History of the Human Sciences Early Career Prize, 2022-23

History of the Human Sciences – the international journal of peer-reviewed research, which provides the leading forum for work in the social sciences, humanities, human psychology and biology that reflexively examines its own historical origins and interdisciplinary influences – is delighted to announce details of its annual prize for early career scholars. The intention of the annual award is to recognise a researcher whose work best represents the journal’s aim to critically examine traditional assumptions and preoccupations about human beings, their societies and their histories in light of developments that cut across disciplinary boundaries. In the pursuit of these goals, History of the Human Sciences publishes traditional humanistic studies as well work in the social sciences, including the fields of sociology, psychology, political science, the history and philosophy of science, anthropology, classical studies, and literary theory. Scholars working in any of these fields are encouraged to apply.

Guidelines for the Award

Scholars who wish to be considered for the award are asked to submit an up-to-date two-page CV (including a statement that confirms eligibility for the award) and an essay that is a maximum of 12,000 words long (including notes and references). The essay should be unpublished and not under consideration elsewhere, based on original research, written in English, and follow History of the Human Science’s style guide. Scholars are advised to read the journal’s description of its aims and scope, as well as its submission guidelines.

Entries will be judged by a panel drawn from the journal’s editorial team and board. They will identify the essay that best fits the journal’s aims and scope.

Eligibility

Scholars of any nationality who have either not yet been awarded a PhD or are no more than five years from its award are welcome to apply. The judging panel will use the definition of “active years”, with time away from academia for parental leave, health problems, or other relevant reasons being disregarded in the calculation. They will also be sensitive to the disruption that the Covid 19 pandemic has had on career progression and will take such factors into account in their decision making. Candidates are encouraged to include details relating to any of these issues in their supporting documents.

Prize

The winning scholar will be awarded £250 and have their essay published in History of the Human Sciences (subject to the essay passing through the journal’s peer review process). The intention is to award the prize to a single entrant but the judging panel may choose to recognise more than one essay in the event of a particularly strong field.

Deadlines

Entries should be made by Friday 27th January 2022. The panel aims to make a decision by Friday 28th April 2022. The winning entry will be submitted for peer review automatically. The article, clearly identified as the winner of the History of the Human Sciences Early Career Prize, will then be published in the journal as soon as the production schedule allows. The winning scholar and article will also be promoted by History of the Human Sciences, including on its website, which hosts content separate to the journal.

Previous Winners

2021-22: Harry Parker (Cambridge), “The regional survey movement and popular autoethnography in early 20th century Britain”.

Special commendation: Ohad Reiss Sorokin (Princeton), “”‘Intelligence’ before ‘Intelligence Tests’: Alfred Binet’s Experiments on his Daughters (1890-1903)”.

2020-21: Liana Glew (Penn State), “Documenting insanity: Paperwork and patient narratives in psychiatric history” and Simon Torracinta (Yale), “Maps of desire: Edward Tolman’s Drive Theory of Wants”

Special commendation: Erik Baker (Harvard), “The ultimate think tank: The rise of the Santa Fe Institute Libertarian”

2019-20: Danielle Carr (Columbia), “Ghastly Marionettes and the political metaphysics of cognitive liberalism: Anti-behaviourism, language, and The Origins of Totalitarianism”

Special commendation: Katie Joice (Birkbeck), “Mothering in the Frame: cinematic microanalysis and the pathogenic mother, 1945-67”

You can read more about these essays in interviews with the authors on the website.

