SOURCE: "Pavlov's Physiology Factory," in Isis, Vol. 88, No. 2, June, 1997, pp. 205-46.

[In the following essay, Todes details the work produced in Pavlov's laboratory at the Imperial Institute of Experimental Medicine, analyzing Pavlov's scientific and managerial vision, as well as the forces and relations of production in the lab.]

What is a scientific laboratory? It is a small world, a small corner of reality. And in this small corner man labors with his mind at the task of . . . knowing this reality in order correctly to predict what will happen, .. . to even direct this reality according to his discretion, to command it, if this is within our technical means.

—Ivan Pavlov (1918)

In four successive years Ivan Pavlov was nominated for the Nobel Prize, and each time the committee confronted the same question: To what extent were the products of Pavlov's laboratory truly Pavlov's? The nominee had himself pronounced his most substantial work, Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands (1897), "the deed of the entire laboratory" and credited his coworkers by name for conducting the relevant experiments. More-over, he referred those readers seeking detailed experimental evidence for his most important arguments to the publications of his coworkers, where many of these arguments first appeared. Did Pavlov's major works, then, represent his own, original contributions to science, or were they merely "a type of compilation of the experimental dissertations upon which they are based"?¹

Guided by an image of the heroic lone investigator, the Nobel Prize Committee here confronted a different form of scientific production.² Just as the workshop was yielding pride of place to the factory in goods production, so, as the nineteenth century wore on, were leading laboratory scientists increasingly likely to be the managers of large-scale enterprises. Justus von Liebig and Felix Hoppe-Seyler in chemistry, Karl Ludwig and Michael Foster in physiology, Robert Koch and Louis Pasteur in bacteriology, and Paul Ehrlich in immunology all presided over distinctively social enterprises involving substantial capital investment, a relatively large workforce, a division of labor, and a productive process that involved managerial decisions. Clearly, their achievements owed something not only to their scientific (and rhetorical) skills but also to their qualities as masters of large-scale production.³

In this essay I explore the forces and relations of production in Pavlov's laboratory at the Imperial Institute of Experimental Medicine during the first phase of its operation (1891-1904). As in St. Petersburg's massive Putilov ironworks, the forces of production in Pavlov's laboratory included its physical site and technologies, its workforce (with its skills), and management's ideas about what constituted good products and how best to produce them. In my discussion of Pavlov's laboratory, I refer to the first set of ideas—consisting of his notions about good science and good physiology—as his "scientific vision." I refer to the second set of ideas—concerning how best to produce good physiology with the resources at his disposal—as his "managerial vision." Like analogous visions in the Putilov factory, Pavlov's scientific and managerial visions suffused all aspects of the production process, shaping (along with the obvious "objective factors") the construction of the laboratory's physical site; the development and use of its technologies; the choice, training, and deployment of its workforce; and the processing, form, and marketing of its final products.

BERNARD AND PAVLOV: ONE SCIENTIFIC VISION, TWO FORMS OF PRODUCTION

When Ivan Pavlov (1849-1936) embarked in the early 1870s upon a career in physiology he may well, in his headier moments, have dreamed of becoming the Russian Claude Bernard. A much-revered figure among Russian intellectuals, Bernard appealed both to the radical theorists who inspired Pavlov to abandon his seminary studies in Ryazan and to the generation of physiologists that greeted him in St. Petersburg. For radicals, Bernard was an apostle of modern life science and an ally in the battle against tsarist metaphysics; for Russian physiologists, he was the leading prophet of their professionalizing discipline. Pavlov once identified Bernard as "the original inspiration of my physiological activity" and claimed to have read the master in the original French.⁴ He certainly read Bernard's work closely while studying physiology at St. Petersburg University, where he apprenticed himself to Bernard's former student and collaborator Ilya Tsion. Tsion set his protégé to work on two topics dear to his own French mentor, and Pavlov's first two scientific reports—on the nervous regulation of the heart (1874) and on the innervation of the pancreatic gland (1875)—bore the distinct marks of their Bernardian paternity.⁵

Throughout his career, Pavlov's scientific vision was unwaveringly Bernardian and his rhetoric bore a striking similarity to that in Bernard's Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine (1865).⁶ For both physiologists, the organism was a purposeful, complex, specifically biological machine governed by deterministic relations. The physiologist's task was to uncover these unvarying relations, to control experimentally or otherwise account for the "numberless factors" that concealed them behind a veil of apparent spontaneity. Physiology would thus attain mastery over the organism and give birth to an experimental pathology and therapeutics that would revolutionize medicine. In this spirit, Pavlov always insisted upon results that were pravil'nye—a word that means both "regular" and "correct," capturing his view that, in physiological experiments, the two meanings were one and the same. Pavlov also shared Bernard's commitment to organ physiology, which addressed a level "high" enough to encompass the vital, purposeful activity of complex organic machines but "low" enough to discover the unvarying laws without which physiology would not qualify as a science.⁷

There were, to be sure, some differences between the French visionary and his Russian admirer. Pavlov's holism was, if anything, more developed than Bernard's—as we shall see, this was reflected in his distrust of vivisection—and Pavlov directed his attention less to-ward the complexities of the organism's milieu interieur and more toward the relationship between the organism and external circumstances. Moreover, beginning in the 1890s Pavlov addressed a qualitatively different type of scientific question than had Bernard; and his determination to uncover unvarying patterns for the complex phenomena he encountered led him quietly to modify one of the Frenchman's epistemological positions.⁸ For our purposes here, though, another difference is more important: that between a workshop physiologist and a factory physiologist.

Bernard held that, as William Coleman has put it, "because access to the living workshop-organism is so difficult, we must create another workshop that is specially devoted to this task." Bernard's discussions of experimental work highlighted both its visionary and craft dimensions and emphasized the physiologist's need for an appropriately equipped place in which to conduct it.

Bernard was also a "workshop physiologist" in another sense: he worked either alone, with a single assistant, or with an occasional collaborator, pursuing a single line of investigation at a time in a relatively small space.⁹

As the product of Bernard's reflections upon his own practice, An Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine addressed the epistemological, craft, and, one might say, psychological challenges that confronted the individual investigator. For Bernard, the same individual devised, conducted, and interpreted an experiment, and so had to adopt the fundamentally different "qualities of mind" required at each juncture. Thus when devising an experiment, one must have a preconceived idea; when observing its results, one must become a passive "photographer of phenomena"; when ascribing meaning to these results, "reasoning intervenes, and the experimenter steps forward to interpret the phenomenon." The fluid dynamics of experimental trials made these stages "impossible to disassociate" in practice, but they remained conceptually distinct. So, "in the experimenter we might also differentiate and separate the man who preconceives and devises an experiment from the man who carries it out or notes its results. In the former, it is the scientific investigator's mind that acts; in the latter, it is the senses that observe and note." Thus, even the blind naturalist François Huber had "left us admirable experiments which he conceived and afterward had carried out by his serving man, who, for his part, had not a single scientific idea. So Huber was the directing mind that devised the experiment; but he was forced to borrow another's senses. The serving man stood for the passive senses, obedient to the mind in carrying out an experiment devised in the light of a preconceived idea."¹⁰

Pavlov began his career in a workshop, but two sets of circumstances—and his response to them—transformed him in the early 1890s into Russia's first factory physiologist. The first of these concerned the founding of the Imperial Institute of Experimental Medicine by Prince A. P. Ol'denburgskii, a member of the extended tsarist family and heir to a tradition of medically oriented philanthropy. A series of events and contingencies—the timely announcements of Pasteur's rabies vaccine and Koch's tuberculin, the politics of the prince's enterprise and his tactics in securing a place for it on the state payroll, and Pavlov's connection to Russia's most eminent physician, Sergei Botkin—led Ol'denburgskii to appoint Pavlov chief of the institute's Physiology Division in 1891. Two years after failing in competitions for assistant professorships at two different Russian universities, Pavlov thereby became master of the country's largest and best-equipped physiological laboratory.¹¹

Yet that laboratory would have remained a roomy workshop were it not for the appearance of a new labor force. Immediately upon opening its doors, the institute was transformed by an "unexpected influx of scientific forces wishing to use [its] facilities." Originally, the institute's six scientific divisions were housed within a single building; laboratory facilities for each were designed to accommodate the division head and an assistant or two. This unanticipated flood of "scientific forces," however, precipitated a radical expansion, and several divisions acquired separate buildings designed to accommodate a large contingent of laboratory workers.¹²

This new labor force was created by a medical bureaucracy that sought to modernize Russian medicine by encouraging physicians to make a "detour through the lab." Convinced of the military and economic importance of medicine, and persuaded that the progress of Western European medicine rested upon the triumph of "scientific positivism," the Ministry of Internal Affairs launched a grant program to encourage physicians "to improve themselves scientifically." Participating physicians were granted a service leave lasting from six months to two years for studies at the Military-Medical Academy, a university medical school, a university clinic, or a hospital close to a university. By the 1890s, the state offered substantial incentives for using this study leave to earn a doctorate in medicine: these included a higher salary and survivor benefits, elevation on the Table of Ranks, preferential hiring to desirable posts in the medical establishment, and, for Jewish physicians, exemption from a number of discriminatory laws.¹³ There was, however, one "catch": largely unlettered in the sciences, these physicians had a maximum of two years to define, research, complete, and defend a doctoral thesis.

The flood of these temporary investigators at the institute—where they were termed praktikanty (the singular is praktikant)—offered its division chiefs the opportunity to establish a large-scale laboratory enterprise. Some, like S. N. Vinogradskii in the Microbiology Division, preferred workshop science and demurred. Others accepted large numbers of praktikanty and then, depending on their motives and their scientific-managerial vision, incorporated them into laboratory work in various ways. For his part, Pavlov immediately put his praktikanty to work within a tightly managed, unified productive unit guided by his own scientific vision.¹⁴

The managerial vision animating this operation involved the transformation of Bernard's "qualities of mind" into a highly rationalized division of labor. Pavlov himself (in principle) assumed control over the qualities that Bernard had credited to Huber's "directing mind," while using his coworkers—like Huber's servant—as extensions of his own senses, as largely "passive photographer[s] of phenomena."¹⁵

The obvious challenges inherent to this transformation of an epistemological issue into a managerial policy underscore the close relationship between scientific and managerial visions. Our story, in fact, involves not one factory but two. Pavlov referred to the digestive system itself alternately as a "chemical factory" and a "laboratory." He ascribed to it the very same qualities that he did to successful human endeavors: both were "precise, regular, and purposeful."¹⁶ In laboratory investigations, the factory metaphor expressed and guided the search for pravil'nye results—for precise, repeated (or "stereotypical"), and purposeful patterns in the glandular responses of dogs to varying quantities of different foods. Pavlov never referred to his laboratory as a "factory"—to do so would have demystified the ethos that helped make it hum—but his management style and rhetoric clearly expressed his belief that "the marvelous mechanism" of the digestive system would reveal its secrets only to a laboratory endeavor that matched its most essential qualities.

FORCES OF PRODUCTION

Everything is in the method, in the chances of attaining a steadfast, lasting truth . . .

—Ivan Pavlov

The Factory Site

When the institute formally opened in 1891, Pavlov's Physiology Division occupied five rooms in the single wooden building that housed all the institute's scientific divisions. Pavlov used the smallest room for surgical operations and the four larger ones to house animals and conduct experiments. In addition to a laboratory budget more than five times greater than that of any other Russian physiologist, he had the use of two attendants, one paid assistant, and a growing number of praktikanty.¹⁷

However lavish by Russian standards, these facilities quickly came to seem cramped and inadequate. Designed as a workshop for a handful of men, they were soon swarming with praktikanty—twelve in 1892, seventeen in 1893—and the animals for their experiments.¹⁸ Furthermore, Pavlov's experiences with the Ekk fistula (which linked the portal vein with the inferior vena cava) soon convinced him that it was difficult or impossible to maintain the aseptic standards necessary for successful surgical operations in the single room available for that purpose.

The influx of praktikanty that caused these problems also cemented Pavlov's previously shaky loyalty to the institute. As an assistant in Botkin's clinical laboratory in the 1880s, Pavlov had supervised the doctoral research of many physicians but had been frustrated by Botkin's scientific-managerial style. Physician-investigators in that laboratory addressed a wide variety of topics—ranging from the pharmacological action of various substances to the mechanism of the coating of the tongue—complicating immeasurably Pavlov's task of seeing their research to a successful conclusion. Even before the institute formally opened, Pavlov had begun to work there with praktikanty who addressed topics of his own design. A friend recalled his response to the flood of praktikanty that soon followed: "When Pavlov became convinced that one could acquire here all the means for scientific work and that the physicians collaborating with him would be able to work without spending their own resources for experiments, that everything would be provided to him—dogs, feed, and, mainly, that he would have many coworkers—this bound him entirely to the institute."¹⁹

The space problem was resolved in 1893-1894, when an unexpected contribution from Alfred Nobel enabled the Physiology Division to become the institute's third scientific division to acquire a separate building. Perhaps motivated by the institute's efforts against the cholera epidemic that swept through his Baku oilfields in 1893, Nobel asked his nephew Emmanuel—one of several Nobels who built an oil-based industrial empire in Russia—to relay his intention to donate 10,000 rubles to the institute. This was an unconditional gift, but the ailing sixty-year-old philanthropist did express the hope that the beneficiary would address two questions that he found particularly pressing: Would transfusions of blood from a young, healthy animal (Nobel suggested a giraffe) revivify an ailing animal of the same, or another, species? Could the stomach of a healthy animal be transplanted to an ailing one with salutary effect? Emmanuel added a short cover note (mentioning Alfred's "interest in physiology") and forwarded his uncle's letter to Prince Ol'denburgskii, who, after receiving the tsar's permission, accepted the gift in August 1893.²⁰ Some months later Pavlov, who was temporarily filling in as institute director, formally thanked Nobel and informed him that his gift would be applied to the general needs of the institute. The money was, in fact, already being used to finance a two-story stone addition to Pavlov's laboratory.²¹

The new quarters, constructed under Pavlov's close supervision and completed in 1894, more than doubled the laboratory's space, allowing Pavlov more fully to implement his vision of the physiological enterprise. The basement became a full-service'kennel with individual cells for experimental animals, the first floor provided three more rooms for experiments, and the second floor housed a surgical and recovery complex that embodied Pavlov's commitment to investigating the normal functioning of organs through what he termed "physiological surgery" and the "chronic experiment." This expression of Pavlov's holism was central to laboratory production, so we must address it briefly here.

For Pavlov, the "chronic experiment" allowed the physiologist to investigate normal physiological processes that, he claimed, were often distorted during an "acute experiment" (a term he used synonymously with "vivisection"). In contrast to acute experiments—which were conducted upon animals immediately after an operation from which they were soon to die—chronic experiments began only after the animal had recovered from surgery and regained its "normal" physiological state. Acute experiments had their uses—and Pavlov employed them himself—but they yielded only "analytic" knowledge, not a "synthetic" understanding of the organism at work. Shortly after the completion of his new building, Pavlov explained that acute experiments conducted on a freshly operated-upon and bleeding animal that was either writhing in pain or heavily narcotized so distorted physiological processes that they led inevitably to "crude errors." It was impossible for the experimenter reliably to untangle the results of the operation itself from normal physiological functions. In chronic experiments, on the other hand, "the physiologist counts on the animal living after the removal of parts of organs, after the disturbance of connections between them, the establishment of a new connection, and so forth"—in other words, after a surgical procedure that afforded permanent access to the physiological processes of an animal that had been purposefully altered but remained essentially normal.²² The surgical and recovery complex, then, embodied Pavlov's view that it was necessary and possible to explore normal physiological processes—specifically, the responses of the digestive glands to various stimuli (for example, to teasing with food, the act of eating, or the passage of various foods through the digestive system).

