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Natural History Investigations in South Carolina: from Colonial Times to the Present
and Princeton. Livingstone shows that the responses cannot be simply related to theological position but include the local concerns and controversies. In Belfast, where John Tyndall’s address to the British Association in 1874 created a backlash in religious communities, evolutionary theory was attacked on narrow biblical grounds. In Edinburgh, sides were taken according to positions on issues of theological reinterpretation. In Princeton eminent conservative theologians supported Darwinism. B.B. Warfield, a leading defender of Calvinist orthodoxy, was open to natural selection because, Livingstone suggests, he had himself been involved in livestock breeding before entering theological school. The themes of race and gender are largely confined to two chapters. Eric Anderson demonstrates that American blacks showed little concern with Darwinian theory, despite its clear racism. Darwin at least gave all human groups the same ancestor, no matter how distant. The theory of polygenesis, asserting different origins for different racial groups, was much more threatening, and scientifically trained American blacks focussed their energies on attacking polygenesis. John Stenhouse includes race in his chapter on New Zealand, showing how, in the decade of wars over land, many settlers appealed to notions of an inferior and dying race to justify violence against the Maori. In the 1890s Maori scholars began to question these apparently scientific theories. A few women engaged in extended critiques of evolutionary theory. Sally Kohlstedt describes how these women questioned the competitive ethic, arguing that natural selection promoted cooperative as well as competitive individuals, even claiming that cooperation was characteristic of a higher stage of development. Some emphasised sexual difference and complementarity; a minority dared to argue that the evolutionary theorists had exaggerated the inequality and difference between men and women. It is tempting to ask for finer discriminations and further groups in the analyses: were there any secular racists in the American South and what did they think of Darwin; is there any relationship between views on Darwin and views on race among the theologians of the American South; did the colonies of New South Wales and Victoria, or Otago and Canterbury, differ in their responses? But in small communities,
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when relatively few individuals offered sustained comment, further subdivision is problematic. Also, purely local studies are not valid. There was interaction among local communities and between the imperial centres of evolutionary debate and these colonial outposts. American Catholics read St George Mivart, the English Catholic reinterpreter of Darwin. The Australian critics of Darwin frequently built on the criticisms of their English patrons and teachers and debate was stimulated by visiting American and British publicists. Indirectly, Disseminating Darwinism undermines its own Darwin-centred title. Some groups, for example, American blacks, were not particularly interested in Darwin. For American Jews and Catholics, positions taken in relation to evolutionary theory had more to do with issues of identity and assimilation within migrant communities than with the origins of species, even the human species. For them, Darwin was an aspect of modern, secular culture. References to Herbert Spencer and John Tyndall throughout the volume remind us that ‘Darwin’ also stands for others. With its focus on Darwin, the book as a whole is for members of the Darwin industry. Individual chapters will have a wider appeal to those interested in the particular groups or regions discussed. References 1 Ellegard, A. (1958) Darwin and the General Reader: The Reception of Darwin’s Theory of Evolution in the British Periodical Press, 1859–1872, University of Chicago Press (reprinted 1990) 2 Brooke, J.H. (1991) Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives, Cambridge University Press
Ruth Barton
Natural History Investigations in South Carolina: from Colonial Times to the Present by Albert E. Sanders and William D. Anderson, Jr University of South Carolina Press, 1999. $35.95 hardback (xxxix 333 pages) ISBN 1 57003 278 5 Why South Carolina? It is only one of the fifty United States, and though nature heeds boundaries of its own making, other states have as diverse a landscape as South Carolina. And yet, in the course of
three years, three historical studies of natural history have been published about South Carolina: South Carolina naturalists: an anthology, 1700-1860, edited by David Taylor, Science, Race and Religion in the American South: John Bachman and the Charleston Circle of Naturalists, 1815–1895, by Lester D. Stephens, and Natural History Investigations in South Carolina: from Colonial Times to the Present by Albert E. Sanders and William D. Anderson, Jr. The latter of these three is the most ambitious. The authors’ intent is to document all investigations of natural history within the boundaries of South Carolina, from the descriptions of Jacques LeMoyne in the late 16th century, to L. Barry Albright’s fossil identifications in the late 20th century, and to place these investigations within a broader historical context of the rise, fall and rebirth of the south. For the most part, they have succeeded, and in the course of their narrative they have conveyed the frustration and dismay any researcher experiences when faced with holes in the historical record, whether caused by the destruction visited upon collections, archives and libraries by war or by neglect. In the case of the data and collections gathered in the south, and in particular in South Carolina, the American