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Chronometric dynamite. Bones and fossils between temporal disruption and epistemological dis:connection

sina steglich
No subject has lately excited more curiosity and general interest among geologists and the public than the question of the Antiquity of the Human Race, —whether or no  we have sufficient evidence in caves, or in the superficial deposits commonly called drift or ‘diluvium’, to prove former co-existence of man with certain extinct mammalia.[1]
With these words, British geologist Charles Lyell (1797–1875) began his book The Antiquity of Man in 1863. Looking for the antiquity of man, Lyell was interested in the origins of human life on Earth. The problem had become increasingly urgent for him and his contemporaries since the discovery of human and non-human remains in caves and rock strata. Scientific discoveries and attempts to date and interpret them were coming into competition and conflict with the answers that Christian cosmology had long taken for granted. New origin stories had to respond to these findings.

Origin stories…

Origin stories are human coping mechanisms. Not only dating origins but also narrating them and thereby imbuing them with meaning are effective remedies against the overwhelming implacability of contingency. Those who sought to tame chance could always fall back on meaning through origin. In Judeo-Christian cosmology, this origin story is Genesis. Elaborated in the Old Testament with kinship relations, the age of the world and of humanity could be traced back genealogically to the progenitors Adam and Eve. According to the calculations of the Irish archbishop James Ussher (1581–1656), Creation could be dated to 23 October 4004 B.C. This ‘Ussher chronology’ relied solely on biblical passages, substantiating their validity with regard to Genesis as the record of Creation. But this cosmology began crack when one considered the world beyond scripture and the evidence of observation. What if the world itself were to object to the narrative of its own origins?

… as Thanatos stories

This is precisely what happened to the early geologists of the 18th century, who interpreted rock layers as chronologically stratified sedimentary deposits and, through their calculations, not only pushed back the age of the Earth but also applied entirely different time scales from those suggested by the Bible. As a result, the roughly 6000 years of the Christian narrative were no longer sufficient, so this cosmology required correction. The discovery of older fossils and bones was no less than a temporal disruption of the Christian chronological order.[2] Beyond the question of origins, the more important issue, however, was that these rock layers contained evidence pointing to prior life. Prior life, that is, not pertaining to individuals but to the entire species. And that, in turn, was the real challenge for anyone raised in the Christian faith: death could not be conceived of solely in individual terms, but had to be applied to entire species in the form of extinction. Fossils pointed to a history of death and told not stories of life, but stories of death.[3] The  problem cut far deeper than merely dating: how could the extinction of species be reconciled with the Christian conception of Creation, in which everything was already in place and which, at most, was perpetually approaching perfection.

Expanding scales, shifting grounds

This problem bore twin children. First, this challenge intensified the more precisely geologists and palaeontologists defined Earth’s geological and biological history through their dating of rocks, fossils and bones. The constant correction and extension of the scales not only pushed back the assumed origin ever further back into the past but also required an ever finer division of time into geological periods and epochs.

Earth strata according to Charles Lyell, The Geological Evidences, 7.

Such a provisionally defined origin, once set in motion and continuously adjusted, could hardly provide any relief. It was not a reliable foundation, but a shifting ground. Second, an abundance of empirical evidence, including relics of prior life that no longer had any surviving counterpart, constituted proof of the unthinkable: God gave life to creatures only to let them die out. This increasingly challenged the idea of perfectibility and thereby undermined a cosmology derived from the Bible or intended to be reconciled with it. But once discovered, the fossils and bones of extinct species remained in the world. They could not be denied as material evidence.[4] Consequently, it was not enough to merely extend the age of the world and adjust the geological time scale. Rather, Christian cosmology needed a narrative that took these findings into account.

Various forms of mechanism to strengthen ammonites, according to Buckland, The Bridgewater Treatises on the Power Wisdom and Goodness of God as Manifested in Creation. Treatise VI, Vol. II: Geology and Mineralogy considered with Reference to Natural Theology, (London: William Pickering), plate 37.

(Missing) evidence: marginalisation strategies

One strategy was offered by the Scottish Catholic theologian Alexander Geddes (1737–1802) who explained in the preface to his Bible translation in a manner that was as pragmatic as it was explosive: ‘The writer does not amuse or tire his reader with long metaphysical discussions, about the nature of the universe, the generation of matter, cause and effect, time and eternity, and other such subtile and insolvable questions’, only to state, without further ado, that the ‘planet, called Earth, [may] have rolled in its little orbit for millions and millions of years; and have undergone […] millions of revolutions; before it was made the habitation of man’.[5] First, he refused to engage with the discussion of the origin of the world by framing it as an unsolvable problem, only to go on to admit that, in any case, one must assume it was several million years old and that humans had arrived and settled there only later. This theory did not quite fit with Genesis, a translation of which followed on the subsequent pages. Although this was an inconsistent and provocative twist, Geddes had taken a stance on the contemporary debates and responded to them. He attempted to integrate the issue while simultaneously marginalising it. Some years later, the German naturalist and physician Gotthilf Heinrich Schubert (1780–1860) stumbled across the same problem and came up with his own marginalisation. In his work Views from the Dark Side of Science (Ansichten von der Nachtseite der Naturwissenschaft, 1808), he tried to reconcile the fossils with the parallel existence of human life: ‘But even if there were […] no human remains to be found at all, that would still not be sufficient to prove that there were none at all at that time’.[6] His explanation for the lack of physical remains of humans was simple, yet difficult to refute: ‘In addition to this, the greater fragility of the human body — a quality that distinguishes humans from all larger animals — may also have prevented the remains of those ancient peoples from being discovered by later explorers’.[7] He considered them as more ephemeral and reversed the burden of proof: not missing testimonies were proof of the non-existence of man, rather their existence had to be assumed because the opposite could not be verified. Seen this way, the narrative of the Bible could hold true, because fossils and other creatures’ bones simply did not reveal the entire past.[8] Fossils and bones required that Creation be redated, but man could have been there from the very beginning. For the time being, Genesis was rescued.

From new narratives to new epistemologies: separating history from its ‘pre-'

But these strategies never solved the conundrum because they only concealed the underlying questions and were unable to resolve the epistemological core of the problem: the contradiction between Christian concepts of time and material evidence provided. Eyewitness accounts remained in conflict with faith. And faith was thus shaken. New narratives based on a different interpretation of the findings were therefore necessary cope. One such a strategy was separating human history from the history of the Earth. In the course of ‘inventing’ prehistory, sources from the past were strictly divided into those of human origin, namely, written records and ‘natural’ ones.[9] Thus, the understanding of the general historicity (of man) became disconnected from that of the Earth and all things natural.

August Ludwig von Schlözer limiting history to planet Earth and ‘recorded events’ by excluding the ‘archives of Saturn and Sirius’. von Schlözer, Vorstellung seiner Universal-Historie, (Göttingen: Johann Christian Dietrich).

