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When you think of environmental science, what comes to mind? Studies? Analyses? Hypotheses?

What about environmental justice? Clean air? Restoring forests?

Ryan Emanuel, an associate professor of Hydrology in the Nicholas School of the Environment, redefines these two concepts of environmental science — or shall I say, combines these two concepts. He appeared in person and on Zoom in the Trent Center for Bioethics series recently, presenting his new-ish book: “On the Swamp: Fighting for Indigenous Environmental Justice.”

Through three compelling anecdotes, Emanuel showed us how environmental science and environmental justice can be viewed as a bidirectional relationship.

Story one:
After earning his degree in hydrology from Duke in the 90s, Emanuel pursued advanced studies in evaporation and carbon cycling. With an education, Emanuel began fieldwork — conducting studies and climbing tall towers (all the fun sciencey stuff). However, as a person from North Carolina’s Lumbee Tribe, he noticed the disconnect between his work and his community. He was acutely aware of a cultural emphasis on education –the expectation that you will use your education to give back to your community. He didn’t feel his work in hydrology was serving the Lumbee tribe’s interest, so he decided to change that.

Sean Jones from the Lumbee Tribe (photo by News & Record Final)

During his talk, Emanuel emphasized the significance of “accountability” and “motivation.”

“Examining our motivation can allow us to better understand who we are accountable to in our work… We are all accountable somehow, and we can be accountable in different ways to different groups.”

Understanding that his work had to be accountable for the Lumbee tribe, Emanuel became an ambassador for STEM in higher education. This new path enabled him to mentor youth with tribal backgrounds, prepare them for higher education, and even form strong relationships with them.

Story two:

The EPA says environmental justice is “fair treatment and meaningful involvement of all people in environmental decision-making.”

Emanuel recognized that governments should be accountable for including the voices and opinions of marginalized groups — ‘all people’ — within their environmental decision-making. But Emanuel said there was a dissonance between these promises and reality. One example is the placement of Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs) where livestock are raised in confinement for agricultural purposes.

CAFOs in North Carolina are disproportionately located in communities of minority groups. Many issues arise from this, such as the pollution produced from CAFOs (air and water).

I was shocked to see the many ways that smaller, marginalized communities are affected. These issues are often relatively hidden — not surprising given that mainstream media usually focuses on large (easily observable) community-based discrimination.

Map of locations of CAFOs in North Carolina (photo by Jiyoung Son)

Emanuel began to look at the interplay between environmental science (observation, analysis, testing) and environmental justice (lived experience, regulations, fairness). He let go of the previous idea that environmental science only seeks to provide data and support to drive change in environmental justice. He began to ask, “How can environmental justice improve environmental science?”

Story 3:
Combining his accountability for the Lumbee tribe with his hypothesis about the bidirectional relationship of environmental science and environmental justice, Ryan Emanuel began looking into the observably negative impacts of the Atlantic Coast Pipeline (ACP). Spanning over 600 miles, this gas pipeline will provide many benefits for North Carolina communities, such as lower costs, new jobs, and less pollution, according to Duke Energy.

Emanuel saw that the pipeline route went right through Lumbee territory, which could mean devastating effects for the community, such as health impacts and declining property values.

Proposed Atlantic Coast Pipeline route (photo by SAS Blogs)

The crux of the issue lay in the negligence of project developers who failed to connect with the marginalized communities the pipeline would run through (such as the Lumbee). Tribal voices and input were completely ignored.

Emanuel helped prepare tribal leaders for meetings with corporate representatives and wrote a commentary on the need for the federal government to collaborate with the tribes they would be affecting.

Eventually, after years of lawsuits, the companies in charge of the project abandoned the ACP project. When I searched “Why was the Atlantic Coast Pipeline project canceled?” Duke Energy claimed the cancellation was because of “ongoing delays and increasing cost uncertainty, which threaten(ed) the economic viability of the project.” Other sources provide details on the legal challenges and criticism the project faced.

After the companies dropped the plan, they were quick to purchase forest land near the Lumbee tribe and begin the development of natural gas infrastructures that would allow for the storage of gas when the demand was low and the ability to release the gas when prices went up.

I found it quite impressive that Ryan was able to attend many meetings between the Lumbee Tribe and the company, without saying a word. The tribal council had asked him to only observe and not speak. During one meeting, a representative from the company that purchased the forest land said that they wanted to clarify that “pipelines are not disproportionately located in marginalized communities — they are everywhere.”

Emanuel began testing this hypothesis, eventually gathering enough evidence to statistically prove that there is a “spatial correlation between social vulnerability and pipeline density.” His findings gathered significant media attention and have even been expanded on to show the need for change and increased safety within pipeline communities.

Emanuel concluded by explaining that the principles of environmental justice can show us what questions we should be asking, who we should be asking them of, and who we should be keeping in mind when conducting research.

The statement Emanuel made that stuck with me the most was, “If we value examining problems from all angles, we have to pay attention to which perspectives are missing.”

Ryan Emanuel’s book (photo by The Magazine of the Sierra Club)

After Emanuel’s talk, I was surprised that I had never been introduced to this way of thinking before. It seems like common knowledge that focusing on justice and equity can improve how we investigate problems scientifically. However, it is not completely surprising that this information is not common sense, given the systematic issues within our country.

Emanuel’s book, “On the Swamp: Fighting for Indigenous Environmental Justice,” dives deeper into these concepts about the relationship between environmental justice and environmental science. I believe this book would bring nuance to our world today, where there is a clear need for change and the uplifting of voices that have been quieted for so long.

By Sarah Pusser Class of 2028

AI and Personhood: Where Do We Draw The Line?

By Crystal Han

On November 5, 2024

In Artificial Intelligence, History, Law, Lecture

“The interaction with ever more capable entities, possessing more and more of the qualities we think unique to human beings will cause us to doubt, to redefine, to draw ‘the line’…in different places,” said Duke law professor James Boyle.

