Cacogenic Cartographies: Space and Place in the Eugenic Family Study

figure-1

I’ve got a new article out in the Journal of the History of Biology. It’s an historiographical re-examination of the eugenic family studies which were so critical to moving eugenics into mainstream cultural and thinking, with a specific focus on space and place as analytical frameworks.

Abstract: 

Though only one component product of the larger eugenics movement, the eugenic family study proved to be, by far, its most potent ideological tool. The Kallikak Family, for instance, went through eight editions between 1913 and 1931. This essay argues that the current scholarship has missed important ways that the architects of the eugenic family studies theorized and described the subjects of their investigation. Using one sparsely interrogated work (sociologist Frank Wilson Blackmar’s “The Smoky Pilgrims”) and one previously unknown eugenic family study (biologist Frank Gary Brooks’ untitled analysis of the flood-zone Oklahomans) from the Southern Plains, this essay aims to introduce “environment” as a schema that allows for how the subjects of the eugenic family study were conceptualized with respect to their surroundings. Geospatially and environmentally relevant constructions of scientific knowledge were central to the project of eugenics during its formative years, but remain largely and conspicuously absent from the critical literature which engages this project to separate the fit from the unfit in American society. The dysgenic constituted a unique human geography, giving us significant insight into how concatenations of jurisprudence as well as cultural and social worth were tied to the land.

Keywords

Eugenics; Family studies; Environment; Heredity; Human geography

You can read the whole essay here: marcattilio-mccracken-cacogenic-cartographies-2016:
Update, 11/2/16: The essay suggests that such studies which make use of environmentally relevant frameworks probably abound, if we but take the time to look. Here are two more.
It should also be pointed out that projects of this sort align well with the nascent field of critical cartography and the attendant matrices of spatial citizenship.

The Unbearable Lightness of Bee-ing.

 

Feeding_Honey_Bee_II_by_Japers

That was a pun. This is a post about bees.

So I’ve got this fascination with bees. Not up-close, because I’m afraid they’ll sting me and I’ll die. I got stung fairly regularly as a wee one (as one would expect growing up in the country in Minnesota) but also more than you’d think as both a teenager and young adult (no real satisfactory explanation for this). Three I remember vividly. Stepped on a nest while mowing the lawn, which wouldn’t have been that big a deal but I’d accidentally just run it over and was mowing barefoot at the time. They were pissed, and I rightly got hit about half a dozen times. Then once when I was older in the face, which was as initially terrifying as you’d expect but faded pretty quickly, and then finally once in the arm which (because of the latter) I figured would be no big deal until it swelled up so much I couldn’t bend my wrist for most of a day. So I keep my distance these days, and admire them from afar.

Bees are infinitely interesting. They’ve been around for millions of years, and navigated potentially cladogenetic environmental changes time and again by positively selecting advantageous traits very rapidly. Darwin was fascinated by them. They confounded human ingenuity for hundreds of years. I wrote about how they can help us be smarter in designing elections a while back. I guess, to me, they represent some ultimate form of crowdsourcing the decision-making apparatus, and serve in so many cases of the power of collective intelligence.

beekeeper's lament

So recently, I picked up Hannah Nordhaus’ The Beekeeper’s Lament: How One Man and Half a Billion Honey Bees Help Feed the World. To be completely honest, I wasn’t expecting that much from it. Some overly dramatic language on how global warming/pesticide use/habitat loss has and continues to decimate bee populations and that’s going to lead to the end of life as we know it. Recent years have seen staggering bee losses in the United States, as any non-sequestered individual knows, and I assumed that would be the tent pole of the book. As a reader, such treatments bore me to tears. As an animal lover, I wasn’t really looking forward to a couple hundred pages about here’s another way I need to be ashamed of my species. As an historian of science and (in some ways) strict Darwinian, I knew it would probably be overwrought. Nature, for good and ill, finds a way. Species adapt, or they don’t, and the world keeps on turning. If humanity accidentally nukes itself a thousand times over, one or a hundred or a thousand million years from now life will emerge and start again.

Thankfully, refreshingly, astonishingly, even, Nordhaus manages to eschew that caricatured narrative which so plagues other science and nature writing (even by people who should know better). Certainly at times The Beekeeper’s Lament is a paean to a simpler time. Alternately, too, it might strike some occasionally as a hand holding a megaphone prophesying a looming Armageddon. Here and there, heartbreakingly, it is unavoidably Sinclairean in its portrayal of the honey-producing industry and the life of the average bee in America. It is, in fact, more than most a many-faceted narrative of hardship, loss, hope, triumph, tranquility, anxiety, sacrifice, community, loneliness, and stubbornness. It is, in other words, a narrative of the American beekeeper.

If that kind of exploration interests you, and you have an appreciation for consistently clear writing marked by a strong authorial voice, you’ll love The Beekeeper’s Lament. Nordhaus demonstrates a talent for making her characters come to life, which is quite the feat given how boring we know most of our fellow humans to be. John Miller, a beekeeper from California who also spends time in the northern plains, is the simultaneously irascible, gregarious, obsessive, laissez-faire, and above all committed central thread of the narrative. This is a book that, as I’m sure Nordhaus would admit, is as much his as it is hers. And he is, if not always likable, certainly insightful and interesting.

