Robert Bud

Antibiotic development and usage, and antibiotic resistance in particular, are today considered global concerns, simultaneously mandating local and global perspectives and actions. Yet such global considerations have not always been part of antibiotic policy formation, and those who attempt to formulate a globally coordinated response to antibiotic resistance will need to confront a history of heterogeneous, often uncoordinated, and at times conflicting reform efforts, whose legacies remain apparent today. Historical analysis permits us to highlight such entrenched trends and processes, helping to frame contemporary efforts to improve access, conservation and innovation.

Until late in the nineteenth century, madder was the most popular natural red dye. Holland was the largest and best-known supplier. As early as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the province of Zeeland and adjoining parts of the provinces of South Holland and Brabant developed into important producers. In the course of the seventeenth century these areas even succeeded in acquiring a monopoly position. Early in the nineteenth century, however, this position came under attack because France had gone over to industrial production methods from around 1800, whereas Holland continued to produce with craft technologies. After 1820, as a result, a period of stagnation and decay set in. The fate of the Dutch madder industry would have been completely sealed if the production capacity of the French factories had been sufficiently large to satisfy the great increase in demand. Consequently, in Holland, after 1845, a process of revival based upon the French manufacturing methods began slowly and hesitatingly. This process started too late and was not persevered with sufficiently to regain lost markets. The Dutch producers remained strongly attached to their own out-dated, craft methods of production

This is another paper about science and her powerful companion , to use A. W. Hofmann's colourful phrase. Whereas most papers on the interaction of science and technology deal with the transfer of knowledge from academic science to industrial technology, this paper is about the contribution of an industrial researcher to academic chemistry. The boost Reppe's research gave to the study of aromaticity parallels the impact of the early synthetic dye chemistry on structural organic chemistry. This case study suggests that we cannot draw a clear distinction between ‘pure’ and ‘applied’ chemistry, in the laboratory at least

The focus of this paper is the emergence of the research laboratory as an organizational entity within the company structure of industrial firms. The thesis defended is that, after some groundwork by British and French firms, the managements of several of the larger German dye companies set up their own research organizations between the years 1877 and 1883. The analysis of the emergence of the industrial research laboratory in the dyestuffs industry presented here makes clear that both the older study on the subject by John J. Beer and a later paper by Georg Mseyer-Thurow contain some serious defects. Beer, like so many other authors of the 1950s who studied the ‘marriage’ between science and industry during the ‘Second Industrial Revolution’, incorrectly correlates the engagement of university-educated chemists with the rise of industrial research. The appointment of academic chemists by BASF and Hoechst at the end of the 1860s, for instance, was described as ‘the…acquisition of a research staff’. This reveals a misunderstanding of the roles of chemists within the nineteenth-century chemical industry. University-trained personnel were, in fact, working in industry as early as the start of the nineteenth century. However, they were employed as managers, works chemists and analysts, and only exceptionally in research.

The term “applied science,” as it came to be popularly used in the 1870s, was a hybrid of three earlier concepts. The phrase “applied science” itself had been coined by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1817, translating the German Kantian term “angewandte Wissenschaft.” It was popularized through the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, which was structured on principles inherited from Coleridge and edited by men with sympathetic views. Their concept of empirical as opposed to a priori science was hybridized with an earlier English concept of “practical science” and with “science applied to the arts,” adopted from the French. Charles Dupin had favored the latter concept and promoted it in the reconstruction of the Conservatoire Nationale des Arts et Métiers. The process of hybridization took place from the 1850s, in the wake of the Great Exhibition, as a new technocratic government favored scientific education. “Applied science” subsequently was used as the epistemic basis for technical education and the formation of new colleges in the 1870s

This paper argues that the heritage represented by a museum should be seen not just in its individual objects but also in the relationships between them. The Conservatoire Nationale des Arts et Métiers and the Science Museum in London, the earliest great European science museums, were deeply concerned with the relationship between science and practice. The foundation speeches of the Deutsches Museum emphasised the concern with both past and future. Such ancestry provided hard-to-escape templates within which collections were built up over the subsequent century and more. Thus the Science Museum’s biotechnology collection developed at the very end of the twentieth century and albeit based on detailed historical research reflects the same concerns with science–technology relations as could be seen in the 1876 Loan Exhibition which started off the Science Museum. The physical presence of such carefully-structured accumulations of objects could embody and reinforce the reality of such categories as pure and applied science

Such categories as applied science and pure science can be thought of as “ideological.” They have been contested in the public sphere, exposing long-term intellectual commitments, assumptions, balances of power, and material interests. This group of essays explores the contest over applied science in Britain and the United States during the nineteenth century. The essays look at the concept in the context of a variety of neighbors, including pure science, technology, and art. They are closely related and connected to contemporary historiographic debate. Jennifer Alexander links the issues raised to a recent paper by Paul Forman. Paul Lucier and Graeme Gooday deal with the debates in the last quarter of the century in the United States and Britain, respectively. Robert Bud deals with the earlier part of the nineteenth century, with an eye specifically on the variety of concepts hybridized under the heading of “applied science.” Eric Schatzberg looks at the erosion of the earlier concept of art. As a whole, the essays illuminate both long-term changes and nuanced debate and are themselves intended to provoke further reflection on science in the public sphere

