If you have interest in the philosophy of science you may be interested in the journal Isis. It is mostly a journal by subscription but many times select articles are for free. Here is a sample.
Focus: Historicizing “Popular Science”
Jonathan R. Topham
Jonathan R. Topham
While historical studies of “popular science,” variously conceived, have grown in number and sophistication, they have sometimes seemed marginal to the discipline. James Secord's recent call to reintegrate the histories of both science popularization and science in popular culture within a more comprehensive history of “knowledge in transit” promises to overcome this marginalization. At the same time, however, Secord suggests that “popular science” should be abandoned as a “neutral descriptive term” because it is historically freighted, not least with “diffusionist baggage.” This Focus section explores the historical and historiographical implications of abandoning an essentialist definition of “popular science” and of examining instead its complex and varied history as an actors' category during the last two centuries. The essays emphasize the importance of transnational and interdisciplinary perspectives in exploring the very diverse ways in which the discourses and practices of “popular science” have been employed. In addition, they consider the implications of the modernity of such discourses and practices for the history of science in the longue durée.
HISTORICAL STUDIES OF “POPULAR SCIENCE”—viewed variously as science popularization and as science (or natural knowledge) in popular culture—have not only proliferated in recent decades; they have also become increasingly sophisticated in their historiographies. For many within the history of science, however, they have continued to appear marginal rather than fundamental to the discipline. In part, this has resulted from the difficulty of establishing a larger theoretical framework in which such work can be related to the discipline as a whole. Indeed, in a now‐classic article, published in 1994, Roger Cooter and Stephen Pumfrey strove to demonstrate that “the history of popular science” was inevitably fragmented. The coherence that had previously been achieved by making “science popularization” the object of study was false, they claimed, since it privileged “authorized science” and “stunted the investigation of science in popular culture as a result.” At the same time, they argued, “science in popular culture” could not be made the object of study of a separate subdiscipline, since doing so would involve a naive disregard of the manner in which the “élitism of scientific discourse immediately delegitimizes popular experiences and epistemologies of ‘nature.’” In the one case, the slippage between “popular science” in the dative case (science for the people) and “popular science” in the genitive and ablative cases (the science of or by the people) had led to the perpetuation of a diffusionist mentality. In the other case, the attempt to separate the two had proved ill founded, since all natural knowledge—even the radical transmutationism of street demagogues or the Mosaic geology of biblical literalists—was unavoidably entangled with established science, itself often known through popularization. These are serious, if not necessarily insuperable, concerns, and they have left the subject “bereft of master narratives.”1 Nevertheless, it is surely desirable that historians transcend the fragmentation of isolated case studies and discover common themes and methods that allow research to progress within a larger framework that facilitates comparative perspectives.
One way of achieving this, while remaining alive to Cooter and Pumfrey's concerns, is to reintegrate the histories both of science popularization and of science in popular culture within a reconceptualized history of science in which science is understood, to use James Secord's phrase, as “a form of communicative action.” In “Knowledge in Transit,” Secord urges the importance of applying to our historical practice the well‐established theoretical insight that there is no genuine separation between the making and the communication of knowledge. Questions of “how knowledge travels, to whom it is available, and how agreement is achieved” are, he points out, fundamental to the making of knowledge, and in this sense the process of knowledge making involves communication, rather than merely being followed by it. Secord's new approach thus places the practices of science popularization firmly within the process of knowledge making, alongside such other communicative practices as talking and note taking in laboratory or field, writing research papers, defending research findings within learned societies and congresses, advising on government policy as an expert witness, and teaching students in classrooms and laboratories. Similarly, it makes the place of science in popular culture central to understanding how the knowledge claims of scientific elites were established in relation to the full range of competing knowledge claims within a culture. In Secord's hands, the history of popular science disappears as a disciplinary subfield, only to reappear at the heart of the discipline. Moreover, he goes so far as to advocate (as I have done elsewhere) that “‘popular science’ and its cognates” would be better abandoned as “neutral descriptive term[s],” since they have “an exceptionally rich and multivocal history” and tend to carry “diffusionist baggage” with them.2
Secord's radical proposal regarding the reintegration of the history of popular science within a larger history of “knowledge in transit” offers a powerful means of establishing a coherent framework of analysis, while avoiding the pitfalls identified by Cooter and Pumfrey. It is this approach, of course, that underpins his signal achievement in Victorian Sensation, in which, by studying the processes of communication associated with Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation—a work formerly understood primarily as part of a history of popular science—he is able to provide a radically revisionist account of the “Darwinian revolution.” Subjecting Vestiges to “the most comprehensive analysis of the reading of any book other than the Bible ever undertaken,” he shows how the engagement of a wide range of individuals and groups with the book, made possible as a consequence of the industrial transformation in the supply of print media, was a “turning point” in the process by which evolution took a pivotal role in the public arena in Britain. Moreover, rather than creating a crisis, Darwin's Origin of Species helped resolve the tensions between scientific specialists critical of Vestiges' science and those for whom its developmental cosmology represented the basis for a reformation of society. Thus, he claims, “what once made sense as the ‘Darwinian Revolution’ must be recast as an episode in the industrialization of communication and the transformation of reading audiences.”3 In my view, this worked example amply demonstrates the value and robustness of Secord's solution to the “popular science” conundrum.
