Scientific terms are integral to the conduct of science and encapsulate the trajectories of scientists’ practices. Helge Kragh traces how terms in science are coined, endure, fade and migrate, illuminating the diverse practices of scientists and their transformations over time, while also exploring the historical relationship between language and science. Building on his etymological investigation in physics and cosmology from the past decade, Kragh broadens his scope to integrate linguistic elements with the history of science. Following an introduction to key linguistic terms, the text is organized into six chapters, each focusing on specific areas of physics, chemistry, geology, astronomy and cosmology, while providing insightful digressions into other fields and broader linguistic concepts. The book is designed for both humanist and scientific audiences. Readers can either pick up terms from the index and explore their stories and implications, or follow the historical trajectory of science through its nomenclature, gaining a deeper understanding of how the development of science is intertwined with language.
Kragh’s description underscores that scientists seriously and deliberately engage with names. Michael Faraday sought William Whewell’s advice on the electrochemical terms he was introducing, leading to the incorporation of terms such as ‘ion’, ‘anion’ and ‘cation’ into the scientific lexicon (pp. 80–5); at Bell Labs, scientists voted for the name ‘transistor’ (pp. 116–18); Galileo named Jupiter’s moons ‘Medicea Sidera’ in honour of his patron (p. 249); the ‘Bunsen burner’ was named to capitalize on Robert Bunsen’s fame – although his role in its invention has been questioned (p. 200); name disputes, such as those over element names, often mirror broader controversies in theory and discovery. The stories behind some names thus reveal the diverse strategies scientists employ.
Kragh also observes that the way scientists form new names has shifted over time. Eponyms – terms derived from individuals – have long been common but often controversial for priority, practical, political and ideological reasons. ‘Stigler’s law of eponymy’, itself an eponym, asserts that no discovery is named after its original discoverer (pp. 23–4), an exaggeration, yet, in many cases, eponyms are misleading or inaccurate. As scientific research became more collaborative, particularly in the late twentieth century, attributing names to individuals became increasingly untenable. While forming new terms from Greek or Latin roots was once the established tradition, deviations have emerged, including hybrid terms such as Paul Dirac’s ‘eigenstate’ (a fusion of German and English) (p. 177) and super-names like ‘superconductivity’ and ‘supernova’ (pp. 105–6). These shifts reflect broader changes in modes of scientific practice and communication.
Kragh’s analysis covers how names fade or are replaced over time. Some terms, like Arthur Eddington’s ‘wavicle’ (a combination of ‘wave’ and ‘particle’) to describe wave–particle duality (pp. 173–4), are ‘nonce words’ in linguistics – coined for a specific purpose and unlikely to gain widespread acceptance. Even terms that initially gained prominence, such as ‘mesotron’, were eventually replaced by alternatives, in this case ‘meson’ (pp. 127–30). Once a term becomes established, it becomes difficult to replace; for instance, Carl Anderson’s proposal of ‘negatron’ for the negative electron, in keeping with the symmetry of the positron he discovered, failed (p. 121). The rise and fall of names follows a dynamic distinct from that of theories and concepts.
Kragh draws attention to how the meanings of terms shift with transformations in scientific practices and their contexts. Disciplinary labels reflect the organization of scientific knowledge and are sensitive to its shifts. For instance, the scope of Aristotle’s treatise on physics (physica in Latin) differs from that of modern physics (pp. 52–3). The stories behind names sometimes illuminate social or political contexts, as in the case of the unit ‘Hz’. In Nazi Germany, the unit was proposed to be associated with the Aryan Hermann von Helmholtz, as H(elmholt)z, rather than the Jew Heinrich Hertz, as H(ert)z (pp. 96–7).
Kragh also highlights how names traverse contexts. For instance, the term ‘plasma’ migrated from medical sciences to physics (pp. 112–4), and ‘metabolon’ shifted from radioactivity research to biochemistry (p. 167). Linus Pauling employed ‘hybridization’ in early quantum chemistry, likely inspired by biologists’ use (p. 206). Successful theories can influence terminology in other fields. For example, Darwinian evolutionary phrases, such as the ‘struggle for existence’, spread to chemistry, physics and astronomy in the late nineteenth century (p. 212). Kragh’s account illustrates how names and their metaphorical uses are intertwined with scientists’ practices in confronting new phenomena.
Indeed, the metaphorical use of terms and the transfer of meaning are recurring themes throughout the book. While always approached cautiously by scientists, words often migrate between everyday contexts and scientific discourse, being ‘recycled’ in the linguistic sense (p. 203). To explain new phenomena, scientists rely on metaphors, and the names associated with them travel across fields. Kragh calls attention to the complex and sometimes problematic relationship between metaphor and model. For instance, the ‘liquid drop’ model of nuclear structure, initially conceived in terms of surface tension, led physicists to think with related vocabularies, such as ‘evaporation’ and ‘temperature’ (p. 35). In cosmology, scientists were forced to invent metaphors to describe concepts like what a closed universe is or what it means that the universe is expanding. Many of these metaphors – most notably the ‘Big Bang’ – persist in popular and educational contexts and scientific presentations.
Although Kragh asserts that ‘the kind of terminologically oriented history of science I have in mind is merely a supplement to the traditional history of science, not an alternative to it’ (p. vii), his book abundantly demonstrates the fruitfulness of placing the names of science in historical perspectives. In a similar vein to Michael D. Gordin’s Scientific Babel (2015), it sheds light on the diversity of scientific practice and its historical development through the lens of language, highlighting the historiographical challenges inherent in the linguistic dimensions of scientific practices – and this book stands as an essential starting point for anyone seeking to explore this field.
