scholarly journals One Hundred Years of Insulin

2021 ◽  
Vol 43 (4) ◽  
pp. 37-37

Abstract The 1923 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine was awarded jointly to Canadian physician Frederick Grant Banting (1891-1941) and Scottish biochemist and physiologist John James Macleod (1876-1935) “for the discovery of insulin”. It was a remarkable finding since diabetes mellitus was an untreatable and often lethal disease until then. Much has been written about Banting and Macleod’s breakthrough research conducted at the University of Toronto starting in November 1920, including the key roles played by their trustworthy assistants, medical student Charles Best and biochemist James Collip. On the other hand, much less has been written about the pioneering research of Romanian physiologist Nicolae Paulescu (1869-1931), whose work on the metabolic effects of canine pancreatic extracts predates that of Banting and Macleod but was interrupted by World War I. Should Best, Collip, or Paulescu have also shared the Nobel Prize?

2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
William Rostène ◽  
Pierre De Meyts

Abstract Diabetes has been known since antiquity. We present here a historical perspective on the concepts and ideas regarding the physiopathology of the disease, on the progressive focus on the pancreas, in particular on the islets discovered by Langerhans in 1869, leading to the iconic experiment of Minkowski and von Mering in 1889 showing that pancreatectomy in a dog induced polyuria and diabetes mellitus. Subsequently, multiple investigators searched for the active substance of the pancreas and some managed to produce extracts that lowered blood glucose and decreased polyuria in pancreatectomized dogs, but were too toxic to be administered to patients. The breakthrough came 100 years ago when the team of Frederick Banting, Charles Best and James Collip working in the Department of Physiology headed by John Macleod at the University of Toronto managed to obtain pancreatic extracts that could be used to treat patients and rescue them from the edge of death by starvation, the only treatment then available. This achievement was quickly recognized by the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine to Banting and Macleod in 1923. At 32, Banting remains the youngest awardee of this Prize. Here we discuss the work that led to the discovery and its main breakthroughs, the human characters involved in an increasingly dysfunctional relationship, the controversies that followed the Nobel Prize, and the debate as to who actually “discovered” insulin. We also discuss the early commercial development and progress in insulin crystallization in the decade or so following the Nobel Prize.


2006 ◽  
Vol 8 (1) ◽  
pp. 147-163 ◽  
Author(s):  
Catherine Gidney

Abstract Historians have documented the interlocking nature of student culture and religious life in nineteenth-century higher education; in contrast, after World War I religion has generally been ignored, or portrayed as disappearing from the academy and broader life. An investigation of the Student Christian Movement, however, suggests that by combining liberal theology with left-wing politics it became an influential religious force on campus well into the twentieth century. Reflecting a fairly homogeneous student population, supported by faculty and the administration, and articulating the temper of the times, the SCM served as the public voice of religion on campus. Only in the 1950s, as new social phenomena emerged, such as divisions among Protestants, the rise of agnosticism, and the creation of secular political organisations, did the SCM begin to lose its cultural authority on campus.


Author(s):  
Rasmus Navntoft

The German author and Nobel Prize winner Thomas Mann (1875-1955) perceived World War I as a moral battle against the civilization project rooted in the European enlightenment. Like many other German intellectuals of that time, Mann stresses an opposition between the concept of culture and that of civilization – this conflict is seen as inherent in the European soul – and defends Germany’s right to remain a culture that does not evolve into a civilization. The concept of culture can contain irrational features such as mystical, bloody and terrifying teachings, whereas civilization is characterized by reason, enlightenment, skepticism and hostility towards passion and emotion. In his major work The Magic Mountain (1924) however, Mann tries to overcome this opposition and displays, through the metaphors of the text, that a new humanism is dependent upon a mystical and completely illogical balance between culture and civilization. The main character of the novel does not succeed in finding this balance. But, nonetheless, Mann continues to see the possibilities of a new humanism through this perspective in order to point out a humanistic hope in the shadesof two European world wars.


