This article advances a method developed by a historian and a mechanical engineer to learn about premodern amputees. Using a sixteenth-century iron hand from Germany as a foundational case study, the authors illustrate four components of an experimental approach for investigating fragile artifacts of prostheses. First, they present the creation of historically contextualized activities of daily living (ADLs), a concept used in modern prosthesis usability assessments. Second, the authors address the use of computer-aided design (CAD) and 3D printing technology to develop models of artifacts collaboratively. Next, they explain the significance of engaging with external interlocutors with crucial perspectives on disability advocacy and inclusivity. Finally, the authors suggest how to design experiments with ADLs to test 3D-printed models. Together, these components create a physical object and material encounters that can push exploration of prosthetic artifacts-one of the few direct sources of premodern amputees' lived experience-into a new frontier of research.
Founded in 1965 during the War on Poverty, the Community Health Center (CHC) program was created to meet the health needs of poor Americans while employing patients in clinic oversight and operations. This study explores the historical roots and implications of community participation in health care. The paper focuses on the foundational years of the CHC program, with attention to the establishment of the Tufts-Delta Health Center (TDHC) in Mound Bayou, Mississippi, and the struggles to realize community control in a clinical context. The analysis reveals the tensions between outsider activists, local elites, and impoverished community members over CHC governance, reflecting broader conflicts over community participation in health care. By scrutinizing the practical and ideological conflicts at TDHC, this essay illuminates the promises and limitations of federal grassroots health initiatives and underscores the complexities of genuine patient authority in health care delivery.
This positioning paper surveys recent historical scholarship on objects and material culture relating to health and medicine. Analyzing scholarship under four main themes-professional medicine; everyday health; spaces, places, and environments; and consumption, globalism, and colonialism-the paper demonstrates the vibrancy and breadth of the field; it outlines how scholarship across these themes has viewed a wide range of objects and forms of materiality as not only integral to medical knowledge and health practices in the past but has often uncovered alternative, subversive, and multiple ways of knowing and doing that are inaccessible by the written word alone. The paper ends by providing possible future directions for scholars keen to further explore the role of materiality in medical knowledge making and practice. In particular, it suggests how scholars might fruitfully expand the material categories they work with, adopt "material time" and include more critical self-awareness in their research.
In 1965, a public health nurse established a community-based maternal and child health center in a predominantly low-income Black neighborhood in Detroit. Funded by the Office of Economic Opportunity and administered by the Visiting Nurses Association, the Mom and Tots Neighborhood Center was staffed by community members and established to serve the needs of the community as identified by the community. This article analyzes the different meanings the center held for the women who staffed the center, the clinicians who provided care, and the community members it served during the turbulent years of the late 1960s. It highlights the entangled politics of community health provision, whereby efforts to increase health services to low-income Black women confronted the race, gender, and class biases of clinicians, administrators, and politicians. These politics reflect the contested status of community health centers and the value placed on the health of the patients they served.
In 1977, self-proclaimed cancer doctor Milan Brych set up a clinic in the Cook Islands offering to cure 80 percent of terminal patients. Patients from Australia and New Zealand flew to Rarotonga to have the $12,000 treatment. Most died within months and were buried in the Rarotonga cemetery, locally known as the "Brych Yard": Brych had not discovered a cure for cancer but was a quack and con man. This article looks at this notable case of cancer quackery and examines the associations that facilitated Brych's activities. It argues that, given the late twentieth-century context of an established, influential medical profession well-policed by government regulation, the web of interests that facilitated Brych's activities was critical in enabling him to achieve the scope and influence that he did. Both modern quackery and its brethren misinformation can be considered as an activity of an interlinked network of diverse, but complementary, interests.
This special issue explores the opportunities and challenges of using photographs to write histories of health and healing in colonial and postcolonial Africa. Since the late nineteenth-century introduction of photographic technology to Africa, it has been employed in a myriad of manners and settings related to health. Yet while photographs abound in medical histories of Africa-typically as provocative yet unexplored cover photos or illustrations-historians of health and healing in Africa have not systematically utilized photographs as historical sources that augment or contest analyses based on written sources. This special issue introduction proposes a set of tools that establish the intersection of visual, medical and African history as a productive analytic: (1) confronting the fiction of photographic transparency through contextualization, (2) close viewing of and ethical engagement with images, and (3) centering the fictions of photographic truth as historical subjects in themselves. These tools are demonstrated with reference to the contributions in the special issue, dealing, variously, with colonial-era Kenya, Malawi, Mozambique, and South Africa.
The 1950s were a decade of remarkable advances in tuberculosis research globally, with Kenya emerging as a key site for developing new control and treatment regimens. Yet historical source material and consequently medical histories are largely silent on the context of anticolonial war in which this work took place. This article argues that disease control efforts in postwar Kenya must be examined in the context of the Mau Mau uprising and uses photographs to probe the intersection of politics and health. Examining photographs of late colonial TB control initiatives, it highlights the stark contrast between these images and the concurrent realities and imageries of Mau Mau. Produced in contexts of omnipresent violence and deep uncertainty about Kenya's future, these medical photographs were instruments of colonial power and Western hegemony. Even as they reproduced a generic developmentalist vision of medical knowledge production, the specificities of Kenya's late colonial struggle reverberate throughout these images.
From the earliest days of the Swiss Mission Romande's establishment in Southeast Africa at the end of the nineteenth century, photography, just becoming an accessible technology for the committed amateur, held a role in the everyday lives of missionaries. Patrick Harries has argued that Swiss missionaries' photographs of unfamiliar landscapes and cultural practices in this region "conserved and diffused the mixture of apprehension and excitement with which [they] viewed Africa." This paper takes up this claim to consider how photography and photographic ways of seeing mediated, and reflected shifts in, the specific ambivalence that missionaries felt toward the role of medicine in evangelistic work and the establishment of the mission within this region. The author suggests that by capturing African audiences in photographs, missionaries aimed to communicate the value of the "medical mission" for the real and imagined European audiences of those photographs.
This article uses a close reading of clinical photographs to demonstrate how ambiguities surrounding the ostensibly scopic nature of race-that is, race as both conspicuous and measurable based on surface appearance-functioned in the medical terrain in segregationist South Africa, and beyond. By analyzing both archival and published materials produced and used during the mid-twentieth century at Cape Town's medical school, the author argues that race operated as an "elusive signifier" in that it was simultaneously conspicuous and elided in visual and written form. As such, the material was legible to local South African audiences, situated within a context of increasingly explicit racial segregation, but also able to circulate across the globe as universal medical knowledge. The author shows how the coterminous presence and absence of race aligned with sociopolitical tensions, scientific attitudes, "commonsense" assumptions, and the international aspirations of local medical professionals in the Cape region.
This article examines the specific uses and meanings of medical photographs depicting skin color variation produced by Dr. Hugh Stannus Stannus in early twentieth-century colonial Malawi. The sociopolitical environments in which the images were produced and interpreted rendered Black bodies as objects of medical inquiry, and the images stood as evidence for a range of racialized scientific ideas. This article advocates for an analysis of historic photographs such as these that attends to their historic functions, the visceral responses they evoke for the contemporary viewer, as well as the afterlives of the medical images. This leads to new understandings of the relationships between race, colonialism, and medicine in past and present perspectives, including "new ways of seeing" that emerge following rereading of Stannus's photographs with contemporary concerns. This, in turn, raises questions of how we can ethically study the past and develop approaches of looking at historic images in ways that are sensitive to the violence enacted on the bodies of the colonized.