The "normalcy" (normal'nost') of the experimental animals undergoing chronic experiments was, then, central to laboratory work and a source of authority for Pavlov's arguments vis-à-vis both physicians and other scientists. Physicians who drew upon clinical experience to dispute the laboratory's results were often reminded, in the sympathetic tones of a fellow medical man, that they encountered an impossibly complex mass of interconnected phenomena in their daily practice and that these could not be disentangled outside the laboratory.²³ Similarly, when the experimental results of other scientists conflicted with Pavlov's own, these could be explained (and either reconciled or dismissed) by reference to the physiological abnormalities that resulted from their crude acute experiments.

The notion of "normalcy" inevitably entailed a series of "interpretive moments." Pavlov acknowledged, as we have just seen, that physiological surgery and chronic experiments involved some departure from normal physiological relations ("removal of parts of organs,. .. disturbance of connections between them, the establishment of a new connection, and so forth"). Since the laboratory setting itself, to say nothing of the surgical operations performed there, always had some effect on the dog's behavior and reactions—how was one to determine whether the dog remained acceptably "normal"? For example, were a dog's digestive processes functioning normally if, after an operation, its appetite diminished, it accepted only one kind of food, or it lost weight? It fell, then, to the experimenter, the praktikant—within, as we shall see, a matrix of social relations in the laboratory—to answer such questions and to affirm the "normalcy" of an experimental dog.

Or to affirm its lack of normalcy. Pavlov and his coworkers were, after all, dealing with a large, complex organism; and pravil'nye results were inevitably difficult to obtain. Feeding two different dogs the identical quantity of the same food always produced somewhat different secretory results and sometimes radically different ones. Even the results of identical experiments on a single dog varied. For Pavlov (following Bernard), these variations reflected the "numberless factors" that concealed determined regularities behind a veil of apparent spontaneity. So, when two dogs yielded strikingly different results, one animal was pronounced relatively "normal" and the other relatively "abnormal." Divergent results with a single dog were handled similarly.²⁴

I shall discuss briefly the social-cognitive dynamics of this interpretive moment later in this essay; for now, we need only note that the notion of "normalcy" was simultaneously a laboratory goal, a reservoir of interpretive flexibility, and a source of authority for the laboratory's knowledge claims. To the outside world, Pavlov's laboratory consistently represented its experimental dogs as "normal"—as happy, energetic, and long lived. Within the laboratory, however, Pavlov and his coworkers struggled constantly to create and define "normalcy," while also exploiting fully the interpretive flexibility afforded by such judgments.

Since chronic experiments depended upon the animal surviving surgery, Pavlov conceded no essential difference between physiological surgery and clinical surgery upon humans. In his speech to the Society of Russian Physicians on "the surgical method of investigation of the secretory phenomena of the stomach" (1894), and more extensively in Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands (1897), he proudly presented the plan of his surgical ward—"the first case of a special operative division in a physiological laboratory." Dogs were washed and dried in one room, narcotized and prepared for surgery in a second, and operated upon in a third. A separate room was devoted to the sterilization of instruments, the surgeon, and his assistants. Separated from the surgical ward by a partition were individual recovery rooms for dogs. These were well lit and ventilated, heated with hot air, and washed by means of a water pipe with minute apertures—enabling rooms to be "copiously syringed from the corridor without [anyone] entering the room."²⁵ Figure 3, a posed photograph, communicates this essential identity between physiological and clinical surgery; looking at the photo, one realizes with a slight start that the patient is a dog.

For the physiologist to master nature's most complex phenomena, Bernard had argued, his workshop must be "the most complicated of all laboratories." In this spirit, Pavlov explained to the Society of Russian Physicians in 1894 that the demands of chronic experimentation—of this qualitative extension of the physiologist's grasp on the organic whole—required a radical expansion of the laboratory's physical plant. "In the final analysis the very type and character of physiological institutes should be changed; they should definitely include a surgical section answering the demands of surgical rooms in general." For physicians in his audience, this was yet another of Pavlov's constant injunctions that they use their social connections to secure greater financial support for physiology; for Russian physiologists, it was a reminder that only Pavlov possessed the resources to practice what he preached.²⁶

The Workforce

In the years 1891-1904 about a hundred people worked in Pavlov's laboratory. A small minority—about ten—were permanent or semipermanent staff: the chief (zaveduiushchii,) the assistants (pomoshchniki,) and the attendants (sluzhashchie.) The great majority were temporary investigators (praktikanty.)

As chief, Pavlov provided the laboratory's scientific-managerial vision and ruled in firm patriarchal fashion. He hired coworkers, assigned research topics, performed complex operations on dogs, participated in the praktikanty's experiments as he saw fit, edited and approved completed work, rewarded success and punished failure. His were the governing ideas in the laboratory, and he tolerated no alternatives. He was also the spokesman for the laboratory's achievements, defending his coworkers and explaining the broader significance of their work when they delivered papers or defended dissertations to outside audiences. Pavlov-himself wrote articles on a wide range of specialized subjects—including the nature of pepsin, the effect of hunger on the stomach, and the effects of a double vagotomy—but most important were his periodic publications synthesizing laboratory results and explaining their significance for physiology and medicine. In the years 1891-1904 these included "Vivisection" (1893), "On the Surgical Method of Investigation of the Secretory Phenomena of the Stomach" (1894), "On the Mutual Relations of Physiology and Medicine in Questions of Digestion" (1894-1895), Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands (1897), "The Contemporary Unifícation in Experiment of the Main Aspects of Medicine, as Exemplified by Digestion" (1899), "Physiological Surgery of the Digestive Canal" (1902), and, during the laboratory's transition to research on conditional reflexes, "The Psychical Secretion of the Salivary Glands (Complex Nervous Phenomena in the Work of the Salivary Glands)" (1904).

The great majority of the workforce were temporary investigators, praktikanty, drawn to the Physiology Division by the state medical policies I have described. Most came to Pavlov's laboratory between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five, during their first decade of work as practical physicians, and lacked training in physiology beyond that provided in a single medical school course. Many were military physicians, and all but one were male. They entered the laboratory from a wide range of medical settings: of the 75 percent for whom information is available, twenty-eight were physicians in St. Petersburg's hospitals and clinics (twelve of these in the clinics of the Military-Medical Academy), thirteen served in hospitals and clinics outside of the capital, ten came from the empire's academic institutions (universities and institutes), ten were rural physicians, and nine worked for the Medical Department of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The praktikanty were drawn almost entirely from the diverse middling social stratum known in Russia as the raznochintsy. Their nationality is often difficult to determine, but clearly the great majority were Russian and a disproportionate number were Jewish. Praktikanty usually spent one to two years in the laboratory, during which time about 75 percent wrote dissertations, defended them at the Military-Medical Academy, and received their doctorates in medicine.²⁷

The nature of this workforce—young and transient, largely untrained in physiology, and intent on gaining a quick doctoral degree—facilitated Pavlov's use of its members as extensions of his own eyes and hands. Consider longtime coworker Boris Babkin's perspicacious description of the most numerous contingent among the laboratory's praktikanty, military physicians pursuing their doctorates at the Military-Medical Academy:

About sixty or seventy of them were enrolled [in the academy] yearly, remaining for two years. During the first year they had to pass their examinations for the degree of doctor of medicine—a repetition of the state examinations—and during the second year they had to work in one of the academic clinics or laboratories, presenting the results of their clinical or experimental investigations in their M.D. [doctoral] thesis. The majority of the doctors attached to the academy were regimental doctors who had had no opportunity to work in the hospitals and to refresh their knowledge and perfect their medical skill. The greater part of the Russian army was stationed on different strategic borders, far from any cultural center, even of the most modest kind. Because of this, many of the military doctors, especially those who had been stationed for a long time in some dreary little town, were very backward in medicine and even more in science.

"Very backward in medicine and even more in science," these physicians provided the basic human "material," as another observer put it, for the production process.²⁸

The praktikanty were not, of course, an undifferentiated mass; and at special junctures in laboratory production—when the chief was engaged in "retooling"—he sometimes employed coworkers for their special expertise. For example, Pavel Khizhin's surgical skills and training played a critical role in the creation of a key dog-technology; and Pavlov's later transition to research on conditional reflexes owed much to perspectives he imported by recruiting the praktikanty Anton Snarskii and Ivan Tolochinov. These exceptions, however important, also illustrate the rule: when the physiology factory was operating normally, the praktikanty served as skilled hands.²⁹

The praktikanty conducted thousands of experiments in Pavlov's laboratory, painstakingly collecting, recording, measuring, and analyzing the dogs' secretory reactions to various excitants during experimental trials that often continued for eight or ten hours at a time. The strains of this work are clearly, and poignantly, evident in an obituary for Iulian Iablonskii, Pavlov's praktikant and assistant in 1891-1894, who died in 1898 after a protracted mental illness: "Increasingly fascinated by physiology, he soon decisively abandoned the clinic for the laboratory. For entire days he sat, collecting digestive juices, making calculations, and later, as an assistant to the professor, making necessary preparations for experiments and complex operations. In his third year . . . there appeared the first signs of overexhaustion, and then a sinister mental illness. Undoubtedly already ill, the deceased defended his dissertation and was sent to the provinces."³⁰ Iablonskii's fate was unique, but the rigorous work process he endured was not.

Pavlov also had at his disposal each year two paid assistants and one unpaid "member-coworker," who provided a relatively stable supervisory stratum amidst the transitory praktikanty. Although they conducted scientific research, their principal task was to incorporate praktikanty into the laboratory's productive process—to inculcate the laboratory's procedures and culture, facilitate the smooth progress of their work, and keep the chief informed of their abilities, progress, and problems.³¹ All but one of these assistants were physicians with a developing specialty of some use to the laboratory. V. N. Massen, a gynecologist, established the laboratory's initial aseptic and antiseptic procedures; N. I. Damaskin and E. A. Ganike were biochemists, and A. P. Sokolov brought a background in histology. Damaskin and G. A. Smirnov came to the laboratory with doctorates already in hand, while Massen, Iablonskii, and Sokolov acquired their doctorates for these researched there. None possessed a broad physiological education beyond that acquired at Pavlov's side. As long-standing members of the laboratory, Ganike, Sokolov, and Smirnov became bearers of its institutional memory.

This was especially true of Ganike. Arriving at the Physiology Division in 1894 from the collapsed Syphilology Division, he remained Pavlov's close collaborator until the chief's death in 1936. Ganike's background in chemistry and his "unusual technical inventiveness" made him the laboratory's resident technician and problem solver. He was also Pavlov's all-purpose right-hand man and chief supervisor. Ganike handled the laboratory budget, supervised its chief moneymaking enterprise, and drafted the annual reports for the chief's approval. He also enjoyed a close personal relationship with Prince Ol'denburgskii. When Pavlov was absent or busy, it was Ganike, whom the prince addressed with the familiar "ty, " who represented the Physiology Division at meetings of the institute's governing council. Self-effacing, intensely private, and devoted to Pavlov, Ganike left only the skimpiest of memoirs, but Babkin, who worked with him closely, has provided the following portrait:

Ganike was an exceptional person. He was extremely original and at the same time one of the most modest, cultured, well-bred and honorable of men. He was a bachelor and lived in the Institute of Experimental Medicine. He worked at night and slept most of the day, arriving at the laboratory about 3 or even 5 in the afternoon. He was very musical and played the violon-cello in the laboratory at night to an accompaniment provided by a mechanical device. For his accompaniment he cut out notes in paper tape and inserted this in a special mechanical piano, which was set in motion by an electric motor, while he himself played the solo part on his violoncello.³²

That Pavlov, who demanded punctuality and regularity from his coworkers, accepted Ganike's nocturnal ways speaks volumes about the taciturn assistant's value to the laboratory. The other long-term workers in the laboratory were the attendants charged with caring for the dogs and preparing them for experiments, assisting during surgical procedures, troubleshooting at the bench, keeping the laboratory in order, and other miscellaneous tasks. Several attendants worked in the laboratory for many years, accumulating important craft knowledge. One praktikant recalled that two attendants, Nikolai Kharitonov and a certain Timofei, thus became "indispensable participants in each experiment, and such active participants that they were not so much helpers as, rather, almost the directors." Another praktikant wrote of Kharitonov and a younger attendant, Ivan Shuvalov, that their accumulated experience with the sometimes puzzling behavior of dogs and fistulas enabled them to provide in many cases absolutely invaluable assistance." They also became the chiefs valued assistants during surgical operations. Pavlov's wife, Serafima, later recalled that when Kharitonov was absent "it was as if Ivan Petrovich [Pavlov] had lost his hands." When Kharitonov grew too old, Shuvalov assumed this task, which required some knowledge of the irascible chief as well:

It was not easy to assist Pavlov when he was operating. He did not like to call out the name of the instrument he wanted at a given moment or to say what he would do next, and at the same-time he was extremely impatient. The instruments were handed to him by the very able young laboratory attendant, Vania [Ivan] Shuvalov, who knew the operational procedures perfectly and handed Pavlov the required instrument at the right moment. But [in Shuvalov's absence] the assistants, especially the newcomers, often failed to give Pavlov the help he wanted or did so at the wrong time. Then he would push the assistant's hand away and say: "1 speak with my hands—you must get used to that," or he would begin to mutter irritably: "Well, hold this, hold this," or some such words. He had no patience with new assistants . . . and they would feel altogether at a loss during an operation and would give him even less help than they were capable of.³³

. . . The laboratory workforce, then, consisted of the chief, the assistants, the attendants, and the praktikanty—all with their prescribed roles. Before we can explore their interaction in the laboratory's productive process, however, we must introduce its last and by no means least, participant.

The Laboratory Dog as Technology and Organism

At the center of the productive process were laboratory dogs modified by ingenious surgical procedures to Pavlov's investigative ends. In the physiology factory, these dogs were simultaneously technologies, physiological objects of study, and products.³⁴ I shall defer discussion of dogs-as-products and explore here their dual character in the production process itself.

Laboratory dogs were technologies (or "intermediate products") created in the laboratory to produce something else—as in a factory that assembles machines for the manufacture of another product. As Bruno Latour puts it, "you cannot make the facts if you do not have the machines, any more than you can make iron without the big furnaces and the big hammers." Laboratory dogs were particular kinds of "machines" designed and produced in the laboratory to generate particular kinds of facts. As with any technology, their existence and design influenced the organization and nature of the work process. As intermediate products, these dogs also created "local knowledge" and rendered problematic the replication of laboratory results by others. Physiologists incapable of creating, say, a dog with an isolated stomach could reproduce the laboratory's experiments only by acquiring a dog from Pavlov or journeying to St. Petersburg. These dogs were also pedagogical technologies, serving as "wonderful material in all regards for teaching," and so were "no less indispensable for university laboratories than the most important physiological apparatuses."³⁵

I distinguish between the laboratory dog as "technology" and as "physiological object of study" to emphasize that it remained a living, functioning, and infinitely complex organism. Designed to perform "normally" in laboratory experiments, the laboratory dog possessed biological attributes that often complicated its use as a technology for the production of pravil'nye facts. This tension between dog-as-technology and dog-as-organism was rooted both in the laboratory dog's "lifestyle" and in the confrontation between its biological complexity and Pavlov's scientific vision. We shall be prepared to explore this tension after a closer look at the principles and practices of physiological surgery.

The varied operations performed in Pavlov's surgical ward to produce a laboratory dog for chronic experiments were developed to satisfy three basic criteria: the animal must recover to full health and its digestive system must return to normal functioning; the product of the digestive gland must be rendered accessible to the experimenter at any time for measurement and analysis; and the reagent in that glandular product must be obtainable in pure form, undiluted by food or the secretions of other glands. For Pavlov, a convinced "nervist," the digestive system could function normally only if surgical operations left intact the basic nervous relations that controlled physiological processes.³⁶

The simplest and most common operation was implantation of a fistula to draw a portion of salivary, gastric, or pancreatic secretions to the surface of the dog's body, where it could be collected and analyzed. Fistulas were not original to Pavlov's laboratory; for each digestive gland, however, he and his coworkers refined the operation to meet the three criteria I have enumerated.³⁷ This proved relatively simple with the gastric and salivary glands. Gastric and salivary fistulas diverted only a small portion of glandular secretions to the surface, so any disturbance to normal digestive processes was presumably minimal; both could be opened or closed at the experimenter's discretion, and neither resulted in any visible pathological symptoms.