It’s a book filled with the minutiae (and history) of beekeeping, bee physiology, bee habitats and ecosystems, and the honey marketplace. The two most compelling points of the narrative are at once simple and revealing of the past, current, and future prospects for bees and all of the constituent ways in which their lives intersect our own.

The first is that the beekeeper hangs on by a thread. Varroa mites and pesticides contributing to colony collapse disorder (CCD), trade pressures (and laundered honey from China), disappearing habitats, the monoculture pursued by farmers, and labor shortages—in addition to what is at times an astonishing dearth of knowledge about the basic needs and lives of bees on the part of zoologists and biologists—all ensure that the beekeeper, more than most, lives a precarious existence. Beekeeping is an occupation, a way of life, really, that requires one to expect just as many bad years as good years. Pollination (of almonds, oranges, etc.) would be a much more hassle-free, lucrative way to put their bees to work. One doesn’t go into the bee business to make money, as the current demographic trends of the industry in the last two decades reflect. Beekeepers are getting older, and many are finding it difficult to find individuals to continue the work in the next generation.

The second is that for bees (both individuals and as a collective) life is an intensely focused affair that for all but a few will be almost certainly violently cut short. For some only recently understood (but many more often hidden) reasons, as a species their existence is a continual massacre. Nordhaus reiterates the common point that those who have in recent years followed the saga of the bee already know: that without the honey industry, the bee would virtually disappear from our daily lives. John Miller has about ten thousand hives holding around eighty thousand bees apiece, for a total population of three quarters of a billion bees. But in 2004 he lost thirty million bees when a truck transporting hives crashed. In 2008 he lost twenty five percent of his hives to CCD. Acceptable yearly loss before 2007 was fifteen percent, which is a lot when you consider there are some two trillion honey bees in the United States. Now, it’s thirty percent. Hundreds of millions of bees die every year, and will continue to do so. Oftentimes, honey bee outfits only survive because Miller and others raise queens and ship them around the country especially for repopulation after a colony collapse (in fact, it’s become an industry in its own right). This remains one of the most powerful lessons of the book, and speaks not only to the stubborn resilience of the American beekeeper but to the horror of an industry which views millions of deaths as part of a cycle that constitutes the new normal.

What would happen if we put the brakes on it all? Some conservationists would argue (usually the same ones that claim we need to keep eating beef or the cow would go extinct, so we’re really doing them a favor) that the honey bee would go the way of the dodo, the golden toad, the zanzibar leopard, or the javan tiger if we no longer acted as shepherd in the cruel, modern world. Varroa would prove their demise, or habitat loss would finish them off. Yet as Nordhaus also ably relates, bees remain, more than most, a resilient species. Some few variants would undoubtedly show adaptations which would allow them to survive and even flourish in an otherwise bee-less world. Whether we’d have honey for our consumables (or honey we’d want to use) or the two hundred billion dollars’ worth of crops bees pollinate each year remains a far less relevant story, evolutionarily speaking (except, of course, to the beekeeper). Or maybe there’s a third way, where we decide responsible cohabitation of the land with other species doesn’t automatically constitute endorsement of some anti-human narrative. Or that this is an either/or proposition. If that means I pay ten or twelve of fifteen bucks an ounce for honey, then I guess that’s what I’ll do.

And in spite of the endless cycles which seem to govern the life of the honey bee as a species, they are, as I’m sure Miller or any other beekeeper will tell you, unique and distinctive in their lives. Peel back the superficial, peer into the microcosmic, and you’ll find the moods, the whims, the predilections of the individual honey bee. And that, friends, is why Kundera serves as a better title for this post. That, and Nietschze has always seemed a gloomy bastard to me.

*Header image from http://japers.deviantart.com/

Exorcising the Demons of our Past: Why Eugenics Wasn’t What You Think It Was, and Why That Matters

Science of human perfection

BOOK REVIEW: Comfort, Nathaniel. The Science of Human Perfection: How Genes Became the Heart of American Medicine. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012.

With for-profit companies offering genetic testing at prices approaching the commercially viable for the first time since the sequencing of the human genome ($1,000), eugenics as a topic of discussion in academic circles and in the popular news cycle alike will increase dramatically in frequency over the course of the next decade. In fact, it will likely be one of the conversational signposts of the twenty first century.  Designer babies, three-parent children, genomic medical therapeutics, and the stubborn persistence of racism and poor arguments disguised as science, like an eye booger clinging crustily on and just generally being a pain in the ass for everyone.

What was eugenics? For those unfamiliar, eugenics was a wildly popular scientific, cultural, social, and political movement in America (most popular) during the first half of the twentieth century. Spurred by advances in genetics after the rediscovery of Gregor Mendel’s famous work with pea plants in 1900, it developed simultaneously to medical genetics (i.e. using knowledge about genes to improve medical care). Both stretch all the way back to the beginning of the twentieth century (though most histories of medical genetics really begin in the 1950s).

So eugenics developed alongside humanity’s first stumbling investigations about what, how, and why traits get passed along from generation to generation. Eye color, physical build, demeanor, mental ability, susceptibility to disease—these are the types of qualities a new breed of scientists called geneticists initially sought out in the base material responsible for the direction taken by human evolution. Naturally, many quickly (and early on) suggested that now that humanity had access to the “germ plasm” (as they called DNA, which wouldn’t be discovered until the 1920s) we could take a conscious hand in directing the future of human evolution.