To Apply

Entrants should e-mail an anonymised copy of their essay, along with an up-to-date CV, to hhs@histhum.com

Further Enquiries

If you have any questions about the prize, or anything relating to the journal, please email hhs@histhum.com

Review: Samuël Coghe, Population Politics in the Tropics

Samuël Coghe: Population Politics in the Tropics: Demography, Health and Transimperialism in Colonial Angola (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022) 317 pp. ISBN 978 1 10894 3 307

Ineke Phaf-Rheinberger (Giessen)

In Population Politics in the Tropics, Samuël Coghe studies the population politics of the Portuguese government in colonial Angola from 1890 to 1945, instigated due to its fear of depopulation. In view of the abolition of slavery, the indigenato-system was set up in 1870, which implied a system of forced labor leading to a formerly unknown regional mobility of African people (The transatlantic slave trade was abolished in 1836 but continued along illegal routes until the end of the century. Slavery was officially abolished in 1875). In times of an increasing influx of Portuguese farmers and traders to “modernize” the colony, especially after the Berlin Conference of 1884/85, smallpox and famines increased because of the breakdown of the ecological control of the lands, based on centuries of long-established modes of agriculture. Now, with the construction of the railway and the introduction of different agrarian cultivations for export, the organization of the land gradually changed and the traditional knowledge of ecological landscapes faded away. Consequently, a “racial disease” (p. 31) spread, known as the sleeping illness, to which native Angolans were especially vulnerable, which made the Portuguese even more convinced of their inferiority. However, the high numbers of sicknesses and deaths made intervention necessary to avoid losing the African working force. This background explains the rise of biomedical interventionism in the region, that took the form of a call for medical assistance and led to the development of the discipline of tropical medicine. In 1902, the Escola Medicina Tropical (EMT) was set up in Lisbon, specializing in sleeping sickness, later followed by the initiative of the Asistência Médica aos Indígenas (AMI) in 1926.

These issues, in a nutshell, are what Coghe’s book investigates, not forgetting that the relationship between Portugal and Angola was determined by the strategies of the Third Portuguese Empire, from 1822 to 1975, when, after India (the First Empire) and Brazil (the Second Empire), politics shifted towards concentrating on the trade and exploitation of its African colonies. The author makes an argument against the commonly held opinion that Portuguese colonialism was exceptional and isolated by emphasizing the circulation of international knowledge and actors between countries and empires in both Europe and Africa.

Coghe first discusses the emergence of depopulation anxieties and population politics in Angola around the turn of the nineteenth century. His second chapter considers the multi-faceted practical efforts to check and cure sleeping sickness in Angola until the end of the First World War. Next, he lays out the debates leading to the establishment of the AMI program in the interwar years. In the fourth chapter, he examines the work of doctors as “field demographers” and population experts in tropical Africa. Step by step, he demonstrates that the focus of the attending medical supervisions on sleeping illness shifted toward a focus on children’s health care, with the underlying presumption of a strongly negative image of African motherhood. In the sixth and final chapter, the author goes beyond medical interventions and emphasizes the spatial dimension of European population politics in their colonies in the first half of the twentieth century. Many Angolans migrated to neighbouring countries, either forced to work on the coffee and cacao plantations in São Tomé and Príncipe or in the mines in surrounding countries, among other reasons, and this problem of migration produced conflicting views between the Colonial Ministry in Lisbon and the central government in Luanda.

The archival material Coghe found in different places was of overwhelming abundance and he repeatedly states that although medical assistance is generally considered to be a “tool” of the colonial empire to control the health of its workers, this view should be cautiously modified. For instance, he found that medical doctors often manipulated their reports on the health situation, hiding their dependence on local intermediaries’ expertise to obtain better results with other types of medication and treatment. Practitioners of local belief resisted European methods which seemed to be opposed to their own interests. Coghe makes the effort to read beyond the narratives contained in archival documents and his suggestions about the role of local medical knowledge are quite revealing.

