Dr. Manon S. Parry is Professor of Medical and Nursing History at the Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam (VU), and Associate Professor of American Studies and Public History at the University of Amsterdam (UvA). In September 2025, Bianca Angelien Claveria, a PhD candidate from the Institute for History, Leiden University, and proud Shells and Pebbles editor, interviewed Professor Parry about her current book project “Medical Museums in Flux: Curiosity, Risk, and Relevance (Routledge Research in Museum Studies, forthcoming 2026)”, her ongoing research work on medical museums, and her reflections on how we engage with the collections or exhibitions in these museums. This interview was edited for Shells and Pebbles.
Photo of Dr. Manon S. Parry, by ComeniusNetwork/Milette Raats.
Bianca Angelien Claveria (BC): Your current book project has a really interesting focus on “human curiosities.” This made me reflect on the definitions or meanings we associate with the word “curiosities”. But considering that the subject of your book is medical museums, the word “contentious” also lingered in my mind. What exactly do you mean by “human curiosities”? What makes something a “curiosity”? Or something “contentious”?
Manon Parry (MP): I’m really glad you asked me this question. The way I intend to refer to “curiosities” in the book is different to how objects have been seen as curiosities, or displayed in “cabinets of curiosities” in medical museums. I am reflecting on the people who visit these collections, and how curious they are about what happens inside their own bodies and the bodies of others, as well as their interest in the changing ideas about human anatomy and pathology over time. I believe that it is entirely human to be curious about historical medical collections, including anatomical models and human remains. By shifting away from framing the material object as “curious” to focus instead on the museum visitor, I hope we can avoid making judgements about audiences’ interest and instead explore how we can make the most of this curiosity.
Yet it is also important to recognize differences in opinions and reactions to how these museums and exhibitions are curated. Any object can spark strong reactions, and we need to recognize that there are a range of responses and reasons for them. When I use the word “object” in this context, I do not mean to be dismissive of people’s humanity—especially when we’re talking about human remains in medical museums—but there are many other kinds of objects that are also powerful. When developing an exhibition, museum curators (including those who do not work in medical museums) conduct risk assessments of objects that they think might be controversial or provocative, for various reasons (such as the object’s colonial past, religious issues, political concerns, etc.). Curators plan or prepare for possible reactions and consider ways of addressing them, in the design of the exhibition, for example, or in the narrative presented. I explore some of these issues in my book, and also reflect on trends in the histories and materials presented.
When I worked at the National Library of Medicine, (part of the US National Institutes of Health), I curated an exhibition on global health for the 60th anniversary of the founding of the World Health Organization. Among many other topics the exhibition team thought might be controversial in the exhibition, we included Physicians for Human Rights, presenting their work on the International Campaign to Ban Landmines and their conceptualization of war as a public health problem. This was a potentially controversial topic, especially as we were working in a government institution while also being critical of the government’s response, because the United States never signed the Mine Ban Treaty. However, the exhibition topic that generated the most negative responses was a section on Chinese barefoot doctors, as some visitors objected to a positive focus on China and the training of non-specialists to provide medical care. This was an important lesson for me about not making assumptions about which topics might be off-limits or potentially sensitive, and a demonstration of the diversity of opinions among audiences.
Yet when it comes to thinking about museums and how their objects are curated, some of the most influential voices in public debate today assume that everyone agrees on what we consider “contentious” and what is not. But this is not the case, as my research with museum staff reveals—although it is becoming increasingly risky to state other views in professional settings or in the media. Moreover, there’s also something to be said for objects that are currently so hotly debated: this shows you what power they have. So the question remains, what do we do with that?
Manon S. Parry speaking at the opening of the academic year, University of Amsterdam, 2024, by Bob Bronshoff.
BC: I recall an ongoing argument you make in your research, about the need for people to face the “risky histories” that surround medical museums and their collections.1 This also made me reflect on how open or visible these museums are, and if they do encourage conversations or engagements. What are your thoughts about public access to medical museums?