WHY HISTORICIZE “POPULAR SCIENCE”?
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If, like Secord, we are to believe that what historians once studied as “popular science” should now be studied as part of a wider economy of “knowledge in transit,” why should Isis devote a Focus section to “popular science” at all? The answer lies in Secord's observation that, as an actors' category, “popular science” has a complex and varied history and has accomplished diverse ends for those who have used it. While it may fail us as a fixed and supposedly neutral descriptive vocabulary to be applied retrospectively to past events, the lexicon of “popular science,” and the work that it has done for historical actors, is itself richly deserving of historical study. Just as historians have increasingly paid attention to the work done by such key historical concepts as “genius” and “objectivity,” so there is much to be gained by historicizing “popular science” and cognate concepts.4 When and where did such notions originate? What ambiguities and complexities have they exhibited, and in what diverse and perhaps conflicting ways have they been used? How has their meaning and use changed over time, and what differences and continuities have their histories exhibited in different regions, countries, and languages?
It is not the object of this Focus section to answer such questions systematically but, rather, to reflect on the consequences of historicizing “popular science” in this way. Taken as actors' categories, the diverse international lexicons of “popular science,” “science populaire,” and “Populärwissenschaft” (to mention just three linguistic variations) have been used to organize scientific activity and discourse for barely two centuries. They are unmistakably phenomena of modern times. To some extent, they share common origins in Europe and North America in such large‐scale changes as the industrialization of print communication and the emergence of the disciplinary sciences. Yet, as several of the contributors emphasize here, highly diverse factors also operated in their histories in different countries and language groups. Furthermore, while there were identifiable moments in history at which such notions as “popular science” began to be used to organize the production and status of knowledge, they were contested from the outset, acquiring multiple meanings and being endlessly reinvented over time. Indeed, just as the discourses and practices of “popular science” came into currency at a historically specific moment, there is no reason why they may not pass out of currency again and become obsolete. In an age in which competing neologisms from PUS (Public Understanding of Science) to PEST (Public Engagement in Science and Technology) are offered as alternatives to “popular science,” we are particularly obliged, as Bernadette Bensaude‐Vincent points out in her contribution to this Focus section, to be historically reflexive.
It was to the broad historiographical ramifications of recognizing this short, modern history of “popular science” that the contributors to this Focus section were invited to address themselves. Moreover, by involving scholars whose historical expertise encompassed several disciplines and a number of temporal and geographical loci—ranging over the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and including Britain, France, Germany, and the United States—the section was intended to develop comparative perspectives. The essays that follow thus provide a rich array of historiographical reflections on the significance of the historicity of “popular science” for the history of science. First, Andreas Daum examines certain “imbalances” in the existing historiography of “popular science” to urge the need for more comparative and transnational perspectives, concluding that the field ultimately needs to be integrated into a larger interdisciplinary history of public knowledge. Ralph O'Connor's essay continues this interdisciplinary emphasis, drawing valuable insights from cultural and literary history in order to provide an incisive reassessment of how “popular science” should be handled, both as an actors' and as a historians' category. Katherine Pandora's essay returns to the transnational theme, examining “popular science” in the antebellum United States to emphasize both its temporal and geographic diversity and its fundamental importance to the scientific enterprise. Finally, Bernadette Bensaude‐Vincent uses the recent changes in the conceptualization of “popular science” to illuminate its history over the last two centuries, before suggesting the need to develop a longue durée history of science and its “others.” While the contributors' perspectives are thus productively diverse, I seek in this introduction to draw out several common themes that run through them. First, I review the importance of transnational and interdisciplinary perspectives in developing the history of “popular science.” Second, I consider how such a time‐delimited history might be situated in relation to the historical longue durée. Finally, I conclude with a brief assessment of the value to the discipline at large of these historicized approaches to “popular science.”