The creation of a "normal" dog with a pancreatic fistula, however, posed great difficulties. Pavlov himself had devised one procedure in 1880 and assigned several praktikanty to improve it in the 1890s; but he conceded even in 1902 that, despite "much labor and attention," the pancreatic fistula left much to be desired. The problem resided in the complex "physiological connections of this gland" and in the constant leakage of pancreatic juice from the fistulized dog. Escaping pancreatic ferments macerated the abdominal wall, causing ulceration and bleeding; and the chronic loss of pancreatic fluid undermined the dog's health in dramatic and mysterious ways. Animals often suddenly fell ill a few weeks or even months after the operation, losing their appetites and developing various nervous disturbances; sometimes "acute general weakness" was followed by fibrillations and death.³⁷ Conceding that the pancreatic fistula was "not ideal," Pavlov insisted that its usefulness was nevertheless clear in "the numerous, clear, indubitable, and decisive results of investigations." The "normalcy" of these dog-technologies always remained problematic.³⁸

A second standard operation was the esophagotomy, which Pavlov and his collaborator E. O. Shumova-Simanovskaia had used in combination with the gastric fistula in 1889-1890 to obtain pure gastric juice from an intact and functioning dog. The esophagotomy involved dividing the gullet in the neck and causing its divided ends to heal separately into an angle of the skin incision. This accomplished "the complete anatomical separation of the cavities of the mouth and stomach," allowing the experimenter to analyze the reaction of the gastric glands to the act of eating. Food swallowed by an esophagotomized dog fell out of the opening from the mouth cavity to the neck rather than proceeding down the digestive tract. Since the dog chewed and swallowed, but the food never reached its stomach, this procedure was termed "sham feeding." Sham feeding an esophagotomized dog equipped with a gastric fistula gave the experimenter access to the gastric secretions produced during the act of eating. The experimenter then collected these secretions through the fistula at five-minute intervals, later measuring them and analyzing their contents. This dog-technology allowed the experimenter to collect virtually unlimited quantities of gastric juice and to analyze the secretory results of the act of eating. Since ingested food never reached the stomach, however, it did not permit investigation of gastric secretion during the second phase of normal digestion, when food was present in the stomach.

This task was addressed by the complex dog-technology that soon became both a symbol of Pavlov's surgical virtuosity and the source of the laboratory's cardinal theoretical achievements. In 1894, after a series of frustrating failures, Khizhin and Pavlov created "the remarkable Druzhok" with an "isolated stomach" (or "Pavlov sac"). The dog's name, which means "Little Friend," reflected the exhilaration, relief, and gratitude with which Pavlov and his collaborators greeted the dog's survival after surgery. The isolated stomach operation was difficult and complex, but the principle behind it was simple.

The goal was surgically to create an isolated pocket in part of a dog's stomach—and to do so in such a way that, after the dog's recovery, the entire stomach continued to work normally while this "small stomach" could be studied separately. As Pavlov explained to the Society of Russian Physicians:

The stomach is divided into two parts; a large part, which remains in place and serves as the normal continuation of the digestive canal; and another, smaller part, completely fenced off from the rest of the stomach and having an opening to the surface, through the abdominal wall. The essential thing in this operation is that in one part of this small stomach the fence [separating it from the large stomach] is formed only of mucous membrane while the muscle and serous layers are preserved, because through them passes the vague nerve, which is the main secretory nerve of the gastric glands. In this manner we acquire in an isolated part of the stomach a completely normal innervation, which gives us the right to take the secretory activity of this part as a true representation of the work of the entire stomach.³⁹

Food, then, came into direct contact only with the large stomach, but it would excite presumably normal gastric secretion in both this large stomach and the isolated sac. Since the isolated stomach remained uncontaminated by food and the products of other glands, the experimenter could extract pure glandular secretions through a glass tube and analyze the secretory responses to various foods during the "normal" digestive process.

Pavlov was not the first to create an isolated stomach, but his substantial variation upon that developed by Rudolf Klemensiewicz (1875) and Rudolf Heidenhain (1879) reflected his nervism. Heidenhain doubted that central nervous mechanisms played an important role in gastric secretion, and so the "Heidenhain stomach" involved transection of the vagus nerves. For Pavlov, however, this transection rendered the "Heidenhain stomach" abnormal. He therefore modified Heidenhain's operation, making it "more difficult" but preserving vagal innervation. Two related assumptions were built into the "Pavlov stomach": that exciters of the gastric glands did not act locally (in just one part of the stomach) but, rather, generally (distributing any excitation to the small sac as well); and that mechanical stimulation of the stomach wall played no role in gastric secretion (since such stimulation was exerted by food upon the large stomach, but not upon the isolated sac). These assumptions contradicted a loose consensus among physiologists and a firm one among physicians, yet they were central to Pavlov's claim that what took place in the isolated sac mirrored normal digestive processes.⁴⁰

Pavlov cultivated the image of laboratory dogs that, after recovering from these surgical operations, led normal, "happy" lives. The reality was somewhat different. For one thing, many dogs died as Pavlov and his coworker developed new surgical procedures. About twenty perished before Khizhin and Pavlov successfully created an isolated stomach, and an untold number were sacrificed during attempts over more than a decade to perfect the pancreatic fistula. Survivors usually developed fatal conditions long before their natural lifespan had expired: the isolated stomach would slip or become infected, the pancreatic fistula would lead to various illnesses, spasms, softening of the bones, and a terrible death. In 1897 Pavlov referred proudly in his Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands to the fact that one dog (Druzhok) had lived for two and a half years with an isolated sac. He assured his readers that the operation did not bring in its wake "any sensory unpleasantness, to say nothing of danger to the life of the animal operated upon."⁴¹ By this time, however, it was obvious to Andrei Volkovich, the praktikant then working with Druzhok, that this assertion was—at least in spirit—untrue. The severe deterioration of Druzhok's isolated stomach had rendered the dog useless for experimentation. Furthermore, the erratic functioning of Druzhok's gastric glands led Volkovich to speculate that the abnormal manner in which the dog had been fed for years (through a fistula) had caused the glands to "gradually atrophy." Pavlov himself observed in 1898 that, after acquiring an isolated sac, dogs tended "to lie on their backs with their legs up," apparently because they experienced "unpleasant or painful sensations when in a normal position."⁴² Thus the relative "normalcy" of these dogs, like that of the dogs with pancreatic fistulas, remained a matter of interpretation.

Whether or not they were happy and normal, the dogtechnologies used in chronic experiments lived much longer than those consumed in acute experiments; and this facilitated a relationship with experimenters that sometimes resembled that between pet and master.⁴³ Each dog received a name and manifested an identifiable personality (lichnost'). This simultaneously rendered the dogs both more and less "normal." On the one hand, what better testimony to a dog's "normalcy" than a recognizable personality? On the other, personalities varied, and that of any single dog inevitably influenced the results of experimental trials—making the results, if not "abnormal," at least somewhat idiosyncratic and subject to interpretation.

Had laboratory dogs been simple, ideal mechanical technologies, the praktikant' s task would have been relatively straightforward: turn them on under conditions prescribed by the chief, then measure and analyze the secretory results. The contradictory nature of these laboratory animals, however, and the drive to gain from them pravil'nye results, inevitably entailed a series of interpretive moments.⁴⁴ The "numberless factors" presumed to conceal pravil'nye results were frequently identified with a dog's psyche and individual personality.

Pavlov characterized the psyche as a "dangerous" "source of error" in experiments on digestive secretion. The dog's "thoughts about food" threatened constantly to introduce the "arbitrary rule of chance" to experiments and so to produce "completely distorted results." Only through the "complete exclusion of psychic influence" could experimenters uncover the otherwise factory-like regularity of the digestive machine. So, praktikanty conducting chronic experiments came to work in separate, isolated rooms and were enjoined to "carefully avoid everything that could elicit in the dog thoughts about food." Such procedures, however, could not, even in principle, exclude the psyche from chronic experiments, since a dog's personality and food tastes shaped the "psychic secretion" that constituted the first phase of its response to a meal. In chronic experiments, then, the idiosyncratic psyche acquired "flesh and blood," and its results were incorporated into descriptions of the pravil'nye processes of the digestive machine.⁴⁵

So familiar were the secretory consequences of a dog's psyche and personality that, as one praktikant wrote in 1896, "it is taken as a rule in the laboratory to study the tastes of the dogs under investigation." Some dogs had pronounced food preferences; others refused the horse meat offered in the laboratory or ate it without enthusiasm. "In such picky dogs sham feeding with an unpleasant or even undistinguished food produces an extremely weak [secretory] effect." Inattention to the individual "character" (kharakter) of dogs, he continued, explained the inability of some Western European scientists to elicit gastric secretion by teasing a dog with food:

Dogs exhibit a great variety of characters, which it is well to observe in their relation to food and manner of eating. There are passionate dogs, especially young ones, who are easily excited by the sight of food and are easily subject to teasing; others, to the contrary, have great self-possession and respond with great restraint to teasing with food. Finally, with certain dogs it is as if they understand the deceit being perpetrated upon them and turn their back on the proferred food, apparently from a sense of insult. These dogs only react to food when it falls into their mouth. . . . Certain dogs are distinguished by a very suspicious or fearful character and only gradually adapt to the laboratory setting and the procedures performed upon them; it stands to reason that the depressed state of these dogs does not facilitate the success of experiments. The age of dogs is also important in determining their character: the older the dog the more restrained and peaceful it is, and vice versa.⁴⁶

The acknowledged importance of the dog's psyche and individual character made these not only the "main enemy" of the experimenter seeking pravil'nye results, but also his "best friend" when attempting to reconcile conflicting data with laboratory doctrine. As we shall see, judgments about the individual particularities of one's experimental animal invariably played a part in the interpretation of data.

By their very nature, then, laboratory dogs constantly generated not "clean" quantitative data but, rather, complexities engendering interpretive flexibility. This was fully recognized in the laboratory, raising a question about the work process there: How could the praktikant—a mass of "borrowed senses" fit only for simple observation—render the interpretive judgments appropriate only for the chief's "directing mind"?

RELATIONS OF PRODUCTION

With a good method, even a rather untalented person can accomplish much.

—Ivan Pavlov

We, the Laboratory

The workforce in Pavlov's physiology factory was bound together by an authoritarian structure and cooperative ethos. The chief's administrative authority was absolute: he hired and fired, assigned research tasks, decided when a task had been satisfactorily completed, and determined whether a praktikant would receive his doctorate. His intellectual authority was also, of course, considerable—by virtue of his knowledge, experience, and administrative power. The atmosphere of free, cooperative inquiry in the laboratory permitted coworkers to disagree openly with Pavlov on scientific questions, although the chiefs legendary temper could make this extremely unpleasant. Laboratory glasnost both suited the spirit of scientific inquiry and socialized the laboratory's cognitive process, serving as one of several means by which the chief's "directing mind" presided over the interpretive moments inherent to experimental trials. Institutional realities and the career trajectory of the praktikanty—who lacked physiological education and were chiefly interested in quick doctoral degrees—shaped the results of this mixture of authority and cooperation. Praktikanty came and went, but "we, the laboratory" remained.⁴⁷

The laboratory's cooperative ethos was embodied in Pavlov's addition to the institute's statues of one rule specific to the Physiology Division: "Every praktikant is required to participate in the work of his comrades, specifically when there is being conducted a complex experiment or operation demanding a large number of assistants, greater than the constant paid contingent in the laboratory." Praktikanty frequently paid tribute to this ethos in memoirs and acknowledgments, of which the following, written in 1894, is typical: "My fervent thanks to the profoundly esteemed professor Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, according to whose thought and guidance this work was conducted; and whose active participation and precious help greeted its every step. . . . [My thanks also] .. . to all the laboratory comrades, who always came to my aid enthusiastically as a result of both their personal goodwill and the principle of broad mutual aid that reigns in Professor Pavlov's laboratory."⁴⁸

Laboratory glasnost meant that scientific issues were openly discussed among praktikanty in general meetings and in one-to-one sessions with Pavlov. As one praktikant recalled, "everybody felt himself a member of one common family and learned much, studied much, knowing the course of the work of his comrades. No secrets were permitted."⁴⁹ The interaction of these two dimensions of laboratory life—glasnost and Pavlov's immense authority—was central to the productive process, allowing Pavlov to direct, monitor, and process the research of the fifteen or so praktikanty who worked for him at any one time and to incorporate the observations of their "borrowed senses" into ongoing laboratory traditions.

Pavlov always openly and proudly acknowledged that the data for his own general works were obtained almost entirely by his praktikanty, whom he credited by name for specific results and technical innovations. He himself, however, took credit for the laboratory's methodologies, thus implicitly assuming much credit for his praktikanty's achievements. "With a good method," he once remarked in a lecture, "even a rather untalented person can accomplish much." Furthermore, the concepts that gave these results meaning belonged to "the laboratory." As Pavlov put it in the preface to Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands:

In the text of the lectures .. . I use the word "we," that is, I speak in the person of the entire laboratory. Citing constantly the authors of specific experiments, 1 discuss jointly the experiment's purpose, sense, and place among other experiments, without citing the authors of opinions and views. I think it is useful for the reader to have before him the unfolding of a single idea increasingly embodied in tenable and harmoniously linked experiments. This basic view that permeates everything is, of course, the view of the laboratory, encompassing its every fact, constantly tested, frequently corrected, and, consequently, the most correct. This view is also, of course, the deed of my coworkers, but it is a general deed, the deed of the entire laboratory atmosphere in which everybody gives something of himself and breathes it all in.

Looking upon everything the laboratory has accomplished in our field, I value especially the participation of each separate worker and therefore feel the need on this occasion to send to all my dear coworkers, scattered throughout the broad expanses of our motherland, heartiest greetings from the laboratory which they, I hope, remember as it does them.⁵⁰

This citation goes to the heart of the division of labor and intellectual property. For Pavlov, "we, the laboratory" involved the collective work of all its personnel over the years, but he himself provided its stable personal and interpretive identity (the others were soon "scattered throughout the broad expanses of our motherland"). The experiments belonged to the praktikant, but the "basic view" or "single idea" that united them and gave them meaning belonged to "the laboratory," that is, to Pavlov himself. At the same time, his constant references to "the laboratory's view" and to the experiments of various praktikanty gave Pavlov's conclusions greater authority, portraying them as the results of collective thinking and independent experimentation by numerous individuals on countless dogs.

These values were embodied in the highly standardized structure and language of laboratory dissertations. These invariably began with a review of previous literature that developed into a rationale for "Professor Pavlov's proposal" that the praktikant investigate a particular issue in a particular manner.⁵¹ The impression created is captured nicely by the words with which one of Pavlov's favorite praktikanty concluded this section of his thesis: 'To the author of the present work fell the happiness of participating in the elaboration of a small part of this great task: Professor Ivan Petrovich Pavlov proposed that . . ." In the body of the dissertations, the word I appears almost exclusively with reference to specific observations or to the actual process of conducting experiments; either the passive voice, the word we, or the name of the chief himself is attached to conclusions and ideas. So, for example, A. S. Sanotskii (1892) writes that "I tested the influence of teasing with meat" and refers to "my observations," "my experiments," and so forth; but "we have a right to conclude," "we come to the conclusion," and so on.⁵² Pavlov's central role in the interpretive moments arising during the praktikant's work was acknowledged in standard phrases: "suggestion of the theme," "constant guidance and aid in word and deed," "constant participation and warm attention." The chief no doubt expected such phrases, yet this was not the empty rhetoric of obeisance. It reflected, rather, Pavlov's extraordinary energy and engagement and a production system that made him an active participant at critical junctures in the praktikant's work.

