The 1983 National Academy of Sciences report entitled "Changing Climate," authored by a committee of physical and social scientists chaired by William Nierenberg, was an early comprehensive review of the effects of human-caused increases in the levels of atmospheric CO2. Study of the events surrounding the committee's creation, deliberations, and subsequent report demonstrates that the conclusions of the report were the consensus of the entire committee and in line with the scientific consensus of the time. This result contraverts a 2008 paper in which Naomi Oreskes, Erik M. Conway, and Matthew Shindell asserted that the report contradicted a growing consensus about climate change, and that Nierenberg for political reasons deliberately altered the summary and conclusions of the report in a way that played down the concerns of the other physical scientists on the committee. Examining the production of the report and contextualizing it in contemporaneous scientific and political discussion, we instead show how it was a multi-year effort with work divided among the various members of the committee according to their expertise. The synthesis and conclusions were expressly a joint statement of the committee and were consistent with other assessments of that time expressing deep concern over the potential issues while stopping short of recommending major policy changes due to the uncertainties, and to a lack of good alternatives.

Biologists in the 1960s witnessed a period of intense intra-disciplinary negotiations, especially the positioning of organismic biologists relative to molecular biologists. The perceived valorization of the physical sciences by "molecular" biologists became a catalyst creating a unified front of "organismic" biology that incorporated not just evolutionary biologists, but also students of animal behavior, ecology, systematics, botany - in short, almost any biological community that predominantly conducted their research in the field or museum and whose practitioners felt the pinch of the prestige and funding accruing to molecular biologists and biochemists. Ernst Mayr, Theodosius Dobzhansky, and George Gaylord Simpson took leading roles in defending alternatives to what they categorized as the mechanistic approach of chemistry and physics applied to living systems - the "equally wonderful field of organismic biology." Thus, it was through increasingly tense relations with molecular biology that organismic biologists cohered into a distinct community, with their own philosophical grounding, institutional security, and historical identity. Because this identity was based in large part on a fundamental rejection of the physical sciences as a desirable model within biology, organismic biologists succeeded in protecting the future of their field by emphasizing deep divisions that ran through the biological sciences as a whole.

During the Third Reich, the biological institutes of the Kaiser Wilhelm Society (KWG, Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gesellschaft) underwent a substantial reorganization and modernization. This paper discusses the development of projects in the fields of biochemical genetics, virus research, radiation genetics, and plant genetics that were initiated in those years. These cases exemplify, on the one hand, the political conditions for biological research in the Nazi state. They highlight how leading scientists advanced their projects by building close ties with politicians and science-funding organizations and companies. On the other hand, the study examines how the contents of research were shaped by, and how they contributed to, the aims and needs of the political economy of the Nazi system. This paper therefore aims not only to highlight basic aspects of scientific development under Nazism, but also to provide general insights into the structure of the Third Reich and the dynamics of its war economy.

This paper explores the research and administrative efforts of Ernest Brown Babcock, head of the Division of Genetics in the College of Agriculture at the University of California, Berkeley, the first academic unit so named in the United States. It explores the rationale for his choice of "model organism," the development--and transformation--of his ambitious genetics research program centering on the weedy plant genus named "Crepis" (commonly known as the hawkbeard), along with examining in detail the historical development of the understanding of genetic mechanisms of evolutionary change in plants leading to the period of the evolutionary synthesis. Chosen initially as the plant counterpart of Thomas Hunt Morgan's "Drosophila melanogaster," the genus "Crepis" instead came to serve as the counterpart of Theodosius Dobzhansky's "Drosophila pseudoobscura," leading the way in plant evolutionary genetics, and eventually providing the first comprehensive systematic treatise of any genus that was part of the movement known as biosystematics, or the "new" systematics. The paper also suggests a historical rethinking of the application of the terms model organism, research program, and experimental system in the history of biology.

