Educating the Empire: American Teachers and Contested Colonization in the Philippines 1108473121, 9781108473125

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Educating the Empire

This book examines how education contributed to the creation of US empire in the Philippines by focusing on American teachers and the Filipinos with whom they lived and worked. While education was located at the heart of the imperial project, used to justify empire, the implementation of schooling in the islands deviated from the expectations of the colonial state. American teachers at times upheld, adapted, circumvented, or entirely disregarded colonial policy. Despite the language of white masculinity that imbued imperial discourse, the appointment of white women and black men as teachers allowed them to claim roles and identities that transformed understandings of gender and race. Filipinos also used the American educational system to articulate their own understandings of empire. In this context, schools were a microcosm for the colonial state, with contestations over education often standing in for the colonial relationship itself.  - is Assistant Professor of History at the University of Alabama.

Cambridge Studies in US Foreign Relations Edited by Paul Thomas Chamberlin, Columbia University Lien-Hang T. Nguyen, Columbia University This series showcases cutting-edge scholarship in US foreign relations that employs dynamic new methodological approaches and archives from the colonial era to the present. The series will be guided by the ethos of transnationalism, focusing on the history of American foreign relations in a global context rather than privileging the US as the dominant actor on the world stage. Also in the Series Aurélie Basha i Novosejt, “I Made Mistakes”: Robert McNamara’s Vietnam War Policy, 1960–1964 Greg Whitesides, Science and American Foreign Relations since World War II Jasper M. Trautsch, The Genesis of America: US Foreign Policy and the Formation of National Identity, 1793–1815 Hideaki Kami, Diplomacy Meets Migration: US Relations with Cuba during the Cold War Shaul Mitelpunkt, Israel in the American Mind: The Cultural Politics of US-Israeli Relations, 1958–1988 Pierre Asselin, Vietnam’s American War: A History Elisabeth Leake, The Defiant Border: The Afghan-Pakistan Borderlands in the Era of Decolonization, 1936–1965 Tuong Vu, Vietnam’s Communist Revolution: The Power and Limits of Ideology Michael E. Neagle, America’s Forgotten Colony: Cuba’s Isle of Pines Lloyd E. Ambrosius, Woodrow Wilson and American Internationalism Geoffrey C. Stewart, Vietnam’s Lost Revolution: Ngô Đình Diệm’s Failure to Build an Independent Nation, 1955–1963 Renata Keller, Mexico’s Cold War: Cuba, the United States, and the Legacy of the Mexican Revolution

Educating the Empire American Teachers and Contested Colonization in the Philippines

SARAH STEINBOCK-PRATT University of Alabama

University Printing House, Cambridge  , United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York,  10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne,  3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 79 Anson Road, #06–04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108473125 : 10.1017/9781108666961 © Sarah Steinbock-Pratt 2019 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2019 Printed in the United Kingdom by TJ International Ltd, Padstow Cornwall A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data : Steinbock-Pratt, Sarah, 1982- author. : Educating the empire : American teachers and contested colonization in the Philippines / Sarah Steinbock-Pratt, University of Alabama. : Cambridge, United Kingdom ; New York, NY, USA : Cambridge University Press, 2019. | Series: Cambridge studies in US foreign relations | Includes bibliographical references. :  2018052004|  9781108473125 (hardback) |  9781108461009 (pbk.) : : Education–Philippines–History–20th century. | Teachers–Philippines–History–20th century. | Americans–Philippines–History–20th century. | Imperialism–Social aspects–Philippines–History. | Philippines–History–1898-1946. | United States–Relations–Philippines. | Philippines–Relations–United States. :  1291.8 .74 2019 |  370.9/599–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018052004  978-1-108-47312-5 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Educating the Empire

This book examines how education contributed to the creation of US empire in the Philippines by focusing on American teachers and the Filipinos with whom they lived and worked. While education was located at the heart of the imperial project, used to justify empire, the implementation of schooling in the islands deviated from the expectations of the colonial state. American teachers at times upheld, adapted, circumvented, or entirely disregarded colonial policy. Despite the language of white masculinity that imbued imperial discourse, the appointment of white women and black men as teachers allowed them to claim roles and identities that transformed understandings of gender and race. Filipinos also used the American educational system to articulate their own understandings of empire. In this context, schools were a microcosm for the colonial state, with contestations over education often standing in for the colonial relationship itself.  - is Assistant Professor of History at the University of Alabama.

Cambridge Studies in US Foreign Relations Edited by Paul Thomas Chamberlin, Columbia University Lien-Hang T. Nguyen, Columbia University This series showcases cutting-edge scholarship in US foreign relations that employs dynamic new methodological approaches and archives from the colonial era to the present. The series will be guided by the ethos of transnationalism, focusing on the history of American foreign relations in a global context rather than privileging the US as the dominant actor on the world stage. Also in the Series Aurélie Basha i Novosejt, “I Made Mistakes”: Robert McNamara’s Vietnam War Policy, 1960–1964 Greg Whitesides, Science and American Foreign Relations since World War II Jasper M. Trautsch, The Genesis of America: US Foreign Policy and the Formation of National Identity, 1793–1815 Hideaki Kami, Diplomacy Meets Migration: US Relations with Cuba during the Cold War Shaul Mitelpunkt, Israel in the American Mind: The Cultural Politics of US-Israeli Relations, 1958–1988 Pierre Asselin, Vietnam’s American War: A History Elisabeth Leake, The Defiant Border: The Afghan-Pakistan Borderlands in the Era of Decolonization, 1936–1965 Tuong Vu, Vietnam’s Communist Revolution: The Power and Limits of Ideology Michael E. Neagle, America’s Forgotten Colony: Cuba’s Isle of Pines Lloyd E. Ambrosius, Woodrow Wilson and American Internationalism Geoffrey C. Stewart, Vietnam’s Lost Revolution: Ngô Đình Diệm’s Failure to Build an Independent Nation, 1955–1963 Renata Keller, Mexico’s Cold War: Cuba, the United States, and the Legacy of the Mexican Revolution

Educating the Empire American Teachers and Contested Colonization in the Philippines

SARAH STEINBOCK-PRATT University of Alabama

University Printing House, Cambridge  , United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York,  10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne,  3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 79 Anson Road, #06–04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108473125 : 10.1017/9781108666961 © Sarah Steinbock-Pratt 2019 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2019 Printed in the United Kingdom by TJ International Ltd, Padstow Cornwall A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data : Steinbock-Pratt, Sarah, 1982- author. : Educating the empire : American teachers and contested colonization in the Philippines / Sarah Steinbock-Pratt, University of Alabama. : Cambridge, United Kingdom ; New York, NY, USA : Cambridge University Press, 2019. | Series: Cambridge studies in US foreign relations | Includes bibliographical references. :  2018052004|  9781108473125 (hardback) |  9781108461009 (pbk.) : : Education–Philippines–History–20th century. | Teachers–Philippines–History–20th century. | Americans–Philippines–History–20th century. | Imperialism–Social aspects–Philippines–History. | Philippines–History–1898-1946. | United States–Relations–Philippines. | Philippines–Relations–United States. :  1291.8 .74 2019 |  370.9/599–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018052004  978-1-108-47312-5 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Educating the Empire

This book examines how education contributed to the creation of US empire in the Philippines by focusing on American teachers and the Filipinos with whom they lived and worked. While education was located at the heart of the imperial project, used to justify empire, the implementation of schooling in the islands deviated from the expectations of the colonial state. American teachers at times upheld, adapted, circumvented, or entirely disregarded colonial policy. Despite the language of white masculinity that imbued imperial discourse, the appointment of white women and black men as teachers allowed them to claim roles and identities that transformed understandings of gender and race. Filipinos also used the American educational system to articulate their own understandings of empire. In this context, schools were a microcosm for the colonial state, with contestations over education often standing in for the colonial relationship itself.  - is Assistant Professor of History at the University of Alabama.

Cambridge Studies in US Foreign Relations Edited by Paul Thomas Chamberlin, Columbia University Lien-Hang T. Nguyen, Columbia University This series showcases cutting-edge scholarship in US foreign relations that employs dynamic new methodological approaches and archives from the colonial era to the present. The series will be guided by the ethos of transnationalism, focusing on the history of American foreign relations in a global context rather than privileging the US as the dominant actor on the world stage. Also in the Series Aurélie Basha i Novosejt, “I Made Mistakes”: Robert McNamara’s Vietnam War Policy, 1960–1964 Greg Whitesides, Science and American Foreign Relations since World War II Jasper M. Trautsch, The Genesis of America: US Foreign Policy and the Formation of National Identity, 1793–1815 Hideaki Kami, Diplomacy Meets Migration: US Relations with Cuba during the Cold War Shaul Mitelpunkt, Israel in the American Mind: The Cultural Politics of US-Israeli Relations, 1958–1988 Pierre Asselin, Vietnam’s American War: A History Elisabeth Leake, The Defiant Border: The Afghan-Pakistan Borderlands in the Era of Decolonization, 1936–1965 Tuong Vu, Vietnam’s Communist Revolution: The Power and Limits of Ideology Michael E. Neagle, America’s Forgotten Colony: Cuba’s Isle of Pines Lloyd E. Ambrosius, Woodrow Wilson and American Internationalism Geoffrey C. Stewart, Vietnam’s Lost Revolution: Ngô Đình Diệm’s Failure to Build an Independent Nation, 1955–1963 Renata Keller, Mexico’s Cold War: Cuba, the United States, and the Legacy of the Mexican Revolution

Educating the Empire American Teachers and Contested Colonization in the Philippines

SARAH STEINBOCK-PRATT University of Alabama

University Printing House, Cambridge  , United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York,  10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne,  3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 79 Anson Road, #06–04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108473125 : 10.1017/9781108666961 © Sarah Steinbock-Pratt 2019 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2019 Printed in the United Kingdom by TJ International Ltd, Padstow Cornwall A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data : Steinbock-Pratt, Sarah, 1982- author. : Educating the empire : American teachers and contested colonization in the Philippines / Sarah Steinbock-Pratt, University of Alabama. : Cambridge, United Kingdom ; New York, NY, USA : Cambridge University Press, 2019. | Series: Cambridge studies in US foreign relations | Includes bibliographical references. :  2018052004|  9781108473125 (hardback) |  9781108461009 (pbk.) : : Education–Philippines–History–20th century. | Teachers–Philippines–History–20th century. | Americans–Philippines–History–20th century. | Imperialism–Social aspects–Philippines–History. | Philippines–History–1898-1946. | United States–Relations–Philippines. | Philippines–Relations–United States. :  1291.8 .74 2019 |  370.9/599–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018052004  978-1-108-47312-5 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Educating the Empire

This book examines how education contributed to the creation of US empire in the Philippines by focusing on American teachers and the Filipinos with whom they lived and worked. While education was located at the heart of the imperial project, used to justify empire, the implementation of schooling in the islands deviated from the expectations of the colonial state. American teachers at times upheld, adapted, circumvented, or entirely disregarded colonial policy. Despite the language of white masculinity that imbued imperial discourse, the appointment of white women and black men as teachers allowed them to claim roles and identities that transformed understandings of gender and race. Filipinos also used the American educational system to articulate their own understandings of empire. In this context, schools were a microcosm for the colonial state, with contestations over education often standing in for the colonial relationship itself.  - is Assistant Professor of History at the University of Alabama.

Cambridge Studies in US Foreign Relations Edited by Paul Thomas Chamberlin, Columbia University Lien-Hang T. Nguyen, Columbia University This series showcases cutting-edge scholarship in US foreign relations that employs dynamic new methodological approaches and archives from the colonial era to the present. The series will be guided by the ethos of transnationalism, focusing on the history of American foreign relations in a global context rather than privileging the US as the dominant actor on the world stage. Also in the Series Aurélie Basha i Novosejt, “I Made Mistakes”: Robert McNamara’s Vietnam War Policy, 1960–1964 Greg Whitesides, Science and American Foreign Relations since World War II Jasper M. Trautsch, The Genesis of America: US Foreign Policy and the Formation of National Identity, 1793–1815 Hideaki Kami, Diplomacy Meets Migration: US Relations with Cuba during the Cold War Shaul Mitelpunkt, Israel in the American Mind: The Cultural Politics of US-Israeli Relations, 1958–1988 Pierre Asselin, Vietnam’s American War: A History Elisabeth Leake, The Defiant Border: The Afghan-Pakistan Borderlands in the Era of Decolonization, 1936–1965 Tuong Vu, Vietnam’s Communist Revolution: The Power and Limits of Ideology Michael E. Neagle, America’s Forgotten Colony: Cuba’s Isle of Pines Lloyd E. Ambrosius, Woodrow Wilson and American Internationalism Geoffrey C. Stewart, Vietnam’s Lost Revolution: Ngô Đình Diệm’s Failure to Build an Independent Nation, 1955–1963 Renata Keller, Mexico’s Cold War: Cuba, the United States, and the Legacy of the Mexican Revolution

Educating the Empire American Teachers and Contested Colonization in the Philippines

SARAH STEINBOCK-PRATT University of Alabama

University Printing House, Cambridge  , United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York,  10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne,  3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 79 Anson Road, #06–04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108473125 : 10.1017/9781108666961 © Sarah Steinbock-Pratt 2019 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2019 Printed in the United Kingdom by TJ International Ltd, Padstow Cornwall A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data : Steinbock-Pratt, Sarah, 1982- author. : Educating the empire : American teachers and contested colonization in the Philippines / Sarah Steinbock-Pratt, University of Alabama. : Cambridge, United Kingdom ; New York, NY, USA : Cambridge University Press, 2019. | Series: Cambridge studies in US foreign relations | Includes bibliographical references. :  2018052004|  9781108473125 (hardback) |  9781108461009 (pbk.) : : Education–Philippines–History–20th century. | Teachers–Philippines–History–20th century. | Americans–Philippines–History–20th century. | Imperialism–Social aspects–Philippines–History. | Philippines–History–1898-1946. | United States–Relations–Philippines. | Philippines–Relations–United States. :  1291.8 .74 2019 |  370.9/599–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018052004  978-1-108-47312-5 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

For Eric and Lizzie

Contents

List of Figures

page ix

Acknowledgments

xi

1

Introduction Creating a Catalog of Colonial Knowledge

1 26

2

A Civil Empire: Determining Fitness for Colonial Education

50

3

Professionals and Pioneers: Teachers’ Self-Depiction in Empire

87

4

Recreating Race: Evolving Notions of Whiteness and Blackness in Empire A Political Education: Americans, Filipinos, and the Meanings of Instruction

5 6 7

All Politics Is Local: American Teachers and Their Communities Speaking for Ourselves: Dignity and the Politics of Student Protest

129 173 211 250

Epilogue

290

Bibliography Index

305 321

vii

Figures

I.1 Map of the Philippine Islands (UA Cartographic Research Lab) page 25 3.1 John Henry Manning Butler in 1898 (Negro Stars in All Ages of the World) 101 3.2 Philinda Parsons Rand on Horseback, circa 1901 (Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University) 119 3.3 Mary Helen Fee in 1916 (The Torch, 1916) 123 4.1 The Saleeby Family, circa 1905 (Private collection of Sandra Saleeby) 140 4.2 Gilbert Somers Perez in 1907 (L’Agenda, 1907) 142 4.3 Philinda Rand Being Carried to a Boat, circa 1901 (Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University) 156 4.4 American Teachers and Visitors at Lunch, Baguio Teachers’ Camp, 1912 (RG 350-P, National Archives) 161 5.1 Illustration of Children from The First Year Book (1907) 174 5.2 Illustration of Boys Playing from The First Year Book (1907) 175 5.3 Philinda Rand’s Students in Silay, circa 1901 (Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University) 178 5.4 A Badly Arranged Market (How to Live, 1902) 181 5.5 A Market as It Should Be (How to Live, 1902) 182 5.6 A Game of Indoor Baseball (Softball), Probably in Tanauan, Leyte (Walter W. Marquardt Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan) 184 ix

x

List of Figures

5.7 An Indoor Baseball (Softball) Game, Baguio, 1912 (RG 350-P, National Archives) 5.8 Third Grade Class in Basketry, Arayst, Pampanga, 1928 (RG 350-P, National Archives) 5.9 Sewing Class, Cadiz Elementary School, Negros Occidental, 1928 (RG 350-P, National Archives) 6.1 Margaret Purcell, Philinda Rand, and Sofia Reyes (Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University) 6.2 Susan Gladwin, Mary Cole, and a Filipina Woman (Harry and Mary Cole Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan) 7.1 UP Students Protesting at the Manila Times’ Office, 1918 (Manila Times, 1918) 7.2 North High School Students Pickett City Hall, 1930 (Philippines Herald, February 20, 1930)

185 194 195

236

239 267 274

Acknowledgments

Many friends and scholars contributed to the writing of this book. I am deeply indebted to Laurie B. Green and H. W. Brands for their unfailing support and encouragement. Paul A. Kramer has offered invaluable feedback and guidance on the manuscript and multiple conference papers over the years. Many friends and colleagues read various drafts of this manuscript in progress – my thanks especially go to Rachel Ozanne, Julia Ogden, Juandrea Bates, Bart Elmore, and Hilary Green for their insightful comments and feedback. And to those who helped shape this project from its earliest years, Kyle Shelton, Cristina Salinas, Leah Deane, Deidre Doughty, Eric Bush, Erica Whittington, Luritta DuBois, Emily Brownell, and Shannon Nagy – it was my good fortune to be part of such an amazing community of scholars. I also owe thanks to Robert Abzug, Erika Bsumek, Philippa Levine, Carolyn Eastman, Judy Coffin, Frank Guridy, and Kimberly Alidio for giving generously of their time and ideas. To the archivists who helped me track down a wealth of sources, especially Dhea Santos at the American Historical Collection and Lyn Ocampo at the ALIWW at the Ateneo de Manila, Eimee Lagrama at the library of the University of the Philippines, Diliman, Lee Blake at the New Bedford Historical Society, Amber Miranda at Southeast Missouri State University, Jean Bischoff at Elizabeth City State University, and Jose Barragan at the Bancroft Library at UC Berkeley, this book benefitted enormously from your help. And to the many scholars and researchers in the Philippines who helped me hunt down documents and shared sources, and pointed me in the right direction, especially Mary Racelis, Judy Ick, Rose Marie Mendoza, Tony Perez, Lino Dizon, Corazon

xi

xii

Acknowledgments

Villareal, Perfecto Martin, and Maria Cleofe Marpa Ferrer – your help enriched this project immensely. To all the Thomasite descendants who generously shared your time, your ideas, and your history, I cannot thank you enough, especially Bob Gray, Ruth Bell McArthur, Esperanza del Rosario, Edna Concepcion, Mylene Lysek, Carol Bonner, and Dale and Paul Murphy. And to Stephanie Byrd Wilson and Sandra Saleeby, thank you for sharing your stories and family records. The History Department at the University of Alabama has been a warm and supportive intellectual home. I particularly want to thank Joshua Rothman, Kari Frederickson, Michael Mendle, Howard Jones, Margaret Peacock, Erik Peterson, John Beeler, Sharony Green, Steve Bunker, Andrew Huebner, and Juan Ponce-Vazquez, for your unflagging encouragement, thoughtful advice, and good conversations. Thanks to Debbie Gershenowitz and Rachel Blaifeder for shepherding this project from manuscript to book – working with you has been a real pleasure, and you made a complex process intelligible and smooth. And thanks also to Lien-Hang Nguyen and Paul Chamberlain, and the two anonymous reviewers, for believing in this book and helping to bring it into being. I owe thanks as well to the many more whose ideas and feedback helped make this work stronger and better. While the virtues of this book owe much to wonderful friends and colleagues, its faults remain mine alone. And finally, to my family, who have encouraged and borne with me on this lengthy sojourn, I could not have made it without you. I am endlessly grateful for your love and support. I owe special thanks to Florence Isbell, Sue and Jim Anderson, and Mimi Steinbock and Dennis Rothhaar, for hosting me (and feeding me) during research trips, to my father, David Pratt, for coming with me to several archives, and to my mother, Bonnie Steinbock, for reading the whole dang thing and offering invaluable feedback. And last, and best, to Eric, for the innumerable loving labors that made this journey possible, and to Lizzie, who has sweetened the road that lies ahead. This book is for you.

Introduction

In the summer of 1901, the United States Army Transport Thomas traversed the Pacific Ocean, bearing over 500 American teachers from San Francisco to Manila. In a panegyric written on board, journalist Adeline Knapp hailed the voyage of the “white ship in mid-ocean, her forefoot set toward the Philippines, her deck thronged with young men and women actuated for the most part by high ideals and a genuine desire to be helpful.”1 The Thomas and its voyage became one of the most enduring icons of American colonization of the Philippines. The men and women who traveled to the Philippines on the Thomas styled themselves “Thomasites,” imbuing their own journey with missionary-style purpose, and this moniker came to refer to all of the thousands of American teachers in the early years of colonization.2 The Thomas loomed large on the imperial horizon for two reasons: first, as Knapp’s writing

1 2

Adeline Knapp, “A Notable Educational Expedition,” The Log of the Thomas, Ronald P. Gleason, ed. (Manila: NP, 1901), 11. There is no definite count of the exact number of American teachers who worked in the Philippines. From the annual reports of the General Superintendents of Public Instruction (later called Directors of Education) from 1901 to 1912, it appears that there were close to 2,000 American teachers employed during this period, though the highest number of teachers employed at any one time was 926 in May of 1902. While the number of American teachers dropped from this point onward, it seems reasonable to estimate that during the American colonial period, there would have been several thousand teachers employed overall. See Reports of the Director of Education, 1901–1912, in Library Materials, Record Group 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park; and Twenty-Ninth Annual Report of the Director of Education, For the Calendar Year 1928 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1929), in Library Materials, RG 350, NARA.

1

2

Educating the Empire

demonstrates, the colonial state and its employees engaged in a sustained propaganda campaign to promote the educational mission as the truest emblem of America’s engagement with the Philippines; second, and equally important, the American teachers were an immediate point of contact between Filipinos and the colonial state. Individual interactions between American teachers and Filipinos deeply colored the experience and memory of colonialism, and contributed to the ambivalent legacy of colonialism in the Philippines. The establishment of an educational system in the Philippines created a model for colonial education that was used to justify America’s presence abroad and demonstrate that American empire was inherently “benevolent.” Yet the implementation and consequences of education in the islands did not conform to the expectations of the colonial state. The teachers had their own set of imperial expectations and desires, which at different times led them to uphold, adapt, circumvent, or entirely disregard colonial policy. For many, participation in empire meant the chance to have an adventure, to travel around the world, or to earn a better wage or advance professionally beyond what was possible at home. A colonial position also gave teachers the opportunity to construct new identities for themselves. The American teachers in the Philippines were not just instructors, they were social emissaries, health inspectors, imperial officials, ethnographers, and important members of the community in which they were stationed. Their official positions within empire enabled American teachers to act out their own imperial fantasies, and to make claims to power and authority that would have been impossible at home. At the same time, American teachers confronted local populations with their own fears and hopes regarding colonial education. Teachers were forced to negotiate between their own understandings of American education and empire, and those of Filipino communities and the colonial state. Employees of the United States government, these teachers were part of a wider justification of empire, most notably articulated by Theodore Roosevelt in his 1899 address on “The Strenuous Life,” in which white American men were honor-bound to lift the people of the Philippines out of savagery and into civilization. This work of empire was intimately linked with notions of manly duty, masculine endeavor, and the innate superiority of Anglo-Saxon whiteness. Despite the language of white masculinity that imbued imperial discourse, white women and black men and women also gained positions as teachers. For them especially, an official position within empire offered new economic and social opportunities, and the chance to see themselves as a vital part of the extension of

Introduction

3

American power and civilization on the far side of the world. All of the American teachers headed for the Philippines, male and female, black and white, engaged with ideas of strenuous living and imperial duty in their writings, viewing themselves as personally adventurous, as well as integral members of the imperial project. Thomasite Mary Helen Fee recalled that the departure for Manila “was momentous. I was going to see the world, and I was one of an army of enthusiasts enlisted to instruct our little brown brother, and to pass the torch of Occidental knowledge several degrees east of the international date-line.”3 More so than any other group, American teachers were positioned in between the colonial administration and the Filipino population. The teachers were part of a wave of American labor that flooded into the Philippines after 1899, which included soldiers, missionaries, bureaucrats, public-health inspectors, engineers, and agricultural specialists. There was a significant difference, however, between the role of the teachers and other Americans. The teachers were the only civilian officials, representatives of the US government, who both came into close and sustained contact with Filipinos and who were expected to win hearts and minds, and thus local support for the colonial state. Especially in the early years of education, teachers lived in communities all over the archipelago, sometimes with no other Americans present, and interacted not only with their students in the schools, but socialized with local elites in their homes, served as local health inspectors, and became imbricated into the life of their town. The number of teachers sent to the islands, moreover, was far higher than any other type of civilian official. Finally, it was the teachers who were often responsible for implementing colonial policies on a daily basis, who represented American governance to the native population, and who interpreted the beliefs, capacities, and desires of Filipinos for the civil administration. While teachers often adopted and coopted the official depiction of themselves as benevolent educators and agents of racial uplift, they also used their nationality, gender, race, class, and position within empire in order to assert their own understandings of empire and claims to power and authority. Teachers’ positions as imperial mediators also forced them to adapt to local conditions, negotiate their understanding of what colonial education would mean, and compromise with the Filipinos in their stations, especially elite members of the community. Civil officials might set colonial 3

Mary H. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines (Chicago: A. C. McClurg & Co., 1910), 12.

4

Educating the Empire

policy in Manila, but it was the teachers who were primarily responsible for achieving success in schoolwork and convincing local populations to “Americanize.” Filipinos used the American educational system to articulate their own understandings of empire, which often challenged the narrative of benevolent tutelage cultivated by the colonial state and American teachers. In this context, the politics of the schoolhouse were particularly fraught. Schools were a microcosm for the colonial state, with negotiations and contestations over colonial education often standing in for struggles over the colonial relationship itself. The colonial state was constructed through both collaboration and conflict, and the schools were at the heart of this process. The relationships between teachers and students highlight this crucial point – colonization intermingled contestation, cooperation, and adaptation together in the same communities, schools, and even sometimes within the same individuals. This is part of why the legacy of colonial education and the US presence in the Philippines itself can be so ambivalent. Empire was not simply a process of power inflicted from above or resisted from below. It was a complex matrix of various actors with different agendas and unequal ability to enact their visions of the colonial relationship, all operating on the same field at once. The colonial relationship caught teachers and students alike in the paradox of empire. In theory, the colonial relationship was defined by a “politics of recognition” in which Filipinos were faced with either accepting the terms of “civilization” as outlined by the United States, or rejecting them and being branded as “savage” and therefore unworthy of self-government.4 If Filipinos accepted the terms of the colonial relationship, they would be granted inclusion within the notion of civilized citizenry, once they had achieved certain vague benchmarks. However, at the same time that teachers adopted the language of benevolent reform, they often used their roles as arbiters of Filipino progress to implicitly (and sometimes explicitly) deny Filipino capacity for self-rule and racial progress. To do otherwise would be to negate the need for their presence in empire, and to undermine the justification for colonization. Filipinos, then, were caught in a cycle of inequality. If they rejected the goals of Americanization (couched in the language of modernity), or questioned the capacity of Americans to judge their progress, their teachers labeled 4

For more on the politics of recognition, see Paul A. Kramer, The Blood of Government: Race, Empire, the United States, and the Philippines (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 18.

Introduction

5

them ungrateful children, and unworthy of self-government. If they did attempt to fully Americanize, they were labeled second-class citizens – inferior models of a superior civilization. Both the colonial state and the teachers, however, attempted to walk the fine line between withholding full recognition while not pushing their colonial charges into open opposition. Depicting colonial education as completely distinct from military pacification was part of this process. Schools were presented by the US government, the colonial state, and the teachers themselves as separate from war and violence. A November 1901 issue of Puck included a cartoon titled “It’s Up to Them,” with Uncle Sam holding out a soldier and a female schoolteacher in either hand to recalcitrant Filipinos.5 The message was that the Philippines could choose violence or suasion, and that collaboration with the colonial state, including colonial education, was an alternative to war. In reality, of course, colonization was a process of both violence and suasion, with colonial schools inextricably linked to the coercion of American military might. Public education was intended from the beginning to act as a complement to warfare, as a tool of pacification and colonial control. The implicit (and sometimes explicit) premise of colonial education was that it would forestall or end Filipino demands for independence. Once Filipinos realized the benefits that would accrue to them under the colonial state, once they Americanized, the thinking went, they would be content to remain under the American flag. Of course, this logic failed to recognize that Filipinos could both seize opportunities offered by empire and still desire and work for national sovereignty. This book is fundamentally interested in examining how education contributed to the creation of US empire in the Philippines, and the ways that this colonial project was formed through the contests and collaboration of a variety of actors with different goals and desires, which in turn indelibly shaped the contours of colonization. In so doing, I hope that this work will make two primary contributions, to the field of the United States in the world and to the histories of race and gender. First, by examining the experiences of those actually responsible for implementing a vital aspect of the American colonial state in the Philippines, the American teachers, this book moves past traditional narratives of empire to reveal the ways in which the colonial state was worked out on the ground. 5

“It’s Up to Them,” Puck, November 20, 1901, https://www.loc.gov/item/2010651486/ [accessed June 20, 2018].

6

Educating the Empire

This illuminates the gulf between colonial theory and praxis, and how individual actors influenced and altered the colonial state. While there has been no monograph entirely on American colonial education in the Philippines, most works touching on this history have either focused primarily on the perspectives of government and educational officials and the imperial policies they created or have examined colonial education through a comparative and transnational lens.6 Contests and negotiations in schoolhouses and in private homes shed light on the creation of colonial authority, but also on its boundaries and limitations. By juxtaposing the letters, diaries, and articles of over two dozen teachers, scattered in archives across the United States, my work delves into the ways in which teachers experienced and understood their roles within empire, and the complex positions they held between war and peace, coercion and suasion. In addition, comparing these sources to official records, periodicals, and the personal papers of imperial administrators reveals the gulf between official policies and the day-to-day functioning of empire, demonstrating how the implementation of empire on the ground often deviated from the expectations of the colonial state. Finally, I have read across these sources, utilized archival records in the Philippines, and mined newspapers published in Manila and in the provinces in order to understand the experiences, perspectives, and challenges of the Filipinos who came into contact with American teachers. This approach reveals how and why the Thomasites’ own visions of empire diverged from the views of those above and below their authority in crucial ways. This book, then, is located at the junction of the best-laid plans of the colonial state and what actually happened. Colonization was a contested and negotiated process for all its participants, and colonial policymakers and officials could never fully dictate the shape and contours of American control. Who was supposed to be hired for colonial positions versus who

6

See, for example, Glenn A. May, Social Engineering: The Aims, Execution and Impact of American Colonial Policy, 1900–1913 (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1980); Kramer, The Blood of Government; Julian Go and Anne L. Foster, ed., The American Colonial State in the Philippines: Global Perspectives (Durham: Duke University Press, 2003); and Jonathan Zimmerman, Innocents Abroad: American Teachers in the American Century (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009). Some notable exceptions include Peter J. Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites” (PhD diss., Cornell University, 2006); and Kimberly A. Alidio, “Between Civilizing Mission and Ethnic Assimilation: Racial Discourse, U.S. Colonial Education and Filipino Ethnicity, 1901–1946” (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 2001).

Introduction

7

actually was, what students were supposed to learn versus what they actually took away from their lessons, how employees were supposed to behave versus what they chose to do – while the power of individual actors was limited, they nevertheless had the ability to shape the process of colonization. The differing and often conflicting desires of these imperial actors led to the creation of a somewhat ad hoc system of colonial education, with policies enacted and altered in response to conditions on the ground. What happened in the schools was central to the colonial state because education was located at the heart of the imperial project. Colonial officials used the educational mission as a primary justification of empire. Beyond this, presenting colonial schools as part of a mythic narrative of benevolence helped the US and insular governments to define the entire colonial state through the metaphor of tutelage and assimilation. Virtually every interaction between the colonial government and the Filipino people was cast as part of a civilizing mission, paving the way for eventual self-government.7 Promoting the idea of colonial governance as a school allowed the insular state not only to justify the colonial project as benevolent, but also to deemphasize the coercive aspects of colonial “education.” At the same time as the schools were central to the narrative of the colonial state, an organizing metaphor for the American presence in the islands, the language of education and instruction became the primary grounds on which Filipinos could challenge US authority. The schools functioned as a stress test of the colonial project, highlighting its strengths and fractures. The interactions between American teachers and Filipino students and community members reveal the ways that Filipinos could utilize the logic of tutelage and colonialism as they attempted to redefine the colonial relationship. Even as colonial officials used the metaphor of instruction to justify empire and withhold independence, then, these micro-collaborations and contests in schoolhouses and homes throughout the islands indelibly shaped the colonial state. The system of education created in the Philippines is particularly worthy of focus as one fully integrated into state power. Unlike other imperial powers, which relied on missionaries and nongovernmental actors, secular education was incorporated as a central piece of the colonial state. The educational project in the Philippines, moreover, was the largest in American empire. The islands’ large population enabled

7

Kramer, The Blood of Government, 201.

8

Educating the Empire

colonial officials to justify the use English as the sole language of instruction and necessitated the importation of more American teachers. Thousands of Americans teachers were sent to the Philippines in the first decades of the twentieth century, compared to hundreds sent to Puerto Rico during the same period, and only a handful of educational administrators and specialists sent to Cuba.8 Moreover, the islands were the only site of overseas empire engaged in an active rebellion against US authority, which made education doubly important as a tool of pacification and rationalization of colonization. The location of the islands provided a crucial foothold in Asian markets, and thus made an effective colonial state particularly important. Finally, elite Filipinos may have had less control over the inauguration of an educational system than did Puerto Ricans and Cubans, but because of the desire to secure elite collaboration, they retained more leverage over the framework of the schools than was common in schools for Native American and even African American children.9 Second, by focusing on the ways in which understandings of hierarchy and markers of privilege evolved in the Philippines, this book attempts to reframe the histories of race and gender in empire. Foregrounding the teachers’ own voices and the language they used to describe themselves, the people around them, and the events in which they participated, illuminates the ways in which colonial actors expressed, utilized, and constructed notions of race and gender. A primary source of conflict in the educational system revolved around the issue of fitness – the attempts of colonial officials to define the ideal teacher, American teachers’ claims to be the best colonizers, and Filipino assertions of the capacity for selfrule. These battles over fitness, often expressed in the language of race and gender, were fundamentally about defining what empire and the colonial

8

9

For an examination of American education in Puerto Rico, see Solsiree del Moral, Negotiating Empire: The Cultural Politics of Schools in Puerto Rico, 1898–1912 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2013). There was no mass importation of American teachers to Cuba by the military government, as such a step was strenuously opposed by the Cuban people, though Cuban teachers were brought to the United States for instruction. See Marial Iglesias Utset, A Cultural History of Cuba during the U.S. Occupation, 1898–1902, trans. Russ Davidson (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2011, orig. pub. Las Metáforas del cambio en las vida cotidiana: Cuba, 1898–1902, Ediciones Unión, Havana, Cuba, 2003), 75. For more on education in the US and the ways that it prepared white and nonwhite students for separate and unequal notions of citizenship, see Clif Stratton, Education for Empire: American Schools, Race, and the Paths of Good Citizenship (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2016).

Introduction

9

relationship was and should be. Examining the gulf between official policy and practice, and the way different actors claimed positions in empire, reveals the fractures in colonial hierarchies. At the same time that gendered and racialized notions of fitness were being used to articulate visions of the colonial state, these categories of difference were evolving in the context of empire. Previous histories of empire have examined how white men, amid growing fears of white racial degeneracy and over-civilization, looked to empire as a vehicle to reassert their virile masculinity and racial supremacy. However, the presence of white women and black men and women as government teachers, official agents of civilization, disrupts this narrative. Rather than construing their experiences as expressions of maternalism or domesticity – which many scholars argue was the linchpin of women’s Progressive Era politics – white female teachers in the Philippines engaged with traditionally masculine notions of colonial power, constructing identities as adventurers, imperial officials and professionals.10 White women appealed to race and nationality to claim positions in empire and as arbiters of Filipino progress. Locating themselves between American notions of femininity and masculinity, white women’s identities in empire fluctuated as they navigated different circumstances. Indeed, even presenting these two narratives as at different ends of a spectrum obscures the ways in which they were intertwined and informed each other. This is, perhaps, the most 10

See, for example, Paula Baker, “The Domestication of Politics: Women and American Political Society, 1780–1920,” in Women, the State, and Welfare, ed. Linda Gordon (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1990); Molly Ladd-Taylor, Mother-Work: Women, Child Welfare, and the State, 1890–1930 (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1994); Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880–1917 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995); Martin Summers, Manliness and Its Discontents: The Black Middle Class and the Transformation of Masculinity, 1900–1930 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004); Kristin Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood: How Gender Politics Provoked the Spanish-American and Philippine-American Wars. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998); Vicente Rafael, White Love and Other Events in Filipino History (Durham: Duke University Press, 2000); Laura Wexler, Tender Violence: Domestic Visions in an Age of U.S. Imperialism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2000); and Kramer, The Blood of Government. Several scholars of the British Empire have also provided useful comparisons. See Antoinette Burton, Burdens of History: British Feminists, Indian Women, and Imperial Culture, 1865–1915 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994); Vron Ware, Beyond the Pale: White Women, Racism and History (New York: Verso, 1992); Tracey Jean Boisseau, White Queen: May French-Sheldon and the Imperial Origins of American Feminist Identity (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004); and Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest (New York: Routledge, 1995).