Lines of Investigation

Pavlov's scientific-managerial vision meshed with the workforce at his disposal in a system of production that gave both the chief and most praktikanty what they most wanted. For Pavlov, the praktikanty were set to work on his own scientific vision, multiplying his sensory reach manyfold while enabling him constantly to monitor the work process and its results, to incorporate these into his developing ideas, and to convert them efficiently into marketable products. For the praktikant, this system provided a sometimes exciting investigatory experience and justified the confident expectation "that after one year in Pavlov's laboratory the thesis would be written and the degree of doctor of medicine would be received."⁵³ This doctoral thesis originated in Pavlov's scientific-managerial vision, by which he generated an endless series of topics that, within his laboratory system, could be quickly and successfully completed by a praktikant with no prior physiological training.

A fundamental, unalterable principle was that Pavlov assigned all research topics. One praktikant later recalled that Pavlov appreciated initiative among his coworkers, but "he could not give it a wide range, since this would interfere with the development of his scientific idea, which proceeded according to a set plan." A coworker could express a desire or intention, and this might be sanctioned temporarily if it corresponded with Pavlov's plans. Otherwise, should the praktikant contest the point, "there arose an argument that rarely ended with the victory of the coworker." Another coworker recalled that "when a young scientist had matured and was able to formulate his own ideas and plans for research, work with Pavlov became difficult. Subjects that had no direct relation to the work of the laboratory did not interest him, and often he would even refuse to discuss them."⁵⁴

By what rationale did Pavlov assign topics? Wandering into his laboratory in any year, one would find praktikanty engaged in a wide variety of subjects. If we look at the chronological development of research topics, however, Pavlov's "set plan," and the reason for his insistence on assigning research topics, is readily apparent. In the years 1891-1904 the topics assigned to praktikanty reflected a standardized approach to the main digestive organs (the gastric glands, the pancreatic gland, and, somewhat less and somewhat later, the salivary and intestinal glands). Research on each organ followed a general sequence: establish nervous control over the gland, develop an appropriate dog-technology, identify the specific exciters of glandular secretion, establish quantitatively the pravil'nye patterns of glandular activity, and verify the "stereotypicity" of these secretory responses. Research on the different glands proceeded in parallel, each providing models for research on the others. Alongside these principal lines of investiga-, tion, praktikanty were often assigned topics designed to fortify the Physiology Division's institutional position, explore possible new research paths, respond to critics of laboratory doctrine, or examine puzzling results that lay off the main investigative paths.

When these lines of investigation developed normally, Pavlov never assigned two different praktikanty to the same topic simultaneously. This made good sense, since one praktikant's results were a necessary prelude to the research of the next along the standardized route of investigation. This practice also required the chief to interpret only a single set of experimental results at a time. Pavlov departed from it only three times: in assignments for work on the pathology of the digestive system in 1898-1900; on the psychic secretions of the salivary gland, beginning in 1903; and on the influence of nerves and humors upon pancreatic secretion in 1902. In the first two cases, he was considering a major shift in the focus of laboratory work and quickly generalized initial results in a public speech hailing the dawn of a new era not just for his laboratory but for physiology itself. In the third case, Pavlov was responding to the discovery of secretin—a major blow to the nervist views underlying laboratory work.

This scientific-managerial strategy can be illustrated by a brief look at work assignments concerning the pancreas. Before acquiring his laboratory at the institute, Pavlov had traversed the first part of his standard investigatory path, demonstrating to his own satisfaction that the vagus and sympathetic nerves controlled pancreatic secretion. Animals with a pancreatic fistula, however, died unexpectedly and were still considered insufficiently "normal" for chronic experiments. The main task, then, was to improve this dog-technology. In the Physiology Division's first year (1891), Pavlov assigned two praktikanty to this objective—one to develop a better fistula, the other to explore various dietary means to keep animals with pancreatic fistulas alive. In 1894 and 1895, armed with the results of this research, Pavlov assigned new praktikanty to test likely exciters of pancreatic secretion. By this time, experiments with Druzhok had convinced Pavlov that the gastric glands responded to specific foods with specific secretory patterns; in 1896 he assigned an especially promising praktikant, A. A. Val'ter, to find similar patterns in the pancreatic gland. When Val'ter succeeded in doing so, Pavlov assigned A. R. Krever to confirm his results. Two other praktikanty elucidated mechanisms of nervous control.⁵⁵

Two interesting observations about Pavlov's scientific-managerial style emerge here. First, Pavlov assigned Krever to verify Val'ter's results in 1898—a year after Pavlov had showcased those results in his own Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands. Indeed, Pavlov declared Val'ter's results "stereotypical" even before Val'ter had managed to complete his thesis, let alone before Krever's (as it turned out, tortured) confirmation of them. This raises an obvious question about the process and meaning of such verification. Second, since Pavlov was satisfied by 1897 that research on the pancreas had confirmed that, like the gastric glands, it produced precise, purposive secretory reactions to various foods, laboratory research on this gland was slowing by the end of the century. New praktikanty were assigned instead to other topics (for example, to the study of intestinal secretions and to the interaction of the glands). This changed suddenly in 1902, with William Bayliss and Ernest Starling's announcement of a humoral mechanism for pancreatic secretion. Pavlov immediately assigned several praktikanty (P. Borisov, A. A. Val'ter, V. V. Savich, and Ia. A. Bukhshtab in 1902) to investigate this challenge to his nervism and to repair Val'ter's earlier findings in light of this and other new developments.⁵⁶

This great productive capacity and flexibility was an important advantage of factory production. Pavlov was able to develop concurrently his standardized line of investigation for each gland while also using incoming praktikanty to respond quickly to critics, new developments, and simply curious phenomena. No workshop physiologist could do so. Furthermore, the chief's position in the factory afforded him a "panoramic view." Moving at will from one praktikant's work to another's, he could concentrate his own efforts on the key task of the moment while keeping his eye on synthetic possibilities. He confided to his son some years later that "I have turned this into a system. If I did not move simultaneously from one work to another I would never have been able to conduct one work as successfully as I now conduct tens of them."⁵⁷ We now look more closely at the managerial system by which Pavlov "conducted" the research of his praktikanty.

Working for Pavlov

Upon entering the physiology factory, the praktikant was incorporated into a highly structured production system that harnessed his "borrowed senses" to Pavlov's "directing mind." Little was left to chance. An attendant cared for the praktikant's dog and provided the craft skills necessary at the bench; an assistant socialized him into laboratory culture, familiarized him with necessary procedures and interpretive models, and supervised his work; and, when experimental results proved baffling, "all physiological difficulties were solved by Pavlov or his assistant."⁵⁸

Typically, a physician desiring to work in the laboratory made his application directly to Pavlov, who interviewed and quickly accepted him. Sometimes the laboratory was filled to capacity and a strong letter of recommendation was necessary for an applicant to gain admission.⁵⁹ Pavlov was chiefly concerned in the interview to begin sizing up the applicant's ability and to establish that the praktikant would be completely at his disposal.

Once accepted, the praktikant was assigned to an assistant, under whose watchful eye he spent several weeks or even months familiarizing himself with laboratory procedures. This lengthy period both facilitated his socialization into laboratory life and gave Pavlov and his assistant an opportunity to determine an appropriate work assignment. As Babkin observed:

This lengthy ordeal to which the worker had to submit was partly due to the fact that, according to Pavlov, one of the most difficult tasks which devolved on him as laboratory chief was the choice of problems for his co-workers. He gave most careful thought to each question that he was planning to investigate with a new collaborator and worked out a preliminary plan in his mind, but all this required time.⁶⁰

Babkin's choice of words here—his reference to problems that Pavlov "was planning to investigate with a new collaborator"—is most appropriate.

The praktikant's socialization involved all aspects of laboratory culture. During his first few weeks in the laboratory, he observed the experiments of other coworkers and imbibed general laboratory values. For example, upon arriving thirty minutes late to the laboratory one day, the new praktikant I. S. Tsitovich found his assistant, A. P. Sokolov, waiting for him: "With his very first words Sokolov criticized my half-hour tardiness. I was a little insulted by such captiousness, which I ascribed to hostility on his part. Later I became convinced that his criticism was fully deserved, since Ivan Petrovich and the entire laboratory worked like the mechanism of a watch. With the laboratory's strict discipline my lateness really could not be justified."⁶¹ Tsitovich also learned, to his surprise, that a mere praktikant had the right to disagree with the chief, and he cheerfully engaged in his first exchanges with Pavlov regarding scientific developments.

After a few weeks the praktikant received his own dog, either that of a departing investigator or, if a new animal was required, one prepared surgically by Pavlov or an assistant. The choice of dog reflected Pavlov's decision about which line of investigation the praktikant would pursue. Under the assistant's eye, the praktikant now familiarized himself thoroughly with the appropriate techniques. He also read the "relevant literature"—which consisted almost exclusively of reports of previous work in Pavlov's laboratory—thus further familiarizing himself with the chief's expectations. Pavlov sometimes stopped by his bench for a moment or two and conferred with the assistant about the praktikant's progress.

When both assistant and chief judged the praktikant ready for work and had sized up his abilities, Pavlov assigned him a specific task. Work began under careful supervision. Tsitovich's recollection is typical: "The assistant related to me in great detail how and what I must observe, how to take notes on the experiment, how to avoid extraneous influences [on the dog]." Chronic experiments demanded a great deal of patience and self-discipline, often compelling the praktikant to sit virtually motionless for hours. (Pavlov later liked to recount an anecdote about walking into an experimental room to find both dog and praktikant asleep at the job.) The ability to endure these lengthy periods of observation and collection was the chief obstacle between the praktikant and his doctoral degree. Possessing a surgically prepared dog and an expertly defined topic, and guided by attendants, assistants, and the chief himself, "all that was necessary for a doctor's success was that he should perform his work carefully, bringing to it all his concentration and understanding."⁶²

The relationship between observation and interpretation, however, is rarely that simple, especially within a context that locates the two in different personages. In Pavlov's physiology factory, this relationship was shaped by two interactions: that between Pavlov and the praktikant, and that between the praktikant and his laboratory dog(s).

Pavlov and the Praktikant

Pavlov's presence permeated the laboratory daily. Unless he was lecturing at the Military-Medical Academy, he arrived at the laboratory between 9:30 and 10:00 A.M., immediately checking the coatrack in the entrance hallway to ascertain who was present and who was not. "He never missed a day at the laboratory and did not like anybody to be absent or late."

When in the mornings he entered, or, more correctly, ran into the laboratory, there streamed in with him force and energy; the laboratory literally enlivened, and this heightened businesslike tone and work tempo was maintained until his . . . departure; but even then, at the door, he would sometimes rapidly deliver instructions regarding what remained to do immediately and how to begin the following day. He brought to the laboratory his entire personality, both his ideas and his moods. He discussed with all his coworkers everything that came into his mind. He loved arguments, he loved arguers and would egg them on.⁶³

Pavlov spent his mornings and afternoons attending to the work of one or more praktikanty—observing, commenting, and participating in experiments if moved to do so. About fifteen praktikanty were working in the laboratory simultaneously, but Pavlov managed to make himself a presence in the work of each, although he singled out one or two whose work interested him especially at any given time. At the very least, the chief dropped by occasionally to check the protocols; if the experiments proved exceptionally interesting he often worked alongside.

From the moment that a problem was assigned to a worker, Pavlov took a most active interest in it and inquired about its progress almost daily. Often he would sit for an hour or more in the worker's room observing an experiment. He would examine the protocols and often remembered the figures previously obtained better than did the worker himself. Finally, if he was especially interested in the work, he would participate in the experiments himself.⁶⁴

The memoir literature makes clear that Pavlov used his sessions with praktikanty to exercise a steady influence upon both the course of experiments and the interpretation of their results. L. A. Orbeli recalled that

in regard to the correctness of the [experimental] protocols, Ivan Petrovich was very demanding. He did not limit himself to asking how things were going. He would take the notebook with the protocols and begin to look through it. He might ask one of the workers how much juice he had acquired over a quarter of an hour. He would then take the notebook and check. If the verbal answer conflicted with the notes in the protocols, even by several tenths [of a cubic centimeter], the session would end with a dressing down. He knew how to retain in his memory for several days or weeks the most minor details of a work, and sometimes would recall that "at such and such a time an experiment yielded such and such figures." This extraordinary demandingness, perspicacity, and attention to the protocols; this extraordinary memory for all the details of the work conducted in his laboratory, was Ivan Petrovich's unique quality.⁶⁵

Aside from these one-to-one sessions, there were frequent laboratory-wide discussions, which Pavlov would initiate sometimes in the division's common room and sometimes by drawing others into his discussion with a single praktikant. V. P. Kashkadamov, who worked in the laboratory from 1895 to 1897, recalled:

Not less than once a week he would confer with each of us and attempt to draw all the workers into these discussions. Thanks to this we were always aware of all the work being conducted in the laboratory. All facts were subjected to an allsided discussion and to the strictest criticism. If the slightest carelessness, inattentive relationship to work, or hurried conclusion was revealed Ivan Petrovich would hurl himself upon the guilty party and criticize him sharply. Such sharpness, especially at first, offended me, and I reacted to it very painfully. Then, when I became convinced that Ivan Petrovich's rage cooled in fifteen minutes and he forgot about it entirely, relating to the guilty party as he had previously, I came to regard it much more calmly.

Orbeli recalled similarly that, excited about a new fact or observation gathered at a praktikant's side, Pavlov would wander from room to room, informing all the coworkers about the event and its significance. "Having established an important proposition or having noticed a new fact, he would call everybody together and begin a public discussion on the spot. This habit (thinking publicly) facilitated the precision of his ideas and thoughts, and also attracted the coworkers to the work."⁶⁶

These discussions also helped the chief direct the work of his subordinates and unite the laboratory behind a single perspective: "each scientific fact, achievement or error was heatedly discussed at our daily general meetings. . . . Everybody knew what others were working on, what interpretation to ascribe to new facts, how one could interpret them otherwise, what perspectives were revealing what results."⁶⁷ In the great majority of cases, Pavlov's guidance was exercised smoothly, as his greater authority, knowledge, and commitment allowed him to dominate free-ranging discussions and shape the interpretation of data.

Sometimes, however, the praktikant proved less pliable, eliciting the chief's intolerant, even belligerent, reaction to results and interpretations that contradicted his own views. For example, in 1901 a self-confident praktikant, V. N. Boldyrev, showed Pavlov the protocols of some experiments that apparently contradicted the laboratory's doctrine of purposefulness. Boldyrev had not fed his dog for an entire day but observed that, nevertheless, the pancreatic gland secreted periodically. This seemed to contradict Pavlov's view of the factory-like response of the digestive glands to specific excitants. The result was an "extraordinarily stormy scene." Pavlov hollered that Boldyrev was obviously a sloppy observer, that he must have had food in his pockets, or smelled of food, or made some inadvertent movement that excited the dog. The scene ended with Pavlov literally chasing Boldyrev out of the laboratory. Yet the stubborn praktikant returned and repeated the experiment with another dog. The result was identical, as was Pavlov's response. Boldyrev then sat with the dog for twenty-four straight hours, with the same result. Finally, Pavlov joined Boldyrev and confirmed his observation—which was soon incorporated into laboratory doctrine.⁶⁸

The memoir literature contains several such examples, always with Pavlov exploding and then finally surrendering to the force of scientific facts. In any case—as this literature also makes clear—it was a rare praktikant who stood up to Pavlov's authority and legendary temper, and who was as committed as the chief to a particular interpretation of laboratory results. Furthermore, it was the chief who decided which data and perspectives revealed by a praktikant's research would be pursued—and which would not.⁶⁹

Pavlov's most direct intervention in the work of the praktikant was his editing of all reports, articles, and dissertations. This allowed him to shape the interpretation of data, to incorporate the praktikant's work into the laboratory's institutional memory, and to project a unified laboratory voice into the broader scientific and medical communities. Upon drafting one of these "literary products," the praktikant was invited to Pavlov's office in the laboratory, where he was treated to sweet tea, black bread, and Ukrainian bacon while he read his draft aloud to the chief. (In the case of a dissertation, this continued for two hours a day over about two weeks.) Pavlov sat with his head back and his eyes closed, frequently interrupting with questions or corrections, and "sometimes revising all through, most attentively, before publication. He even wrote some of them himself"⁷⁰

Each literary product was edited to a particular style. Reports to the Society of Russian Physicians, for example, were no more than ten minutes long, with a simple presentation of data and conclusions. When one praktikant submitted a draft in which he polemicized with other scientific traditions and elaborated future research perspectives, Pavlov reacted negatively: "'What is this? What have you scribbled about here? Let me see this!' With a highly skeptical look he took my notebook and leafed through it. 'Well, what have we here!' and tore out about one-half of it. 'Words, little brother, are just words—empty sounds. Just give the facts, this will be valuable material.'"⁷¹

Pavlov's editing lent a highly standardized structure and content to laboratory publications. By the mid 1890s, discussions of previous research and issues in digestive physiology—even the language itself—were almost identical from one literary product to the next. (The exceptions were written by the few people who came to Pavlov's laboratory with well-developed scientific interests and inclinations.)