The Swedish naturalist Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778) is reputed to have transformed botanical practice by shunning the process of illustrating plants and relying on the primacy of literary descriptions of plant specimens. Botanists and historians have long debated Linnaeus's capacities as a draftsman. While some of his detailed sketches of plants and insects reveal a sure hand, his more general drawings of landscapes and people seem ill-executed. The overwhelming consensus, based mostly on his Lapland diary (1732), is that Linnaeus could not draw. Little has been said, however, on the role of drawing and other visual representations in Linnaeus's daily work as seen in his other numerous manuscripts. These manuscripts, held mostly at the Linnean Society of London, are peppered with sketches, maps, tables, and diagrams. Reassessing these manuscripts, along with the printed works that also contain illustrations of plant species, shows that Linnaeus's thinking was profoundly visual and that he routinely used visual representational devices in his various publications. This paper aims to explore the full range of visual representations Linnaeus used through his working life, and to reevaluate the epistemological value of visualization in the making of natural knowledge. By analyzing Linnaeus's use of drawings, maps, tables, and diagrams, I will show that he did not, as has been asserted, reduce the discipline of botany to text, and that his visual thinking played a fundamental role in his construction of new systems of classification.

The peasantry played a central role in National Socialist ideology, as both a source of racial strength and a foundation of the economy. In this paper I explore the extent to which the regime's policies actually favored peasant farming. The first section looks at the overall character of agricultural policy and demonstrates that although peasant farmers were targeted for special assistance from 1933 until 1936, they were neglected thereafter as the economy geared up for war. In the second section I focus upon a particular set of policies—-the regime's attempts to promote the use of high-quality seed—-and show that while farmers as a whole probably gained from these measures, peasants appear not to have benefited differentially. In the third section I examine agricultural officials' attempts to establish a "division of labor" between public-sector plant breeding institutions and commercial breeders. I demonstrate that although the former had been successfully developing new varieties specifically designed for peasant farmers since the turn of the century, this work was henceforth to be curtailed so as not to "compete" with the private sector. In the conclusion I argue that neither the regime's policies on plant breeding nor the highly centralized character of agricultural policy-making can be regarded as specifically fascist.

In the last quarter of the twentieth century, an innovative three-dimensional graphical technique was introduced into biological oceanography and ecology, where it spread rapidly. Used to improve scientists' understanding of the importance of scale within oceanic ecosystems, this influential diagram addressed biological scales from phytoplankton to fish, physical scales from diurnal tides to ocean currents, and temporal scales from hours to ice ages. Yet the Stommel Diagram (named for physical oceanographer Henry Stommel, who created it in 1963) had not been devised to aid ecological investigations. Rather, Stommel intended it to help plan large-scale research programs in physical oceanography, particularly as Cold War research funding enabled a dramatic expansion of physical oceanography in the 1960s. Marine ecologists utilized the Stommel Diagram to enhance research on biological production in ocean environments, a key concern by the 1970s amid growing alarm about overfishing and ocean pollution. Before the end of the twentieth century, the diagram had become a significant tool within the discipline of ecology. Tracing the path that Stommel's graphical techniques traveled from the physical to the biological environmental sciences reveals a great deal about practices in these distinct research communities and their relative professional and institutional standings in the Cold War era. Crucial to appreciating the course of that path is an understanding of the divergent intellectual and social contexts of the physical versus the biological environmental sciences.

This article uses the voluminous public discourse around Rachel Carson and her controversial bestseller "Silent Spring" to explore Americans' views on science and scientists. Carson provides a particularly interesting case study because of intense and public debates over whether she was a scientist at all, and therefore whether her book should be granted legitimacy as science. Her career defied easy classification, as she acted variously as writer, activist, and environmentalist in addition to scientist. Defending her work as legitimate science, which many though not all commentators did, therefore became an act of defining what both science and scientists could and should be. This article traces the variety of nonscientific images and narratives readers and writers assigned to Carson, such as 'reluctant crusader' and 'scientist-poet'. It argues that nonscientific attributes were central to legitimating her as both admirable person and admirable scientist. It explores how debates over "Silent Spring" can be usefully read as debates over the desirability of putatively nonscientific attributes in the professional work of a scientist. And it examines the nature of Carson's very democratized image for changing notions of science and scientists in 1960s United States politics and culture.

This paper looks at the conditions of the emergence of "race" as a new scientific category during the eighteenth century, arguing that two modes of discourse and visualization played a significant role: that on society, civility, and civilization -- as found principally in the travel literature -- and that on nature, as found in natural history writings, especially in botanical classifications. The European colonizing enterprise had resulted in an extensive flow of new objects at every level. Visual representations of these new objects circulated in the European cultural world and were transferred and transformed within travelogue and natural history writings. The nature, boundaries, and potentialities of humankind were discussed in this exchange within the conceptual grid of classifications and their visual representations. Over the course of the century the discourse on society, civility, and civilization collapsed into the discourse on nature. Humans became classified and visually represented along the same lines as flora, according to similar assumptions about visible features. Concurrently, these visible features were related necessarily to bundles of social, civilized, and cognitive characteristics taken from the discourse on society, civility, civilization, as found in the contemporaneous travelogue.

