This article reconstructs the process of defining influenza as an infectious disease in the contexts of British medicine between 1890 and 1914. It shows how professional agreement on its nature and identity involved aligning different forms of knowledge produced in the field (public health), in the clinic (metropolitan hospitals) and in the laboratory (bacteriology). Two factors were crucial to this process: increasing trust in bacteriology and the organisation of large-scale collective investigations into influenza by Britain’s central public authority, the Medical Department of the Local Government Board. These investigations integrated epidemiological, clinical and bacteriological evidence into a new definition of influenza as a specific infection, in which a germ – Bacillus influenzae – was determined as playing a necessary but not sufficient role in its aetiology, transmission and pathogenesis. In defining ‘modern influenza’, bacteriological concepts and techniques were adapted to and selectively incorporated into existing clinical, pathological and epidemiological approaches. Mutual alignment thus was crucial to its construction and, more generally, to shaping developing relationships between laboratory, clinical and public health medicine in turn-of-the-century Britain. While these relationships were marked by tension and conflict, they were also characterised by important patterns of convergence, in which the problems, interests and practices of public health professionals, clinicians and laboratory pathologists were made increasingly commensurable. Rather than retrospectively judge the late nineteenth-century definition of influenza as being based on the wrong microbe, this article argues for the need to examine how it was established through a particular alignment of medical knowledge, which then underpinned medical approaches to the disease up to and beyond the devastating 1918–19 pandemic.

American psychiatry on the eve of Pearl Harbor was a small, stigmatised, and isolated specialty, for the most part confined as surely inside the high walls of its barrack-asylums as the patients over whom it exercised near-autocratic powers. The number of mentally ill patients incarcerated in state and county mental hospitals had grown sharply, from 150,000 at the turn of the century to 445,000 in 1940. The fiscal crisis of the states that accompanied the Great Depression had produced a steady deterioration of conditions in these institutions, a deterioration that would intensify as a result of the exigencies of total war. In the immediate aftermath of that prolonged conflict, conditions had degenerated to such a parlous state that a number of outside observers compared America's asylums to Nazi death camps.

Food safety is an ever more conflictive issue receiving media attention. “The increased activity of interest groups, the impact of the Common Agricultural Policy and changes in the retail economy have combined to transform [a relatively closed] food policy community into an issue network”. This account of recent changes lacks the historical dimension that might endow it with meaning. It is hardly appropriate to describe the current situation as a reawakening after a long slumber. In France at least, complaints about food safety voiced in numerous newspaper articles echo enduring concerns and a permanent sense of alarm. In 1957, Demain ran a catalogue of food scares: industrial bread causing eczema; wine adulterated with sulphur anhydride (for safe transportation); eggs and milk feared by doctors to be toxic (because chickens were being fed with chemicals or fish, and cattle with ground up rubbish); and filthy conditions on cattle and poultry farms. Much the same sort of list could have been drawn up early in the century during meetings of the Société Scientifique d'Hygiène Alimentaire (created in 1904), or run in the press following passage of the 1905 Food Adulteration Act, or printed in popular pamphlets such as Dr Raffray's Le péril alimentaire (1912). As the Common Market took shape in the 1960s, repeated articles in the daily newspapers relentlessly focused on the issue of food and public health. In France, arguments were continually framed in the language of the 1905 act.

Recent scholarship has explored the dynamics between families and colonial lunatic asylums in the late nineteenth century, where families actively participated in the processes of custodial care, committal, treatment and release of their relatives. This paper works in this historical field, but with some methodological and theoretical differences. The Foucauldian study is anchored to a single case and family as an illness narrative that moves cross-referentially between bureaucratic state archival material, psychiatric case records, and intergenerational family-storytelling and family photographs. Following headaches and seizures, Harry Walter Wilbraham was medically boarded from his position as Postmaster in the Cape of Good Hope Colony of South Africa with a ‘permanent disease of the brain’, and was committed to the Grahamstown Asylum in 1910, where he died the following year, aged 40 years. In contrast to writings about colonial asylums that usually describe several patient cases and thematic patterns in archival material over time and place, this study’s genealogical lens examines one white settler male patient’s experiences within mental health care in South Africa between 1908 and 1911. The construction of Harry’s ‘case’ interweaves archival sources and reminiscences inside and outside the asylum, and places it within psychiatric discourse of the time, and family dynamics in the years that followed. Thus, this case study maps the constitution of ‘patient’ and ‘family’ in colonial life, c.1888–1918, and considers the calamity, uncertainty, stigma and silences of mental illness.

This paper documents the proposals put forward by George Scott Williamson and Innes Pearse, founders of the Peckham Health Centre and members of the Political and Economic Planning (PEP) Health Group, to enhance the role and status of the general practitioner (GP). Their ideas are significant in terms of their understanding of the threat that specialism posed to general practice and of the problems of control and finance raised by reform. Their solution - the establishment of GP therapeutic centres or cells - is located in terms of their own ideas regarding health and medical practice and is compared with the other major proposal for group practice in health centres, which emanated from the Dawson Committee in 1920. Finally, the paper provides some suggestions as to the reason for their failure.