This editing reached deeply into the content of the praktikant's product. Babkin later recalled one revealing detail about Pavlov's editorial preferences:

One of [Pavlov's] favorite expressions was "quite definite." An experiment had to show "quite definite" results, and if the results were indefinite then the worker had to ascertain the reasons for this. Pavlov was never satisfied with half measures. Either some wrong technique had been employed or the phenomenon was more complex than the experimenter had imagined. In the latter case it was necessary to change the plan of attack, taking the new factors into consideration. In both his own and his students' publications Pavlov tried as far as possible to avoid such expressions as "it would seem" and "probably." In other words, he avoided "suggestive results." He was a determinist by conviction and believed that every phenomenon had its cause.⁷²

As editor, then, Pavlov "processed" results—pressing the praktikant to offer "quite definite" conclusions and offering helpful interpretations to this end. The praktikant himself, with little physiological training, needed to explain quite complex phenomena in a short period of time and knew that he would not receive his doctorate until he had done so to Pavlov's satisfaction. The chief's suggestions, then, seldom fell upon deaf ears.

So, "all scientific works were filtered" through Pavlov, who took this final opportunity to relate the praktikant's data to laboratory doctrine. A common recollection about this filtering process is worth pondering: "He loved not to read, but to hear the work, immediately elucidating inexactnesses, demanding explanation and confirmation of the material through experiments. There frequently arose heated discussions, during which Ivan Petrovich, using his brilliant memory, would refute the figures and propositions offered by the writer of the dissertation." This curious point—that Pavlov remembered the data better than the praktikant himself—arises repeatedly in the memoir literature.⁷³ It appears suspicious, even absurd, on the face of it—however prodigious Pavlov's memory—when we consider that he was usually supervising the work of some fifteen praktikanty conducting hundreds of experiments, each generating columns of data.

I am inclined, however, to accept the recollection as essentially accurate—and as an important reflection of Pavlov's scientific style. He could not, of course, remember all the experimental data, but neither was he equally interested in it all. Just as he considered the research of some praktikanty more important than that of others, so he considered some experiments more telling than others. Contrary to his carefully cultivated image, Pavlov was a deeply intuitive thinker. Like Bernard's, his notion of experimental reason left ample room for the "preconceived idea"; and, like Gerald Geison's Pasteur, he confidently identified the "signal" amid the "noise."⁷⁴ Pavlov carried with him an ideal "template" of what good experimental results along his main lines of investigation should look like. When he observed results that fit this template, he remembered them well and so was quite capable of citing such data to refute or amend interpretations of other experiments that fit his preconception less snugly.

This highlights a critical point for reading the praktikanty's literary products: Pavlov was the coauthor of each. Throughout the praktikant's tenure in the laboratory—during his initial socialization, the meetings with assistant and chief at the bench, the give-and-take of general laboratory discussions, and his editorial sessions with Pavlov—his "borrowed senses" constantly confronted the chief's "directing mind." In the dissertations, this confrontation was often reflected in detailed physiological explanations downplaying results that threatened long-standing laboratory doctrines and emphasizing those that affirmed them. Reading these dissertations, one sometimes notices that their argumentation "changes direction"—that data and prose that run counter to, say, the notion of a purposeful pattern in pancreatic secretions suddenly shift and take the opposite direction; or, more commonly, that tentative suggestions become "quite definite" conclusions. This, I think, testifies to Pavlov's hand, and to the deeper significance of Babkin's observation that "all physiological difficulties were solved by Pavlov or his assistant."⁷⁵

Appreciation of Pavlov's role brings us back to the interpretive moments inherent to the chronic experiment. We now turn, then, to the second critical interaction in the laboratory.

The Men and Their Dogs at Work

We have seen that the tension between laboratory dogs as technologies and as intact organisms created a series of interpretive moments in chronic experiments. As technologies, the dogs were expected to yield pravil'nye results. For example, the gastric glands in one dog were expected to produce the same pattern of secretions in response to 200 grams of meat from one meal to the next, and this "secretory curve" was expected to be "essentially" the same as that produced by another dog. Pavlov and his praktikanty also recognized, however, that, as an intact organism, each dog possessed a psyche and a distinctive personality and that these influenced experimental results. The praktikant's task, then, went far beyond collecting, measuring, and analyzing digestive fluids; he had also to assess the normality and personality of his dog(s) and interpret his results accordingly—with Pavlov's help and until gaining Pavlov's approval. Reviewing the doctoral dissertations produced in the laboratory reveals several features of this interpretive process.

In keeping with Pavlov's scientific vision, a praktikant necessarily assessed the "normalcy" of his dog. This assessment rested in part on such objective indicators as the animal's maintenance of a stable weight and temperature, but it was not limited to these. The word happy (veselyi) occurs regularly in attestations of normalcy. For example, Sanotskii (1892) assured his readers that, having recovered from their operations, "the dogs were happy and energetic, possessed a marvelous appetite, and gave at a glance the general impression of completely normal animals." Attesting to the full recovery of his dogs from the implantation of the troublesome pancreatic fistula, Val'ter (1897) noted that they "create the impression of entirely normal, well-fed, happy animals." The dog upon whom most of his conclusions were based, Zhuchka, "ate its food enthusiastically," ran a normal temperature, and "produced the impression of a healthy animal enjoying its life." Sometimes, as in a dog with a pancreatic fistula, the praktikant knew that the operation had fundamentally disrupted the dog's digestive system and would eventually lead to its death. He then needed to attest that the dog was "sufficiently normal" to generate trustworthy data. To this end, Bukhshtab (1904) described the medical ups and downs of his Lada, who suffered from both a pancreatic fistula and the transection of the nerves between its stomach and intestines. Bukhstab related that Lada actually gained weight and "felt good" but had lost some of its "former stamina": "It would become exhausted from standing in the stand, and ate unenthusiastically after the end of the experiment; therefore, the next day its weight declined. Therefore, we began to conduct experiments, not every day, but with breaks of a day or two, to allow the dog to recover and preserve its health and weight longer." Despite these efforts, Lada's "ability to withstand various external influences was lessened." The animal developed mouth ulcers, refused food, and lost weight, finally dying three months after its nerves were transected. Bukhshtab insisted, however, upon the validity of his data, since experiments with Lada were conducted only when the dog was "in complete health."⁷⁶

The praktikant also needed to identify the dog's personality (lichnost'), character (kharakter), or individuality (individual'nost') and to interpret experimental results accordingly. "Professor Pavlov has many times told those working in his laboratory that knowledge of the individual qualities of the experimental dog has important significance for a correct understanding of many phenomena elicited by the experiment," wrote one coworker in 1901. "During the conduct of our experiments we always kept this in view."⁷⁷ Here the praktikant drew upon observations concerning the dog's ease in adapting to the laboratory settings, its reaction to teasing with food, its preference for certain foods, the relative quantity of its secretory reactions, the consistency of these reactions from day to day, and so forth.

This assessment of the dog's personality was often invoked in interpreting experimental data. For example, V. N. Vasil'ev (1893) noted that his two dogs produced markedly different secretory reactions, perhaps owing to their differing ways of life before entering the laboratory: one was a "simple street dog" and so ate any food readily; the other was "obviously a hunting dog, judging by the breed and by its nervous temperament." A. R. Krever's dog Sokol (1899) was "distinguished by the great sensitivity of its digestive canal" and was so easily disturbed that it had to be taken for calming walks between experiments. Even the possible effect of these walks themselves played a role in the interpretation of experimental results. Ia. Kh. Zavriev's Volchok (1900) was "very cowardly, reacting to every manipulation with panicky terror." N. P. Kazanskii's Laska (1901) was "peaceful, happy, and affectionate" and "very greedy for food. It trembled at the sight of the food bowl and burst off the stand, almost tipping it over." Kazanskii's other dog, Pestryi, was entirely different:

As for particularities in Pestryi's nature, we can note that he was not distinguished by greed for food. He never threw himself upon the food being brought to him; he always ate calmly, unhurriedly, but with visible appetite. During the initial experiments he did not eat raw meat enthusiastically, as a consequence of which the quantity of juice in the first hour sometimes was less than during the second (a little); but then having become accustomed to meat he began to eat it enthusiastically. He was happy and always obedient during the experiments; but was also distinctively nervous and easily offended. It was enough to raise one's hand at him for him to begin to squeal, bark and grumble. . . . Pestryi initially leaned toward the pieces of meat and sausage offered him [in teasing experiments]; but then, as if he had been offended or had understood the deception, he would turn away from the food offered him in that way.⁷⁸

Here Kazanskii invoked Pestryi's personality and relative apathy toward food in order to reconcile experimental data with laboratory doctrine. According to the "stereotypical secretory curves" (constructed earlier through interpretation of experiments with Druzhok), the rapidity of gastric secretion elicited by a meal of raw meat should peak in the first hour, not the second (as was sometimes the case with Pestryi). This rapid secretion during the first hour, however, owed much to "psychic secretion," which, according to Kazanskii's argument, was muted by Pestryi's particular character. Similarly, Pestryi's changing disposition explained the different results in presumably identical experimental trials (sometimes secretion peaked in the first hour, sometimes in the second). Finally, laboratory doctrine held that appetite itself—rather than the actual mechanical effects of food upon the nerves of the mouth—generated the initial "psychic" phase of gastric secretion. This could usually be demonstrated by teasing animals with food and observing the secretory results. Pestryi, however, often failed to produce this secretory response, instead turning away from the food "as if he had been offended or had understood the deception." Kazanskii's voracious Laska would of course respond both to feeding and to teasing with a more copious "psychic secretion" than would the restrained Pestryi, and their differing "psychological profiles" were necessarily borne in mind when constructing a single, "stereotypical" curve from the differing data produced by the two animals.

Such interpretive moments constituted an "industrial secret" well known to those who worked on the factory floor but largely unappreciated by consumers familiar only with its finished products.⁷⁹

LABORATORY PRODUCTS AND THEIR MARKETS

Pavlov's physiology factory efficiently produced a large number of diversified products that appealed to various markets. The product line included knowledge claims of varying character and scope; literary products (dissertations, reports, articles, generalizing statements); methodologies, techniques, and dog-technologies; pure digestive juices; and alumni. Each product had an independent history beyond the laboratory, contributing to a "composite"—Pavlov's reputation and authority—that was greater than the sum of its parts. The fate of these products in their different markets is the subject for another essay. Here I will offer only a few general observations.

The knowledge claims produced in the laboratory ranged from relatively simple facts (e.g., the pepsin content of gastric secretions) to larger claims about the functioning of the glands (e.g., the important role of the vagus and the psyche) to unifying metaphorical statements (e.g., that the digestive system is a purposeful, precise, and efficient factory). As is generally true with complex knowledge claims, these existed both as a package and as separable components. Just as some naturalists accepted Darwin's argument for evolution (or his description of island finches) and rejected his emphasis on natural selection, so did physicians and scientists pick and choose among the knowledge claims generated by the Pavlov laboratory.

These knowledge claims were formulated and communicated in a constant output of various literary products, which were processed differently for various markets. The raw material for literary products—the experimental protocols—was the private property of the laboratory, where it remained in the form of laboratory notebooks arranged by dog. These provided an immense reservoir of data that was often drawn upon years after the trials that they recorded. The least-processed public product was the dissertation, which was edited by the chief for a few readers. Dissertations often contained contradictory data and interpretations, confessions about experimental difficulties, and other impurities absent in more refined products. Next came the praktikanty's public reports and published articles. These were tightly edited, highly focused, self-consciously public products that projected the laboratory's confident voice to scientific and medical audiences. Here many of the contradictions and complexities contained in the dissertation were omitted (although they sometimes re-emerged in public discussions). The most highly processed form—in which vision and data meshed most grandly and smoothly—were the publications of the chief himself. These (and selected articles by praktikanty) were the only literary products readily available to the laboratory's foreign consumers.

The laboratory also produced methodologies, techniques, and dog-technologies whose usefulness to other investigators was somewhat independent of the laboratory's knowledge claims. These products ranged from the Mett method for measuring the proteolytic power of glandular secretions to the Pavlov sac, and they attracted a number of Western scientists to St. Petersburg. Enhancing production in other laboratories and fortifying the scientific status of physiology in general, these products provided a stable source of Pavlov's authority even when his specific knowledge claims were called into question.⁸⁰

Perhaps the most important of these technical products were the dog-technologies, which were impressive embodiments of the laboratory's surgical and doctrinal achievements. Pavlov displayed several of these dogs at the All-Russian Hygiene Exhibit in 1893 to impress the general public with the power of experimental physiology. They served in public lectures not only for scientific-pedagogical purposes but, more broadly, as Pavlov put it, for "convincing the usually so stubborn public of the correctness and obvious usefulness of experiments on animals." Exhibited proudly to the laboratory's visitors and in a 1904 photo album celebrating Pavlov's achievements, laboratory dogs also made an impressive gift to a valued colleague.⁸¹

These dog-technologies also enabled Pavlov's laboratory efficiently to produce large quantities of pure digestive juices, which themselves proved an especially successful product among both scientists and clinicians. A number of Russian and Western European investigators requested samples of gastric and pancreatic secretions in order to pursue their own studies of digestive fluids. Even after the publication of Pavlov's Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands, one Russian physiologist could write that "I. P. Pavlov's great significance consists in his introduction and perfection of a method to obtain various digestive juices in pure form."⁸²

Pure gastric juice created a sensation in the international medical market. Pavlov's "small gastric juice factory," which swung into production in 1898, bottled the gastric juice drawn from esophagotomized dogs by sham feeding and sold it as a remedy for dyspepsia. By 1904 this enterprise was selling over three thousand flagons a year, increasing the laboratory budget by over 65 percent. Perhaps more importantly, Pavlov's "natural gastric juice of a dog" provided a dramatic demonstration of the clinical value of experimental physiology, considerably enhancing the chief's reputation among physicians and physiologists both in Russia and abroad. Indeed, Pavlov's status as a hero of Russian science was bolstered considerably by several articles in the country's medical press accusing a Frenchman of unscrupulously pirating this treatment for dyspepsia and marketing it under the sanitized label "gastérine."⁸³

The laboratory also produced alumni. Just as they had as praktikanty, alumni qualitatively extended Pavlov's reach. Armed with doctoral degrees, they often rose to influential positions in Russia's medical establishment. About half acquired professorial positions in clinical medicine (often combining these with a clinical position in a hospital); others assumed posts in the state medical bureaucracy and in a wide range of military and civilian institutions throughout the empire. Few became physiologists, although this began to change at the turn of the century.⁸⁴ Even alumni who attained only modest professional heights enhanced Pavlov's reputation simply by making their way, in the course of their everyday lives, into innumerable milieus that were inaccessible to the chief for many reasons, including the sheer limitations upon the time of any single person. Former praktikanty lived throughout the empire, treating and chatting with patients, attending meetings, delivering and commenting upon papers, recommending the laboratory's home remedy for dyspepsia, and, apparently quite often, regaling acquaintances with tales of their investigative experience in St. Petersburg. Like alumni of other academic institutions, many preserved some connection with the laboratory long after graduation: corresponding with the chief, visiting him when in the capital, requesting letters of recommendation, and so forth. Favored alumni continued to perform important tasks: several traveled abroad on study leaves, teaching Pavlovian techniques and otherwise extending the chief's European contacts. One alumnus, A. A. Val'ter, qualitatively enhanced Pavlov's European reputation by translating Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands into German (1898). These foreign contacts were especially important to Pavlov given the rarity of his own forays beyond Russia's borders, and they generated significant return traffic to St. Petersburg.