What does this have to do with Nathaniel Comfort’s Science of Human Perfection? Everything! This book is an attempt by Comfort, an historian of genetics and medicine at Johns Hopkins University, to do two things: 1) recover the thread of “medical genetics” from the history of eugenics, and 2) Demonstrate how the larger eugenics movement, reviled in the popular mind as the twisted progeny of the Nazis unleashed upon Europe’s non-Aryan ethnicities, was in fact a far more complex phenomena that, at its heart, was about “human improvement and the relief of suffering” (x). Now “human improvement” sounds an awful lot like the superman programs of the Third Reich, but, as Comfort shows clearly, the larger aim of the movement saw “improvement” as eliminating disease, inherited disorders, as well as increased intelligence and a stronger constitution.

Comfort traces this thread of medical genetics as it gradually thickened from 1910-1930. He notes the abandonment of most geneticists of eugenics by the 1930s as two obstacles appeared: first, the complexity of designing reliable experiments that could account for the complicated milieu going on inside the “germ plasm” as it was affected by environment (this is the classic nature vs. nurture dichotomy), and second, the ethical boundaries to carrying out those experiments on human beings. Instead, scientists like Michael F. Guyer at places like the University of Wisconsin occupied themselves with mice, fruit flies, and corn.

During this process, Comfort introduces another welcome formulation of distinguishing the strands of eugenic thought: Galtonian vs. Garrodian. The former settles its gaze on the population, whilst the latter emphasizes the individual. This opens up a whole new framework for understanding American eugenics that moves beyond the positive-negative dichotomy and adds nuance without sacrificing the accomplishments of previous scholarship.

Comfort follows the narrative into the 1950s and the advent of heredity clinics (which we still have today in the form of marriage counseling as it pertains to heredity), and shows how geneticists, with the onset of the Cold War and worries about the effects of radiation on the human genome, and also now bolstered by a quarter century of advances in knowledge and technique, re-approached medical genetics in the 1950s. There, The Science of Human Perfection ends.

This is a monograph that is, importantly, thoroughly researched and convincingly argued. Despite seeing increasing popularity in the scholarship during the last twenty years or so, eugenics still remains something of the bastard stepchild of history of science in academia. To blame this trend solely on the uncomfortableness the subject tends to engender (being tied so closely with the (bio-)political) seems to come, at least in part, from a public that wishes to forget the United States ever had an active movement for forced sterilization  and a larger history of science community of scholars who have gone along with that. At the same time, this is something of a copout and a cliché all at once. American eugenics was not Nazi eugenics: in intellectual grounding, structure (both in terms of the individuals proponents and organization), praxis, or even mostly time. And the threads of American eugenics, as we can see in Comfort’s excellent treatment (and elsewhere), certainly didn’t die with Hitler in that underground bunker in April of 1945. Comfort, thankfully, elaborates with nuance and persuasiveness on both realities.

Even more welcome by those of us in the history of science who are too used to slogging through interminably boring prose, is that The Science of Human Perfection is incredibly well-written.Comfort has a wonderful way with words, and an ability to render primary sources into a compelling narrative. It is, aside from being one of the more important revisions of the historical literature on eugenics, one of the best-written studies in any sub-discipline of history I have had the pleasure of reading.

For anyone interested, Comfort runs the excellent Genotopia over at scienceblogs.

Book Review- Mark Fiege’s Republic of Nature

It’s a strange day when a book arrives in your mailbox to review and on the back are laudatory quotations from scholarly giants William Cronon and Richard White. Snagging one of these guys is the equivalent to scoring over a million points in Donkey Kong. Getting both is like achieving the latter upside down. It just doesn’t happen.

So I was excited to crack open Mark Fiege’s Republic of Nature and see what it had to offer. I’m technically not an environmental historian, but alot of the stuff I get to read and write about intersects with notions about the natural and landscape. But this book has it’s own website. Which is kind of a Big Deal.

The short version of this review is Fiege nails it. Absolutely nails it. For the long version, read onward, oh denizens of the internet.

The best examples of historical scholarship usually do one of two things: either they open up, in dramatic fashion, new areas of exploration via methodological tools or theoretical frameworks, or they cut across the bounds of time and the scores of texts which the history profession produces to synthesize scholarship and show that what we thought was many was actually one. Mark Fiege accomplishes the latter of these in The Republic of Nature.

This is, as the author acknowledges from the outset, something of a peculiar book. It does not propose to be a radical or alternate history, refuting the claims of previous surveys of American history. And yet the narrative it weaves uncovers a tapestry of experiences and interconnections that will be striking and new to most. Indeed, it is not a comprehensive survey at all, but instead chooses nine moments of experience in American life, from the Salem witch trials, to the American Revolution, King Cotton, Abraham Lincoln, the Battle of Gettysburg, the transcontinental railroad, the Manhattan project, Brown v. Board of Education, and the oil crisis of 1973-4, to excavate the place of environment and relocate it from the borders of American history to its center.