This separation was further solidified as a disciplinary distinction in the course of professionalisation and scientification during the 19th century. From then on, there was the history without a prefix, exclusively referring to humans who left written traces, and many siblings with prefixes, such as ‘natural-‘, ‘pre-‘ and ‘early-‘.[10] The latter was the province of research into bones, fossils, cave paintings and archaeological finds, which were not to be read but excavated. This disciplinary distinction based on source types mitigated the temporal disruption. In this interpretation, humans were no longer de-centred as latecomers by the fossils; rather, the exact opposite occurred: the fossils were excluded as prehistory from ‘proper’ history and relegated to a preliminary phase. However, effacing the temporal disruption gave rise to an epistemological disconnection, producing immense path dependencies.[11] For by restricting history to written history, it diachronically excluded everything that came before, for which there was no written record, and synchronically everything beyond the world of the written word, especially in regions beyond Europe and its expanding colonial spheres of influence. Our current effort to break up and diversify the monolith of history and to incorporate sources other than written records, such as oral history and material culture, into our understanding of the past is also a consequence of the disciplinary specialisation that necessarily resulted from the confrontation with fossils and bones around 1800 and the expanded timescales they required. Fossils and bones are chronometric dynamite first because they disrupted the Christian temporal order, which was bleeding plausibility. In a more fundamental sense, their evidence lit the fuse that eventually blasted the fissure between written history and its marginalised preliminary stages. As a result, anything that did not conform to this exclusive understanding of history was excluded from historical time. Africa as the continent without history is the most prominent stereotype of this epistemological closure. Engaging with these early geologists’, palaeontologists’, theologians’ and historians’ attempts to make sense of excavated traces of past lives, therefore, is not only of interest to historians of science. Every historian would do well to reflect on the fundamentals of the discipline and see its epistemological constraints not only as a Eurocentristic pitfall to be criticised and rejected, but as a coping mechanism of our disciplinary predecessors around 1800. Historicising this mechanism as a breach in modern historiography could initiate a deeper discussion of the discipline’s own stories of origin.[12]   [1] Charles Lyell, The Geological Evidences of the Antiquity of Man with Remarks on Theories of the Origin of Species by Variation (London: John Murray, 1863), 1. [2] See Peter J. Bowler, Fossils and Progress: Paleontology and the Idea of Progressive Evolution in the Nineteenth Century (New York: Science History Publications, 1976); Martin J. S. Rudwick, The Meaning of Fossils: Episodes in the History of Paleontology (New York: Science History Publications, 1976). [3] On Thanatos (hi)stories, see Peter Schnyder, 'Paläopoetologie. Zur Emergenz der Urgeschichte des Lebens', in Die biologische Vorgeschichte des Menschen. Zu einem Schnittpunkt von Erzählordnung und Wissensformation, ed. Johannes Lehmann, Roland Borgards, and Maximilian Bergengruen (Freiburg: Rombach, 2012), 119. [4] See David Schulz, Die Natur der Geschichte: Die Entdeckung der geologischen Tiefenzeit und die Geschichtskonzeptionen zwischen Aufklärung und Moderne (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2020), 58. [5] Alexander Geddes, The Holy Bible, or the Books Accounted Sacred by Jews and Christians; otherwise Called the Books oft he Old and New Convenants: Faithfully Translated from Corrected Texts oft he Originals. With Various Readings, Explanatory Notes and Critical Remarks. Vol. I. (London: J. Davis, 1792), ii. Emphasis in original. [6] Gotthilf Heinrich Schubert, Ansichten von der Nachtseite der Naturwissenschaft (Dresden: Arnold, 1808), 214. Author’s translation. [7] Schubert, Ansichten von der Nachtseite. [8] See Lena Kugler, 'Staub und Steine. Organische Überreste und die Tiefenzeit moderner Flüchtig- und Vergänglichkeit', in Flüchtigkeit der Moderne. Eigenzeiten des Ephemeren im langen 19. Jahrhundert, ed. Michael Bies, Sean Franzel, and Dirk Oschmann (Hannover: Wehrhahn, 2017). [9] See Stefanos Geroulanos, The Invention of Prehistory: Empire, Violence, and Our Obsession with Human Origins (New York: Liveright, 2024). [10] See Sina Steglich, 'Vom Ausgang der Erde aus der Welt des Menschen. Oder: Wie das "Prä-" vor die Geschichte kam', Kulturwissenschaftliche Zeitschrift Sonderheft 5 (2022) https://doi.org/10.2478/kwg-2022-0003. https://doi.org/10.2478/kwg-2022-0003; Martin Deuerlein, Johannes Großmann and Mira Shah, 'Unsichere Urgeschichte. Fragiles Wissen und die Hervorbringung der 'Tiefenzeit'', Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht 76, no. 1-2 (2025). [11] See David Černin, 'Epistemic and ontological divide between human history and prehistory', in The Bloomsbury Handbook of the Philosophy of the Historical Sciences and Big History, ed. Aviezer Tucker and David Černin (London: Bloomsbury, 2025). [12] See Marianne Sommer, 'Experimenting with Bones', in Narrating Life – Experiments with Human and Animal Bodies in Literature, Science and Art, ed. Stefan Herbrechter and Elisabeth Friis (Boston: Brill, 2016).
bibliography
Bowler, Peter J. Fossils and Progress: Paleontology and the Idea of Progressive Evolution in the Nineteenth Century. New York: Science History Publications, 1976. Buckland, William. The Bridgewater Treatises on the Power Wisdom and Goodness of God as Manifested in Creation. Treatise VI, Vol. II: Geology and Mineralogy considered with Reference to Natural Theology. London: William Pickering, 1837. Černin, David. 'Epistemic and ontological divide between human history and prehistory'. In The Bloomsbury Handbook of the Philosophy of the Historical Sciences and Big History, edited by Aviezer Tucker and David Černin,  London: Bloomsbury, 2025. Deuerlein, Martin, Johannes Großmann and Mira Shah. 'Unsichere Urgeschichte. Fragiles Wissen und die Hervorbringung der 'Tiefenzeit''. Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht 76, no. 1-2 (2025): 5-10. Geddes, Alexander. The Holy Bible, or the Books Accounted Sacred by Jews and Christians; otherwise Called the Books oft he Old and New Convenants: Faithfully Translated from Corrected Texts oft he Originals. With Various Readings, Explanatory Notes and Critical Remarks. Vol. I. London: J. Davis, 1792. Geroulanos, Stefanos. The Invention of Prehistory: Empire, Violence, and Our Obsession with Human Origins. New York: Liveright, 2024. Kugler, Lena. 'Staub und Steine. Organische Überreste und die Tiefenzeit moderner Flüchtig- und Vergänglichkeit'. In Flüchtigkeit der Moderne. Eigenzeiten des Ephemeren im langen 19. Jahrhundert, edited by Michael Bies, Sean Franzel and Dirk Oschmann,  Hannover: Wehrhahn, 2017. Lyell, Charles. The Geological Evidences of the Antiquity of Man with Remarks on Theories of the Origin of Species by Variation. London: John Murray, 1863. Rudwick, Martin J. S. The Meaning of Fossils: Episodes in the History of Paleontology. New York: Science History Publications, 1976. Schnyder, Peter. 'Paläopoetologie. Zur Emergenz der Urgeschichte des Lebens'. In Die biologische Vorgeschichte des Menschen. Zu einem Schnittpunkt von Erzählordnung und Wissensformation, edited by Johannes Lehmann, Roland Borgards and Maximilian Bergengruen,  Freiburg: Rombach, 2012. Schubert, Gotthilf Heinrich. Ansichten von der Nachtseite der Naturwissenschaft. Dresden: Arnold, 1808. Schulz, David. Die Natur der Geschichte: Die Entdeckung der geologischen Tiefenzeit und die Geschichtskonzeptionen zwischen Aufklärung und Moderne. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2020. Sommer, Marianne. 'Experimenting with Bones'. In Narrating Life – Experiments with Human and Animal Bodies in Literature, Science and Art, edited by Stefan Herbrechter and Elisabeth Friis,  Boston: Brill, 2016. Steglich, Sina. 'Vom Ausgang der Erde aus der Welt des Menschen. Oder: Wie das "Prä-" vor die Geschichte kam'. Kulturwissenschaftliche Zeitschrift Sonderheft 5 (2022): 26-38. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.2478/kwg-2022-0003. von Schlözer, August Ludwig. Vorstellung seiner Universal-Historie. Göttingen: Johann Christian Dietrich, 1772. Continue Reading

Chronometric dynamite. Bones and fossils between temporal disruption and epistemological dis:connection

[Editor's note: this is the third entry in our series on temporalities. Find the introduction here and the previous post here.]
sina steglich
No subject has lately excited more curiosity and general interest among geologists and the public than the question of the Antiquity of the Human Race, —whether or no  we have sufficient evidence in caves, or in the superficial deposits commonly called drift or ‘diluvium’, to prove former co-existence of man with certain extinct mammalia.[1]
With these words, British geologist Charles Lyell (1797–1875) began his book The Antiquity of Man in 1863. Looking for the antiquity of man, Lyell was interested in the origins of human life on Earth. The problem had become increasingly urgent for him and his contemporaries since the discovery of human and non-human remains in caves and rock strata. Scientific discoveries and attempts to date and interpret them were coming into competition and conflict with the answers that Christian cosmology had long taken for granted. New origin stories had to respond to these findings.

