition state as he changed focus from chemistry, to economics and politics, finally settling on the philosophy of science.

The position taken by Polanyi and Erying defines the semi-empirical method in which experience is considered along with mathematical formulaic calculation. An element of probability is included in defining chemical interaction. Based on empirical experimentation, they posited when joining one chemical to a compound of two, the result is a different compound and chemical. They also asserted that during the transition process there is a temporary state in which a single compound composed of all three chemicals exists.

During his time in Budapest and Berlin, Polanyi was focused primarily on chemistry, but there was always some smaller amount of his time in which he considered, and wrote about, economics and politics. After moving to Manchester, the balance of his attention shifted the other way. Others in the chemistry department complained about this attention shift. He put less and less time into the daily lab effort. He even used a concocted chemical apparatus of a vacuum-containing glass to make a graphic explanation of his ideas on Keynesian economics (Nye 159).

Nye argues that Polanyi’s economic preoccupation was a “bridge to his sociologically inflected philosophy of science” (Nye 176). If this ‘bridge’ idea is true, then the original state might be thought of as science, since chemistry is a branch of science. It could be argued that both economics and politics have sociological and philosophical foundations. The mix of all of these areas of contemplation led to the final state of his new ‘intellectual compound’ within the discipline of the philosophy of science. During his 'transitory state', Polanyi was not fully based in science nor the social sciences, but some shifting level of each. The resultant ‘compound’ of the philosophy of science was not the same as the beginning ‘substance’ of science nor the transitory ‘compound’ of science, economics and politics.
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CONTINENTAL PHILOSOPHY
A VERY SHORT INTRODUCTION
By Simon Critchley
Oxford University Press, 2001, 149 pages
 
In the discipline of the philosophy of science and technology, two major schisms have evolved, Continental Philosophy and Analytic Philosophy. In this introductory work, Critchley leads the reader through the historical evolution of the ideas of the Continental school, and those who are its leading proponents. The book is laid out as if a series of lectures, one per chapter. Perhaps that was the author’s use or intent.

An example of one focus of the work would be an examination of to whether Continental and Analytic fundamentals represent an unbridgeable divide or are somewhat complimentary. If truth and wisdom (or meaning) are not the same thing, and according to John Stuart Mill (as depicted by Critchley) a difference in the search of each led to such a strong division among generations of philosophers, then why would some philosophers such as Critchley argue the necessity of both rather one over the other?

This ‘why’ question asked includes several premises spoken of throughout the work; the existence of the two schools, the difference of focus for each, the division of rhetoric between them, and attempts by some to enhance or lessen the division. The question asks for opinion, yet would require a respondent to share some data to give credence to their conclusion. To answer the question with evidence would presume some examples of philosophical debate that either seeks to depict difference, or show complementarity between the Analytical and Continental approaches.
The question itself is a short ‘why’, but the prelude lays out a more complicated compound list of premises to show motivation to the question. A respondent may consider whether each or any of the premises are true, or even if any philosophers (including Critchley) actually made the argument asserted.

One such as Critchley considering a response, could approach the answer as a cynic. They may think nobody really argues in favor of complementarity, and seek to disprove that assertion. They might alternatively be a believer. In which case their answer may seek not only to show examples of publicized papers in favor of complementarity, but also argue the position themselves. In an attempt to lay out an introductory approach, Critchley does both.

The goal of the question may be provoking, as it depicts an assumption of philosophers either seeking separation or coexistence. The answer would lead the answerer to take sides around the idea of whether separation or complementarity exist, and why the respondent tends to agree with one, or at least why they feel Critchley agreed with one. The question skews toward complementarity over division since proponents of complementarity, like Critchley, are the focus. Perhaps the question then is leading toward a future seeking more cohesion in the academic discipline of philosophy.

EINSTEIN’S CLOCKS, POINCARE’S MAPS
By Peter Galison
W.W. Norton & Company, 2003, 389 pages
 
Galison walks the reader through a significant shift in scientific thought through the contemporary history of the two titled scientists. Both were examining issues related to interactions of space and time. Einstein is obviously the more famous outside scientific circles. Both were approaching the subject in connection with some famous mathematical equations published by physicist James Clerk Maxwell. These two were not alone. Many others (Gauss, Plank, Ampere, Faraday, etc.) created theories around his ideas to later be widely adopted in this area Maxwell explored on electromagnetism.
 
Poincare was interested, among other things, in creating widely adopted convention on both the reference longitude grid of the globe, and a method for setting a universal time system. The practical goals led him to some larger theoretical conclusions. He was a few decades ahead of the younger Einstein, and both referenced some of the same theoretical works that preceded them. Einstein was less interested in setting a universal standard, as we was in trying to understand relationships among space, time, and relative speed.
 
It seems like there were two larger differences between these two theorists. Poincare wanted to have a central reference point from which to compare other similar points within time and space. He also believed in the long held assumption of the existence of an aether in space, meaning an undefined substance that exists everywhere. Einstein was not worried about either of these. He was looking for a way to explain any motion or time relative to any other motion or time. He also simply ignored mathematical considerations of trying to account for an unknown substance such as the aether. Ultimately, we all know which view of physics became the ‘standard’ in our day.
 