Chapters 3 (King Cotton), 5 (Gettysburg), 7 (the Manhattan Project), and 8 (Brown v. Board) are the strongest of the book. Of these, I was most pleasantly surprised by the latter two. Throughout, Fiege marshals an impressive understanding of the secondary literature, supplemented by select primary sources, to delve into the rhizomatic. Collectively, these chapters demonstrate best what seems obvious by the end of the study: that American history is environmental history. The individual human experience remains ineluctably rooted in the demographic, the topographical, the geological, the biological, and the ecological. The cycles that govern nature equally govern human lives—work and play, love and hate, life and death. The forces that shape, equally, the countryside and the city, also influence profoundly human industry, politics, conflict, interaction, and scientific and technological inquiry. Fortunes wax and wane interchangeably according to the degree with which the natural is transported, transformed, and traversed.

To single the above out is not to suggest the rest of the text falls short. Indeed, there are moments in the chapters below that will, even to seasoned scholars, offer novel interpretations useful in constructing with more fidelity the penumbra of experience in American life. Chapter 2 (By the Laws of Nature and Nature’s God) remains the weakest, locating republican fervor in the shift from divine law to natural law and presenting the opportunity for revolution at the same time it portended trouble down the road for slavery. Fiege’s analytical framework seems the most stretched here, and has trouble accounting for the totality of experience with little information presented that does not already exist elsewhere. Chapter 4 (Nature’s Nobleman) is somewhat less thin, locating the inception and maturation of Lincoln’s particular antislavery ideology in his formative experiences as a child and young man working the land and coming up against the harsh realities of free market labor. In places, it struggles to connect this experience with the political expediencies of war and the decisions that they necessitated. Other chapters, like the first (Satan in the Land), do not suffer from analytical flaws but rather see somewhat more compelling treatment elsewhere (in this case David Hall’s Worlds of Wonder (1989)).

That this review enumerates these fuzzier moments in The Republic of Nature should emphatically not to suggest to potential readers that Fiege’s narrative is one worth passing over. Indeed the opposite—the above moments merely shine slightly less in a study that is as a whole a stunning and beautifully treated reconceptualization of the those moments in American history which survey courses have taught us to dread. 

Energy and Power: The History of Hydroelectricity in the American Northwest

Hirt and Wilma book review

Paul W. Hirt. The Wired Northwest: The History of Electric Power, 1870s-1970s. (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2012. Illustrations, notes, bibliography, index. ix, 462 pp. $49.95)

David W. Wilma, Walt Crowley, and the HistoryLink Staff. Power for the People: A History of Seattle City Light. (Seattle: HistoryLink in Association with University of Washington Press, 2010. Illustrations, notes, index. 131 pp. $29.95.

It is a rare opportunity to review two texts which complement one another so well with regards to theme and scope. Paul W. Hirt in The Wired Northwest presents to us an ambitious, comprehensive, and integrated history of the development of regional power in Washington, Utah, Oregon, and British Columbia from 1870-1970. David Wilma, Walt Crowley, and the HistoryLink staff, on the other hand, attempt to render in detail a microcosm of Hirt’s larger narrative—that of the history of Seattle City Light, a municipal electric utility that in numerous ways lies at the heart of Hirt’s story—during almost the same period. Together, they offer a compelling account of reification, rationalization, ideology, and regional identity.

Harnessing the region’s rivers and watersheds remains, from the beginning, central to both stories, as environmental historians of the Northwest have shown for decades. Wilma, et. al. traces the stuttering emergence of this new technology that promised to liberate the masses from the darkness in the quickly growing city of Seattle in 1886, with two dynamos generating enough electricity for just three hundred sixteen-candlepower lamps from a single hydroelectric power source. Though, as Hirt points out, initially uneven in adoption and  use, questions about who would control production, transmission, and consumption of the nascent resource would immediately engender debate between public utilities charged with providing low-cost energy to as many as possible and private companies who claimed to be the inheritors of the American capitalist spirit.

Hirt’s wonderfully rich narrative of the northwest emphasizes the region’s early adoption of the electrical revolution, pioneered by industry magnates who both lighted private residences and began the process of illuminating those job sites where artificial light promised to increase productivity and profits, like mines and shipping yards, as well as re-organize factories on both sides of the border. Subjects include the amalgamation of small utilities into ever larger ones, the enthusiastic optimism in the possibilities offered by this new technology (some of which were quickly tempered by unequal service and prices for residential and commercial customers), apprehension of growing monopolies, conflict between competing industries attempting to rationalize the river (hydroelectric versus fishing), and the distinctive nature of energy history in the Northwest,  uniquely marked by geography as hydroelectric boosters, entrepreneurs, cooperatives, and regulators followed the twisting rivers, gorges, and watersheds of the region.

Hirt tends to favor the machinations of the private utility and the needs of industry, yet given his charge to synthesize a hundred years of energy history this is not entirely his fault. Municipal utilities, as shown by Wilma, et. al., were, especially in the early years, mercurial and small in number. Indeed, Wilma, et. al. provides a balance to Hirt’s narrative of the ideological struggle which quickly developed between proponents of private and public power by reminding us of the development of a powerful electric sensibility by the masses of people that could only be sated by more reliable, lower-priced, and increasing amounts of electricity.