TRANSNATIONAL AND INTERDISCIPLINARY PERSPECTIVES
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In seeking to explore the historicity of “popular science” and its cognates, several of the contributors are able to draw on increasingly well‐developed national histories of popular science to emphasize the radically different manner in which these discourses and practices have been developed and deployed in different countries. This is particularly evident in relation to linguistic differences in the vocabulary of “popular science,” as both Bensaude‐Vincent and Daum have previously noted. For instance, the neologism “vulgariser,” which Bensaude‐Vincent and Anne Rasmussen see as supplanting the more inclusive “populariser” in late nineteenth‐century France, has no proper equivalent in English. Similarly, the nineteenth‐century German vocabulary of “Wissenschaftspopularisierung” cannot properly be rendered as “science popularization” because, as Daum points out, the meaning of “Wissenschaft” extends so much further than the English word “science.”5 Such linguistic fractures emphasize the multiform history of “popular science.” However, even in two countries that share a common language and heritage, the development of the notion of “popular science” clearly exhibits significant differences. An excellent example of this is found in Pandora's account of the radically divergent notions of “popular science” that developed in early nineteenth‐century Britain and the antebellum United States, notwithstanding that the terminology and some of the key publications were imported from one to the other. For Pandora, the comparison not only points up the distinctive democratizing republican ethos of the antebellum United States but also highlights the singularity of the British context, which has sometimes (as Daum points out) seemed normative.
Such transnational studies, involving not merely comparisons between nations but also an appreciation of their interconnectedness, clearly have much to offer the historian of “popular science”—as of science more generally. However, despite the burgeoning of studies of “popular science” in different national contexts, little has yet been done to establish such perspectives. In the vanguard has been the research group “Science and Technology in the European Periphery” (STEP), which has fostered research on the transmission of scientific knowledge between centers and peripheries in Europe and has recently turned its attention to “popular science.” For these scholars, popularization is “one of the practices of appropriation” by which scientific and technological knowledge has moved around and been transformed within Europe. One of their key findings is that “popular science” had a significant role to play in the “discourse of modernity” and “the construction of the perception of a national scientific culture” in several “peripheral” countries, in a way quite distinct from its role in France, Germany, and Britain. In a somewhat analogous manner, Eugenia Roldán Vera's study of the export of William Pinnock's educational catechisms to newly independent Spanish‐American countries in the early nineteenth century exposes the manner in which “science popularization” was there “linked to the needs of legitimacy of the new political elites” and “was inscribed in a process of import of foreign scientific models and in the context of a relation of economic domination by the emerging European powers.”6 By outlining the ideological malleability and transnational appropriation of notions of “popular science,” these pioneering studies help to expose both the historical contingency and the interconnectedness of such notions in different contexts.
In addition to highlighting the manifold ideological constructions of “popular science” in different geographical contexts, several of the essays here also emphasize the extent to which the “scientific” element of it has varied historically and geographically. In English, of course, the term “science” was long applied to any formal department of learning, but in the early nineteenth century it came increasingly to be applied exclusively to “natural and physical science.” It was in this highly restricted sense that “popular science” and “science popularization” came into English usage (in stark contrast, as we have seen, to “Wissenschaftspopularisierung”). Moreover, as O'Connor points out, this transformation was accompanied by related changes, including the development of the distinction between “scientific” and “literary” productions. Such changes in the map of knowledge again require the historian to de‐essentialize “popular science” and to examine carefully its shifting and contested boundaries with other aspects of culture. Several of the contributors to this Focus section urge the importance of these interdisciplinary perspectives. For instance, O'Connor points out the extent to which the history of “popular science” can benefit by appreciating the literary craft of “popular science” writing and by applying to it a more adequate understanding of genre. Similarly, Pandora points out interesting parallels between increasingly expert‐dominated notions of popular science in the United States at the end of the nineteenth century and what Lawrence Levine calls the “sacralization of culture.” Both of these contributors emphasize how much is to be learned about the history of “popular science” from historians of other aspects of “popular” culture. As Daum notes, our preoccupation with the privileged epistemology of science might have left us with too “exclusive” a focus.