Origin stories…

Origin stories are human coping mechanisms. Not only dating origins but also narrating them and thereby imbuing them with meaning are effective remedies against the overwhelming implacability of contingency. Those who sought to tame chance could always fall back on meaning through origin. In Judeo-Christian cosmology, this origin story is Genesis. Elaborated in the Old Testament with kinship relations, the age of the world and of humanity could be traced back genealogically to the progenitors Adam and Eve. According to the calculations of the Irish archbishop James Ussher (1581–1656), Creation could be dated to 23 October 4004 B.C. This ‘Ussher chronology’ relied solely on biblical passages, substantiating their validity with regard to Genesis as the record of Creation. But this cosmology began crack when one considered the world beyond scripture and the evidence of observation. What if the world itself were to object to the narrative of its own origins?

… as Thanatos stories

This is precisely what happened to the early geologists of the 18th century, who interpreted rock layers as chronologically stratified sedimentary deposits and, through their calculations, not only pushed back the age of the Earth but also applied entirely different time scales from those suggested by the Bible. As a result, the roughly 6000 years of the Christian narrative were no longer sufficient, so this cosmology required correction. The discovery of older fossils and bones was no less than a temporal disruption of the Christian chronological order.[2] Beyond the question of origins, the more important issue, however, was that these rock layers contained evidence pointing to prior life. Prior life, that is, not pertaining to individuals but to the entire species. And that, in turn, was the real challenge for anyone raised in the Christian faith: death could not be conceived of solely in individual terms, but had to be applied to entire species in the form of extinction. Fossils pointed to a history of death and told not stories of life, but stories of death.[3] The  problem cut far deeper than merely dating: how could the extinction of species be reconciled with the Christian conception of Creation, in which everything was already in place and which, at most, was perpetually approaching perfection.

Expanding scales, shifting grounds

This problem bore twin children. First, this challenge intensified the more precisely geologists and palaeontologists defined Earth’s geological and biological history through their dating of rocks, fossils and bones. The constant correction and extension of the scales not only pushed back the assumed origin ever further back into the past but also required an ever finer division of time into geological periods and epochs.

Earth strata according to Charles Lyell, The Geological Evidences, 7.

Such a provisionally defined origin, once set in motion and continuously adjusted, could hardly provide any relief. It was not a reliable foundation, but a shifting ground. Second, an abundance of empirical evidence, including relics of prior life that no longer had any surviving counterpart, constituted proof of the unthinkable: God gave life to creatures only to let them die out. This increasingly challenged the idea of perfectibility and thereby undermined a cosmology derived from the Bible or intended to be reconciled with it. But once discovered, the fossils and bones of extinct species remained in the world. They could not be denied as material evidence.[4] Consequently, it was not enough to merely extend the age of the world and adjust the geological time scale. Rather, Christian cosmology needed a narrative that took these findings into account.

Various forms of mechanism to strengthen ammonites, according to Buckland, The Bridgewater Treatises on the Power Wisdom and Goodness of God as Manifested in Creation. Treatise VI, Vol. II: Geology and Mineralogy considered with Reference to Natural Theology, (London: William Pickering), plate 37.

(Missing) evidence: marginalisation strategies

One strategy was offered by the Scottish Catholic theologian Alexander Geddes (1737–1802) who explained in the preface to his Bible translation in a manner that was as pragmatic as it was explosive: ‘The writer does not amuse or tire his reader with long metaphysical discussions, about the nature of the universe, the generation of matter, cause and effect, time and eternity, and other such subtile and insolvable questions’, only to state, without further ado, that the ‘planet, called Earth, [may] have rolled in its little orbit for millions and millions of years; and have undergone […] millions of revolutions; before it was made the habitation of man’.[5] First, he refused to engage with the discussion of the origin of the world by framing it as an unsolvable problem, only to go on to admit that, in any case, one must assume it was several million years old and that humans had arrived and settled there only later. This theory did not quite fit with Genesis, a translation of which followed on the subsequent pages. Although this was an inconsistent and provocative twist, Geddes had taken a stance on the contemporary debates and responded to them. He attempted to integrate the issue while simultaneously marginalising it. Some years later, the German naturalist and physician Gotthilf Heinrich Schubert (1780–1860) stumbled across the same problem and came up with his own marginalisation. In his work Views from the Dark Side of Science (Ansichten von der Nachtseite der Naturwissenschaft, 1808), he tried to reconcile the fossils with the parallel existence of human life: ‘But even if there were […] no human remains to be found at all, that would still not be sufficient to prove that there were none at all at that time’.[6] His explanation for the lack of physical remains of humans was simple, yet difficult to refute: ‘In addition to this, the greater fragility of the human body — a quality that distinguishes humans from all larger animals — may also have prevented the remains of those ancient peoples from being discovered by later explorers’.[7] He considered them as more ephemeral and reversed the burden of proof: not missing testimonies were proof of the non-existence of man, rather their existence had to be assumed because the opposite could not be verified. Seen this way, the narrative of the Bible could hold true, because fossils and other creatures’ bones simply did not reveal the entire past.[8] Fossils and bones required that Creation be redated, but man could have been there from the very beginning. For the time being, Genesis was rescued.

From new narratives to new epistemologies: separating history from its ‘pre-'

But these strategies never solved the conundrum because they only concealed the underlying questions and were unable to resolve the epistemological core of the problem: the contradiction between Christian concepts of time and material evidence provided. Eyewitness accounts remained in conflict with faith. And faith was thus shaken. New narratives based on a different interpretation of the findings were therefore necessary cope. One such a strategy was separating human history from the history of the Earth. In the course of ‘inventing’ prehistory, sources from the past were strictly divided into those of human origin, namely, written records and ‘natural’ ones.[9] Thus, the understanding of the general historicity (of man) became disconnected from that of the Earth and all things natural.

August Ludwig von Schlözer limiting history to planet Earth and ‘recorded events’ by excluding the ‘archives of Saturn and Sirius’. von Schlözer, Vorstellung seiner Universal-Historie, (Göttingen: Johann Christian Dietrich).