Civil War effectively halted the advance of natural history collecting, only recovering momentum in the mid-20th century. In their historical account of natural history investigations, Standers and Anderson discovered too well how many collections were lost during this time. The greatest devastation occurred when General Sherman’s army burned and occupied Columbia, where John Bachman, friend and collaborator of John James Audubon, John McCrady, noted for his research in marine animals in Charleston Harbor, and many others had sent their collections from Charleston for safekeeping. The authors describe the slow advance of investigations after the Civil War, and the interruption of two world wars and a major depression, which curtailed the advances already made. Post-secondary educational institutions were hardest hit during the decades following the Civil War. The Confederate military suffered almost half a million deaths, and with these deaths almost an entire generation of college-age southern men. Those that survived the war had more immediate concerns closer to
home, where homes had been destroyed, land confiscated and economies disrupted. Few students could afford to attend college, and there were months when faculty worked without pay. Even with tuition cut in half, in 1866 the College of Charleston enrolled a mere eleven students. The story of this state’s struggle to advance is mirrored in the struggle of naturalists to overcome years of neglect and lack of funding for science and collections. What is remarkable is the primary role played by the Charleston Museum, not only in leading and supporting investigations in the field, but in training and growing investigators, in storing, gathering and organizing collections, and in disseminating this work through its publications. Founded with an appeal by the Charles Town Library Society in 1772, it is one of the earliest museums established in America. This study is as much a history of the Museum as it is a recounting of investigations and those involved. The narrative bogs down when the authors credit every investigator in every field of study, particularly in the latter part of the 20th century. It is difficult to see how this could be avoided, with so ambitious an objective. Still, Natural History Investigations in South Carolina is well researched and succeeds in setting the groundwork for future investigations by documenting the work that has gone before. Sanders, curator of natural sciences at the Charleston Museum, and Anderson, until his retirement a professor of biology at the College of Charleston, have an intimate knowledge of the natural history of their state, which has served them well in this work. The addition of two excellent appendices, the ‘Chronology of Natural History Investigators in South Carolina’ and ‘Archaeological and Natural History Collections in South Carolina’ make this work a useful tool as well for locating collections. Why South Carolina? Where else in the United States (except perhaps California) does one have the opportunity of observing so many species in as many habitats within the confines of one state. Add to this the social and historical context of the south, and the choice of South Carolina makes sense. Sanders and Anderson have set a benchmark for documenting natural history investigations. More such works are needed. Melinda K. Hayes
Predictions: 30 Great Minds on the Future edited by Sian Griffiths Oxford University Press, 1999. $16.95 hardback (xxi 328 pages) ISBN 0-19-286210-3
The trouble with newspaper articles is that they are as rooted in the present as a rainbow. ‘Tomorrow’s news is dead’, they say. This obvious nonsense – an article, well written, transcends such crude temporal considerations. A fine feature from a decade ago reads as well, and as informatively, as it did the day it was printed.
The authors are an eclectic bunch, and some are avowed opponents This book began in a newspaper, as a series of profiles for the Times Higher Educational Supplement. In preparing the profiles for publication in a single, small volume, the original contributors were asked to add a section on their views and be more positive about their predictions. The authors are an eclectic bunch, and some are avowed opponents. Two of the contributors, both colleagues of mine, are unusually set in juxtaposition. Richard Dawkins once said he would never share a platform with Lynn Margulis, though they do share a platform in this book. Each profile runs for several pages, and is typeset on white paper. The personal comments from each of the celebrities then appears, printed on a pale grey background so that there shall be no mistaking who
wrote what. This is an excellent convention, making the book easy on the eye, as well as convenient for the brain. It’s a user-friendly volume. Some of the predictions are nothing of the sort, but are descriptions of a clear destination that we are already fast approaching. French Anderson, who has been a letterbomb target because of his work on human gene therapy, predicts that: ‘by the year 2030, gene-based therapy will have revolutionised medicine’. He would say that, wouldn’t he? This is his field of work, and in any event the road ahead is clear. This is like Howard Florey offering the view that antibiotics would help medicine along after the war. The point is that Florey (and the rest of society) knew that in the forties; had Fleming said so in 1928, now, that would have been a prediction of some perspicacity. In another section, James Watson predicts our modifying the germ line, a prospect that embodies more than enough ethical uncertainty to count as a challenging prediction. Noam Chomsky is more sanguine. He’s full of thoughts for the future, but in this short essay, he emphasises how fallible are predictions. They may, he concludes, be wide of the mark. The essential