MP: There is a huge variety of medical museums, and it’s quite challenging to talk about them in general. There are museums with histories connected to universities or medical schools, with collections that were previously restricted only to medical students or researchers, which have since become more open to the public. There are museums that were always intended to be open to all. And there are many museums that incorporate collections from different places, including material previously used only for teaching or research. Some have collections entirely made up of human remains, and others have none at all. There are ongoing debates about whether teaching and research collections are suitable for everybody. For example, one could ask: “What is the point of showing this to people who are not studying medicine?”
The pressure today to restrict access to some collections is part of a futile attempt to set a universal standard for the “right reasons” for making collections public or the “right behavior” for people to follow while in these museums. The controversies over collections stop us from having a more thoughtful and considered discussion on their histories and future, as well as the wide variety of reasons they might be publicly shown. Some scholars are very dismissive, for example, of any argument defending the display of human remains. I am writing a chapter for another book on biobanks and medical “waste” found in hospitals and university collections, and several contributors have experienced censorship and backlash from other academics and museum professionals.
The debate is becoming very polarized, with the implication that there are those who care about human rights and ethics, and those who do not, rather than that there are different views on what constitutes responsible use. It is as if there’s only one way of treating medical museums. I think this is because their collections have been interpreted in recent years as if they are equivalent to the collections of ethnographic museums, without enough recognition of the broader range and variety of materials that can be found in such collections. Many do include human remains derived from colonial violence and exploitation, yet these sit alongside other material from local hospitals or medical schools, including some that was willingly donated.
I would like to think that all of the views aired (as different as they are) come from a good place. We all want to attend to the histories that are embedded in these collections, and to do our best for the audiences that encounter them. But we have differing opinions on how to go about it, and I think that’s the crux of the matter. Without providing sufficient context to explain these objects (e.g. where they came from, how they were used, what can we learn from them, etc.), the museum visitors would be left to wonder for themselves, or may not consider this history at all.
The rush to resolve these crises has caused anxieties about allowing access to these collections and encouraged moves to restrict them from public view. Hiding collections may also put them in danger, as has happened in the past. Yet without the public engaging with these museums, fragile collections will be ignored and may go into decline.
I think the best approach is to see these collections as part of our own history. Everybody’s history. It is not just the histories of medical schools or medical professionals, because all of us, as patients, participate in the history of medicine too. We have been there helping to produce medical knowledge, as our bodies have been used for research or education. So in that way, we should also be allowed to enter these museums and see the collections.
BC: Shifting our perspective to patients and how we as historians write their stories, what are your thoughts on anonymization? Or how do we deal with sensitive or intimate histories or records?
MP: Those are also very hot topics at the moment that are becoming again, really contentious. There are some who argue that the act of anonymizing further intensifies the objectification of the medical gaze, making it harder to see a person rather than merely a medical “case”. But I think there is not just one answer to this, as it will really depend on the specific material – a graphic image or a demeaning description, for example, or intimate aspects of care. An ethical approach could be to include in the decision those who have lived experience of the illness, disability, or treatment involved, or the relatives of people depicted. Being able to discuss the issues involved and to make decisions with careful attention to the reasons for certain choices is important. As there are different opinions on the best ways to handle these issues, museums can expect criticism. Then you can listen to these complaints and explain your decisions. My experience as an exhibition curator has made me realize that, since we are curating for a public audience, there will always be criticism or objections. Scholars and museum policymakers need to feel a bit more comfortable with that reality and not aim for universal agreement. As long as you are not willfully acting in offensive ways, and you are thoughtful and careful with your actions, you can accept that somebody might disagree with you. Hear what they have to say, and talk to them about it. Maybe you can both learn from that experience.
BC: In your research, you have also looked into how medical museums portray disabilities. How should we engage with these displays of the “normal” or “abnormal”? Is there a need for us, as historians, to nuance them further and be more aware of how we use them, given that we now see medical museums in a different light?