2021 ◽  
Vol 51 (3-4) ◽  
pp. 262-272
Author(s):  
Tore Rem

In 1920, the Norwegian novelist Knut Hamsun won the Nobel Prize for literature for his novel Markens grøde ( Growth of the Soil) (1917). This article explores some of the key contexts for this work, highlighting the author’s own ambitions, the reasons why he sided with Germany during the war, and his generally völkisch perspectives on the Germanic and Nordic. It furthermore analyses the early reception of this World War I novel, and how it was first subjected to a number of positive readings and seen as an example of idealism, before being appropriated by Nazism.


Author(s):  
Jonathan Renshon

This chapter examines whether status concerns lead decision makers to value status more highly by looking at three separate sets of decisions: Russia's decision to aggressively back Serbia in the 1914 July Crisis, Britain's decision to collude with Israel and France in launching the 1956 Suez Crisis, and Gamal Abdel Nasser's 1962 decision to intervene in the Yemen Civil War (and continue to escalate through the rest of the decade). These cases broadly substantiate the patterns found in the Weltpolitik case—decision makers tend to value status more highly due to status concerns—while highlighting the plausibility of several new mechanisms. They also show that status concerns are not confined to European countries, great powers or states in the pre-World War I era. Finally, they reveal the other side of status concerns: state behavior designed to salvage or defend status rather than increase it.


Author(s):  
Mischa Honeck

This chapter explores how the BSA globalized the masculine myth of the frontier to combat the rise of a largely peer-regulated, frivolous, and sexualized youth culture in the 1920s. As the propagated “return to normalcy” after World War I had not led to a reinstatement of prewar gender norms but was contradicted by working and voting women as well as men struggling to find proper peacetime masculinities, Scout leaders rediscovered the foreign as a field to discipline youth and mold men. They arranged two spectacular expeditions, one to Africa and the other to Antarctica, which sent four Eagle Scouts abroad in the hope that their age-appropriate and consumer-friendly enactments of a young frontier masculinity would stabilize dominant hierarchies of age and gender. While the official narratives of these expeditions offered reassurance to white elites, the boys’ appropriations of manhood and empire were often idiosyncratic and inconclusive, pointing to the incongruities between adult projection and youthful experience.


2021 ◽  
pp. 172-188
Author(s):  
Gábor Gergely

“Misfitting in America” offers an analysis of The Man Who Laughs that suggests the film’s importance in four key areas: (1) as a transitional piece between silent cinema and the talkies, (2) as the last instalment of the Universal super productions, (3) as a thematic precursor to Universal’s famous horror cycle, and (4) as one of the most complete Hollywood attempts to adopt and co-opt German filmmaking practices and personnel. Moreover, this chapter focuses on the star of The Man Who Laughs, Conrad Veidt, as representative of an exilic body. Analysing Veidt’s physicality, performance, makeup, and costuming as Gwynplaine, this contribution looks at the corporeal inscription of the character’s permanent disfiguration, which underpins Gwynplaine’s understanding of himself and his peripheral position in society. With its intrinsic linking of disfigurement and dislocation in an endless cycle where one leads seamlessly into the other, the film becomes a way to understand how Hollywood studios situated their European émigré stars in the years following World War I.


Author(s):  
Daniel Bangert

Rudolf Kolisch was an Austrian-born violinist, teacher, and conductor. As leader of the Kolisch Quartet he premiered many important chamber works by the Second Viennese School and other modernist composers of the first half of the twentieth century. He later became leader of the Pro Arte Quartet and taught at the University of Wisconsin in Madison and at the New England Conservatory in Boston. Kolisch was born in Klamm am Semmering, Austria on 20 July 1896. His father Rudolf was a doctor and his mother Henriette a pianist. Soon after starting violin lessons, an injury to his left hand led him to hold the violin in his right hand and bow left-handed. He attended the Vienna Music Academy and the University of Vienna, but his postgraduate studies were interrupted by three years of service in the Austrian army during World War I. His teachers included the Czech violinist Otakar Ševčík, the composer Franz Schrecker, and the musicologist Guido Adler.


John W. Magladery was born in New Liskeard, Ontario on October 11, 1911. He graduated from Upper Canada College in 1929 and the University of Toronto Medical School in 1935. As a Rhodes scholar, he received the degree of D. Phil, in Neurophysiology from Oxford University in 1937. During World War II, he was a major in the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps. Post-graduate studies were undertaken at the University of Toronto and the National Hospital, Queen Square.


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