Together Hirt and Wilma, et. al. demonstrate the fear of “foreigners” held by West Coast citizens, as they saw bankers, financiers, and capitalists from Chicago, Boston and New York attempt to enter the electric utility market via direct and indirect avenues of influence. They both also agree that the 1915 victory of the National Electric Light Association, effectively prohibiting municipal electric utilities from selling power beyond city limits, was a serious blow to anti-corporate interests in the public-private war. This conflict would, over time, come to dominate the electric industry no just in the Northwest, but across the United States.

At the same time, they each bring independent subjects to bear. Hirt highlights the particularities of electric power in the United States and Canada, like the fact that for Canadians growth remained generally slower, government regulation less transformative (especially during the world wars), and the worldwide depression of the 1930s more inhibiting to rural electrification, technical progress, and large hydroelectric projects because of already-strained economies and cautious financiers. He also spends considerable time with the Bonneville Power Administration and the long-reaching effects of federally funded hydroelectric projects would have on shaping the industry. Wilma, et. al., on the other hand, traces in meticulous detail the Seattle City Light’s sometimes rocky growth into the largest publicly owned utility in the region. Particularly welcome are moments like Seattle City Light’s implementation of public tours from 1929-1940, designed to keep the utility in the public eye during economic hardship. Picturesque train rides, guided tours of the monumental engineering project at Skagit River, an overnight stay, and imported plant and animal life made the destination successful to the tune of twenty-two thousand visitors per year by the start of World War Two. Especially useful to the reader is Wilma, et. al.’s rendering of life as a City Light employee with respect not only to daily activities for linemen, sales people, and troubleshooters, but the extent to which they all formed a complex association of families who lived, learned, worked, voted, commiserated and celebrated together.

The two texts are not without their disagreements. For instance, Wilma, et. al argues that in the early years of Seattle City Light residential customers were charged eight cents per kilowatt hour, with reduced rates as usage increased, while for commercial customers, rates were “generally higher” (28). This is in contrast to the trend unearthed by Hirt, which without fail notices commercial customers who use far more electricity than the average residential customer enjoying significantly reduced rates. Such trends provided continuous ammunition for the multifarious interests publicly debating the merits of various degrees of public and private ownership.

Both Hirt and Wilma end their parallel narratives with the onset of the 1970s and how the philosophy of pushing unending consumption (on the basis that production would meet future needs) suffered a relatively quick, if not easy, death. Economic realities along with local and global politics changed the landscape of public and private power. New imperatives transformed what it meant to be a corporate or public electric power entity in the late twentieth century, as the advent of the environmental impact study and new definitions of conservation among bureaucrats together redefined the manner by which the public accepted the harnessing of nature’s energy for their own and future generations.

 

This review will be published in the upcoming issue of the Pacific Northwest Quarterly.

U.S.S. Nautilus (SSN-571)- A Photo Tour

USS_Nautilus_SSN571

A couple of weeks ago I visited the U.S.S. Nautilus (designation SSN-571) in Groton, CT. The Nautilus bears the distinction of being the first nuclear-powered submarine put in operation by the United States Navy. It was operational from 1954-1980, during which time, notably, it completed a “submerged transit” of the North Pole (1958) and participated in the blockade of Cuba (October 1962). The Nautilus broke a number of submarine records, largely rendered the anti-sub countermeasures of WWII obsolete, and represented a critical stage in the development of warfare during the Cold War. Feel free to read more about it here, here, and here. On to the pictures!

See the full 157-picture tour via google drive here.

1 plaque

2 schematics

 

3 1892 edition Jules Verne

the bridge

4 Bridge
crew mess

5 crew mess

A3 oxygen breathing apparatus

6 A3 Oxygen breathing apparatus

battery banks

7 battery banks

battery banks diagnostic equipment

7-2 battery banks diagnostics

kitchen

7 kitchen

officer bunk

8 officer bunk

 

pinups everywhere

P1080618

radio room

9 radio room

radio room 2

9-2 radio room 2

reactor room pressure gauge (probably pretty important)
10 reactor room pressure

opposite torpedo room

11 torpedo room guts

deck

12  deck

 

Hill Folk and Hereditary Pauperism: The Eugenic Family Study

jukes

Numbers are seductive to us all, alluring, like the aroma of a fine (organically grown and fairly traded) coffee. They whisper promises of clarity in our ears. Easy solutions to complex problems are likewise appealing and easily sold to a public who, while its individual members are capable of critical thinking and sacrifice, collectively believe any burden at all in the name of the greater good is a burden too much. And new methodological tools and frameworks are like powdered alcohol to academics (especially those looking to professionalize and legitimize a new discipline)—easily transported, flexible, and everyone wants to be a dealer and corner the market.

Add these individual ingredients together in a world all of a sudden uncomfortably crowded, shrinking, apparently degenerate, and confusingly modern, and you get a monumentally potent tool that would, eventually, usher in American eugenics: the family study.

The eugenic family study has its roots in a genealogical report done by Richard Dugdale in The Jukes: A Study in Crime, Pauperism, Disease and Heredity (1877), which I won’t regurgitate at length here because Wikipedia exists. In any case, what it was is far less important than what it suggested for future generations of social scientists—that one’s familial line was an accurate predictor of intelligence, success, indigence, and criminality. The more palatable offshoot of this brand of progressivism was, of course, the “fitter family” contests of the first quarter of the twentieth century.