This separation was further solidified as a disciplinary distinction in the course of professionalisation and scientification during the 19th century. From then on, there was the history without a prefix, exclusively referring to humans who left written traces, and many siblings with prefixes, such as ‘natural-‘, ‘pre-‘ and ‘early-‘.[10] The latter was the province of research into bones, fossils, cave paintings and archaeological finds, which were not to be read but excavated. This disciplinary distinction based on source types mitigated the temporal disruption. In this interpretation, humans were no longer de-centred as latecomers by the fossils; rather, the exact opposite occurred: the fossils were excluded as prehistory from ‘proper’ history and relegated to a preliminary phase. However, effacing the temporal disruption gave rise to an epistemological disconnection, producing immense path dependencies.[11] For by restricting history to written history, it diachronically excluded everything that came before, for which there was no written record, and synchronically everything beyond the world of the written word, especially in regions beyond Europe and its expanding colonial spheres of influence. Our current effort to break up and diversify the monolith of history and to incorporate sources other than written records, such as oral history and material culture, into our understanding of the past is also a consequence of the disciplinary specialisation that necessarily resulted from the confrontation with fossils and bones around 1800 and the expanded timescales they required. Fossils and bones are chronometric dynamite first because they disrupted the Christian temporal order, which was bleeding plausibility. In a more fundamental sense, their evidence lit the fuse that eventually blasted the fissure between written history and its marginalised preliminary stages. As a result, anything that did not conform to this exclusive understanding of history was excluded from historical time. Africa as the continent without history is the most prominent stereotype of this epistemological closure. Engaging with these early geologists’, palaeontologists’, theologians’ and historians’ attempts to make sense of excavated traces of past lives, therefore, is not only of interest to historians of science. Every historian would do well to reflect on the fundamentals of the discipline and see its epistemological constraints not only as a Eurocentristic pitfall to be criticised and rejected, but as a coping mechanism of our disciplinary predecessors around 1800. Historicising this mechanism as a breach in modern historiography could initiate a deeper discussion of the discipline’s own stories of origin.[12]   [1] Charles Lyell, The Geological Evidences of the Antiquity of Man with Remarks on Theories of the Origin of Species by Variation (London: John Murray, 1863), 1. [2] See Peter J. Bowler, Fossils and Progress: Paleontology and the Idea of Progressive Evolution in the Nineteenth Century (New York: Science History Publications, 1976); Martin J. S. Rudwick, The Meaning of Fossils: Episodes in the History of Paleontology (New York: Science History Publications, 1976). [3] On Thanatos (hi)stories, see Peter Schnyder, 'Paläopoetologie. Zur Emergenz der Urgeschichte des Lebens', in Die biologische Vorgeschichte des Menschen. Zu einem Schnittpunkt von Erzählordnung und Wissensformation, ed. Johannes Lehmann, Roland Borgards, and Maximilian Bergengruen (Freiburg: Rombach, 2012), 119. [4] See David Schulz, Die Natur der Geschichte: Die Entdeckung der geologischen Tiefenzeit und die Geschichtskonzeptionen zwischen Aufklärung und Moderne (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2020), 58. [5] Alexander Geddes, The Holy Bible, or the Books Accounted Sacred by Jews and Christians; otherwise Called the Books oft he Old and New Convenants: Faithfully Translated from Corrected Texts oft he Originals. With Various Readings, Explanatory Notes and Critical Remarks. Vol. I. (London: J. Davis, 1792), ii. Emphasis in original. [6] Gotthilf Heinrich Schubert, Ansichten von der Nachtseite der Naturwissenschaft (Dresden: Arnold, 1808), 214. Author’s translation. [7] Schubert, Ansichten von der Nachtseite. [8] See Lena Kugler, 'Staub und Steine. Organische Überreste und die Tiefenzeit moderner Flüchtig- und Vergänglichkeit', in Flüchtigkeit der Moderne. Eigenzeiten des Ephemeren im langen 19. Jahrhundert, ed. Michael Bies, Sean Franzel, and Dirk Oschmann (Hannover: Wehrhahn, 2017). [9] See Stefanos Geroulanos, The Invention of Prehistory: Empire, Violence, and Our Obsession with Human Origins (New York: Liveright, 2024). [10] See Sina Steglich, 'Vom Ausgang der Erde aus der Welt des Menschen. Oder: Wie das "Prä-" vor die Geschichte kam', Kulturwissenschaftliche Zeitschrift Sonderheft 5 (2022) https://doi.org/10.2478/kwg-2022-0003. https://doi.org/10.2478/kwg-2022-0003; Martin Deuerlein, Johannes Großmann and Mira Shah, 'Unsichere Urgeschichte. Fragiles Wissen und die Hervorbringung der 'Tiefenzeit'', Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht 76, no. 1-2 (2025). [11] See David Černin, 'Epistemic and ontological divide between human history and prehistory', in The Bloomsbury Handbook of the Philosophy of the Historical Sciences and Big History, ed. Aviezer Tucker and David Černin (London: Bloomsbury, 2025). [12] See Marianne Sommer, 'Experimenting with Bones', in Narrating Life – Experiments with Human and Animal Bodies in Literature, Science and Art, ed. Stefan Herbrechter and Elisabeth Friis (Boston: Brill, 2016).
bibliography
Bowler, Peter J. Fossils and Progress: Paleontology and the Idea of Progressive Evolution in the Nineteenth Century. New York: Science History Publications, 1976. Buckland, William. The Bridgewater Treatises on the Power Wisdom and Goodness of God as Manifested in Creation. Treatise VI, Vol. II: Geology and Mineralogy considered with Reference to Natural Theology. London: William Pickering, 1837. Černin, David. 'Epistemic and ontological divide between human history and prehistory'. In The Bloomsbury Handbook of the Philosophy of the Historical Sciences and Big History, edited by Aviezer Tucker and David Černin,  London: Bloomsbury, 2025. Deuerlein, Martin, Johannes Großmann and Mira Shah. 'Unsichere Urgeschichte. Fragiles Wissen und die Hervorbringung der 'Tiefenzeit''. Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht 76, no. 1-2 (2025): 5-10. Geddes, Alexander. The Holy Bible, or the Books Accounted Sacred by Jews and Christians; otherwise Called the Books oft he Old and New Convenants: Faithfully Translated from Corrected Texts oft he Originals. With Various Readings, Explanatory Notes and Critical Remarks. Vol. I. London: J. Davis, 1792. Geroulanos, Stefanos. The Invention of Prehistory: Empire, Violence, and Our Obsession with Human Origins. New York: Liveright, 2024. Kugler, Lena. 'Staub und Steine. Organische Überreste und die Tiefenzeit moderner Flüchtig- und Vergänglichkeit'. In Flüchtigkeit der Moderne. Eigenzeiten des Ephemeren im langen 19. Jahrhundert, edited by Michael Bies, Sean Franzel and Dirk Oschmann,  Hannover: Wehrhahn, 2017. Lyell, Charles. The Geological Evidences of the Antiquity of Man with Remarks on Theories of the Origin of Species by Variation. London: John Murray, 1863. Rudwick, Martin J. S. The Meaning of Fossils: Episodes in the History of Paleontology. New York: Science History Publications, 1976. Schnyder, Peter. 'Paläopoetologie. Zur Emergenz der Urgeschichte des Lebens'. In Die biologische Vorgeschichte des Menschen. Zu einem Schnittpunkt von Erzählordnung und Wissensformation, edited by Johannes Lehmann, Roland Borgards and Maximilian Bergengruen,  Freiburg: Rombach, 2012. Schubert, Gotthilf Heinrich. Ansichten von der Nachtseite der Naturwissenschaft. Dresden: Arnold, 1808. Schulz, David. Die Natur der Geschichte: Die Entdeckung der geologischen Tiefenzeit und die Geschichtskonzeptionen zwischen Aufklärung und Moderne. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2020. Sommer, Marianne. 'Experimenting with Bones'. In Narrating Life – Experiments with Human and Animal Bodies in Literature, Science and Art, edited by Stefan Herbrechter and Elisabeth Friis,  Boston: Brill, 2016. Steglich, Sina. 'Vom Ausgang der Erde aus der Welt des Menschen. Oder: Wie das "Prä-" vor die Geschichte kam'. Kulturwissenschaftliche Zeitschrift Sonderheft 5 (2022): 26-38. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.2478/kwg-2022-0003. von Schlözer, August Ludwig. Vorstellung seiner Universal-Historie. Göttingen: Johann Christian Dietrich, 1772. Continue Reading

New call for fellowships 2027/2028 now open!

Fellowships at the Käte Hamburger Research Centre global dis:connect for the academic year 2027/2028