10

Educating the Empire

crucial point. Rather than having to choose between the ideas of maternalism and the strenuous life, it was possible for women to engage with and understand themselves through both discourses to varying degrees.11 Understandings of race were also in flux in the colonial Philippines as American and Filipino notions of hierarchy and social position came into conflict. Much has already been written about the contested process of racial formation in the early twentieth century, including both the creation of whiteness in the United States and the racialization of Filipinos that was central to colonization.12 In the context of US empire in the Philippines, however, the boundaries of whiteness also shifted. The desire to draw a clear line between colonizers and colonized, between Americans and Filipinos, created an imperial conundrum: how to preserve colonial hierarchies, which typically conflated racial and national identities, when faced with nonwhite or liminally white Americans? For at least some Americans, the answer meant broadening the definition of, or at least the prerogatives of, whiteness. Understandings of blackness and color were also evolving in the colonial Philippines. The history of African American participation in empire remains largely understudied. While scholars have begun to pay more attention to the black experience of American empire, most of the focus has been on African American soldiers.13 This is understandable, given that soldiers made up by far the largest segment of the black 11

12

13

As the work of Laurie B. Green demonstrates, women’s appeals to universal notions of manhood were not limited to the context of American empire. In Battling the Plantation Mentality, Green argues that invoking manhood enabled black women to “assert their own courage, claim equality rather than subservience, and even challenge men.” Laurie B. Green, Battling the Plantation Mentality: Memphis and the Black Freedom Struggle (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007), 261. See, for example, David R. Roediger, Working Toward Whiteness: How America’s Immigrants Became White: The Strange Journey from Ellis Island to the Suburbs (New York: Basic Books, 2006); Matthew Frye Jacobson, Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998); Vicente L. Raphael, White Love and Other Events in Filipino History (Durham: Duke University Press, 2000); Kramer, The Blood of Government; Richard Chu, Chinese and Chinese Mestizos of Manila: Family, Identity, and Culture, 1860s–1930s (Boston: Brill, 2010); Michael C. Hawkins, Making Moros: Imperial Historicism and American Military Rule in the Philippines’ Muslim South (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2013); Mae M. Ngai, Impossible Subjects: Illegal Aliens and the Making of Modern America (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004, new edition 2014); and Natalie Molina, How Race Is Made in America: Immigration, Citizenship, and the Historical Power of Racial Scripts (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014). For some examples of scholarly work on African Americans and empire, see Willard B. Gatewood, Jr., “Smoked Yankees” and the Struggle for Empire: Letters from Negro

Introduction

11

American population overseas.14 However, the presence of black civilians who were government employees in the Philippines disrupted the narrative of white American supremacy, which placed white colonizers above a nonwhite native population. In turn, the dynamics of power and privilege were complicated by the project of empire. Black teachers were able to position themselves as representatives of America and official purveyors of civilization – a role that would have not been possible back home, as black Americans, especially in the Jim Crow South, were often denied not only the basic rights of citizens, but ideological inclusion within the body politic itself. Their inclusion in colonization challenged the linking of whiteness with empire and the spread of civilization. Finally, black teachers argued that their racial sympathy with the Filipino people uniquely suited them to be benevolent colonizers, and linked racial oppression in the United States to the imperial mission in the Philippines. Though their numbers were never large, the very presence of black teachers in the Philippines provides important insight into the ways in which the experience of empire interacted with domestic understandings of race. African American teachers’ arguments about racial sympathy and the “race of color” linked racial oppression in the United States to the Filipino struggle for independence, presaging later transnational and transracial arguments forwarded by African Americans during World War II and the Cold War in order to advocate for civil rights.

14

Soldiers (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1971); Gatewood, Black Americans and the White Man’s Burden, 1898–1903 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1975); George P. Marks III, The Black Press Views American Imperialism (1898–1900) (New York: Arno Press, 1971); Michael Robinson and Frank N. Schubert, “David Fagen: An AfroAmerican Rebel in the Philippines, 1899–1901,” Pacific Historical Review 44 (1975): 68–83; Scot Brown, “White Backlash and the Aftermath of Fagen’s Rebellion: The Fates of Three African-American Soldiers in the Philippines, 1901–1902,” Contributions in Black Studies 13, no. 1, article 5 (1995): 165–73; Scot Brown, “African-American Soldiers and Filipinos: Racial Imperialism, Jim Crow and Social Relations,” The Journal of Negro History 82, no. 1 (Winter 1997): 42–53; Steffi San Buenaventura, “The Colors of Manifest Destiny: Filipinos and the American Other(s), Amerasia Journal 24, no. 3 (1998): 1–26; Michele Mitchell, “‘The Black Man’s Burden’: African Americans, Imperialism, and Notions of Racial Manhood 1890–1910,” International Review of Social History 44 (1999), Supplement: 77–99. There were four black regiments in the regular army sent to the Philippines: the 9th and 10th Cavalries, and the 24th and 25th Infantry Regiments. In addition to this, there were several black volunteer regiments, including the 48th and 49th Regiments. Michael Robinson and Frank Schubert estimate that over 5,000 African Americans served in the Philippines, though it is not clear if this number only includes the regiments in the regular army. See Robinson and Schubert, “David Fagen,” 73, n23.

12

Educating the Empire

The experience of black teachers in the Philippines, therefore, reframes the histories of both black migration and activism.

        Multiple changes in American domestic circumstances and foreign policy in the decades after the Civil War foreshadowed the voyage of the Thomasites. The United States had undergone steady economic and territorial growth since the mid-nineteenth century. By the 1890s, many in the US were already scouting for potential colonies, as a combination of industrialization, the extermination or concentration of Native American tribes, and the expansion to Pacific Coast had left Americans looking for both new frontiers and new markets.15 At the same time, Spain, desperately trying to hold on to the remnants of its empire, became embroiled in colonial revolts in Cuba and the Philippines. Cuban revolutionaries rose up against colonial rule in 1895. In early 1896, General Valeriano Weyler, the former Governor-General of the Philippines, was sent to quell the insurgency. Weyler instituted a policy of reconcentrado, forcing Cubans into camps where many died of disease or starvation. Tensions rose between the United States and Spain as sensationalist press accounts of the cruel treatment of Cubans were published in American papers. Responding to American outrage, President McKinley demanded that Spain implement meaningful reforms. Early in 1898, McKinley sent the USS Maine to Havana Harbor, ostensibly to protect American lives, but also as a demonstration of American power.16 A month later, after the Maine exploded and sank, the situation deteriorated rapidly, leading McKinley to ask Congress for a declaration of war in April. The Philippines had also only recently been in a state of revolt. In the early 1890s, Filipino ilustrados, or educated elites, in Hong Kong and Spain began agitating for imperial reform, especially for representation in the Spanish legislature. At the same time, the push for revolution was beginning in the Philippines. In 1892, Andrés Bonifacio formed the Katipunan, a revolutionary society composed mainly of urban clerks and artisans. In 1896, Spanish authorities uncovered the conspiracy and took 15 16

H. W. Brands, Bound to Empire: The United States and the Philippines (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 13, 16–19. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 82; and Brands, Bound to Empire, 20–21.

Introduction

13

harsh action against suspected rebels, including executing reformer José Rizal in December of 1896, which set off the revolt that would eventually become the Philippine Revolution. Despite inferior arms and internal divisions, the Katipunan managed to fight the Spanish to an impasse. In late 1897, Emilio Aguinaldo, the leader of the Katipunan, agreed to disarm and go into exile in Hong Kong in return for amnesty, promises of colonial reform, and a cash indemnity. Despite the armistice, Aguinaldo and his officers began a hunt for arms and support from foreign governments, preparing for the day when they could resume the fight.17 They did not have long to wait. For the exiled members of the Katipunan, the outbreak of war between Spain and the US seemed to be a favorable turn of events for the Philippine independence movement, especially after Admiral George Dewey steamed into Manila Bay and decimated the Spanish fleet.18 Calling the American forces the Filipinos’ “redeemers,” Aguinaldo rhetorically extended America’s professed motivations for its involvement in Cuba to the Philippines.19 Around the same time, the American consul in Singapore contacted Aguinaldo and suggested an alliance between US and Katipunan forces. According to Aguinaldo, the consul also gave his word (and Dewey’s) that the US would grant the Philippines independence, at least under protectorate status. Buoyed by these assurances, Aguinaldo returned home, arriving in Manila in May, reassembled his revolutionary forces, and joined the fighting. In June, Aguinaldo proclaimed the independence of the Philippines. By this point, however, the alliance was beginning to fray, as American commanders received instructions to distance themselves from their Filipino counterparts, and to make no promises regarding independence. On August 13, after keeping Filipino forces out of the battle for Manila, the US Army accepted the Spanish surrender. That same month, Aguinaldo moved the seat of his government to Malolos, and convened a Philippine Congress, which began to draft a constitution.20 Before that constitution could be proclaimed in January 1899, however, Spain signed the Treaty of Paris, ceding Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines to the United States in exchange for a token payment of $20 million. Fighting between American and Filipino forces broke out the next month. 17 19 20

18 Kramer, The Blood of Government, 73–77, 81. Brands, Bound to Empire, 23–24. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 84–85. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 94–99; and Brands, Bound to Empire, 45–47.

14

Educating the Empire

The Philippine–American War can be divided into three phases of warfare.21 The first lasted from February to November of 1899, and was characterized by conventional warfare. Beginning in November, recognizing the impossibility of winning in pitched battles, Aguinaldo turned to guerilla warfare. Aguinaldo was eventually captured, and in April 1901 swore allegiance to the American government and called on his followers to surrender. From the beginning of guerilla warfare, the US Army attempted to end the war by fiat, simply declaring legitimate resistance to be over.22 In the summer of 1902, Theodore Roosevelt issued a proclamation declaring the “insurrection against American authority and sovereignty” to be at an end, and granting amnesty to all combatants for acts of war committed before May 1, 1902. Yet armed resistance continued in parts of the islands until 1913. In this third phase of warfare, however, the Philippine Commission refused to recognize the remnants of the Philippine Army as legitimate combatants, labeling them ladrones, or bandits, in the Brigandage Act passed in November 1902.23 Whether the army or the Philippine Commission acknowledged that a war was ongoing, Americans and Filipinos continued to fight, and to die. American generals and soldiers, unused to tropical guerilla warfare, and increasingly frustrated with their inability to tell friend from foe, began to characterize guerilla tactics as “savage,” and Filipino people themselves as “uncivilized.” This classification resulted in brutal tactics, including torture, the burning of entire villages, and the adoption of the muchdecried Spanish policy of “reconcentration.” The upheaval, malnutrition, and unsanitary conditions caused by these policies resulted in diseases, which certainly claimed tens of thousands, and possibly hundreds of thousands of lives.24

21

22 23 24

For excellent discussions of the Philippine-American War, see Amy Blitz, The Contested State: American Foreign Policy and Regime Change in the Philippines (New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2000); Brands, Bound to Empire; Kramer, The Blood of Government; Kramer, “Race-Making and Colonial Violence in the U.S. Empire: The Philippine-American War as Race War,” Diplomatic History 30, no. 2 (April 2006); and Samuel K. Tan, The Filipino-American War, 1899–1913 (Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 2002). Kramer, “Race-Making and Colonial Violence in the U.S. Empire,” 194. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 151–5. For more on this phase of the Philippine–American War, see Kramer, The Blood of Government; and Tan, The Filipino-American War. While formal rebellion was virtually over by 1902, resistance continued in Luzon and the Visayas in the form of millenarian movements. These movements were largely repressed by 1906, though smaller, aftershock uprisings continued for the next few years. Mindanao and Sulu in the southern

Introduction

15

At the same time, the military reopened the public schools, clearly linking education to the overall war effort. Lieutenant-General Arthur MacArthur, who succeeded General Elwell Otis as Military Governor of the Philippines, declared that the appropriation of government funds for schools was “recommended primarily and exclusively as an adjunct to military operations, calculated to pacify the people and procure and expedite the restoration of tranquility throughout the archipelago.”25 Warfare and education, then, were two sides of the same coin, intended to convince Filipinos to accept American rule. Despite ongoing warfare, President McKinley prepared for the transition to civilian governance by sending two delegations to the Philippines within the span of a year and a half. The first Philippine Commission, also called the Schurman Commission, was established in January, 1899, and arrived in the islands that March, just one month after the outbreak of hostilities. This committee, headed by Jacob Gould Schurman, the President of Cornell University, was given the task of investigating conditions in the Philippines in order to provide recommendations for the formulation of a civilian government. Despite resistance from the military, the commission met with and interviewed dozens of prominent Filipinos and foreigners, mostly Americans and Europeans. The commission never ventured outside of Manila, however, and primarily interviewed those who were already sympathetic (or at least resigned) to American authority.26 The Second Philippine Commission, headed by federal circuit judge William Howard Taft, was given executive and legislative powers, and would become the foundation of the civilian colonial government.27 The Taft Commission arrived in Manila in June of 1900 and, after briefly studying conditions in the islands, issued a report advocating for the

25

26 27

Philippines, which were largely populated by Muslims called “Moros” by the Spanish government, experienced a very different colonial conquest. At the beginning of the Philippine–American War, the US Army made overtures to the Sultan of Sulu and to the Datus of Mindanao, hoping to preempt or delay the outbreak of hostilities with the Moro provinces. Once the war with Christian Filipinos began to wind down, however, the military could focus on extending control to these areas. In 1903, the Moro Province was created, and was ruled by the US Army until 1914. Outbreaks of violence between Moro and American forces lasted throughout this period. “Report of the Lieutenant-General Commanding the Army,” Part 2, in Annual Reports of the War Department for the Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1901 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1901), 258. Blitz, The Contested State, 36–37. For more on the creation and functioning of the Second Philippine Commission, see Stanley Karnow, In Our Image: America’s Empire in the Philippines (New York: Random House, 1989), 168–77.

16

Educating the Empire

creation of a civilian-controlled constabulary, public works, a new tax system, judicial reforms, and a system of universal public instruction, to be conducted in English. McKinley granted the commission the power to levy taxes, enact laws, set tariffs, and establish courts of law. By December of that year, the Philippine Commission had passed fifty-five pieces of legislation.28 In January 1901, the commission passed Act 74, providing for the establishment of a system of public education. The American educational system in the Philippines was intended to justify America’s presence abroad. On December 21, 1898, McKinley declared that the policy of the United States in the Philippines would be one of “benevolent assimilation.” Education fulfilled a vital ideological component of this imperial project. The United States government and the Philippine Commission clearly wanted the educational mission to serve as the primary representative of American intentions. Administrators argued that, by virtue of its pedagogical bent, the American imperial mission was “unique” in the history of the world. As Fred Atkinson declared in the Atlantic Monthly, there was “no clearer expression of American purposes with regard to the Philippines than was presented in the reopening and organizing of schools by military commanders as soon as peace was restored at their posts.”29 Two years after the start of the Philippine–American War, then, and just months after the army had captured Aguinaldo, the United States government sent out a call for teachers to instruct the inhabitants of America’s newest colonial possession. Throughout the summer of 1901, transports brought teachers to Manila; among those was the Thomas, which brought the largest group. By the next year, despite ongoing warfare, over 900 American teachers were working throughout the islands. The United States and the Philippine Commission did not create the insular system of education from whole cloth, though it was sometimes presented in that way. Rather than being a unique, unprecedented attempt, colonial officials and educators in the Philippines drew theoretical inspiration from multiple older discourses, including European colonial experiences and previous American educational attempts aimed at “foreign” populations in the United States such as recent immigrants,

28 29

Blitz, The Contested State, 39–40. Fred Atkinson, “The Educational Problem in the Philippines,” Atlantic Monthly 89, no. 533 (March 1902): 361.

Introduction

17

African Americans, and Native Americans.30 Before Fred Atkinson assumed his position as the first General Superintendent of Public Instruction for the Philippines, Governor Taft suggested that he prepare himself for his new position by reading Charles E. Trevelyan’s On the Education of the People in India (1838), and by visiting Hampton, Tuskegee, and Carlisle, institutes which provided manual and agriculture education for African Americans and Native Americans.31 Atkinson was deeply impressed by what he saw at Hampton and Tuskegee, declaring that the insular government “must beware the possibility of overdoing the matter of higher education and unfitting the Filipino for practical work.” Rather, he continued, the “education of the masses here must be an agricultural and industrial one, after the pattern of our Tuskegee Institute at home.”32 These precedents were useful to pedagogical initiatives in the Philippines precisely because they shared a common mission: to turn a perceived foreign and potentially subversive population into Americanized citizen– subjects, and productive workers. Education was the key ingredient for this process: the silver bullet that would transform the foreign into the familiar, the savage into the (second-class) citizen. The example of Native American education was also influential in the creation of schools for non-Christian Filipinos. David P. Barrows, the first head of the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, was inclined to view public instruction in the Philippines through the lens of Indian education. When he received an appointment as a teacher in the Philippines, Barrows wrote to Frederick Starr, his former professor at the University of Chicago, that he believed his training in anthropology would be useful, noting, “I hope to do something among the native races.”33 In another letter to Starr, Barrows conceded that he did not “know much about the position” he

30

31

32 33

For more on education and immigration, see Lawrence A. Cremin, The Transformation of the School: Progressivism in American Education, 1876–1957 (New York: Vintage Books, 1964); and Michael McGerr, A Fierce Discontent: The Rise and Fall of the Progressive Movement in America, 1870–1920 (New York: Free Press, 2003). Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites,” 157. Hampton Institute was founded in 1868 to educate freedmen and women. Tuskegee Institute was founded in 1881 by Hampton graduate Booker T. Washington, with largely the same mission. Atkinson, “The Present Educational Movement in the Philippines,” cited in Brands, Bound to Empire, 69. David P. Barrows, letter to Frederick Starr, July 27, 1900, folder 1, box 1, David P. Barrows Papers, 1890–1954 [hereafter Barrows Papers], Bancroft Library, University of California at Berkeley. Barrows received a Master’s in Political Science from the University of California in 1895, and a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago in 1897. He worked with, among others, Frederick Starr, a famous professor of Anthropology.

18

Educating the Empire

was to fill, but that he would try “to get transferred into the organization of a system controlling the wild tribes.” The insular government, Barrows opined, would “have to extend to much of the islands a reservation system similar to the Indian service here at home.”34 This belief demonstrates the ways that the administration of Native Americans shaped officials’ expectations of empire.35 These pedagogical techniques aimed at Americanizing colonized peoples had been traversing the globe for decades by the time the United States had annexed the Philippines. Educational theories formulated by the Swiss pedagogue Johann Pestalozzi became popular in the United States in the mid-nineteenth century, creating a new emphasis on manual and industrial education. These theories were implemented in schools as remote as Hawaii, Alaska, and Indian schools in the West.36 The educational models pioneered by missionaries in Hawaii also had an enormous impact on industrial education in the United States. The son of a former missionary who later became the Minister of Public Instruction, Samuel Chapman Armstrong would travel around the islands to visit the schools his father supervised. When Armstrong was chosen to head Hampton Institute, he modeled it after the manual and industrial schools he had seen in Hawaii.37

34 35

36

37

Barrows, letter to Starr, August 18, 1900, folder 1, box 1, Barrows Papers. For more on Native American education, see Katherine Iverson, “Civilization and Assimilation in the Colonized Schooling of Native Americans,” Education and Colonialism, ed. Philip G. Altbach and Gail P. Kelly (New York: Longman Inc., 1978); and David Wallace Adams, Education for Extinction: American Indians and the Boarding School Experience, 1875–1928 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1995). For the links between Indian schools and the Philippines, see Anne Paulet, “To Change the World: The Use of American Indian Education in the Philippines,” History of Education Quarterly 47, no. 2 (May 2007): 173. C. Kalani Beyer, “The Connection of Samuel Chapman Armstrong as Both Borrower and Architect of Education in Hawai’i,” History of Education Quarterly 47, no. 1 (February 2007): 24. See also, Sarah Manekin, “Spreading the Empire of Free Education, 1865–1905” (PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2009). Manekin notes that educators used the “object method” to teach English in schools in Alaska, showing objects (or pictures of objects) to students and teaching them to say and write the word. Manekin, “Spreading the Empire of Free Education,” 137. This method would also be utilized in the Philippines. Beyer, “The Connection of Samuel Chapman Armstrong,” 23–5. Hawaii was annexed by the United States in 1898, in the context of a likely American presence in the Pacific. For more on the gradual increase of American presence and control of Hawaii, see Kēhaulani Kauanui, Hawaiian Blood: Colonialism and the Politics of Sovereignty and Indigeneity (Durham: Duke University Press, 2008); and Sarah Vowel, Unfamiliar Fishes (New York: Riverhead Books, 2011).

Introduction

19

Beyond educational policies and tactics, the influence of Hawaiian, African American, and Native American education was brought to the Philippines by some of the teachers themselves. At least two white male teachers from Hampton Institute were appointed as teachers.38 Several teachers from Indian schools and from Hawaii also decided to participate in the new colonial project.39 These instructors carried with them the pedagogies utilized with black and Indian children in the United States, as well as a faith that their experience would be directly applicable and effective in the Philippines. American teachers were not operating on an educational blank slate in the Philippines, either. As part of Spanish attempts at liberal reform in the nineteenth century, the colonial government in Manila instituted the Education Reform Law of 1863, which established compulsory primary education and expanded tertiary education.40 By the 1890s, close to 200,000 students in the Philippines were receiving some primary education every year, though higher education was still almost entirely restricted to elite and wealthy Filipinos.41 Despite some secularization of the educational system, these reforms were not implemented evenly, and at the end of the century friars largely maintained control over education.42 When American civilian teachers arrived in their new stations, then, they were often stepping into the husk of the Spanish educational system. In many cases, American schools were literally built on the back of the Spanish colonial state, established inside old school buildings and staffed by Filipino veterans of the Spanish system.43 When American 38

39 40

41

42 43

“Memorandum,” folder 1846, box 226, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA; and “February Appointments,” folder 2717, box 274, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA. On the Thomas alone, there were seven teachers coming from Hawaii, and two from Indian schools. See Gleason, ed., The Log of the Thomas, 50, 63, 65. Judith Raftery, “Textbook Wars: Governor-General James Francis Smith and the Protestant-Catholic Conflict in Public Education in the Philippines, 1904–1907,” History of Education Quarterly 38, no. 2 (Summer 1998): 147–8. Despite the ostensible secularization of education, parish priests still wielded considerable influence over the career of teachers. See Ma. Luisa Camagay, Working Women of Manila in the 19th Century (Manila: University of the Philippines Press, 1995), 61–71. May, Social Engineering, 78. See also, Michael Cullinane, Ilustrado Politics: Filipino Elite Responses to American Rule, 1898–1908 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2003), 29–32. Raftery, “Textbook Wars,” 147–8. See also, Camagay, Working Women of Manila in the 19th Century, 61–71. American officials and teachers often depicted both as inferior and not suited for American purposes. For a discussion on the varied ways in which the United States borrowed from Spanish colonial governance, see Paul A. Kramer, “Historias Transimperiales:

20

Educating the Empire

soldiers were detailed to reopen schools and begin teaching English, they often worked with a previously established system of teachers and students. This practice continued under the civil administration.44 The task of the American teachers, then, was not always to build a school from the ground up (though some teachers did face that challenge), but to reform existing schools according to American standards. In some ways, this was a more challenging task, as teachers had to contend with locals’ expectations of what education meant. A common complaint by American teachers was that under the Spanish system students had learned by rote, enabling them to parrot back long passages of text, but understanding little of what they had memorized.45 In addition, teacher Walter W. Marquardt declared that while most parents wanted their children to be educated, they expected that two or three years would be sufficient, noting that under the Spanish system a bachelor degree could be obtained in a total of seven years of schooling.46 Americans gathering information about the islands also frequently pulled from Spanish and elite Filipino sources. Unsurprisingly, this information often reinforced colonial racial hierarchies. In the late nineteenth century, Spanish colonial rule was increasingly predicated on the racial inferiority of Filipinos, who were depicted as uncivilized, childish, and lazy.47 Despite the use of Spanish discourse and information, educational officials and teachers also tended to blame the Spanish for failing to uplift and civilize Filipinos. The Bureau of Public Instruction often held up the example of Spanish education to distinguish itself from the previous

44

45 46 47

Raíces Españolas del Estado Colonial Esta Dounidense en Filipinas,” in Filipinas, Un País Entre Dos Imperios, ed. María Dolores Elizalde and Josep M. Delgado (Barcelona: Bellaterra Edicions, 2011). Andrew W. Cain, “The Evolution of the Filipino Teacher,” 83, vol. 4, box 5, Walter W. Marquardt Papers [hereafter Marquardt Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Theophilus G. Steward, journal entry, December 5, 1899, reel 4, Theophilus G. Steward Papers [hereafter Steward Papers], Schomburg Library. Walter W. Marquardt, “Philippine Primary Schools,” 3–4, folder 1, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 28; and “Lands Held for Ecclesiastical or Religious Uses in the Philippines,” in Report from the Secretary of War to the President, transmitted to Senate, Senate Doc No. 190, 36th Congress, 2nd session, in folder 15, box 1, Harry and Mary Cole Papers [hereafter Cole Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

Introduction

21

regime. A report by Mason S. Stone, the division superintendent for Negros, described the schools, especially those for girls, as held in inadequate spaces (often private homes), lacking in supplies, and staffed by teachers who were devoted but untrained, and who failed to understand “that observation, thinking, reasoning and concluding, are preferable to parrotism.”48 Filipino teachers hired by the American regime but trained under the Spanish quickly realized that they were expected to adjust to American standards. This meant learning to speak a new language, adopting a different pedagogy, and abandoning practices that had been de rigueur. Most colonial officials espoused a heroic, exceptionalist narrative of the American educational mission.49 This myth-making began almost immediately. Traveling to the Philippines on the Thomas, journalist Adeline Knapp penned a glowing tribute to the teachers’ purpose, declaring that there existed in the Philippines “no already established body of native teachers,” prompting the American government, in a move unprecedented “in the history of the world,” to “send out an army, not of conquest, but of education.”50 While in theory officials wanted colonial education to be thoroughly American in style, by importing American teachers, using American books, and building American schools, the exigencies of speedily constructing colonial institutions made it necessary to utilize existing structures and personnel. In addition, the earliest years of public education were also its peak in terms of number of American teachers. Especially after 1912, with the election of Woodrow Wilson and the inauguration of Francis B. Harrison as Governor-General, the colonial government embraced a policy of Filipinization, replacing Americans with Filipinos where possible. The system of public education was run, therefore, by a steadily decreasing number of Americans. Coinciding with an increasingly organized and vocal independence movement, Filipino students and teachers used the rhetoric of colonial education to push for greater autonomy, in the schools and in the government. Finally, colonial

48

49

50

“Report of the General Superintendent of Public Instruction to the Secretary of Public Instruction for the Period From May 27, 1901, to October 1, 1901,” in Annual School Reports, 1901–1905 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1954), 9. Fred Atkinson, at least, noted that there had been a limited system of public instruction under the Spanish, something that other officials did not always acknowledge. Atkinson, “The Educational Problem in the Philippines,” 360. Knapp, “A Notable Educational Expedition,” 11–12.

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officials were forced to address the desires and opinions of Filipinos regarding education. Elite Filipinos, especially, had a greater voice in the implementation of colonial education in many respects than did Native Americans or African Americans, due to the desire to secure collaboration with the colonial state.51

  This book is composed of seven central chapters. Chapter One examines the ways in which American teachers headed to the Philippines created a catalog of colonial knowledge. Drawing on government reports, exhibitions, travelogues, newspaper accounts, and their experiences traveling to the islands, teachers imagined what the islands and their positions would be like. Once they arrived, teachers were confronted at times with conditions that were starkly different from what they had expected. Some teachers responded to these disappointments by attempting to contribute to the catalog of colonial knowledge, writing letters and articles for periodicals back home. Teachers quickly discovered, however, that the Bureau of Education would not allow any public criticism of the military or colonial state. In 1903, teachers were folded into the civil service, formalizing the appointment process. Chapter Two focuses on the establishment of this infrastructure, and the debates between the colonial state and the Bureau of Insular Affairs over how to classify and value teachers and whether to appoint women and African Americans. These discussions revolved around notions of what fitness for colonial service meant, and an attempt to define the ideal colonial teacher. Despite limitations, white women and black men and women managed to find positions in empire. Civil service regulations also created stark divisions along the lines of nationality. Americans and Filipinos were classified separately, with the former earning dramatically higher salaries. Filipinos attempted

51

This was largely a result of the colonial state’s desire for elite Filipinos to collaborate with its projects, including education, as part of the depiction of empire as benevolent. One example of this influence, as discussed in Chapter One, was the prohibition on teaching religion in schools and on teachers using their positions to proselytize. Even local communities could make their voices heard on issues that were important to them. Teachers often complained that they were thwarted in some object, whether coeducation or discipline, because it was not the “costumbre.”

Introduction

23

to push back against these distinctions, which became harder to defend as time went on. Chapter Three investigates the ways American teachers presented themselves, the types of identities they constructed, and the roles they wanted to play. In order to claim authority and to take advantage of the opportunities of empire, teachers at various times appealed to race, gender, class, and nationality to present themselves as the best fitted for colonial life. While all teachers presented themselves as both imperial professionals and colonial pioneers, white teachers were particularly invested in tapping into frontier narratives and living the strenuous life. Black teachers also engaged with these tropes, though more often they used their official positions within empire to claim an American identity and to argue that they were agents of civilization and uplift. While teachers’ imperial visions often confounded the expectations of the colonial state, teachers’ own desires were often frustrated by a failure to take into account local expectations. Even as Americans used notions of race to make claims about fitness, however, this category was evolving in the context of empire. Chapter Four is centered on changing definitions of whiteness and blackness in the colonial Philippines. In response to Philippine racial hierarchies and the dynamic of colonial governance, American definitions of whiteness were broadened to include those whose racial categorization would have been questionable in the United States. It also was easier for black teachers to pass as white in the Philippines, as their claims to privilege were bolstered by other markers of identity. At the same time, ideas about blackness and color were also in flux. While some white Americans tried, it was not possible to impose Jim Crow in the islands. At the same time, many black Americans broadened their perspectives on race, articulating notions of a race of color that linked African Americans and Filipinos in a global struggle against white supremacy. Chapter Five examines how the schools in the Philippines actually functioned, early pedagogical methods, the debate over providing a classical or vocational education, and changes in the educational system over time. Teachers attempted to Americanize their pupils, often focusing on their bodies and comportment as physical manifestations of reform. The focus on industrial education and labor, moreover, was an attempt to push Filipinos to accept American visions of their aptitude and natural level in colonial society. The education provided in colonial schools was

24

Educating the Empire

both political and deeply fraught, revealing tensions in the attempts to define the colonial relationship. Even as teachers attempted to remake their charges, students pushed back against negative assessments of their capacity. Colonial officials expected American teachers to be social emissaries: to persuade Filipinos to support the schools and by extension, the colonial project itself. At the same time, officials warned teachers to steer clear of becoming involved in political or religious issues. Chapter Six interrogates the ways in which teachers acted as political intermediaries, and the ways that the political and the social became bound up together in relations between American teachers and Filipino communities. As representatives of the colonial state, everything teachers did was viewed through the lens of empire. In this context, politics was personal and the personal was political. Chapter Seven explores the politics of the schoolhouse and student protest. The Filipino students and teachers who came into daily contact with the Thomasites were also engaged in constructing their own understandings of empire and their place within it. Students launched strikes over the course of the colonial period, in order to push back against the bigoted behavior and speech of individual American teachers. As time went on, students increasingly linked personal and national dignity, and protested to defend both individuals and the entire race against the accusations of racial inferiority. Especially in the context of the early 1930s, student strikes were viewed through the lens of colonial politics and the push for independence. When students launched strikes to protest the behavior or pronouncements of their teachers, the Bureau of Education labeled these strikes “illegal” and outside of the accepted avenues of redress, just as Filipinos who resorted to active resistance to American authority were branded “outlaws” by the colonial state. Both the colonial state and the Bureau of Education took steps to minimize such resistance, though the terms of colonial education and colonization were constantly being renegotiated at all levels, and students were able to force some reforms through collective action. The way the colonial state actually functioned was often starkly different from what colonial officials had envisioned. At its heart, this book investigates why that was, examining the myriad visions of empire that coopted, circumvented, and challenged the narrative of the American authorities in Manila and influenced the development of the colonial state. American teachers and schools were at the heart of this process. As imperial mediators, they negotiated with both state officials and people on the ground

Introduction

25

 .. Map of the Philippine Islands (UA Cartographic Research Lab)

to enact a colonialism shaped by multiple and conflicting impulses and intentions. The daily interactions and encounters between American teachers and government officials and Filipino students, teachers, and community members reveal the ways in which a variety of actors asserted and negotiated their own understandings of colonial governance in the Philippines.

1 Creating a Catalog of Colonial Knowledge

Leaving his home in New York in July 1901, Benjamin E. Neal began a long journey west that would end in a small town in central Luzon, the main island of the Philippines. A newly appointed teacher in the colonial school system, Neal stopped off in Buffalo to see the Pan-American Exposition on July 15, and visited the Filipino Village that was part of the Midway attractions. Taking a special interest in the children who were part of the exhibit, he noted that they seemed “extremely bright and active.”1 After traveling across the country by train, Neal reached San Francisco on the 20th, where he visited Chinatown and saw “opium dens – Josh houses – stores – theatres, drug dens, etc.”2 Both legs of this excursion were early steps in Neal’s psychological preparation for teaching. Situated among the broad swath of humanity represented on the Midway, the Filipino Village was, of course, a fabricated reality, focused on portraying the picturesque and unfamiliar. Still, it was the first chance most Americans had had to examine the denizens of America’s newest colonial possession in person, and Neal was naturally anxious to catch a glimpse of some of his new charges.3 During this time period, moreover, periodicals, travelogues, and missionary accounts depicted Chinatowns as exotic foreign spaces within the 1 2 3

Benjamin E. Neal, diary entry, July 15, 1901, folder 5, Benjamin E. Neal Papers [hereafter Neal Papers], Special Collections Research Center, Syracuse University Library. Neal, diary entry, July 20, 1901, folder 5, Neal Papers. Neal meant “joss” houses, which were places of worship. For an in-depth examination of world’s fairs, race, and empire, see Robert W. Rydell, All the World’s a Fair: Visions of Empire at American International Expositions, 1876–1916 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984).

26

Creating a Catalog of Colonial Knowledge

27

nation, belonging to an essentialized Oriental Other. Americans at the turn of the twentieth century had long viewed Chinatowns as sites of both potential danger and voyeuristic pleasure.4 For teachers headed to Asia, most for the first time, touring San Francisco’s Chinatown took on added meaning. Visits to Chinatown were, in this context, a first step on a long journey to, in the words of Theodore Roosevelt, “that furthest West, which is the immemorial East.”5 American teachers en route to the Philippines all engaged in some version of this process of building a catalog of colonial knowledge. Many teachers sought information about America’s new colonies by reading official reports and attending educational lectures. Yet they also drew upon popular sources of information, including the portrayal of these colonies in the press, travelogues, exhibitions at world’s fairs, stories from fellow imperial travelers, and even the presence of seemingly foreign populations within domestic borders. Just as colonial officials drew on domestic examples of colonial education, the American teachers traveling to the Philippines constructed their colonial expectations based on a variety of sources. Teachers then compared these ideas with their early experiences in the islands, and attempted to contribute to the narrative of colonial education and state-building, at times to the consternation of officials in Manila.

     Well before the arrival of American teachers in the islands, US Army officers began reopening schools that had been closed because of the war, seeing education as a tool of pacification. The first school was opened on Corregidor, an island in the mouth of Manila Bay, mere weeks after Dewey’s victory. Soon after the American occupation of Manila began in September 1898, Father William D. McKinnon, an army chaplain, supervised the opening of several more schools, all of which were provided with an American soldier to teach English.6 In March 1900, the army’s role in education was formalized with the creation of a Bureau of 4 5

6

For more on depictions of Chinatowns, see Nyan Shah, Contagious Divides: Epidemics and Race in San Francisco’s Chinatown (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001). Theodore Roosevelt, “Address at Waukesha, Wisconsin, April 3, 1903,” Addresses and Presidential Messages of Theodore Roosevelt, 1902–1904 (New York: G. P. Putman’s Sons, 1904), 124. Peter J. Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites: American School Teachers in Philippine Colonial Society, 1901–1913” (PhD diss., Cornell University, 2006), 127.

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Public Instruction. General Elwell S. Otis, the Military Governor of the islands, named Captain Albert Todd the head of the new department, and authorized departmental commanders to detail officers to open schools in the provinces. Todd sent questionnaires on educational work to the departmental commanders, and while only about half responded, those who did reported that a thousand schools were in operation, with an enrollment of about 100,000 children.7 Both white and black soldiers were given positions as teachers during military rule in the islands. Theophilus Gould Steward, the chaplain of the 25th Infantry, a black regiment, was appointed the military superintendent of education for Zambales province, where his regiment was stationed. Beginning his work in November 1899, Steward noted that the “work of Americanizing the schools was therefore begun and was well under way before the civil educational agents were on the ground.”8 As part of his duties, Steward worked with the ex-governor of the province (who had been the governor under Spanish rule), with officials in each town, and with those who had been teachers under the Spanish school system, to reopen the schools. Steward also met with officials and members of each community he visited to convince the town that American intentions were benevolent, to explain the plan for opening the schools, and to make an argument for the “importance of studying English.”9 Once schools were reopened, Steward traveled the province inspecting the teachers and their students. The result of the work of Steward and others was that by the time the first civilian teachers arrived many of the schools had already reopened, even though many of them continued to operate in Spanish and according to Spanish pedagogy. With the transition to a civilian government, a number of soldiers chose to muster out of the military and apply for positions as teachers.10

7 8 9

10

Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites,” 131–2. Theophilus Gould Steward, Fifty Years in the Gospel Ministry (Philadelphia: A.M.E. Book Concern, 1921), 318–19. Steward, journal entry, November 22, 1899, reel 4, Theophilus Gould Steward Papers [hereafter Steward Papers], Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture. Also see Steward, Fifty Years in the Gospel Ministry, 318–34. Moses Flint, Louis H. Lisk, Bedford B. Hunter, George T. Shoens, and Russell Trace all wrote to Frank Crone in 1913 about their transition from soldiers to schoolteachers. See “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” vol. 2, box 6, Walter W. Marquardt Papers [hereafter Marquardt Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. William A. Caldwell was also a soldier in the Philippines before being appointed as a teacher. See 1900 United States Federal Census, Pracoor Philippine Islands, Military and Naval Forces, Roll 1839, Page 2A, Ancestry.com.