189-Medium-family-winner-Fitter-Families-Contest-Kansas-State-Free-Fair-1927-family-examination-summary

These family studies of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries located specific familial clans (like the pseudonymously named Jukes or the Kallikaks or the Nams or the Zeros) and attempted to trace their lineage and prove that imbeciles and criminals reproduced in proportionally greater numbers more imbeciles and criminals. Funded by organizations like the Eugenics Records Office at Cold Spring Harbor, and either submitted to state review boards or, in a couple of cases, published by philanthropists and eugenicists like John D. Rockefeller, these eugenic family studies were powerful artifacts of a cultural ethos. They were birthed by those taking part in a countermovement to public welfare reform in the United States, the latter of which itself had been stimulated by a public worried by the excesses of unregulated capitalism in what Twain called the “Gilded Age.”

Coetaneously, the eugenic family studies were a driving force in their own right. Proliferating between 1890 and 1924, they were read, cited, and built upon by prominent eugenicists in their efforts to maximize reproduction of the fit and reduce procreation of those deemed “feebleminded.” As such they were part of a much larger ideological and political stance, which in no small part stressed the burden on the state of families of these “degenerates.” They were no less than scientifically-sanctioned statements of bloodline worth, ontologies of heredity which would have much wider implications in decades to come.

1881-State-Expenses-for-Maintaining-State-Institutions-for-the-Socially-Inadequate-Classes-1916-Eugenical-News-vol-5

But they were also something more, and served yet another purpose that heavily influenced their methodology, content, and scope. Because the investigators who undertook these projects—going into the countryside and seeking out the poor in rural areas and pestering them with questions about their immediate and extended families—were themselves preoccupied with privileging a merit-based hierarchy where mental capacity was equated with genetic worth (in order so that they could advance their own careers and reputations), the studies subsequently came to reflect and validate the ambitions of middle-class professionals who emerged to fill this new niche of social control in a culturally tumultuous time.

126-Data-collected-by-Miss-Devitt-May-and-Nov-1915-Eugenics-Records-Office-fieldworker

How popular did they become? Nathaniel Comfort offers a nice pithy summation for us:

“The ERO [Eugenics Records Office] introduced a novel and durable method of collecting human genetics data. Elaborating on [Francis] Galton’s idea of the eugenics ‘record,’ [Charles] Davenport developed a questionnaire of the type Galton used. But instead of marching people though his kiosk one by one, Davenport used mass-mailing, and, most effectively, ‘fieldworkers’ to collect data. The fieldworkers—more than 250 of them between 1910 and 1924—were mostly young women, many of them nursing students form the New York City area . . . [t]rainees spent a summer in Cold Spring Harbor, where their received twenty-five lectures encompassing interview methods, construction of pedigrees, and the elements of statistics and biometry. The young women then went out in the field for a year, where they catalogued and documented the hereditary patterns of the diseased and insane. The data were recorded three-by-five-inch cards and stored in a fireproof vault back at Cold Spring Harbor. By 1924, fieldworkers had filled out and filed 750,000 cards.”[1]

The result is that they helped grease the wheels for American eugenics with a potency long forgotten by high-school history textbooks, a movement which resulted in the sterilization of over 63,000 individuals between 1907 and 1964.

The general consensus is that the eugenic family studies died a justifiable death by the early 1920s, succumbing to advances in genetics which ate at the crumbling foundations of easy, simplistic biological determinism. And yet, polemics invested in the notion of races and classes of hereditary worth have been with us ever since.

 

Further reading

Dugdale, Richard. The Jukes. New York: Putnam, 1877. Link to full text via archive.org.

Estabrook, Arthur Howard. The Jukes in 1915.Washington: Carnegie Institution, 1915. Link to full text via archive.org. 

Comfort, Nathaniel. The Science of Human Perfection: How Genes Became the Heart of American Medicine. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012.

Rafter, Nicole Hahn. Creating Born Criminals. Urbana-Champagne: Illinois University Press, 1998.

—. White Trash: The Eugenic Family Studies, 1877-1919. Boston:   Northeastern University Press, 1988.

Smith, J. David and Michael Wehmeyer, Good Blood, Bad Blood: Science, Nature, and the Myth of the Kallikaks. Washington: American Association on Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities, 2012.

 

*Image 1: The Jukes, ca. 1910, by Arthur Estabrook

**Image 2: State expenses for maintaining the socially inadequate classes, Eugenical News, 1916.

***Image 3: medium family winner, fitter family contest at the Kansas Free Fair, 1927.

****Image 4: ERO data collected by Miss Devitt in Oklahoma in May and November, 1915.

Endnotes

[1] Comfort, The Science of Human Perfection, 40.

One Way American and Nazi Eugenics Were Pretty Much the Same

us and nazi eugenics

One of the problems the literature on the history of eugenics as a whole has is that it has a tendency to want to forget the ways American eugenics was like Nazi eugenics. It gets hidden in explorations of specific socio-cultural products or institutional aspects of the eugenics movement, or from (justified) theoretical and methodological attacks on legitimately bad histories of eugenics (like War Against the Weak or Better for all the World). It even comes from a desire to acknowledge all the ways American eugenics was like Nazi eugenics, but excavates those processes, impulses, and trends which are unique to the American experience.