  FELLOWSHIPS The Käte Hamburger Research Centre Dis:connectivity in processes of globalisation (global dis:connect) at Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität (LMU) Munich is an international research centre that brings together scholars and artists from different disciplines to investigate historical and contemporary forms of global connectivity and disconnection. The centre is funded by the German Federal Ministry of Research, Technology and Space (BMFTR). Applications are invited for fellowships of between 6 and 10 months for the academic year 2027/28. The centre explores the complex and interdependent relationships between global connections and disconnections, as well as processes of entanglement and disentanglement in both historical and contemporary contexts of globalisation. Bringing together international and transdisciplinary perspectives, global dis:connect provides a stimulating environment for collaborative research and intellectual exchange. We invite scholars from the humanities and social sciences to apply – especially, though not exclusively, from fields such as history, theatre studies and art history. The work of the fellows should have a clear connection to the general goals of the Käte Hamburger Research Centre and deal with at least one of its guiding topics.   PROPOSALS SHOULD ENGAGE… with the concept of dis:connectivity and how it speaks to the applicant’s project and field of research. Proposals should furthermore address one or more of the following themes:
  • …the significance of different forms of dis:connectivity such as interruptions, absences or detours
  • …laboratories of dis:connectivity in which the tensions between global connections and disconnections manifest themselves (e.g. islands, borders or encampments)
  • …cultural infrastructures and their dis:connective role in globalisation
  • …temporal dis:connectivities in the context of globalisation
  To find out more about the aims of the centre and its research foci, please visit the website at www.globaldisconnect.org.   PARTICIPATION IN AND CONTRIBUTION TO THE CENTRE During your time as a fellow at global dis:connect, you have to be released from your teaching and administrative duties at your home institution and concentrate on working on your research topic. Residence in Munich is required. You will actively participate in the events of the centre, such as the regular colloquia or the interdisciplinary reading group of the fellows, which play a central role in the exchange at the centre. You are also expected to communicate your research results on one of our publication platforms. Furthermore, there is the possibility to organise an international workshop in tandem with one or more other fellows on an overarching research topic during your stay. LMU Munich is one of the leading universities in Europe with a history of over 500 years. It stands for demanding academic education and outstanding research. The centre is centrally located in Munich and is very easy to reach by public transport. It is excellently networked with art and cultural institutions as well as academic institutions, both nationally and internationally. As a fellow at the centre, you will benefit from the many opportunities for interdisciplinary and international exchange, both with the invited researchers and with the artists in residence at the centre.   DURATION AND CONDITIONS Fellowships can be awarded for a period of at least 6 to a maximum of 10 months during which fellows do not have teaching and administrative obligations at their home institutions and will reside in Munich. A regular presence at the centre and active participation in its weekly events are mandatory. All fellowships commence on 1 October 2027. Please indicate the desired duration in your application. Fellowships are paid either as an individually calculated stipend, or, if a fellow decides to keep their current salary, through compensation for a teaching buy-out at the fellow’s home institution. Both options are capped by the regulations of the German Federal Ministry of Research, Technology and Space. In addition, the costs for the return journey (economy) to Munich will be reimbursed. A fully equipped workplace in a shared office is provided. Please note that the centre cannot cover living or accommodation costs beyond the compensations indicated above.   APPLICATION MODALITIES Applications are open to post-doctoral as well as senior researchers who have already distinguished themselves with outstanding work within the thematic focus of the centre. The application must include the application form (link see below), which also includes an abstract (max. 1.500 characters), a cover letter, curriculum vitae, list of publications, and an exposé (max. 5 pages), in which you present your research project in a clear and focused manner and elaborate on its relation to the Käte Hamburger Research Centre global dis:connect. An interdisciplinary outlook is advantageous. Please complete the application form online (www.globaldisconnect.org/application-form) and send all other documents digitally in one PDF-file to applications.gdc@lmu.de by 26 July 2026. Successful applicants will be notified by the end of October 2026.   CONTACT AND FURTHER INFORMATION For further information on the centre please consult our website at www.globaldisconnect.org and especially the subpage https://www.globaldisconnect.org/future-fellows/ or contact gdc@lmu.de. Additionally, we will offer two open consultation hours via Zoom on 17 June 2026 at 9am CET and 5pm CET. If interested, please sign up for the Zoom-link via this FORM until 31 May 2026.   Continue Reading

gd:c voices part II: virtuous epistemic circles

How does your research shape the focus, and how is it shaped by the focus?

SQ: Temporality is not just an aspect of my research; it is the central object of my inquiry. In my current postdoctoral project I use trees to examine how modern societies have understood, measured and imagined time and history. Trees preserve material traces of past climates and human interventions, and they often outlive the people who study, manage and exploit them. Because they embody multiple temporal scales – biological, environmental and historical – trees reveal much about modern ideas of temporality as a constitutive feature of modernity itself.

Tree rings reflect growth and age (Photo: Susanne Quitmann)

My research focuses on the emergence of dendrochronology — the science of analysing tree-rings — in the late 19th and early 20th centuries in the United States, Germany and Sweden. Rather than writing a disciplinary history of dendrochronology as a scientific field, however, I examine how humans’ interactions with trees shaped thinking about natural, historical and social time. I am especially interested in how scientific practices, environmental knowledge and material encounters with trees cast new temporal frameworks and scales.

Wood samples at the Arizona Laboratory of Tree-Tring Research (LTRR), University of Arizona—the birthplace of dendrochronology (Photograph used with permission of the Laboratory of Tree-Ring Research, University of Arizona)

Engaging with temporalities as a research focus here at gd:c has provided a conceptual framework for approaching this history and linking it to larger questions of globalisation. Time was not a single, shared, homogenous framework; it was produced unevenly through processes of movement, exchange, circulation and rupture. Drawing on both my work on dendrochronology and my earlier research on British child migrants, and in dialogue with my colleagues at gd:c, I am developing the concept of temporal dis:connectivity as a shared analytical framework for the research focus. I hope that this concept will give researchers a shared way of thinking about temporalities along the lines of global dis:connectivity and a lasting, common language to talk about it. At the same time, our research focusses aren’t hermetically sealed. For example, I am interested in laboratories in the history of dendrochronology as sites where temporal knowledge was produced, stabilised and contested. I also welcome the opportunity to further develop the concept of temporal dis:connectivity in relation to cultural infrastructures, where time becomes a resource and where different temporal regimes intersect. AG: As an art and fashion historian, my work reveals how cultural production was structured and sustained through infrastructural frameworks and design strategies. The cultural infrastructure of the fashion system encompasses ateliers and factories for production; magazines, exhibitions, fairs and fashion shows for dissemination; and stores, markets and social media for consumption. In my current research, cultural infrastructure goes beyond spaces and events to include networks of designers and manufacturers. Particularly from the early 20th century, they were organised through various national and international associations, shaped by alliances, dependencies, connections and disconnections.  As Yuniya Kawamura has argued in Fashion-ology, designers are key figures in the production of fashion; they personify fashion, and their designs objectify fashion. I would add that the centralisation of fashion production and its associated politics become evident through the designers’ strategies, which include their own infrastructure: the concept, making and presentation of a collection at a specific venue. In addition to these artistic practices, design strategies also involve entrepreneurial ventures to establish their work globally through cultural infrastructure.

US Vogue, March 15, 1953, Photo: © Vogue Archive, Condé Nast (March 15 1953 | Vogue)

Since the early 2000s, designer councils and fashion shows outside the traditional fashion capitals (Paris, New York, London, Milan) have sought to decentralise the global fashion system and disrupt its hierarchical and Eurocentric structures. Fashion weeks in cities like Jakarta and Dakar provide alternative platforms for local designers and textile traditions.  I am examining the roots of these national fashion policies, which aimed to strengthen regional economies, enhance prestige for local and indigenous craftsmanship, and export cultural heritage worldwide. Which artistic, commercial and industrial infrastructures helped to promote national design in the 20th century? Which transnational parallels run through the strategies and motivations of different fashion institutes? How and why were these institutions and associations supported by the government? https://youtu.be/TC9gGBwISUw In the postwar period, I am especially interested in fashion (re)presentations at international events such as the Olympic Games and world's fairs. They played an important role in framing how cultures, including dress practices, are aestheticised and made legible to global audiences. Designers mobilized dresses as symbols of (national) identity to inspire their designs, without considering the risk of cultural appropriation when elements are extracted, commodified and detached from their original cultural context. I am focusing on these strategies of global visibility and export alongside the institutional promotion of national fashion through institutes, associations and individual designers.

A German fashion magazine promoting what they called 'Mexican' fashion, inspired by the 1968 Summer Olympics held in Mexico City (Photo: Aliena Guggenberger)

CF: My research has long focused on experimental spaces at the fault line between the planetary and the global. Working at the intersection of architectural and environmental history, I study how built environments and infrastructures — laboratories, observatories and simulation facilities — mediate planetary processes such as seismic wave propagation, atmospheric circulation, oceanic currents, soil formation and the limits of life in extreme environments, rendering them globally legible. Whether examining geophysical observatories around 1900 (see my Planetary Disequilibrium), or, more recently, planetary analogues, I ask how these processes are translated into architectural form, experimental protocol, and infrastructures of knowledge, and what kinds of dis:connections emerge in that translation.

ESA-DLR LUNA - Moon analogue, Cologne, Germany. (above) Rehearsal - simulated moonwalk at the LUNA facilities as preparation for future lunar surface operations. Photo: © ESA/DLR - M. Diegeler. / (below) Virtual reality (VR) model of LUNA’s main hall containing the regolith test bed area with dust chamber visible. Image: © ESA/DLR-F. Saling.

