Despite decades of scholarship in the history of science attentive to the global circulation of knowledge, the geographic center of prevailing genealogies of the history of science remains grounded in Western Europe, the alleged birthplace of the Scientific Revolution, and to tales of progress. In this roundtable plenary, we invite panelists and the audience to collectively think together how the history of science and its genealogy might look different if we began, not from stories of progress and success, but from places of violence. How might attention to regimes of knowledge and the extraction and exploitation of laboring bodies and resources, from the silver mines of Potosí to the slave plantations of the Caribbean, from sites of colonial conquest to the modern theater of war, reshape narratives of the history of science? This panel invites us to attend to structures of power and knowledge embedded in imperial and capitalist formations, as well as the enduring layers of violence that persist and in which Western science has been complicit. Building from these starting points, how might such alternative narratives not just focus on violence, but create openings for different perspectives, voices, and potential futures? If we do not shirk from the difficult violent past and present of knowledge making, what other futures become possible?
Co-Organized by Gregg Mitman (University of Wisconsin-Madison) and Michelle Murphy (University of Toronto)
Academic conferences and events are routinely held on land that is essential to the identity and worldview of Indigenous groups that have been displaced by colonization. Often these lands were taken under unjust and violent circumstances.These histories, including the devastating effects that forced relocation continues to have on native communities, are left out of dominant narratives.
Indigenous land acknowledgements—the practice of recognizing Indigenous communities’ ancestral ties to the land on which a meeting or event is taking place—are one small but tangible way institutions can begin repairing the harm caused by mainstream historical accounts, which have excluded Indigenous voices. The Seattle-area is home to six nations: the Duwamish, Muckleshoot, Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Suquamish, and Tulalip peoples.
In accordance with the recommendations of an ad hoc committee on land acknowledgement formed during the 2017 Meeting in Toronto, this year Chairwoman Cecile Hansen from the Duwamish nation will open the conference at our Plenary Session. This ceremony is intended to provide an official welcome for all Meeting activities. Should your session or business meeting also wish to include a land acknowledgement, a sample statement can be found below.
We see this as a small step toward acknowledgement of the harm caused by centuries of misrepresentation, violence, and denial of Indigenous peoples’ right to tell their own histories. It is essential that these efforts be accompanied by broader concrete initiatives for inclusion, diversity, and justice in and by our association, some of which are already underway.
The History of Science Society can be a particularly important space in which to challenge the invisibilization of Native peoples. Historically, members of scientific fields collected Indigenous artifacts, biological material, and intangible cultural heritage motivated by the belief that Indigenous cultures would soon disappear. Further, these collections were used to judge and hierarchically organize the cultures represented by these objects. Scientists, policy-makers, and laypeople used the conclusions drawn from such studies to justify violence against entire groups of people, including Indigenous communities. Historians of science are well positioned to highlight these histories and challenge the ongoing privileging of knowledge of western trained scientists and collectors. To do so, our majority non-Native society must engage Native scholars and communities and become a space where Native historians of science feel welcome and supported.
More information on land acknowledgement, organizations that promote the practice, and the resources the ad hoc committee consulted can be found on the HSS website [hyperlink to page]. Additionally, the committee welcomes questions, comments, and proposals for practices for future HSS meetings by email at hss.land.acknowledgment@gmail.com.
If you would like to include a territorial acknowledgment during your session or caucus business meeting this year, here are a few things to consider. We begin by noting that the Indigenous peoples of the Seattle area have distinct histories and diverse cultural and social practices. Spend some time learning about these histories, including from the resources listed on the HSS website. A territorial acknowledgement is an opportunity to reflect on personal, professional, and community responsibilities towards the peoples upon whose land we meet. Here is an example of a possible text: ‘I would like to begin by acknowledging that we are meeting on the historic and contemporary lands of the Tulalip, Snohomish, Suquamish, Snoqualmie, Muckleshoot, and Duwamish nations and other Coast Salish peoples who call the waters and coastline of the Salish Sea home.” We encourage you to consider how you might personalize this acknowledgement and what concrete actions you feel called to take.
As you explore Seattle, you’ll see numerous monuments and civic gestures to the city’s Native heritage. While these rightfully implicate tremendous Indigenous influence in the early days of colonization—a recognition that comes on the heel of decades of Native activism—they also co-exist with violent marginalization.
Prior to the arrival of settler colonists, the area currently called Seattle was known as Sdzidzilalitch (Little Crossing-Over-Place). Members of Coast Salish nations began witnessing the arrival of whites interested in land and wealth in the mid-nineteenth century. The emergence of Seattle unfolded slowly through a series of encounters and exchanges between settlers and Indigenous people, whose knowledge and labor shaped Seattle from its “village period” through the 1870s. By the late nineteenth century, those same encounters were marked by widespread disease and wrenching transformations to the landscape. During the Progressive Era, a contingent of Indigenous peoples resisted federal attempts at relocation and, despite enduring oppressive socioeconomic policies, some remained in Seattle. Native migrants also came to the city for seasonal employment and contributed to a brimming Indigenous urban community. Many Indigenous residents who remained moved within Seattle’s underclass, living in working-class neighborhoods and frequenting social institutions on Skid Road.
Beginning in the postwar decades, organizations such as the American Indian Service League and community leaders like Ella Aquino and Bernie Whitebear led calls for better living conditions for Indigenous residents of Seattle—both new and old. Native activism centered on socioeconomic issues and the multiethnic Indian community’s place in the city. The fish-ins of the 1970s, for example, were a means of regaining Indigenous rights to Seattle’s fisheries and waterways. Many of these groups continue to exert authority over Indigenous rights in the city and undermine colonial narratives of Seattle’s founding. Across the past century, white residents pushed Indigenous peoples to the hinterlands at the same time as they appropriated native cultures, traditions, and wares as status symbols. But these and other broader civic gestures to Indigenous heritage, manufactured and marketed largely in favor of an imperial narrative of extinction, obscure a longer, entangled history of presence.
Despite decades of scholarship in the history of science attentive to the global circulation of knowledge, the geographic center of prevailing genealogies of the history of science remains grounded in Western Europe, the alleged birthplace of the Scientific Revolution, and to tales of progress. In this roundtable plenary, we invite panelists and the audience to collectively think together how the history of science and its genealogy might look different if we began, not from stories of progress and success, but from places of violence. How might attention to regimes of knowledge and the extraction and exploitation of laboring bodies and resources, from the silver mines of Potosí to the slave plantations of the Caribbean, from sites of colonial conquest to the modern theater of war, reshape narratives of the history of science? This panel invites us to attend to structures of power and knowledge embedded in imperial and capitalist formations, as well as the enduring layers of violence that persist and in which Western science has been complicit. Building from these starting points, how might such alternative narratives not just focus on violence, but create openings for different perspectives, voices, and potential futures? If we do not shirk from the difficult violent past and present of knowledge making, what other futures become possible?
Co-Organized by Gregg Mitman (University of Wisconsin-Madison) and Michelle Murphy (University of Toronto)
Academic conferences and events are routinely held on land that is essential to the identity and worldview of Indigenous groups that have been displaced by colonization. Oft ...
Willow, Second Floor History of Science Society 2018 meeting@hssonline.orgTechnical Issues?
If you're experiencing playback problems, try adjusting the quality or refreshing the page.
Questions for Speakers?
Use the Q&A tab to submit questions that may be addressed in follow-up sessions.