For Poincare, it is not important how one measures time, distance, etc. so long as all agree to the system. The French were looking for a rationalized (specifically decimal-based) system. For example Galison notes that Poincare and others complained that one needs three measurements for time (h, m, s) or for global positioning (d, m, s). Setting measurements on multiples of 24 or 360 as was and still is the norm, is arguably more complex and less arithmetically friendly than a 10-based system such as a 10 hour day or a circle (the globe) divided by 100 degrees.

All measurement is about convention (an adoption consensus). For example, Galison points out how Greenwich, England seemed to win out over Paris on the prime meridian argument because 70% of shipping captains of the day were already using it as such. There was actually a fairly strong competition between England and France over where the prime meridian should be located. Greenwich and Paris had the two most well-established astronomical observatories and both argued for the longitude of their particular location as the prime.

Literally any system can be adopted, and often is adopted, on false belief. Galison himself falls into such a trap at the bottom of page 34 where he describes finding latitude as 'simple' by noting the position of the polar star. Sadly, that only works for the northern hemisphere leaving out half of the globe! Northern countries 'decided' or 'adopted' a system assuming latitude based on this format (equator is 0 degrees, pole is 90 degrees) then simply applied the same logic in the opposite direction to get a north and south latitude scheme. It might have been just as effective to say the south pole was 0 degrees and the north pole 180 degrees (or any other scale, or in the opposite direction for that matter), and not start based on the north star with a northern hemisphere focus. Since northern (and most assuredly European) explorers and mariners adopted the polar star method for navigational convenience the system based on the 360-degree angular representation became the normal approach. Similar astronomical navigation was adopted in the Middle-East and Asia using the polar star.

Peter Galison makes a great case about how science is advanced through individual genius applied to the earlier thoughts of other individuals of genius. Seeking for practical answers, such as Poincare, can lead to larger theoretical explanatory attempts. The opposite is also true. For Einstein, the practical need for synchronized time inspired him, but he never really tried to invent methods for time synchronization. This work helps make the case that science is a social effort. Poincare’s desire to hold onto the idea of an aether, for example, became a roadblock for him. Galison makes a good case that he held to conservative assumptions because of his leadership roles within the hierarchy of established French scientific institutions. Einstein, on the other hand, created the base of what became his special and general theories of relativity while working in the Swiss patent office. Without the institutional trappings, Galison argues, Einstein was able to let go of long-held scientific assumptions. 
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​THE AMBITIONS OF CURIOSITY
By G.E.R. Lloyd
Cambridge University Press, 2002, 175 pages
 
In this work Lloyd contrasts learning in ancient Greece and China. There is a deep look at both the methods of patronage by those in authority, as well as the emergence of brokers who connected scholars with patrons. He also reviews how technology was view differently in these two very different cultures.
 
I wonder if there is a form of codependency between the documented cycles predicting future events in the Chinese publications described by Lloyd, and the emperor and courtiers whose reputations rode on the outcomes. For example Lloyd points out that when a predicted event does not occur it is thought of as a sign that the emperor has special power to hold back the event, but if an event happens that was not predicted it was thought indicative of neglect of some sort on his part. It would be fair to assume, as does Lloyd, that if the emperor looks bad it would go poorly for his wise men who were supposed to help him know these things. Whereas events were supposedly dependent on predictableness and the strength of documentation, so too was the emperor likewise dependent on the strength of the documentation.
 
Similar metaphysics existed in Greek culture in relation to the Pantheon. Omens were both feared and sought after. Courtiers, or ‘wise men’, at times were from religious institutions, other times specifically non-religious. In either case, when patronage was attached to an adopted school, the professors of a given school (theoretical if not an actual institution) were personally at risk.
 
Many parallels can be drawn from today. Academics often study and publish at the behest of authority, public or private, in the form of grants or stipends. Science itself can sometimes bear the brunt of poor findings. Case in point could be the example of early believe there was little risk to humans from so-called ‘mad cow disease.’ As we now look at the latest wave of COVID-19, perhaps we should continue to both consider how science ‘progresses’ and how the same structures that encourage the scientific path might also limit inquiry.

​WHO WROTE THE BOOK OF LIFE?
By Lily E. Kay
Stanford University Press, 2000, 441 pages
 


​The subtitle to Kay’s volume reads A History of the Genetic Code. It might better be thought of as a history of the creation of the genetic code. Genetics and the acids forming DNA and RNA existed before human discovery of them, yet Kay makes a point throughout the book as to whether they are expressions of a code. In fact there is a great deal of debate about the analogy of a code that has solidified, and likely narrowed, scientific thinking about the building blocks of living organisms.
 
Kay also walks the reader through the often bumpy history of scientists involved in the organization of scientific thought concerning DNA. Like many sociologists and historians of science, recognition of social factors in scientific discovery continues to grow in acceptance. There are purists who also argue that the facts of science are what makes up science and the context surrounding discovery is not important. Others, like Kay argue context defines discovery, and even can create facts that later prove less factual. This debate of the social construct of science is a central argument of this work by Lily Kay. Is knowledge something we discover, or something we create?
 