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Since the 1930s scientists from fields such as biochemistry, pathology, immunology, genetics, neuroscience, and nutrition have studied the relation of dietary caloric intake to longevity and aging. This paper discusses how Clive Maine McCay, a professor of animal husbandry at Cornell University, began his investigation of the topic and promoted it as a productive research program in the multidisciplinary science of gerontology. Initially, McCay observed the effect of reduced-calorie diets on life span and senescence while pursuing his nutrition research in the context of animal husbandry and agriculture. But when he received funding from the Rockefeller Foundation and started to participate in the establishment of gerontology during the 1930s, the scope of his research was considerably expanded beyond his original disciplinary domain. It became a multidisciplinary research program that attracted scholars from a variety of scientific and medical disciplines. This paper argues that through this expansion McCay's research created a means of maintaining cooperation among the diverse and heterogeneous academic fields constituting gerontology.

This article argues that "genetic modernism" in seeds was simultaneously a technoscientific and a political project that materialized under wartime Vichy's proto-fascist regime and that contributed to shaping and legitimizing Vichy as a "planner state." The constitution of the genetically homogeneous cultivar as a scientific object, a market commodity, and a state policy object went hand in hand during the Vichy regime. A new biopolitical connection between state and seeds emerged, in which seeds were considered a priority target for state intervention because they were seen as the easiest path toward transforming agricultural practices so as to meet pressing needs for a sufficient and autonomous food supply (autarky). The state acquired the power of life and death over plant genomes in the nation's landscapes and enacted a phytoeugenics that was both positive (aiming to encourage the diffusion of varieties deemed healthy or higher yielding) and negative (aiming to suppress varieties deemed obsolete). The ontology of "genetic modernism" considered living beings as having an intrinsic genetic identity, sealed off from the vagaries of the environment, and favored serial and stable forms of life, which were achieved materially through the production of plant populations composed of isogenotypic individuals (clones, pure lines, F1 hybrids). Such pure line ontology, planned seed-economy practices, and metrological arrangements articulated a biopolitics geared towards superseding a nexus of biocultural crop evolutionary processes under farmers' management with centralized planning of genetic progress. This turned Vichy France into a huge biopolitical laboratory. It also left major legacies in the post–World War II decades.

The American response to Lysenkoism took place at a crucial moment in the evolving relationship between science and the public. Like many professional scientific organizations in the early Cold War, the Genetics Society of America (GSA) resisted involvement in political issues. In contrast to similar societies in the physical sciences, however, the geneticists' silence cannot be explained solely by the fear of financial or political repercussions. Rather, the GSA's reluctance to engage in political discussion reflected an ongoing debate within the scientific community on the proper role for professional societies in political controversy. Those geneticists who did become embroiled in the controversy did so as individuals rather than as emissaries of the profession. Geneticists H.J. Muller, L.C. Dunn, and Theodosius Dobzhansky attempted to reach the public through a variety of outlets, including books, magazines, newspapers, and the radio, but their interventions were shaped by their individual personal and political commitments. The GSA, in contrast, attempted to combat the spread of Lysenkoism with the help of a public relations firm and a Golden Jubilee celebration of the rediscovery of Mendel's laws. The messy story of the American response to the Lysenko crisis demonstrates the limits of scientists' political involvement during the early Cold War.

This paper aims to show the links between rice genetics and the corporatist political economy of early Francoism. After investigating the transition from prewar rice producers' associations to a new federation embedded in a vertical union, I identify three main novelties of the new organization: its national scope, its need to address lack of supply rather than overproduction, and its hierarchical functioning. I then focus on the one state-owned agricultural station devoted to rice research, showing how its agricultural scientists shaped, and relied on, the state-controlled unions, both for producing and distributing new varieties of rice and for controlling the seeds farmers used. Finally, I explore how this relationship made it possible for the scientists to test, multiply, and distribute throughout the Spanish landscape the seeds they produced at the laboratory, thus putting hierarchical unity and autarky to work and demonstrating the role of scientists as active agents of state formation and landscape transformation within a corporatist political economy.