He equally documents that this medical system was not specific to Portuguese colonization; instead it was a trans-colonial phenomenon. Coghe observes intra-imperial differences and addresses their common strategies for exploitation, modernization of the medical service, colonial actors, debates and policies in other parts of the colonial world. Of particular interest are his arguments against so-called Portuguese exceptionalism. He opposes the influential thesis, developed by Brazilian sociologist Gilberto Freyre, concerning the unique character of Portuguese colonialism as constituting a big interracial family, living peacefully together. Coghe argues that, in Angola, this ‘harmonious’ family refers to a special situation. In the first place, there were also many unattended white children of degradados parents, of convicted criminals deported from Portugal, often with their families. Until 1932, Angola served as Portugal’s ‘imperial prison’” (p. 193) and the convicts lived in physical and moral misery at the margin of the colonial society, mistreating the local population. Also, Coghe questions that the number of people who were officially identified as mestiços was, in absolute numbers, high compared to other colonies in sub-Saharan Africa, particularly in urban areas:

These [high] numbers, however, do not necessarily indicate any special Portuguese propensity of ‘racial mixing’, a long-standing accusation against the Portuguese, and as the Estado Novo would start claiming in the 1950s [….] Gerald Bender has argued that the number and percentage of mestiços in Angola was not exceptional for African colonies when compared to the high number of whites and considering the imbalance in the male-female ratio across the white population. Moreover, definitions of mestiço (and their official number) varied greatly between actors and over time, as they oscillated between somatic, race-biological and cultural criteria, partly depending on political purposes (p. 193).

In his epilogue, Coghe discusses the eventual fear of overpopulation, never a reality in Angola. On the contrary, the country was one of the least heavily populated in sub-Saharan Africa, therefore, in the early 1960s, Portuguese migration reached unprecedented heights, many taking refuge from the rigid dictatorial rule in the metropole. In his closing sentences, Coghe points to the high fertility rates among the local population notwithstanding the long war period after independence from 1975 to 2002, explaining that Angola has one of the highest fertility rates in the world until today.

Coghe’s well-documented study on health in Angola is recommended reading for medical historians, historians of Lusophone Africa, or indeed anyone interested in health strategies in Angola and former African colonies. Furthermore, in my opinion, his observations could also be relevant to those interested in historical novels, in which some characters obviously suffer from sleeping illness, without mentioning it as such, for example, Arnaldo Santos’ A casa velha das margens (The Old House at the Margins, 1999), set in the nineteenth century. Coghe’s cautious interpretation of colonial archives, his detailed understanding of facts and his overall critical tone outlays many controversial issues in health policies in a Portuguese colony in the past, connecting them to the international networks of knowledge at that time.


Interview: Ohad Reiss Sorokin on Alfred Binet, ‘intelligence’ and failed experiments

Ohad Reiss Sorokin, is a postdoctoral fellow at the Institute for Advanced Studies in Culture at the University of Virginia who recently completed a PhD at Princeton University. He received a commendation in this year’s History of the Human Sciences Early Career Essay Prize for his essay ‘Intelligence’ before ‘Intelligence Tests’: Alfred Binet’s Experiments on his Daughters (1890-1903)’. We spoke to him about his interest in Binet and other research.

History of the Human Sciences: First of all, I wonder if you could briefly introduce your broad research interests, including your PhD project “‘I [Suffer] Unfortunately from Intellectual Hunger’: The Geistkreis, Desire for Knowledge, and the Transformation of Intellectual Life in the Twentieth Century”?

Ohad Reiss Sorokin: I wrote this essay a few years ago before I started working on my dissertation. The only thing that ties them together is that the dissertation is also a history of the human sciences but from a very different perspective. My dissertation deals with the ‘Geistkreis’, which was an intellectual circle that was active in Vienna between and 1921 and 1938. It was a meeting place of young philosophers, economists, lawyers, sociologists, psychologists, and art historians. What I argue in the dissertation is that they created this Geistkreis, in order to combat the reigning intellectual environment of Vienna at the time, which is known to be the “mandarin” culture. They tried to create a more open discussion culture that does the human sciences in a way that is not subjugated to the natural sciences, on the other hand, and is not completely metaphysical and out of touch with the empirical evidence, on the other.

HHS: Now to move on to your essay, ‘Intelligence’ before ‘Intelligence Tests’: Alfred Binet’s Experiments on his Daughters (1890-1903)’: who was Alfred Binet, for what is he most famous and how does your article on his work depart from the existing scholarship?