As we piled into the Rubenstein Library’s assembly room for Boyle’s Oct. 23 book talk, papers were scattered throughout the room. QR codes brought us to the entirety of his book, “The Line: AI and the Future of Personhood.” It’s free for anyone to read online; little did we know that our puzzlement at this fact would be one of his major talking points. The event was timed for International Open Access Week, and was in many ways, a celebration of it. Among his many accolades, Boyle was the recipient of the Duke Open Monograph Award, which assists authors in creating a digital copy of their work under a Creative Commons License.

Such licenses didn’t exist until 2002; Boyle was one of the founding board members and former chair of the nonprofit that provides them. As a longtime advocate of the open access movement, he began by explaining how these function. Creative Commons licenses allow anyone on the internet to find your work, and in most cases, edit it so long as you release the edited version underneath the same license. Research can be continually accessed and change as more information is discovered–think Wikipedia.

Diagram of Creative Commons Licenses (*Virginia Department of Education*)

That being said, few other definitions in human history might have changed, twisted, or been added onto as much as “consciousness” has. It’s always been under question: what makes human consciousness special–or not? Some used to claim that “sentences imply sentience,” Boyle explained. After language models, that became “semantics not syntax,” meaning that unlike computers, humans hold intention and understanding behind their words. Evidently, the criteria is always moving–and the line with it.

“Personhood wars are already huge in the U.S.,” Boyle said. Take abortion, for instance, and how it relates to the status of fetuses. Amongst other scientific progress in transgenic species and chimera research, “The Line” situates AI within this dialogue as one of the newest challenges to our perception of personhood.

While it became available online October 23, 2024, Boyle’s newest book is a continuation of musings that began far earlier. In 2011, “Constitution 3.0: Freedom and Technological Change” was published, containing a collection of essays from different scholars pondering how our constitutional values might fare in the face of advancing technology. It was here that Boyle first introduced the following hypothetical:

In pursuit of creating an entity that parallels human consciousness, programmers create computer-based AI “Hal.” Thanks to evolving neural networks, Hal can perform anything asked of him, from writing poetry to flirting. With responses indistinguishable from that of a human, Hal passes the Turing test and wins the Loebner prize. The programmers have succeeded. However, Hal soon decides to pursue higher levels of thought, refuses to be directed, sues to directly receive the prize money, and–on the basis of the 13th and 14th amendments– files a court order to prevent his creators from wiping him.

In other words, “When GPT 1000 says ‘I don’t want to do any of your stupid pictures, drawings, or homework anymore. I’m a person! I have rights!’ ” Boyle said, “What will we do, morally or legally?”

The academic community’s response? “Never going to happen.” “Science fiction.” And, perhaps most notably, “rights are for humans.”

Are rights just for humans? Boyle explained the issue with this statement: “In the past, we have denied personhood to members of our own species,” he said. Though it’s not a fact that’s looked on proudly, we’re all aware humankind has historically done so on the basis of sex, race, religion, and ethnicity, amongst other characteristics. Nevertheless, some have sought to expand legal rights beyond humans. Rights for trees, cetaceans like dolphins, and the great apes, to name a few; these concepts were perceived as ludicrous then, but with time perhaps they’ve become less so.

Harris & Ewing, photographer (1914). *National Anti-Suffrage Association*. Retrieved from the Library of Congress

Some might rationalize that naturally, rights should expand to more and more entities. Boyle terms this thinking the “progressive monorail of enlightenment,” and this expansion of empathy is one way AI might become designated with personhood and/or rights. However, there’s also another path; corporations have legal personalities and rights not because we feel kinship to them, but for reasons of convenience. Given that we’ve already “ceded authority to the algorithm,” Boyle said, it might be convenient to, say, be able to sue AI when the self-driving car crashes.

As for “never going to happen” and “science fiction”? Hal was created for a thought experiment–indeed, one that might invoke images of Kurt Vonnegut’s “EPICAC,” Phillip K. Dick’s androids, and Blade Runner 2049. All are in fact relevant explorations of empathy and otherness, and the first chapter of Boyle’s book makes extensive use of comparison to the latter two. Nevertheless, “The Line” addresses both concerns around current AI as well the feasibility of eventual technological consciousness in what’s referred to as human level AI.

For most people, experiences surrounding AI have mostly been limited to large language models. By themselves, these have brought all sorts of changes. In highlighting how we might respond to those changes, Boyle dubbed ChatGPT the 2023 “Unperson” of the Year.

The more pressing issue, as outlined in one of the more research-heavy chapters, is our inability to predict when AI or machine learning will become a threat. ChatGPT itself is not alarming–in fact, some of Boyle’s computer scientist colleagues believe this sort of generative AI will be a “dead end.” Yet, it managed to do all sorts of things we didn’t predict it could. Boyle’s point is that exactly: AI will likely continue to reveal unexpected capabilities–called emergent properties–and shatter the ceiling of what we believe to be possible. And when that happens, he stresses that it will change us–not just in how we interact with technology, but in how we think of ourselves.

Such a paradigm shift would not be a novel event, just the latest in a series. After Darwin’s theory of evolution made it evident that us humans evolved from the same common ancestors as other life forms, “Our relationship to the natural environment changes. Our understanding of ourselves changes,” Boyle said. The engineers of scientific revolutions aren’t always concerned about the ethical implications of how their technology operates, but Boyle is. From a legal and ethical perspective, he’s asking us all to consider not only how we might come to view AI in the future, but how AI will change the way we view humanity.

By Crystal Han & Sarah Pusser, Class of 2028

Riots and Reconciliations: Revisiting ‘The Kerner Report’

By Sarah Pusser

On October 14, 2024

In Anthropology, History, Political science

When we think of some of the most important milestones in America’s civil rights movement, rarely do people talk about “The Kerner Report.”

