Abstract

Primates have been studied by more people, from more angles, for longer periods of time than any other vertebrates. Primate studies have existed for over fifty years and have attracted leagues of students from diverse backgrounds to studies of primate behavior, ecology, and evolution. The nature of the primates and their students has insured that the field has enjoyed considerable public exposure. Most people with access to a television have watched programs in which the lives of baboons, chimps, or gorillas have been interpreted by a primatologist, either on screen or behind the scenes. Shirley Strum and Linda Fedigan's marvelous edited volume examines the totality of this phenomenon—the motivation behind the studies, the students, the media, and the practitioners of science studies who provide contemporary commentary on the whole mess.In the Wenner‐Gren Foundation–sponsored conference that led to their book, Strum and Fedigan's goal was to investigate how and why ideas about primate society have changed in the short lifespan of the discipline. The book does this and more. It is an all‐encompassing examination of the adaptations and survival of a discipline through fifty years of changing intellectual fashions, increasing publicity, and an ever‐changing backdrop of “general knowledge” and public expectations about science. The book's four major sections deal, in turn, with the perspectives of the pioneers of primatology, the diversity of national traditions involved in primate studies, intellectual currents in the related fields of cultural anthropology, archaeology, and psychology, and models of science and society through the lens of primate studies. Thanks to this well‐conceived framework, the reader steps through an experiential history of primate studies that is vivid, lively, and filled with significant scientific and social insights. Each section is concluded with a printed exchange of e‐mails among the contributors, modern versions of the texts of discussions featured in symposium volumes from decades past. These exchanges are the soul of the book, for it is in these that the personal motivations, grudges, and agendas of the participants emerge.One of the most important themes explored in the book is that of gender and, specifically, to what extent the gender of primatologists has influenced their science and the way it is portrayed. Not only does this involve a complete exploration of Jane Goodall and Dian Fossey hagiography but also examinations of the impact that women have had in elucidating the roles of female primates in their societies and, thereby, in achieving comprehensive views of primate social dynamics. This theme, in turn, is closely tied to the most interesting set of interactions played out in the book, between the primatologists and the practitioners of science studies. One doesn't quite know here who is watching whom, but the result is a balanced examination of what science in general means to people who don't identify themselves as scientists and how scientific knowledge is translated into public knowledge. In this age of growing “antiscience” sensibilities in the humanities and the public sphere, this contribution alone makes the book essential reading.The shortcomings of the book are few: the chapters providing commentary on related disciplines do not make consistent comparisons with primatology, and at least a few of the authors don't seem to know or care about the entire premise of the book. But this is a very small problem in a book that is otherwise outstanding. The editors have produced a multifaceted, retrospective volume that is neither self‐congratulatory nor self‐pitying. It is an insightful treatment of how science really works, how it is portrayed, and how it becomes the fodder for its own science. I don't know any biologist or historian of science who would not benefit immensely from reading this book