These considerations highlight an important advantage of factory production: the efficient generation of sheer numbers of products. The enormous quantity of experiments and data—over which only Pavlov had total access and control—allowed him to mobilize them selectively for his purposes. The sheer quantity of praktikanty and lines of investigation afforded him great flexibility and a "panoramic view," allowing him to move among related projects at will, to note interesting similarities and differences among them, and to initiate new ones as seemed fit. The sheer quantity of alumni amplified his voice and extended his reach both in Russia and abroad.

The impact of sheer quantity of literary products can be illustrated through Pavlov's participation in the St. Petersburg branch of the Society of Russian Physicians. Founded in the 1880s as a leading organ of the medical profession, the society provided a principal market for the laboratory's reports and articles. Its membership included about 150 of St. Petersburg's most eminent physicians, professors of clinical medicine, and medical administrators, a number of whom gathered twice a month to hear and discuss brief reports. Society proceedings were widely published, both in Trudy Obshchestva Russkikh Vrachei (Works of the Society of Russian Physicians) and in other Russian medical journals (which sent their own reporters to meetings). Rarely did any investigator take the podium more than once a year, but between 1891 and 1904 representatives of Pavlov's laboratory presented about ninety reports. Delivered by physicians and buttressed by impressive experimental data, these reports conveyed the range, methodologies, fundamental conclusions, and therapeutic promise of the laboratory's research. At the conclusion of a praktikant's report, the chief usually rose to summarize its significance and, almost always, to handle any questions or objections. The sheer number of these occasions created a role for Pavlov: he became, as he once put it, "the voice of contemporary times"—the experimental physiologist explaining to practicing physicians the nature and value of scientific medicine.⁸⁵ Elected to society membership only in 1892, Pavlov became its vice president the following year and held that post until he assumed the presidency in 1907.

This brings us to the laboratory's final product: Pavlov himself. The talented but undisciplined procrastinator who labored erratically during the 1870s and 1880s himself became part of the purposeful, precise, and regular operation of his physiology factory. No longer did he work by inspiration or stroll along the Neva River during weekdays dreaming of future accomplishments. Every moment was accounted for, and those who sought unscheduled counsel could usually obtain it only—literally—on the run. Placed upon the public stage by his laboratory's products, Pavlov used the spotlight skillfully.

As the nation's most visible experimenter on animals, he became physiologists' spokesman against antivivisectionists; as the Russian physiologist whose works were most familiar in the West, he became the Russian medical establishment's candidate for a Nobel Prize; as the source of numerous technical innovations, a laboratory-based therapy for dyspepsia, and a precise portrayal of subtle physiological mechanisms, he became a spokesman for—and, later, a symbol of—the unlimited possibilities of experimental biology.

The role of factory production in creating this new Pavlov is evident throughout the Nobel Prize Committee's deliberations. Pavlov was first nominated in 1901 both by a collective letter from the professors of the Military-Medical Academy—who apparently saw him as Russia's best hope for a prize in physiology or medicine—and by the Johns Hopkins University physiologist W. H. Howell, who had read Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands in Val'ter's German translation. Pavlov's candidacy rested on a wide range of laboratory products and so weathered doubts about some of his specific knowledge claims (including his doctrine of purposefulness, his discovery of "stereotypical" patterns of gastric and pancreatic secretion, and his nervist account of pancreatic secretion). The nominee succeeded in neutralizing some of these criticisms in the eyes of the Nobel judges by the timely deployment of praktikanty and the rapid publication of responses to objections. When informed that several judges would attend the Conference of Northern Physiologists in Helsinki in 1902, Pavlov mobilized his laboratory to impress them with seven separate reports. The committee that finally awarded him the prize in 1904 included two members who, for either therapeutic or investigative purposes, had obtained from the nominee some "natural gastric juice of a dog."⁸⁶

As for the "downside" of factory production—the questions it raised about intellectual credit and originality—the committee ultimately agreed with two of Pavlov's supporters. Their visit to the laboratory had convinced them that "all the works issued from it, whether or not they carry prof. Pawlow's name, to a substantial degree constitute his intellectual property, as he has not only carried out all the operations on the animals used in the experiments but has also been the leader and organizer [ordnaren] with regard to the planning, development, and implementation of the special investigations." As another committee member expressed it, Pavlov remained "the soul and the leader even in the research that his workers and students in the laboratory carry out."⁸⁷

Even as Pavlov accepted the Nobel Prize, he was turning laboratory investigations toward the ghost in the digestive machine—toward the psyche itself. By 1904 he was well on his way toward a redefinition of "psychic secretion" that rendered it accessible to his laboratory system. The physiology factory of 1891-1904 proved only a small prototype for the immense enterprise that he would build and direct in subsequent years. The challenges of a new, seemingly very different scientific subject, and the passage from tsarism to bolshevism (and from Lenin to Stalin), changed the system of production in Pavlov's laboratory very little. His "small world" proved remarkably successful in—even preadapted to—the larger world of twentieth-century science.

NOTES

¹ This was the physiologist Robert Tigerstedt's characterization of the "totally incorrect" opinion of other members of the Nobel Prize Committee. This view appears in his memo of 8 Sept. 1901, entitled "P. M. angaende prof. J. P. Pawlowa arbeten," in P. M. Forsandelser och Betankanden 1901, Nobel Archives, Karolinska Institutet, Stockholm, Sweden. My thanks to Johan Ledin for this and other translations of the Swedish texts. For a discussion of Pavlov's candidacy for the Nobel Prize see George Windholz and James R. Kuppers, "Pavlov and the Nobel Prize Award," Pavlovian Journal of Behavioral Science, 1990, 25: 155-162. For the epigraph see Ivan Pavlov, "Ob urne voobshche" (1918), Arkhiv Rossiiskoi Akademii Nauk, Peterburgskii filial (Archive of the Russian Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg branch), fond 259 opis' 1a delo 3, list 12. Hereafter references of this sort will be cited as ARAN 259. la.3:12.

² Among the many works that treat science as social production are Bruno Latour and Steve Woolgar, Laboratory Life: The Social Construction of Scientific Facts (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1979); Karin Knorr-Cetina, The Manufacture of Knowledge: An Essay on the Constructivist and Contextual Nature of Science (Oxford: Pergamon, 1981); Steven Shapin and Simon Schaffer, Leviathan and the Air-Pump: Hobbes, Boyle, and the Experimental Life (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1985); Adele Clarke and Joan Fujimura, eds., The Right Tools for the Job: At Work in Twentieth-Century Life Sciences (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1992); and Robert E. Kohler, Lords of the Fly: Drosophila Genetics and the Experimental Life (Chicago/London: Univ. Chicago Press, 1994). I read Kohler's splendid book closely while thinking about Pavlov's laboratory and acknowledge the benefit of his many insights.

³ For the differing scientific-managerial styles in six large chemistry laboratories see Joseph Fruton, Contrasts in Scientific Style: Research Groups in the Chemical and Biochemical Sciences (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1990). There exists no similar work for large physiological laboratories, but reminiscences and the observations of historians point to important differences among them. See, e.g., Gerald L. Geison, Michael Foster and the Cambridge School of Physiology: The Scientific Enterprise in Late Victorian Society (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1978), pp. 162-190; Simon Flexner and James Thomas Flexner, William Henry Welch and the Heroic Age of American Medicine (Baltimore/London: Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1941), pp. 84-86; Robert Frank, Jr., "American Physiologists in German Laboratories, 1865-1914," in Physiology in the American Context, 1850-1940, ed. Geison (Bethesda, Md.: American Physiological Society, 1987), pp. 11-46, esp. pp. 27-38; Merriley Borell, "Instruments and an Independent Physiology: The Harvard Physiological Laboratory, 1871-1906," ibid., pp. 293-321; and E. M. Tansey, "The Wellcome Physiological Research Laboratories, 1894-1904: The Home Office, Pharmaceutical Firms, and Animal Experiments," Medical History, 1989, 33.-1-41. On Pavlov's and V. M. Bekhterev's contrasting styles see Boris Babkin, Pavlov: A Biography (Chicago/London: Univ. Chicago Press, 1949), pp. 67-76, 80-82, 115-129. Babkin described these laboratories more fully in his original manuscript, which is held by the McGill University Archive, Montreal; hereafter this version of the text will be cited as Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript).

The comparison of laboratory and factory has a long history. For two quite different reflections see Max Weber, "Science as a Vocation" (1919), in From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology, trans. and ed. H. H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1946), pp. 129-156, on p. 135; and Bruno Latour, "The Costly Ghastly Kitchen," in The Laboratory Revolution in Medicine, ed. Andrew Cunningham and Perry Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1992), pp. 295-303, on p. 299. My thanks to Keith Barbera for bringing Weber's comments to my attention.

For an overview of Pavlov's laboratory from 1891 to 1936 see George Windholz, "Pavlov and the Pavlovians in the Laboratory," Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences, 1990, 26:64-74; and D. G. Kvasov's prefatory essay, in Kvasov and A. K. Fedorova-Grot, Fiziologicheskaia Shkola I. P. Pavlova (Leningrad: Nauka, 1967), pp. 3-18. For a characterization of "Pavlov's school" at work on conditional reflexes see David Joravsky, Russian Psychology: A Critical History (Oxford/Cambridge, Mass.: Basil Blackwell, 1989), pp. 389-400.

⁴ Pavlov made this revelation to a Parisian audience likely to appreciate it, but his high regard for Bernard is evident throughout his corpus. For this comment see his remarks upon accepting an honorary doctorate from the University of Paris in 1925, in Neopublikovannye i maloizvestnye material) I. P. Pavlova (Leningrad: Nauka, 1975), p. 77. In 1897 Pavlov compiled a reading list on physiology for laypeople and recommended that they begin their specialized reading with three works by this "brilliant mind." See N. M. Gureeva, "Uchastie I. P. Pavlova v deiatel'nosti pedagogicheskogo muzeia voennykh uchebnykh zavedenii," Fiziologicheskii Zhurnal SSSR, 1959, 45(9): 1157-1162, on p. 1159. Proponents of radical scientism embraced Bernard's determinism and opposition to metaphysics in science; liberal and conservative opponents of radical scientism used Bernard's antimetaphysical stance to separate the materialist metaphysics of radical thinkers from the authority of science. Three successive professors of physiology at St. Petersburg University—I. M. Sechenov, I. F. Tsion, and I. R. Tarkhanov—assumed that post after some experience in Bernard's laboratory.

⁵ The first, a joint work with another of Tsion's students, was delivered to the St. Petersburg Society of Naturalists. The abstract is republished in I. P. Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, 6 vols. (Moscow/Leningrad: Akademiia Nauk SSSR, 1951-1952) (hereafter cited as Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii), Vol. 1, p. 27. The second, written in collaboration with yet another of Tsion's students, was awarded a gold medal from St. Petersburg University and was subsequently republished in Pflüger' s Archiv; see ibid., Vol. 2, Pt. 1, pp. 49-87.

⁶ To give one of many examples: In An introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine, Bernard writes: "Ideas, given form by facts, embody science." See Claude Bernard, Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine, trans. Henry Copley Greene (New York: Dover, 1957), p. 26. In Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands, Pavlov offers his readers "the unfolding of a single idea increasingly embodied in tenable and harmoniously linked experiments." Ivan Pavlov, Lektsii o rabote glavnykh pishchevaritel'nykh zhelez [Lectures on the work of the main digestive glands] (1897), preface to the first edition, in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 2, Pt. 2, p. 11. In the authorized English translation by W. H. Thompson, The Work of the Digestive Glands (London: Charles Griffin, 1902), this phrase is found in the first page of the unpaginated "Preface to the Russian Edition." Unless otherwise noted, the translations that appear here are mine. Hereafter I will refer to the Russian edition as Pavlov, Lektsii and to the English as Pavlov, Lectures.

⁷ Bernard, Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine, pp. 59-86; William Coleman, "The Cognitive Basis of the Discipline: Claude Bernard on Physiology," Isis, 1985, 76:49-70; and Latour, "Costly Ghastly Kitchen" (cit. n. 3), pp. 295-303.

⁸ Bernard denied the usefulness of mathematical averages or means to characterize physiological phenomena. These, he argued, were inappropriate to the search for unvarying, deterministic laws. In An Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine he made this point by describing his own relentless search to reconcile (rather than average) conflicting results. These examples all concerned questions that could finally be answered with a simple "yes" or "no." See, for example, the description of his path to the discovery that an animal could be made diabetic by puncturing its fourth ventricle (pp. 173-178). Pavlov, on the other hand, used chronic experiments to analyze secretory patterns that he could never describe with a simple "yes" or "no." His construction of "stereotypical" patterns involved comparisons of varying data and, ultimately, reliance upon a flexible, homegrown statistical logic.

⁹ Coleman, "Cognitive Basis of the Discipline" (cit. n. 7), p. 56. For Bernard's scientific style see F. L. Holmes, Claude Bernard and Animal Chemistry: The Emergence of a Scientist (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1974).

¹⁰ Bernard, Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine (cit. n. 6), pp. 21-23, 23-24.

¹¹ On the early history of the Imperial Institute of Experimental Medicine see A. P. Salomon, "Imperatorskii Institut Eksperimental'noi Meditsiny v S.-Peterburge," Arkhiv Biologicheskikh Nauk, 1892, I:3-22; and Iu P. Golikov and K. A. Lange, "Stanovlenie pervogo v Rossii issledovatel'skogo uchrezhdeniia v oblasti biologii i meditsiny," in Pervyi v Rossii issledovatel'skii tsentr v oblasti biologii i meditsiny (Leningrad: Nauka, 1990), pp. 7-75.

¹² The citation is from Ol'denburgskii's report to Tsar Alexander III in 1893, in Tsentral'nyi Gosudarstvennyi Istoricheskii Arkhiv Peterburga (hereafter TsGIAP) 2282.1.56:80.

¹³ The phrase "detour through the lab" is Latour's, in "Costly Ghastly Kitchen" (cit. n. 3), p. 297. Geison argues convincingly that a similar "detour"—in the form of a requirement that medical students attend "a practical course of general anatomy and physiology" involving "experiments; manipulations, & c."—transformed Foster's laboratory and "may have been the most important factor in the transformation of late Victorian physiology." See Geison, Foster and the Cambridge School of Physiology (cit. n. 3), pp. 150-151, 174-179. On the widespread perception that "scientific positivism" was the key to improving medical practice see V. I. Pashutin, Kratkii ocherk Imperatorskoi Voenno-Meditsinskoi Akademii za 100 let eia sushchestvovaniia (St. Petersburg, 1898), p. 19. The statutes describing the advantages of a doctorate in medicine are collected in Svod uzakonenii i rasporiazhenii pravitel'stva po vrachebnoi i sanitarnoi chasti v Imperii (St. Petersburg, 1895-1896), pp. 129-130.

¹⁴ Pavlov probably came to appreciate the advantages of large laboratory groups while working in Karl Ludwig's and Rudolf Heidenhain's laboratories in 1884-1886. His managerial style, however, differed markedly from theirs. The authoritative dictionary of the Russian language defined the root word, "praktik, " as "a man of deeds, applying his understanding to a task, fulfilling it in experience," and offered the antonyms "theoretician, speculator, philosopher." See Vladimir Dal', Tolkovyi slovar' zhivogo velikorusskogo iazyka, Vol. 3, "P" (1882; Moscow: Russkii Iazyk, 1990), p. 381.

¹⁵ As David Joravsky has noted, many years later Pavlov's friend and colleague Nikolai Kol'tsov observed of the coworkers who explored conditional reflexes that "these ephemeral scholars were often only hands, for which their teacher provided the head." For Joravsky, "the important question is whether or to what degree Pavlov turned his assistants into factory hands, made them do science in the regimented way that stifles creativity regardless of voice level or other peculiarities of command and execution. He was a pioneer of the twentieth century's 'big science,' which raises that troubling question everywhere." See N. K. Kol'tsov, "Trud zhizni velikogo biologa," Biologicheskii Zhurnal, 1936, 5(3): 387-402, on p. 401; and Joravsky, Russian Psychology (cit. n. 3), p. 390.