This perspective also shapes my approach to the laboratories of dis:connectivity research focus here at gd:c. Rather than treating laboratories as bounded, local sites, I see them as mediating environments where abstract models of our planet assemble global relations. Laboratories extract signals, samples and processes from particular environments and render them comparable across distance and scale. In doing so, they connect the world through shared standards, models and datasets, while simultaneously disconnecting those abstractions from the social, ecological and political conditions that sustain them.

Concordia Station - planetary analogue, Dome C plateau in Antarctica. Operated jointly by the French Polar Institute IPEV and the Italian Antarctic Programme PNRA. Photo: © ESA/IPEV/PNRA-J. Lacrampe/N. Purvis.

These questions are at the centre of my current research project on planetary analogues. The project examines analogue environments — Antarctic research stations, lunar and Martian simulation facilities, underwater habitats and extreme desert sites — where Earth itself is reconfigured to stand in for other planets or future worlds. I approach these sites as laboratories of dis:connectivity: spaces that make planetary conditions actionable within global scientific, political, and technological regimes by selectively isolating variables, staging rehearsals and projecting futures, while unevenly displacing risk, labour and environmental exposure.
NASA JETT test series, San Francisco Volcanic Field near Flagstaff, Arizona, May 2024. The Joint Extravehicular Activity and Human Surface Mobility Program Test Team develops, integrates, and executes human-in-the-loop tests and analog missions. Drone footage of NASA astronauts Kate Rubins and Andre Doublas. Video: jsc2025m000255 © NASA/JSC. 
Thinking through the gd:c research focus has sharpened my view of these analogue sites. Approaching laboratories through dis:connectivity unearths the tension between the planetary and the global. The planetary refers to processes that exceed human scale and control, while the global names the infrastructures and institutions through which those processes are stabilised, managed and governed. Planetary analogues, understood as laboratories, sit precisely in between. They translate planetary uncertainty into global regimes of knowledge and governance, often producing new asymmetries while promising preparedness and resilience.

Digital plants laboratory showcasing global dis:connections. Sonia Sobrino Ralston and Simon Lesina-Debiasi, Run Dry: Digital Infrastructure and Landscape Loss in Mesa, Arizona, 2025, Information Plus Conference at the MIT Media Lab, Cambridge. (Images courtesy of the artists.)

In this reciprocal way, my research shapes the research focus as a shared space of inquiry, always in dialogue with our fellows’ projects, each coming from a different disciplinary and methodological perspective. The research focus likewise continues to sharpen my understanding of laboratories as sites where the planetary and the global rarely align seamlessly, but instead meet through friction, negotiation and experimentation. This is what makes laboratories such fertile ground for research at gd:c. Continue Reading

gd:c voices part II: virtuous epistemic circles

[Editor's note: this post continues the interview with our postdocs that we began last month.]  

How does your research shape the focus, and how is it shaped by the focus?

SQ: Temporality is not just an aspect of my research; it is the central object of my inquiry. In my current postdoctoral project I use trees to examine how modern societies have understood, measured and imagined time and history. Trees preserve material traces of past climates and human interventions, and they often outlive the people who study, manage and exploit them. Because they embody multiple temporal scales – biological, environmental and historical – trees reveal much about modern ideas of temporality as a constitutive feature of modernity itself.

Tree rings reflect growth and age (Photo: Susanne Quitmann)

My research focuses on the emergence of dendrochronology — the science of analysing tree-rings — in the late 19th and early 20th centuries in the United States, Germany and Sweden. Rather than writing a disciplinary history of dendrochronology as a scientific field, however, I examine how humans’ interactions with trees shaped thinking about natural, historical and social time. I am especially interested in how scientific practices, environmental knowledge and material encounters with trees cast new temporal frameworks and scales.

Wood samples at the Arizona Laboratory of Tree-Tring Research (LTRR), University of Arizona—the birthplace of dendrochronology (Photograph used with permission of the Laboratory of Tree-Ring Research, University of Arizona)

Engaging with temporalities as a research focus here at gd:c has provided a conceptual framework for approaching this history and linking it to larger questions of globalisation. Time was not a single, shared, homogenous framework; it was produced unevenly through processes of movement, exchange, circulation and rupture. Drawing on both my work on dendrochronology and my earlier research on British child migrants, and in dialogue with my colleagues at gd:c, I am developing the concept of temporal dis:connectivity as a shared analytical framework for the research focus. I hope that this concept will give researchers a shared way of thinking about temporalities along the lines of global dis:connectivity and a lasting, common language to talk about it. At the same time, our research focusses aren’t hermetically sealed. For example, I am interested in laboratories in the history of dendrochronology as sites where temporal knowledge was produced, stabilised and contested. I also welcome the opportunity to further develop the concept of temporal dis:connectivity in relation to cultural infrastructures, where time becomes a resource and where different temporal regimes intersect. AG: As an art and fashion historian, my work reveals how cultural production was structured and sustained through infrastructural frameworks and design strategies. The cultural infrastructure of the fashion system encompasses ateliers and factories for production; magazines, exhibitions, fairs and fashion shows for dissemination; and stores, markets and social media for consumption. In my current research, cultural infrastructure goes beyond spaces and events to include networks of designers and manufacturers. Particularly from the early 20th century, they were organised through various national and international associations, shaped by alliances, dependencies, connections and disconnections.  As Yuniya Kawamura has argued in Fashion-ology, designers are key figures in the production of fashion; they personify fashion, and their designs objectify fashion. I would add that the centralisation of fashion production and its associated politics become evident through the designers’ strategies, which include their own infrastructure: the concept, making and presentation of a collection at a specific venue. In addition to these artistic practices, design strategies also involve entrepreneurial ventures to establish their work globally through cultural infrastructure.

US Vogue, March 15, 1953, Photo: © Vogue Archive, Condé Nast (March 15 1953 | Vogue)

Since the early 2000s, designer councils and fashion shows outside the traditional fashion capitals (Paris, New York, London, Milan) have sought to decentralise the global fashion system and disrupt its hierarchical and Eurocentric structures. Fashion weeks in cities like Jakarta and Dakar provide alternative platforms for local designers and textile traditions.  I am examining the roots of these national fashion policies, which aimed to strengthen regional economies, enhance prestige for local and indigenous craftsmanship, and export cultural heritage worldwide. Which artistic, commercial and industrial infrastructures helped to promote national design in the 20th century? Which transnational parallels run through the strategies and motivations of different fashion institutes? How and why were these institutions and associations supported by the government? https://youtu.be/TC9gGBwISUw In the postwar period, I am especially interested in fashion (re)presentations at international events such as the Olympic Games and world's fairs. They played an important role in framing how cultures, including dress practices, are aestheticised and made legible to global audiences. Designers mobilized dresses as symbols of (national) identity to inspire their designs, without considering the risk of cultural appropriation when elements are extracted, commodified and detached from their original cultural context. I am focusing on these strategies of global visibility and export alongside the institutional promotion of national fashion through institutes, associations and individual designers.

A German fashion magazine promoting what they called 'Mexican' fashion, inspired by the 1968 Summer Olympics held in Mexico City (Photo: Aliena Guggenberger)

CF: My research has long focused on experimental spaces at the fault line between the planetary and the global. Working at the intersection of architectural and environmental history, I study how built environments and infrastructures — laboratories, observatories and simulation facilities — mediate planetary processes such as seismic wave propagation, atmospheric circulation, oceanic currents, soil formation and the limits of life in extreme environments, rendering them globally legible. Whether examining geophysical observatories around 1900 (see my Planetary Disequilibrium), or, more recently, planetary analogues, I ask how these processes are translated into architectural form, experimental protocol, and infrastructures of knowledge, and what kinds of dis:connections emerge in that translation.

ESA-DLR LUNA - Moon analogue, Cologne, Germany. (above) Rehearsal - simulated moonwalk at the LUNA facilities as preparation for future lunar surface operations. Photo: © ESA/DLR - M. Diegeler. / (below) Virtual reality (VR) model of LUNA’s main hall containing the regolith test bed area with dust chamber visible. Image: © ESA/DLR-F. Saling.

  This perspective also shapes my approach to the laboratories of dis:connectivity research focus here at gd:c. Rather than treating laboratories as bounded, local sites, I see them as mediating environments where abstract models of our planet assemble global relations. Laboratories extract signals, samples and processes from particular environments and render them comparable across distance and scale. In doing so, they connect the world through shared standards, models and datasets, while simultaneously disconnecting those abstractions from the social, ecological and political conditions that sustain them.