Creating a Catalog of Colonial Knowledge

29

Bedford B. Hunter, who served with the 23rd Kansas Volunteer Regiment in Cuba, went to the Philippines as a member of the 49th Volunteer Infantry Regiment in 1900.11 In 1901, Hunter took the examination to become a teacher, and was appointed to Iguig, in Cagayan province. By 1906, he had been promoted to supervising teacher.12

“   ” In January 1901, the Philippine Commission passed Act 74, establishing a civilian-led Bureau of Public Instruction and creating a centralized system of public schools divided into ten divisions, to be overseen by division superintendents. The act authorized Fred Atkinson, the first General Superintendent of Public Instruction, to hire one thousand American teachers. It also allowed division superintendents to hire Filipino teachers, whose salaries would be paid for by municipal governments, which would also be responsible for building and maintaining schoolhouses. The insular government committed to covering the transportation and salaries of the American teachers, as well as purchasing textbooks, and opening and running normal, agricultural, and trade schools.13 The American teachers would be paid between $900 and $1,500 per year, though the majority were paid between $900 and $1,200 – a better salary than most teachers could expect to earn in the United States.14 As will be discussed more fully in Chapter 3, teachers anticipated numerous personal advantages from going abroad to teach, including the opportunity to earn a substantial salary, to travel around the world, and to reinvent themselves as imperial adventurers.

11 12 13

14

“He Likes the Philippines!,” Topeka Plaindealer, June 2, 1905, 1. Official Roster of the Bureau of Education, Corrected to March 1, 1906 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1905), 9. Glenn A. May, Social Engineering: The Aims, Execution and Impact of American Colonial Policy, 1900–1913 (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1980), 81. As it was discovered that ten division superintendents could not effectively supervise all of the public schools in the islands, the number of divisions was raised to eighteen, and eventually, thirty-six. According to the annual report of the Commissioner of Education for 1900–1, the average monthly salary for teachers was about forty-seven dollars for male teachers and thirty-nine dollars for female teachers. “Report of the Commissioner for Education,” in Annual Reports of the Department of the Interior for the Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1901, vol. 1 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1902) LXXXV. This changed by the First World War, as noted in Chapter 2, when the Bureau of Education began having difficulty attracting teachers at the salaries offered.

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The language of instruction would be English. This decision was a marked departure from European colonial practice in Asia, where fluency in Western languages was restricted to a small, elite class.15 The choice of English as the language of instruction was a conscious political decision. Instruction in English was “central to the metaphor of colonialism as tutelage,” as language itself was invested with the transformative power of uplift.16 Educational officials also argued for English instruction in order to unite the islands under a common tongue as Spanish, unlike in Puerto Rico or Cuba, was spoken only by an educated elite, while the majority spoke a variety of other languages and dialects. Perhaps the most controversial decree of Act 74 related to religion. Section 16 of the act forbade teachers from teaching or criticizing “the doctrines of any church, religious sect or denomination,” or attempting to “influence the pupils for or against any church or religious sect in any public school established under this act.” Any teacher found violating this provision would be dismissed.17 This section had more to do with Catholic political influence in the United States than with concern for respecting religion in the Philippines. Catholic leaders at home worried that the US government would use its power to promote Protestantism. These fears were not entirely unreasonable, given William McKinley’s private declaration that God had directed him to “uplift and civilize and Christianize” the Filipinos.18 Catholics in the US were particularly wary of the system of public education being created in the Philippines, especially after a series of alarmist articles came out in Catholic newspapers and journals alleging that school teachers were using their positions to proselytize, and that some officials in the Bureau of Public Instruction were secretly pastors.19 As a result of the political pressure brought to bear on the 15 16 17 18 19

May, Social Engineering, 83. Paul A. Kramer, The Blood of Government: Race, Empire, the United States, and the Philippines (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 203–4. Public Laws and Resolutions Passed by the United States Philippine Commission, vol. 1 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1901), 126. James Rusling, “Interview with President William McKinley,” The Christian Advocate, January 22, 1903. Judith Raftery, “Textbook Wars: Governor-General James Francis Smith and the Protestant-Catholic Conflict in Public Education in the Philippines, 1904–1907,” History of Education Quarterly 38, no. 2 (Summer 1998): 143, 150–1; and “Memorandum on Letter from Henry M. Hoyt,” July 24, 1901, in folder 3263, box 330, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park, Maryland. For more on the political ramifications of allegations of teachers proselytizing, see folder 1534, box 201, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA; and Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites,” 168–72.

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government, the Bureau of Public Instruction reached out to representatives of the Catholic Church in the US in the fall of 1901, asking them to compile lists of Catholic teachers who would be willing to teach in the Philippines.20 By the end of 1902, 200 Catholic teachers had been appointed.21 Responsible for finding one thousand suitable teachers, Atkinson personally selected about half of the teachers. He empowered presidents of normal schools and colleges across the US, as well as some state superintendents of education, to appoint the other half.22 Atkinson began appointing teachers well before the 1901 passage of Act 74: the Kansas City Star declared in August 1900 that some of the first teachers for the Philippines had been appointed.23 While most of the teachers were appointed in the US, a small number of those hired were already living in the Philippines, including some discharged soldiers and the wives or relatives of civilians and military officers.24 Some of the teachers hired in the US declined the appointment for various reasons, while some of the educational institutions empowered to choose teachers neglected to do so. As a result, Atkinson did not reach his established quota of one thousand teachers. Between January 1901 and September 1902, 1,074 teachers were connected with the Bureau of Education in Manila, though the highest number on the employment roll at any one time was 926 teachers in May 1902. There were also 2,700 Filipinos hired as teachers and paid by municipal governments, and so records of their employment were not maintained by the insular government.25 Once they received their appointment, teachers were wired the date of their departure. Having hired hundreds of American teachers, the War Department then faced the logistical challenge of transporting such a large number of pedagogues to the Philippines. Army transports traveled

20

21 22

23 24

25

“Report of the General Superintendent of Public Instruction to the Secretary of Public Instruction for the Period From May 27, 1901, to October 1, 1902,” in Annual School Reports, 1901–1905 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1954), 143. Raftery, “Textbook Wars,” 151. The Philippine Commission, in one of its first legislative actions in September of 1900, established a civil service board to govern insular and provincial appointments. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 166. Teachers were not required to take civil service exams to qualify for appointments until 1903, as will be discussed in Chapter 2. “American Teachers for the Philippines,” The Kansas City Star, August 15, 1900, 10. US War Department. Bureau of Insular Affairs, Official Handbook: Description of the Philippines, Part I, Compiled in the Bureau of Insular Affairs, War Department, Washington, DC (Manila: Bureau of Public Printing, 1903), 217. Fred Atkinson, “Report of the General Superintendent of Education for the Year Ending September 1, 1902,” in Annual School Reports, 1901–1905, 142–4.

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between San Francisco and Manila twice each month, but often could not carry many teachers at once, owing to the need to transport military officials and soldiers, as well as civilian professionals, including engineers. Although small numbers of teachers began to depart for the Philippines on the regularly scheduled transports as early as June 1901, the Bureau of Insular Affairs (BIA) made plans to convey over half of the teachers on the US Army Transport Thomas, which left San Francisco in July and arrived in Manila in late August.26 The teachers headed to the Philippines were, for the most part, young and well educated, often recent college graduates. Almost all of the teachers on the Thomas had degrees from normal schools or colleges. Of the 509 teachers listed in The Log of the Thomas, only a third had over five years of teaching experience. Over 40 percent of the teachers had less than two years of teaching experience; 20 percent had none at all.27 They came from all over the country, including forty-three out of the forty-five states, as well as Washington, DC. There were even a few teachers who came from Hawaii, Nova Scotia, and Turkey, though most of these men and women originally hailed from the continental US and had traveled abroad to teach. The states that sent the largest contingents of teachers were New York, with sixty-three, California, with forty-one, Massachusetts, with thirty-five, and Michigan, with thirty.28 Though most of the teachers were single, some married couples did come to the Philippines: Mary and Harry Cole, both graduates of the University of Michigan, and Herbert and Bess Priestley, of California,

26

27

28

For files relating to the transport of teachers to the Philippines, see folder 2717, box 274, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Smaller numbers of teachers were transported to the Philippines on a variety of ships, including the Buford, the McClellan, and the Sheridan. May, Social Engineering, 85. This was contrary to the impressions of Blaine Free Moore, who noted in his diary that the majority of the teachers were “not fresh from college or normal schools as I supposed they would be,” but had “considerable teaching experience.” However, Moore himself acknowledged that he had as yet “become acquainted with but few of the passengers.” Blaine Free Moore, diary entry, July 25, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Blaine Free Moore Papers [hereafter Moore Papers], Library of Congress, Washington, DC. Ronald P. Gleason, ed., The Log of the Thomas (Manila: N.A., 1901). The teachers coming from Hawaii and Turkey, at least, were American citizens. It is not clear if the teacher from Nova Scotia, Bradford K. Daniels, was actually a Canadian, though Bernard Moses thought he was. Moses, diary entry, December 20, 1901, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 7. In The Log of the Thomas, Daniels is listed as being from Massachusetts, and being a graduate of Harvard University, though “Acadia” appears next to his name, after “Cambridge.” Gleason, ed., The Log of the Thomas, 66.

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came to the islands together with joint appointments. Most of the female teachers in the early colonial period, however, were single. Of the over 500 teachers who were included in the list of teachers in The Log of the Thomas, over one-third were women. Of those women, only about a quarter were married women traveling to the islands with their husbands.29 Mary H. Fee, of Missouri, and Philinda Parsons Rand and Margaret Purcell, of Massachusetts, who sailed to the Philippines on the USAT Buford, were single women, though Rand eventually married Theodosius Anglemyer, another teacher. While diversity was not a marked feature of those selected to teach, a small number of African Americans, at least eleven men and three women, were appointed as teachers, though there were almost certainly more.30 All but two were from the South. There were at least two discharged soldiers among them; those appointed in the US seem to all have had college degrees and experience teaching. In addition, black 29 30

Gleason, ed., The Log of the Thomas, 61–75. While the BIA did not keep track of the race of its employees, the confirmed black teachers include: Frederick Douglas Bonner, Charlotte Drucilla Stokes Bonner, John Henry Manning Butler, James F. Hart, William H. Holder, Thomas Shaffer, William A. Caldwell, Bedford B. Hunter, Jesse Walker Ratcliffe, Gustavus A. Steward, and Carter G. Woodson. Gustavus Steward, the son of Theophilus G. Steward, apparently taught in Agno, Zambales, where his father was stationed. He only appears on the employment roster for 1902. I have also found references to two more African American women teachers, Mary E. Dickerson and May Fitzbutler. I have only been able to find Charlotte Bonner on the rosters of teachers employed by the insular government, however, and there is little information available about her life. May Fitzbutler was Myra Fitzbutler Vincent, the sister of Dr. James H. Fitzbutler, who came to the Philippines to join his sister. I have not been able to verify that Fitzbutler or Dickerson were ever employed by the Bureau of Education in the Philippines. This may be because they were not insular teachers, but were hired by the municipalities in which they taught, or because they taught in a nongovernment school, or for such a short period of time that they were not included in official rosters. With the exception of Fred Bonner, who was the first black teacher appointed, the BIA did not keep records of teachers’ races, which makes identifying additional black teachers difficult. For the names of black teachers in the Philippines, see Carter G. Woodson, “John Henry Manning Butler,” The Journal of Negro History 30, no. 2 (April 1945): 243–4; “Thompson’s Weekly Review,” Indianapolis Freeman, October 27, 1906, 1; T. Thomas Fortune, “The Filipino: Some Incidents of a Trip through the Island of Luzon,” Voice of the Negro 1, no. 6 (June 1904): 245; “Filipino Girls Not Flirts, But Bosses of Men,” Chicago Defender, May 12, 1923, 13–15; Catalogue of Fisk University, 1907–8 (Nashville: Fisk University, 1908), 88; Steward, Fifty Years in the Gospel Ministry, 317; William Seraile, Voice of Dissent: Theophilus Gould Steward (1843–1924) and Black America (New York: Carlson Publishing Inc., 1991), 142; and Thomas Yenser, ed., Who’s Who in Colored America: A Biographical Dictionary of Notable Living Persons of African Descent in America, third ed. (Brooklyn: Thomas Yenser, 1932), 43.

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teachers seem to have stayed longer in the islands, on average, than did white teachers. Most stayed longer than five years, and several spent the rest of their lives in the Philippines. Only a few of these teachers, however, left behind records of their experiences there. Of all the black teachers appointed to the Philippines, Carter G. Woodson certainly became the most famous, going on to found the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History, and becoming known as the Father of Black History. Given the rhetoric of white supremacy that suffused the ideological underpinnings of American colonization, the hiring of any black teachers to represent and propagate American civilization is remarkable.

     The teachers’ journey to the Philippines was a complex mixture of enjoyment and preparation. From the moment they received their assignments (indeed, arguably from the moment they chose to apply for a position in the islands), teachers began, as Neal did, to prepare themselves for their journey by building a catalog of information about the Philippines and the colonial project. Informed by articles in newspapers and periodicals, government reports, stories from acquaintances who had been in the islands, travel writing, colonial and racial fiction, and their own visits to domestic “colonies” (like San Francisco’s Chinatown) and domesticated foreign spaces (especially Hawaii), this archive of colonial knowledge enabled teachers to build a universe of expectations about what their own experience of empire would be like. Most Americans knew very little about the Philippines at the end of the nineteenth century. As satirist Finley Peter Dunne’s character Mr. Dooley put it to Mr. Hennessey, “tis not more thin two months since ye larned whether they were islands or canned goods.”31 US military and colonial officials quickly began to gather information, reading Spanish records, interviewing Filipino elites, and touring the new colony. This process of knowledge production in order to pacify and administer the islands more successfully, and particularly the production of published reports of the Philippine Commission and the orientations provided by the colonial government, would become an important source of information for the new teachers. 31

Finley Peter Dunne, “On the Philippines,” Mr. Dooley in Peace and War (Boston, MA: Small, Maynard and Company, 1899), 43.

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The American teachers appointed to the Philippine Service recognized their own ignorance and strove to rectify it in a number of ways. Herbert D. Fisher recalled that he was so ashamed of bringing a pair of ice skates with him on the transport that he smuggled them from his luggage and dropped them in the ocean.32 This was a fairly extreme display of unfamiliarity with the Philippines. While most teachers had a basic grasp of the environment that they were about to encounter (enough to leave behind winter sporting goods), the eagerness with which they sought information that might prepare them for their experience demonstrates their own sense of ignorance about America’s newest colony and their place within it. Nearly all of the early teachers traveled to San Francisco to embark for the Philippines. Once they arrived in that city, many of the teachers, like Benjamin Neal, sought out Chinatown, the infamous representation of a foreign space within the nation. They descended upon it, expecting to see evidence of the vices that received so much attention in the press. John D. DeHuff reported that he and some other teachers hired a guide to tour the neighborhood. The group toured a drugstore, a restaurant, a theater, and an opium den, and saw things “among both Chinese and Americans” that DeHuff had “never even dreamed could exist.”33 Not all of the teachers were so satisfied with their voyeurism. Both Walter W. Marquardt and Philinda Parsons Rand recorded disappointment with their excursion. Rand noted that she and Margaret Purcell, another teacher, went to Chinatown but did not “know where to go and the proper time to see it is at night.”34 Marquardt also made the mistake of visiting Chinatown without a guide, though he went at night, and got to witness the smoking of opium. He had “expected to find a far tougher place,” however, and declared his intention to find a “licensed guide” to “see the worst opium joints.”35 It is possible that so many teachers visited Chinatown simply because of its status as an exotic and foreign space 32

33

34 35

Herbert D. Fisher, Philippine Diary (New York: Vantage Press, 2005), 39–40. It is of course possible that Fisher exaggerated, or even made up, this story to highlight his own ignorance. John D. DeHuff, diary entry, July 22, 1901, diary 1, box 5, Elizabeth Willis DeHuff Papers [hereafter Willis DeHuff Papers], Center for Southwest Research, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque. Philinda Rand, letter to Dear Girls, July 1901, folder 8, Philinda Rand Anglemyer Papers [hereafter Rand Anglemyer Papers], Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute. Marquardt, letter, May 30, 1901, vol. 2, box 7, Marquardt Papers. The fact that there were “licensed guides” for touring the seedy side of Chinatown highlights the voyeuristic appeal of a space configured as foreign territory within the nation.

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within the US. However, it seems likely that the teachers were drawn to Chinatown not merely as a tourist destination but as another step in their self-preparation for the journey to the Orient.36 Visiting sites of exoticized tourism was only one source for teachers creating a colonial knowledge base. While sailing to the Philippines, new teachers learned from their fellow passengers, often ex-soldiers or military officers, particularly those who had been in Asia already. Ralph Kent Buckland, who traveled to the islands in 1903 on the Doric, recalled one fellow passenger, a doctor, who had a “remarkable” way of ordering things from the Chinese stewards: “He would say: ‘Now, Charlie’ (our stewards were all either Charlie or John), ‘you catchy me some fish,’ or, ‘You hook me a hunk of bread.’” Buckland noted that he soon picked up “the Americanized way of addressing Oriental servants.”37 American teachers observed modes of behavior toward Asians before they ever arrived in the islands, and mimicked the habits they saw. In this sense, the entirety of the teachers’ experiences in traveling to the islands – including socializing, networking, reading, lectures, and entertainments – were all part of a larger process of knowledge production. The experience of traveling to the Philippines, in all its varied forms, contributed not only to building teachers’ expectations of what they would find; it also prepared them to enter an imperial space as part of a colonizing force. Once aboard their transports, the teachers immediately began planning entertainments and making connections. For those traveling with only a few other teachers, entertainments were largely confined to chatting with the teachers, officers, and officers’ wives on board, though Philinda Rand noted that some of the female teachers on the Buford had made bags with rice in them to throw for exercise.38 The teachers who traveled on the Thomas, however, had a much wider range of social activities. Harry and Mary Cole reported that there was a variety of entertainments on board, including a dance, performances by teachers and sailors, minstrel songs sung in blackface, and an all-male comedic mock trial of a breach-ofpromise case, all of which were “very enthusiastically received.”39 36

37 38 39

Nyan Shah argues that Chinatown was a site of “imperial domesticity,” in which white, middle-class women attempted to “manage and reform the ‘foreign’ within the nation” (Shah, Contagious Divides, 106–7). Ralph Kent Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino (New York, NY: Everywhere Publishing Company, 1912), 7. Rand, diary entry, July 15, 1901, folder 15, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Harry Cole, letter to Mother, July 29, 1901, folder 1, and Mary Cole, letter to Dear Folks, August 4, 1901, folder 2, box 1, Harry and Mary Cole Papers [hereafter Cole Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Harry Cole spelled his own

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The type of social activities shocked some of the teachers. Blaine Free Moore declared that the mock trial was “coarse,” and that there were some people aboard who could “see nothing funny unless it approach the vulgar.”40 Herbert Ingram Priestley labeled the majority of male teachers “ill-mannered young college men from the east who are adventurers,” and the female teachers “vain, pampered would-be society belles.” There were some excellent people on board, Priestley noted, mostly toward the back of the boat, while the “hoodlums” were at the front, along with a few women who passed the time by “flirting with the officers in great style.”41 The diary of Benjamin E. Neal illustrates how the quotidian activities on board the Thomas, from education to entertainment, all contributed to building a catalog of colonial knowledge – a framework that would inform the way teachers understood their experiences in the Philippines. Over the span of one week, Neal attended a “vaudeville show” consisting of performances by teachers and sailors, read a book about Hawaiian history as well as a Philippine Commission report, attended educational lectures, studied Spanish, sang songs with other members of the Beta Theta Pi fraternity, and attended a dance. The show on August 7 included a selection of “Hawaiian songs” sung by Miss J. Maud Chase, a teacher who had been in Hawaii for six years, as well as the minstrel song, “I’ve Got a White Man Working for Me.” D. P. Sullivan, another teacher, performed a seasickness parody of the minstrel song “Just Because She Made Dem Goo Goo Eyes.” The educational lectures included a talk by Perry and Nina Sargent on their work in Indian schools and one by Harry S. Townsend, who had been a school superintendent in Honolulu.42 The reference to the experiences of teachers in Indian schools and in Hawaii linked the present imperial mission with older efforts to Americanize nonwhite colonized populations. Even with the entertainments, such as the singing of minstrel songs, teachers reinforced white supremacy and prepared to encounter and understand their new charges under the terms of American racial hierarchy.

40 41

42

name “Harrie,” and Mary seemed to vacillate between “Harry” and “Harrie.” The collection of papers written by the Coles and archived by the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, is titled the “Harry and Mary Cole” papers. I have therefore decided to spell his name with a “y,” in order to avoid confusion. Moore, diary entry, August 10, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Moore Papers. Herbert Ingram Priestley, letter to Mother, August 16, 1901, Herbert Ingram Priestley Letters, 1901–4 [hereafter Priestley Letters], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Neal, diary entries, August 7, August 10, and August 14, 1901, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers. For more information on the voyage of the Thomas, see Gleason, ed., The Log of the Thomas.

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Black teachers were also engaged in constructing a catalog of colonial knowledge, though they did not ground that discourse in white supremacy. John Henry Manning Butler, from North Carolina, recalled socializing on the USAT McClellan en route to the Philippines, including studying Spanish, prayer meetings, and literary programs.43 While stopping off in Gibraltar, he also used the visit to draw imperial distinctions on the grounds of religion and sanitation. Noting that Gibraltar, an English possession, was clean and well-kept and that Linea, a nearby Spanish town, was filthy, Butler declared that this was a demonstration of “Protestant and Catholic influence in contrast.” He concluded that if Linea was a representative Spanish town, it was a good thing that “America has taken charge of the insular possessions.”44 The teachers tended to compare the new peoples they met with races with which they were already familiar, most often African Americans. Upon seeing portraits of the Hawaiian royal family while visiting Iolani Palace in Honolulu, teacher Ralph K. Buckland declared that they “looked a coarse, dark-skinned, broad-nosed, greasy set, and the massive gilt moldings framing each painting made them all look cheap, like Chicago negroes.”45 Blaine Free Moore, on the other hand, found Hawaiian teachers preferable to the first Filipino teachers he met in Manila, declaring the latter to be “not nearly so clever, well educated or intelligent” as the former, though he did allow that “they appeared at a disadvantage because they couldn’t talk English,” and were “very neatly dressed.”46 Other teachers were more favorably impressed by their first impressions of Filipinos. When Mary Cole first arrived in the Philippines, she wrote home that the people were “a very bright intelligent race and nothing like the negro race. They have black straight hair like the Japs.”47 A few weeks

43 44

45 46 47

Butler, “Early Experiences,” p. 236, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Butler, “To the East from the West,” Star of Zion, April 10, 1902, 2. Butler, who had taught at State Normal School in Elizabeth City and at the Agricultural Technical College in Greensboro, was appointed by the Secretary of the Connecticut Board of Education, whom he had met while attending school there. His wife, Fannie Newby Butler, later joined him in the Philippines, though she did not stay in the islands for long. “Prof. J.H.M. Butler, A.M.: A Noted Teacher, Writer, Speaker, and Churchman: Government Position,” Star of Zion, February 6, 1902, 1; Butler, letter to David P. Barrows, September 14, 1909, folder 7843, box 509, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA; Pocahontas Lane, “Butler-Newby,” Star of Zion, January 2, 1902, 3; and Woodson, “John Henry Manning Butler,” 243. Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino, 13. Moore, diary entry, August 26, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Moore Papers. Mary Cole, letter to Dear Folks, August 23, 1901, folder 2, box 1, Cole Papers.

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later, once Mary and her husband, Harry, had reached their new station, Mary again declared that the people of Palo, Leyte, were “much better looking than the negro,” as well as more intelligent and cleaner.48 The teachers’ eagerness to compare African Americans, Hawaiians, and Filipinos reveals an impulse to classify the new peoples they were meeting in order to determine where to place them in an American catalog of racial hierarchy. Even as racial formations were in flux in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Americans tended to understand and portray race as a series of fixed and innate attributes, and all peoples as concretely located at a specific rung of the civilizational ladder. White Americans, both social scientists and private observers, tended to place African Americans and Native Americans at the bottom of the racial hierarchy, and to use them as foils against which to rank other peoples at home and abroad.49 These racial understandings and formations, of course, evolved through the process of empire, just as they were altered by (and influenced) changing articulations of race in the US.50 African American teachers also engaged in this process of racial categorization. In giving his early impressions of Filipinos, T.G. Steward compared them with different racial groups in the US: Filipinos, he declared, were in some instances highly cultivated, and were more practical and industrious than Native Americans, though less practical and industrious than African Americans. They were also, he continued, “more disposed to put on a white shirt and play lord than the Negro,” were “fond of having servants or slaves,” and were “naturally oppressive in their conduct toward those beneath them.”51 Steward cataloged Filipinos, in essence, as between Native Americans and black Americans on the civilizational ladder. Like white observers, too, Steward displayed a tendency to attribute characteristics of Philippine society to innate, natural tendencies, rather than the very different context of the two countries.

48 49

50

51

Mary Cole, letter to Sister, October 3, 1901, folder 3, box 1, Cole Papers. For more on racial formations in the US at the turn of the century, see Matthew Frye Jacobson, Barbarian Virtues: The United States Encounters Foreign Peoples at Home and Abroad, 1876–1917 (New York: Hill and Wang, 2000). Paul Kramer has argued persuasively against adopting either an “export” or “colonial discourse” model of race in empire, noting that both approaches tend to reduce race production to something ahistorical and unchanging. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 19–23. Steward, “The Philippines and Their People,” Christian Recorder, March 2, 1900, 4.

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   From the moment of their arrival in the Philippines, the teachers began to compare their expectations to actual conditions in the islands. As the Thomas steamed past Corregidor Island and into Manila Bay, Benjamin E. Neal noted that he had “read and dreampt [sic]” about the “place made famous by Dewey” but had “never hoped to see it.”52 All of the teachers had imagined clearly defined images of the Philippines, visions formed from the intense focus by newspapers and magazines since the beginning of the war. As Mary H. Fee, originally from Missouri, noted, the teachers “were familiar with the magazine illustrations of the Pasig long before our pedagogic invasion of Manila,” although they were surprised by “the additional charm lent to these familiar views by the play of color.”53 The newly arrived teachers were taken to the Exposition Grounds in Manila, where temporary housing had been set up. While waiting for their assignments, teachers alternated their time between educational lectures on “what to expect in the provinces,” what their duties would be and how to take care of themselves and remain healthy, and shopping trips, touring around the city, and receptions of welcome hosted by American elites.54 Once they arrived in the islands, however, many of the teachers found that their imperial visions did not always match up with the reality of conditions on the ground. Several of the American teachers found the Philippines to be less a land of milk and honey than they had expected. Living expenses were higher than anticipated (partially because American teachers tended, especially during the cholera outbreak of 1902, to consume large quantities of canned goods imported from the US), and they were being paid in Philippine currency (largely Mexican silver coins), which fluctuated in value during the early years of colonization. The teachers who arrived in the late summer of 1901 were assigned to their new stations in early September. Prior to making assignments, the Bureau of Public Instruction had attempted to gather information from district commanders, provincial governors, municipal officials, and

52 53 54

Neal, diary entry, August 21, 1901, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers. Mary H. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines (Chicago: A.C. McClurg & Co., 1910), 45. Euphemia Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” unpublished manuscript, 4–5, Schlesinger Archive, Radcliffe Institute. See also Neal, diary entries, August 27 and 28, 1901, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers.

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division superintendents as to population of towns, the attitude of the people toward education, and which towns were garrisoned and had suitable accommodations for women.55 Fred Atkinson then made the appointments, though division superintendents were able to request specific teachers.56 Most of the teachers, Mary H. Fee reported, had engaged in an enormous “amount of wire-pulling” to get their desired stations, and the disappointment of the unsuccessful “was proportionate.”57 Several of the male teachers, including Blaine Free Moore, expressed the belief that “married men and women as was expected got the best places.”58 The “best” stations, according to popular opinion, were those with prosperous residents and, preferably, an army station. Euphemia (Pattie) Paxton, a teacher in Negros Oriental, noted that Valladolid, the town to which she was transferred in early 1902, was considered to be “one of the more desirable locations for women teachers” because it was an army post and therefore “considered eminently safe and socially desirable.”59 In contrast, Mary Fee noted that one female teacher, who had an M.A. in mathematics and “who was supposed to know more about conic sections than any woman ought to know,” made “little less than a tragedy” of being assigned to teach the Macabebes, “who may in ten generations arrive at an elementary idea of what is meant by conic sections.”60 Not all teachers, however, put a premium on being stationed in the “best” towns. Indeed, some teachers felt pride in their willingness to go to whatever part of the islands they were assigned, and even volunteered for remote stations. Still, many of the teachers found themselves disappointed in their assignments. In his diary, Bernard Moses recorded that a number of teachers came to him complaining that their station was too isolated, or 55

56

57 58 59 60

“Report of the General Superintendent of Public Instruction to the Secretary of Public Instruction for the Period From May 27, 1901, to October 1, 1901,” in Annual School Reports, 1901–1905, 3. Unremarkably, division superintendents seem to have preferred teachers from their area of the country, or those who shared an alma mater or fraternal connection. Blaine Free Moore noted that graduates of the “Eastern colleges such as Yale and Harvard have a decided advantage since most of the division supts are from these schools and naturally feel an interest in the graduates of their alma mater. For instance, the Vermont delegation go as a body to Negros because Supt Stone of that island regarded as one of the best in the group, is from Vermont a graduate of Vermont University” Moore letter to Pa and Ma, August 31, 1901, folder 1, box 1, Moore Papers. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 60. Moore, diary entry, September 2, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Moore Papers. Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 16. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 60.

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else jockeying for more desirable positions. He was surprised that so many teachers, some with impressive degrees, would have come to the Philippines to do what must be essentially basic work for the first few years. Moses assumed that the “disposition to move and wander off to an unknown country has been a powerful motive in causing many of them to break away from their ancient connections and join this company of educational missionaries.”61 After a few weeks of teaching, Harry Cole, stationed in Palo, Leyte, opined that it was ludicrous that the government had recruited only college-educated or experienced teachers, given that the work was basic primary work.62 Many of the teachers also recorded frustration that their professional training was almost entirely unnecessary and inapplicable to their positions as primary teachers. Shortly after receiving their assignments, teachers found to their dismay that they would not have the privilege of buying food from military commissaries in the provinces. This prohibition was a result of conflict between the military and the Philippine Commission, which arose during the transfer from a military to a civilian government. The military seemed to feel that its jurisdiction was being unduly encroached upon, and retaliated in a number of ways, including the denial of commissary privileges to civilians. These commissaries were the only way to obtain imported goods in many parts of the Philippines, and restricting access to them would prevent teachers from obtaining the canned goods that they had depended on to supplement their diets. In addition, teachers were not allowed to board in the soldiers’ or officers’ mess.63 This episode both highlights the ways in which the colonial state was neither unified nor coherent and demonstrates how the catalog of colonial knowledge could function. Teachers were so upset by this turn of events because they had adopted the belief of the Bureau of Public Instruction that eating Filipino food would be unhealthy or dangerous.64 Herbert Ingram Priestley and his wife, Bess, hoped to be able to buy commissary goods “on the sly,” since it “would be impossible to sustain life” on “native food,” which was “unwholesome” and “not of a kind or quality 61 62 63 64

Moses, diary entries, August 24 and 27, 1901, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 5. Harry Cole letter to Leon, October 27, 1901, folder 3, box 1, Cole Papers. Moore, diary entry, September 4, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Moore Papers. For more on warnings given to teachers about food, see, Moore, diary entry, August 25, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Moore Papers; May Faurote, letter, undated [1913], 276, “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers; and Bureau of Insular Affairs, letter to John W. Wood, December 11, 1903, folder 2121, box 252, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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to support white people.”65 Outraged and concerned, the teachers held a mass meeting in Manila to protest the withdrawal of commissary privileges. They agreed to send a cablegram to President McKinley stating that “it would be impossible for the teachers to go into the provinces without this privilege.” The teachers brought the cablegram to Governor Taft, who endorsed it and sent it to the President as an official message.66 The civilian government eventually settled the furor by setting up a civil commissary, through which teachers could purchase canned goods and other familiar foodstuffs. In addition to the turmoil over the commissary, the teachers received their salaries and discovered that they were to be paid in Mexican silver (the currency in use in the Philippines during the Spanish period) rather than in US gold dollars. As the Mexican currency was on the decline, any teachers wishing to convert their salaries into American currency (often for the purpose of sending money home) would lose money with each transaction.67 Inevitably, conflict arose between the teachers and the Bureau of Education over the teachers’ behavior and freedom of action. Despite the prohibition against interfering with religion, several American teachers came to the islands with the intention of proselytizing. John Henry Manning Butler was ordained as a “deacon in the Philippine Islands” in the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church before leaving North Carolina, indicating that he intended to spread the faith.68 In the early years of American education, several teachers were also disciplined for giving their students bibles, or holding bible study in their homes. In November 1902, teacher G. M. Palmer was accused by the Director of the Catholic Truth Society of writing a letter to an Illinois newspaper criticizing the friars in the islands, and stating that he had invited students to his

65 66

67 68

Priestley, letter to Ethel, August 29, 1901, folder 1, and letter to Sissy, September 4, 1901, folder 2, Priestley Letters. Moore, diary entry, September 4, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Moore Papers. See also, Bradford K. Daniels, “Teachers in the Philippines,” The Watchman and Southron, October 30, 1901, 7, and “Teachers in the Philippines,” The Typewriter and the Phonographic World XVIII, no. 4 (December 1901), 338. Moses, diary entry, November 1, 1900, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 6. Lane, “Butler-Newby,” 3. If Butler did proselytize in the islands, he did it very discreetly. In 1904, no AME Zion conference had yet been established in the islands, preventing Butler from being an official delegate therefrom. J. W. Smith, “General Conference of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church,” Star of Zion, May 12, 1904, 4. In addition, if Butler had openly preached to his community, he likely would have been disciplined as other American teachers were.

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home to look at his bible.69 When confronted by Elmer B. Bryan, the current General Superintendent of Education, Palmer defended his actions, declaring that the subject of the bible had come up during a discussion of Robinson Crusoe, and that some of his students had expressed a desire to see the book.70 In the end, Palmer was officially reprimanded, and transferred to another station.71 Governor Taft noted that it was necessary to make an example of Palmer, as “radical action may prevent mistakes by others, while a milder punishment would not.”72 Bryan sent out a circular to all division superintendents and teachers in the islands, reminding them not to proselytize or criticize any religion. He also warned teachers to be careful what they wrote in letters because of the danger that the letters might be published in local papers, and readers would get a “wrong impression” about conditions in the islands. In this case, Bryan declared, teachers would be held responsible, and treated as though they had authorized the publication.73 In the eyes of the Bureau of Education, Palmer was not only guilty of promoting Protestantism, but of being so indiscreet as to openly acknowledge this in a public letter. The issue of letter writing became a primary source of conflict between teachers and the Bureau of Education. Virtually all of the teachers wrote letters home to family and friends, describing their experiences in the islands. Some of these letters ended up in the hands of the editors of local newspapers, either by accident or design, and were published. Other teachers wrote letters and articles explicitly intended for publication. In this way, teachers themselves were attempting to contribute to the catalog of colonial knowledge, by reporting on their own experiences in the islands. Teachers quickly learned, however, to be careful about what they put in writing, as the colonial government cracked down on public criticism by its employees. Bradford K. Daniels, a teacher who came to the islands

69 70 71

72 73

Philip O’Ryan, letter to William Howard Taft, November 8, 1902, folder 1534, box 201, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. G. M. Palmer, letter to E. B. Bryan, January 11, 1903, in E. B. Bryan, 3rd Indorsement, January 13, 1903, folder 1534, box 201, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Moses, 4th Indorsement, January 19, 1903, Taft, 5th Indorsement, February 13, 1903, and Bryan, 7th Indorsement, February 20, 1903, folder 1534, box 201, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Taft, 5th Indorsement, February 13, 1903, folder 1534, box 201, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. E. B. Bryan, 7th Indorsement, February 20, 1903, folder 1534, box 201, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA; and Bryan, Circular No. 8, s. 1903, February 24, 1903, “General Circulars, 1903–1909,” unpublished manuscript, Herman B. Wells Library, Indiana University.

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on the Thomas, wrote several letters between the fall of 1901 and the spring of 1902, criticizing the Bureau of Public Instruction and the management of the American teachers. Daniels claimed that the government had failed to properly inform the teachers as to living expenses and conditions, and that it was clear that “the authorities at Washington have blundered.”74 A furious Bernard Moses wrote that Daniels had for some weeks been “writing letters for publication in American papers dealing with the work of establishing public schools in the Philippines,” and had made false statements and “persistently misrepresented affairs.” Both Taft and Moses had apparently suggested that Daniels be fired, though Atkinson seemed reluctant to take action.75 It appears that Daniels retained his position, as he is listed as a teacher on the roster of employees for 1906.76 He continued to criticize the administration and the Bureau of Education, however, writing in March of 1902 that the plan of teaching English to Filipinos was unsound, and that instruction should be in “Filipino.”77 Daniels is not in the roster for 1907, though it is unclear whether he voluntarily resigned or was fired.78 Several other teachers also got into trouble over letters with negative assessments of the colonial state. In a letter home, Blaine Free Moore warned his parents not to publish his letters, as he wanted “to live here a while yet and that would be impossible if some these [sic] should ever show up in this country.” Moore went on to tell of the experience of R. D. Epps, a teacher from South Carolina, who wrote letters for publication in The State. While Moore had been told there was nothing in the letter but “the truth,” Epps was in “trouble now on this score.”79 74

75 76 77

78

79

Daniels, “Teachers in the Philippines,” The Watchman and Southron, October 30, 1901, 7, and “Teachers in the Philippines,” The Typewriter and the Phonographic World XVIII, no. 4 (December 1901), 338. Moses, diary entry, December 20, 1901, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 7. Official Roster of the Bureau of Education, Corrected to March 1, 1906, 7. Daniels, letter to the Boston Herald, March 17, 1902, excerpted in C. B. Wilby, “Letters from the People,” City and State, March 27, 1902, 201. Daniels claims that while the Philippines did not have a national language, that there was a “great similarity” in the dialects, and that “an Ilocano can converse with a Tagalog or a Macabebe and always make himself understood.” What Daniels might have proposed for those fluent of one of the other 100 or so languages spoken in the islands is unclear. Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands, 1907. Interestingly, in 1906 Daniels published an article in The Canadian Magazine titled “The Problem in the Philippines,” in which he declared that “the success of the Educational Department has been phenomenal.” Daniels, “The Problem in the Philippines,” The Canadian Magazine XXVI, no. 3 (January 1906): 216. Moore, letter to Pa and Ma, April 2, 1902, folder 2, box 1, Moore Papers.

