The ArgumentMany of the epistemological issues that occupied natural philosophers of the seventeenth century were expressed visually in title-page engravings. One of those issues concerned the relative status to be accorded to evidence of the senses, as compared to knowledge gained by faith or reason. In title-page illustrations, the various arguments were often waged by a series of light metaphors: the Light of Reason, the Light of Nature, and the Lights of Sense, Scripture, and Grace. When such illustrations are examined (...) with the authors' theological views in mind, it becomes apparent that in the first half of the seventeenth century, Catholic authors favored the Light of Reason as a source of truth, while Protestant authors favored the Light of Nature. Since by the end of the century it was widely accepted by scientists of all religious persuasions that certain knowledge must be grounded in sense evidence and the direct study of nature, one might argue that in this instance Protestantism was responsible for nurturing an important development of the Scientific Revolution. However, the skewed nature of the sample and the large number of counterexamples available mitigate against taking this offshoot of the Merton thesis too seriously. (shrink)

During the late-nineteenth and twentieth centuries interpretations of the British Industrial Revolution became embedded within debates over competing systems of political economy, primarily liberal democracy (free trade) versus socialism (state regulation). At the heart of this contest was also the question of epistemology. A picture emerged of the Industrial Revolution that reflected such contrasting perspectives; for those with a Western liberal bent Britain industrialized first due to a weak state, an emphasis upon individual liberty, the right institutions and culture of (...) creativity born of free minds and free markets. At the heart of this was the emergence of science; objectivity and Western democracy became a key cornerstone of this perspective. This view was first especially spearheaded by the Austrian economists Ludwig von Mises (1881–1973) and, slightly later, Friedrich A. Hayek (1899–1992). The debate subsequently became particularly fierce during the Cold War, and since the fall of the Berlin Wall the role of the state and protectionism within Britain’s industrial history has greatly diminished. Indeed today’s dominant historiography continues to erase Britain’s actual industrial experience and, instead, reflect entrenched liberal and neoliberal prescriptions. A major axiom of this ideological viewpoint is the centrality of science and its history. (shrink)

During eighteenth century England the Excise Department was at the vanguard of negotiating the criteria and parameters of what I call "practical objectivity", namely, putting objectivity into administrative practice. This frequently required both the space of production and the actual product to be reconfigured to meet the criteria of the excise's form of measurement. As this essay shows this was a contested, mutable and ambiguous process. Within this context ultimate agreement over objectivity was administratively rather than philosophically driven.

Ashworth argues that wilderness preservation is a form of separation from the land and, as such, is as harmful to nature as logging or mining. Treating nature as something "other" - whether to preserve it or destroy it - creates a false dichotomy, from which all modern environmental battles arise: use versus preservation, civilization versus wilderness.

Oxford University Press proudly announces: “Now, for the first time, Oxford offers the general public a series of readable accessible biographies of great scientists.” Included among the chosen great men is Charles Babbage, described on the back cover of this book as “a dazzling genius with vision extending far beyond the limitations of the Victorian age.” Well, I'm not quite sure what this means, and unfortunately our understanding of Babbage and his historical context is not greatly illuminated by this short (...) book.Bruce Collier and James MacLachlan have produced an uncritical biography of Babbage that glorifies him as “the Grandfather of the modern computer” rather than shedding new light on his work within the context of nineteenth‐century England. Partly, no doubt, this is due to the remit of this Oxford series and its targeted audience. It is good that history of science and technology is being taken to a wider audience, but unfortunately very little is made of the work many historians have already done. The book, however, does do a useful and lucid job of describing the aims and workings of both the Difference and Analytical Engines, and it has helpful sidebars describing some of the technical aspects necessary to understanding Babbage's objectives and resources.Overall, however, historians may find the eulogizing and whiggish approach of this book a little irritating. The authors are prone to a number of ungrounded remarks, such as the allegation that the government was misguided to pay nearly £300,000 for Marc Brunel to build a tunnel under the Thames, in comparison to the “stingy” amount given to Babbage to build his Difference Engine . To make judgments about past events from the concerns of the present is not particularly fruitful. It was not at all clear to contemporaries that Babbage's engine was worth investing in or, indeed, was possible within the technological parameters then available. As such, perhaps a more interesting question would be: How did Babbage manage to get as much public money as he did in the first place? The authors would have been far more helpful had they actually related industrial Britain to the work of Babbage.Throughout this book readers will be constantly reminded of Babbage's prophetic genius. For example, on page 63 we learn that he devised a scheme to replace the transport of mail by road with a system of elevated wires carrying letters in a metal container between London and Bristol. This inspires the authors to remark: “Babbage would certainly have been overjoyed by e‐mail, by which electronic symbols are transported all over the world in the blink of an eye.” Could it be that Babbage was also the great grandfather of electronic mail? On page 65 we learn that he was also the originator of the idea of having “black boxes” used to record information in case of train or aircraft crashes, while a few pages later the authors reflect: “imagine how much Ada [Lovelace] and Charles would have loved word processing, spreadsheets, and databases!” Some people will no doubt delight in such speculations, and who am I to sour the story? As such this is a useful introduction to twentieth‐century Babbage. (shrink)