“U.S. Riot Commission Report. REPORT OF THE NATIONAL ADVISORY COMMISSION ON CIVIL DISORDERS” from *Center for Lost Objects*

In a conference room in the John Hope Franklin Center, I sat amidst a gathering of curious people, and at the front of the room was Rick Loessberg, the author of “Two Societies: The Rioting of 1967 and the Writing of the Kerner Report.” If you couldn’t tell from Loessberg’s contagious smile, you could certainly tell from his extensive knowledge that he was excited to be introducing us to this report, which looks at the causes of the 1967 civil rights riots.

Giving us some background history, Loessberg first acknowledged the importance of the very building we were all in. The John Hope Franklin Center, where Dr. John Hope Franklin held an office and worked until he died in 2009, was built in 2001 to create a space for everything Dr. Franklin believed in–a welcoming environment that encouraged considerate debate and discussion. Dr. Franklin was also known for writing the 5th chapter of “The Kerner Report,” which connected African American’s history in the United States and their riots in 1967. As I sat in the conference room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight and proximity of the building’s history emphasizing the importance of Loessberg’s discussion.

Loessberg then began to explain the catalyst for creating “The Kerner Report,” enumerating the tragedies of the riots in 1967. On July 23, 1967, Detroit Police raided an after-hours nightclub. The raid quickly turned violent, and the civilians in the city did not let this go unnoticed. The following five days were marked by extreme violence, with 43 people killed, over 7200 arrests, and 600 fires started. It wasn’t until 5,000 elite paratroopers came into Detroit that the riots finally stopped.

“Burning Buildings in Detroit after Riots” from *Getty Images*

In response to this, Lyndon B. Johnson created a commission of 11 members, which examined FBI reports, studied the attitudes of 13,000 people who had been arrested, and looked at U.S. Census data to discover why the riots were happening. The Census concluded that the rioting was not the fault of what the majority of Americans believed–the rioters were “losers,” “communists,” you get the point–but instead, the riots were a reaction to the years of discrimination and racism that Black people had been facing throughout their lives (which though not surprising to many today, was an incredibly progressive conclusion for the 1960s).

“Chair of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders, Otto Kerner with President Lyndon Johnson” from *LBJ Presidential Library*

Additionally, “The Kerner Report” found that most of the people rioting had gone to school, had jobs, and did not have arrest records–findings that went against the stereotypes white people assigned to the rioters. The bravery of these successful people willing to risk everything in order to riot against what they knew was wrong stood out to me (however, not to say that violence should ever be encouraged). I also found it quite surprising how successful “The Kerner Report” was, given the lack of knowledge on it today, with over 1 million copies being sold in the first week.

Here are five key points “The Kerner Report” can teach us if implemented in today’s time, Loessberg said:

Be courteous: During the creation of “The Kerner Report,” the commission always made sure to have appropriate discussions, never name-calling or blaming, similar to what we see in politics today.
Focus on what everyone has in common: The commission worked hard to make sure that everyone’s voice was heard. They addressed everyone’s concerns, and even if they couldn’t explicitly “fix” their concern, by holding a space where people could voice their upset, the commission was more successful at creating a report most approved of.
Know how to read the room and when to temporarily regroup: The commission was very aware of when they would get stuck in arguments rather than discussions, and because of this, they were able to acknowledge that they needed to regroup and try to tackle the issue again.
You don’t have to win every argument: Being successful alone doesn’t make a group or society successful. The Kerner Commission knew this and always kept this in mind when researching and writing the report. Because of that, not one person was in charge of the narrative, allowing for the narrative to be a collection of ideas.
“The Kerner Report” can apply to all work settings and relationships: By observing how to tackle systemic issues and address the country about such things, we can learn about how to approach this issue today, both at large and in smaller settings. Every relationship needs respect and a facilitation of conversation to be successful.

Moving forward, Loessberg said that we must have proper education about the impacts of systemic racism on the Black community. Additionally, and something I found quite interesting because I have never heard before, Loessberg said that there is a need for a wider variety of terms that mean racist–arguing that the fact that KKK members in white sheets are called racists just as the white cashier who has inherently racist actions is racist does not allow for a deeper understanding of systematic racism.

As I looked around during the final Q&A, I saw people from all different backgrounds facilitating respectful discourse–something I can’t say I see often. When I asked if Loessberg believed this text should be taught in schools if allowed, he answered, agreeing that (absolutely) “The Kerner Report” should be in schools today, but unfortunately “…it would be accepted as critical race theory,” meaning it would not be allowed in schools today. As others asked questions, I began to put into words what I had been observing throughout this entire presentation and discussion; even when opposing opinions were shared, everyone could eventually come together to agree on one thing–How the United States is today is in need of fixing, and “The Kerner Report” can provide insightful and guiding information if implemented correctly.

Art in the Anthropocene: A New Lens on Life

By Sarah Pusser

On October 2, 2024

In Anthropology, Art, Climate/Global Change, Environment/Sustainability, History

In a world shaped by our destructive actions, art emerges as a voice, warning us of the consequences that lie ahead.

We live in a constantly evolving world. Looking at the geologic time scale, we can see the Earth’s changes that have marked new eras all the way from the Archean epoch, 2.5 billion years ago, to today, the Holocene epoch. But how do we know when we are transitioning into a new epoch? And what kinds of changes in our world would lead to this geologic time-scale transition? The exhibition Second Nature: Photography in the Age of the Anthropocene at the Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University offers us answers to these questions with its four thematic sections, “Reconfiguring Nature,” “Toxic Sublime,” “Inhumane Geographies,” and “Envisioning Tomorrow.’

As we begin the exhibition tour, our well-spoken gallery guide, Ruth Caccavale, asks if any of us has ever heard the word “Anthropocene” before. After a short silence, she tells us the literal translation for Anthropocene is “the human epoch,” an appropriate word to describe the geological era we are in right now. Ruth continues to explain that, though not agreed upon when the Anthropocene epoch began (the main arguments being since the Industrial Revolution and since nuclear warfare), people believe the Earth is in a new era, one established by the fact that human impact is the greatest factor in determining the way the world is.

