For many of us who studied and came of age in the last two decades of the twentieth century, there was nothing more prosaic, lacking in romance, and less worthy of our scientific curiosity than petroleum. The basic questions about its composition and origin had been answered, and it was no longer one of Nature’s secrets luring us to discovery, but rather the dull stuff of industry and business, money and technology. Some of us even imagined, naively, that we would witness the end of the age of fossil fuels: they were the bane of modern man, the source of pollution, environmental disaster, and climate change that threatened to disrupt ecosystems and civilizations around the entire globe. Finding new reserves, we reasoned, would only forestall the inevitable, or exacerbate the havoc. But when Jürgen joined Germany’s government-funded Institute of Petroleum and Organic Geochemistry in 1975, there was still a sense of mission in finding new reserves. The energy crisis of the early 1970s had created a heightened awareness of the value of fossil fuels and the need for conservation, but the accepted wisdom remained that oil was the key to the future and well-being of civilization. And the chemistry, it seems, was anything but banal—it was, in fact, leading not just to a better success rate in finding new reserves of oil, but also to a new understanding of life that no one had foreseen. Certainly for Geoff and the generations of organic chemists that came before him, the oils that occasionally seeped out of a crack in a rock, or came spouting out of the earth if one drilled a hole in the right place, were as intriguing as the life some said they came from. Liquid from a solid, organic from mineral, black or brown or dark red, it was as if blood were oozing from stone, an enigma that inspired inquiry from scientists long before it found its place among man’s most coveted commodities.
When Unpaid Workers Need a Legal Status: Family Workers and Reforms to Labour Rights in Twentieth-Century France