“POPULAR SCIENCE” IN THE LONGUE DURÉE
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Of course, one of the key ways in which the project of historicizing “popular science” impinges on the practice of historians is in focusing attention on the changes in such notions and their use over time. In particular, as several of the contributors point out, important temporal changes have taken place in the politics of knowledge that have been associated with “popular science.” The long‐standing dominance of the “diffusionist” model of science popularization, which protects scientific expertise by asserting that nonspecialists apprehend scientific knowledge through a process of dilution and distortion, has perhaps tended to obscure the changing and multiform character of “popular science” in this regard. Yet the extent to which discourses and practices of “popular science” have been intended to exclude individuals from knowledge making has always been contested. In Britain, as in several other countries, one of the driving forces behind the development of a discourse of “popular science” was the commercial imperative of publishers, editors, and authors who wished to maximize the market for their products. For such individuals, the exclusionary usage associated with the “diffusionist” notion would clearly have been counterproductive. Similarly, as Anne Secord has argued, “popular botany” in early nineteenth‐century Britain was considered by many expert naturalists to be “the means by which private individuals could best be encouraged to extend their aesthetic appreciation and love of plants to an active and participatory pursuit of science.” Rather than being exclusionary, Secord shows, the notion of “popularization” involved individuals in botanical practice, while at the same time organizing and constraining their participation.7 In a preprofessional context, as Pandora's essay emphasizes for the antebellum United States, a discourse of “popular science” could readily serve to organize a scientific division of labor.
In Britain and the United States, it is clear that the development of more exclusionary uses of the lexicon of “popular science” was related to some extent to the professionalization of science in the later nineteenth century. For instance, while Susan Sheets‐Pyenson discovered a “low science” ideology in the popular science magazines of early nineteenth‐century Britain, she found this transformed by the 1860s; as Ruth Barton puts it, the new popular science magazines “sought not participation from amateurs, but support for professionals.” Bensaude‐Vincent has suggested that it was in the years after World War I, with the emergence of the new physics and related epistemological changes, that an unbridgeable gap began to be posited between scientists and the public. This was given expression, she claims, in the shift from an inclusive vocabulary of “popular science,” first to “science popularization” and then to “science communication.”8 As we have seen, however, Bensaude‐Vincent considers even this to be a temporary development, which is beginning to be displaced by the recent development of an alternative conceptualization. Moreover, as Daum observes, the rich history of the vicissitudes of “popular science” in the twentieth century has barely begun to be told.
Of course, the observation that the discourses and practices of “popular science” have a short history not only helps us to appreciate their historicity but also raises questions about the alternative configurations of knowledge they replaced or supplemented. It would, for instance, have made no sense to speak of “popular science” in Britain before 1800, and several eighteenth‐century historians have consequently paid considerable attention over recent decades to related but distinct discourses and practices of “public” and “polite” science.9 Moreover, the transitions between such different configurations of knowledge are clearly of fundamental historical interest. Is it, then, still appropriate to construct a longue durée history that encompasses these related phenomena within a single conceptual framework? Several of the contributors here address this question directly. For Daum, the multiform “popular science” of the modern era should be examined as one expression of a longue durée history of “public knowledge.” According to Bensaude‐Vincent, “popular science” has been one moment in a longue durée history of “science and common knowledge,” since, she argues, the distinction between “epistemê and doxa” was a “foundational gesture” of Western science. Finally, while O'Connor endorses Secord's longue durée framework of “knowledge in transit,” he nevertheless seeks to rescue “popular science” as an “umbrella‐category” that can properly be applied by historians to a wide range of phenomena over the longue durée.