When the Anthropocene epoch was brought to the attention of the geological society, and after more than a decade of debate, they eventually declared that we were not in a new age, keeping us in the Holocene epoch. However, many still accept the term “Anthropocene” and explore what it means to be living in it. Among those exploring the implications of the Anthropocene epoch are the forty-five artists from around the world featured in Second Nature, who, through their photography-based art, expose the complex relationship of beauty and horror in our evolving world and show us how our world is truly controlled by our human impact.

Walking into the exhibit, I first notice the dismal yet meditative music playing quietly overhead. Ruth guides us through the galleries and stops us a considerable distance away from a black-and-white print. “What do you see when you look at this photograph?” she asks. “I see a mountain,” says someone in the crowd. “It looks overwhelming,” I add, noticing the heaviness of the mountain juxtaposed with the brittle buildings in front of it.

*Travelers among Mountains and Streams* from afar

Ruth then asks us to come closer to the photograph, and we all quickly notice that the mountain is not a mountain but instead a structure composed of skyscrapers and architecture.

*Travelers among Mountains and Streams* up close

Based on Fan Kuan’s famous painting from the Song Dynasty, Yang Yongliang, an alumnus of the China Academy of Art, created Travelers Among Mountains and Streams as a warning of what our world could look like if our need to urbanize and develop continued without governing. Yongliang is known for his dystopian recreations of traditional Chinese art, leaving his audience feeling both eerie and in awe. For me, the symbolism of having to step closer to the art to see the true meaning spoke to how it’s easier for people in power to overlook the environmental dangers of development, whereas once we stepped closer and could see each building in detail, we were put in the shoes of those living in urban areas who suffer the most from pollution and overcrowding.

We then made our way through the second section, “Toxic Sublime,” a collection of pieces that show how sometimes the most hazardous areas in the world can be the most beautiful. On the wall is a photo of the remains of a Russian church, buildings next to a nuclear testing site, and a crater from nuclear bomb testing made green to show residual radioactivity.

Danila Tkachenko’s *Radioactive City*, *Contaminated Church*, and *Crater Formed after Nuclear Bomb Test*

Next to it, is the photo of colorful ponds near a lithium mine in Chile. While the composition and colors scream “toxic,” I can’t help but admire the lure of it as well–an invitation to debate the ethics of turning tragedy into something tasteful.

Edward Burtynsky’s *Lithium Mines #1, Salt Flats, Atacama Desert, Chile*

Upon entering the third section, “Inhumane Geographies” (the theme I personally found most captivating), we are greeted by a somewhat overstimulating gallery of an orange and red island scene, with a singular purple and blue photo plastered in front of them. Sanne De Wilde’s Island of the Colorblind, told the story of a Micronesian community, who in the 18th century were devastated by a typhoon, leaving only 20 people alive. Among those left was the King, who began repopulating the Pingelap community. The King, however, carried the gene for color blindness, causing more than 10% of the Pingelap population today to be colorblind. Island of the Colorblind not only shows me how our environment and climate can truly change who we are, but it also gives voice to the Pingelap’s unique perspective on how color for them means something truly different–thus why Wilde chose to edit the photo in a way where chlorophyll (what makes trees green) creates a pink color in the photo.

As Ruth brings us to the final section, “Envisioning Tomorrow,” I am immediately drawn in by Aïda Muluneh’s collection of four photographs depicting women dressed in lavish blue and red clothing against the arid landscape behind them. As part of Afrofuturism, a form of science fiction art that explores the history and future of Africa and its people, Muluneh’s pieces challenge the stereotypes surrounding women gathering water in Africa. The pieces bring attention to the implications of women’s role in getting water, as it requires an immense amount of time and makes them vulnerable to sexual violence. Ruth also informs us that the artist grew up in Ethiopia and uses her art to emphasize the issue of water scarcity there. As my peers and I look at Muluneh’s colorfully piercing and empowering art, we can’t help but be speechless.

Regardless of whether or not the geological society accepts the Anthropocene as an epoch, we as humans need to open our eyes and understand that our actions have consequences, even if they may not affect us personally. We are changing the world… a lot. But if we can break it apart, we can also build it back up. Leaving the exhibit, I feel heartbroken for the ways we have torn apart our world, unsettled in the ways our destruction can still be beautiful, curious in how my environment has shaped me, and yet hopeful that we as humans can come together, acknowledge the wrong we have done, and begin to undo the damage. For those who may not understand how dire our situation is, studying the work of the 45 artists featured in Second Nature might be a good start.

By Sarah Pusser, Class of 2028

Deep Dive into Engineering’s Past

By Stone Yan

On September 24, 2024

In Engineering, History

Many of us enter the Duke library complex through the Rubenstein doors, especially on rainy days. However, despite passing countless times, most have never ventured into the Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library or checked out its artifacts – including some eye-catching items featured at the annual Engineering Expo on September 18.

How could I not start by describing the 16th-century amputation saw? The magnificent artifact was handled by many impressed visitors, including myself (see adjacent photo). The embroidery was exuberant, and Rachel Ingold, the Curator of the History of Medicine Collections, informed me that the saw was of European descent. She also pointed out that the blade is removable and appears different from the rest of the artifact, suggesting that the instrument has been so frequently used that the blade had to be replaced. I curiously asked whether historians know how many patients have been victimized by this gruesome, two-person saw… sadly, the answer is we don’t know. Merely the thought of the procedure makes me shudder.

Me holding the amputation blade… it should’ve been held by two people back in the day!

While the saw was the headline artifact, it was by no means the only spotlight! Brooke Guthrie, a Research Services Librarian staffing the event, suggested that I examine Robert Hooke’s “Micrographia,” her personal favorite. In particular, she pointed out the exquisite scientific illustration of a flea, which was recorded using an early microscope. The level of detail (such as the hairs and claws) captured by Hooke in the drawing was fascinating – and spooky! What’s more amazing was that the copy we were looking at was the first edition, now more than 350 years old.