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Epps’s early letters were not especially controversial, and he signed his name at the end of each.80 However, in a letter published December 18, 1901, Epps described the “severe methods” being used in Samar, Letye, and Mindoro. The “water cure,” he claimed, was the “favorite torture of the Americans,” and was “said to be horrible.” He continued that a soldier under General Frederick Funston had told him that he had “helped to administer the ‘water cure’ to one hundred and sixty natives, all but twenty-six of whom died.” Epps does not seem to have been trying to criticize government or the treatment of Filipinos; indeed, he explicitly declared that “no Americans over here blame the army for such measures as these natives have no respect for anything short of torture.”81 It is striking, though, that he signed himself simply as “Carolinian” in this article, breaking with his earlier practice of signing his name and signifying that he probably sensed that this letter would be much more controversial than his previous dispatches. Epps was right. His letter, along with other letters, primarily written by soldiers, about the methods being used to interrogate Filipino prisoners, and the prosecution of the war generally, caused an uproar in the US. The Senate Committee on the Philippines launched an investigation into the allegations of torture. Epps’s letter was excerpted in a January 1902 article in City and State – an article that came to the attention of General Funston himself. Funston declared the story of the soldier who had claimed to participate in giving the water cure 160 times as “an atrocious lie” and “braggadocio.”82 Despite using a pseudonym, Epp’s identity was soon discovered. By March 1902, at least, the editor of The State had confirmed that Epps was the author of the letter, and Herbert Welsh, the antiimperialist editor of City and State, had published this information in an open letter to the Attorney General.83 In a letter home one year later, Blaine Free Moore indicated that Epps may have gotten into serious trouble over the letter. Reminding his family again not to publish any of his letters, 80 81 82

83

R. D. Epps, “South Carolinians in Hawaii,” The State, August 20, 1901, 5, and “Carolina Teachers in the Philippines,” The State, October 23, 1901, 3. “Cruel Treatment of the Filipinos,” The State, December 18, 1901, 6. Frederick Funston, letter to the Adjutant-General, February 2, 1902, Exhibit A, in “Charges of Cruelty, etc., to the Native of the Philippines,” Affairs in the Philippine Islands: Hearing before the Committee on the Philippines of the United States Senate, Senate Document 331, Part 2, 57th Congress, 1st Session (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1902), 951. Herbert Welsh, “An Open Letter to the Secretary of War, from the Editor of City and State,” The Public, March 29, 1902, 814–15. See also, “Mr. Welsh’s Letter,” The Richmond-Dispatch, March 25, 1902, 6.

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Moore included the circular from E.B. Bryan.84 Moore concluded that this circular was why he wanted his letters kept private, and that “under the sedition law here some one is in trouble all the time because of something he wrote.” Making reference to Epps, Moore noted that “he’ll be freed but I guess nothing more.”85 It is not clear if Epps was ever in any legal trouble for his letter, but it does seem to have cost him his position. In June 1903, the Anderson Intelligencer reported that Epps had “been removed” as a teacher as a result of his writing for The State.86 The 1903 circular warning teachers that they would be held responsible if the content of private letters became public indicates how seriously the Bureau of Education took leaks of this nature. The US Government and the Philippine Commission had self-consciously portrayed the teachers as the benevolent arm of American colonization. For teachers to publicly criticize the colonial project, therefore, was not only highly embarrassing to the colonial state, it threatened to undermine the justification of the entire imperial project. Teachers, however, did not stop voicing adverse opinions about the government in Manila after this crackdown. They merely stressed to friends and family, as Moore had, that their letters were not for public consumption. John Henry Manning Butler, who had been sending signed letters to the Star of Zion, an African Methodist Episcopal newspaper, about his experiences in the islands, continued to do so, though he began to use the alias “Observer,” or “Onlooker,” probably to protect himself from reprisal.87 Butler did not criticize the Bureau of Education, though he

84

85 86 87

Moore, letter to Brother, April 12, 1903, folder 4, box 1, and Circular to Division Superintendents and Teachers, no. 8, s. 1903, February 24, 1903, folder 4, box 2, Moore Papers. Moore, letter to Brother, April 12, 1903, folder 4, box 1, Moore Papers. “State News,” The Anderson Intelligencer, June 17, 1903, 6. In his first few letters, Butler signed his name. Beginning in August 1902, he began signing himself as “Onlooker,” “Observer,” or “Correspondent.” See, JNO. H.M. Butler, “To the East from the West,” April 10, 1902, 2; Prof. J. H. M. Butler, “From the West to the East: Malta,” April 24, 1902, 2; Prof. John H. M. Butler, “Our Foreign Letter: The Filipino Problem,” June 26, 1902, 1; Onlooker, “In the Philippines,” August 7, 1902, 2; Observer, “Our Manila Letter,” October 9, 1902; Observer, “The Filipino: His Country and Customs,” November 13, 1902, 2; “Our Foreign Letter: On Matters of Vital Interest to the Negro,” January 29, 1903, 6; “Our Foreign Letter: By Our Able Correspondent at Manila,” July 9, 1903, 2; Our Correspondent, “A Foreign Letter: By Prominent Negro Editors in America,” July 30, 1903, 1; Our Correspondent, “Our Foreign Letter: Regarding Our Educational System,” September 24, 1903, 2; Our Special Correspondent, “Our Foreign Letter: Educational Battle of Filipino Similar to Ours,” May 5, 1904, 6, all in Star of Zion.

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revealed a willingness to discuss race in his letters to the Star of Zion, and especially to criticize prejudice in Manila, in a way that he did not in his correspondence with white educational officials or in articles written in his capacity as a representative for the Bureau of Education.88 Comparing these writings, two different Butlers emerge – both of them public personas, but intended for different audiences, and contributing to different catalogs of colonial knowledge. At the same time, Butler also wrote to W. E. B. Du Bois, asking him to send some of his publications to the Bureau of Education in order to promote the hiring of more black teachers. Butler made clear, however, that Du Bois should not mention his name in this correspondence, and should keep his involvement private, indicating that there might be repercussions if “the powers that be” became aware of his active solicitation of these materials.89

 Attending a reception for the newly arrived teachers in Manila in August 1901, Benjamin E. Neal recorded his surprise at hearing a native orchestra, noting, “We came here to teach the uncivilized and here was a native band playing classical music in wonderful style.”90 Throughout their journey, teachers had self-consciously constructed a catalog of colonial knowledge and built up expectations about what they would experience in the Philippines. From the moment they arrived, however, those expectations were challenged by the reality of conditions in the islands. Just as colonial officials would discover that they could not simply transplant Tuskegee or Carlisle to the Philippines, individual teachers would be forced to adapt their ideas to meet new situations, as their experiences

88

89

90

Butler, “From the West to the East: Malta,” Star of Zion, April 24, 1902, 2; “Our Foreign Letter: The Filipino Problem,” Star of Zion, June 26, 1902, 1, and Onlooker, “In the Philippines,” Star of Zion, August 7, 1902, 2. For an example of a letter written for a white audience, see Butler, “A Faraway Writer,” The Tar Heel, May 23, 1902, 2, 5, and “In the Far Away Philippines,” The Tar Heel, April 30, 1903, 3; and “Early Experiences,” vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Comparing Butler’s letter of April 24, 1902, in the Star of Zion, and his letter of May 23, 1902, in The Tar Heel is particularly enlightening, as Butler describes the same trip to Malta, though including his triumph over prejudiced white Masons only in the Star of Zion letter. Butler, letter to W. E. B. Du Bois, August 28, 1902, W. E. B. Du Bois Papers [hereafter Du Bois Papers], Special Collections and University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst. Neal, diary entry, August 27, 1901, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers.

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in the islands challenged their notions of their role as teachers, and at times the very foundations of the colonial state. When the realities of life in the islands diverged from their expectations, teachers pushed back against the colonial state. They also attempted to contribute to the catalog of colonial knowledge, and to shape public discourse on the Philippines, by writing letters and articles to their communities back home. While the Bureau of Education endeavored to limit public expressions of criticism, at least some teachers attempted to circumvent this prohibition by writing under a pseudonym. The government in Manila attempted to shape the narrative about the colonial project carefully, aware that it was central to the justification of the empire. At the same time, teachers expressed a desire to contribute to imperial knowledge production, which could both uphold or challenge the official discourse on colonial education and colonialism itself. Over the course of the American period, it would become increasingly difficult to control the flow of information across the Pacific, as both Americans and Filipinos in the islands eagerly articulated their aspirations for, and frustrations with, colonial education – shaping perceptions of colonization in the United States, disrupting the official narrative of empire, and creating political crises in the Philippines and the US.

2 A Civil Empire Determining Fitness for Colonial Education

In 1908, David P. Barrows, the third Director of Education, declared that in order to be successful in the Philippines, a teacher “must be a man of gentle breeding, of good bearing, of cleanliness or person and of habits, with the open mind of the scholar and with the educational qualifications to properly represent the work that he is supposed to do.” In order to do the “full work” of empire, moreover, teachers needed to be physically fit, energetic, and college-educated. Barrows concluded, “What we want here is youth.”1 The notion of “youth” that he envisioned, of course, was heavily influenced by markers of status and identity, including ideas about gender, class, race, education, and nationality. Despite Barrows’s clear vision of the ideal American teacher, notions of “fitness” for empire were a source of constant discussion and debate among colonial officials. In laying out their different understandings of the requirements for pedagogical success, educational officials drew upon and articulated intersecting markers of status and fitness. Colonial education was a vital piece of American empire and pacification. It not only justified the presence of the US in the Philippines, it also was held up as proof of the benevolent and exceptional nature of American empire, and as a metaphor for the entire colonial project.2 As a result, imperial policymakers viewed decisions about which Americans to allow to participate in education as central to the success of colonization. These 1

2

David P. Barrows, indorsement, November 8, 1904, included in William S. Washburn, letter to Leon Pepperman, May 11, 1905, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park, Maryland. For works that directly address tutelage as the central metaphor of the colonial state, see Kramer, The Blood of Government, and Julian Go, American Empire and the Politics of

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decisions were fundamentally about who was “fit” to participate in colonial education, and what fitness itself meant. The policies created by the Bureau of Education and the Civil Service Commission thus revolved around deciding which Americans to include and exclude. Debates about teachers’ fitness, then, and the hierarchies of difference they articulated, were an essential piece in the building and maintaining of the colonial state.3 Of course, a variety of factors meant that the ideal vision of who would participate in colonial education was never fully realized. First, the ways in which the Bureau of Education and the Philippine Civil Service defined desirable qualities fluctuated over time, as did the ways in which different teachers attempted to claim fitness and inclusion. In addition, by its very nature, decision making for the colonial state was divided, and officials in Manila and Washington, DC at times had strikingly different visions of what fitness for empire meant, leading to conflicts and confrontations over who deserved a position in empire. Rather than relying on one solitary head, decisions about which teachers deserved appointments unfolded in a series of arguments couched in bureaucratic jargon in circular letters between the Bureau of Education, the Civil Service Board in Manila, the Civil Service Commission in Washington, and the Bureau of Insular Affairs (BIA). The disjointed nature of empire also led to debates about what “experience” meant in the context of colonial education, which qualities ought to be valued, and what sort of training would prepare teachers for successful teaching in empire. This meant that even those teachers defined as less desirable could still at times obtain appointments. Finally, conditions in the US and the Philippines meant that colonial officials were not always able to pick and choose exactly what sort of teachers they wanted. All of these factors fundamentally shaped the ways that colonization was enacted on the ground, allowing for a greater variety in who was able to access positions within empire. In developing notions of what imperial fitness meant, decision makers used notions of gender, race, and nationality to envision an ideal teacher. While the military and Philippine Commission initially valued female

3

Meaning: Elite Political Cultures in the Philippines and Puerto Rico during U.S. Colonialism (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2008). For more on the ways in which racial formations undergirded colonial state-building, see Amy Kaplan and Donald E. Pease, eds., Cultures of United States Imperialism (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1993), Vicente Rafael, White Love and Other Events in Filipino History (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2000), Julian Go and Anne L. Foster, eds., The American Colonial State in the Philippines: Global Perspectives (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2003), and Kramer, The Blood of Government.

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teachers as symbols of suasion and pacification, the Bureau of Education began to restrict the participation of women in empire, using the gendered language of vigor to declare that women were not capable of enduring the necessary hardships of life in a tropical empire, and debating whether single or married women were more desirable. The debate over the presence of women in empire lasted as long as did the colonial state. Despite official regulations and exclusion, however, white women continued to find places in empire, and the number of female teachers remained fairly steady. There was debate over the participation of black men and women as well, though this discussion was much less overt than the debate over women. Women, of course, could be officially excluded from empire without immediate electoral ramifications, as women were not a voting constituency. Explicitly restricting the presence of African Americans in empire, however, might have carried a political cost in the US.4 Moreover, American officials were clearly concerned that overt racial prejudice might injure Filipino trust in and collaboration with the colonial state. Black men and women were appointed as teachers for at least the first decade of colonial education, though there is some indication that the vagueness of civil service rules (including ideas about character and fitness), the actual operation of those rules, and individual choices all led to at least one applicant being unofficially excluded from colonial service. Colonial officials and regulations also maintained strict distinctions between Americans and Filipinos. Filipino teachers, and Filipino employees generally, were classified differently from Americans, and made significantly less salary, even in the same positions.5 Filipinos challenged 4

5

For examples of articles in black newspapers concerned with black employment in the Philippines, see “We Would Like to See,” The Colored American, May 18, 1901, 3; and “We Would Like to Know,” The Colored American, October 11, 1902, 7. For BIA correspondence related to concerns about racial prejudice, see folder 1846, box 226, RG 350, NARA. While most Americans initially made between $900 and $1,200, most insular Filipino teachers made between $240 and $480. “Tables Showing the Number of Americans and Filipinos in the Philippine Civil Service on January 1, 1904, and the Salaries Paid,” appendix, Washburn, Falconer, and Alemany, Fourth Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service Board (Manila: Bureau of Public Printing, 1904), 81. By 1922, American teachers were paid between ₱3,000 and ₱4,500 per year. By contrast, Filipino insular teachers were earning on average just over ₱1,000, or one third of the minimum for Americans, while Filipino municipal teachers were making on average about ₱500 per year. The highest paid Filipino insular teachers were paid about ₱1,720 per year. Also in 1922, Division Superintendents were making between ₱4,500 and ₱6,000, with American

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the juxtaposition of “native” and “American,” using the rhetoric of colonial education to break down naturalized associations between race, national identity, and imperial belonging. Especially as an increasing number of Filipino students and teachers were trained in American methods and educated at American institutions, they used these qualifications to confront the administrative and civil service distinctions between Americans and Filipinos.

     The Philippine Commission began working on legislation for the islands in 1900, though a civilian government was not fully established until July 4, 1901, when William Howard Taft was inaugurated as the first Civil Governor. In September 1901, three Filipino members were added to the Commission: Benito Legarda, José Luzuriaga, and T. H. Pardo de Tavera. At the same time, the Philippine Commissioners, Luke E. Wright, Dean C. Worcester, Henry C. Ide, and Bernard Moses, were given positions as the secretaries of the four Executive Departments.6 Governor Taft formally applied for an executive order to authorize the Civil Service Commission to hold examinations for the Philippine service in the US, while the Civil Service Board would hold exams in the islands. In so doing, he noted that the Philippine Commission believed it to be “of the greatest importance” that anyone in the US who wanted to apply to the Philippine civil service should have the opportunity to do so.7 President McKinley complied, and also directed the Civil Service Commission to assist the Civil Service Board in

6

7

Acting Division Superintendents earning between ₱3,400 and ₱5,500. For the same year, there were four Filipino Division Superintendents, making between ₱3,000 and ₱4,500, and eight Acting Division Superintendents earning between ₱1,560 and ₱3,600. So, while there were two Filipinos earning the same salary as Americans in the same positions, most were making significantly less. See “Philippine Islands – Teachers’ Salaries in Pesos,” folder 3140–139, box 476, Classified Files, 1914–45, and Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands, July 1, 1922 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1922), 32, in Official Rosters, 1921–9, vol. 787, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. Washburn, “The Philippine Civil Service and Merit System,” appendix, Washburn and Felipe Buencamino, Second Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service Board to the Civil Governor of the Philippine Islands for the Year Ended September 30, 1902 (Manila: Bureau of Public Printing, 1903), 56. William H. Taft, letter to Secretary of War, September 14, 1900, folder 2223, box 257, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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establishing and maintaining an “honest and efficient” civil service in the Philippines.8 The creation of a civil service was seen as ideologically important to the imperial project. William S. Washburn, the head of the Philippine Civil Service Board, depicted the creation of a “merit system” of appointment as crucial to establishing a benevolent and exceptional colonial state. He argued that without a civil service US governance would be “foredoomed to humiliating failure,” as it would be “very difficult to secure and keep in the service honest, competent Americans” with the proper “missionary” spirit.9 The very fact, he declared, that the US was alone in extending a merit system to its colonial bureaucracy demonstrated the “magnanimity, greatness, and exalted purposes of the American nation.”10 As originally established by the Civil Service Act, Act No. 5 of the Philippine Commission, passed in September 1900, many of the positions in the colonial government were classified, though typically not those at the very top or very bottom, such as executive secretaries or day laborers. In order to be eligible for an exam, applicants had to take an oath recognizing the “supreme authority” of the US in the islands.11 One distinctive feature of the Philippine service was that the municipal service of Manila was classified, as Washburn noted, in order that the “absence of the corrupting influences of politics” would ensure that the capital city avoided “scandal and corruption.”12 By including Manila’s municipal positions in the civil service, the Civil Service Board intended to create a national capital free of the evils that plagued Washington,

8

9

10 11

12

William McKinley, Memo of Executive Order, November 30, 1900, folder 2223, box 257, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Progressives in the US had been pushing for civil service reform throughout the late nineteenth century. Once the US annexed overseas colonies, some of these reformers hoped that empire might provide a testing ground for a more robust merit system. Paul A. Kramer, “Reflex Actions: Colonialism, Corruption and the Politics of Technocracy in the Early Twentieth Century United States,” in Challenging US Foreign Policy: American and the World in the Long Twentieth Century, ed. Bevan Sewell and Scott Lucas (New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 14–35. Washburn, “The Philippine Civil Service and Merit System,” 55. By making reference to a “missionary” spirit, Washburn seems to be indicating a readiness to endure difficult conditions in a spirit of self-sacrifice, in order to do good. Other Americans, notably the Thomasites, also utilized this language. Washburn, “The Philippine Civil Service and Merit System,” 56. “An Act for the Establishment and Maintenance of an Efficient and Honest Civil Service in the Philippine Islands,” appendix, Second Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service, 18–19. Washburn, “The Philippine Civil Service and Merit System,” 57.

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DC, an additional demonstration of American benevolence and good administration.13 In its first year of operation, the Philippine Civil Service Board examined over four thousand applicants, about half of whom were rated eligible and appointed to positions in the colonial government. Many of the first appointees were Americans, though the Civil Service Act enshrined the gradual goal of Filipinization. According to the act, preference should be given to “natives of the Philippine Islands” first, and to honorably discharged American soldiers, sailors, and marines second. Americans from the US were supposed to be appointed only in the event that no qualified person could be found in the islands.14 The Civil Service Board anticipated that as the number of Filipinos fluent in English was constantly increasing, they would be able to replace the Americans in the colonial government over time. The Board declared that as a “high grade of efficiency” could not be “maintained with a transitory personnel,” the stability of the government would likely “increase as the number of Americans in the service decreases.”15 Looking forward to Filipinization early on did not mean that the Board was pro-independence, however. Washburn argued in 1910 that evidence of the “present unfitness of Filipinos for self-government” could be found in the “reckless extravagance” of the members of the Philippine Assembly in voting for salary increases for themselves in the first weeks of its existence.16 By 1903, the civil service had been amended to cover practically every bureau and office in the civil government. Notable exceptions were the American teachers, though the Philippine Commission had announced its intention to put the teaching service under the civil service in the near future, allowing the Civil Service Commission to hold examinations for teachers in March and April of 1903. The Civil Service Board noted this change with approval, arguing that instituting competitive exams for teaching positions had improved the pedagogical quality of US schools,

13 14 15 16

For more on civil service reform and its connection to US empire, see Kramer, “Reflex Actions,” 19–23. Washburn and Buencamino, Second Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service Board, 5–6. Washburn, Falconer, and Alemany, Fourth Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service Board, 12. Washburn, “The Philippine Civil Service,” The Journal of Race Development, ed. George H. Blakeslee and G. Stanley Hall, vol. 1, 1910–11 (Worcester: Clark University, 1911), 47.

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and that a similar result would be obtained by putting teachers in the Philippines under the classified service.17 Civil service regulations would not apply to American teachers coming to the islands until September 1, 1903, after which all teachers in Manila and all teachers of English everywhere else would be folded into the civil service.18 These positions may have been classified first in order to slowly transition teachers into the civil service, or perhaps to temporarily exempt American specialists and Filipino teachers. The first exams for American teachers took place in December 1903, in Manila and the provincial capitals.19 The Civil Service Board also began transitioning Filipino teachers into the classified service. From October 1903 to June 1904, over 800 Filipinos took the exam in English for the position of “Filipino teacher.”20 From the beginning, then, American and Filipino teachers were classified separately, enshrining the positions as distinct from each other, with substantially different pay grades. While the civil service was steadily expanding in the Philippines, it was not extended to either Cuba or Puerto Rico, where appointments were made either by the military government or by heads of departments.21 As the military government in Cuba lasted only until 1903, it seems likely that it was not thought worthwhile to classify the civil positions there, though civilian employees were able to transfer from Cuba to positions within the civil service, including the Philippines.22 Positions in Puerto Rico were classified in 1907, though the American teachers remained outside the civil service.23 It is probable that there were never enough American teachers in Puerto Rico to include them in the civil service.

17 18

19 20 21 22

23

Second Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service Board, 8–10. An Act for the Establishment and Maintenance of an Efficient and Honest Civil Service in the Philippine Islands,” appendix, Second Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service, 22. Washburn, Falconer, and Alemany, Fourth Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service Board, 7–8. Washburn, Falconer, and Alemany, Fourth Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service Board, 5–6. Clarence R. Edwards, letter to William Cary Sanger, Assistant Secretary of War, March 28, 1902, folder 2223, box 257, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Edwards, “Report of the Chief of the Bureau of Insular Affairs,” Annual Reports of the War Department for the Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1902, vol. 1: Report of the Secretary of War and Reports of Bureau Chiefs (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1903), 757. Frank R. McIntyre, letter to W. A. Ayres, November 23, 1927, folder 3140–179, Part II, box 478, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. See also Kramer, “Reflex Actions,” 27–8.

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“   ”:      The civil service regulations were intended to identify a specific type of applicant. Both the Bureau of Education and the Civil Service Board were not just searching for an examination score, a demonstration of mental acuity and educational attainment, but also for the more abstract notion of “character,” which would indicate fitness for colonial service. The idea of character included a complex combination of vigorous qualities, moral selfcontrol, and social polish, which hinged on understandings of gender, race, and class. Of course, exactly what “fitness” for participation in colonial education meant was hotly contested. Who deserved a position within empire and how they were to be appointed, moreover, became the subject of ongoing conflict between the civil service, the BIA, and the Bureau of Education. Despite his faith in a merit system, Washburn argued that civil service appointments did not rely on competitive examination alone, but also on personal observation of applicants. “The mere physical presence of an applicant or competitor,” Washburn argued, “sometimes reveals elements of unfitness, moral or physical, growing out of vicious habits.” He concluded that all factors that could influence an applicant’s fitness were important to take into consideration, including “inebriety and immorality,” which were bad enough at home, but which were “grim destroyers in a tropical, debilitating climate.” And yet in spite of this, Washburn maintained that each exam was “absolutely impartial in character.”24 The belief that a tropical climate could be dangerous to those with weak characters or a tendency to vice was a common one, frequently articulated by colonial officials warning against racial or national degeneration. The Civil Service Board desired that its employees be “men of good character,” and expected heads of departments to dismiss those “employees who reflect discredit upon it.” Reasons for which civil servants could be dismissed included gambling, “physical incapacity due to immoral or vicious habits,” usury, indebtedness, or other “pecuniary embarrassment arising from reprehensible conduct,” conducting a side business, “disreputable conduct committed prior to entering the service,” and the “willful violation” of civil service rules.25 In essence, civil servants could be removed for any behavior perceived to be either immoral or injurious to the reputation of the Board or the department in which they were employed. 24 25

Washburn, “The Philippine Civil Service and Merit System,” 58–9. Washburn, Falconer, and Alemany, Fourth Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service Board, 10.

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In its second annual report, the Civil Service Board noted that while enforcing the civil service law had not been problematic, not all department heads had been enthusiastic about abiding by its provisions.26 This may not have been a reference solely to Barrows, the third General Superintendent of Education and the first to administer an educational bureau increasing under civil service regulations, but he was probably uppermost in the minds of the Board members as they accused some officials of a lack of zeal in upholding civil service regulations. Even before the American teachers were included in the classified service, Washburn was advocating that civil service appointees be examined in the US before being given clearance to travel to the Philippines, in order to avoid the “consequent embarrassment” of employees arriving in the islands and proving to be “incompetent.”27 The question of who should appoint teachers became a battle between Washburn and Barrows, carried on in the typical language of bureaucratic restraint and understatement in letters between the Civil Service Commission and BIA in Washington, and the Civil Service Board and Bureau of Education in Manila. Through this correspondence, Barrows made clear that he considered the civil service method insufficient to evaluate possible teachers, while Washburn accused Barrows of being obstinate and obstructionist. In one of his first complaints against the department head, Washburn wrote a “personal and confidential” letter to Clarence R. Edwards, the head of the BIA, that Barrows was trying to institute a “radical change” in the established policy for selecting teachers, and indeed, attempting to undermine the entire examination system. Barrows had decreed that teachers could be appointed without any “experience or training as teachers.” This move, Washburn concluded, was a continuation of the General Superintendent’s opposition to the role of the civil service in selecting employees. Defending the use of competitive exams to appoint teachers, Washburn declared that the fault was not in the merit system, but in the “inordinately low salaries” that teachers were being offered. Calling Barrows’s attitude “surprising and unreasonable,” Washburn maintained that the examination system would soon be vindicated, especially if minimum salaries levels were raised.28

26 27 28

Washburn and Buencamino, Second Annual Report of the Philippine Civil Service (Manila: Bureau of Public Printing, 1903), 9. Washburn, letter to Acting Civil Governor, April 11, 1902, folder 2223, box 257, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Washburn, letter to Edwards, November 28, 1904, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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Washburn’s complaint, and the source of his belief in Barrows’s hostility to the civil service, was almost certainly rooted in a letter the General Superintendent had written several months earlier. In it, Barrows reiterated his belief that “the college bred man is the most desirable for teacher’s appointment,” and that such training made instructors more devoted to the work and “better able to endure the hardships and difficulties of the service out here.” This, perhaps, would not have been sufficient to arouse Washburn’s ire on its own, but Barrows went on to claim that the quality of the men who had been hired in the past year, in accordance with civil service regulations, was far below the standard of previous teachers. Concluding that the exams were not “calling forth the most desirable class of men,” he asked whether it would be possible to accept college transcripts and faculty recommendations in lieu of competitive examinations.29 This, according to Barrows, ought to be sufficient to demonstrate the fitness of prospective teachers for colonial service, and, indeed, would provide a far better assessment of character than the merit system. This conflict highlights the differing definitions of “fitness” employed by Washburn and Barrows. While Washburn placed his faith in competitive examination and relevant experience, Barrows stressed the importance of a young, vigorous, polished manhood to do the work of education in empire. While most of the teachers appointed under Fred Atkinson had at least two years of teaching under their belt, Barrows clearly valued other qualities above work experience. Complaining about the teachers sent to the islands in the recent past, Barrows stressed that a college degree, with the “culture, the resourcefulness and the enthusiasm” which such training provided, was far more important than actual years of experience at teaching.30 Even once Barrows accepted that the civil service was a permanent feature of teacher selection, the conflict between the Bureau of Education and the Civil Service Board did not abate. Washburn wrote letter after

29 30

Barrows, letter to Washburn, June 27, 1904, folder 470, box 84, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Barrows, indorsement, November 8, 1904, included in Washburn, letter to Pepperman, May 11, 1905, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Two years after this, Barrows still held that college training was more important than “actual experience” teaching. Concerned about the ability to find a sufficient number of young college men, Barrows declared that the department should make a “special effort” to interest young men who would graduate that spring. To attract recent graduates, the BIA sent a circular letter to 800 colleges, normal schools, polytechnic institutes, and other educational institutions, asking them to publicize the fact that about 120 teachers would be needed that summer. Barrows, letter to Frank McIntyre, December 4, 1906, and Edwards, circular letter, January 3, 1907, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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letter to the BIA complaining that Barrows was insisting on selecting prospective teachers himself, rather than letting the civil service select and appoint eligible candidates. Shortly after his complaint that Barrows was attempting to dramatically change the requirements for teacher appointments, Washburn wrote to the BIA that the General Superintendent was “very insistent on making his own selections.” This attitude made it necessary for the Civil Service Commission in the US to send the examination papers to the Civil Service Board in Manila as soon as they were rated, to be passed on to Barrows to make appointments. This was a slow process, Washburn alleged, and would likely result in delays in appointing teachers before the beginning of the school year.31 Edwards clearly agreed with Washburn’s assessment that the selection of teachers in Manila was problematic. As teachers often signed contracts for the school year several months in advance, the delay caused by sending examination papers to Manila meant that a much higher percentage of teachers declined the position. Edwards declared that this factor outweighed “the advantages obtained by making the personal selection at Manila.” Instead, he continued, teacher appointments should be made by the BIA in Washington. Insinuating that Barrows may have been influenced by the personal appeal of august personages, Edwards added that this method would have the added advantage of happening quickly after the examinations were held, thereby eliminating the “opportunity for the exertion of extraneous influence.”32 Washburn wrote several more letters to the BIA complaining that Barrows refused to comply with civil service rules and regulations. The Bureau of Education had, he declared, declined to hire sixty eligible candidates for reasons that were not legitimate according to the policies of the Civil Service Board. Moreover, Washburn argued that the attitude of the Bureau of Education had “materially retarded efficiency in the teaching service,” and that its “lack of system” had created “unusual difficulties” for the Board beyond the “inordinate demands” of its head.33 Some of the conflict between the Bureau of Education and the Civil Service Boards arose from the fact that which qualities were seen as valuable or detrimental in teachers were constantly changing. In another 31 32 33

Washburn, letter to Pepperman, Assistant to the Chief, BIA, December 9, 1904, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Edwards, letter to Washburn, January 29, 1905, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Washburn, letter to Edwards, March 11, 1905, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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letter complaining about Barrows’s hostility to the examination system, Washburn recounted an exchange with the General Superintendent that revealed these changing priorities. The Bureau of Education had declined to appoint an eligible teacher because he was married with a small family, which was coming to be seen as a drawback for provincial appointment. Washburn responded to Barrows that this complaint was clearly not an “insuperable objection” to the teacher’s appointment, “in view of the fact that selection of teachers under similar circumstances” had recently been made. If Barrows wanted this to become set policy, he continued, “the fact should be announced in the United States” to save applicants with families the trouble of taking the exam. Washburn concluded that Barrows’s attitude toward the civil service was clearly hostile, unfairly blaming the examination system for the difficulties in finding and appointing efficient teachers.34 The letters written back and forth across the Pacific between civil service officials, the BIA, and the Bureau of Education reveal the divergent expectations and priorities of different colonial organizations. Individual preferences, too, could make a real difference as to whether or not a teacher was considered “fit” for the colonial teaching service. Despite Edwards’s claim that teacher selection could be more efficiently and impartially done by the BIA, it is clear that he had his own beliefs and prejudices about who deserved a position within empire. The authority to appoint teachers appears to have vacillated between the Bureau of Education and the BIA. Barrows himself went on a vacation to the US in 1907 and while there, conducted interviews and appointed a number of teachers.35 In a 1908 cable, James F. Smith, the Secretary of Education, instructed the BIA: “Do not appoint any more female school teachers.”36 This would indicate that the BIA had the power to hire teachers, guided by the desires of the Bureau of Education. It appears that Washburn and Edwards did gain their point, therefore, and the BIA did gain some control of teacher appointments. By the 1910s, however, the Bureau of Education began sending employees as representatives to the US to appoint teachers. George N. Briggs, the Superintendent of the 34 35

36

Washburn, letter to Pepperman, May 11, 1905, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Barrows, letter to McIntyre, March 28, 1907; Barrows, letter to McIntyre, March 30, 1907; and Barrows, letter to McIntyre, July 20, 1907, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. James F. Smith, cable to BIA, May 15, 1908, folder 470, box 86, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. This instruction was one of many regarding the ebb and flow of appointing female teachers, and will be discussed later in this chapter.

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Philippine Normal School, served as an educational agent in 1910.37 By the late 1910s, the Bureau had begun appointing former officials as educational agents, a practice that continued throughout the 1920s.38

“ ’ ”:       Both women and men were given appointments as teachers from the beginning of the educational project in the Philippines. This was a conscious choice, as the BIA and Philippine Commission intended the presence of white women to represent the benevolence of American intentions and, as Paul Kramer has argued, the “transformation of colonial politics from war to suasion.”39 Using the rhetoric of maternalism, the colonial government depicted female teachers as holding a special place within the Filipino heart.40 Yet the Bureau of Education clearly felt ambivalent about the presence of women in empire. Despite the fact that the colonial government promoted the appointment of female teachers as a symbol of pacification, their inclusion was contested from the beginning. The discomfort of educational and civil service officials with female teachers stemmed from individual and group definitions of fitness for empire. Some argued that women were not strong or hardy enough for the strenuous work of colonial uplift, or that they could not be sent to remote locations without the guardianship of other Americans (and, specifically, American men). Others worried that women’s very bodies were ill-suited to tropical climates. The advent of US colonization in the Philippines coincided with rising diagnoses of neurasthenia, a disease believed to stem from overwork, mental strain, and the stresses of modern civilization. After 1898, colonial physicians began to identify an imperial variant, “tropical neurasthenia” or “philippinitis,” in which the climate itself was believed to wear on white Americans, sapping their energy and focus. Colonial doctors depicted white women as particularly susceptible to this ailment, which supposedly disrupted their health, spirits, and even 37 38

39 40

“Insular News and Personals,” Philippine Education 2, no. 2 (August 1910): 60, and “Many Positions Open in Philippine Islands,” The Daily Palo Alto, October 10, 1910, 4. W. W. Marquardt was appointed an educational agent in 1920, after he resigned as the Director of Education, and was followed by Harvey A. Bordner. For correspondence related to the educational agents, see folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, and folder 470–660770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 178. Fred Atkinson, “Report of the General Superintendent of Education for the Year Ending September 1, 1902,” Third Annual Report of the Philippine Commission, 1902, Part 2 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1903), 952.

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their menstruation. Despite the fact that most white women themselves reported being in excellent health, colonial officials at times declared that they were simply not biologically suited for imperial roles.41 After the initial wave of teacher appointments, the Bureau of Public Instruction began to limit the number of female teachers brought to the Philippines. Shortly after the arrival of the Thomasites, in September 1901 Fred Atkinson urged in a letter to the head of the BIA that men be given preference over women in the hiring of teachers.42 Indeed, Blaine Free Moore claimed that H. G. Squier, who became the Division Superintendent of Schools for Romblon, Masbate, Marinduque, and Mindoro, told him “that there would have been no women teachers brought over if it had not been for the demand of the Army officers who want the women here,” and that “no more women would be appointed.”43 By April of the next year, this position had become official. A circular from the Department of Public Instruction stated: “No more women teachers will be appointed until the conditions as to food, lodgings and companions are more satisfactory than at present, except that where husband and wife are both qualified as teachers the chances for appointment are better.”44 Women did continue to receive appointments, though classifying American teachers under civil service regulations made restricting the access of women to teaching positions somewhat more uniform. By 1904, the policy of the Philippine civil service was that only women who had qualified by examination, and were also the wife, fiancée, or immediate relative of a male teacher employed in the Philippine service would be given appointments.45 At the same time, Barrows also clearly stated his

41

42 43 44 45

Warwick Anderson, Colonial Pathologies: American Tropical Medicine, Race, and Hygiene in the Philippines (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2006), 131–40. Anderson accounts for the discrepancy between male descriptions of female ailments and women’s own evaluations of their health in the tropics by suggesting that white women might have been “reluctant to admit to a nervousness that was formulated (for them) so explicitly as an index of biological and intellectual inferiority” (Anderson, Colonial Pathologies, 140). This is certainly possible, as women were invested in claiming a place within empire, but it also seems likely that doctors and colonial officials focused on the supposed susceptibility of white women as part of their understanding of and arguments about imperial fitness. Atkinson, letter to Edwards, September 30, 1901, folder 470, box 84, RG 350, NARA. Blaine Free Moore, diary entry, August 31, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Blaine Free Moore Papers [hereafter Moore Papers], Library of Congress, Washington, DC. Circular, Office of the General Superintendent, Department of Public Instruction, April 2, 1902, folder 470, box 84, RG 350, NARA. Washburn, letter to Chief, Bureau of Insular Affairs, January 27, 1904, folder 470, box 84, RG 350, NARA. This policy was reiterated in 1905. See Edwards, letter to Civil Service Commission, May 16, 1905, and John. C. Black, letter to Edwards, May 19, 1905, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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preference for young, college-educated men to fill positions as teachers in the Philippines, and indicated that he viewed men with families as undesirable for appointment.46 The increasing gendering of teaching work in the islands was due partly to a shift in the organization and responsibilities of the teaching corps. Assigned initially as teachers of English and primary subjects, by 1905 American teachers were increasingly detailed as either intermediate or high school teachers in provincial capitals or as supervising teachers. Female teachers were “almost without exception” assigned to provincial high or intermediate schools, where they had the “advantages of American society and an American home.”47 At the same time, the curriculum in the public schools focused increasingly on vocational education and manual training and devoted less time to the liberal arts.48 This resulted in more male teachers being assigned to subjects designated for boys, like gardening and woodworking, and female teachers being put in charge of subjects like domestic science. The position of supervising teacher was also gendered by the Bureau of Education, and by male and female teachers. This work, the Bureau declared, could “obviously only be done by a man,” which is why most of the teaching force was composed of men. Ralph Kent Buckland noted that his role as a supervising teacher49involved building up schools not “only in the central towns, but in large districts composed of hundreds of square miles, with perhaps as many as forty barrios scattered over the area of each district.”50 Barrows clearly viewed this sort of work as requiring manly hardiness. He almost immediately appointed Herbert D. Fisher, who arrived in the early months of 1904, as a supervising teacher after he complained vociferously about the difficulty of getting his gun back from customs. Barrows was clearly impressed with Fisher’s gumption, telling him the department needed “men like you badly,” and 46 47

48 49 50

Washburn, letter to Pepperman, May 11, 1905, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. “The Bureau of Education: A Statement of Organization and Aims Published for General Information,” The Philippine Teacher 2, no. 1 (June 1905): 2. This statement was probably written by David Barrows. It is certainly in line with his other pronouncements on gender and the teacher service. Glenn A. May, Social Engineering in the Philippines: The Aims, Execution, and Impact of American Colonial Policy, 1900–13 (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1980), 104–24. “The Bureau of Education: A Statement of Organization and Aims Published for General Information,” 2. Ralph K. Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino (New York: Everywhere Publishing Company, 1912), 146–7.

