Sex 100 philippin
Anti-colonialists connected it to broader fears of bodily and political “corruption.” For all of them, adoption of regulation signaled a tragic collapse of national exceptionalism, as the United States adopted what they considered immoral, “European” methods for containing venereal disease. Among these modifications, the Army formalized and universalized the inspection of its soldiers in the Philippines after May 1901; in subsequent years, this colonial innovation became national army policy. This research has explored the social landscapes of sexual labor near military installations, the state-to-state agreements made to facilitate commercialized sex, the experiences of sex workers, and the central role that controversies over sex have played in the politics of military basing.
Thanks to the work of feminist scholars and activists, the sexual politics of military empire has emerged as one of the principal subjects of a critical scholarship on the U. This essay contributes to these investigations in a number of ways.
One surgeon complained that “consorting with native women can not be controlled when the troops are stationed in scattered town quarters.” Given that Filipinos were in many cases believed to be inherently diseased, miscegenation meant contagion; whether or not specific Filipino women were believed to be infected, miscegenation was often imagined as both a sign and trigger of physical and moral “degeneration” among white American soldiers. officials traveled a path of least resistance: rather than importing policies either from the metropolitan United States or neighboring colonies, they continued local practices carried out first by the Spanish and, briefly, by the revolutionary government under Emilio Aguinaldo that had succeeded it. troops occupied Manila, for example, Aguinaldo and Leandro Ibarra, the Revolutionary Government’s Secretary of the Interior, had signed a decree authorizing the continuation of Spain’s regulatory program “to prevent the contraction of syphilitic and venereal diseases.” The U. inspection regime drew on the basic outlines of the existing Spanish program, including its most innovative feature, its funding by compulsory fees and penalties paid by women themselves. Emphasizing the institution’s local origins, Hughes claimed that the decision was “entirely my own,” but taken in consultation with Board of Health director Frank Bourns and the Board’s other “medical gentlemen.” It employed a physician who made daily visits, a male orderly, two female nurses, two servants and a cook.
For some, contracting venereal disease and sex with “native women” constituted distinct but related forms of “treason.” When commanders suggested that venereal disease was primarily a problem of troop strength, and that soldiers’ immorality and recklessness was its cause, they made the act of contraction a sort of bodily treason, a partial denial of one’s physical constitution to the state. A Spanish regulatory system had been put into effect in Manila in the late-1880s under a liberal governor, apparently based on Madrid regulations; in 1897, a Public Hygiene section of the Department of Health enforced the mandatory registration of brothels and the prostitutes that lived and worked in them and the reportage of changes in residence, along with compulsory medical inspection and incarceration in hospitals and treatment in the case of illness. The Board had also, according to Bourns, “taken possession” of a former vaccination center, 24 Calle de Iris, and turned it into an “office of inspection” where certificates were issued to those women found free of disease.
Given the tumultuous shifts in Manila’s governance in mid-1898, however, what is striking is the apparent continuity in inspection practices between Spanish, Philippine and U. If not, the house in question was to be “closed until every inmate has been properly examined.” The system’s first principle was the prostitute as the perpetual and exclusive source of contagion. Their first report, delivered in December, contained accounts of ongoing U. efforts against beriberi, dysentery, typhoid fever, and malaria, “the principal diseases from which the Americans suffered”; but even their secondary list, “[t]uberculosis, diphtheria, and scarlet fever,” did not include venereal disease.
First, it gives them a pre-history: while most of this literature has focused on the Cold War, I demonstrate that the U. military’s efforts to formally secure its male soldiers sexual access to women while protecting its forces from venereal disease—what I’ll call, with apologies to Eisenhower, the military-sexual complex—date back to the dawn of the 20 century; so, too, do controversies about these efforts.
While pushing back this timeline, I also speak to the historiography of post-1898 U. colonialism, showing that the regulation of vice is a significant and under-recognized theme among anti-colonialists and other reformers in the early 20 Along the way, my research uncovers one instance of what turn-of-the-century observers called “reflex action”: a case in which projects, policies or institutions inaugurated in colonial settings were brought back and integrated into metropolitan ones.
stocks, and closed down all liquor dealers and saloons in early 1900. Army undertook the broadest program for the venereal inspection of sex workers conducted by the U. Activists made venereal inspection into a problem in diverse ways, each attempting to employ it to advance its agenda.
Facing “an almost wholly immoral woman community,” Sweet had given “these women and their keepers” a “course of regulation, restriction and control heretofore unknown in their lifetime.” What he called “noted women” were “watched, restrained and examined.” Regarding brothels, he at once “instituted a system of strict surveillance, exacting restriction, inspections and control and punishments and medical examinations by the [army] Surgeons.” While a “Detention Camp” was established for diseased soldiers, Sweet had incarcerated “all women in Jolo known to be diseased” in a special hospital wing and “deported” those found infected with “so-called Asiatic diseases.” Together these policies constituted a “system of attrition” that “tended to reduce the number in various ways.” Sweet had first “rid the towns of the Chinese then the miscellaneous nationalities,” then Moro women “in the most quiet way conceivable,” and “from time to time the more objectionable Japanese women.” He then “gradually drove out the Visaya [sic] and Filipino women.” Proceeding gradually towards what he called “eventual elimination,” Sweet’s program of fees, inspections, incarcerations and deportations, directed against the “commoner women” had by his own measure succeeded by June 1900, as “only some twenty odd women remained.” Had he remained in command a few months longer, 1901 would have seen the “social evil” there “eradicated.” There was some irony in the fact that the investigation into his conduct had been prompted by the collective anger of reformers who felt that, in allowing about thirty Japanese prostitutes to remain in Jolo, his repression of vice had not gone far enough. For “social purity” reformers, regulation “licensed” vice in several senses, threatening soldiers’ moral and physical health and that of the society to which they would return.