Aimé Civiale's attempt at a complete photographic coverage of the High Alps seems to be a peculiar project at first sight. Carried out between 1859 and 1868, this was the earliest systematic attempt to introduce photography as a medium for studying the earth sciences. But as precise and determined as Civiale's approach appears, it was still quite unclear at the time how exactly photography could be useful in geology. This paper asks where the great confidence in the new medium in regard to mountain representations came from. The answer is not an easy one, as sources on Civiale's project are scarce. To make things even more difficult, the confidence in photography in the earth sciences during that time seems to have been based more on hope than on actual results. It is difficult to extract hope from written sources, let alone from images. I argue that this confidence was not so much based on photography's classic attributes of exactness or objectivity, but on its promise to produce unexpected results. Therefore this argument will inevitably have speculative elements. Thus, this paper can also be understood as an attempt to deal with a specific historiographical problem that regularly occurs when writing about images.

In the late 1960s, in the midst of campus unrest, a group of young economists calling themselves “radicals” challenged the boundaries of economics. In the radicals' cultural cartography, economic science and politics were represented as overlapping. These claims were scandalous because they were voiced from Harvard University, drawing on its authority. With radicals' claims the subject of increasing media attention, the economics mainstream sought to re-assert the longstanding cultural map of economic science, where objectivity and advocacy were distinguishable. The resolution of the contest of credibility came with a string of cases of dismissals and denial of tenure for radicals. The American Economic Association's investigations of these cases, imposing the conventional cultural map, concluded that personnel decisions had not been politically motivated. Radicals were forced to migrate from the elite institutions from which they had emerged to less prestigious ones. “Place” became a marker of their marginalization within the profession.

The article examines the organizational patterns of nineteenth-century Swiss Alpine geology. It argues that early and middle nineteenth-century Swiss geognosy was shaped in genealogical terms and that the patterns of genealogical reasoning and practice worked as a vehicle of transmission toward the generalization of locally gained empirical knowledge. The case study is provided by the Zurich geologist Albert Heim, who, in the early 1870s, blended intellectual and patrilineal genealogies that connected two generations of fathers and sons: Hans Conrad and Arnold Escher, Albert and Arnold Heim. Two things were transmitted from one generation to the next, a domain of geognostic research, the Glarus Alps, and a research interest in an explanation of the massive geognostic anomalies observed there. The legacy found its embodiment in the Escher family archive. The genealogical logic became visible and then experienced a crisis when, later in the century, the focus of Alpine geology shifted from geognosy to tectonics. Tectonic research loosened the traditional link between the intimate knowledge of a territory and the generalization from empirical data.

What, if anything, uniquely defines the mountain as a “laboratory of nature”? Here, this question is considered from the perspective of meteorology. Mountains played a central role in the early history of modern meteorology. The first permanent year-round high-altitude weather stations were built in the 1880s but largely fell out of use by the turn of the twentieth century, not to be revived until the 1930s. This paper considers the unlikely survival of the Sonnblick observatory (3105 m.) in the Austrian Alps. By examining the arguments of the Sonnblick's critics and defenders, it reveals a seemingly paradoxical definition of the mountain as a space that simultaneously maximized isolation and communication. Drawing on the social and environmental history of the Alps, it shows how the Sonnblick came to appear as the perfect embodiment of this paradox.

The administration of mountain expeditions from the ground created special managerial problems. The Harvard College Observatory's Boyden Expeditions of 1887–1890 sent men and materiel to three sites: Pike's Peak, Colorado; Mount Wilson, California; and Chosica, Peru. Their goal was to test sites in order to find a suitable site for a permanent Boyden station to conduct astrophysical work in service of Harvard's preexisting projects. The logistical difficulties of living on the mountainside combined with the organizational difficulties of administrating a station at a distance. The men who lived on the mountain were professionally vulnerable, and often cut off from their home observatory both by the weather conditions at their own altitude and local politics on the ground below them. Only when an unbroken line of communication could be established between the mountain station and the Harvard Observatory could the astronomers on both ends work together to create a successful expedition.

From 1893 to 1909 when it definitely sunk into the glacier, the Mont-Blanc Observatory (MBO) struggled to find its scientific purpose. In this article, we use recent literature on the social characterization of place to analyze this struggle. Our first goal is to investigate where the observatory may fit in the laboratory-field dyad. We investigate various kinds of conceptual “borderlands” between these places and look at the networking activities between particular knowledge production sites. We argue that part observatory, part laboratory, and part field station, the place of the MBO was “heterotopic” space in Foucault's sense. We then examine the social underpinnings that led to the foundation of this observatory in the context of French Third Republic at the turn of the century. Following some of the ways the MBO was connected to other scientific sites and surveying some of its visitors' scientific practices, we finally hint at the fact that some of these practices played a part in the emergence of a regime of science production that endured into the twentieth century (astrophysical aeronautical practices, spatial stations, polar exploration, etc.)