ORS: Binet is a very very famous figure in the history of the French psychology and in experimental psychology. He is most famous for the Binet-Simon test, which became the blueprint for the modern IQ test. That would be his main contribution. But that’s just one aspect of his work. He wrote so much, his bibliography is huge and he worked on many aspects of psychology. He did work with geniuses and people who could make complex calculations in their head to see how they thought. He was also a playwright. My work focuses on the 1903 book [L’Étude expérimentale de l’intelligence [“Experimental Study of Intelligence”], which was not exactly ignored but I argue that there was something very significant there that people have missed.

HHS: From what scientific contexts did the concept of ‘intelligence’ first emerge as a scientific object?

ORS: That is not an easy question to answer because we have a concept of intelligence from at least the Renaissance or even earlier. I focus on a very, very specific concept of intelligence that we talk about now, when we talk about intelligence, which has to be with intelligent tests, it has to do with the ranking of people according to their potential for intellectual achievement. This concept was created in an intellectual context in which empirical psychology became a lot more important in the late mid to late nineteenth century. It was a context in which such a concept was needed in order to sort students in a much more democratized education system.

HHS: And how did Binet understand ‘intelligence’?

ORS: The concept of intelligence I just described, that Binet developed in his 1903 book, has to do with personality, it’s called the personality type psychology of intelligence, which is like types of functions, holistic intellectual affinity/taste capabilities that can be described but cannot be ranked on a hierarchical scale. This is the kind of work that Binet does with his daughters in the 1903 book. He later developed a scale and its goal was to differentiate between what in English is called the ‘feeble minded’ and students who could actually succeed. Later on when he thinks about what was done with his intelligence test, especially in the United States, he never meant to create a number that you can sort people according to, but a scale to be used only in a specific context. It’s plausible that he never meant to do it, but he did nonetheless give the tools that allowed other people to do it.

HHS: What was the significance of Binet’s experiments on his daughters and, specifically, of the failed experiment you discuss?

ORS: The book is is quite interesting. There are definitely other books like that but it’s definitely not something you would see today in any of the natural sciences of psychology. It’s a big collection of experiments described from beginning to end, with all the details included, that he conducted with his daughters for many years. And, at least the way he presents it, he didn’t have a specific goal in mind, other than to study the intelligence of his daughters – whatever this means – and he tries many things. What I emphasize is that a failed experiment can teach us sometimes more than a successful one, especially if the experimenter reflects on the failure, then he can explain to us what he was looking for, he can explain what he didn’t get with the results. Then we can better understand the epistemic object or the thing that he was after that he did not discover. This is, to my mind, the key to understanding the most successful experiments which we just hear were successful.

HHS: What were the implications of Binet conducting experiments outside a laboratory setting – including his discussions of ‘outside noise’ and ‘distractions’ – for his understanding of intelligence?

ORS: I think the interesting thing is that he does not reflect so much about that, if I remember correctly. At the time he was working and was eventually the head of the experimental psychological laboratory in the Sorbonne so he had access to all the machines and instruments that were required but he does not reflect much about the effect of taking those instruments outside of the laboratory. He does, however, get very much annoyed by the fact that he doesn’t have adequate conditions in his home. So I would say as an answer to the question is that he has two subjects that can sees roughly every day, for many, many years which is something that it’s really difficult to duplicate in a laboratory setting. He has all the instruments and he exposed all the norms of laboratory science by remarking on the infringements of the norm that happens because he was working outside the laboratory. If it was just in a laboratory we wouldn’t know, for example, that sound isolation is important to measure intelligence because it’s not obvious, it hasn’t come from the concept that you need to isolate the subject. So in this book he makes these norms explicit and that’s what I found interesting about it

HHS: Why did Binet part ways with British associationism?