Now, to be clear from the beginning: Nazi eugenics and American eugenics did spring from largely different intellectual, cultural, social, and political circumstances. But the fact of the matter is, at least 63,000 (officially, and likely many, many more) individuals were sterilized by the state in America during the twentieth century. Thus I’d like to take the eugenics movement as it operated for a large proportion of a particular profession (medical practitioners), and see where it takes us. What we’ll see is that there are some striking similarities between American and Nazi eugenics that are not so easily forgotten. Perhaps the most visible of these is the central role doctors, physicians, and other medical practitioners played in the sterilization of thousands upon thousands of “unfit” people.

United States

The eugenics movement arrived in the United States in 1907 (when the first compulsory sterilization law was enacted in Indiana) and remained a potent force until its slow decline and transformation beginning in the late 1930s. Whereas we will see below that, in Nazi Germany, eugenics enjoyed critical scientific and institutional support from medical scientists and physicians both as front-line practitioners and experimenters as well as ethical justification by medical bureaucrats, in the United States this was not the case. While at its apex in the early 1930s some thirty two states had enacted eugenic sterilization laws, the movement in the United States is characterized best as having had a diffused, decentralized, and multifaceted nature. There is no doubt that many physicians and medical practitioners in the United States were eugenicists. But what is equally certain is that, for the most part, the America eugenics movement from 1907-1945 remained, both in quality and quantity, composed of politicians, non-medical scientists (ichthyologists, entomologists, biologists, sociologists, paleontologists), and bureaucrats far more than physicians and other medical practitioners.

The qualification to this is in direct settings where both forced and voluntary sterilizations did take place in the United States—some 21,000 by 1935 and 64,000 by 1960, by most estimates—and that was the prison ward and the mental hospital. Leading the charge were California, with the most involuntary sterilizations during the period in question, and Virginia, with the second most.

So who were the medical practitioners central to the American movement?

Physicians in mental hospitals and prisons: Plenty of historians have looked at the history of the vasectomy and the salpingectomy, the rise of eugenic sterilization laws, the debate at the legislative level over both the desirability and parameters of such laws, the legislative debate surrounding them, and the differences that existed between the various states when it came to implementing and sustaining involuntary sterilization of citizens.They show that medical practitioners argued for greater degrees of eugenic sterilization not only in the Eugenical News (the leading forum at the national level), but alsothe discussions at the local level by physicians at mental hospitals in Ohio, Maine, Virginia, Minnesota, North Carolina, and, of course, California,

Psychiatrists: Other historians have shown how psychiatrists as a group of professionals fighting for validation and legitimization in an environment where they were uniquely predisposed to assimilate ideas about the heritability of defective characteristics advanced eugenic ideas. Indeed, at the same time that they were facing pressure from politicians and the federal government to modernize and standardize as a scientific discipline, psychiatrists participated in the public eugenics debate both in Canada and the United States. By looking at patient court cases at mental hospitals and state asylums, national legislation, and internal debates among the rank of file of psychiatry in varied places like New York, California, Rhode Island, Mississippi, and Toronto, we can get a valuable look at how an emerging discipline navigates the waters of an often murky and ambiguous scientific endeavor.

A change in the air: Reform Eugenics: Beginning in the mid-1930s, the emergence of a new, more sophisticated genetics brought with it a “reform eugenics,” which at once recognized the perverted state the eugenics movement lay in at that moment, but still sought after the original Galton vision of a humanity free from its pernicious biology by excising the identifiably genetically unfit. This is evidenced by the fact that the Third International Congress of Eugenics, held in New York in 1932, saw an attendance of only about a hundred people. Reflecting the developments of nearly half a century of experimentation and theorizing, by this time genetics had begun to inform the movement and change its nature.

It can be marked particularly by the publication of a 1936 report by a committee of the American Neurological Association, itself a strong opponent of eugenics throughout the entirety of its existence in the United States. Headed by prominent Boston psychiatrist Abraham Myerson, and drawing upon independent conclusions as well as the findings of the Brock committee report, this group found no sound scientific basis for sterilization on account of immorality or character defect. Human conduct and character are matters of too complex a nature, too interwoven with social conditions, to permit any definite conclusions to be drawn concerning the part which heredity plays in their genesis.

This change was reified primarily in the makeup of the eugenics movement as well as a slight shift to its message. In the case of the former, it meant that medical professionals became the new spokespeople, albeit of a eugenics that was far less oppressive, naïve, confident, and involuntary than before. For some diseases, like Huntington’s chorea, it was clear that dominant genetic traits were indeed often passed from parent to offspring. In such cases, physicians from the mid-1930s on took it upon themselves to present such evidence to parents and suggest the outcome of carrying a pregnancy to term—but leave the ultimate decision to them. In the case of most other conditions, doctors began to conclude that genetic traits were, at best, only indices of a range of phenotypic presentations that were determined equally by environment—both external (what we would normally think of in the nature vs. nurture debate) and genetic (in terms of the chromosomal milieu that connected specific genes to each other).