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wanted men who would “assert themselves like you have done.”51 Both Fisher’s possession of a firearm and his loud objection upon its being taken away appeared to Barrows to demonstrate the type of masculine courage and strength necessary for a strenuous position. Teachers echoed this understanding of the masculine qualities necessary in a supervising teacher. In an article published in 1914, Mary Helen Fee asserted that the life of a supervising teacher was “an arduous one,” as “he must know his district thoroughly, no matter how wild it may be, and must keep continually on the move; he must ford rivers, or swim them, must ride or walk over mountain trails as chance decrees, and must face danger from natural causes.” In addition, he must be “tactful, but firm,” must have “energy untiring, forethought, and initiative,” must learn all there is to know about the work which he oversees, and must keep the Filipinos under him “up to their tasks without antagonizing or discouraging them.” It was, Fee concluded, “a man’s work” that would bring out “all there is of capacity, character and endurance in the subject.”52 Under this valuation, stamina, bravery, initiative, and diplomacy were all gendered as masculine characteristics. Given this perception of the position, it is not surprising that women comprised a very small percentage of supervising teachers.53 The gendering of positions within colonial education aligned with common practice in the US. While women held the majority of teaching positions by the turn of the twentieth century, they were most strongly represented in elementary schools as both teachers and principals. By 1900, women accounted for over 70 percent of the national teaching force, but only 50 percent of high school teachers. In addition, while about 62 percent of elementary principals were women, 95 percent of high school principals, and all district superintendents, were men.54 Despite the Bureau of Education’s attempts to hire more men, the clear gendering of some positions, and the official ban on appointing single 51 52

53

54

Herbert D. Fisher, Philippine Diary (New York. NY: Vantage Press, 2005), 41–2. Mary H. Fee, “The Educational Work of the United States in the Philippines,” in Parents and Their Problems: Child Welfare in Home, School, Church and State, ed. Mary Harmon Weeks (Washington, DC: The National Congress of Mothers and ParentTeacher Associations, 1914), 282–3. For the academic year 1911–12, there were 240 American men assigned as supervising teachers, and only 14 women, 7 of whom were stationed in Manila. Twelfth Annual Report of the Director of Education (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1912), 62–3. John L. Rury, “Who Became Teachers?: The Social Characteristics of Teachers in American History,” in American Teachers: Histories of a Profession at Work, ed. Donald Warren (New York, NY: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1989), 23–7.

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women, unmarried women continued to find ways to obtain positions teaching in the Philippines. While Barrows remained convinced that empire was “pretty largely a man’s work,” he was willing to modify official policy in favor of a few women with personal connections.55 Only a few months after the civil service ban on single women was declared, Barrows proposed readmitting women to the teacher examinations, and hiring three young women who had been highly recommended to him by personal acquaintances. In June 1904, P. S. O’Reilly, the Acting Division Superintendent for Ilocos Sur and Abra, wrote to Barrows to urge the appointment of Sallie and Emma Cotton, of Versailles, Kentucky, as teachers. O’Reilly declared that the high school needed another “two or three ladies” at present, and reminded Barrows of his promise to the provincial treasurer to appoint the Cottons.56 Barrows quickly requested that the Civil Service Board admit the Cottons to the next examination, and in a letter about a week later, that women generally be admitted to the next exam, “which examination the Misses Cotton can enter if they so desire.”57 Around the same time, Barrows informed James F. Smith, the Secretary of Public Instruction, that he wanted to hire one Miss Florence Painter as a teacher, though she had no male relative in the Philippines. Barrows also noted that he would be willing to appoint a few other qualified women, if “first class men” could not be found. Of the 229 women currently in the teaching service, 102 were unmarried and working almost entirely in the provincial schools where, according to Barrows, they had the “benefits of society afforded by the little American colony”; their work, he declared, was “fully equal if not superior to the men.”58 Despite this, Barrows was 55

56 57

58

Barrows, “Regarding appointment of Miss Florence Painter as teacher in the Bureau of Education,” Manila, June 9, 1904, and “Re application for appointment Misses Sallie and Emma Cotton, of Versailles, Kentucky,” July 1, 1904, in folder 470, box 84, RG 350, NARA; and Barrows, letter to Sarah Rixley Smith, September 29, 1904, folder 5, box 1, David P. Barrows Papers [hereafter Barrows Papers], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. P. S. O’Reilly, letter to Barrows, June 13, 1904, folder 470, box 84, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Barrows, 1st Indorsement, letter to Civil Service Board, June 22, 1904, and 4th Indorsement, letter to Secretary of Public Instruction, July 1, 1904, in “Re Application for Appointment Misses Sallie and Emma Cotton, of Versailles, Kentucky,” folder 470, box 84, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. James F. Smith, 1st Indorsement, letter to Barrows, June 14, 1904, and Barrows, 2nd Indorsement, July 17, 1904, in “Regarding Appointment of Miss Florence Painter as teacher in the Bureau of Education,” folder 470, box 84, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. See also, Barrows, letter to Sarah Rixley Smith, September 29, 1904, folder 5, box 1, Barrows Papers.

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informed that the Civil Service Commission refused to admit Painter to the examination without the provision of “particular reasons” for ignoring the established policy against single women. In response, Barrows declared that having an eligible list of single women was now “desirable,” and advised the Commission to admit them generally to the teacher examination.59 Barrows’s attitude reveals the conflicting notions of fitness that could operate simultaneously. Despite the gendering of colonial teaching positions, and his own preference for young, college-trained men, Barrows still regarded women with specific markers of fitness, whether social connections, special training, or superior qualifications, as desirable for positions within empire. Still, both the Civil Service Commission in Washington and the Civil Service Board in Manila resisted opening up the examinations to single women. This appears to have been a result of Washburn’s distaste for going against official policy, especially in order to benefit a few wellconnected young women. Washburn wrote to the Secretary of Public Instruction that it appeared the Bureau would be able to get a sufficient number of women from those who were already eligible for the exam (women with a male relative already in the islands) and those who were already in the Philippines, without opening the next exam to all women. As this was the case, he declared that the Civil Service Commission “should not be required to examine a large number of women teachers” unless it was likely that a “considerable number” of them would be appointed.60 Barrows responded that he did not intend for the Commission to hold a special exam, but only to admit single women to the scheduled teachers’ exams in order to have a “standing eligible list,” and that while no more than fifteen would be appointed, “single women of superior qualifications” were preferable to an “average male eligible.”61 In another private letter to Colonel Edwards, Washburn complained that the reversal of policy was “occasioned by the applications for appointment of three or four persons.” Despite the fact that he did not believe that it was “desirable to appoint many women to this service,” he concluded that it now seemed “necessary” to permit women to take the

59

60 61

Edwards, cablegram to Luke Wright, July 13, 1904, and Barrows, 2nd Indorsement, letter to J. F. Smith, July 23, 1904, folder 470, box 84, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Washburn, 1st Indorsement, letter to J. F. Smith, July 28, 1904, folder 470, box 84, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Barrows, 3rd Indorsement, letter to J. F. Smith, August 1, 1904, folder 470, box 84, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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next teachers’ examination.62 It is not clear whether or not Washburn hoped that by telling his side of the story he would convince the BIA to intervene to prevent Barrows from changing the examination policy, or if he just hoped that Edwards would be a sympathetic witness to what Washburn clearly saw as the unreasonable demands of the Bureau of Education. The Civil Service Commission in Washington was clearly also either confused or irritated by Barrows’s failure to articulate a clear policy on the admissibility of female applicants for teachers’ examinations.63 Despite frustration with the Director of Education, the Civil Service Commission did allow women back into the examinations. When Barrows forwarded a request from a Judge Willard of Manila that two young women, Miss Jordan and Miss Smith, be admitted to the teachers’ examination, the response to the original recommender of the two women was that the next examination would be closed to women without a close male relative in the service, but that the exam in March would be open to all women.64 By July 1906, Washburn wrote to the BIA that in order to maintain a list of eligible unmarried women, they would be admitted to teachers’ examinations on a biannual basis.65 Later that year, Barrows articulated again his desire for young college men, though he also noted that the Bureau would need a “limited number” of women, especially those able to teach domestic science or to run a girls’ dormitory.66 While Washburn accepted, though grudgingly, the changing policy toward admitting unmarried women into teacher examinations, he still attempted to hold Barrows to civil service rules for appointments. Writing to Frank McIntyre in early 1908, Washburn declared that the policy of 62 63 64

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Washburn, letter to Edwards, August 12, 1904, folder 470, box 84, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. John C. Black, letter to BIA, October 17, 1905, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Barrows, letter to Director, Civil Service Board, April 19, 1906, in Jose E. Alemany, circular letter, May 11, 1906, and McIntyre, Letter to W. A. Jones, July 10, 1906, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Throughout the spring and summer of 1907, Barrows was in California, visiting home, but also appointing teachers. Along with male teachers, he appointed a small number of female teachers, including Harriet Smith and Medora Jordan, probably the two women recommended to him by Judge Willard. Barrows, letter to McIntyre, March 28, 1907, and telegram to McIntyre, March 30, 1907, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Washburn, letter to BIA, July 5, 1906, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. I believe in this instance that the use of “biannual” refers to every two years, as that is the length of time that results from a civil service exam were valid. Barrows, letter to McIntyre, December 4, 1906, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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the Board was “not to appoint women who are not wives, fiancees, or relatives of teachers or who are not qualified as domestic science teachers.” If the Bureau of Education were going to hire unmarried women generally, he continued, they must select appointees from the three “whose names are highest on the register,” noting that Barrows had not done this in the case of two women who were given positions.67 While the Bureau of Education continued to alternately admit and exclude single women from the teaching service, the numbers of women teaching in the Philippines remained fairly constant throughout the colonial period. The lowest numbers were in 1908, with women constituting about 25 percent of the teaching force. For the first decade and a half of colonial education, women typically comprised about onethird of the American teachers working in the islands. By the beginning of World War I, the numbers of women employed as teachers actually surpassed the number of men, an imbalance that persisted throughout the early 1920s.68 Opportunities for female teachers, including young, single women, in the Philippines expanded significantly as a result of the American entrance into the First World War. From 1917 through to the early 1920s, attracting and retaining teachers for the Philippine service became significantly more difficult. In 1918, Walter Marquardt, the Director of Education, reported that, with the exception of the period from 1901 to 1903, the previous year had been more “fraught with difficulties” than any in the history of the Bureau. Faced with an acute shortage of teachers, due to losses to the war effort, the Red Cross, the YMCA, commercial firms, and some deaths, the Bureau was forced to hire a larger number of women from the US and to increase insular salaries.69 That year, women were

67

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Washburn, letter to McIntyre, January 2, 1908, folder 470, box 86, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. home, but also appointing teachers. Along with male teachers, he appointed a small number of female teachers, including Harriet Smith and Medora Jordan, probably the two women recommended to him by Judge Willard. Barrows, letter to McIntyre, March 28, 1907, and telegram to McIntyre, March 30, 1907, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Reports of the Director of Education, 1908–1925, Vols. 608, 610, and 628, in Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. Almost all of these female teachers were white though, as mentioned elsewhere, it is impossible to know exactly how many black women teachers worked in the Philippines, as the BIA did not keep records of employees’ race. W. W. Marquardt, Nineteenth Annual Report of the Director of Education, January 1, 1918, to December 31, 1918 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1919), pg. 8, folder 3725–86, 100, 109, box 509, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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admitted to the teachers’ examinations “without restriction.”70 Despite increased efforts to recruit teachers, Harvey A. Bordner, the educational agent in the United States, reported that he had “worked very hard and accomplished little,” noting that the entrance salaries of $1,200 to $1,400 were no longer competitive to attract college graduates, as salaries in the US had increased between 25 and 50 percent.71 These problems continued after the war ended. Director of Education Luther Bewley noted in his 1920 report that the work of the Bureau had been “seriously affected during the last several years by the withdrawal from the service of many of our best and most experienced teachers,” motivated by the availability of more lucrative positions in the private sector. While the Bureau was trying to raise salaries, it was becoming increasingly difficult, Bewley noted, to find and retain “satisfactory American men teachers.” The Bureau continued trying to recruit male teachers, but Marquardt voiced his belief that it would be necessary to offer significantly higher salaries to do so. While the minimum salary for teachers was ₱2,600, or about $1,300, he noted that army teachers were receiving $1,960, that Standard Oil was paying $2,000 as a starting salary, and that the Federal Board of Rehabilitation of disabled soldiers offered $2,400 for “good men.”72 An additional difficulty was that, apart from salaries, there was diminished interest in living abroad, largely due to the “unsettled political conditions” as a result of the war. Besides this, there had been newspaper reports of possible hostilities between the US and Japan, and the Wood–Forbes Commission’s visit to the islands had made teachers question the tenure of service.73 The disruptions created by the war resulted in more American women being appointed than would have otherwise been the case. While in March 1917, women made up

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Everett A. Colson, circular letter, 1st indorsement, January 30, 1918, folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Harvey A. Bordner, letter to Marquardt, May 22, 1919, folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Marquardt, letter to Luther Bewley, May 21, 1920, folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. For teachers’ salaries, see Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands, 1914–21, vol. 786, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. James C. Scott, “Report on Work of Obtaining American Teachers in the United States, March 1 to May 18, 1921,” vol. 2, Walter W. Marquardt Papers, Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. After Warren G. Harding was elected in 1920, American policy in the Philippines shifted with the return of a Republican administration. Harding sent General Leonard Wood and W. Cameron Forbes to the Philippines to report on conditions there.

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only 30 percent of the teaching force, three years later, female teachers accounted for over half of the service. Of the ninety-five teachers appointed from the US in 1920, moreover, seventy-three were women.74 Despite the difficulty of finding teachers, the Bureau of Education remained deeply ambivalent about the hiring of female teachers. The reasoning behind this hesitancy shifted somewhat, however, focusing primarily on age and health as markers of fitness. This was partly in response to changes in the number of American teachers and where they were stationed. The combination of the policy of Filipinization and the First World War resulted in a dramatic drop in the number of American teachers. At the same time, these teachers were increasingly assigned to provincial towns and to Manila, working as intermediate or high school teachers in specialized subjects rather than as primary teachers of English. This likely accounts for the changing articulations of what “fitness” for teaching in the Philippines meant, as educational officials focused less on the rigors of provincial life and more on age as a marker of steadiness and reliability. At the same time, the Bureau of Education continued to stress the issue of health, particularly for female teachers. Shortly after the end of the war, the Bureau of Education began to voice concerns about young female teachers, and attempted to restrict the age limit for women candidates. Luther Bewley, who became the Director of Education in 1919, asked the Civil Service Commission to raise the age limit for women to thirty years, except for those married or related to male employees. Bewley argued that women under the age of thirty were much more likely to quit their positions or get married than older women.75 Bewley explained this position in a letter to Marquardt, who had become the educational agent in charge of pensionados (governmentsponsored students studying in the US) and was also interviewing potential teachers, declaring that the Bureau was having a “great deal of trouble” with the “new girls” who had come to teach. Many of them “resented very bitterly” the living conditions in the provinces, while others had gotten married and broken their contracts. Bewley acknowledged that it might be difficult to find female teachers between the ages of thirty and forty (the upper age for all civil employee appointments), but

74

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Luther Bewley, Twenty-First Report of the Director of Education, January 1, 1920, to December 31, 1920 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1921), pgs. 12–13, folder 3725–86, 100, 109, box 509, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Bewley, letter to Civil Service Commission, October 2, 1919, folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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declared that it would be better to have no American teachers at all than “these young upstarts.”76 Attempts to institute strict age limitations do not appear to have been successfully applied, however. Desperate for effective teachers, Bewley declared that he would rather have “excellent” women teachers than “second-rate” men.77 Once Marquardt, now the educational agent in the US, made it clear that most of the female teachers interested in going to the Philippines were under thirty, Bewley responded that he would be willing to appoint women as young as twenty-five.78 This focus on the age of female teachers was something of a reversal from earlier years in which educational officials had worried more about women being too old, rather than too young, for positions in the islands. In addition, it is striking that while prior Directors of Education had argued that conditions in provincial towns were not suitable for single, unaccompanied women, Bewley now blamed the women themselves for being overly demanding in their expectations of living standards. The root of Bewley’s dissatisfaction with young female teachers appears to have been that some had claimed that Marquardt promised them they would be assigned to Manila, and complained about being sent to other provincial capitals. While Bewley declared that these claims were “nothing more than a misrepresentation,” he noted that a few “young girls have caused us no little trouble this year,” as they were able “to make misstatements of facts and get the sympathy of the general public.” As a result, Bewley wanted to raise the age limit of female appointees to thirty, and preferred hiring women over thirty-five. There was “strong opposition,” he declared, “to appointing any more young women, and in fact some object to having women at all.”79 Apparently, a few young female teachers had, 76 77 78

79

Bewley, letter to Marquardt, October 3, 1919, folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Bewley, letter to Marquardt, January 23, 1920, folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Marquardt, cablegram to Bewley, March 25, 1920, and Bewley, cablegram to Marquardt, April 21, 1920, folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Bewley, letter to Marquardt, September 28, 1920, folder 470–660-770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. The negative publicity that was harassing the Bureau of Education is exemplified in a series of letters published in the New York Times in 1924. A former teacher declared that teachers were being fleeced out of employment and transportation home, leaving them to “walk the streets in Manila seeking vainly for employment.” The real sufferer, the author declared, was “the American girl” who suffered “humiliation and financial loss.” Another teacher wrote to the Times to defend the Bureau of Education, claiming that teachers were not mistreated, though they were sometimes fired for “insubordination,” as in the case of a dismissed teacher who, sent to a

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after being disappointed in their assignments, refused to leave Manila, and had taken their complaints to the public, which had caused negative publicity for the Bureau of Education. In a “personal” letter to Marquardt, Alejandro Albert, the Under-Secretary of Public Instruction, reported that the “situation had reached such a stage” that Governor General Francis B. Harrison had suggested not bringing over any more female teachers. Apart from the “embarrassing position” which this put the Director of Education in, the gossip “created by the dissatisfied teachers,” Albert declared, was “seriously injuring the system of our public schools.”80 Despite his frustration with the few young women who had gained “newspaper notoriety,” Bewley asserted that the older women teachers were “about the best teachers that we have received” for several years.81 Regardless of how many “young upstarts” were actually plaguing the Director of Education, the perceived difficulties caused by single, young female teachers created a policy shift in the hiring of married men and men with families. In the previous decade, the Bureau of Education had limited the ability of mothers with small children to work as teachers, and began to decline to hire teachers with families in general.82 Yet in 1921, the chief clerk of the BIA noted that he was sending Marquardt a list of eligible men who were not appointed the previous year because they had dependents.83 In 1924, Bewley wrote to the BIA, enclosing a statement from a division superintendent who declared that he did not “want any more unmarried girls here,” and that it would be preferable to have some married couples with children. The high school, the division

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provincial high school, refused the position and demanded an assignment in Manila. E. H. Roberts, “Teachers in the Philippines,” New York Times, May 29, 1924, and Florence Leighton, “Teachers in Philippines,” New York Times, June 4, 1924, folder 3140–133, box 476, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Alejandro Albert, letter to Marquardt, October 21, 1920, folder 470–660-770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Bewley, letter to Marquardt, October 29, 1920, folder 470–660-770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. On the prohibition against young mothers, see Frank R. White, circular no. 103 (s. 1911), August 3, 1911, “Circulars, 1911,” vol. 620, Library Materials; and Bewley, Letter to Marquardt, November 12, 1919, folder 470–660 to 770 Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. For the decision not to appoint men or married couples with children, see G. N. Briggs, “Memorandum Touching on the Matter of the Appointment of Married Men to the Philippine Teaching Service,” March 23, 1914, folder 470, box 87, Classified Files, 1898–1913; and Marquardt, “Memoranda on Various Applicants for Philippine Teaching Service,” November 21, 1917, folder 470–580 to 659, Part I, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. L. V. Carmack, letter to Marquardt, November 18, 1921, folder 470–748 ½, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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superintendent continued, needed “some men to keep it in order,” as there had been “entirely too many women here.” Bewley directed the BIA to hire “as many married couples and as many men as you can.”84 Bewley also expressed concerns about the health of appointed teachers, calling for more rigorous medical examinations, “especially [of] women.” Teachers had been sent to the islands who were in poor health, he declared, and cited the examples of Mrs. Ruby Beall and Miss Mabel Brummitt, both of whom had been cleared by a medical examiner, and neither of whom should have been appointed, as they been ill since their arrival and would probably have to be sent back to the US.85 The argument that the department needed to more carefully screen women’s health in particular tied into previously linked notions of physical and imperial fitness. The ill health of the two female teachers became, in Bewley’s mind, a metaphor for the unfitness of female teachers in general, despite the fact that Mabel Brummitt, at least, got well enough to stay in the islands for many more years.86 Nevertheless, Bewley maintained this bias against single women throughout his tenure as Director of Education, advising a division superintendent on leave in the US in 1932 to appoint only men and married couples.87 Despite this sentiment, women, including single women, continued to be strongly represented in the Bureau of Education.88

       The appointment of African Americans as teachers in the Philippines was also contested and debated during the formative years of colonial education. The official policy of the BIA, as stated frequently in letters 84 85 86

87 88

Bewley, letter to H. E. Cutler, February 23, 1924, folder 470–841 to 932 Part 4, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Bewley, letter to BIA, June 20, 1924, folder 470–841 to 932 Part 4, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Mabel Brummitt did not return home, though Bewley probably later wished that she had, as she became the focal point of a massive student protest in 1930, as discussed in Chapter Seven. Bewley, radiogram to Governor General, January 28, 1932, folder 470–933, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. By September 1928, 213 out of 293 teachers were women. In addition, single women continued to receive appointments in the years before the inauguration of the Philippine Commonwealth. See Twenty-Ninth Annual Report of the Director of Education, for the Calendar Year 1928 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1929), 136–7; and Philippine Public Schools, 1930–1, vol. 677, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA.

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to those interested in working in the Philippines, was that there was “no bar to the examination and appointment of colored men in the Philippines.”89 There does not appear, however, to have been a clear de facto policy for appointing nonwhite teachers. In late December 1900, Booker T. Washington wrote to the War Department to ask what opportunity for service in the Philippines there was for African Americans. In response, the Assistant Secretary of War cited a report prepared by the BIA, which stated: “So far as is known, there is no discrimination made in the appointment of colored or white persons to positions in the islands, the whole matter depending entirely upon the individual record of personal qualifications established by the applicants before the examining board.”90 While a small number of black teachers were appointed, many of whom spent decades in the Philippines, there is no evidence that any new black teachers were appointed after the first decade of colonization.91 The earliest group of teachers was appointed partly by Frederick Atkinson and partly by the presidents of universities and colleges across the US, including the University of California, the University of Michigan, Oberlin College, Yale University, and Cornell University. Whether by design or oversight, the only historically black college given the power to appoint teachers was Hampton Institute, and President H. B. Frissell, at the request of the BIA, appointed two white, male teachers.92 Yale University, however, had asked if there was “any objection to appointing

89

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Frank McIntyre, letter to William Greene, March 14, 1907, folder 1846, box 226, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Folder 1846 contains numerous letters from potential applicants to the civil service in the Philippines, inquiring as to whether they would be considered for employment there. Assistant Secretary of War, letter to Booker T. Washington, January 3, 1901, folder 1846, box 226, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. The confirmed black teachers include Frederick Douglas Bonner, Charlotte Drucilla Stokes Bonner, John Henry Manning Butler, J. F. Hart, W. H. Holder, Thomas Shaffer, W. A. Caldwell, Bedford B. Hunter, Jesse Walker Ratcliffe, Gustavus A. Steward, and Carter G. Woodson. I have also found references to two more African American women teachers, Mary E. Dickerson and May Fitzbutler. As mentioned previously, it is impossible to be sure whether black teachers were appointed after 1910, as no systematic records of the race of teachers were kept. I have not been able to find any evidence that black teachers were appointed after that period, and there is some evidence to suggest that the BIA chose to stop appointing black teachers. Memorandum, undated, folder 1846, box 226, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA; and Fred Atkinson, “Report of the Superintendent of Public Instruction,” Appendix S, Exhibit H, in Annual Report of the Secretary of War, 1901 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1901), 372.

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a colored man,” and the reply from authorities in the Philippines was “send one.”93 The teacher they appointed was Frederick Douglass Bonner, from New Haven, Connecticut, who went to the Philippines in 1901, and was followed by his wife Charlotte Drucilla Stokes Bonner and their daughter, Daisy the next year.94 There was a fair amount of interest in the black community in the United States about opportunities for black teachers, and concern about rumors of being shut out of colonial positions due to racial prejudice. A member of the AME Zion Church, Dr. W. H. Yeocum, wrote to President Theodore Roosevelt in January 1902 to ask about the employment of black men and women as teachers in the islands. In two responses from the BIA, published in the Christian Recorder, Yeocum was informed that black teachers had been appointed in the past, and suggesting that he contact Fred Atkinson if interested in a position.95 John Henry Manning Butler, from North Carolina, lamented that more black teachers had not been employed, but declared that it was not the fault of the Bureau of Education, and that he had “never seen less exhibition of race prejudice than in the administration of affairs of this department.” The blame, Butler continued, lay with black teachers themselves, noting that he had not indicated that he would accept the position in the islands until “the date set for application had passed.”96 Butler’s defense of the educational system may have been prompted by articles concerned about racial prejudice in black newspapers at home. Given that 93 94

95 96

Memorandum, undated, folder 1846, box 226, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. See folder 4359, box 381, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA; “Frederick Douglass Bonner,” Thomas Yenser, ed., Who’s Who in Colored America: A Biographical Dictionary of Notable Living Persons of African Descent in America, third edition (Brooklyn: Thomas Yenser, 1932), 43; and Charlotte D. Bonner, “A Glimpse of the World,” unpublished speech, from the private collection of Dale Murphy. The Bonners were stationed in Subic, Zambales Province, Luzon, where Fred became the supervising teacher, and where Charlotte also began teaching in June, 1905, becoming the head of the Central School of Subic, and a teacher of domestic science for the entire division. In 1912, the family was transferred to Masbate, where Fred became the principal of the Intermediate School, and Charlotte continued to teach domestic science. Official Roster of the Bureau of Education, Corrected to March 1, 1906 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1906), 28; and Charles H. Magee, letter to J. G. Collicott, November 6, 1915, “Frederick Douglas Bonner,” box 70, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA; and Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands, 1912–13. “Colored Teachers in the Philippines,” Christian Recorder, February 13, 1902, 3. Observer, “The Filipino: His Country and Customs,” Star of Zion, November 13, 1902, 2.

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he was willing to openly discuss discrimination in Manila in his other writings, however, it seems reasonable that Butler’s contention that the Bureau was not prejudiced was a heartfelt one. And his claim may have been roughly true as far as colonial educational officials went. Atkinson, Bryan, and Barrows were willing to appoint and work with black teachers. For Barrows, as discussed above, the question of college training, and the social polish and vigor it provided, was clearly the most important factor in his perception of teachers’ qualifications. Despite the appointment of several black teachers, however, the policy of appointing African Americans to the Philippines was neither uniform nor consistent, and there appear to have been differences between the various levels of colonial administration. In late September 1903, Colonel Clarence Edwards, head of the BIA, cabled to Taft, “One of the teachers certified is a negro. What do you desire?” Taft replied, “Filipinos object to negro school teachers; think it bad policy to appoint them.”97 The black teacher referred to in this correspondence was almost certainly Carter G. Woodson.98 Presumably, therefore, Barrows appointed Woodson either without knowing or caring that he was African American. When Edwards discovered the fact, he cabled Taft to find out what he wanted to be done, but by that point, it was too late. Woodson received his letter shortly after Taft’s cable back to Edwards advising against the appointment; to withdraw the offer of employment at that point would have risked bad press in the black papers.99 Barrows also appointed Jesse W. Ratcliffe, a graduate of Fisk University, in 1907, while he was in the United States on vacation.100 Given the personal interviews he conducted 97 98 99

100

Memorandum, 1903, box 226, folder 1846, in RG 350, NARA. It is unclear on what evidence Taft based this claim, and black teachers almost certainly would have refuted it. Carter G. Woodson, letter to Edwards, October 17, 1903, folder 8898, box 533, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. The black press was clearly paying attention to the issue of civil service appointments in the new insular possessions. The Colored American called for the appointment of African Americans in the Philippines and Puerto Rico on more than one occasion. In 1912, A. W. Seward sent a clipping from the New York Evening Mail to President Theodore Roosevelt, that contained a letter to the editor claiming that the practice of requiring photographs with applications to the Philippine civil service was meant to bar black men from employment. The letter was forwarded to the BIA, which denied the accusation made in the letter. See “We Would Like to See,” The Colored American, May 18, 1901, 3; “We Would Like to Know,” The Colored American, October 11, 1902, 7; A. W. Seward, letter to President Roosevelt, August 4, 1912, folder 1846, box 226, RG 350, NARA; and McIntyre, letter to Seward, August 7, 1912, folder 1846, box 226, RG 350, NARA. Barrows, letter to Edwards, March 28, 1907, folder 470, box 85, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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and Ratcliffe’s educational training, it seems certain that in this instance Barrows would have been aware that he was appointing a black man to the teaching service. While Edwards and Taft may have had reservations about appointing black teachers, then, it appears that Barrows did not. Part of the irregularity in the appointment of black teachers may have been due to the partitioning of responsibility for the appointment of teachers. Once the BIA began appointing at least some teachers, its officers were able to make their own decisions about whether to hire African Americans. At least one black male applicant was actively discouraged by the BIA from teaching in the Philippines. In April of 1910, Charles C. Carter wrote to Edwards, declaring that “some years ago” Edwards had persuaded Carter, who had passed a civil service exam to become a teacher in the Philippines, to accept another position in the War Department, as “being a colored man,” his appointment in the islands “at that time might have been embarrassing to some one.”101 Either because of personal prejudice, or because of his conviction that some civilian officials would not approve, Edwards clearly did not want to appoint black teachers. Yet the BIA also seemed to have done some recruiting of teachers at black colleges. In November of 1910, George A. Gates, the President of Fisk University, wrote to the bureau that he had received a bulletin calling for teachers for the Philippines, and asking for verification that black applicants “are desired or would be accepted.”102 Frank McIntyre, the Assistant to the Chief of the BIA, responded that anyone who met the requirements outlined in the bulletin would be admitted for examination, and appointments would be made based on civil service policies with “due consideration being given to the suitability of the individuals for the particular vacancies existing.”103 It seems, therefore, that there was no clear policy on appointing nonwhite teachers in the Philippines, even within the BIA. Despite the ostensible objectivity of civil service examinations, appointments were actually made by taking into account the examination grade, professional qualifications, and more amorphous judgments of character. In one letter to a potential African American applicant, McIntyre declared that everyone who met the requirements would be 101 102

103

Charles C. Carter, letter to Edwards, April 18, 1910, folder 2, box 8, Clarence R. Edwards Papers [hereafter Edwards Papers], Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston. George A. Gates, letter to BIA, November 21, 1910, folder 1846, box 226, RG 350, NARA. Gates noted that there was some evidence that black teachers would be appointed, as he had seen the name of a graduate of Fisk University in the catalog he enclosed. This is certainly Jesse Walker Ratcliffe, who graduated in 1906. McIntyre, letter to Gates, November 23, 1910, folder 1846, box 226, RG 350, NARA.

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admitted to the examinations, “without respect to whether they are white or colored.” However, he continued, in “going among an alien race it is found that it is very desirable and almost necessary that the American teachers . . . should be persons of liberal education as well as high character.” It was, he concluded, therefore often “practicable to use the service of a man of University training where another man with a limited education and the same amount of experience could not be used.”104 The preference for a university degree from a prestigious institution and the connections and references that such an education would entail would have necessarily limited the number of black candidates that would have been considered for appointment. In addition, the BIA required the submission of a photograph with each application, and made “confidential inquiries . . . in order to have full and definite knowledge of the persons before appointing them.”105 While this did not prevent the hiring of black teachers, it would have influenced the selection of appointees based on their perceived character, class, and connections, as it did with the hiring of white teachers. Finally, political changes at home may have affected decisions on the appointment of black teachers to the Philippine service. After Woodrow Wilson’s inauguration in 1913, federal positions and offices quickly became segregated, and black Americans found themselves shut out of employment opportunities in the federal government. Even as the number of American teachers was dropping due to Filipinization, it is also possible that black teachers were excluded from empire as part of the Jim Crow ethos embraced by the Wilson administration.106 While the BIA, CSC, and Bureau of Education continued to deny the existence of bias against black teachers, rumors of discrimination persisted throughout the period of colonial administration.107 In 1920, Bewley was willing to rehire Fred and Charlotte Bonner, who had retired in 1914, though it also appears that Marquardt was not certain that he would wish to do so. While serving as an educational agent, Marquardt 104 105 106

107

McIntyre, letter to Melvin Hunter, February 11, 1908, folder 1846, box 226, RG 350, NARA. McIntyre, letter to A. W. Seward, August 7, 1912, folder 1846, box 226, RG 350, NARA. For more on the segregation of the federal government under Wilson, see Kathleen J. Wolgemuth, “Woodrow Wilson and Federal Segregation,” The Journal of Negro History 44, no. 2 (April 1959): 158–73, and Nicholas Patler, Jim Crow and the Wilson Administration: Protesting Federal Segregation in the Early Twentieth Century (Boulder: University Press of Colorado, 2004). See folder 1846, box 226, Classified Files, 1898–1913; and folder 1846, box 337, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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sent a cable to Bewley, noting: “Teacher shortage acute. Do you desire reinstatement Bonners?”108 This hesitance, of course, could have been due to the fact that, in 1920, the Bureau of Education was not appointing married couples as a general rule, rather than any concern about the Bonners’ race. The Bonners were appointed, though they declined the positions because the salaries were lower than in the United States.109 Yet rumors of unequal treatment persisted sufficiently to prompt Captain T. N. McKinney, a former soldier and current vice-president and general manager of the Philippines American Company in Manila, to write to Marquardt asking about the allegations that “colored American teachers, have not been given the encouragement, nor consideration accorded others.”110 In his response, Marquardt declared that teacher appointments were “handled as individual cases.” Without knowing specifics, moreover, he stated that the civil service exams were open to everyone “possessing satisfactory age and health requirements together with required training and experience.” Marquardt concluded by noting that of the 1,400 applicants the previous year, only sixty-six teachers were appointed.111 This answer is quite similar to that typically given by the BIA, though Marquardt’s assertion that the appointments were handled as “individual cases” was probably accurate. The consideration and treatment a black applicant to the teaching service received appears to have depended largely on which colonial bureau or official was making the appointment. The early heads of the Bureau of Education seem to have been much more willing to view black teachers as “fit” participants in empire than the BIA. This fitness, of course, was still predicated on other factors, including both educational attainments and perceptions about class, social graces, and personal vigor.