point (and it is not one found much in evidence in these essays) is that most predictions are momentum-driven extrapolations from current experience. Arthur C. Clarke actually confesses that, rather than being a ‘prophet’, he prefers to be thought of as an ‘extrapolator’, which is one of the most useful distinctions drawn in the entire book. In some ways, it is easier, and more profitable, to examine what we do not know, rather than what we do. Stephen Jay Gould outlines essentially why prophesy is impossible. He says ‘I am not sanguine about possibilities for predicting the future’, but he says it eloquently and that’s what counts. Paul Davies lists areas of uncertainty, by reminding us how little we know about the origins of the universe, of life, and of human consciousness. His essay expresses the hope that we’ll reach these levels of understanding within the present century, perhaps an inauspicious and self-evident ambition for such a high-flown book. J.K. Galbraith doesn’t exactly make predictions, either, but sets out his hopes for research and development – an attack on poverty and impoverishment – while Amartya Sen similarly contents himself by setting out a wish-list for tomorrow. Endeavour Vol. 24(4) 2000
185
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Endeavour Vol. 24(4) 2000
when relatively few individuals offered sustained comment, further subdivision is problematic. Also, purely local studies are not valid. There was interaction among local communities and between the imperial centres of evolutionary debate and these colonial outposts. American Catholics read St George Mivart, the English Catholic reinterpreter of Darwin. The Australian critics of Darwin frequently built on the criticisms of their English patrons and teachers and debate was stimulated by visiting American and British publicists. Indirectly, Disseminating Darwinism undermines its own Darwin-centred title. Some groups, for example, American blacks, were not particularly interested in Darwin. For American Jews and Catholics, positions taken in relation to evolutionary theory had more to do with issues of identity and assimilation within migrant communities than with the origins of species, even the human species. For them, Darwin was an aspect of modern, secular culture. References to Herbert Spencer and John Tyndall throughout the volume remind us that ‘Darwin’ also stands for others. With its focus on Darwin, the book as a whole is for members of the Darwin industry. Individual chapters will have a wider appeal to those interested in the particular groups or regions discussed. References 1 Ellegard, A. (1958) Darwin and the General Reader: The Reception of Darwin’s Theory of Evolution in the British Periodical Press, 1859–1872, University of Chicago Press (reprinted 1990) 2 Brooke, J.H. (1991) Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspectives, Cambridge University Press
Ruth Barton
Natural History Investigations in South Carolina: from Colonial Times to the Present by Albert E. Sanders and William D. Anderson, Jr University of South Carolina Press, 1999. $35.95 hardback (xxxix 333 pages) ISBN 1 57003 278 5 Why South Carolina? It is only one of the fifty United States, and though nature heeds boundaries of its own making, other states have as diverse a landscape as South Carolina. And yet, in the course of
three years, three historical studies of natural history have been published about South Carolina: South Carolina naturalists: an anthology, 1700-1860, edited by David Taylor, Science, Race and Religion in the American South: John Bachman and the Charleston Circle of Naturalists, 1815–1895, by Lester D. Stephens, and Natural History Investigations in South Carolina: from Colonial Times to the Present by Albert E. Sanders and William D. Anderson, Jr. The latter of these three is the most ambitious. The authors’ intent is to document all investigations of natural history within the boundaries of South Carolina, from the descriptions of Jacques LeMoyne in the late 16th century, to L. Barry Albright’s fossil identifications in the late 20th century, and to place these investigations within a broader historical context of the rise, fall and rebirth of the south. For the most part, they have succeeded, and in the course of their narrative they have conveyed the frustration and dismay any researcher experiences when faced with holes in the historical record, whether caused by the destruction visited upon collections, archives and libraries by war or by neglect. In the case of the data and collections gathered in the south, and in particular in South Carolina, the American Civil War effectively halted the advance of natural history collecting, only recovering momentum in the mid-20th century. In their historical account of natural history investigations, Standers and Anderson discovered too well how many collections were lost during this time. The greatest devastation occurred when General Sherman’s army burned and occupied Columbia, where John Bachman, friend and collaborator of John James Audubon, John McCrady, noted for his research in marine animals in Charleston Harbor, and many others had sent their collections from Charleston for safekeeping. The authors describe the slow advance of investigations after the Civil War, and the interruption of two world wars and a major depression, which curtailed the advances already made. Post-secondary educational institutions were hardest hit during the decades following the Civil War. The Confederate military suffered almost half a million deaths, and with these deaths almost an entire generation of college-age southern men. Those that survived the war had more immediate concerns closer to