Kay disparages the use of code/book/words/etc. as having validity in terms of DNA sequencing. Yet uses many of these ideas (scripture, the Wor(l)d, etc.). Early in the historical record she notes how biological specificity was the guiding principle of genetic study until the language of information and code began to shift scientific approach. Kay notes the raw data grows and is still in research, and despite large investment, genetic therapy is slow in coming. Despite this, the hype encourages social change: alters employment practices, family planning, educational policies, insurance practices, investment portfolios, and cultural attitudes.

INGENIOUS PURSUITS
By Lisa Jardine
Anchor Books, 1999, 444 pages
 

​This historical look at the ‘scientific revolution’ centers on seventeenth century Europe. Many of the most-well-known scientific personalities came to the fore in this mix of philosophical and political upheaval. Jardine helps expose overlaps among fields such as science, engineering and art. Sociological influences point to advantage and disadvantage depending on the culture of the country in question, the gender of the scientist, and how funds availability promoted and detracted efforts.
 
The heart of much of the story of this era circulated around scientific societies. Some of these were formal such as the Royal Society in London, Academie Royale des Sciences in Paris, or their equivalents in Germany, Italy and other countries. Informal societies also influenced who could participate. For example, Salons of wealthy patrons in Paris became a focal point for many women to share their scientific ideas and discoveries.
 
Newton, Kepler, Wren, Hobbes, and others interact across society and political lines. Jardine shares many instances when scientists of warring countries still managed to share information about discoveries. In a few cases such sharing brought charges of spying, but by and large knowledge sharing was encouraged among scientific practitioners. Personal jealousies sometimes encouraged the opposite. Jardine depicts a number of such rivalries and the effects on the scientific community.
 
The stories and topics Jardine shares flow well. The work is readable and the personalities of number of notable ‘characters’ makes for an interesting realistic look into the process of knowledge discovery. In this case the word characters can be taken quite directly, as Jardine even includes a section toward the end she dubs Cast of Characters.
 

FASCIST PIGS
By Tiago Saraiva
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 2016, 326 pages


Most Significant Arguments

In the book Fascist Pigs, Tiago Saraiva puts a focus on agriculture as a technology that influenced decisions made in the Fascist leadership of Italy, Portugal and Germany from WWI through WWII. The work also notes how Fascist philosophy guided decisions by agro-geneticists and breeders. As a result of the experience of low food supplies and dependence on other countries for food, these governments each came to a vision or goal of being food independent. That led to a search for breeding programs of plants and animals that would have desired characteristics in the given country. Geneticists took their signals from leaders and focused efforts along the path of seeking “elite breeds”. When some success was had, the ideas expanded to such application on humans as well. That led to the horrific effects of separating races and “defective” people for “elimination.” Laws were passed to encourage or pressure farmers to participate in programs. There were military interventions to ensure compliance. The language around agro-programs used mystical and militaristic language such as “Battle of Wheat”. Nationalism was equated with farming through language as well such as plants, animals and people being “rooted in the land”. Ultimately selection in each area was approached in the form of pedigrees and performance tests. Interestingly, in most cases there was difficulty ensuring/documenting pedigrees. For example German pigs were sometimes not documented through enough generations to make the official requirement, so scientists began to gather data through eugenics. Similarly when recruiting SS soldiers the effort to establish an applicant’s genealogy was often not possible, so verbal acceptance of SS values and satisfactory performance in training was sufficient.

All three countries also grew through colonialism in eastern Europe and throughout Africa. Such colonialism justified managing breeds, sending "pioneers" to occupy lands, and subjugation of local populations as cheap labor. 

Comparison with Other Readings

One area in particular stood out to me. On page 116 Saraiva discusses the mix of “Front Pigs” meaning successful breeders who produce the preferred specimens, and “subsistence breeders” meaning those who produced pigs that did not meet the preferred standards. This made me think of readings comparing technology innovators with maintainers. Russell and Vinsel (see attached file below), for example, mention that when it comes to technology maintenance, typically effort is 2% preventative and 98% repair, meaning maintenance is viewed of less value. Even if Germany didn’t achieve the level of innovation they targeted (meaning preferred breeds of pigs or potatoes) it would be interesting to understand the comparison between the number of compliant pigs compared to the “subsistence” pigs.

Strengths and Weaknesses

The linking of strategic approaches to agriculture with a country’s overall strategy makes for a strong argument. In particular showing agricultural and political outcomes from overarching philosophies brings some clarity to me as a reader. Throughout the work Saraiva draws attention to the “uniqueness” of this line of thinking (comparing the technology of agriculture with the philosophy of government). Pointing out the uniqueness of the argument sometimes comes off as criticism of other historians in general for not having come to similar conclusions.
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I like linking of seemingly unrelated areas to show truth. Patterns can reveal truth, and I think that approach could be helpful in my future papers. Others who might find this line of thinking helpful could be government strategists, scientific ethicists, political philosophers, and maybe cultural anthropologists.
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