¹⁶ Pavlov first publicly referred to the digestive system as a factory in a speech of 1894: "Rech' tovarishcha predsedatelia obshchestva russkikh vrachei," Trudy Obshchestva Russkikh Vrachei, Dec. 1895, pp. 151-165, on p. 155; also in Pavlov Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 2, Pt. 1, pp. 245-274, on p. 250. His use of this metaphor corresponds in a number of interesting details to an article about factories published just prior to this speech by his acquaintance, the chemist Dmitrii Mendeleev: "Zavody," in Entsiklopedicheskii slovar' Brokgauza i Efrona, Vol. 12 (St. Petersburg, 1894), pp. 100-104. For Pavlov's elaboration of this guiding metaphor in Lectures on the Work of the Main Digestive Glands see Pavlov,Lektsii, p. 20. The English translation (Pavlov, Lectures, p. 2) muffles this passage. Where Pavlov writes that the digestive canal "is, obviously, a chemical factory," the English version reads "It may be compared to a chemical factory." In the Russian edition, Pavlov develops this metaphor by reference to a specific Russian productive relationship, kustarnyi lad. This is omitted in the English translation. For a reference to the digestive system as a "chemical laboratory" see Pavlov's lectures of 1911-1912 in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 5, p. 17. In the mid-nineteenth century, the Russian word "laboratoriia" was still defined univocally as "an institution for chemical or metallurgical works, for filling explosive shells, for the preparation of fireworks": Dal', Tolkovyi slovar' (cit. n. 14), Vol. 2, "I-O" (1881), p. 231. Dal's dictionary was compiled decades prior to its publication, so this definition does not reflect common usage by the time of its publication. My thanks to Nikolai Krementsov for pointing this out.

¹⁷ Pavlov's laboratory budget for 1891 was 3,200 rubles: TsGIAP 2282.1.396:164. His nearest competitor was I. R. Tarkhanov at the Military-Medical Academy, whose annual budget was 600 rubles. See Lev Popel'skii, Istoricheskii ocherk kafedry fiziologii v lmperatorskoi Voenno-Meditsinskoi Akademii za 100 let (1798-1898) (St. Petersburg, 1899), p. 118. For the epigraph to this section see Ivan Pavlov, "Experimental Psychology and Psycho-pathology in Animals" (1903), in Pavlov, Lectures on Conditioned Reflexes: Twenty-five Years of Objective Study of the Higher Nervous Activity (Behavior) of Animals, trans. W. Horsley Gantt (New York: International Publishers, 1928), pp. 47-60, on p. 60.

¹⁸ I have identified praktikanty from Pavlov's yearly reports to Ol'denburgskii in TsGIAP 2282.1; Kvasov and Fedorova-Grot, Fiziologicheskaia Shkola I. P. Pavlova (cit. n. 3); and N. M. Gureeva, N. A. Chebysheva, and V. A. Merkulov, Letopis' zhizni i deiatel'nosti akademika I. P. Pavlova (Leningrad: Nauka, 1969).

¹⁹ D. A. Kamenskii, "Moe znakomstvo s Ivanom Petrovichem," in Pavlov v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov, ed. E. M. Kreps (Leningrad: Nauka, 1967), pp. 103-105.

²⁰ For the questions see Alfred Nobel to Emmanuel Nobel, 21 June 1893, TsGIAP 2282.1.47:1-3. Some of the relevant archival material has been published recently in V. S. Meshkunov and A. M. Blokh, "Al'fred Nobel' i Imperatorskii Institut Eksperimental'noi Meditsiny v Sankt-Peterburge," Voprosy Istorii Estestvoznaiia i Tekhniki, 1994, 1:121-128. On the Nobels in Russia see Robert W. Tolf, The Russian Rockefellers: The Saga of the Nobel Family and the Russian Oil Industry (Stanford, Calif.: Hoover Institution Press, 1976). The new chemistry building was completed in 1892, the new pathological anatomy building in 1893.

²¹ Ivan Pavlov to Emmanuel Nobel, 18 May 1894, TsGIAP 2282.1.47:19. In his official report to the tsar for 1894 Prince Ol'denburgskii referred to this as Nobel's original intention. Whether seeking to justify his use of Nobel's money or genuinely excited by Nobel's ideas, Pavlov assigned one praktikant, V. N. Geinats, to develop a surgical procedure for uniting the circulatory systems of two different dogs. Pavlov expressed great hopes for this project and, in one enthusiastic moment, announced that he would soon turn the entire lab to such "sewing." The operation, however, failed repeatedly and was reluctantly abandoned. E. A. Ganike, "Vospominaniia ob Ivane Petroviche Pavlove," in Pavlov v vospominaniiakh, ed. Kreps (cit. n. 19), pp. 76-78, on p. 77.

²² Ivan Pavlov, "K khirurgicheskoi metodike issledovaniia sekretornykh iavlenii zheludka" (1894), in Pavlov,Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 2, Pt. 1, pp. 275-281, on pp. 275-276.

²³ In much the same way, Latour's Pasteur insisted that the simplifying precision of laboratory microbiology could reveal secrets of infectious disease that would always remain invisible to hygienists encountering the multifactorial complexities of illness outside the lab. See Bruno Latour, The Pasteurization of France (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1988).

²⁴ See note 79. The classic treatise on the problem of "normalcy" is Georges Canguilhem's brilliant work The Normal and the Pathological (1943; New York: Zone, 1991).

²⁵ Pavlov, Lektsii, p. 37 (Lectures, p. 18).

²⁶ Bernard, Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine (cit.n. 6), p. 141; and "Pavlov, "K khirurgicheskoi metodike" (cit.n. 22), p. 275. The envy of another leading Russian physiologist is clear in his assessment of Pavlov's scientific contributions: "The arena for Pavlov's scholarly activity is not only the Military-Medical Academy, but also the Institute of Experimental Medicine, in which he heads the wealthy physiological division. Thanks to the wealthy scientific setting of the physiological laboratory of this Institute and the lavish sums available to produce scientific investigations, the majority of Pavlov's works, and those of his students, are produced within the walls of this Institute, to which science is already indebted for many valuable and important investigations." I. R. Tarkhanov, "Fiziologiia," in Rossiia: Entsiklopedicheskii Slovar', ed. F. A. Brokgauz and I. A. Efron (1898; Leningrad: Lenizdat, 1991), p. 768.

²⁷ The sources for these data are given in note 18, above. The one woman, E. O. Shumova-Simanovskaia, was Pavlov's collaborator, friend, and benefactor from his preinstitute days. Her scientific credentials and relationship with Pavlov were unusual for a praktikant. The number of women in Pavlov's laboratory increased substantially after 1905. A minority of coworkers—fourteen in the years 1890-1904—came to the laboratory with a doctorate already in hand. Of these, seven were either assistants or enjoyed a special personal relationship with the chief; another was recruited specifically for work on his own area of expertise. Twenty praktikanty worked in the lab for less than one year; the great majority of these did not complete their doctoral theses. Information about this group would much enhance our understanding of laboratory dynamics but is unfortunately unavailable.

²⁸ Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 139; and Kamenskii, "Moe znakomstov" (cit.n. 19), p. 105. Babkin's manuscript is not paginated consecutively, so page numbers are my own.

²⁹ On Khizhin's contribution see the discussion of the "isolated sac" in the section "The Laboratory Dog as Technology and Organism." At the turn of the century, having decided to confront the phenomenon of "psychic secretion," which he regarded as psychological and so beyond his expertise, Pavlov recruited Snarskii (1900) and Tolochinov (1901). They brought with them perspectives developed in psychology and psychiatry and in the laboratory of Pavlov's subsequent rival, V. M. Bekhterev. For a brief discussion see Daniel P. Todes, "From the Machine to the Ghost Within: Pavlov's Transition from Digestive Physiology to Conditional Reflexes," American Psychologist (forthcoming, 1997).

³⁰ S. A. Ostrogorskii, Vrach, 1898, 7:212.

³¹ These assistants, with their years of service, were V. N. Massen (1891-1893), Iu. M. Iablonskii (1893-1894), E. A. Ganike (1894-1936), E. A. Kotliar (1895), v. I. Damaskin (1895-1898), and A. P. Sokolov (1899-1909); the "member-coworker" was G. A. Smirnov (1893-1934). Smirnov's duties were the same as those of the assistants, but he chose his research topics independently. In 1916 Ganike became head of the newly formed Physico-Physiological Division at the institute, but this served largely as a workshop attached to Pavlov's factory.

³² D. A. Sokolov, 25 let bor'by: Vospominaniia vracha (St. Petersburg, 1910), p. 77; and Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), pp. 273-274.

³³ Sokolov, 25 let bor'by, p. 31; Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 138; Serafima Vasil' evna Pavlova, Vospominaniia, ARAN 259.1.170:505; and Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 265 (I have corrected minor spelling errors in the typescript.

³⁴ In Lords of the Fly (cit. n. 2), Robert Kohler approaches laboratory Drosophila as both biological entities and technologies (see his general discussion on pp. 6-11). For analysis of another organism-technology see Bonnie Cause. "The Wistar Rat as a Right Choice: Establishing Mammalian Standards and the Ideal of a Standardized Mammal," Journal of the History of Biology, 1993, 26:329-349. My approach to this duality is somewhat different, no doubt in part because of the differences between fly, rat, and dog, the various laboratories, and the premise experimental uses to which these organismtechnologies were put.

³⁵ Latour, "Costly Ghastly Kitchen" (cit.n. 3), p. 299; and Ivan Pavlov, "Fiziologicheskaia khirurgiia pishchevaritel'nogo kanala" (1902), in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 6, pp. 285-334, on p. 286. This article was first published in German and figured prominently in the Nobel Committee's evaluation of Pavlov's candidacies. On "local knowledge" see Susan Leigh Star, "Scientific Work and Uncertainty," Social Studies of Science, 1985, /5:391-428; and Harry M. Marks, "Local Knowledge: Experimental Communities and Experimental Practices, 1918-1950" (unpublished manuscript, 1988).

³⁶ Pavlov, Lektsii, p. 22 (Lectures, p. 4). See also Pavlov, "Fiziologicheskaia khirurgiia," p. 289. In his doctoral dissertation, Pavlov explicitly embraced "nervism," which he termed Botkin's "great service" to physiology and defined as "the physiological theory that attempts to extend the influence of the nervous system to the greatest possible number of the organism's activities." Ivan Pavlov, Tsentrobezhnye nervy serdtsa (1883), in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 1, p. 197. For a later expression of this sentiment as it applied to physiological surgery see Pavlov, "Fiziologicheskaia khirurgiia," p. 290.

³⁷ On the history of the gastric fistula and the isolated sac see Horace W. Davenport, A History of Gastric Secretion and Digestion (New York/Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1992), esp. pp. 138-143.

³⁸ Pavlov, "Fiziologicheskaia khirurgiia" (cit. n. 35), pp. 290, 309, 312, 313. Pavlov noted that one dog in five possessed a "favorable individual predisposition" that enabled it to survive the operation with relative ease. For the concession that the pancreatic fistula was "not ideal" see Pavlov, Lektsii, pp. 27-28 (Lectures, p. 8).

³⁹ Ivan Pavlov, "O vzaimnom otnoshenii fiziologii i meditsiny" (1894), in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 2, Pt. 1, pp. 245-274, on p. 251. For the trials and tribulations leading to the success with Druzhok see P. P. Khizhin, Otdelitel'naia rabota zheludka sobaki (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1894), pp. 12-33.

⁴⁰ On the "Heidenhain stomach" see Davenport, History of Gastric Secretion and Digestion (cit. n. 37), pp. 14, 140. Heidenhain did, however, concede that if emotions affected gastric secretion, as was sometimes reported, this would be evidence for the importance of central nervous mechanisms. On Pavlov's modifications see Pavlov, "K khirurgicheskoi metodike" (cit.n. 22), p. 279.

The isolated sac was sometimes referred to as the "Heidenhain-Pavlov sac." The difficulty of convincing Russian clinicians that the isolated sac reflected normal gastric secretion is evident in the published protocols of the discussion at the Society of Russian Physicians in 1894. See Trudy Obsh, Russk, Vrack, Sept. 1894, 64;38-46; an abridged version of this discussion is published in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 6, pp. 40-45.

⁴¹ Pavlov, Lektsii, pp. 33, 147 (Lectures, pp. 13, 108). On the pathological effects of the pancreatic fistula see, e.g., Iu. M. Iablonskii, Spetsificheskoe zabolevanie sobak, teriaiushchikh khronicheski sok podzheludochnoi zhelezy i vliianie molochno-khlebnogo rezhima na deiatel'nost' podzheludochnoi zhelezy (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1894).

⁴² Pavlov made this remark while invoking his experience with the disorders among his laboratory dogs as a source of authority in discussions of pathology. See Ivan Pavlov, "Laboratornye nabliudeniia nad patologicheskimi refleksami s briushnoi polosti" (1898), in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobranie Sochinenii. Vol. 1, pp. 550-563, on pp. 553-554. On the deterioration of Druzhok's isolated sac see A. N. Volkovich, Fiziologiia i patologiia zheludochnykh zhelez (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (Kronstadt, 1898), pp. 41-42. The laboratory seems never to have explored the potentially subversive implications of Pavlov's and Volkovich's observations for conclusions based upon Druzhok's "normalcy." Rather, Druzhok's illness, and that of Sultan, the second dog to receive an isolated sac, was used to launch a new line of investigation: the experimental pathology and therapeutics of digestion.

⁴³ Susan Abrams discusses this aspect of the laboratory dog in "A Dog's Life: Conflict and Contradiction in Horsley Gantt's Pavlovian Laboratories" (unpublished manuscript, 1994). See also Michael Lynch, "Sacrifice and Transformation of the Animal Body into a Scientific Object: Laboratory Culture and Ritual Practice in the Neurosciences," Soc. Stud. Sci, 1988, 18:265-289.

⁴⁴ The acknowledged importance of the psyche was the most important source of these interpretive moments, but hardly the only one. As experience with various surgical operations increased, even dogs-as-technologies acquired a "personality" of sorts. For example, the size of the isolated stomach varied from dog to dog, requiring some mathematical recalculations to compare the secretory responses in two animals. Similarly, in later years, with a growing appreciation of the differences between the fundal and pyloric regions of the stomach, the location of the isolated sac acquired significance. See, e.g., Ia. Kh. Zavriev (Abo-Zavaridze), Fiziologiia i patologiia zheludochnykh zhelez sobaki (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1900), p. 155.

⁴⁵ Pavlov, Lektsii, pp. 102, 104 (Lectures, p. 73, 75); and Pavlov, "Fiziologicheskaia khirurgiia" (cit. n. 35), pp. 304-305.

⁴⁶ I. O. Lobasov, Otdelitel' naia rabota zheludka sobaki (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1896), pp. 30-31, 32-33.

⁴⁷ For the epigraph to this section see Ivan Pavlov, Lektsii po fiziologii (1911-1913), in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 5, p. 26.

⁴⁸ TsGIAP 2282.56.1 (1894):98; and Khizhin, Otdelitel'naia rabota (cit.n. 39), p. 153.

⁴⁹ V. G. Ushakov, "Laboratoriia Pavlova v Institute eksperimental'noi meditsiny," in Pavlov v vospominaniiakh, ed. Kreps, (cit.n. 19), pp. 246-250, on p. 248.

⁵⁰ Pavlov, Lektsii, pp. 11-12 (Lectures, p. ix).

⁵¹ The literature review almost invariably obeyed the following sequence: first, a statement about the fundamental importance of methodology; second, summaries of earlier research conducted in various laboratories; third, a statement about the cardinal methodological achievements of the Pavlov lab; and fourth, summaries of recent research, almost exclusively produced in the Pavlov lab.