Concordia Station - planetary analogue, Dome C plateau in Antarctica. Operated jointly by the French Polar Institute IPEV and the Italian Antarctic Programme PNRA. Photo: © ESA/IPEV/PNRA-J. Lacrampe/N. Purvis.

These questions are at the centre of my current research project on planetary analogues. The project examines analogue environments — Antarctic research stations, lunar and Martian simulation facilities, underwater habitats and extreme desert sites — where Earth itself is reconfigured to stand in for other planets or future worlds. I approach these sites as laboratories of dis:connectivity: spaces that make planetary conditions actionable within global scientific, political, and technological regimes by selectively isolating variables, staging rehearsals and projecting futures, while unevenly displacing risk, labour and environmental exposure.
NASA JETT test series, San Francisco Volcanic Field near Flagstaff, Arizona, May 2024. The Joint Extravehicular Activity and Human Surface Mobility Program Test Team develops, integrates, and executes human-in-the-loop tests and analog missions. Drone footage of NASA astronauts Kate Rubins and Andre Doublas. Video: jsc2025m000255 © NASA/JSC. 
Thinking through the gd:c research focus has sharpened my view of these analogue sites. Approaching laboratories through dis:connectivity unearths the tension between the planetary and the global. The planetary refers to processes that exceed human scale and control, while the global names the infrastructures and institutions through which those processes are stabilised, managed and governed. Planetary analogues, understood as laboratories, sit precisely in between. They translate planetary uncertainty into global regimes of knowledge and governance, often producing new asymmetries while promising preparedness and resilience.

Digital plants laboratory showcasing global dis:connections. Sonia Sobrino Ralston and Simon Lesina-Debiasi, Run Dry: Digital Infrastructure and Landscape Loss in Mesa, Arizona, 2025, Information Plus Conference at the MIT Media Lab, Cambridge. (Images courtesy of the artists.)

  In this reciprocal way, my research shapes the research focus as a shared space of inquiry, always in dialogue with our fellows’ projects, each coming from a different disciplinary and methodological perspective. The research focus likewise continues to sharpen my understanding of laboratories as sites where the planetary and the global rarely align seamlessly, but instead meet through friction, negotiation and experimentation. This is what makes laboratories such fertile ground for research at gd:c. Continue Reading

gd:c voices: 3 postdocs – 3 research focusses – 2 questions

Dis:connectivity is at the heart of our work at gd:c. Instead of seeing globalisation as a linear process of increasing integration or fragmentation, dis:connectivity assumes connection and disconnection occur simultaneously through absences, detours and interruptions. Dis:connectivity is not an anomaly of globalisation; it’s what gives globalisation form. After having looked at absences, detours and interruptions across historical periods, regions and disciplines, we’re now turning our attention to cultural infrastructures, temporalities and laboratories of dis:connectivity. These focusses help us to coordinate our research and to compare our results. They also let all our individual projects speak to one another with a common vocabulary. In this ReFocus mini-series, our three postdocs introduce the three research focusses they coordinate. Aliena Guggenberger, Susanne Quitmann and Clemens Finkelstein each reflect on how their particular focus enriches globalisation research and outline how their own projects and collaborations at gd:c are shaped through cultural infrastructures, temporalities and laboratories of dis:connectivity.

Aliena, Susanne and Clemens (from left to right)

What does your research focus explore?

AG: Infrastructure is commonly understood as a set of economic facilities, such as transportation and communication networks. A cultural perspective emphasises how infrastructure shapes social relations. For example, while airports facilitate physical exchange and connections around the globe, cultural infrastructure enables social interaction through various activities and spaces, including art. Henri Lefebvre, in The Production of Space, conceptualises representational spaces (unlike planned or conceived space) as users live in them, experience them and endow them with meaning through images, narratives and embodied practices. 

Marina Abramovíc: The Artist is Present, MoMA New York 2010 (Image: Andrew Russeth via Wikimedia)

For me, that means cultural infrastructure plays an active role in constituting our shared knowledge. Places like theatres, museums, libraries, archives and cultural heritage sites support the creation and preservation of artifacts and performances. In their digital expansion, these institutions operate as globally accessible platforms, revealing intersections between various collections, like Google Arts and Culture does. Yet such innovation can also concentrate power and restrict/limit access as well, since each institution curates its own content and presents its own narrative. I like exploring how the immediate geographic locations of cultural infrastructures contextualise their history and how they encourage participation and critical thinking beyond their locations.

National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh (Image: Aliena Guggenberger)

SQ: Research on globalisation and global dis:connectivity has mostly focused on spaces and spatial relationships, like laboratories and cultural infrastructures. But time is just as important. Disruptions, absences and detours are as much about space as they are about time. They involve pauses, delays and haste. Time is a central variable in both the natural sciences and the humanities. In the sciences, time is mostly an objective, measurable value. In the humanities, by contrast, time is something people experience and interpret.

Watching time pass (Image: Susanne Quitmann)

Societies, groups and individuals can have different temporalities. Everyone experiences and lives in time, but research tends to overlook it. This began to change with the temporal turn in the humanities and the social sciences in the early 21st century, when researchers started to examine how time operates in areas ranging from the arts to social and environmental history. While some of this work touches on the issue of globalisation, and some studies of globalisation address temporality, the connection between processes of globalisation and temporality is still not fully understood.

Map of current de facto time zones as of March 2025 (UnaitxuGV, Heitordp and others via Wikimedia)

CF: I understand laboratories in a broad sense. For me, they include not only scientific research sites but also observatories, field stations, archives, exhibition spaces, simulation environments as well as artistic and design studios. Across these diverse settings, laboratories operate in similar ways: they simplify complexity, translate environments into models and data, and they stage the global as something that can be compared, tested and anticipated.

Laboratory settings across time and practice: (top) Art Lab in the Park by Street Lab, Queens Museum, NYC (2020) - a series of socially-distanced open-air art studio sessions, photo: © Street Lab (CC BY-NC 4.0); (left) An alchemist in his laboratory with his family: to the right they are shown calling at the poorhouse, destitute after the husband's failed experiments. Engraving after Pieter Brueghel the Elder, c.1558. Wellcome Collection 35278i (Public Domain); (right) Quantum Lab - Oak Ridge National Laboratory (ORNL) (2020). Two-color pulse sequences are generated for spin lifetime and spin coherence measurements in a dilution refrigerator. Photo: © ORNL (CC BY 2.0).

This is why I see laboratories as a connective hinge between the other research focusses at gd:c. As cultural infrastructures, they organise access, visibility and authority in knowledge production; as temporal devices, they structure anticipation, delay, repetition and projection. Laboratories are often imagined as controlled spaces that are removed from the world they study. Yet from the perspective of globalisation research, I approach them less as enclosed environments than as sites where global relations are assembled, interrupted and reconfigured. This helps me explore them as spaces of dis:connectivity in which elements of the world are temporarily extracted from their contexts, transformed into objects of knowledge and reconnected in new, often asymmetrical ways.

How does your research focus enrich globalisation research and how is the focus related to dis:connectivity?

CF: Seen through the lens of dis:connectivity, I approach laboratories as anything but neutral sites. The experiments they house select and abstract some connections while obscuring others. Knowledge produced in laboratories often circulates globally, while the material, social and ecological consequences of experimentation remain unevenly distributed. This asymmetry is no accident: historically, laboratories have been closely linked to imperial, extractive and modernising projects, while also serving as spaces of critique and alternative world-making.

Planetary laboratories and their dis:connected worlds of science, technology and extraction: (left) the Columbus Laboratory module aboard the International Space Station, where experiments abstract planetary processes under microgravity, photo: © NASA; (right) the Sunrise Dam Gold Mine in Western Australia, an extractive landscape whose materials — gold among them, integral to aerospace electronics—circulate into orbital infrastructures, even as the social and ecological costs of extraction remain unevenly grounded, photo: © Calistemon (CC BY-NC 4.0).