While each of these approaches has much to recommend it, my own preferred approach continues to be that outlined by Secord. This places “popular science” and its cognates within the widest possible comparative frame, dismantling artificial distinctions between this historically specific set of discourses and practices and others, such as lab talk, note taking, monographic publication, pedagogy, correspondence, travels, translation, and, indeed, the “public science” of eighteenth‐century Britain. Moreover, as we have seen, its fundamental thrust is to break down the distinction between the making and the communication of knowledge that has so bedeviled the historiography of popular science. In Secord's historiography, the fact that “popular science” has been used by actors and historians alike to refer variously to science for the people, the science of the people, and science by the people ceases to be a problem. All of these are considered legitimate objects of historical inquiry, contributing to a common project of understanding how knowledge comes to be constituted and reconstituted within culture. It is this that makes the history of “popular science” a central aspect of the history of modern science, without which, as Pandora argues in regard to the United States, our understanding is impoverished.
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Whither, then, the history of “popular science”? The contributors to this Focus section are agreed that, just like “public science,” the discourses and practices of “popular science” and its cognates are historical phenomena worthy of serious attention. In this restricted sense, it is time, as Christopher Hamlin puts it, “to rehabilitate popularization, the category that dares not speak its name.”10 It is highly instructive, these essays suggest, to consider how such formulations arose in the modern era and how they have since changed. Moreover, it is especially productive to examine how differently they have been formulated in different places and languages and how these multiple histories have been interconnected. Much is also to be gained, the contributors argue, from an interdisciplinary focus on how “popular science” has been intertwined historically with the histories of other formulations of “popular” or “public” culture. Taken all in all, this amounts to a large‐scale research program, which promises to bring together in a productive manner research on a variety of fronts, addressing various problematics and using a range of methodologies.
At the same time, the contributors' historicization of “popular science” makes fully visible the extent to which an essentialist definition of the term fails to meet the needs of the historian. As O'Connor ably argues, this does not necessarily sound the death knell of “popular science” as a historian's pragmatic shorthand. Even in this highly restricted form, however, O'Connor suggests that historians should subject the term to constant scrutiny, in order to avoid importing unwanted assumptions into their historiography. More radical would be Secord's and my suggested abandonment of “popular science” as a “neutral descriptive term.” As we have seen, this need not leave us bereft of longue durée perspectives, and Secord's own “knowledge in transit” approach is here supplemented by Daum and Bensaude‐Vincent's emphasis on the longue durée history of “public knowledge” and of “science and its ‘others.’” Moreover, while the contributors here disagree about the best strategy to achieve the end, they are agreed that the essentialist use of the term “popular science” to distinguish the communicating of knowledge from its making has no place in the historian's analytical armory. The discourses and practices commonly designated by such terms as “popular science” in the modern era are, these essays suggest, fundamental aspects of the history of science, not merely adjunct topics to be studied by specialists within a separate subfield.
This Focus section was organized by Jonathan Topham. I am grateful to Bernard Lightman for making the section possible and for his constant encouragement, support, and expert guidance. I would also like to thank Lightman, Ralph O'Connor, and Roberta Topham for their helpful comments on an earlier draft of this introduction and the contributors for engaging in a most thoughtful and enlightening dialogue on this topic.
1 Roger Cooter and Stephen Pumfrey, “Separate Spheres and Public Places: Reflections on the History of Science Popularization and Science in Popular Culture,” History of Science, 1994, 32:237–267, on p. 253.
2 James A. Secord, “Knowledge in Transit,” Isis, 2004, 95:654–672, on pp. 661, 670. See also Jonathan R. Topham, “Beyond the ‘Common Context’: The Production and Reading of the Bridgewater Treatises,” ibid., 1998, 89:233–262; Topham, “Scientific Publishing and the Reading of Science in Nineteenth‐Century Britain: A Historiographical Survey and Guide to Sources,” Studies in the History and Philosophy of Science, 2000, 31A:559–612; and Topham, “Rethinking the History of Science Popularization/Popular Science,” in Popularizing Science and Technology in the European Periphery, 1800–2000, ed. Faidra Papanelopoulou, Agustí Nieto‐Galan, and Enrique Perdiguero (Aldershot: Ashgate, forthcoming).
3 James A. Secord, Victorian Sensation: The Extraordinary Publication, Reception, and Secret Authorship of Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation (Chicago: Univ. Chicago Press, 2000), pp. 2, 4, 514.