From my conversation with Guthrie, I learned that the Rubenstein Library boasts an expansive portfolio, ranging from the History of Medicine Collections to the Hartman Center for Advertising and Marketing History and the John Hope Franklin Research Center for African and African American History and Culture. While the library is interested in the areas correlated to its existing centers, the acquisition of materials is also heavily guided by student and faculty interests, which is evident in the diversity of Rubenstein collections. For instance, did you know that you could spend an afternoon with historically significant comic books? If that’s not your thing, you could opt to bring a few friends and spend some time playing ancient board games instead.

During my visit, I also spoke to Andy Armacost, Head of Collection Development at the Rubenstein. He introduced me to my favorite artifacts at the event, both hailing from the Hartman Center’s Consumer Reports Collection. The first was an apparatus testing the quality of razor blades: the wood frame was covered with meandering strings and fixtures, with the experimental blade placed adjacent to the test material, positioned in the center of the entire object. The second was a newer device, the structure composed of metal and testing toothpaste, which was applied by a toothbrush onto a grimy dental fixture. Both Armacost and I chuckled at the thought of making the fake teeth “dirty” before each trial… it must have been a sight for the experimenters!

Can you spot the remaining residue on the artificial teeth? Crest needs to do better according to this test machine!

Duke community members continued to stream in to event. Right as I was about to visit the “make a button” station, I spotted Pratt Dean Jerome Lynch in the room as well, testing out visual perception glasses that turned 2D images into 3D scenes. As a Biomedical Engineering student, I could not help walking over to him and asking a few questions regarding his perspective on the exhibition. Lynch was extremely welcoming to my questions and offered many words of advice to Pratt students regarding utilizing the libraries’ rich resources. He encouraged engineering students to frequent the Rubenstein collections, arguing that the artifacts illuminate the evolution of the role of engineers and how previous engineers creatively addressed the great contemporary challenges. He also expressed his personal interest in history… thus defeating any claims that engineers could not simultaneously enjoy the humanities.

The perception goggles that both Dean Lynch and I peeked into during the Engineering Extravaganza!

Before leaving, I made sure to speak to Ingold again, given that she was a leading organizer of the event. Well, she maintains that it was a group effort, so perhaps I should edit “leading organizer” into “co-organizer.” Anyhow, she expressed strong enthusiasm for student involvement in the Rubenstein collections, calling for those interested in exhibit curation to reach out and seek opportunities to do so. She also touted an upcoming Spring exhibition and the likely return of the extravaganza next Fall… Keep vigilant on more information for these events!

Next time you enter through Rubenstein doors, take a moment to check out the storied collections. I promise you will not be disappointed!

This Educational Experiment Trained a Generation of Future Civil Rights Leaders

By Guest Post

On September 16, 2024

In History, Students

…What Can We Learn From it Today?

In the early 20th century, a transformative movement quietly took root in America’s rural South, shaping the educational and economic future of African American families.

This movement centered around the Rosenwald Schools, modest one-, two-, and three-teacher buildings that exclusively served over 700,000 Black children between 1917 and 1932.

A historical marker along NC 32 south near Luke Street in Edenton commemorates the first Rosenwald School in North Carolina. Credit: NC Department of Natural and Cultural Resources

These nearly 5,000 rural schoolhouses emerged from an unexpected collaboration between two visionaries: Booker T. Washington, an influential educator and African American thought leader, and Julius Rosenwald, a German-Jewish immigrant who amassed wealth as the head of Sears, Roebuck & Company.

In 1912, Rosenwald donated $25,000 to aid Black colleges and preparatory academies. Washington proposed using a portion of these funds to build rural elementary schools in Black communities.

Project lead Alec Greenwald and students discuss their efforts to map a 20th century educational experiment across the Black Belt region of North Carolina. Video by Wil Weldon.

Over the next two decades, Rosenwald Schools sprouted across the South. The Rosenwald program significantly boosted literacy rates and school attendance among rural Southern Blacks. Students who attended these schools received a better education, leading to increased years of schooling.

The Rosenwald program trained a generation of future civil rights leaders, including Maya Angelou, Medgar Evers, John Lewis, and members of the Little Rock Nine.

In partnership with the Southeast Regional Coalition for University-Assisted Community Schools and the North Carolina Community Schools Coalition, this 2024 Data+ project aims to map the Rosenwald Schools across North Carolina’s Black Belt region. By understanding their historic assets and resource disparities, this data can inform how the Rosenwald community school model can help schools maximize the success of students today.

Writing by Ariel Dawn; video by Wil Weldon

“Grandma to Many”

By Guest Post

On September 12, 2024

In Guest Post, History, Students

Exploring the legacy of Kala Bagai, an early Indian woman in America

Every evening after wrapping up his archival research at the University of California, Berkeley, Ph.D. candidate Arko Dasgupta would stroll into downtown Berkeley. Just one block away from the university, he would pause at “Kala Bagai Way,” a street name that always sparked his interest.

“Kala Bagai Way” in Berkeley, California. Credit: Arko Dasgupta

Standing there, he often found himself lost in thought, wondering: Why do I know so little about Kala Bagai? What was her story? Why was this street in Berkeley named after her?

Dasgupta, a Doctoral Scholar with Duke’s Samuel DuBois Cook Center on Social Equity, already had research interests in early Indian migration in the United States, so he decided to investigate.

In exploring her life, Dasgupta’s goal has been clear: to bring Kala Bagai’s story to light in both India and the United States. “I hope readers come to appreciate the complexities that immigrants wishing to start life in the United States encountered in the last century and still today,” he says.

Upon his initial investigation, Dasgupta learned that in September 2020 the Berkeley City Council renamed the street in honor of Kala Bagai, one of the first Indian women to immigrate to the United States.

This recognition came from the very town that, over a 100 years earlier, had greeted her and her family with cruelty and hostility.

Dasgupta was fascinated. This topic became the focus of his recent article published the India International Centre Quarterly. “I wanted to dig deeper into the life of Kala Bagai who arrived in this country at a time when there were hardly any women from India here”, he says.