ORS: British associationism was, at the time, one of the leading theoretical frameworks for understanding the mechanics of the mind. Binet, who was an autodidact, read all the major works by John Stuart Mill and others, and at first took after them. During the time he was working with his daughters he discovered a number of phenomena that he could not square with the assoociationists’ passive understanding of consciousness, most important among them is, of course, “attention”, i.e., our mind’s capability to willfully focus on certain inputs and ignore others. This break with the British tradition helped him to articulate the need for a theory of the active mind. Intelligence is one way to think about it.

HHS: What role did time measurement devices play in Binet’s research?

ORS: I use the analysis done by Jimena Canales in the book Tenth of a Second. Canales argues that measuring things to the 10th of a second became such a crucial element of science in general in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. It became like a symbol for science in a way. What I argue in the article is that at the beginning of that book it seemed like Binet measured things just out of duty. He’s a scientist so he needs to have a number somewhere. We know that in modern psychology that the mind is tied with time, it happens in time not in space so therefore it follows to measure time. There are tools for that and there’s a concept for that. But you can find time marks for tests that have nothing to do with time. He doesn’t comment on the time, he doesn’t explain why it is important that some took longer or shorter amounts of time.

But then, at some point, he changes, and I argue cautiously that the change is not necessarily a conscious one. At some point he asked the girls to write sentences. He defined the sentence according to their quality, quality in terms of whether it was a descriptive sentence, a poetic sentence or an imaginative sentence and so forth. He measured how much time it took for them to produce each kind of sentence. But then it is a bit like comparing apples and oranges. He compares the different times it took to each girl to perform different tasks. He has time as a way to compare the performance, but he does it in a way that makes no sense, because he himself defines the tasks as diffrernt. He doesn’t explain why he does it but in the paper I argue that this is the blueprint for the notion that we have today that doing something faster is an indication for greater intelligence. I mean to cook an egg is faster than to write paper. It says nothing about the persons cooking eggs or writing papers. That’s basically the argument.

HHS: How is the difference between the two concepts of intelligence Binet outlined in 1903 and 1905 conventionally characterised and how do you understand the relationship between them? Why do you claim that the concept of intelligence outlined in his 1903 book should be seen as a ‘major ontological leap’?

ORS: These are two separate questions, I think. The first one is easier to answer because usually scholars treat the 1905 publication as introducing Binet’s concept of intelligence because in this iteration of the concept intelligence becomes measurable and hierarchical. Those two components are “missing,” or better, not yet in existence, in 1903.

For the most part scholars either treat the1903 concept as a deficient concept on his way to create the, “fully developed” 1905 concept. Or they ignore it altogether because they don’t think about it as a work about intelligence, but as a work about “personality types”. I don’t remember seeing a good account that explained why he called it intelligence nevertheless in 1903.

I was trying to draw attention to the fact that there are some similarities between the two concepts. It’s difficult, I don’t think it’s impossible, but it’s difficult to find in other major works on intelligence from the time period. It is the idea that intelligence is subjective, in the sense that we measure or look at the intelligence of each person separately. It is not about a philosophical or general concept of intelligence. It’s immaterial – not about the size of the brain or the density of the brain or anything like that – and yet it’s empirically observable.

It’s not something that you learn from a conceptual analysis of any sort. Instead you need to take people to the lab or make an empirical examination or make them take a test. The combination of those characteristics is already there in 1903.

I wouldn’t be the first to argue that Binet has a very eclectic method. This constellation of characteristics is the result of his eclectic method and it’s an ontological leap in the sense that it creates in the world an object that did not exist before. The idea that we each have a specific thing that was like an organ but immaterial and yet is observable with particular methods.

HHS: I began by asking you about your PhD project and wondered if in conclusion you could say something about where you hope your research might lead in the future.

ORS: I’ve been working on the dissertation about the ‘Geistkreis’ for four years now and with time I realized that what I found so attractive about this circle is that they are almost an embodiment of the idea of desire for knowledge. I’m interested in how knowledge and desire survive together in the realm of professional humanities, in the twentieth and early twenty-first century. I’m about to start a postdoc position in the Institute for Advanced Studies of Culture at the University of Virginia and I hope to follow this thread.