4 Lorraine Daston, “Objectivity and the Escape from Perspective,” Social Studies of Science, 1992, 22:597–618; Daston, “Scientific Objectivity with and without Words,” in Little Tools of Knowledge: Historical Essays on Academic and Bureaucratic Practices, ed. Peter Becker and William Clark (Ann Arbor: Univ. Michigan Press, 2001), pp. 259–284; and Simon Schaffer, “Genius in Romantic Natural Philosophy,” in Romanticism and the Sciences, ed. Andrew Cunningham and Nicholas Jardine (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1990), pp. 82–98.
5 Bernadette Bensaude‐Vincent and Anne Rasmussen, “Introduction,” in La science populaire dans la presse et l'édition XIXe et XXe siècles, ed. Bensaude‐Vincent and Rasmussen (Paris: CNRS, 1997), pp. 13–30, on p. 14; and Andreas W. Daum, Wissenschaftspopularisierung im 19. Jahrhundert: Bürgerliche Kultur, naturwissenschaftliche Bildung und die deutsche Öffentlichkeit, 1849–1914 (1998; Munich: Oldenbourg, 2002), pp. 33–42. See also Daum's contribution to this Focus section.
6 Agustí Nieto‐Galan and Faidra Papanelopoulou, “Science, Technology, and the Public in the European Periphery: A Report of the Fifth STEP Meeting (1–3 June 2006, Mahon [Minorca]),” Journal of Science Communication, 2006, 5(4):1–5, on pp. 1, 3; and Eugenia Roldán Vera, The British Book Trade and Spanish American Independence: Education and Knowledge Transmission in Transcontinental Perspective (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), p. 3. It was an invitation from the STEP group to deliver a keynote address at their 2006 meeting that led me to explore further the historicizing of “popular science” and to propose this Focus section to the editor of Isis; see Topham, “Rethinking the History of Science Popularization/Popular Science” (cit n. 2), which gives a more detailed version of some of the arguments made here. Publications of the STEP group concerning popularization include Papanelopoulou et al., eds., Popularizing Science and Technology in the European Periphery (cit. n. 2); and Josep Simon and Néstor Herran, eds., Beyond Borders: Fresh Perspectives in History of Science (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars, 2008), esp. Pt. 3.
7 Stephen Hilgartner, “The Dominant View of Popularization: Conceptual Problems, Political Uses,” Soc. Stud. Sci., 1990, 20:519–539; Jonathan R. Topham, “The Mirror of Literature, Amusement and Instruction, and Cheap Miscellanies in Early Nineteenth‐Century Britain,” in Geoffrey Cantor et al., Reading the Magazine of Nature: Science in the Nineteenth‐Century Periodical (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2004), pp. 37–66; Topham, “Publishing ‘Popular Science’ in Early Nineteenth‐Century Britain,” in Science in the Marketplace: Nineteenth‐Century Sites and Experiences, ed. Aileen Fyfe and Bernard Lightman (Chicago: Univ. Chicago Press, 2007), pp. 135–168; and Anne Secord, “Botany on a Plate: Pleasure and the Power of Pictures in Promoting Early Nineteenth‐Century Scientific Knowledge,” Isis, 2002, 93:28–57, on p. 28.
8 Susan Sheets‐Pyenson, “Popular Science Periodicals in Paris and London: The Emergence of a Low Scientific Culture, 1820–1875,” Annals of Science, 1985, 42:549–572; Ruth Barton, “Just before Nature: The Purposes of Science and the Purposes of Popularization in Some English Popular Science Journals of the 1860s,” ibid., 1998, 55:1–33, on p. 3; and Bernadette Bensaude‐Vincent, “A Genealogy of the Increasing Gap between Science and the Public,” Public Understanding of Science, 2001, 10:99–113, on p. 106.
9 See, e.g., Larry Stewart, The Rise of Public Science: Rhetoric, Technology, and Natural Philosophy in Newtonian Britain, 1660–1750 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1992); Jan Golinski, Science as Public Culture: Chemistry and Enlightenment in Britain, 1760–1820 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1992); and Alice N. Walters, “Conversation Pieces: Science and Politeness in Eighteenth‐Century England,” Hist. Sci., 1997, 35:121–154.
10 Christopher Hamlin, “Games Editors Played or Knowledge Readers Made?” Isis, 2005, 96:633–642, on p. 642.