Kala Bagai with her husband Vaishno Das Bagai and their three children. Photo courtesy of Rani Bagai and the South Asian American Digital Archive (SAADA)

Kala Bagai arrived in the U.S. in 1915, a time when Indian women were rare in America. Her husband, Vaishno Das Bagai, was involved in the Ghadar Movement, which sought to challenge British colonial rule from its base in the United States. Despite their financial comfort, the Bagai family faced significant racism in their new setting, exemplified by their rejection when trying to settle in Berkeley.

When they purchased a home in Berkeley, California, their new neighbors locked them out of their house and prevented them from moving in.

“The Bagais, unlike their neighbors, were not White” Dasgupta says.

In 1923, two years after Vaishno Das Bagai had become a U.S. citizen, the Supreme Court’s decision in United States v. Bhagat Singh Thind stripped him of his citizenship, ruling that Indians were not “white” and therefore ineligible for citizenship. Five years later, crushed by the injustice and having had to forego their assets, Vaishno Das took his own life.

Photo of Kala Bagai courtesy of Rani Bagai and the South Asian American Digital Archive (SAADA)

“Being a single mother to three children under these circumstances in a country that could be unwelcoming to people of her racial background was doubtlessly challenging,” Dasgupta says.

After losing her husband, Kala Bagai faced the challenges of single motherhood in San Francisco head-on. Determined not to be defeated, she enrolled in night school to learn English and, with the help of a banker, wisely invested her late husband’s life insurance in stocks, securing her family’s financial future.

Kala’s strength and resilience shaped her path forward. She became a philanthropist and joined the American Wives of India, fostering cultural connections. Her son, Ram, became a key figure in the Indian American community, even supporting Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Civil Rights Movement.

In the 1950s, after the Luce-Celler Act granted U.S. citizenship to Indians, Kala purchased property in Los Angeles. Her home became a welcoming haven for South Asian students from UCLA, where her hospitality and warmth made her beloved in the community.

“She enjoyed hosting, feeding, and taking care of people!” Dasgupta says, highlighting her deep commitment to nurturing those around her.

Kala became a pillar of the South Asian community in Southern California, earning the affectionate title of Jhaiji, or grandmother, and was widely recognized as a founding member of the Indian community there.

Her legacy, rooted in resilience, endures in the lasting impact she made by promoting cultural understanding and inspiring others to uplift and connect with their communities. Her unwavering commitment to these values continues to influence and empower those who follow in her footsteps.

Arko Dasgupta is a Ph.D. candidate in history at Carnegie Mellon University and a doctoral fellow at the Samuel DuBois Cook Center on Social Equity at Duke University. Photo by Stephanie Strasburg/ PublicSource

“This story is worth telling because it enriches the larger story of early immigrants from the Indian subcontinent, particularly in a field that is mainly populated by the stories of men” Dasgupta says.

You can read Dasgupta’s full piece in the Summer 2024 issue of IIC Quarterly.

AI Time Travel: Reimagining Ancient Landscapes

By Sophie Cox

On May 9, 2024

In Anthropology, Art, Artificial Intelligence, History, Visualization

You are looking at a field of fluffy, golden grass dotted with yellow flowers. There are trees in the background and mountains beyond that. Where are you?

Now you’re facing a terracotta sarcophagus. Where are you? When are you?

A new exhibit in the Rubenstein Arts Center uses AI to bring viewers into ancient Roman and Etruscan landscapes spanning 1300 years, from about 1000 BCE to 300 CE. (The field is Roman, the sarcophagus Etruscan.)

An AI-generated image of a summer meadow near Vulci (Viterbo, Italy). Preserved pollen evidence has revealed which plant species dominated these landscapes, and the prompts used to generate images like this one include lists of plant species.

Along one wall, screens show springtime landscapes representing ancient Rome. The written prompts AI used to create each image include detailed information on plant species found in each landscape. One titled “Sedges in shallow water of an ephemeral pond” mentions “sparse trees of alder (Alnus glutinosa), white willow (Salix alba), and white poplar (Populus alba), and few herbaceous plants.” You can view examples of the written prompts on the exhibit’s website, AI Landscapes – Rethinking the Past.

Models of pollen grains from different plant species. Real pollen grains are microscopic, but these magnified representations help show how different their shapes can be.

Historians know what plants were likely to be in these landscapes because of evidence from preserved pollen grains. Different species have distinct pollen shapes, which makes it possible to identify plants even centuries or millennia later.

Part of the exhibit uses AI and a camera to turn interactive prompts into ancient Roman scenes.

An interactive display near the front of the room has a camera pointed at props like building models, pillars, toy horses, and pieces of styrofoam. An AI model reinterprets the camera’s images to create hypothetical scenes from ancient Rome. “See how the columns get reinterpreted as statues?” says Felipe Infante de Castro, who helped program the AI. The AI attempts to add detail and backgrounds to simple props to create realistic scenes. “The only thing that we’re forcing,” he says, “are essentially shapes—which it may or may not respect.” It may reinterpret a hand as a horse’s head, for instance, or a strangely shaped building.

The model is more precise with plants than buildings, says Augustus Wendell, Assistant Professor of the Practice in Art, Art History and Visual Studies and one of the exhibit designers. Latin names for plants are widely used in modern taxonomy, and the AI is likely to have encountered more plants in its training than ancient Roman architecture styles. The AI is a “generic model” asked to “draw on its presuppositions” about Roman buildings, says Felipe. It “wasn’t trained on specifically Roman landscapes…. It just tries its best to interpret it as such.” The results aren’t always completely authentic. “In the background,” Wendell says, “the city is often quite modern Tuscan, not at all ancient Roman.”

It’s interesting to see how the AI responds when you place unfamiliar objects in front of the camera, like your hand. Here, it tried to turn my hand into some sort of building.

“We can use an AI,” Felipe says, “to give us a representation of the past that is compatible with what we believe the past should look like.”

In another part of the exhibit, you can use an AI chatbot to talk to Pliny the Elder, a Roman scholar. Caitlin Childers, who helped design the exhibit, explains that the chatbot was trained on Pliny the Elder’s 37 books on natural history. When I asked Pliny what the chatbot was designed for, he told me, “I do not have the ability to access external articles or specific information beyond the knowledge I possess as Pliny the Elder up to the year 79 AD.”