MP: Disability studies scholars challenge notions of “normal” or “abnormal,” and how physicians in the past defined a norm and then a deviation from it. When referring to museum displays related to disability we can focus instead on “bodily difference” or “unusual anatomies.” Historians of medicine need to be aware that certain terms could be very hurtful, and to recognize that even well-intentioned “care” may have caused pain, injury, and trauma. Disability activists and scholars have critiqued medical ableism, and argue that the real job of medicine is not to fix disabled people, but to alleviate pain or discomfort, and help people to live their best quality of life. We are invited to be critical, for example, of prosthetic devices, as historically, more emphasis has often been placed on how to make someone look like they do not have a disability, rather than considering what would be most functional and comfortable for them.
BC: On the side of physicians or members of the medical community, what do you think their reactions are to how their histories are being told through these objects? Or their thoughts on how these objects are being displayed or even used in the present?
MP: You cannot really generalize what all physicians might think, but there are diverging views on whether we still need the materials in medical museums for medical research or education. There are researchers who are still doing DNA research on human remains collections, and teachers who use objects from those collections to give their students a more impactful experience (in contrast to using virtual reality).
Another issue I explore in the book is how medical museums shape and respond to the image of the profession today. An example is the curation of the history of infectious disease. I reflect on the tendency to present a traditional and simplified narrative of medical progress, whereas approaches to other topics have shifted dramatically in recent years. The most innovative museums no longer focus only on the practitioner’s perspective, for example, but also include patient experiences. The COVID-19 pandemic reasserted traditional narratives in museums though – as in the media – following government leaders and public health professionals who celebrated vaccines as the sole solution. This has damaging consequences for public health, as research now suggests that “overpromising” on Covid vaccines has contributed to declining faith in scientific expertise.2
BC: Do you have any particular museum or exhibition that really made an impression on you?
MP: One of my favorite exhibitions is “The Body Collected” at the Medical Museion in Copenhagen in Denmark, which was curated by Karin Tybjerg.3 This is almost ten years old now, and has a huge amount of human remains on display. What I particularly like is how the displays were organized in a really clever and instructive way. As you walk through the galleries, you easily learn how medical research and knowledge-making have shifted over time. So for example, the exhibition begins with the dissection of full bodies, but as you progress through the displays, you move to ever smaller elements of bodily matter, all the way through to genetic analysis. The exhibition text also provides context on how the human material was gathered and studied. Overall the narrative presents the production of knowledge as a joint endeavour shared between the people whose bodies were used and the people who did research upon them.
Notes
- M. Parry. “The valuable role of risky histories: exhibiting disability, race and reproduction in medical museums.” Science Museum Group Journal 14 (2021):1-23. ↩︎
- Apoorva Mandavilli, “Science Amid Chaos: What Worked During the Pandemic? What Failed?,” The New York Times, March 17, 2025, https://www.nytimes.com/2025/03/14/health/covid-pandemic-public-health.html. ↩︎
- Read more about “The Body Collected” exhibit: K. Tybjerg, ed. The Body Collected: The raw materials of medical science from cadaver to DNA. 1st edition. København: Københavns Universitet, 2016. ↩︎
Reading Suggestions
Ankele, Monika and Benoît Majerus, eds. Material Cultures of Psychiatry. Columbia University Press, 2020.
Biers, Trish, and Katie Stringer Clary, eds. The Routledge Handbook of Museums, Heritage, and Death, 1st edition.Routledge, 2024.
Björklund, Elisabet, and Solveig Jülich, eds. Rethinking the Public Fetus: Historical Perspectives on the Visual Culture of Pregnancy. Boydell & Brewer, and the University of Rochester Press, 2024.
Kador, Thomas, and Helen Chatterjee. Object-Based Learning and Well-Being: Exploring Material Connections. Routledge, 2021.
Sandell, Richard, Jocelyn Dodd, and Rosemarie Garland-Thomson, eds. Re-Presenting Disability: Activism and Agency in the Museum, 1st edition. Routledge, 2010.
Edited by Elian Schure and Luca Forgiarini.