What interests me in particular is how laboratories today increasingly operate as anticipatory sites. In the context of climate change, technological acceleration and planetary transformation, they are where futures are modelled, risks are simulated, and thresholds are crossed. Studying laboratories as sites of dis:connectivity allows me to situate future-oriented debates in historical analyses of globalisation, tracing how experimental spaces and built environments have always shaped the governance of human and more-than-human futures under conditions of polycrisis and existential risk.

Anticipatory laboratories staging speculative futures of dis:connected globalisation beyond Earth. Cylindrical Colonies for a population of over a million (1976). Image: © NASA Ames Research Center / Rick Guidice - AC75-1086.

SQ: Our research at gd:c has only just begun to explore the relationship between temporality and global dis:connectivity. However, rereading existing scholarship through the lens of temporality, we see that the connection was there all along. Adding the two concepts of temporal dis:connectivity and dis:connected temporalities can only enrich our investigations. Temporality is central to how we experience globalisation and deglobalisation as well as to public debates about these phenomena, from fast-moving financial markets and disrupted supply chains to migrants waiting in transit and the idea of uneven historical change in different parts of the world.

Renaissance table clock (Image: Susanne Quitmann)

I am particularly interested in the latter phenomenon: the perception of diverging civilisational temporalities and varying cultural and political references between the present, the past and the future. I would argue that  focussing on temporalities in  the study of globalisation and dis:connectivity helps us better understand how global dis:connections are made, strained and experienced.

Arriving ship on a pocket watch (Image: Susanne Quitmann)

AG: Considering cultural infrastructure as a material framework helps make the highly theorised and complex research on globalisation more tangible to me. Cultural activities and spaces are visible platforms for discussing global narratives, whether they are brought to life on stage, presented loudly in public conversations or, more subtly, documented in books or materialised through exhibits. All these experiences foster critical thinking.  During the COVID-19 pandemic I first truly recognised the importance of cultural infrastructure not only as space for artistic expression, a repository of collective memory, but also as a connector. Debates about whether cultural infrastructure counts as an essential service shook its foundations and challenged its resilience. Ongoing cuts to the budgets of cultural institutions reinforce the injustice in disparate access and participation, forfeiting potential connection and replacing it with greater isolation.

Design exhibition (Salone des Mobile), Milan (Image: Aliena Guggenberger)

While these micro-fractures may be hard to see, the vulnerability of cultural infrastructure is unmistakable in its symbolic and public positioning. It is exposed to digital threats such as cyberattacks as well as to analogue forms of violence, including the deliberate targeting and destruction of cultural heritage sites in times of war.

Ruins of a theatre in Mariupol (Image: Lirhan2016 via Wikimedia)

In the current political climate, I think it is more essential than ever to promote and practice intercultural dialogue. It is therefore inspiring to see how the diverse approaches at gd:c – scholarly research as well as artists’ perspectives – uncover striking parallels in the study of global and local cultural infrastructure. This shared knowledge encourages a can-do attitude and collaboration, even beyond our time here. [Editor's note: the interview continues here.] Continue Reading

New publication by former fellow Andrea Azizi Kifyasi

We are delighted to announce the publication of a new book by our former fellow Andrea Azizi Kifyasi (Department of History, University of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania).

Drawing on extensive archival and oral sources, many previously inaccessible, the book explores major Chinese-funded projects in Tanzania’s health sector. It examines the historical contexts of China’s medical assistance and how these projects contributed to nation-building, promoted South-South medical knowledge exchange, and fostered self-sufficiency within Tanzania. By analyzing these entanglements, the book offers valuable insights into South-South cooperation and the dynamics of development partnerships in the Global South.

You can find the publication here.

We warmly congratulate Andrea on this important contribution to research on international collaboration and the history of medical infrastructure in Africa!

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20-21 October 2025, Beyond binaries. Rethinking dis:connectivity and globalisation

This conference marks the beginning of global dis:connect’s second funding phase. It explores the promises and challenges of the concept of dis:connectivity from an interdisciplinary perspective. Serving as a bridge between the past four years of research—during which we sought to unpack and define the concept—and the years ahead, the event will focus on advancing its empirical applicability across both spatial and temporal dimensions. Bringing together current and former fellows, gd:c staff, and partner institutions, the conference fosters dialogue and knowledge exchange across funding phases.   You can find the programme HERE.     Continue Reading

22 May, Bioclimatic design in Senegal: lessons from the École d’Architecture et d’Urbanisme de Dakar and the work of Worofila

Bioclimatic design is a key tool to achieve more sustainable architecture. It can help reduce CO2 emissions in construction, preserve local cultural techniques, and improve how buildings are adapted to their users. These issues are particularly important in Africa — the continent with the world's highest urbanisation rates and a rapidly expanding construction sector. Nzinga Mboup, co-owner of the architecture firm Worofila and curator at the Canadian Centre for Architecture, will discuss the past and present of bioclimatic design in Senegal. She starts appropriately with Dakar's first school of architecture, which operated from 1973 to 1991. This school, which was intended to increase the autonomy of architectural education in West Africa, advanced pioneering technical and pedagogical approaches in the study of bioclimatic design and served as a global model. In her lecture, Mboup examines the experiences of this school in relation to today's challenges in construction and her own architectural practice.   Nzinga Biegueng Mboup studied architecture in Pretoria and London. In 2019, she founded her own architecture firm in Dakar together with Nicolas Rondet. She has worked for Adjaye Associates and collaborated with Kéré Architecture. In addition, she has led several research projects on Dakar's urban history.     Date: 22 May, 2025, 6pm Venue: Pavillon 333, Türkenstraße 15, 80333 Munich. Organisers: Nikolai Brandes (LMU), Andres Lepik (TUM) Please register here by 13 May.         Continue Reading

Alumna but not forgotten: an interview with Katarzyna Puzon

katarzyna puzon
 

When were at global dis:connect, and what did you work on while here?

Image: Iveta Rysava/PolasBerlin

I was based at gd:c from July 2022 to June 2023, and my project was – and still is – concerned with scientific sound archives and how to deal with their legacy and ways of producing knowledge. Its focus and scope strongly resonate with my long-standing interest in temporality and the interplay of heritage, science and art, including in museums, exhibition spaces, urban sites and broader collaborative endeavours. The project is deeply rooted in my anthropological thinking, but it crosses disciplinary boundaries, drawing on critical heritage studies, sound studies, history of science and STS approaches. And it has a practical bent.

Where do you work now and are you still dealing with dis:connectivity?

After my fellowship, I returned to Berlin. One of the projects I was involved in last autumn concerned communicating science through sound and exhibiting (spoken) language. This was in the framework of the Nach der Natur (After Nature) exhibition. I was invited to comment on it and write about its media section, together with a colleague who is a musicologist and with whom I have been in dialogue for years. In this particular case, dis:connectivity was rather absent (an intriguing figure of speech). However, I have always worked on paradoxes and contradictions, as many anthropologists do, which seems inevitable when one needs to engage intensively with other people while doing ethnographic fieldwork in a ‘foreign’ context. In many respects, dis:connectivity fits into the paradoxical paradigm that I develop in my work. Analytically speaking, I find it more productive to use this tool in my research on scientific sound archives than in, for example, my book on Beirut.

What text – whether a book or article – have you read recently that particularly impressed you?

I can’t recall any text that has impressed me recently. Though I have been rereading Michail Bachtin’s The Dialogic Imagination and rethinking his ideas of chronotope and polyphony.

Which song could be the soundtrack for your time at gdc?

It is hard to pick just one piece, but it could be Thunder Continues in the Aftermath by Laurie Anderson & Kronos Quartet. https://youtu.be/38o6rozmYbI

Given the choice of anyone dead or alive, or even a fictional character, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

I would love to have dinner with Ursula K. Le Guin, a writer who passed away in 2018. Her evocative thought experiments deftly transcend conventions and genres (even if she is commonly classified as a speculative fiction or science fiction writer), while engaging with social, political and environmental issues. We would most likely talk about ‘what if’, temporality and technology, and reflect on how ‘the word for world is forest’ (inspired by the title of one of her books). If gd:c could fulfill my request and arrange a dinner with her for me, that would be a nice treat. A séance might do the trick. Continue Reading