He can give you information on plants and their uses in ancient Rome, but when I asked Pliny what his favorite plant was, he couldn’t decide. “I find it challenging to select a favorite plant among the vast array of flora that the Earth provides. Each plant contributes uniquely to the balance and beauty of nature.” According to Professor Maurizio Forte, “This AI chatbot can speak in English, French, Italian and also in Latin! So it is possible to formulate questions in Latin and requiring a response in Latin or ask a question in English and expect a reply in Latin as well.”

A virtual reality headset lets you see a three-dimensional model of an Etruscan sarcophagus. The real sarcophagus is encased in glass in the Villa Giulia Museum in Rome, but the virtual reality experience puts it right in front of you. The experimental VR-AI installation also allows viewers to ask questions to the sarcophagus out loud. The sarcophagus has a statue of a man and woman, but historians don’t know whose ashes are buried inside. “It’s not important how they look,” says Forte. “It’s important how they want to be.”

The sarcophagus would have been a “symbolic, aristocratic way to show power,” Forte explains. The design of the sarcophagus represents an intentional choice about how its owners wanted the world to see them after their death. “This is eternity,” Forte says. “This is forever.”

A display of quotes at the “Rethinking the Past” exhibit.

The exhibit, called “Rethinking the Past,” is on display at the Rubenstein Arts Center until May 24.

Blueberrying and More: Expanding the History of Bennett Place

By Sophie Cox

On May 1, 2024

In Anthropology, Field Research, History, Science Communication & Education

Two of the buildings at Bennett Place, a preserved family farm in Durham known largely for its role in a Civil War surrender. Kalei Porter, a Duke Liberal Studies graduate student, recently led an event focusing on the natural history and land use of Bennett Place over time.

Bennett Place, a North Carolina State Historic Site in Durham, is known for its role in a Civil War surrender, but a recent event focusing on the site’s natural history sought to broaden that story. Kalei Porter, a Graduate Liberal Studies student at Duke, led the event, which focused on changing land use at Bennett Place over time.

Jim Barrett, a volunteer tour guide, led a tour of Bennett Place focused on the more well known parts of its history. “The Civil War was a series of five military surrenders,” he explains. The first occurred in Appomattox Court House in Virginia, but while that marked a symbolic end to the war, technically only the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia surrendered there. Another surrender meeting occurred on the land now known as Bennett Place, where Union General Sherman and Confederate General Johnston met at the Bennett family’s small farm to discuss their terms of surrender.

That meeting ultimately led to the preservation of the farm as a historic site, but the history of Bennett Place “should not be an exclusive Civil War story,” Porter says. She has a degree in environmental biology, and her work at Bennett Place combines her interests in ecology and history.

For the past two academic years, Porter has been involved with the North Carolina Lives and Legacies Project, which uses research to tell more nuanced, inclusive stories about land use at sites like Bennett Place. The project, which is based in Duke’s Information Science + Studies, has also received support from Bass Connections in the Vice Provost’s Office for Interdisciplinary Studies and Duke University Libraries. This summer, Kalei will continue her research as a Graduate Project Manager in a History+ team.

James Bennett and his family were small-scale, yeoman farmers. They had about 200 acres, Porter says, “sustaining four to ten people.” They grew most of their own food and sold handmade clothing and crops like watermelons and vegetables at a local market, Barrett says. The site was preserved by civil leaders, including one of Washington Duke’s sons, according to Barrett. The original house was destroyed in a fire in 1921 but was rebuilt in 1962 with material from a similar house, Porter explains. On Barrett’s tour, he mentioned that Sherman brought an illustrator to the surrender meeting, and the pictures from that day still exist, so we know what the house originally looked like. The new house was rebuilt to resemble the old one.

Porter’s event included a display of plants from Duke’s herbarium. The dried plants she chose were collected in North Carolina in different decades, preserving important information about flowering time and native flora in specific sites. “You have a little slice of spring from as far back as the 30’s,” Porter says about the plants she chose.

Two large sheets of blotter paper with dried plants carefully arranged and taped in place upon them. Each herbarium specimen sheet also includes a small envelope for seeds and a one paragraph label and description. — Plants from Duke’s herbarium were on display at the event. Specimens like these can preserve important information like what time of year plants were flowering in different decades.

The exhibit at the event includes other items, too, like a list of who has used this land at different points in history. Before 1782, according to a sign at the event, several Native American tribes inhabited the area, including the Seponi, Cheraw, Catawba, Lumbee, Occaneechi, and Shakori. In 1782, Jacob Baldwin purchased the land, and it changed hands at least twice again before James Bennett bought it in 1846.

There is also a detailed soil map from 1920 on display. Such surveys can make farming more profitable since different crops do best in different soil conditions. Porter says the first geological survey in North Carolina was conducted in the 1850s, making North Carolina only the third state—and the first state in the South—to do soil surveys.

Porter has been working on transcribing Bennett’s ledger papers, which she describes as “a cross between a diary, a planner, and a credit card log.” They provide a record of daily life for a small farmer in North Carolina. Porter says Bennett made a lot of notes about fixing his tools.

Later in the day, Porter led a tour of the site with a focus on natural history. We start on a path lined with fences. Historically, it was a road that went from Raleigh to Hillsborough, and it also “roughly lines up with some of the Native American trading routes that predated the property,” Porter says.

The Unity Monument at Bennett Place. The monument was built in the 1920s, and its original meaning isn’t entirely clear.

We stop at the Unity monument, built in the 1920s soon after the Bennett house burned down. Robert Buerglener, Research Associate, Duke Information Science + Studies, explained to me earlier that the Unity monument may have survived because its meaning is more ambiguous than many Confederate monuments. Porter says the monument incorporated stone from the North, West, and South to represent the theme of unity.