       Besides determining which Americans were fit to include in empire, civil service regulations also constructed and maintained boundaries between 108 109 110 111

Marquardt, cablegram to Bewley, March 18, 1920, folder 470–660 to 770 Part I, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Marquardt, letter to Bewley, May 21, 1920, folder 470–660-770 Part I, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. T. N. McKinney, letter to Marquardt, July 28, 1921, folder 1846–18, box 337, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Marquardt, letter to McKinney, August 17, 1921, folder 1846–18, box 337, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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Filipinos and Americans in the islands. Filipinos who were appointed to the teaching service were designated “Filipino teachers,” and paid significantly less than American teachers (though significantly more than municipal teachers). In 1905, American teachers were being paid from $900 to $2,000 annually, with the mean salary being $1,200. Insular Filipino teachers, by contrast, were being paid from $240 to $600 per year.112 While some Filipino employees taking over positions from Americans in the early years of colonial government had demanded and received the same salaries, both Washburn and Barrows argued that this was an unsustainable practice. In his report for 1907, Washburn cited an article Barrows had written in which he declared that despite the apparent “recognition of equality” paying Americans and Filipinos the same might indicate, this policy was “impossible.” Americans were paid large salaries, “practically double what their services would command in the United States,” he claimed, because it was necessary to attract “first-class” employees to accept employment in foreign service. “The proper compensation for a Filipino in the Philippine Islands,” he concluded, “should certainly not be higher” than what would be paid to an American in the US. Instead, Filipino employees should receive salaries comparable to what they would be paid in private companies in the islands.113 The source of conflict, then, was on what basis salaries were to be allocated. Filipinos made the argument that they ought to receive equal salaries to their American counterparts for doing similar work. In contrast, Barrows and other insular officials argued that the high salaries paid to Americans were only necessary in order to attract qualified employees to accept service in a far-flung country, and that this inducement was not required for Filipino employees, who were not leaving their home country. Once Filipinos began to earn degrees from American colleges and universities, the distinction in salary began to seem even more arbitrary and unfair. In 1922, Marquardt, then the supervisor of pensionados in the United States, wrote to the Director of Education to ask what salary range he could offer the returning students. He noted that graduates of the University of the Philippines were earning ₱1,200 a year, and those with master’s degrees were getting ₱1,320. He was concerned that the

112 113

“The Bureau of Education: A Statement of Organization and Aims Published for General Information,” 2. Washburn, “Report of the Director of Civil Service,” in Seventh Annual Report of the Philippine Bureau of Civil Service for the Year Ended June 30, 1907 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1908), 120–1.

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proposed salaries for pensionados were lower, declaring that it would be in the best interests of the teaching service to pay those who had studied abroad and improved their English more than those who had never left the islands and had less teaching experience.114 Beside the question of what pensionados would be paid as opposed to their peers who remained at home, some Filipino students clearly began to question the system of classifying them separately from Americans educated in the US. In 1924, the Appointment Secretary at Stanford University wrote to the BIA to ask about pay scales, after being informed by a Filipino student that there was a distinction in salaries paid.115 In response, she was informed that the salary schedule had not yet been set for that year, but that it was likely to be a minimum of ₱1,800, and would be determined after examining graduates’ credentials.116 This seems to indicate that pensionados began receiving slightly higher salaries than their peers educated in the Philippines, though still only about 60 percent of the earnings of the lowest-paid Americans.117 The question of classification grew even thornier when Filipinos were able to claim American status. In the spring of 1928, W. L. Nida, of the State Teachers College in San Diego, wrote to the Bureau of Education in Manila to ask about the status of a Filipino student at that institution. The student was a naturalized American citizen, had served in the military, and would graduate from the college with a bachelor’s degree and certificate to teach in California. The young man, Nida continued, wished to return to the Philippines, and wanted to know whether he would be classified as an American for the purposes of salary. Nida noted that he had written to the department previously and received no reply.118 114

115 116 117 118

Marquardt, letter to Bewley, May 20, 1922, and Letter Marquardt to Bewley, October 26, 1922, folder 470–660-770, Part II, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. The colonial government began sending Filipino students to study in the United States in 1903. For more on the pensionado program, see Chapter Five. Elizabeth B. Snell, letter to Charles C. Walcutt, January 16, 1924, folder 3140–139, box 477, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. William Lay Patterson, letter to Elizabeth B. Snell, January 22, 1924, folder 3140–139, box 477, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. “Philippine Islands – Teachers’ Salaries in Pesos,” folder 3140–139, box 476, Classified Files, 1914–1945, RG 350, NARA. W. L. Nida, letter to Bureau of Education, May 12, 1928, folder 3140–133, box 476, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. It would have been possible for the young man to naturalize as an American, despite prior legislation restricting this privilege to whites and peoples of African descent, because of a law passed in May 1918, designed to recruit Filipinos into the armed services during World War I. Despite previous laws that left the question of whether military service negated the racial restrictions on citizenship

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Some weeks later, David A. Gilito, also of San Diego, wrote to the BIA for information about the same person. He noted that the young man had served in the navy from 1918 to 1923, and had taken out naturalization papers, to which he was entitled because of his military service. Gilito requested know whether this man would be classified as a Filipino or an American if he returned to the islands to teach, and whether he would “draw as much salary as an American” in the same position.119 A few days after Gilito wrote his letter, the Bureau of Education responded to Nida. Bewley replied that decisions about employment and salary could “be best determined” after an applicant had arrived in the islands and been interviewed.120 About a week later, the assistant to the head of the BIA wrote to Gilito that the decision would be made by Philippine authorities rather than by their office. The letter continued that the question of the status of a Filipino who had become an American citizen had never before come up, and while Filipinos had previously been appointed to civil service positions while in the US, it had always been at the lower salary. Finally, the assistant noted that residence in the islands would not count as residence within the US for the purposes of naturalization, and that if a “Filipino should return to the Islands before he had completed his naturalization process, it could not be completed in the Philippines.”121 If civil service regulations were intended to establish an absolute barrier between Americans and Filipinos, the presence of a Filipino who had become an American (or at least who was on his way to becoming an American) presented a real challenge to the bureaucratic construction of difference by the colonial state. If part of the early justification for the different salary schedules was the superior education of teachers trained

119

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ambiguous, this law stated that Filipinos and Puerto Ricans who had served in the military were eligible for naturalization. Deenesh Sohoni and Amin Vafa, “The Fight to Be American: Military Naturalization and Asian Citizenship,” Asian American Law Journal 17, no. 1 (January 2010): 142. David A. Gilito, letter to Bureau of Insular Affairs, June 5, 1928, folder 3140–113, box 476, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Despite writing in the third person, it seems likely that Gilito is in fact writing on his own behalf. Gilito himself had served in the US Navy, and graduated from the State Teachers’ College in 1930. See 1920 United States Federal Census, microfilm T625, RG 29, NARA, Ancestry.com; and Del Sudoeste, 1930, Special Collections and University Archives, San Diego State University, accessed November 1, 2016, http://library.sdsu.edu/scua/digital/resources/sdsu-yearbooks. Bewley, letter to W. L. Nida, June 8, 1928, folder 3140–113, box 476, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Orval P. Townshend, letter to Gilito, June 16, 1928, folder 3140–113, box 476, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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in American institutions, Filipino students who obtained degrees in the United States should theoretically have access to the higher salaries. If the differentiation was instead based on citizenship, then a naturalized American ought to be eligible for that status as well. By using the opportunities presented by the colonial state in order to ensure collaboration and Americanization, Filipino students and teachers were able to challenge the distinctions and hierarchies upon which its power rested. The Bureau of Education and the BIA, however, did their best to uphold the separate classification of Americans and Filipinos. Indeed, to do anything else would have required a massively increased government budget. Equally important, it would have broken down the hierarchy that placed Americans above Filipinos, undermining the ideological justification for colonization. Filipinos gained access to higher positions within the colonial government in response to Governor General Harrison’s policy of Filipinization, and especially after the passage of the Jones Act. The number of Filipino Division Superintendents steadily increased, from one in 1915 to fifteen by 1933.122 At the same time, however, the Bureau of Education continued to distinguish teachers by nationality. In addition, it increased the separation of American and Filipino students by opening the Central School, a public school for the children of American citizens, in 1914. In its administration, the Bureau of Education de-emphasized barriers of race and class in order to uphold barriers of nationality. In determining admissibility to the school, the only factor of importance was at least one American parent. In the early 1930s, in the context of anger over racial violence against Filipinos in the US, school protests against prejudiced teachers, and the continuing push for independence, the Central School, seen as a symbol of colonial oppression and racial prejudice, became a target of elite Filipino resentment. The pressure became such that Governor General Nicholas Roosevelt urged the Secretary of Public Instruction to open the school to all students who wanted to attend.123 In response to the criticism, the

122

123

Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands, 1914–29, vols. 786–7, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. Disparities in salaries remained until after the inauguration of the Philippine Commonwealth. “No Race Distinction at Central School,” Mindanao Herald, June 11, 1932, folder 19861– 20, box 928, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. It appears that Roosevelt may have carried his point. In a blog on prewar Manila, Lou Gopal writes that the Central School desegregated in 1932. Lewis Gleeck also notes that certain elite families were allowed entrance to the Central School, and that after World War II, Central was reopened as a school for Filipino children. Lou Gopal, “My Alma Mater – the American School, Inc.,” Manila Nostalgia, accessed November 11, 2016, www.lougopal.com/manila/?p=3237; and

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principal “emphatically denied that the barrier of admission to Central School was one of race or color.” The only bar for admission, she declared, was nationality, and “brunettes of the darkest type in the person of children of American Negro parentage” had been enrolled, while Filipino citizens as well as “Norwegians and Scandinavians, the fairest blondes,” had been rejected.124 As the administration of the Central School focused on national identity as the only necessary and sufficient condition for enrollment, then, the distinction of race was dismissed. This is not surprising, given the calculus of empire, under which the highest marker of status and superiority was whether one qualified as an American or not. While the Central School sought to maintain national barriers, of course, the role of Americans in the Philippines was about to begin winding down, as Filipino employees replaced Americans under the government of the new Philippine Commonwealth.125 As Filipinos passed through the American educational system, supposedly preparing themselves for civilized self-government, more of them began to challenge the barriers that separated Americans and Filipinos. By arguing that those in the same positions or with degrees from the same institutions as Americans deserved equal consideration and remuneration, Filipinos challenged the fundamental assumptions of empire, which

124

125

Lewis E. Gleeck, Jr., The Manila Americans (1901–64) (Manila: Carmel & Bauermann, Inc., 1977), 154–8, 194. “Central Row is Not Racial: Citizenship Determines Eligibility; Protests are Raised,” Manila Bulletin, June 11, 1932, folder 3725-A-32, box 512, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. The Central School appears to have been criticized on both sides for its admission policy. Even as elite Filipinos were outraged at the exclusiveness of the institution, some white Americans felt that it was not selective enough. The history of the private American International School provided on its alumni website claims that their school was founded in 1920 because of the belief that the “all-American character of Central was being diluted” by American–Filipino mestizos. “The American School – History – Chapter I: 1898–1919,” American & International School Alumni Association of Manila, accessed November 1, 2016, www.aisaam.org/history/as-history2.htm. In a bulletin for the American School published for the 1939–40 school year, it was clearly stated that the school was for “children of Caucasian parentage.” Bulletin of the American School, Inc., of Manila, Philippines (Manila: Sugar News Press, 1939), folder 26869, box 1163, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. The American Chamber of Commerce in Manila also pushed hard to restrict the Central School for the education of Americans preparing to go to university in the US, as a justification for excluding mestizos. “Resolutions of the Chamber,” The American Chamber of Commerce Journal 1, no. 5 (October 1921): 15–16. See also, “Director of Education Evades American School Issue,” The American Chamber of Commerce Journal 1, no. 7 (December 1921): 13, 30.

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placed colonizers above a native populace. Questioning and pushing the legal boundaries between national identities became one of the many ways in which Filipinos challenged the colonial system and drove a movement to gain, little by little, increased control over their own lives, education, and government.

 The BIA, the Civil Service Commission, the Civil Service Board, and the Bureau of Education in Manila attempted to define fitness for the teaching service throughout the colonial period. Individual policymakers, however, often could not agree on what specific traits were most desirable, or even on the best way to determine eligibility. Barrows, for example, wanted to appoint on a case-by-case basis, determining fitness through individual evaluation. Washburn, in contrast, believed that competitive examination was the best way to find quality teachers, untainted by the exercise of personal influence. Given the fractured (and fractious) nature of examinations and teacher appointments, individual choice played a large role in determining whether a specific applicant would receive a position or not. At the end of the day, this meant that the teaching service became, perhaps inadvertently, more diverse than was originally intended. While many young, college-educated white men were appointed as teachers, white women (including single women), as well as black men and women also gained access to teaching positions. Of course, these teachers also could just as easily be excluded through the exercise of individual choice. The Bureau of Education and the Civil Service Board often clashed over which Americans were eligible to be examined and appointed. Yet both bureaus agreed on rigid distinctions of nationality. Even as Directors of Education were willing to bend or change civil service regulations to obtain teachers who matched their notions of fitness, they attempted to uphold the sharp division between the positions of American and Filipino teachers. This, of course, was not merely a question of aptitude for colonial service, but went to the heart of the project of empire itself. This separation was about maintaining the foundations upon which the colonial state was built: the inherent superiority of Americans over Filipinos. For Filipinos and Americans to be classified in the same way would undercut the assumption that there was an inherent and immutable difference between the two. If Filipinos could serve equally well in positions marked for Americans, it was but a short step to imagining that perhaps the Americans were not necessary after all.

3 Professionals and Pioneers Teachers’ Self-Depiction in Empire*

While sailing along the coast of Iloilo to her teaching station in September 1901, Philinda Rand declared that at times she “might easily have imagined that we were taking a trip along the coast of Maine,” when suddenly the boat “would pass an island covered with cocoanut trees and a naked savage strolling along the sand and we were all Robinson Crusoes.”1 Oliver George Wolcott echoed this sentiment when, in his senior year at Stanford University, he saw a notice posted announcing an examination for Philippine teachers. As a boy, Wolcott noted, he had “reveled in the story of Robinson Crusoe” and the story of the Ancient Mariner and thought that this might be his chance “to see an albatross, or the islands that Stevenson and Stoddard made so pleasant.” An additional enticement was the knowledge that several “Stanford men had gone out that way” and some had “become famous,” including Herbert Hoover.2 These statements reveal much about the way that American teachers understood their experiences in the Philippines. Primed by journalistic *

1

2

Sections of this chapter have been published in the article, “‘We Were All Robinson Crusoes’: American Women Teachers in the Philippines,” Women’s Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal 41, no. 4 (2012): 372–92. Philinda Rand, undated letter [1901], folder 8, Philinda Rand Anglemyer Papers [hereafter Rand Anglemyer Papers], Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute. William Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe was extraordinarily popular during this period, and had been since its publication in 1719. Indeed, it had been reprinted and translated more than any other book by the end of the nineteenth century. See Ian Watt, “Robinson Crusoe as a Myth,” Essays in Criticism 1, no. 2 (April 1951): 95–119. Oliver George Wolcott, “My Philippine Experiences, 1904–1907 and 1908–1909,” p. 1, folder 3, Oliver George Wolcott Papers [hereafter Wolcott Papers], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.

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and literary accounts of the tropics, teachers were able to insert themselves into long-established narratives of exploration and colonization, and to articulate expectations of what their colonial role would be. The dual motivation – a chance to both live out the fantasy of tropical adventure and advance professionally – was common in the teachers who sought positions in the Philippines. American teachers came to the Philippines with clear expectations of what it would mean to teach within empire. They anticipated opportunities to earn and save money, to advance professionally faster and farther than they might at home, to have imperial adventures, and to reimagine and reinvent themselves through the lens of colonial tropes. Using race, gender, and national identities to reinforce their claims to authority, these teachers sought to construct colonial identities that would not have been possible in the US. Some of this self-representation was clearly intended for public consumption – some teachers wrote, and some published, memoirs and accounts of their time in the Philippines; others wrote letters to newspapers and periodicals back home (though, as noted in Chapter 2, teachers became more careful about what they put in public letters in the first few years of colonial education). Some teachers clearly intended their correspondence to remain at least somewhat private, even as they expected that letters home would be circulated among family and friends. While memoirs and other public accounts seem to have engaged more explicitly with heroic literary narratives of exploration, even private letters are striking in the degree to which teachers depicted themselves as professionals and adventurers. Empire also afforded the opportunity for all teachers, male and female, white and black, to depict themselves as ideal colonizers, fit for a position in colonial education. At the center of a trifecta of colonial power based on race, gender, and national identity, white male teachers used their position to assert identities as archetypical colonial professionals and adventurers, and to claim a special knowledge of Filipinos and conditions in the islands. White female teachers used their race and nationality to push back against the notion that empire was a man’s work, and to present themselves in much the same way that white men did. Rather than resorting to tropes of maternalism or domesticity to justify their presence in empire, white women more often portrayed themselves as living strenuously. Black male teachers also used their positions within empire to depict themselves as brave and effective colonizers, and to claim inclusion in American citizenship and civilization along with special status within the civilizing mission as the best suited to carry out racial uplift and Americanization.

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  Despite the lofty rhetoric surrounding the educational mission, for most of the teachers the decision to embark for the Philippines was informed by multiple personal considerations. A large motivating factor was financial – teachers in the Philippines were earning salaries from $900 to $1,500 a year in 1901, though the higher salaries were reserved for those with advanced degrees and many years of experience. This was more than twice what teachers in the US could expect to earn in a year.3 Some of the male teachers also recorded investing in burgeoning industries such as mining and hemp, buying plantations, or becoming involved in exporting goods such as embroidery.4 This sort of investment, of course, required some initial capital, which many of the teachers did not possess. “It makes me grit my teeth,” Herbert Priestley complained, “to see what I could do with a few hundred dollars if I only had it, so I think that when I learn more about hemp I will begin to make money in a small way.”5 Most of

3

4

5

“Report of the Commissioner for Education,” in Annual Reports of the Department of the Interior for the Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1901, vol. 1 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1902) LXXXV. Many of the teachers seem to have cherished dreams of making their fortune in the Philippines. See Peter J. Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites: American School Teachers in Philippine Colonial Society, 1901–1913” (PhD diss., Cornell University, 2006), 327–8; Herbert Ingram Priestley, letter to Mother, August 16, 1901, folder 1, Herbert Ingram Priestley Letters, 1901–4 [hereafter Priestley Letters], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley; Blaine Free Moore, diary entry, August 15, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Blaine Free Moore Papers [hereafter Moore Papers], Library of Congress, Washington, DC; Herbert D. Fisher, Philippine Diary (New York: Vantage Press, 2005); American Foreign Service, “Report of the Death of an American Citizen,” November 24, 1947, John Henry Manning Butler, Ancestry.com; and “Bosoc Gold Mining Company to Sell Shares,” Industrial and Machinery Journal 8, no. 8 (August 1937): 25. Most of the teachers do not seem to have followed through with plans to invest, and those who did make investments do not seem to have had much success. Blaine Free Moore tried to start a mining company with a miner he met in the islands, but he complained continually of setbacks. Herbert D. Fisher bought a plantation, which was later destroyed during a 1906 Pulajan uprising. By becoming involved in industrial and vocational education, however, Fisher did position himself well to transition to a commercial exporting firm later on. Theodosius D. Anglemyer, who married Philinda Rand, bought property that he and Rand were living on after their marriage, though it is not clear that the land ever provided much money. John Henry Manning Butler purchased a rice plantation at some point during his tenure in the islands, and began a gold mining company in the 1930s. Women were also alive to the financial opportunities of empire, though they did not often record a desire to invest in burgeoning industries as many young male teachers did. H.I. Priestley, letter to Mommy, October 6, 1901, folder 3, Priestley Letters.

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the teachers, though, focused on saving as much of their teaching salary as possible, in order to pay off debts or return home with substantial funds. Many also saw going to the Philippines as a shrewd professional move. Philinda Rand noted that many of the white male teachers were also ambitious young men, eager to rise in the world. “Most of the men here,” she asserted, “are either young college men who are teaching as a stepping stone or old men who have made failures of themselves at home.”6 While Rand’s comments were probably an exaggeration, it is true that many of the young men who came to the Philippines to teach looked to a future career beyond primary or secondary education. Some aspired to rise through the ranks of the Bureau of Education or hoped to transfer to another civil service position, while others sought positions in private firms and companies. Herbert Ingram Priestly recorded Frank Crone’s conviction that the islands were “a crucible where the stuff in folks is going to show later on for something better,” expressing his faith that his teaching position would lead to professional and financial success down the road.7 Teaching in empire did allow teachers to build a network of colonial contacts that they hoped would help them advance. Almost as soon as the first large group of teachers boarded the USAT Thomas, they began to create state and university organizations.8 Male teachers (both black and white) also utilized fraternal organizations to make connections with other teachers, civilian officials, and members of the military. Blaine Free Moore noted that the Masons, to which he belonged, and the Order of the Eastern Star were organizing on board the Thomas and in Manila.9 Moore was assigned to Cataingan, on the island of Masbate, and reported that his new superintendent, H. G. Squier, was also a Mason, with “a great many Masons in his division.” Squier promised to “do his 6 7

8 9

Rand, letter to Katie, July 31, 1904, folder 18, Rand Anglemyer Papers. H.I. Priestley, letter to Mother, March 9, 1903, folder 20, Priestley Letters. This certainly seemed to hold true for Frank Crone himself, who rose to become to Director of Education in 1913. These organizations are listed in Ronald P. Gleason, ed., The Log of the Thomas (Manila: N.P., 1901), 43–5. Moore, diary entries, July 27, 1901, July 29, 1901, and September 4, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Moore Papers. The Order of the Eastern Stars was an organization for Masons as well as women related to Masons, and was focused on charity work. Moore noted that there were forty-one Masons and ten Eastern Stars on board the Thomas, though he did not specify whether these latter were men or women. While several women mention joining state or university associations, I have not found any evidence that sororal organizations were particularly important to the female teachers.

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very best” for Moore and Francis Hemenway, another Mason stationed in the same town.10 Male teachers viewed such personal connections made en route to the Philippines as an important stepping-stone to professional advancement. While many white male teachers did advance professionally, becoming principals, supervising teachers, district superintendents, and mid- to high-level officials within the Bureau of Education and other departments in the colonial service, others recorded disappointment at their failure to rise according to their expectations. In November 1901, Harry Cole reported his aggravation with the living conditions, his inability to save money, and the work itself. “The more I see of things here,” he declared, “the more convinced I am that the bringing of us teachers over here was a huge political deal.” He continued, “it makes one smile to think that only college graduates and experienced teachers are wanted over here,” as the work was overwhelmingly primary language instruction.11 Harry Cole also became increasingly frustrated with the stagnation in his chemistry work, and repeatedly wished to be back at the University of Michigan, if he could only earn there what he received in the Philippines.12 His wife, Mary Cole, wrote in early 1902 that Harry had tried to get into chemistry work in Manila, but that Dr. Atkinson was not accepting the resignation of any teacher for the purpose of taking other civil employment.13 Herbert Priestley also became disheartened with his lack of professional progress. While he wrote in November 1902 that he and Bess were both “quite well and hearty,” by July 1903, Priestley reported that he was the “only primary teacher in Caceres” (presumably he means the only American primary teacher), and that “all the rest have gone, or move up but me.” As a result, he was feeling “quite discouraged” and felt “little interest in the work.”14 He also complained in November 1903 that he 10 11 12

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14

Moore, letter to Pa and Ma, September 3, 1901, folder 1, box 1, Moore Papers. Harry Cole, letter to Leon, October 21, 1901, folder 3, Harry and Mary Cole Papers [hereafter Cole Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. H. Cole, letter to Mother, September 12, 1901, folder 2; H. Cole, letter to Mother, October 20, 1901, folder 3; and H. Cole, letter to Mother, November 18, 1901, folder 3, Cole Papers. Despite his griping about his inability to save money, therefore, it seems that he was aware that he was earning more than he would back home. Mary Cole, letter to Dear Folks at Home, February 9, 1902; and M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks at Home, March 16, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers. By this point many other teachers had seized the opportunity to earn a good wage in cosmopolitan Manila rather than slogging away at teaching in the provinces. H. I. Priestley, letter to Mommy, November 23, 1902, folder 16; and H.I. Priestley, letter to Mother, July 5, 1903, folder 24, Priestley Letters.

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and Bess had not been able to save as much money as they had hoped, and that the American teachers (himself included) were becoming disaffected with the government.15 The next year, Priestley noted jealously that while he had “heard nothing of my application for a raise and transfer,” Frank Crone had been appointed superintendent of the division, and seemed to be “favored of the gods and men.”16 Even white male teachers with personal connections to educational officials were not guaranteed advancement. Moore was promised by H. G. Squier, his superintendent and fellow Mason, that he would be appointed the superintendent of Masbate and Tiraco. The position, however, was given to another man.17 Deservedly or not, many other teachers reported feeling badly treated by the Bureau of Education and discouraged with the project of education. White male teachers dissatisfied with their professional progress at times explained their failure to advance in racial terms. When Harry Cole was again passed over for promotion to Acting Superintendent in early 1904, Mary surmised that this snub was because Harry was not “popular enough with the natives and not enough of a ‘Nigger Chaser.’”18 Mary’s use of this phrase is telling. Frustrated with Harry’s failure to advance professionally, Mary attributed this failure to the fact that Harry refused to ingratiate himself to Filipinos, and framed this decision through a common epithet from the US used to denigrate those who seemed disposed to view African Americans as, if not equals, then at least possessing rights. Harry’s lack of success, under this interpretation, was the result of racial pride and the tendency of the Bureau of Education to put too much emphasis on popularity with Filipinos, rather than of his own personal shortcomings.

15

16 17 18

H. I. Priestley, letter to Mother, November 1, 1903; H. I. Priestley, letter to Ethel, November 15, 1903; H. I. Priestley, letter to Mommy, November 16, 1903; and H. I. Priestley, letter to Mommy, November 19, 1903, folder 27, Priestley Letters. H. I. Priestley, letter to Mommy, March 6, 1904, folder 31, Priestley Letters. Moore, letter to Brother, January 20, 1902, folder 2, box 1, Moore Papers. M. Cole, letter to Mother, February 22, 1904, folder 11, Cole Papers. The Coles’ relationship with the Filipino community of Palo, and Harry Cole’s particular failure to win lasting respect and friendship, will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6. Blaine Free Moore also used this language to deprecate the goal of winning the support of Filipinos. Noting that William H. Taft’s successor as Governor General, Luke Wright, was viewed with suspicion by Filipinos, Moore surmised that it was because he was from the South and therefore not a “nigger lover.” Moore, letter to Pa and Ma, October 20, 1903, folder 5, box 1, Moore Papers.

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Teachers feeling betrayed by their lack of advancement often expressed their frustration by claiming a position of superior knowledge and perspective on the real conditions in the islands and the true Filipino character. White male teachers claimed that both government officials in the Philippines as well as people back home did not really know or understand the Filipino as they did after living among them. Ralph Kent Buckland claimed that no “American occupying a high official position ever has the chance of seeing a Filipino town as it really is, or of seeing the native officials in their routine work, or of seeing the average native under the influence of his ordinary temperament,” because as soon as it was known (and it was always known) that officials were coming to visit a town, municipal officers put on an elaborate show.19 Harry Cole also criticized the rosy view that the civil government and those in the US held of Filipinos.20 People at home, he declared, “can say all they please about our relations to these Filipinos, but they do not know the conditions nor the people.” Only “the civilians who deal with all classes and not simply the best of what there is here,” he concluded, could really “learn these people.”21 Significantly, both white women, particularly those who were single, and black teachers recorded much less professional dissatisfaction in their personal and public papers. This may be partially due to the fact that there seems to have been less of an expectation of a meteoric rise within the civil service among these teachers, perhaps resulting from the limitations on women’s and African Americans’ professional advancement in the US. Of course, some white women and black men did achieve high positions within the educational system, but the fact that they were less likely to expect such advancement probably accounts for the lower rate of griping about salary and promotions. Most white female and black teachers did not expect to become division superintendents or principals of their provincial high schools, at least not within a few years, and seemed happy to be recognized as useful and effective by the townspeople

19

20 21

Ralph Kent Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino (New York: Everywhere Publishing Company, 1912), 216. This frustration was also often expressed in criticism of Governor Taft as either hopelessly naïve or shamelessly political in his treatment of Filipinos. See, for example, M. Cole, Letter to Dear Folks at Home, April 16, 1902, folder 6, Cole Papers. H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, May 26, 1902, folder 6; and H. Cole, letter to Mother, April 30, 1903, folder 10, Cole Papers. H. Cole, letter to Mother, April 30, 1903, folder 10, Cole Papers.

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and officials around them, and to be making a better salary and exercising more autonomy than they could at home.22 For white female teachers, teaching in the Philippines certainly offered financial and professional opportunities that were unavailable at home. For female teachers during this period, the opportunities for career advancement and earning capacity were still fairly limited. A position in the Philippine service offered the chance to develop professionally and to earn a salary that would have been unthinkable at home.23 Moreover, while in the US women were expected to resign their positions after marriage, married women could receive appointments as teachers in the Philippines. Bess Priestley, who came to the islands with her husband, Herbert Ingram Priestley, wrote home that she had been appointed a teacher, and asked: “Don’t you think it is nice that I can teach too, and help us to get rich faster?”24

22

23

24

Some white, female teachers did rise to positions of authority within the Bureau of Education. Several became principals of Intermediate Schools, especially in and around Manila. In addition, while most supervising teachers were men, a few women did rise to that position, including Lalla Rookh, Mary E. Polly, Alice M. Kelly, and Minnie E. Jessup. Finally, some women did earn salaries in the top-tier of the civil service. In 1908, of the seventy-seven American teachers making ₱3,000 or more, ten were women. See Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1908). Several black male teachers also received promotions. John Henry Manning Butler became a division superintendent, Bedford B. Hunter was a supervising teacher, Fred D. Bonner was appointed a supervising teacher and postmaster, and Jesse Walker Ratcliffe became the principal of the Leyte Trade School. As none of these men left behind personal collections of papers, it is of course impossible to know whether they ever felt professionally slighted or passed over, but the letters Butler, Hunter, and Bonner wrote to newspapers back home certainly reflected contentment with their professional advancement. Mary H. Fee made $800 a year in 1894 as a teacher in the Missouri State Normal School. When she came to the Philippines, she immediately commanded a salary of $1,200. By 1916, she was receiving $1,800 as a teacher in the Philippine Normal School. When she attempted to be transferred to a position back in the US, however, she was offered only $600 a year as teacher in an Indian school. The record of Fee’s salary at the Missouri State Normal School is contained in the minutes of the Board of Regents meeting for that year. Amber Miranda, Assistant Archivist, Special Collections and Archives, Southeast Missouri State University, e-mail correspondence with author, February 3, 2010. For information on Fee’s salary once in the Philippines and later, see “Mary Helen Fee,” box 193, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park, Maryland. Bess Priestley, letter to Mommy, September 29, 1901, folder 2, Priestley Letters. Though by 1910, both American and Filipino women with small children were denied teaching positions. Frank R. White, Circular No. 103 (1911), August 3, 1911, “Circulars, 1911,” vol. 620, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA.

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Teaching in the Philippines also allowed unmarried female teachers the chance to support themselves and make their own decisions free from familial expectations and obligations. Decades after her time there, Philinda Rand’s daughters opined that she went to the Philippines partly to get “free” from her elder sisters, whom she loved, but whose care and judgment Rand seems to have found something of a burden.25 In at least one instance, moreover, teaching in the Philippines allowed a married woman to escape her husband and step-children.26 Once in the islands, single women experienced a newfound sense of freedom and independence, as many were able to live and travel without the immediate supervision of male relatives for the first time in their lives. Female teachers who were stationed in towns by themselves or with other women were often almost entirely free of the oversight of male superintendents. Rand, stationed in Silay with her friend Margaret Purcell, reported that her deputy superintendent knew “less about teaching than an infant,” and while it was his job to “visit the schools and report on the teachers,” he had been in her school “for five minutes and in Margaret’s not at all.”27 Both women, therefore, had a great amount of freedom both in their teaching and their daily lives. This lack of supervision would decline after the first few years of colonial education, as American teachers, and especially women, were increasingly assigned to provincial centers. For a few women, appointment as a teacher also offered the chance to engage in professional enterprises outside the classroom. Like their male counterparts, not all of the female teachers came primarily for the purpose of providing instruction. Teaching in the Philippines offered American women funds, legitimacy, and access to the Filipino people that they could not have gotten any other way. Adeline Knapp, who was appointed as a teacher in May 1901, traveled to the Philippines on the USAT Thomas. The record of the trip, The Log of the Thomas, announced that “Miss Knapp will engage in literary work while in the islands, and will collect material for a school history of the Philippines, a work on which she has been engaged for over a year.”28 A journalist for the San Francisco Call, Knapp had covered the overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy in the early 1890s, and now planned to write textbooks for Silver,

25 26 27 28

Biographical note, folder 1, Rand Anglemyer Papers. “To Teach in the Philippines: Nebraska Woman Accepts Government Appointment Despite Husband’s Opposition,” New York Times, August 14, 1901, 1. Rand, letter to Katie, August 31, 1902, folder 17, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Ronald P. Gleason, ed., The Log of the Thomas (Manila: N.P., 1901), 50.

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Burdett & Company that could be used in the Philippines. Bernard Moses, the first Secretary of Education for the Philippine Commission, wrote in his diary that Knapp had been to see him to ask what changes would need to be made to school readers to adapt them for use in the islands.29 It does not seem that Knapp ever did much teaching, however. One month after her first visit, Knapp went to see Moses again, complaining that she had been “quite ill” since her arrival and had been advised by a doctor to return home.30 Despite her illness, Knapp was able to complete two books, How to Live: A Manual of Hygiene for Use in the Schools of the Philippine Islands and The Story of the Philippines For Use in the Schools of the Philippine Islands, both published in 1902. Whether or not Knapp ever intended to teach for very long in the islands, accepting an appointment as a teacher provided her with transportation to the Philippines, as well as intimate access to school officials, teachers, and Filipino children, which would have been extremely useful for an author intending to write a book that would be adopted in the schools there. Teaching in the Philippines was also a path to scientific work for at least one woman. Laura Watson Benedict was one of the first professionally-trained female anthropologists, having completed a master’s degree in Sociology at the University of Chicago in 1904. In 1906, she went to the Philippines primarily to study the Bagobo peoples of Mindanao, having been authorized by Dr. George A. Dorsey, the curator of the Field Museum of Natural History, to buy a collection for the museum worth up to 2,000 dollars.31 Arriving in Davao in August of 1906, Benedict was offered a teaching position to fill a temporary vacancy for six weeks, an opportunity she welcomed in order to have funds available to live and to purchase a collection of Bagobo artifacts.32 When the permanent teacher arrived, Benedict was sent to Santa Cruz, where she would teach in a school for Bagobo children. For her teaching, she was to receive seventy-five dollars a month, which would provide “relief from financial anxiety, and [the] ability to buy Bagobo material with a free hand.” More than this, Benedict expected that her position would 29 30 31 32

Bernard Moses, diary entry, September 4, 1901, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 5, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Moses, diary entry, October 5, 1901, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 5. Jay Bernstein, “The Perils of Laura Watson Benedict: A Forgotten Pioneer in Anthropology,” Philippine Quarterly of Culture & Society 2 (1998): 172–5. Laura Watson Benedict, letter to Dorsey, August 5, 1906, Benedict-Dorsey Correspondence, Cummings Expedition 1906–9, box 4, R.F. Cumming Expedition, 1906–11, Field Museum, Chicago.

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allow her to “study child psychology among the Bagobo in way that only the teacher can do,” adding that “in these parts the teacher has the respect and confidence of the whole native community to an extent enjoyed by hardly anyone else.”33 Early in 1907, Benedict complained to Dorsey that her ethnological work was going slowly because of her school responsibilities. Still, she claimed that the experience had been worthwhile, because “the maestra gets into such close relations with the children, and secures bits of information that nobody else can get.”34 By virtue of her position as a teacher and her training as an ethnologist, Benedict claimed a dual position that was self-reinforcing – the teacher–ethnologist. As a teacher she had greater access to the population and was able to win the confidence of the people more readily. As an ethnographer, she was able to make use of this intimacy to understand the Bagobo better than a mere teacher. Indeed, Benedict claimed that her children had “taught as much as they have learned,” as the “interest of the investigator” so far won out over the “spirit of the teacher” that her school was “just as far removed” as could be “from the up-to-date, proper school-room.”35 Both Knapp and Benedict came to the Philippines with the intention of doing work that was more important to them than teaching. However, it was their position as teachers that gave them access to the imperial opportunities they sought. For Knapp, teaching provided her with transportation and knowledge of the school system and its needs. For Benedict, her schoolwork gave her immediate access to the people she wanted to study, and allowed her to gain their trust. Equally important, teaching supplied the funds necessary to support herself and build her collection of Bagobo artifacts. African Americans who participated in empire did so because they, like their white counterparts, believed that it would provide opportunities: the opportunity to earn a good wage and save money, to achieve a higher social or professional position, to have an adventure, to see the world, to participate in something larger than themselves, and to “uplift” another race by taking part in a civilizing mission.36 Additional enticements for black 33 34 35 36

Benedict, letter to Dorsey, October 12, 1906, Benedict–Dorsey Correspondence. Benedict, letter to Dorsey, February 11, 1907, Benedict–Dorsey Correspondence. Benedict, letter to Dorsey, April 7, 1907, Benedict-Dorsey Correspondence. As Michele Mitchell has argued, “uplift” was an idea often propagated by elite and aspiring class black reformers, one which engaged with eugenic thinking, and focused on individual comportment and dress, proper gender roles, and home décor as markers of “civilized black prosperity.” Michele Mitchell, Righteous Propagation: African

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teachers included the ability to claim inclusion in American identity and civilization, and to serve as advocates for black advancement. While debates raged in the black press over the opportunities and ethics of American empire and whether black soldiers ought to fight in a war to colonize Filipinos, a position in the civilian administration seemed like the perfect compromise.37 Black civilians, including teachers, could take advantage of the personal and professional opportunities offered by a position in empire without having to actively fight against another oppressed people. Bedford B. Hunter, a soldier who was appointed as a teacher, claimed that in the Philippines, a “man has a chance to rise according to his ability,” as one did not meet with the “poisonous prejudice” so common in the United States.38 Despite portraying themselves as bravely facing dangerous conditions, black teachers were most invested in presenting themselves as civilized representatives of the US, and as ideal colonizers. Indeed, from a context in which African Americans were often denied inclusion in American identity, a position in empire allowed black teachers to assert their national identity and have that claim validated by white officials. Walter W. Marquardt, a white teacher visiting Cebu, reported seeing an African American woman walk down the street followed by a string of Filipino children. Marquardt wrote that the children “had never seen a negress before,” and therefore “considered her a great curiosity.” The woman finally turned around, annoyed, and snapped, “Didn’t you ever see an American lady before?” Reflecting on this outburst, Marquardt remarked that he “had never thought of negroes as Americans” until that moment.39 This episode reveals much about the ways in which black

37

38 39

Americans and the Politics of Racial Destiny after Reconstruction (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004), 80–1, 154. The debate on empire in the African American community at home and in the new insular possessions has been well canvassed. See Williard B. Gatewood, Black Americans and the White Man’s Burden, 1898–1903 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1975); Gatewood,”Smoked Yankees” and the Struggle for Empire: Letters from Negro Soldiers, 1898–1902 (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1971); Mitchell, “‘The Black Man’s Burden’: African Americans, Imperialism, and Notions of Racial Manhood, 1900–1910,” International Review of Social History 44, supplement (1999): 77–99; and George P. Marks III, The Black Press Views American Imperialism (1898–1900) (New York: Arno Press, 1971). Mitchell’s article is particularly interesting for her gender analysis of the use of the language of manhood by black proponents of empire as a tool to achieve social mobility. “He Likes the Philippines!: Prof. B. B. Hunter Talks of the Island and Her Resources,” Topeka Plaindealer, June 2, 1905, 1. Walter W. Marquardt, “American Darkies,” p. 76, vol. 8, box 6, Walter W. Marquardt Papers [hereafter Marquardt Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann

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participation in empire challenged white American racial attitudes and expectations, and also the ways in which black Americans used their position within empire to seize opportunities denied at home. Marquardt interpreted the children’s behavior as being driven by curiosity about the darkness of the woman’s skin color. The woman herself, however, interpreted their interest in light of her status as an American, rather than her racial identity. Even if she suspected that the youngsters might have begun their procession because of her skin color, the woman did not choose to identify herself this way; she was an “American lady,” and demanded to be recognized as such. Significantly, the claims of African Americans to citizenship and American identity were often acknowledged and validated by white Americans in the Philippines. Those who may have been denied the rights and privileges of citizenship as well as symbolic inclusion in the body politic in the US seemed to be more “American” against the background of the colonized Philippines, and when juxtaposed with Filipinos. In addition, in the Philippines, nationality and class status could act as a modifier of racial hierarchy. The intersections of race, gender, class, and national identity created a complex racial dynamic in the Philippines, one which offered black Americans the chance to achieve professional, class, and social positions that were often denied at home and to gain experiences, such as traveling around the world, that would not have been possible without the project of empire. Whether out of respect for their positions as government employees or because they believed that overt racism hurt the cause of the US in the Philippines, white officials did recognize black claims to American identity and upheld their official authority and power. John Henry Manning Butler began positioning himself consciously as an American before he had even reached the islands. While visiting Linea, the Spanish town next to Gibraltar, Butler reported that he and other

Arbor. It is not clear when this episode took place. Marquardt wrote it down between 1922 and 1930, but it is probably a recollection of an earlier time. It seems likely that it would have happened between 1901 and 1910, when Marquardt was first a teacher in, and then the division superintendent for, Leyte. There would have also been more American soldiers in the islands during the early years of colonization. For a brief outline of Marquardt’s career, see p. 244, vol. 6, box 5, Marquardt Papers. It also seems likely that the woman was the wife of a soldier stationed nearby. Both Marquardt and Mary Helen Fee mention the presence of black dressmakers on Leyte and Panay. See Marquardt, “American Darkies,” p. 76, vol. 8, box 6, Marquardt Papers, and Mary H. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 268.