Germany

It may surprise you to learn that the eugenics movement in Germany was not the sole creation of Hitler or the Nationalist Socialist regime. In fact, it officially began there earlier than in the United States, with the Society for Racial Hygiene coalescing in Berlin in 1905. Yet during its first two and a half decades of existence, the movement had trouble securing legitimacy and garnering a widespread following before the early 1930s. On July 14th, 1933, the Law for the Prevention of Progeny of Sufferers from Hereditary Disease was approved, and allowed (just like its American counterparts) for the sterilization of the feebleminded, schizophrenic, manic-depressive, epileptic, blind, and deaf, among a plethora of others. This law also set up the foundation for the emergence of the “eugenic courts” which oversaw all cases prosecuted by the state with the aim of involuntary sterilization. Relatively quickly, though not exclusively, eugenic sterilization morphed into the Holocaust. This is the defining feature of Nazi eugenics, and the principal way it differed from American eugenics. Both were perpetrated by medical practitioners, and grew from the notion that a portion of the population should be excised for the good of the gene pool. In Germany, as we will see, they just took it to the next logical step and eliminated the “unfit” instead of just sterilizing them.

Generally in looking at Hadamar, Treblinka, and Auschwitz, historians of eugenics in Germany have argued that physicians in Nazi Germany who killed were, just like any other professional, primarily motivated by a desire to raise their income, advance their careers, and benefit from the social advancement that came with participating in an ideological framework which placed them at the top of the food chain. The Nazi eugenic program was directed by the Chancellery of the Fuhrer in conjunction with the Health Department of the Reich Ministry of the Interior. In other words—it enjoyed a far more centralized, codified, and unified apparatus and voice. It came in two flavors: the euthanizing and sterilization of the disabled and terminally ill in hospitals by primarily physicians and medical practitioners, and the mass murder in the concentration camps by Nazi officers under the direction and advisement of physicians and medical practitioners.

Killing Wards: Doctors (both the newly licensed and the old), nurses, and aides all participated in this killing program. From 26 cities across Germany, caravans of the disabled and unwanted arrived at such hospitals, usually at night. Patients were not always killed outright; in fact, many of the T4 sites used more indirect (though no less fatal) methods of killing. For instance, doctors there made extensive use of the sedatives luminal and veronal, which if given in sufficient doses caused pneumonia and death within two to three days. At the same time, children 1-5 years old were murdered by way of slowly reducing their caloric intake until, over the course of several days, they starved to death. After 1941, Hitler ordered this process, which was initially centralized, altered as publicity and propaganda campaigns began to reveal the scope and mechanisms of the T4 killings. Hitler ordered the practices slightly changed and the hospitals decentralized to the countryside to avoid further publicity, and thereafter the T4 killings were characterized by a “wild euthanasia” which saw individual medical practitioners decide who lived and died with much less oversight and much more arbitrariness than before. The troublesome, irritating, sexually prolific, indigent and ill were all killed with equal equanimity.

T4 Centers and Concentration Camps: Notable names: Friedrich Mennecke (Eichberg), Imfried Eberl (Treblinka), Friedrich Entress (Auschwitz). Beginning as a location for the killing of disabled adults, the T4 killings (marked by designation 14f13) were expanded beginning in the winter of 1939-40 and beginning in late 1941 what would come to be known as the concentration camp genocide. Physicians and medical practitioners played a critical role in these activities. Some physicians (in fact, 7% of all physicians in Germany during the era, far above any other professional group) served in the SS in the camps themselves and made preliminary “special selections” that were then confirmed by other doctors after. Doctors inspected the forms of incoming unwanteds, made camp selections, oversaw the dispersal of gas, pronounced the death of those murdered, and subsequently wrote their death certificates. At the same time, 33% of all physicians were members of the Nazi Physicians League, the Nationalist Socialist arm which targeted doctors as part of its ideological agenda. 45% were members of the Nazi Party itself. This is compared to 25% for lawyers and 24% for teachers. Methods used included Zyklon B, and phenol injections to the heart

What did they get out of this? Physicians and medical practitioners enjoyed a myriad of benefits. They were named institutional director of regional hospitals; oversaw extensive and well-funded research programs (the most well-known is certainly Mengele, the most eugenically minded of these) which conducted experiments on the disabled and abled alike, as well as the old, the young, and twins; enjoyed the social status and increased pay of their position.

Concluding thoughts

From the point of view of the individual transported for sterilization, Germany and the United States in many respects would have looked very similar. Sterilization (or termination) would have been submitted or recommended by someone with medical experience. The sterilization (or euthanizing) procedure would have been approved by a doctor, or a group of doctors (the Board of Mental Health, for instance, in Kansas).  It would have been carried out by a doctor. Were American and Nazi eugenics exactly the same? Nope. They had different intellectual, sociocultural, and ideological roots. They happened under different auspices. But to the individual placed on the sterilizing (or killing) table, it didn’t matter. As historians who frequently get bound up in the larger questions driving historical inquiry, we’d do well to remember that.

The tl;dr version of this discussion is this: Doctors in the United States and Nazi Germany were absolutely crucial to the popularization and implementation of eugenic practices which stole bodily liberty from tens of thousands of people. But whereas in Germany these practices were sanctioned and directed by a more or less central state apparatus (encouraging dissenters to shut up or get out), in the United States there remained no unified federal control and no central voice or dogma, and so disagreement was allowed to propagate such that the public and professional winds of opinion changed by 1945. For the individuals sterilized, it didn’t matter though. They were getting sterilized in the name of some greater good either way.