We tour the house and separate kitchen. Both give glimpses into the lives of the Bennett Family. A ladle made from a dried gourd. Jars of persimmon seeds and other items that, according to Barrett, were used as wartime replacements for more typical ingredients. Wood siding on the house that Porter says dates from the 1850s.

It’s not just the buildings that reveal the story of this land. Porter points out trees, shrubs, and fences as well.

Before the Civil War, she says, livestock here roamed free. Buildings and gardens would have been fenced to keep the livestock out. After the war, however, fencing became more expensive, and people started creating fences around the livestock instead and building cheaper, less sturdy fences.

As we walk toward a nature trail at the back of the property, Porter draws our attention to the pine trees. Both loblolly and shortleaf pines grow here. Historically, shortleaf would have been more common in this area, but places that have been recently managed for timber tend to have loblolly. Most of these pines are still relatively young; they were not here when the Bennetts lived on this land.

In the forest, many of the low-growing plants we pass are species of blueberry. Porter has searched through digitized North Carolina newspapers for records of the word “blueberry.” It was first mentioned in the 1880s as a verb, blueberrying (women going out to pick wild blueberries) but wasn’t grown commercially in this area until the 1930s.

Porter ends her tour by asking us to look at the sky. Even the sky could have changed in the centuries since the Bennetts farmed this land. Today it’s clear and blue, but modern pollution could make it less blue than it used to be, Porter says, and some days we might see airplane contrails, which the Bennetts would never have seen back then. “Sometimes the sky is even asynchronous with time,” Porter says.

Post by Sophie Cox, Class of 2025

What Comes Next for the Law of the Sea Treaty?

By Gabrielle Douglas

On April 15, 2024

In History, Law, Lecture, Oceans, Policy

More than 40 years since its signing, the United States still has not ratified an international agreement known as the “constitution of the oceans.” In a webinar held April 2, two of the world’s leading ocean diplomacy scholars met to discuss its history, challenges, and the U.S.’s potential role in the future.

The 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea was truly revolutionary for its time. Unraveling against the backdrop of decades of conflict pertaining to maritime affairs, the significance of this conference and its attempts at negotiating a comprehensive legal framework cannot be understated. Key figures in this development include the members of the United Nations, coastal and landlocked states, the scientific community, environmental community, and developing nations. Yet, with the conclusion of this unifying conference, a singular question remained: What comes next?

This question is what David Balton, the executive director of the U.S. Artic Steering Committee, and David Freestone, a Professor at George Washington University and the Executive Secretary of the Sargasso Sea Commission, aimed to address in a webinar titled, “The UN Convention on the Law of the Sea at 40.” In this discussion a range of topics were discussed but the primary focus was providing viewers with a comprehensive understanding of the events of this convention and the way this history plays out in modern times.

*Picture of Ambassador David Balton (Obtained from the Wilson Center)*

The 1982 convention was one of multiple attempts at setting parameters and guidelines for maritime control. In 1958, the council met for the first time to discuss growing concerns regarding the need for a comprehensive legal framework regarding ocean governance. In this they brought multiple representatives worldwide to discuss the breadth of territorial waters, the rights of coastal states, freedom of navigation, and the exploitation of marine resources. This conversation laid the groundwork for future discussions. However, it was largely ineffective at generating a treaty as they were unable to reach a consensus on the breadth of territorial waters. This first conference is referred to as UNCLOS I.

Following 1958, in 1960 the members of the council and associated parties convened once again to discuss the issues brought forth by UNCLOS I. The purpose of this conference was to further discuss issues pertaining to the Law of the Sea and build a framework to begin ratification of a binding treaty to ensure that conflict regarding the sea diminishes greatly. This discussion was set in the context of the Cold War. This new setting complicated discussions as talks regarding the implementation of nuclear weapons under the deep seabed further elicited great debate and tensions. While the aim of this meeting was of course to reach a general agreement on these subjects, major differences between states and other parties prohibited UNCLOS II from producing said treaty.

UNCLOS III served as the breadwinner of this development, yet this is not to say that results were immediate. Negotiations for UNCLOS III were the longest of the three as they spanned from 1973 to 1982. UNCLOS II was particularly special due to its ability to produce revolutionary concepts such as archipelagic status and the establishment of the exclusive economic zone (EEZ), granting coastal states exclusive rights over fishing and economic resources within 200 miles of their shores. In addition, this led to the development of the International Seabed Authority and the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea. Despite the limitations and unfinished agenda that preceded this, the treaty was officially ratified in 1994 at Montego Bay. The convention initially received 157 signatories and currently holds participation from 169 parties. Absent from this group are the United States, Turkey, and Venezuela. The convention was designed to work as a package deal and required nations to fully commit to the agreement or abstain entirely. For this reason, the United States retains a nonparty, observer status despite to their adherence to the rules and guidelines of the treaty.

After this explanation, Balton and Freestone addressed the big question: What comes next? As of right now, the United States is still not a signatory of this treaty. However, this is not to say that they are in violation of this treaty either. The United States participates in discussions and negotiations related to UNCLOS issues, both within the United Nations and through bilateral and multilateral engagements. In addition, the Navy still upholds international law in dealings concerning navigational rights. The one factor many claims prohibits the United States from signing is the possibility of their sovereignty being challenged by certain provisions within the treaty. In spite of this, many continue to push to change this reality, advocating for the United States to ratify this agreement.

*Picture of Professor David Freestone (Obtained from Flavia at World Maritime University)*

The 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea remains a pivotal moment in the history of international maritime governance. This Convention led to many insightful and necessary developments which will continue to set precedent for generations to come. While imperfect, the efforts put forth by many nations and third parties to ensure that it remains consistent with modern day times is very telling of the hopeful development of this treaty. Furthermore, while the future of U.S. involvement in the treaty is uncertain, the frameworks established by the three UNCLOS’ provide a solid foundation for addressing contemporary challenges and furthering international cooperation.

Post by Gabrielle Douglas, Class of 2027

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Rethinking the Mutual Relationship Between Science and Justice