home, where homes had been destroyed, land confiscated and economies disrupted. Few students could afford to attend college, and there were months when faculty worked without pay. Even with tuition cut in half, in 1866 the College of Charleston enrolled a mere eleven students. The story of this state’s struggle to advance is mirrored in the struggle of naturalists to overcome years of neglect and lack of funding for science and collections. What is remarkable is the primary role played by the Charleston Museum, not only in leading and supporting investigations in the field, but in training and growing investigators, in storing, gathering and organizing collections, and in disseminating this work through its publications. Founded with an appeal by the Charles Town Library Society in 1772, it is one of the earliest museums established in America. This study is as much a history of the Museum as it is a recounting of investigations and those involved. The narrative bogs down when the authors credit every investigator in every field of study, particularly in the latter part of the 20th century. It is difficult to see how this could be avoided, with so ambitious an objective. Still, Natural History Investigations in South Carolina is well researched and succeeds in setting the groundwork for future investigations by documenting the work that has gone before. Sanders, curator of natural sciences at the Charleston Museum, and Anderson, until his retirement a professor of biology at the College of Charleston, have an intimate knowledge of the natural history of their state, which has served them well in this work. The addition of two excellent appendices, the ‘Chronology of Natural History Investigators in South Carolina’ and ‘Archaeological and Natural History Collections in South Carolina’ make this work a useful tool as well for locating collections. Why South Carolina? Where else in the United States (except perhaps California) does one have the opportunity of observing so many species in as many habitats within the confines of one state. Add to this the social and historical context of the south, and the choice of South Carolina makes sense. Sanders and Anderson have set a benchmark for documenting natural history investigations. More such works are needed. Melinda K. Hayes
Predictions: 30 Great Minds on the Future edited by Sian Griffiths Oxford University Press, 1999. $16.95 hardback (xxi 328 pages) ISBN 0-19-286210-3
The trouble with newspaper articles is that they are as rooted in the present as a rainbow. ‘Tomorrow’s news is dead’, they say. This obvious nonsense – an article, well written, transcends such crude temporal considerations. A fine feature from a decade ago reads as well, and as informatively, as it did the day it was printed.
The authors are an eclectic bunch, and some are avowed opponents This book began in a newspaper, as a series of profiles for the Times Higher Educational Supplement. In preparing the profiles for publication in a single, small volume, the original contributors were asked to add a section on their views and be more positive about their predictions. The authors are an eclectic bunch, and some are avowed opponents. Two of the contributors, both colleagues of mine, are unusually set in juxtaposition. Richard Dawkins once said he would never share a platform with Lynn Margulis, though they do share a platform in this book. Each profile runs for several pages, and is typeset on white paper. The personal comments from each of the celebrities then appears, printed on a pale grey background so that there shall be no mistaking who
wrote what. This is an excellent convention, making the book easy on the eye, as well as convenient for the brain. It’s a user-friendly volume. Some of the predictions are nothing of the sort, but are descriptions of a clear destination that we are already fast approaching. French Anderson, who has been a letterbomb target because of his work on human gene therapy, predicts that: ‘by the year 2030, gene-based therapy will have revolutionised medicine’. He would say that, wouldn’t he? This is his field of work, and in any event the road ahead is clear. This is like Howard Florey offering the view that antibiotics would help medicine along after the war. The point is that Florey (and the rest of society) knew that in the forties; had Fleming said so in 1928, now, that would have been a prediction of some perspicacity. In another section, James Watson predicts our modifying the germ line, a prospect that embodies more than enough ethical uncertainty to count as a challenging prediction. Noam Chomsky is more sanguine. He’s full of thoughts for the future, but in this short essay, he emphasises how fallible are predictions. They may, he concludes, be wide of the mark. The essential point (and it is not one found much in evidence in these essays) is that most predictions are momentum-driven extrapolations from current experience. Arthur C. Clarke actually confesses that, rather than being a ‘prophet’, he prefers to be thought of as an ‘extrapolator’, which is one of the most useful distinctions drawn in the entire book. In some ways, it is easier, and more profitable, to examine what we do not know, rather than what we do. Stephen Jay Gould outlines essentially why prophesy is impossible. He says ‘I am not sanguine about possibilities for predicting the future’, but he says it eloquently and that’s what counts. Paul Davies lists areas of uncertainty, by reminding us how little we know about the origins of the universe, of life, and of human consciousness. His essay expresses the hope that we’ll reach these levels of understanding within the present century, perhaps an inauspicious and self-evident ambition for such a high-flown book. J.K. Galbraith doesn’t exactly make predictions, either, but sets out his hopes for research and development – an attack on poverty and impoverishment – while Amartya Sen similarly contents himself by setting out a wish-list for tomorrow. Endeavour Vol. 24(4) 2000
185