Generally, the mass media in Britain, as elsewhere, treat the history of science as arcane knowledge. A few iconic tales do none the less come to permeate public consciousness. How do these come to be selected from the myriad of possible narratives?One of the most enduring and well known of stories is the discovery of penicillin, which stretched from Alexander Fleming's observation in 1928 to the award of the Nobel prize to Fleming, Howard Florey and Ernst Chain in 1945 and the subsequent dominance of American companies in its manufacture. During the 1980s, when it appeared scandalous that monoclonal antibodies discovered in Cambridge, England, had not been patented by the British government, the parallel was often made with penicillin. An alternative use was made of the story when, in July 1995, a columnist in London's Evening Standard criticized massive expenditure on medical research and claimed that most drugs were discovered by accident. He sustained his thesis by merely putting in pointed parentheses the one word, ‘penicillin’. The same year, partisans found space in the correspondence columns of the New Scientist to return enthusiastically to the debate over the proper disposition of credit between Fleming and Florey. The BBC's Money Programme broadcast a piece on how best to support inventors today in October 1996; it included film of the Science Museum's coverage of Fleming.The story of penicillin seems therefore bound, time and time again, to great issues in British culture: pride over technological prowess, resentment over the loss of opportunity, jealousy of American success, the National Health Service and the emergence of the modern pharmaceutical industry. The appeal of the story and meaning of its associations are matched by reverence for its material relics. In high profile auctions, the sale of samples prepared by Fleming raises thousands of pounds and is previewed in the newspages and on the radio. The original plate on which Fleming observed penicillin with its sterile ring surrounding the healing penicillin is one of the most familiar of historic relics

This paper argues that the 1953 double-helix solution to the problem of DNA structure was understood, at the time, as a blow within a fiercely fought dispute over the material nature of life. The paper examines the debates, between those for whom life was a purely material phenomenon and religious people for whom it had a spiritual significance, that were waged from the aftermath of the First World War to the 1960s. It looks at the developing arguments of early promoters of molecular biology, including J.D. Bernal, his pupil Max Perutz and his pupil Francis Crick, on the one side, and of the so-called ‘Inkling’ cluster of writers including C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, on the other. This debate was conducted through polemical works, journalism, and science fiction and through the Festival of Britain and can be followed through the commentary of Jacob Bronowski. The paper concludes with the model of the double helix now at the Science Museum, which can be considered an archaeological relic of a battle in a war which is still being fought

Louis Pasteur plays a role in the creation myth of biotechnology which resembles the heroic position of his great antagonist Liebig in the story of agricultural chemistry. His intellectual development, expressed in a great book, supposedly underlay a revolution in practice. Similarly, biotechnology is conventionally traced back to Pasteur, through whose influence, it has been assumed, ancient crafts were transformed into an applicable science of microbiology. The emphasis on Pasteur's work in the history of biotechnology has served to bolster the image of progress in the technology following from periodic scientific breakthroughs. Elsewhere I have argued that biotechnology can be better seen as a boundary object, to use Star and Griesemer's terminology, between biology and engineering. As such it has been significant throughout this century, and the word has been used since 1917.

Louis Pasteur plays a role in the creation myth of biotechnology which resembles the heroic position of his great antagonist Liebig in the story of agricultural chemistry. His intellectual development, expressed in a great book, supposedly underlay a revolution in practice. Similarly, biotechnology is conventionally traced back to Pasteur, through whose influence, it has been assumed, ancient crafts were transformed into an applicable science of microbiology. The emphasis on Pasteur's work in the history of biotechnology has served to bolster the image of progress in the technology following from periodic scientific breakthroughs. Elsewhere I have argued that biotechnology can be better seen as a boundary object, to use Star and Griesemer's terminology, between biology and engineering. As such it has been significant throughout this century, and the word has been used since 1917.

Whereas the academic discipline of the history of science has made enormous strides in half a century, ironically, recognition from without has often been disappointing. Private success has not been matched by public status. The work of the Science Museum in London as one of the few widely accessible windows into the discipline is therefore worth remarking upon here, and more detailed investigations are even now under way. The foundation of the British Society for the History of Science at the Museum, in 1947, symbolized a role that the Museum had already played for decades and plays to this day: the pre-eminent public space of the history of science. This distinctive role has of course been shared by other object-based museums attracting large numbers of visitors in places such as Manchester, Greenwich and Edinburgh as well as in Munich and Washington