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teachers “secured a patriarchal looking gentleman whom we named Abraham” to take them sightseeing. This guide, he noted, “could not understand how one whose color and hair texture like mine could be an American.”40 Shortly after his arrival in Manila, Butler declared that despite white prejudice, the very presence of black soldiers in the Philippines indicated that “true Americanism” was not based on “race, color or previous condition of servitude.”41 Butler made this claim clear when writing of his early years at his station in Zambales. He consistently portrayed himself as accepted and valued by both white military and civilian officials, declaring that the officers of the Constabulary “worked hand in hand” with him to build up the schools.42 He conceded that some Americans had tried to “arouse race feeling” but that he had “not returned the compliment.” When “a campaign was once started on me,” Butler recalled that some Filipinos had come and “compared my skin with theirs. I compared my hair and showed that theirs was like the white man’s.” He claimed that the “lesson” (that race had nothing to do with American citizenship and that all mankind was related) “had its effect.”43 Butler then declared: “I am every whit [an] American, one of the ‘first families’ of the nation, whose victories whether in the arts of peace or war give me joy, and whose defeat in anything honorable would make me feel the sting as much as any one else.”44 While some white Americans had attempted to draw the race line against Butler, the Filipinos in Alaminos refused to go along, instead choosing to learn Butler’s “lesson.” Even those Americans who were inclined to, therefore, were unable to enforce racial hierarchies as they could in the US.

40 41 42

43

44

Butler, “Early Experiences as a Teacher in the Philippines,” 233–4, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Onlooker, “In the Philippines,” Star of Zion, August 7, 1902, 2. While declaring himself to be valued and respected by white officials was certainly in his own interest, there is evidence that these claims were true. In 1921, Frank Carpenter, the former Governor of the Moro Province, wrote a letter of recommendation for Butler, declaring that he was a man of “excellent presence” who commanded the “respect of his Caucasian associates.” Frank W. Carpenter, Letter to Frank McIntyre, June 17, 1921, “John H.M. Butler,” box 88, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Butler, “Early Experiences,” 236–7. Butler made a similar claim in an earlier letter to the Star of Zion. Despite white prejudice, he argued that with “color resembling the American Negro and hair like the white man,” Filipinos “could readily determine a kinship with Americans, with the world,” and appreciate the universal brotherhood of man. Observer, “Our Manila Letter,” Star of Zion, October 9, 1902, 7. Butler, “Early Experiences,” 236–7.

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 .. John Henry Manning Butler in 1898 (Negro Stars in All Ages of the World)

Beyond claiming status as Americans, black teachers also argued that they, as educated members of their race, were best suited to carry out the project of Americanization. Fairly soon after his arrival in the islands, Butler began to quietly promote the hiring of more African Americans in the Philippine teaching service. In August 1902, he wrote privately to W. E. B. DuBois, asking him to send some of his writings to the Bureau of Education that would “throw light upon race advancement as the result of the mental culture of our youths.” In making this request, Butler also noted that, as many white teachers were going home as a result of unsatisfactory service or discouragement with the work, it might pave the way for the hiring of more black teachers, “especially if the members of the race who now are here succeed.” Butler had a clear idea of which teachers would be best fitted to thrive in colonial education, continuing that graduates of industrial schools would not be able to meet “the scholastic requirements.”45 By pushing for black 45

Butler, letter to W. E. B. Du Bois, August 28, 1902, W. E. B. Du Bois Papers [hereafter Du Bois Papers], Special Collections and University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst. It is not clear that Butler was familiar with Du Bois’s published works himself. In his letter, he notes that he was inspired to write to Du Bois after two conversations with white men, one of whom was well-placed in the colonial government, who had been favorably impressed by DuBois’s writings on “the progress of the race.”

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teachers with college or Normal school training, Butler used notions of race, education, and class to claim an imperial position for elite African Americans. Butler also began to argue in his anonymous letters to the Star of Zion that educated African Americans were the best colonizers and agents of Americanization by virtue of their racial sympathy with Filipinos. Black men were ideally suited to be the “connecting link” between American merchants and Filipino customers. Added to this, black wives and daughters would be social assets, as they “would meet the Filipino woman on a level which the white women generally will not do.” Butler’s sentiment may have been influenced somewhat by his anticipation of his own wife’s arrival in the islands, but he was earnest in his belief that black men and women of a certain class would be beneficial for Filipinos and for the entire colonial project. Despite writing positively of the relationship between black soldiers and Filipinos, Butler clearly believed that black professionals and elites would be better ambassadors of Americanization. Butler declared that Filipinos had never met refined black women who could “perform on the piano and sing chaste classical music” as opposed to “trashy ‘coon songs.’” After meeting these types of black Americans, he concluded, “America will mean more” to Filipinos, and colonization would “assume a different hue” upon discovering that “that the Negro with whom he delights to claim kin on account of color has under the American government, of which he is a part, made wonderful progress.”46 Butler declared that the presence of the few black teachers who had been appointed in the Philippines, himself included, was beneficial for empire, and linked his own professional progress to the goodwill and Americanization of Filipinos. There was, he argued, a “lurking dread that the government would not deal entirely fair because of race.” Against this fear, Butler held himself up as “evidence of the good intentions of the government.” Butler declared that if more black Americans had been appointed to government positions, the fears of Filipinos “would have been greatly allayed and the clamor for autonomous rule been neither so great nor insistent as at present.” Indeed, Butler argued that throughout his time in the Philippines, every promotion or favor shown to him “was

46

Observer, “The Filipino: His Country and Customs,” Star of Zion, November 13, 1902, 2.

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considered by the people as an augury [of] good intentions toward Filipinos.”47 In this way, Butler tied his own advancement within the Bureau of Education to the eventual success of the educational mission, and the entire imperial project. Teaching in the islands was also depicted in the black press as an excellent chance for educated African Americans to excel. In November 1902, several black newspapers published a report by Captain Thomas S. Lowe that Fred Atkinson, the Superintendent of Education, had declared that the best school in the Philippines was taught by Frederick Douglas Bonner, a black graduate of Yale University. Lowe argued that Bonner’s success reflected not only his ability as a pedagogue, but the “acceptance given him because of his color,” and concluded that “a colored teacher with an American education is bound to meet with great success in the islands. It is a great opportunity for the college-bred American negro.”48 Carter G. Woodson argued that success in teaching was rooted in the teacher’s ability to understand the people with whom he was placed.49 In The Mis-education of the Negro, he declared that the teachers sent by the government to the Philippines, while “highly trained” at “institutions like Harvard, Yale, Columbia, and Chicago,” were often failures because they failed to take local contexts into consideration. Woodson gave the counterexample of a businessman in the Philippines who became a teacher. The man had no formal background in pedagogy, but “he understood people,” and was able to make his lessons relevant and accessible to Filipinos by teaching about José Rizal rather than George Washington, and by adapting lessons to use objects familiar in the Philippines, such as the song “Come Shake the Lomboy Tree.”50 47 48

49

50

Butler, “Early Experiences,” 238–9. “Teaching Filipinos,” Jeffersonian Gazette, September 23, 1903, 3. A shortened version of this story was also published in the Star of Zion. See “Editorial,” Star of Zion, November 27, 1902, 4. The Southwestern Christian Advocate and Cleveland Gazette later printed versions of this story, although wrongly identifying Bonner’s alma mater as Harvard rather than Yale. See “Editorial Notes,” Southwestern Christian Advocate, December 4, 1902, 1; and “Of Race Interest,” Cleveland Gazette, December 13, 1902, 1. The BIA recorded Bonner’s service as “very satisfactory” and recommended him for reinstatement. Charles H. Magee, letter to J. G. Collicot, November 6, 1915, box 70, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Woodson’s service in the Philippines was also described as “entirely satisfactory.” McIntyre, letter to US Civil Service Commission, December 12, 1907, folder 8898, box 533, Classified Files, 1898–1913. Carter G. Woodson, The Miseducation of the Negro (Washington, DC: The Associated Publishers, 1933; reprint, Chicago: African American Images, 2000), 152–3.

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While Woodson had graduated from college before going to the Philippines to teach, his point seems to be that, rather than relying on abstract ideas about instruction, school success was derived from the ability to adapt to conditions on the ground. Despite the paucity of sources written by the handful of black women who lived and worked in the Philippines, there is some evidence that Charlotte Bonner, at least, viewed teaching in the islands as a defining moment in her life and career, and as a period in which she was part of something bigger than herself. In an address probably written sometime in 1907, while on a visit to the US, Charlotte detailed her experiences traveling to and from the Philippines.51 Seeing the world as Charlotte did was an opportunity that few African American women would have had. That her time teaching in the islands was important to her can be clearly seen in a short profile in Who’s Who in Colored America in 1930. Charlotte lists her occupation as “Educator-Housewife,” despite the fact that she had not taught since leaving the Philippines. In addition, half of her blurb was devoted to noting that she “was in the Philippines during the pioneer teaching period, from 1902 to 1914, and her work at all times was satisfactory,” indicating that her experience remained one of the most significant events of her life.52 After she passed away in 1943, nearly half of her brief obituary was about her teaching in the Philippines.53

   Beyond attempting to realize visions of professional advancement and to shore up claims to fitness for a colonial position, American teachers also presented themselves as living strenuously in empire. Indeed, depictions of themselves as healthy, brave, and vigorous were part of teachers’ claims to imperial fitness. While these narratives were present in teachers’ private and public writings, in diaries, letters, and articles, they were perhaps most pronounced in published and unpublished memoirs, as teachers more overtly engaged with literary tropes of exploration and empire. For white American teachers especially, these self-representations could 51 52 53

Charlotte D. Bonner, “A Glimpse of the World,” from the private collection of Dale Murphy. “Bonner, Charlotte Drucilla Stokes,” Who’s Who in Colored America, 3rd edition, 1930–2 (Brooklyn: Thomas Yenser, 1932), 43–4. “Mrs. Frederick D. Bonner,” New York Times, September 9, 1943, 25.

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be part of a counternarrative against the notion of tropics as a place of mental and physical danger for white men and women.54 For black teachers, narratives of strenuous living tied into their claims of professional success and their status as the ideal colonizers. White male teachers took great pleasure in exploring the country outside their own stations, using the opportunity to indulge in visions of white male penetration of virgin territory and isolation from civilization. For Herbert D. Fisher, this involved fairly literal Robinson Crusoe fantasy play. While Fisher was obsessed with his status as a white man, referring constantly to his efforts to keep up his standards of behavior and dress, he noted that he did occasionally allow himself “to become a real savage.” Fisher unofficially “lay claim” to Calangaman, a small island in between Leyte and Cebu that was uninhabited except occasionally by fishermen.55 This became his refuge from civilized living, a place where he would go to engage in fantasies of racial regression. Once, Fisher brought a fellow teacher, Walter Francis, to see the island, who “fell into the abandonment,” stripping down to a G-string and racing “along that sandy beach yelling like a cannibal with a long spear he had fashioned out of a piece of driftwood.”56 That same night, when the two men saw an “armada of fishing canoes” from Cebu heading toward the island, they decided to “arm the place and fight them off” by firing off a cannon made from bamboo, which they had been taught to make by Fisher’s servant.57 Retreat to this island became, for Fisher, a chance to play act fantasies of a tropical frontier, a space in which he could indulge in an imaginary regression to savagery in a clear reenactment of the racial regression and regeneration that frontiers could provide for white men. If a sojourn on his private island was a way for Fisher to descend into savagery, throwing off the burdens of civilization, he only had to don a crisp tuxedo to be fully restored to white, civilized status. Fisher made a point several times in his memoirs of mentioning that he would frequently “put on the dog” at dinner, and “come strutting into the dining 54

55 57

As Warwick Anderson has argued, white men and women were supposedly less suited to living in tropical environments, and more susceptible to a variation of neurasthenia commonly called “philippinitis.” For white men, this ailment manifested in a loss of energy and mental acuity, while white women additionally suffered from nervousness, abnormal menstruation, and other reproductive complaints. Warwick Anderson, Colonial Pathologies: American Tropical Medicine, Race, and Hygiene in the Philippines (Durham: Duke University Press, 2006), 131–41. 56 Fisher, Philippine Diary, 246. Fisher, Philippine Diary, 249. Fisher, Philippine Diary, 249–50.

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room in stiff shirts and tuxedos,” in order to remind himself of his racial status, to become “a white man again.”58 Fisher bragged that he “never appeared at table, even for breakfast, without a coat,” not intending to be “in any degree snobbish,” but as a way “for a white man to keep hold of himself, ‘lest he forget, lest he forget.’”59 Fisher used dress to create a narrative of civilization that was deeply imbricated with his racial and gender identity; a microcosm of the sort of civilization narrative favored by Theodore Roosevelt and Frederick Jackson Turner.60 By virtue of his dress and surroundings, Fisher depicted himself as able to move seamlessly between the roles of savage and civilized white man, degenerating and regenerating himself to embody a balance between under- and over-civilization. Against the supposedly stultifying effects of a tropical environment, Fisher’s fantasy migrations across civilizational boundaries allowed him to present himself as white masculinity perfected. Not many teachers had access to a deserted island to engage in this sort of fantasy play, of course, or the gumption to lay exclusive claim to one even if they had. Much more common was the exploration of barrios (villages, usually surrounding a central town) in the interiors of islands, away from the beaten path of the main roads. These expeditions allowed teachers to indulge in perhaps the most common of all imperial fantasies, the penetration of territory hitherto unexplored and unseen by white men. John C. Early, a teacher who rose to the position of Governor of the Mountain Province, Luzon, was deeply invested in the portrayal of himself as the first white pioneer among potentially dangerous natives. Early wrote in his (unpublished) memoirs that he “received a round of applause” from his fellow teachers when he volunteered “to go among the Kalingas, then reputed the worst head-hunters in Northern Luzon.”61 Describing his travels, Early depicts himself as having successfully “penetrated” into the interior of Kalinga territory, “at considerable risk,” where other, more cowardly colonial officials had been driven off.62 After

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59 Fisher, Philippine Diary, 187. Fisher, Philippine Diary, 246. See, for example, Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880–1917 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995); and Richard Slotkin, “Buffalo Bill’s ‘Wild West’ and the Mythologization of the American Empire,” in Cultures of United States Imperialism, ed. Amy Kaplan and Donald E. Pease (Durham: Duke University Press, 1993). John C. Early, “Reminiscences of John C. Early,” p. 6, John C. Early Papers [hereafter Early Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Early, “Reminiscences of John C. Early,” 36–7, Early Papers.

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becoming “a veteran mountaineer,” Early traveled to places which, he declared, “had seldom been visited by white men.”63 Ralph Kent Buckland also lay claim to the trope of the white explorer. When he was assigned to the supervision of barrios near Legatic on the island of Panay, he declared that many of “the barrios that lay in my district had never been entered or even approached by a white man.”64 This sort of historical amnesia was common among teachers and educational officials, who erased, or vastly underrated, the impact of the Spanish educational system in order to underscore the breadth and success of American primary education in the islands.65 While this rhetorical device does not convey an accurate picture of the lands and peoples being “discovered,” it does demonstrate that the participation in the pioneer myth was important to the self-portrayal of many of the American teachers. By claiming to be the first white men to penetrate into virgin territory and encounter strange new peoples, teachers like Buckland and Early were inserting themselves in a long literary and historical tradition, exemplified by such writers as H. Rider Haggard and explorers like Henry Morton Stanley, which was particularly popular at the turn of the twentieth century. The Mountain and Moro Provinces were special places for the enactment of white male fantasies of pioneering. The Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes was created in 1901 to create and oversee colonial policies for all non-Christian inhabitants of the Philippines. The Moro Province was created in 1903 and included southern and western Mindanao and the Sulu Archipelago. The Mountain Province, created in 1908, combined the provinces of Lepanto-Bontoc and Benguet, as well as pieces of Union, Nueva Vizcaya, Isabela, and Cagayan. Both of these new provinces were administered separately from the rest of the Philippines, marked off as semi-savage lands because of their remoteness and their majority nonChristian populations. Delineating these areas and their residents as

63

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Early, “Reminiscences of John C. Early,” 40, Early Papers. As Tarr has argued, Early’s claim of being the first white man that many of the Kalingas had ever seen was most likely a “rhetorical liberty,” intended to position himself within a longer literary and historical tradition of frontier pioneers. Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites,” 530–1. Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino,167. This act of historical erasure involved some complex mental maneuvering, as American teachers often relied on the networks and infrastructure created during the Spanish period in order to open their own schools, including the use of Filipino teachers employed before the war, and even using (and complaining about) the schoolhouses built and used prior to 1899.

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distinct from the rest of the islands (and from other Filipinos) highlighted and reinforced the notion that these spaces were unique, not subject to the same colonial rules and policies, and thus more open to white male fantasies of rule and regeneration.66 Even before the official creation of the Mountain Province, teachers stationed in proximity to non-Christians had access to these types of fantasy. For William B. Freer, a teacher stationed in Nueva Vizcaya, part of which would later be incorporated into the Mountain Province, creating an imperial narrative meant cultivating a colonial family for himself that was reminiscent of Robinson Crusoe’s. While most Americans, he declared, were “harassed by the general unreliability” of Filipino servants, Freer avoided this by employing Igorots, “who make excellent servants.”67 Freer had one servant, a one-eyed cook named Clemente, who brought home a “new caught” Igorot, “a lithe young fellow” who had “adopted the name Domingo for the occasion,” and who seemed embarrassed, not because he was only wearing a G-string, but because “this was his first encounter with a white man.” Freer ran his eyes over the man’s “satiny, chocolate-covered skin, and then met his own,” and he hired him “then and there” and “thus was my family rounded out to three.”68 Freer depicted his Igorot servants, particularly Domingo, as “faithful savages,” in whom he placed implicit trust.69 Indeed, he used Domingo as part of his imperial fantasy, a man Friday (or Sunday, in this case) to Freer’s Crusoe. Describing himself on a typical school inspection trip, Freer invited his readers to imagine “a man once white but now bronzed by the sun stepping briskly along a dusty tropical road in the fresh morning air,” with “a big army revolver” at his belt “to retain the 66

67

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For more on the creation of the Moro and Mountain Provinces, see Peter Gordon Gowing, Mandate in Moroland: The American Government of Muslim Filipinos, 1899–1920 (Quezon City: New Day Publishers, 1983); Michael C. Hawkins, Making Moros: Imperial Historicism and American Military Rule in the Philippines’ Muslim South (DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press, 2013); Howard T. Fry, A History of the Mountain Province, revised edition (Quezon City: New Day Publishers, 2006); and Rebecca Tinio McKenna, American Imperial Pastoral: The Architecture of US Colonialism in the Philippines (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017). Igorots, also spelled Igorrotes, was the name used during both the Spanish and American colonial periods to refer to the non-Christian peoples living in the Cordillera region of Luzon. The names Ifugao or Ipugao are more commonly used today, though for the sake of consistency I have used Igorot. William B. Freer, The Philippine Experiences of an American Teacher: A Narrative of Work and Travel in the Philippine Islands (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1906), 59–60. Freer, Philippine Experiences, 61.

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respect of possible head-hunters,” with “faithful Domingo following a few paces behind.”70 The addition of Domingo to his retinue completed Freer’s imperial narrative: it not only allowed him to indulge in fantasies of catching, taming, and visually consuming an island native, but also, by his very presence, Domingo reinforced Freer’s notion of himself as a white explorer, providing visual evidence of his mastery over the land and its people. The fantasy of white pioneering worked in tandem with the trope of the power of whiteness. Many of the white male teachers related stories of their mastery (by virtue of their whiteness or status as an American, which were often conflated) over Filipinos. When George N. Briggs went to his new station in Gigaquit, Mindanao, he and another teacher were sent with two native policemen armed with shotguns and several porters. While waiting on the shore of one of the small islands to the northeast of Mindanao for the winds to change, the policemen and most of the porters went ashore, while Briggs and the other teachers enjoyed their beautiful surroundings for several hours. After it began to get dark, however, they became afraid, and became “thoroughly convinced” that their escort was “merely waiting in the woods until dark to put an end to us.” After some discussion, Briggs went to go find the men while the other teacher waited in the boat. After an hour’s search, Briggs was amazed to find the men forcing the inhabitants of a nearby barrio at gunpoint to catch chickens for them. As soon as they caught sight of Briggs, the men “presented such a shamefaced appearance that all my fear immediately departed as I saw they were more afraid of us than we of them.” Taking charge of the situation, Briggs “turned the chickens loose and marched the soldiers and cargadores, or porters, down to the boat and shoved off even with the adverse wind and contrary current.” Briggs concluded that there was no more protest from that point and that the men “faithfully rowed us the rest of the way.”71 While Briggs confessed that he and his companion were afraid of the policemen and porters, as soon as he saw that the men were more scared of him than he was of them, Briggs underwent a sort of psychological transformation from potential victim to white master. He might be unarmed, but the fear of his escort at being caught in wrongdoing reminded him of his status as the lone white man

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Freer, Philippine Experiences, 114. George N. Briggs, letter to Crone, August 21, 1913, pp. 226–7, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers.

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and American, and gave him the authority to take command of the situation and the men. Even teachers who were not stationed among non-Christians made a point of stressing their mastery and lack of fear, whether from a possible attack by ladrones on their town, or while traveling between towns or to visit barrio schools.72 John D. DeHuff wrote in his diary that while traveling at night by himself, he “was never molested in the least. Had 100 dollars with me, revolver, and 6 rounds of ammunition.”73 In September 1902, DeHuff recorded that a rock had been thrown at the house where he and another teacher lived, and their servant reported that he had met a stranger in the street that day who had threatened DeHuff. The Municipal Council wanted him to move to a house that could be “more easily defended in case of attack,” but, DeHuff noted, “I am not afraid.” A few nights later, DeHuff thought the ladrones had come, but it turned out to be a cat among the chickens. Again, DeHuff maintained, “I am not afraid, although it seems that I have incurred the displeasure of the ladrone outfit. I sleep with two big revolvers where I can lay my hand on them without turning over in bed, and I am never without one of them night or day.”74 Even after he had to discontinue his night class for adults because his pupils were afraid to come out at night because of a possible attack, DeHuff wrote that he was still living in the same house. While DeHuff’s assertion that he was unafraid might be open to interpretation, he certainly wanted to present himself as fearless, and held up as evidence for this allegation his possession of the “two big revolvers” with which he could protect himself. 72

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In their letters and diaries, the teachers use the term “ladrone,” meaning bandit, most frequently to describe the bands of soldiers still operating in their provinces. After the Brigandage Act of 1902 was passed, all those who continued to resist American authority were declared outlaws, and linked to the fugitive bands that had operated in the mountainous regions of the islands since before the Philippine Revolution. The confusion over exactly what to call the guerilla bands is indicated by the teachers vacillating between the terms “ladrone” and “insurrecto,” though they chose the former more frequently. In a statement revealing the attempt to delegitimize Filipino soldiers, Harry Cole wrote home in March of 1902 that “many ‘ladrones’ (robbers), more truthfully called insurretos” had been active in the southern end of Leyte. H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, March 16, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers). I use the term “ladrone,” because it is the term the teachers used themselves, though I do not mean to demean those who were still engaged in armed resistance by so doing. John D. DeHuff, diary entry, February 24, 1902, diary 1, box 5, Elizabeth Willis DeHuff Papers [hereafter Willis DeHuff Papers], Center for Southwest Research, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque. DeHuff, diary entry, September 7, 1902, diary 1, box 5, Willis DeHuff Papers.

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In contrast, Ralph K. Buckland depicted the environmental dangers of travel as of much more concern than the possibility of an attack by the people in his district. While “the rivers and sea were not always to be depended on,” Buckland claimed that “there was never any danger from the people themselves. They were always friendly and easily managed,” a fact which made his travels “quite free from the slightest fear.” Buckland declared that he had traveled “on many a lonely mountain trail” without feeling “the least bit of fear,” though he went unarmed. The only possible danger to an American was from an “intoxicated Filipino with a bolo,” he concluded, though because of that remote possibility, “many of the Americans never went out anywhere unless armed to the teeth, a la pirate.”75 In this passage, Buckland gives an interesting twist to the tradition of white male explorers. He claims to go where no white man has gone before, and to do so without fear of the native population, which is very much in line with the portrayal of white heroes in literary and travel writings about empire.76 Instead of viewing a gun as a physical representation and extension of his power, however, Buckland proudly notes that he traveled unarmed, needing no protection from a people who were “friendly and easily managed.” Indeed, Buckland pokes fun at those Americans who felt sufficiently fearful to go about “a la pirate.”77 It does appear that station and chronology may have played a role in these differing attitudes. John D. DeHuff was stationed in Janiuay, Iloilo, in September 1901, and transferred to Jaro at the beginning of 1903. Ralph K. Buckland arrived in the islands in 1904, and was stationed in Calivo, Capiz. Arriving a couple of years earlier would have meant that there was more “ladrone” activity than in 1904, so DeHuff may have been justified in feeling that he needed the protection of firearms.

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Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino, 181–2. Perhaps the best examples of this genre are the writings of H. Rider Haggard, a British author who created the enormously popular character of Allan Quatermain, the protagonist of King Solomon’s Mines (1885). For an evaluation of the situation between 1903 and 1904, see “Report of Headquarters Third District, Philippines Constabulary” in “Annual Report of Brig. Gen. Henry T. Allen, U.S. Army, Chief Philippines Constabulary” in Fourth Annual Report of the Philippine Commission, 1903, Part 3 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1904), 113–30; and “Report of the Third District, Philippines Constabulary” in “Annual Report of Brig. Gen. Henry T. Allen, U.S. Army, Chief Philippines Constabulary” in Fifth Annual Report of the Philippine Commission, 1904, Part 3 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1905), 91–6.

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Several other white male teachers also took pride in traveling about unarmed, and presented the willingness to do so as a mark of true white masculinity. Indeed, some male teachers even accused those who carried guns of being cowardly. After a ladrone raid near his station of Calapan, Mindoro, Blaine Free Moore wrote that the Provincial Treasurer “got a rifle from the military and always carries a big six shooter stuffed in his pants,” while the provincial doctor “won’t go out of the house without a six shooter strapped on him.” This behavior was nonsensical, Moore claimed, because ladrones would not attack a town where American soldiers and Constabulary were stationed, and where each civilian had guns in his home. “A man that carries a gun in sight in town in the day,” Moore concluded, only invited “ridicule from the natives.”78 W.W. Marquardt, stationed on Leyte, viewed the carrying of arms in a similar light, noting that he traveled from Tacloban to Tanauan “along at night without even a revolver.” In contrast, “Major Pershine who cut loop holes in the doors and had a guard of 16 men sleep under his bed room and who was in continual dread lest his wife should be kidnapped, always carries a revolver around the streets of Tananan even in the day time.” Another colonel, who slept inside a circle of sandbags out of fear in Luzon, “also carries a revolver.” Marquardt declared that both men “ought to have a dishonorable discharge for cowardice.”79 In an imperial setting, where carrying a gun might be seen as a primary marker of white male privilege and power, Buckland, Moore, and Marquardt all portrayed being armed as evidence of weakness and cowardice. True masculine bravery, in this configuration, depended on bravely relying on one’s personal authority as a white American. Not all teachers adopted this point of view, of course, especially those stationed in areas where remnants of the Philippine Army were especially active. Benjamin E. Neal carried a revolver when he rode from San Quintin to Humingan, in Nueva Ecija, noting that “everyone goes armed.”80 Neal and his brother made sure to keep themselves well armed after hearing four revolver shots on the evening a nighttime raid of the

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Moore, letter to Ma and Pa, February 15, 1903, folder 4, Moore Papers. Marquardt, transcript of letters, December 26, 1901, p. 35, vol. 2, box 7, Marquardt Papers. Benjamin E. Neal, diary entry, September 21, 1901, folder 5, box 1, Benjamin E. Neal Papers [hereafter Neal Papers], Special Collections Research Center, Syracuse University Library. Both San Quintin, which Neal spells “San Quinten,” and Humingan, which is now spelled Umingan, are today located in Pangasinan.

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town was expected.81 A month later, on a visit to a neighboring town, Neal reported that he and Olin “were barricaded in last night as lots of insurrectos are around,” and that both men slept “with revolvers under our pillows.”82 While there was still revolutionary activity on both Panay, where DeHuff and Buckland were stationed, and Leyte, which was Marquardt’s home, those islands had been largely pacified and were no longer as dangerous as some provinces in the interior of Luzon. Some teachers stationed in areas in which the military was still active were enthusiastic enough about demonstrating their bravery in the face of insurrectos (rebel, or a member of the Philippine Army) that they went along with the military on raids. This apparently happened enough that the Bureau of Education felt compelled to officially forbid it in a circular in early 1903, warning that teachers who did so would be immediately dismissed.83 Whether teachers believed that bravery was demonstrated by the possession and use of guns, by the willingness to travel without any protection, or by participating in military operations, they were all engaged in defining what it meant to be brave, and thereby constructing an ideal of colonial white masculinity. At least for some of the teachers, the fear of being surrounded by danger enhanced their feelings of dissatisfaction with their imperial experience. Harry Cole especially wrote of his frustration at feeling confined to the town in which he and Mary were stationed. His fear of the dangers present outside of Palo constricted his freedom and enhanced his feelings of stagnation and confinement; not only was he failing to advance professionally, he was also quite literally not going anywhere. “As peaceable as this town is,” Harry wrote to his mother, “we do not dare to go outside the limits without an escort, and at night we do not go more than a block or two away from home.” While Harry acknowledged that it “might be perfectly safe to go anywhere around this part of the country,” they would not risk it, and so were “shut up” in a town that was considerably smaller than Ann Arbor.84 Even a year later, when they had time to adjust to new conditions and surroundings, Harry still reported the same sense of insecurity and surrounding danger. “If we only felt safe to go anywhere over this country,” he complained, “I should be much more contented here, but

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Neal, diary entry, February 15, 1902, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers. Neal, diary entry, March 9, 1902, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers. Circular No. 3 (1903), January 28, 1903, “General Circulars, 1903-1909,” Herman B. Wells Library, Indiana University. H. Cole, letter to Mother, October 22, 1901, folder 3, Cole Papers.

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sometimes I feel as tho’ we are in a cage.” He continued, “I guess it is safe all over this island now, but yet Americans do not go far from the roads. I want to get out and chase over the country and see what there is here, especially to go out into the mountains.”85 Harry’s fear was not a wholly irrational one; as he noted in a letter home, the day that he and Mary arrived in Palo, the town of Balangiga, only a few miles across the water on the island of Samar, had risen up against the US soldiers, and killed over half of the seventy-four men stationed there. This attack, coming just as it seemed that Filipino resistance to US rule was ending, shocked Americans in the Philippines and at home, and provoked a brutal retaliatory campaign by the military. There certainly were still Philippine Army forces as well as pulahanes (religiously inspired rebels) in the mountains of Leyte. In March of 1902, insurrectos raided the town of Palompon, on the western end of Leyte, though they did not harm the two American teachers stationed there.86 While the leader of that group, Jesus de Veyra, surrendered with 250 men in June of 1902, that same month four American teachers, who had just arrived on Cebu, and were waiting to attend a Teachers’ Institute before being assigned to their stations, went for a hike in the mountains, despite being warned of the presence of “outlaws,” and were killed.87 While no teachers were killed on Leyte itself, episodes of violence on islands to the east and west of Leyte served as grim reminders that the war was very much ongoing. Still, feelings of security or danger were not necessarily based on the actual conditions or the degree of pacification of the islands. While Harry Cole was afraid to stir outside his own station without an armed guard, other teachers stationed close by the Coles, including Marquardt, reported traveling along the eastern coast of Leyte without fear and even without arms. Moreover, teachers in the early years of empire were far more likely to die after contracting cholera or smallpox than to be murdered by insurrectos or ladrones.88 The difference in perception

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H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, October 12, 1902, folder 9, Cole Papers. Marquardt, transcript of letters, April 6, 1902, vol. 2, box 7, Marquardt Papers; and “In the Philippines,” Lafayette Gazette, June 14, 1902, 6. Marquardt, diary entry, June 22, 1902, vol. 1, box 6, Marquardt Papers, and “Report of the General Superintendent of Public Instruction to the Secretary of Public Instruction for the Period From May 27, 1901, to October 1, 1902,” in Annual School Reports, 1901–1905 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1954), 156. Between 1901 and 1905, forty-two teachers died untimely deaths in the Philippines. Of these, eighteen died from smallpox and cholera, while only six teachers were murdered.

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may be at least partially accounted for by the fact that Harry was worried about Mary’s safety as well as his own, while most of the male teachers on the island were single, and by the differing levels of faith teachers placed in the Filipinos in their communities. Whatever the reason, teachers who felt reasonably safe in their surroundings took considerable pleasure in going out into the country and visiting nearby towns and barrios, and recorded their satisfaction in these little adventures. Even Harry Cole, perhaps feeling more secure after a year and a half of residence, wrote home in February of 1903 that he had “dressed up regular soldier style” and gone on a hike with one of his household servants. Harry and the unnamed servant “chased all over one side of the mountain on the other side of the river,” Harry cutting his way through the tangled flora with a bolo knife, and came home laden with wild fruit. The excursion, Harry noted, was “lots of fun.”89 For white women as well, going to the Philippines provided the chance to travel, to have an adventure, and to take part in something greater than oneself. In a memoir written decades after her return, Philinda Rand recalled that she and Margaret Purcell, who received teaching appointments together, regarded the journey as “our great adventure.”90 Going to the Philippines was also an opportunity for women to demonstrate their fitness to participate in empire against narratives that white women were ill suited to life in the tropics. Lizzette Seidensticker declared that she desired to accept a position to “refute the intimations of certain eminent professors that women are not fitted” for teaching in the new possessions.91 Against the portrayal of white women as too refined, too delicate for life in the tropics, white female teachers in the Philippines presented themselves as hearty and hale, and as fit participants for the imperial project. Unlike many of the teachers who came on the Thomas, Mary B. Crans wrote that she had hated her time on the transport ship and in Manila. However, she recalled, as soon as she caught sight of “the green rice fields, with their borders of waving bamboo” en route to her station of Baliuag, Bulacan Province, she had found “the enchanted land of which I had dreamed.” She endured hardships, had been “dangerously ill with malignant malaria,” had been the sole American woman, with

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“Exhibit A: Report of the Superintendent of Education,” in Annual Reports of the War Department for the Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1905, vol. XIII (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1905), 425–6. H. Cole, letter to Mother, February 22, 1903, folder 10, Cole Papers. Rand, autobiographical writings, folder 14, Rand Anglemyer Papers. “Likes Her Mission in Philippines,” Chicago Daily Tribune, April 21, 1901, 6.