The rise of experimentation and the decline of natural history constitute the historiographic backbone to most narratives about the history of the life sciences in the twentieth century. As I argue here, however, natural history practices, such as the collection adn comparison of data from numerous species, adn experimental practices have actually converged throughout the century, giving rise to a new hybrid research culture which is essential to the contemporary life sciences. Looking at some examples of researchers who studied experimentally the relationships between organisms offers a unique window into how the norms, values, and practices of natural history entered the laboratory and, conversely, how the norms, values, and practices of experimentation transformed natural history. this paper concentrates on a largely overlooked episode in the history of the life sciences: the development of Alan A. Boyden's serological taxonomy. In the United States, from the late 1920s to the early 1960s, he was the most prominent advocate of this experimental approach in natural history. His quest for an objective method to understand the relationships among species, his creation of a serological museum where he could apply his comparative perspective, and his continued negotiations between natural historical and experimental traditions, illustrate the rise of a new hybrid research culture in the twentieth century. It also helps us solve a historiographic puzzle, namely how biological diversity become so central in the experimental life sciences, i.e., in a tradition which we generally understand as having focused on a few model organisms, and which relegated the study of biodiversity to naturalists and their museums.

This paper explores the role of scientists in the building of fascist regimes in Italy and Portugal by focusing on plant geneticists' participation in the Italian and Portuguese wheat wars for bread self-sufficiency. It looks closely at the work undertaken by Nazareno Strampelli at the National Institute of Genetics for Grain Cultivation (Italy) and by António Sousa da Câmara at the National Agronomic Experiment Station (Portugal), both of whom took wheat as their prime experimental object of genetics research. The main argument is that the production of standardized organisms—the breeder's elite seeds—in laboratory spaces is deeply entangled with their circulation through extended distribution networks that allowed for their massive presence in Italian and Portuguese landscapes such as the Po Valley and the Alentejo. The narrative pays particular attention to the historical development of fascist regimes in the two countries, advancing the argument that breeders' artifacts were key components of the institutionalization of the new political regimes.

This article describes the relationship between Polish geneticist Stanisław Skowron's views on eugenics during the interwar period, his experiences in Nazi concentration camps during World War II, and his response to Trofim D. Lysenko's ban on genetic research in Soviet-allied states after 1948. Skowron was educated at the Jagiellonian University in Krakow and received funding from the Rockefeller Foundation to study in the United States, Italy, Denmark, and Great Britain from 1924 to 1926. His exposure to research being conducted outside of Poland made him an important figure in Polish genetics. During this time Skowron also began to believe that an understanding of biological principles of heredity could play an important role in improving Polish society and became a supporter of eugenics. In 1939 he was arrested along with other faculty members at the Jagiellonian and sent to Sachsenhausen and Dachau. In 1947 he published the first book updating Polish biologists on recent developments in genetics; however, after learning of the outcome of the 1948 session of the Lenin All-Union Academy of Agricultural Sciences in Moscow, Skowron emerged as on of the most vocal advocates for Michurinism. I argue that Skowron's conversion to Lysenkoism was motivated by more than fear or opportunism, and is better understood as the product of his need to rationalize his own support for a theory he could not possibly have believed was correct.

In 1935, the graylag goose Martina (1935-?) hatched from an egg in the home of the zoologist Konrad Lorenz (1903-1989). Martina imprinted on Lorenz, slept in his bedroom, mated with the gander Martin, and flew off in 1937. Over the following decades, Konrad Lorenz helped to establish the discipline of ethology, received a share of the 1973 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine, and continued to write about his famous goose Martina. This essay examines the different instantiations of the geese in general, and Martina in particular, in Lorenz's writings aimed at readerships that included prewar zoologists, National Socialist psychologists, and popular audiences from the 1930s to 1980s. By developing an animal with her own biography, Lorenz created an individual whose lived and rhetorical agency made her especially well suited to perform widely divergent aspects of his evolving science. While a significant literature in the history of science has explored the standardization and stabilization of animals in science, I show how Lorenz's creation of a highly protean and increasingly public Martina was co-constitutive of the establishment of the science and public persona.