⁵² A. A. Val'ter, Otdelitel'naia rabota podzheludochnoi zhelezy (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1897), p. 35; and A. S. Sanotskii, Vazbuditeli otdeleniia zheludochnogo soka (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1892), pp. 19, 16, 11, 51, 39. I have discovered only two exceptions to this pattern: both Popel'skii and Tolochinov refer in their work to "my" decisions and conclusions. Each subsequently clashed with the chief. See L. B. Popel'skii, O sekretorno-zaderzhivaiushchikh nervakh podzheludochoi zhelezy (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1896); and I. Tolotschinoff, "Contribution à l'étude de la physiologie et de la psychologie des glandes salivaires," in Comptes Rendus du Congrès des Naturalistes et Médecins du Nord (Helsinki, 1903), pp. 42-46.

⁵³ Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 137.

⁵⁴ I. S. Tsitovich, "Kak ia uchilsia i rabotai u Pavlova," in Pavlov v vospominaniiakh, ed. Kreps (cit. n. 19), pp. 251-264, on p. 260; and Babkin, Pavlov (cit. n. 3), pp. 116-117. Babkin adds: "Pavlov was not greatly interested in the general education in physiology even of his most earnest pupils. Once, at the very beginning of my work in his laboratory, I asked his advice on how best to learn physiology. He quickly replied: 'Read the Ergebnisse [der Physiologie] and so approach the subject gradually' and at once turned the conversation to laboratory matters."

⁵⁵ For the work to improve the dog-technology see V. N. Vasil'ev, O vliianii raznogo roda edy na deiatel'nost' podzheludochnoi zhelezy (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1893); and Iablonskii, Spetsificheskoe zabolevanie (cit. n. 41). For the work on exciters of pancreatic secretion see I. L. Dolinskii, O vlianii kislot na otdelenie soka podzheludochnoi zhelezy (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1894); I. O. Shirokikh, "Spetsificheskaia vozbudimost' slizistoi obolochki pishchevaritel'nago kanala," Arkh, Biolog. Nauk, 1895, 5:5; and N. I. Damaskin, "Deistvie zhira na otdelenie podzheludochnogo soka," Trudy Obsh. Russk. Vrach., Feb. 1896, pp. 7-14. For further work on the pancreas see Val'ter, Otdelitel'naia rabota (cit.n. 52); Popel'skii, O sekretornozaderzhivaiushchikh (cit.n. 52); A. R. Krever, K analizu otdelitel'noi raboty podzheludochnoi zhelezy (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1899); and W. Sawitsch [V. V. Savich], "Die Wirkung des Wagus auf Pancreas," in Comptes Rendus du Congrès des Naturalistes et Médecins du Nord (cit. n. 52), pp. 41-42.

⁵⁶ See note 79. P. Borissow [P. Borisov] and A. Walther [A. A. Val'ter], "Zur analyse der Saurewirkung auf die Pancreas secretion," in Comptes Rendus du Cong es des Naturalistes et Médecins du Nord, p. 42; V. V. Savich, "Mekhanizm otdeleniia podzheludochnago soka," Trudy Obsh. Russk. Vrach., Nov.-Dec. 1904, pp. 99-103; and Ia. A. Bukhshtab, "O rabote podzheludochnoi zhelezy posle pererezki vnutrennostnykh i bluzhdaiushchikh nervov," ibid., Mar.-May 1904, pp. 72-78.

⁵⁷ Ivan Pavlov to Vladimir Pavlov, 23 May [1912], in Perepiska Pavlova, ed. E. M. Kreps (Leningrd: Nauka, 1970), p. 427. One way of reading Gerald Geison's account of the competition between Louis Pasteur and Jean-Joseph Touissant is as a mismatch between a factory and a workshop. Touissant, in his workshop, was able to pursue only one line of investigation at a time, while Pasteur, in his factory, pursued several (including Touissant's). See Gerald L. Geison, The Private Science of Louis Pasteur (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1996), pp. 145-176.

⁵⁸ Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 138.

⁵⁹ See, e.g., N. D. Strazhesko, "Vospominaniia o vremeni, provedennom v laboratorii Ivana Petrovicha Pavlova," in Pavlov v vospominaniiakh, ed. Kreps (cit. n. 19), pp. 225-229, on p. 225.

⁶⁰ Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), pp. 227-228.

⁶¹ Tsitovich, "Kak ia uchilsia" (cit.n. 54), p. 255.

⁶²Ibid.; and Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), pp. 255 (sleepers), 138.

⁶³ Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 269; and A. F. Samoilov, "Obschaia kharakteristika issledovatel' skogo oblika I. P. Pavlova" (1925), in Pavlov v vospominaniiakh, ed. Kreps (cit.n. 19), pp. 203-218, on pp. 203-204.

⁶⁴ Babkin, Pavlov (cit.n. 3), p. 112. On Pavlov's singling out of work that interested him see, e.g., V. V. Savich, "Ivan Petrovich Pavlov: Biograficheskii ocherk," in Sbornik posviashchennyi 75-letiiu akademika I. P. Pavlova (Leningrad, 1924), pp. 3-31, esp. p. 24.

⁶⁵ L. A. Orbeli, "Pamiati Ivana Petrovicha Pavlova," in Pavlov v vospominaniiakh, ed. Kreps (cit. n. 19), pp. 162-175, on pp. 163-164.

⁶⁶ V. P. Kashkadamov, "Iz vospominanii o rabote v Institute eksperimental'noi meditsiny (1894-1897 gg.)," in Pavlov v vospominaniiakh, ed. Kreps, pp. 106-110, on p. 109; and Orbeli, "Pamiati," p. 164.

⁶⁷ Tsitovich, "Kak ia uchilsia" (cit.n. 54), p. 256.

⁶⁸ Orbeli, "Pamiati" (cit.n. 65), p. 171. See V. N. Boldyrev, Periodicheskaia rabota pishchevaritèl'nago apparata pri pustom zheludke (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1904). This episode also demonstrates how the acknowledged importance of the psyche could be used to explain away discordant results.

⁶⁹ E.g., frequent indications of possible humoral mechanisms in gastric secretion were systematically ignored or explained away. On Pavlov's temper see, e.g., Tsitovich, "Kak ia uchilsia" (cit. n. 54), where the former praktikant recalls that, when dissatisfied, Pavlov frequently screamed at coworkers and at himself: "Those surrounding him at such times girded themselves tightly, since at such a moment it was easy to fall victim to his hot hand" (p. 259).

⁷⁰ W. N. Boldyreff [V. N. Boldyrev], "I. P. Pavlov as a Scientist," Bulletin of the Rattle Creek Sanitarium, 1929, 24:212-229, on p. 224. My thanks to Gerald Geison for suggesting the term "literary products" in his very helpful response to an earlier version of the present manuscript. He employs it in his essay "Organization, Products, and Marketing in Pasteur's Scientific Enterprise" (unpublished manuscript, 1996).

⁷¹ Tsitovich, "Kak ia uchilsia" (cit.n. 54), p. 263.

⁷² Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 229.

⁷³ Tsitovich, "Kak ia uchilsia" (cit.n. 54), p. 263. We have already encountered it twice, in the quotations from Babkin and Orbeli cited in notes 64 and 65, above.

⁷⁴ Geison, Private Science of Pasteur (cit.n. 57), p. 237.

⁷⁵ Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 229. For an especially dramatic change in direction see Krever, K analizu (cit. n. 55). See also Khizhin, Otdelitel'naia rabota (cit. n. 39), pp. 104 (for a tentative suggestion), 117 (where, in a summary, it becomes a "quite definite conclusion"); similarly, compare Lobasov, Otdelitel'naia rabota (cit. n. 46), pp. 89, 98.

⁷⁶ Sanotskii, Vozbuditeli otdeleniia (cit.n. 52), p. 9; Val'ter, Otdelitel'naia rabota (cit. n. 52), pp. 23, 38; and Ia. A. Bukhshtab, Rabota podzheludochnoi zhelezy posle pererezki bluzhdaiushchikh i vnutrennostnykh nervov (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1904), pp. 45-46, 46.

⁷⁷ N. P. Kazanskii, Materialy k eksperimerital'noi patologa i eksperimental'noi terapii zheludochnykh zhelez sobaki (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1901), p. 22.

⁷⁸ Vasil'ev, O vliianii raznogo roda edy (cit.n. 55), p. 23; Krever, K analizu (cit.n. 55), p. 20; Zavriev, Fiziologiia i patologiia (cit.n. 44), p. 92; and Kazanskii, Materialy, pp. 27, 23-24.

⁷⁹ In my forthcoming book I explore in detail the processing of data and the relationship between knowledge claims, the literary products in which they were embedded, and the market for which they were intended. This processing involved the choice of a single "template dog" for each gland—Druzhok for the gastric glands and Zhuchka for the pancreas; the identification of "good" and "bad" experiments (and relatively "normal" and "abnormal" experimental animals) based on an assessment of "numberless factors," and a flexible, homegrown mathematical logic of "mean and instantiation." An important conceptual and rhetorical tool was the construction of "stereotypical curves" (rather than data charts). Constructed on the basis of mean data obtained from "good" experiments on the template dogs, these curves provided the background against which other experiments on other dogs were interpreted and presented publicly.

⁸⁰ An especially interesting case in point is the Pavlov sac. I have identified only one laboratory in which scientists claimed, by 1904, to have created their own dog with a Pavlov sac. Investigators there used this dog-technology not to verify or elaborate Pavlov's claims but, rather, to pursue their own clinical interests (one studied the effect of sugar upon gastric secretion; the other investigated the action of various medicines). See W. N. Clemm, "Uber die Beeinflussung der Magensaftabscheidung durch Zucker," Therapeutische Monatshefte, Aug. 1901, 15 :403-411; and F. Riegel, "Uber medicamentose Beeinflussung der Magensaftsecretion," Zeitschrift fur Klinische Medicin, 1899, 57:381-402. In subsequent years, the "stereotypical secretory curves" that Pavlov constructed through use of this sac fell into obscurity. The Pavlov sac itself, however, remained (and remains) useful to physiologists and so continued to be a source of his authority. Among Western scientists who had, by 1904, requested permission to come to St. Petersburg to study laboratory technologies were Walther Straub (ARAN 254.9.1286), Waldemar Koch (ARAN 254.9.1116), Hermann Munk (ARAN 254.9.1208), Johann Orth (ARAN 254.9.1216), G. Stewart (ARAN 254.9.1250), Ernest Stadler (ARAN 254.9.1284), F. A. Steeksma (ARAN 254.9.1285), and Alois Velich (ARAN 254.9.1119).

⁸¹ Pavlov, "Fiziologicheskaia khirurgiia" (cit.n. 35), p. 286. Pavlov offered a dog with esophagotomy and fistula to Robert Tigerstedt during the physiologist's visit to St. Petersburg in 1901 on behalf of the Nobel Prize Committee. See Robert Tigerstedt to Ivan Pavlov, 5 Sept., 17 Dec. 1901, ARAN 259.2.1117:2, 13-14; Russian translations of these letters are published in Perepiska Pavlova, ed. Kreps (cit. n. 57), pp. 193-194. Pavlov also presented the physiologist I. R. Tarkhanov with a dog-technology for use in his lectures at St. Petersburg University. See Babkin, Pavlov (manuscript), p. 24.

⁸² Tarkhanov, "Fiziologiia" (cit.n. 26), p. 768. Among the Western physiologists who asked Pavlov for samples of the gastric juice produced in his lab were H. J. Hamburger (ARAN 254.9.182), Carl Lewin (ARAN 254.9.1188), F. Rollin (ARAN 254.9.1232), Paul Mayer (ARAN 254.9.1375), and Nobel Prize Committee members Robert Tigerstedt and Karl Morner.

⁸³ I address this history in a chapter of my forthcoming book entitled "Gastric Juice for Sale: The Laboratory's Gift to the Clinic." On the development of this treatment see I. P. Pavlov and E. O. Shumova-Simanovskaia, "Innervatsiia zheludochnykh zhelez u sobak" (1890), in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 2, Pt. 1, pp. 175-199, on p. 180; and P. N. Konovalov, Prodazhnye pepsiny v sravnenii s normal'nym zheludochnym sokom (Military-Medical Academy Doctoral Dissertation Series) (St. Petersburg, 1893). On clinical results in Russia see A. A. Troianov, "O gastroenterostomii," Trudy Obsh. Russk. Vrach., Nov. 1893, p. 28; and A. A. Finkel'shtein, "Lechenie estestvennym zheludochnym sokom," Vrach, 1900, 32:963-965. For Pavlov's insistence upon his priority see his "Istoricheskaia zametka ob otdelitel'noi rabote zheludka" (1896), in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 2, Pt. 1, pp. 320-322; and Pavlov, Lektsii, p. 30 (Lectures, p. 10). For an example of patriotic Russian reactions to the vogue of gastric juice treatment in France at the turn of the century see Vrach, 1900, 6:179.

⁸⁴ These future physiologists (with their dates in the lab) were A. F. Samoilov (1892-1895), L. B. Popel'skii (1896-1897), A. A. Val'ter (1896-1902), V. V. Savich (1900-1904, 1907, 1915), V. N. Boldyrev (1900-1911), B. P. Babkin (1902-1904, 1912), L. A. Orbeli (1901-1915), and I. S. Tsitovich (1901-1903, 1911). Val'ter, Savich, Boldyrev, Orbeli, and Babkin developed long-term working relations with the laboratory atypical for praktikanty; the chief clearly perceived them as the beginnings of a "Pavlov school." His favorite, Val'ter, died in a train accident in 1902. Boldyrev and Babkin emigrated after the Bolsheviks took power in 1917 and built successful careers as physiologists in the United States and Canada. With Pavlov's help, Savich became a professor of pharmacology (a discipline that Pavlov viewed as properly the province of physiology); and Orbeli became a renowned physiologist and powerful scientific entrepreneur, inheriting his mentor's empire upon Pavlov's death.

⁸⁵ I. P. Pavlov, "Sovremennoe ob'edinenie v eksperimente glavneishikh storon meditsiny na primere pishchevareniia," (1899), in Pavlov, Polnoe Sobrante Sochinenii, Vol. 2, Pt. 1, pp. 247-284, on p. 270. This pattern is clear from the protocols of the society's discussions, an edited version of which is republished ibid., Vol. 6. These edited versions often omit critical comments by other discussants, leaving the misleading impression that Pavlov always had the final word.

⁸⁶ The ups and downs of Pavlov's candidacy are evident in the reports of 1901-1904 in P. M. Forsandelser och Betankanden in the Nobel Archives. Some of these are discussed in Windholz and Kuppers, "Pavlov and the Nobel Prize Award" (cit. n. 1). For Pavlov's mobilization of the laboratory to impress the Nobel judges see Babkin, Pavlov (cit.n. 3), p. 82. One Nobel judge, Robert Tigerstedt, requested in a letter of 17 Dec. 1901 that Pavlov send him "a little natural gastric juice." Six years later, when Tigerstedt embarked on a study of animal fluids, he requested "gastric juice and, if possible, other digestive juices." See ARAN 259.2.1117:2, 13-14; and Perepiska Pavlova, ed. Kreps (cit. n. 57), pp. 194, 197-198. In 1902, after attempting unsuccessfully to create an esophagotomized dog according to Pavlov's instructions, another Nobel judge, Karl Morner, received a shipment of gastric juice from the nominee. See ARAN 259.9.1206. My thanks to Sander Gliboff for deciphering Morner's German script.

⁸⁷ The view of Pavlov's "intellectual property" comes from J. H. Johansson and Robert Tigerstedt's assessment of July 1901, after their trip to Pavlov's lab: "Rapport afgifven till den Medicinska Nobelkomiteens fran J. E. Johansson och Robert Tigerstedt Juli 1901," in P. M. Forsandelser och Betankanden, 1901, p. 9, Nobel Archives. The second quotation presents Karl Morner's sympathetic summary of Johansson and Tigerstedt's position in "Betankande ar 1903 angaende J. P. Pawlow," in P. M. Forsandelser och Betankanden, 1903, p. 3.