I am an assistant professor of history at Hillyer College, University of Hartford. I study the role of exploration in American culture. My book, The Coldest Crucible: Arctic Exploration and American Culture (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), takes up one aspect of this story, during the heyday of Arctic exploration in the United States, from 1850 to 1910.

My other projects include: serving as guest-curator for an exhibition on Arctic exploration at the Portland Museum of Art (Maine) which will open in Spring 2009, serving as advisory editor to the History of Science journal Isis, and sitting on the executive steering committee of the Maury Workshop for the History of Oceanography.

For other examples of my work see:

A recent lecture at the University of Delaware about Arctic exploration (cue to 15:30)

A public radio interview at WVXU about explorer Charles Hall.

An editorial about parallels between Arctic exploration and NASA’s current policies at the History News Network.

An article about the theory of the open polar sea in Extremes: Oceanography’s Adventures at the Poles.

About the Site

This site is about exploration and its place within the cultural imagination. Exploration is a popular subject, both inside and outside the academy. Journalists, historians, geographers, and anthropologists have already walked down this trail. Why blaze it again? Because most of us (including myself) confine ourselves to the boundaries of our own tribes, reading the same books, writing in the same exclusionary language. I hope this space will be more ecumenical: a place to take off the pith helmets, argue, and share ideas. As a historian of exploration, I tend to be more of a critic than a cheerleader so be warned. That said, all are welcome.

About the Name

In 1907, Arctic explorer Robert Peary declared that “man and the Eskimo dog are the only two mechanisms capable of meeting all the varying contingencies of Arctic work.” Men were tricky mechanisms to control. Dogs, on the other hand, were powerful and reliable. And, of course, edible. When they broke down, they were fed to healthier dogs. And when these healthy dogs failed, or when provisions ran low, they were fed to the men. Sometimes this happened as a last resort. More often than not, however, it was a part of the plan, a calculation of food, weight, and distance.

Roald Amundsen: explorer, sailor, dog-eater

Logical enough, but it doesn’t quite sit right. Exploration was difficult, even deadly, work. Explorers had to make decisions with a rational, and at times ruthless, efficiency. This did not always jibe with their public personae however; the public expected their heroes to embody the noblest traits of the nation, a code of honor that did not include being premeditated canine-i-vores.

As exploration controversies go, this was a minor one. But it illustrates something that was more broadly true: explorers had to hew closely to complicated, even contradictory, codes of behavior. They were fiercely patriotic yet often deeply egocentric, desperate to escape civilization yet obsessed with their public images back home, anxious to go-it-alone even when expeditions required the efforts of so many. For me, the controversies of exploration (rather than the accomplishments) are the prize because they are, ultimately, the most revealing about society, culture, and human nature. And they make good stories too.

Contact Michael Robinson