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only one American man, during a cholera epidemic, and had been summoned at midnight to the comandancia during a supposed uprising, but never, Crans declared, had she again “felt the discouragement and despair of those weeks of travel.”92 Teaching in the Philippines allowed white female teachers to engage with masculinist narratives of empire and to portray themselves as living the “strenuous life.” Many scholarly works on the presence of white women in empire have focused on the reproduction or creation of an imperial domesticity. Like snails, white women have seemed to carry “home” with them on their backs, so much so that the simple presence of women within empire, no matter how they saw themselves, indicates the domestication of a foreign space.93 While this was certainly true for many white women, it is not borne out by the case of white female teachers in the Philippines. Despite the attempts by the Bureau of Insular Affairs to link white women with pacification and colonial benevolence and suasion, white female teachers often represented themselves in ways that deviated from maternalist or domestic tropes. Female teachers located themselves somewhere between domesticity and the strenuous life, navigating between gendered visions to present themselves in multiple, sometimes contradictory, ways. Laura Watson Benedict, the teacher–anthropologist, reveled in the role of imperial pioneer. In her first few months in Mindanao, she reported that she was learning “loads of new things,” including how “to ride a horse, to fire off a revolver, to make a holster, to be patient with oriental slowness and delays and neglectfulness.”94 She noted that her first weeks in Santa Cruz had been “very strenuous,” but declared, “in spite of ants and centipedes and starving dogs that steal things, and skin diseases and lying natives and high prices, I love Mindanao beyond all expression. If one can meet bravely the conditions inherent in a tropical climate one quickly feels the charm of the Orient.”95

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Mary B. Crans, “My First Two Years in the Philippines,” in “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” 242, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Sarah Steinbock-Pratt, “‘We Were All Robinson Crusoes’: American Women Teachers in the Philippines,” Women’s Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal 41, no. 4 (2012): 375. See, for example, Laura Wexler, Tender Violence Domestic Visions in an Age of U.S. Imperialism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2000), 47; and Vicente Rafael, White Love and Other Events in Filipino History (Durham: Duke University Press, 2000), 58. Benedict, letter to Dorsey, October 12, 1906, Benedict-Dorsey Correspondence. Benedict, letter to Dorsey, December 20, 1906, Benedict-Dorsey Correspondence.

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While portraying themselves as brave and hardy, several white female teachers were also invested in having that self-depiction validated by the white men and Filipinos in their towns. They often underscored this public demonstration of fitness by comparing themselves to white men and Filipino women. Almost as soon as she arrived at her station, Philinda Rand began to depict herself as a capable participant in empire. When she and Margaret Purcell arrived at their assigned town, Silay, Rand noted that the presidente, or mayor, of their town seemed upset, writing, “It seems they had wanted men for teachers and I suppose they thought we were the helpless variety of women they had always been accustomed to.” The young women immediately set themselves “to dispel that illusion,” and Rand declared that “good fortune favored us.”96 Less than two months after her arrival in Silay, Rand boasted that her and Purcell’s “fame has gone abroad even into Saravia. In Silay there are two Americans, one tall oh very tall, demasiado tall. They live in a house all alone and there is no policemen nor soldiers nor anybody at their door. Oh they are very valliantes just like hombres.”97 Many of Rand’s stories in her letters and journals demonstrate her determination to prove her courage and endurance. She described numerous trips in Negros and Luzon that were arduous or dangerous, and took obvious pleasure in the surprise and admiration of Americans and Filipinos at her bravery and hardiness. Rand delighted in confounding Filipino expectations about female behavior, and proudly described the “amazement” of the presidente’s family that she and Purcell intended to drive from Silay to Bacolod, a journey of about three hours, alone at night.98 On a trip with other teachers to the hemp plantation of Juan Araneta, a prominent member of Silay society, she noted the astonishment she created among the Aranetas and other Filipino women on the plantation by riding her horse astride with a little revolver at her waist, which, she “assured them in a most brazen faced way,” she could use “effectively.”99

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Rand, letter to Kathie, undated, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. American teachers often portrayed middle-class and elite Filipinas as hyper-feminine and overly sheltered, and noted with great satisfaction when young women, presumably as a result of American influence, began to go out without supervision and wear westernized clothing. See Steinbock-Pratt, “‘It Gave Us Our National Identity’: US Education, the Politics of Dress and Transnational Filipino Student Networks, 1901–45,” Gender & History 26, no. 3 (November 2014): 570. Rand, letter to Auntie, November 21, 1901, folder 16, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Rand, letter to Kathie, May 2, 1902, folder 17, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Rand, letter to Marguerite, May 17, 1902, folder 17, Rand Anglemyer Papers.

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Wearing a divided skirt and riding astride rather than sidesaddle was a way for Rand to engage with masculine notions of imperial adventuring.100 Rand was invested enough in this self-presentation that she took and preserved photographs of herself on her horse, wearing her divided skirt. Interestingly, Rand also took some studio portraits of herself in mestiza dress, wearing the full skirt, blouse with bell-shaped sleeves, and scarf typical for elite Filipinas at the turn of the century.101 These contrasting examples of Rand’s dressing up indicate a willingness to play with both overtly masculine and feminine norms of selfpresentation. Given Rand’s persistent depictions of herself as brave and adventurous, and the way she consistently juxtaposed her character and behavior with that of timid or retiring Filipino women, however, it seems likely that in dressing up in mestiza costume, Rand did not mean to depict herself as similar to Filipinas, but rather intended for her race and nationality to shine through. Indeed, comparing Rand’s visual and written narratives, she appears to view the photograph of herself on horseback as a confirmation of her self-presentation, and the studio portrait as an act of dressing up, of playing at being an elite Filipino lady. Of course, part of what would have made such a transgression satisfying was the conviction that she would still be understood as a white American woman, distinct and fundamentally different from the hyper-femininity that she ascribed to Filipino women.102 Nor was Rand the only white female teacher to play with tropes of masculinity and femininity in this way. Others described themselves as wearing divided skirts, bloomers, or even men’s clothing in order to go horseback riding about the country, yet more of them seem to have chosen to send photographs home of themselves wearing mestizo costume. This fantasy projection of being elite Filipinas relied on the assurance that their whiteness and Americanness would

100 101

102

Rand mentions her divided skirt in a letter to her aunt. Rand, Letter to Aunt, February 24, 1902, folder 17, Rand Anglemyer Papers. For more on mestiza dress, see Mina Roces, “Gender, Nation and the Politics of Dress in Twentieth-Century Philippines,” The Politics of Dress in Asia and the Americas, ed. Mina Roces and Louise Edwards (Portland: Sussex Academic Press, 2007); Roces, “Is the Suffragist an American Colonial Construct?: Defining ‘the Filipino Woman’ in Colonial Philippines,” Women’s Suffrage in Asia: Gender, Nationalism and Democracy, ed. Edwards and Roces (New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004); and Steinbock-Pratt, “‘It Gave Us Our Nationality’: US Education, the Politics of Dress and Transnational Filipino Student Networks, 1901–45,” Gender & History 26, no. 3 (November 2014): 565–88. For more on Rand and other white female teachers’ depictions of Filipinas as hyperfeminine, see Chapter 5.

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 .. Philinda Parsons Rand on Horseback, circa 1901 (Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University)

transform the act of dressing up, confirming rather than undermining their understandings of themselves.103

103

Jennifer Green-Lewis has explored the function of photography in fantasy dress up, arguing, for example, that when the photographer Roger Fenton shot himself wearing a Zouave military outfit, he expected the camera to reveal “the natural transcendence of British identity.” Jennifer Green-Lewis, Framing the Victorians: Photography and the Culture of Realism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), 224. Green-Lewis reaffirmed this argument in a talk at the Harry Ransom Center in 2007, asserting that Fenton’s class and racial identity would not have been compromised by this photograph, but that rather the audience was expected, in viewing this “flirtation with Otherness,” to recognize what Fenton was not, thereby reaffirming his identity as an Englishman. Green-Lewis, “Performing Identity: The Strange Theater of Victorian Portrait Photography,” Lecture, Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, University of Texas at Austin, November 6, 2007.

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The ability to wield and use a gun was another important marker of imperial fitness for white female teachers. Pattie Paxton, a teacher stationed in Bacolod, just down the coast from Silay, also displayed pride in her ability to use a gun, recalling that on a picnic with army officers and civil employees the men brought a gun along for target practice. Inviting her to try, and treating it as a “great joke,” one of the men “tossed his hat into the air for my target,” a move which “cost him his new Stetson hat.”104 The possession and use of a revolver was an important experience for Rand and Paxton, as it demonstrated their access to and facility with a traditionally masculine power, as well as their fitness to participate in empire. Unlike the debate among white men over carrying firearms, for white women the ability to use a gun was a clear marker of courage and authority.105 Rand also made a point of describing the admiration she engendered in white men. On the way home from their visit to the Araneta’s plantation, it began to rain, and the other women and one of the men decided to stop for a night in a town on the way. Rand chose to ride on with two of the men, despite the ferocity of the storm, and described a wild ride through a deadly storm that made her feel like she “was living part of a storybook.” Rand noted, “I have had a lot of compliments since then, on that ride.”106 Through stories like these, Rand portrayed herself as hardy and brave, and as the equal of her white male counterparts. The approval of male acquaintances, moreover, validated Rand’s assertion of fitness and belonging, demonstrating that her claims were not merely boasts, but were accepted by American men in her community, the traditional arbiters of strenuousness. White female teachers were in general invested in presenting themselves as acting bravely in the face of potential danger. Despite the fact that most women were living in towns in which either American or Filipino soldiers were stationed, the very presence of troops was a reminder that much of the islands was still a war zone. May Faurote claimed in 1913 that the danger added zest to the experience of the old “Days of Empire,” when “the glamor and strangeness of the unknown” 104 105

106

Euphemia Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 15, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute. One of the few times in which Mary H. Fee depicts herself as lacking authority was on a gold-mining expedition during which she failed to intimidate native workers by firing off a gun, denoting her inability to wield masculine power outside the purview of her own home. See Mary H. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines (Chicago: A.C. McClurg & Co., 1910), 213–14. Rand, letter to Marguerite, May 17, 1902, folder 17, Rand Anglemyer Papers.

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abounded. When the commanding officer of her town asked her not to ride beyond the city without a military escort, she recalled, “it gave a delicious creepiness down our spinal column, that is altogether missing in these days of perfect safety.”107 Rand repeatedly denied feeling any fear of insurrectos from the first. She wrote that she felt “very well protected” and that when she and Purcell had “barred our doors and laid our little revolver between us, we sleep the sleep of the just.”108 Although female teachers did admit to being afraid at times, they almost always depicted themselves as behaving courageously nonetheless. While Pattie Paxton and Stella Price were in Bacolod waiting to be sent to Talisay, American soldiers told them that the leader of a band of insurrectos in the Negros mountains lived in that town, and that “any superintendent who would send two women to such a place was guilty of murder.”109 On their first night in their new station, Paxton heard “chanting in a weird minor key,” and stayed awake all night, determined to let Price sleep, but watching the window for intruders. Around dawn, she heard a “stealthy movement” above the ceiling. The next morning, upon asking their cook what the noises had been, he informed her that there had been a funeral for his nephew and that the ceiling was inhabited by a snake, intended to take care of the rats.110 Soon, both women were recalled to Bacolod. Paxton did not know whether a new superintendent had decided that Talisay was too dangerous, or whether the army had intervened, but declared that she was “sorry to leave,” for she had “come to think of Talisay as a challenge.”111 Paxton engaged with narratives of white mastery and tropical exploration by denying the need for protection from Filipinos by white men. While stationed in La Carlota, Paxton claimed that, when required to travel to a neighboring town, she could “make the trip with no sense of fear or loneliness.” On one trip, after making arrangements in a shop to be taken upriver in a dugout paddled by two Filipinos, the shopkeeper asked if she was afraid to be traveling with “two strange men.” Paxton replied that she “felt no fear,” that she knew of no instance of an American teacher being “insulted by a Filipino,” and that she “traveled alone with perfect trust.” As she glided along the river, the rain misting

107 108 109 111

May Faurote, letter, undated [1913], Butler, “Early Experiences as a Teacher in the Philippines,” vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers, 276. Rand, letter to Malcom, undated, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. 110 Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 11. Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 12–13. Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 14.

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pleasantly, her “hombres” working so contentedly that it would not have surprised her if “they had broken into song,” Paxton reflected that it “was a trip to enjoy alone.”112 From fears of insurrection and violence, she now depicted herself as being able to travel “alone” with Filipino men without fear or worry. Her lack of fear and her mastery over herself and her “hombres” demonstrated her sense of belonging in empire. Indeed, in dismissing the possibility of sexual danger at the hands of nonwhite men, Paxton was also negating one of the common reasons used to deny white women access to sites of empire, at least without the constant care and supervision of white men. Filipino men were transformed from possible insurrectos into harmless, faithful servants, background characters who did not impose on her consciousness so far as to be an intruding presence on her solitary journey. A willingness to travel “alone” was especially important for white women laying claim to positions within empire; solo travel meant aligning themselves more closely with white American men than with Filipino women, marked out by their race and nationality as being able to move freely about their provinces without fear of molestation or violence. Employment in the Philippines also offered the chance for single women to be the master of their own home and servants. For women who had only ever lived with family members or in boarding houses, this was a dramatic change. Rand wrote of her pleasure at having servants at her beck and call.113 Mary Helen Fee also felt the novelty and attraction of having a home of her own and native servants under her control. While life in the Philippines allowed women new freedoms, Fee did not believe that such a life was for everyone. The Philippines, she declared, were “no place for women or men who cannot thrive and be happy on plain food, plenty of work, and isolation.” Unemployed, married women, she continued, were not suited for provincial life, as the “cheapness of native servants” left such women with nothing to do except to feel homesick and grow “fretful, and melancholy.” However, she concluded, for “a woman who loves her home and is employed, provincial life is a boon.”114 In Fee’s view, empire was a paradise for single, working women, a place – unlike the US – in which unmarried women could thrive. In this way, Fee turned white, middle-class social order on its head. If the purported object 112 113 114

Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 22. Rand, letter to Dear People, October 20, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. For more on teachers’ relations with their domestic servants, see Chapter 6. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 246–7.

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 .. Mary Helen Fee in 1916 (The Torch, 1916)

of a woman’s life was to find a husband, in colonial life, marriage was not an unequivocal blessing, and could be a veritable evil. Mere homemakers could not thrive in the tropics, she argued, while working women could prosper and create and rule a home of their own. Single women, therefore, were the fittest colonizers. Despite the gendering of the position of district supervisor, women were very occasionally assigned to that role, giving them the opportunity to subtly subvert the prevailing narrative about women’s fitness for hardy colonial work. One female supervising teacher, probably Minnie E. Jessup, declared that the position was “not one which women can well fill,” although she “had the great privilege” of being assigned as supervising teacher of La Trinidad, Benguet Province, as she was informed, “until a man could be found for the place.”115 Her work among the Benguet

115

Camilo Osias, “The Philippine Supervising Teacher,” 226, vol. 4, box 5, Marquardt Papers. Osias’s article, which is reproduced in Marquardt’s scrapbook, includes the excerpt of a letter or report from the female supervising teacher, who would appear to

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Igorots included “long horse-back rides,” as well as “the fording of the rivers, at times as gentle as lowland brooks, at others swollen into roaring mountain torrents,” in order to visit her schools. These experiences, as well as recollections of Igorot councilmen “interested in doing all they could to help the schools” and Igorot schoolchildren eager to show off what they were learning “remain as treasured pictures in the memory of a woman who was for a short time a supervising teacher.”116 Despite her allowance that women could not fill the position of supervising teacher, Jessup describes herself as doing that work exactly, fording rivers and trekking on horseback to supervise her station. In addition, despite Mary Fee’s description of the supervising teacher’s work as “a man’s work,” she also declared that “the initiative and utilitarian aptness” of both female and male supervising teachers were to credit for the creation of a broader industrial educational system than was originally conceived.117 African Americans also eagerly embraced the opportunity to be part of a project of colonial uplift, and to depict themselves as brave and strenuous. This motivation encouraged Bedford B. Hunter to enlist to fight in the Philippines, and then to seek a position as a teacher. Hunter recalled that he had watched with envy as the troops sailed in and out of San Francisco and, tempted by the opportunity to be a “hero,” determined to “go to the Philippines on the next opportunity that offered itself and to do something there for the people.”118 In the islands, Hunter depicted himself as fearless, willing to bravely face danger in the discharge of his duty, including swollen rivers, alligators, giant snakes, mosquitoes, and hostile townspeople. Hunter described one instance en route to the Normal School, in which a “maestro” saved the life of a “maestra” whose horse had slipped off a ridge into a swollen river, thereby earning her gratitude and, two years later, her hand.119 This episode seems to describe Hunter’s own heroism and courtship of Paz Montilla, whom he married in 1907.120 As part of the argument that they were the best instructors and colonizers, black male teachers tied declarations of personal bravery

116 117 118 119 120

be Minnie E. Jessup. Jessup was listed as the principal teacher for La Trinidad in the 1906 roster of the Bureau of Education. Osias, “The Philippine Supervising Teacher,” 226. Fee, “The Educational Work of the United States in the Philippines,” 283–4. Bedford B. Hunter, letter to W.W. Marquardt, July 7, 1913, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Hunter, letter to W.W. Marquardt, July 7, 1913, 302–3, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. “A Kansan Weds in the Philippines,” Topeka Plaindealer, July 5, 1907, 1.

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and persistence to their claims of professional success. John Henry Manning Butler, who sailed to the islands on the McClellan in February 1902, also framed his decision to go to the Philippines in terms of personal bravery. He noted that his appointment “was somewhat widely circulated and commented on, as I was the first colored person from the South so honored.” Although some friends and acquaintances questioned whether he would be able to “withstand the hardships” of such work, for Butler, “there were no hardships. I wanted to try the unknown and despite the advice of timorous friends to sign the contract.”121 Indeed, Butler even utilized narratives of race and tropical health to undergird his and other black teachers’ claims to imperial fitness and positions within colonial education, declaring that the climate of the Philippines was not conducive to “the continued health of the white man.”122 Black teachers like Butler did not feel the need to shore up their sense of belonging with reference to their ability to withstand the stultifying effects of the tropics. Rather, they utilized the narrative of the colonial explorer to highlight their success as agents of US civilization and uplift. Depicting themselves as overwhelmingly effective in their pedagogical efforts, black teachers were more sanguine in their accomplishments than most white teachers. The descriptions by some of the black teachers of the challenges they faced in reorganizing the schools, as well as the success they achieved, were quite similar to one another in broad features. There is a standard narrative of struggle and triumph that runs through the accounts of both Hunter and Butler: stationed in a hostile environment, rife with ongoing or recently suppressed insurrection, and facing the hostility and distrust of the native population, the teacher impresses the town with his learning and determination, and ultimately wins the populace over to the idea of public education and helps to reconcile them to American governance. Indeed, this would seem to be a variant of the “pioneer in the wilderness” narrative with which several white teachers engaged. By depicting themselves as succeeding in remote stations in which white men had already failed, both Hunter and Butler were underscoring their superior qualities as teachers and as agents of American civilization. Bedford B. Hunter’s experiences were similar to Steward’s, in that he began teaching while stationed in Cagayan with the 49th Volunteers. 121 122

Butler, “Early Experiences,” 233. Observer, “The Filipino: His Country and Customs,” Star of Zion, November 13, 1902, 2.

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Working in the office of the Sergeant Major, Hunter “decided to do something for the uplift of those about me,” and so “picked up a few urchins who were hanging around our office and persuaded them to come every evening and study English.” Soon, Hunter recalled, he had a regular class of twenty students. While on a furlough to Manila, Hunter heard about the call for American teachers, and applied for a position. Accepted and allowed to choose his station, Hunter chose to return to Cagayan, where he “knew so well my services were needed,” and began teaching in Iguig in May 1901.123 The townspeople, Hunter wrote, tolerated his presence because he did not seem to be doing very much. But once an entire “boat load of Americans” arrived, including eight to ten new teachers, a high school principal, and a division superintendent, “a general complaint went up that we did not know what we were doing and could not possibly teach their children much less to teach them a language.” Hunter and the other American teachers ignored the protest and “invaded” the private schools for a few hours every day, “putting word after word into the eager openmouthed children as a bird feeding so many young ones,” and instructing native teachers for a half hour after school. Hunter reported that as a result of their persistence they were able within a month to hold a public demonstration of the children’s knowledge of English, which was “met with much applause” and which helped to overcome much of the opposition of the town, allowing the pedagogues to “proceed as we saw fit.” Despite increased public support for the schools, there were still more obstacles to be surmounted, including the resistance to coeducation, as well as the desire of the older people to be taught utilizing methods with which they were comfortable. In both cases, Hunter declared that headstrong persistence eventually won out against all such difficulties.124 In 1905, Hunter was transferred to Tuao, which presented a new challenge. He was the only American in the immediate area, which had no telephone or telegraph, and no doctor closer than twenty-five miles away. Moreover, according to Hunter, the town had been the site of the worst fighting in North Luzon “between Americans and Insurrectos,” and “it was understood that we should expect some rough handling.” Two other American teachers had been previously assigned to Tuao, but had been “either driven out by bad treatment or starved out.” 123 124

Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, pp. 298–9, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, 299–300.

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Hunter claimed that he had “plenty of experience in both bad treatment and starving but refused to leave.”125 Hunter recounted that municipal officials consistently tried to thwart his educational efforts, including hindering attempts to raise funds to build a new schoolhouse. Undaunted by these attacks, Hunter declared that he persevered; the school was eventually completed, and stood for Hunter as “a monument of victory over ignorance, insurrection and dishonesty. Trees are now growing on the soil, which the people boasted could not be grown because the blood of their martyrs was spilled there. The same people now send their children or grand children to school in the same building over which Old Glory waves in triumph.”126 Despite all the difficulties, Hunter declared that it was the American teachers, “the hardest worked and poorest paid bunch in the Islands,” who had been “crowned with the brightest halo of success.”127 John Henry Manning Butler also depicted his early teaching experiences as a process of overcoming serious obstacles to achieve success. He reported that when he began teaching, in the spring of 1902, his district was being terrorized by an infamous “insurrecto” leader, who collected tribute and targeted those who cooperated with US authorities, including the mayor of Alaminos. Butler declared that a prior American teacher had “left in disgust” and that he had been sent “as a forlorn hope.” The religious schools of the town were well established, and the students attended these rather than the public schools. Butler alleged that the 25th Infantry had been stationed there previously, and public opinion held that “a colored man could not [be] learned enough to teach.”128 While the signal corps operator attempted to dissuade people from this belief, for the first few weeks after his arrival Butler had only a few students. When a public entertainment was held by one of the private schools, he attended, and spoke afterward with the priest, who was favorably impressed with Butler’s knowledge of religion and Latin. The next day, Butler was offered a position as a teacher of English in the college. Butler declined at first, but after consulting with his deputy superintendent, accepted the offer, taught for three weeks and, intending 125 126 127 128

Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, 302. Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, 305–7. Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, 298. Butler, “Early Experiences,” 236. Butler’s claim is significant, given black soldiers’ assertions that Filipinos were friendly to them, and without prejudice. Whether true or not, however, by contrasting himself to black soldiers, Butler made a claim to exceptional learning and qualification.

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to draw the boys into the public schools, resigned as soon as he “found that the boys liked me.”129 Through perseverance and hard work, Butler raised his attendance, and also opened a girls’ school and an adult night school. Despite ongoing fighting between Americans and Filipinos, which disrupted school for a time, Butler declared that the “educational leaven was at work,” as the “impression gained ground that English was very easy, anybody could learn to speak it, and that it was a pass port to great things in the future.”130 Both Butler and Hunter lay claims to imperial fitness on the grounds of pedagogical success made possible by their tenacity and bravery. These triumphs, in stations where white men had previously failed, undergirded the argument that black teachers were not only worthy of positions within colonial education, but indeed were the most fit to carry out the project of Americanization.

 All of the American teachers who traveled to the Philippines arrived with a desire to reinvent themselves in the context of empire. Besides expecting that their experience would benefit them financially and professionally, the teachers, male and female, black and white, also hoped to represent themselves in new ways, drawing on their position within the colonial government as well as their racial, gender, and national identities to depict themselves as colonial professionals and strenuous adventurers. Ultimately, these teachers also all argued, in different ways, that they were the ideal colonizers, best suited for positions within empire and to carry out the project of colonial education. While the American teachers reveled in the opportunities presented by their positions in the islands, however, they also discovered that the expectations of their students and the communities in which they lived would place limitations on their self-depictions and behavior.

129

Butler, “Early Experiences,” 236.

130

Butler, “Early Experiences,” 236–7.

4 Recreating Race Evolving Notions of Whiteness and Blackness in Empire

In 1898, Finley Peter Dunne, through the voice of his character Mr. Dooley, satirized the notion of the “Anglo-Saxon” race. Turning the notion of the most advanced civilization on its head, Dooley praised this race, while including virtually all national and ethnic groups within its folds. The Irish, Italians, and Spanish, were all in the “Anglo-Saxon “lieance,” as were “Rooshian Jews,” Bohemians and Poles, and the “Afro- Americans.” Once all these groups banded together to “raise their Anglo-Saxon battlecry,” Dooley concluded, “it’ll be all day with th’ eight or nine people in th’ wurruld that has th’ misfortune iv not bein’ brought up Anglo-Saxons.”1 While Mr. Dooley’s rant was meant to poke fun at the idea of a mythic American race, it also highlights the ways in which the experience of empire expanded previous notions of race and color. While all Americans were not in fact included in the common definition of Anglo-Saxon, racial boundaries and definitions were in fluctuation in the Philippines in the early years of empire, as American and Filipino notions of hierarchy came into contact with one another. Race relations in the Philippines were often complicated and nuanced in different ways from in the US, as class, education, social status, and nationality modified and moderated traditional racial hierarchies and boundaries. Americans could not simply impose their understandings of race onto a colonized Philippines. Race in the islands became a hybrid of the two systems of hierarchy, shaped by the exigencies of colonialism, understandings, and definitions of difference in both the United States and 1

Finley Peter Dunne, “On the Anglo-Saxon,” Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War (Boston: Small, Maynard & Company, 1899), 53–7.

129

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the Philippines, and by the choices and interactions of Americans and Filipinos. In the process of race-making in empire, definitions of whiteness and blackness were expanded, creating opportunities for some Americans; at the same time, distinctions between whiteness and nonwhiteness were reinforced, leading to conflicts over appropriate markers of status and privilege.2 A main difference between social hierarchies in the United States and in the Philippines was the primacy of race in determining the boundaries of power and inclusion. At the turn of the twentieth century in the US, divisions of race explicitly determined whether people could naturalize as citizens, where they could live, and whom they could marry. Whiteness was the ultimate marker of privilege, while blackness was associated with discrimination, and increasingly during this period with the loss of civil rights and violence. Other factors did influence class status and position, of course, including education, social connections, and wealth. In addition, racial hierarchies were more complex and contested in US borderlands, as places like California and Texas defied racial binaries.3 This stratification of society, which allowed for nonwhites to gain status and influence, however, was less explicitly and officially recognized in the United States than in the Philippines, and wealth and education did not always serve to protect elite African Americans or other nonwhites from racial terror or institutionalized discrimination.4 Of course, exactly what 2

3

4

My understanding of racial formation has been heavily influenced by the scholarship of Paul Kramer, Mae Ngai, David Roediger, Matthew Frye Jacobson, and Natalia Molina. Kramer’s assertion that race, rather than being a static “discourse” exported from metropole to colony or shared among sites of colonial power, is a “dynamic, contextual, contested, and contingent field of power,” is central to my understanding of the ways that race was made and remade in the colonial Philippines. Paul A. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 2–3. See also Mae M. Ngai, Impossible Subjects: Illegal Aliens and the Making of Modern America (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004, new edition 2014); David R. Roediger, Working Toward Whiteness: How America’s Immigrants Became White: The Strange Journey from Ellis Island to the Suburbs (New York: Basic Books, 2006); Matthew Frye Jacobson, Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998); and Natalie Molina, How Race is Made in America: Immigration, Citizenship, and the Historical Power of Racial Scripts (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014). See, for example, Tomás Almaguer, Racial Fault Lines: The Historical Origins of White Supremacy in California (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994); and Neil Foley, The White Scourge: Mexicans, Blacks, and Poor Whites in Texas Cotton Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997). For more on the dynamics of blackness and status in the US, see Michele Mitchell, Righteous Propagation: African Americans and the Politics of Racial Destiny after Reconstruction (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004).

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whiteness meant, and who was included in the “white race,” was also being fiercely contested in the United States and around the world in the decades surrounding the turn of the twentieth century, as empire and immigration challenged and remade previous understandings of racial categories.5 In the Philippines, Americans were confronted with a new racial matrix. Based on the Spanish system of hierarchy, racial classification in the islands recognized a variety of mestizaje, or racial mixture, creating a wide and multidimensional racial middle ground. In addition, mestizo status could be modified by personal wealth, political influence, religion, education, and social connections.6 American teachers – male and female, white and black – entering the Philippines for the first time were entering a radically different racial context from what they had been used to in the United States. The colonial state did attempt to impose a racial–national order on the Philippines, creating legal boundaries to define “Filipino.” Of course, the process of articulating a “Filipino” race and national identity necessitated defining which residents of the islands were excluded from this identity. Following Spanish precedent, American colonizers and elite Filipinos both engaged in defining “Filipino” along the lines of religion, delineating non-Christians as separate and distinct. For the American colonial state, this justified the separate administration of animist and Muslim peoples and the denial of even limited civil inclusion. It also allowed elite Filipinos to make claims about the civilization of the Filipino race (and their fitness

5

6

For more on changing legal and social notions of whiteness in the United States, see Jacobson, Whiteness of a Different Color; Roediger, Working Toward Whiteness; Thomas Guglielmo, White on Arrival: Italians, Race, Color, and Power in Chicago, 1890–1945 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004); and Sarah Gualtieri, “Becoming ‘White’: Race, Religion and the Foundations of Syrian/Lebanese Ethnicity in the United States,” Journal of American Ethnic History 20, no. 4 (Summer 2001): 29–58. For a global perspective on whiteness and settler colonialism, see Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds, Drawing the Global Color Line: White Men’s Countries and the International Challenge of Racial Equality (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008). Lake and Reynolds argue that emphasis on whiteness as a primary marker of status in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century was a transnational phenomenon, linking together imagined white communities around the globe and serving as justification for new technologies and procedures for control of nonwhite migration. Kornel Chang, building off of this scholarship, argues that transnational whiteness was still deeply rooted in local conditions, leading to different formations of race and whiteness in different contexts. See Kornel Chang, Pacific Connections: The Making of the U.S.- Canadian Borderlands (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), 99. For more on race in the Philippines, see Kramer, The Blood of Government, 39–43.

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for self-government) that the inclusion of non-Christian peoples, depicted as racially inferior and at best semi-savage, might have threatened.7 At the same time, Chinese-descended peoples living in the islands often challenged the construction of a racial–national identity, transcending the boundaries of religion, race, and nationality that defined inclusion and exclusion. Under the US colonial government, classification of citizenship changed from the Spanish categories of Chinese, Chinese mestizo, and indio to simply “Filipino” versus “alien.” As part of this shift, the colonial government extended Chinese Exclusion to the Philippines, though Chinese people who had resided in the islands during the Spanish period and Chinese mestizos could apply for citizenship. For their part, Chinese and Chinese mestizos in the Philippines moved fluidly between these categories, depending on their perceived interests and familial, political, and business connections.8 Reflecting the shift from one racial universe to another, several white teachers recorded their shock, upon arriving in their stations, at the array of racial mixtures among the people. Stationed in Cataingan, on Masbate, Blaine Free Moore wrote that he had begun teaching the sons of the presidente, who was half Spanish and whose wife was “half chino,” noting that he had not “had time yet to figure out what the kids are.”9 Teachers were particularly surprised to find Filipinos of mixed race and Chinese descent among the elites of provincial towns. Shortly after arriving in his station on Leyte, Walter W. Marquardt recalled that he would not have believed even two weeks ago that he would find himself taking tea with a “full blooded, pigtailed Chinaman,” the head of a family belonging to the “swell society of Tanauan.”10 7

8 9 10

Kramer, The Blood of Government, 67–8, 85, 338–44. For more on Moro and Igorot racial formation, see Patricio N. Abinales, Making Mindanao: Cotabato and Davao in the Formation of the Philippine Nation-State (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2000); Michael C. Hawkins, Making Moros: Imperial Historicism and American Military Rule in the Philippines’ Muslim South (DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press, 2013); and Rebecca Tinio McKenna, American Imperial Pastoral: The Architecture of US Colonialism in the Philippines, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017). Richard Chu, Chinese and Chinese Mestizos of Manila: Family, Identity, and Culture, 1860s-1930s (Boston: Brill, 2010), 288–305. Blaine Free Moore, diary entry, September 27, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Blaine Free Moore Papers [hereafter Moore Papers], Library of Congress, Washington, DC. Walter W. Marquardt, Letter, July 31, 1901, p. 17, vol. 2, box 7, Walter W. Marquardt Papers [hereafter Marquardt Papers], University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. While Spanish blood was a marker of distinction, there were certainly Chinese mestizos who rose to the upper echelons of Filipino society. Many were members of the provincial landed elite. Full-blooded Chinese living in the Philippines, moreover, capitalized on extensive trade

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Philippine hierarchies and the context of empire altered American understandings of race. Just as markers of status could modify perceptions of Filipino permutations of race in the colonial Philippines, Americans hovering on the edge of whiteness could be recognized as fully white. National identity and colonial position or employment, among other markers, modified racial status in the islands, contributing to the process of whitening. This broadening of whiteness to include those whose racial status would have been up for debate in the United States also served a simultaneous, and less inclusionary, function: to police and reaffirm the boundary between American and Filipino, which was often depicted as a binary of white and native. Whiteness and American identity were also linked in mainstream culture in the United States, of course. However, this tendency to conflate racial and national identities was amplified in the context of empire, particularly as Americans simultaneously constructed “Filipino” as both a racial category and national identity. For Americans in the Philippines, the zenith of elite status was conferred by a confluence of nationality, race, employment, gender, and class. These identifiers also reinforced and moderated each other, so that a loss or gain in one signifier of status could impact the perception of the others. Those who seemed to be both manly and Americanized could also seem more white, and thereby enjoy the privileges associated with whiteness. This was especially true for those Americans who would have qualified as “provisionally white” in the United States.11 Conversely, for an American to seem to become less “American” or more “Filipinized” in the islands meant simultaneously for him to be less “white” and less “manly.” It was therefore possible for white Americans to behave in ways that could cost them the full privileges of whiteness. For men, racially “degenerating” by indulging in liquor to excess or becoming too close to the Filipino community, especially through intermarriage with lower-class

11

networks stretching back to China, and became members of a wealthy merchant class. See Andrew R. Wilson, Ambition and Identity: Chinese Merchant Elites in Colonial Manila, 1880–1916 (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2004); and Chu, Chinese and Chinese Mestizos of Manila. The term “provisionally white” was used by David Roediger to explain the distinction between legal and social whiteness. Legal whiteness meant that an immigrant had the ability to naturalize as an American citizen, while social whiteness was a much more amorphous, contested category of privilege and inclusion. Roediger, Working Toward Whiteness, 243.

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Filipinas, could mean a loss of status or place in empire. White women, too, could lose the privilege of a position in empire if they were perceived to be flouting expectations regarding behavior, especially sexual comportment. While some Americans attempted to maintain a strict line between white and nonwhite in the Philippines, these boundaries were not immutable and impervious, but influenced by status, class, and comportment. As the politics of behavior and respectability were crucial to maintaining colonial status, white Americans needed to consistently perform and model their privileged identity. In a colonial system in which nationality was racialized and race was nationalized in order to serve as both markers of privilege and the ultimate dividing line between colonizers and colonized, these identities were also imbricated with other indicators of status, including colonial employment, class, education, religion, education, and gender. Even as they accommodated new understandings of race, white Americans at times resorted to invoking familiar racial binaries to reassert superiority over nonwhites in the islands. The tendency of white Americans to conflate national and racial identity created a notion of racialized citizenship that excluded both Filipinos and African Americans. As noted in Chapter 2, some elite Filipinos were able to navigate past these barriers, using other markers of elite status to gain access to colonial privileges reserved for Americans, including admission to the Central School. The largest challenge to the linking of racial and national identity, however, came from African American teachers, who had access to privileged American status even as they were not included in the notion of whiteness, thereby breaking down the racial binary implicit in the division between American and Filipino. The attempt by some whites to enforce racial segregation in the islands was in essence an effort to define and regulate the borders between white and black, and to maintain racial barriers to white American privilege and inclusion. Yet black Americans disrupted the equation of whiteness with American identity. Those in positions of colonial authority, moreover, such as black teachers, were able to push back against the conflation of nationality and race, and to have their demands for inclusion recognized by white colonial officials. Understandings of racial identity were also informed by a geography of race. Farther away from Manila, and especially in communities where there were fewer Americans, nationality took on heightened importance, at times modifying social status more than racial or class backgrounds.

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At the same time, in places closer to colonial centers, where there was a higher concentration of Americans, it was far easier to make and uphold distinctions of race and class. At least some Filipinos accepted the white American definition of blackness as inherently inferior, and exhibited a willingness to adopt segregationist attitudes. Much more frequently, though, they incorporated black Americans into a Philippine view of hierarchy, with race or color being one factor among many used to judge status and social position. This meant that elite Filipinos might snub enlisted black soldiers while welcoming a black former soldier engaged in business or farming, or a black teacher stationed in the community. For their part, African Americans pushed back against white attempts to define race and blackness in empire, declaring that they had a special racial sympathy with Filipinos, and presenting themselves as the best colonizers. Black teachers argued that they were inheritors and representatives of American civilization, even as the experience of empire prompted them to shape new and expanded understandings of race. Identifying with Filipinos’ struggle for recognition and freedom, some African Americans in the Philippines began to understand and articulate their own racial identity as being part of a broader “race of color.” While black teachers argued for a special bond or shared race with Filipinos, they used notions of hierarchy that were broadly similar to Philippine modifiers of status. Nationality, education, class, and social status influenced their perceptions of their own and others’ standing. Black teachers, then, could view some elite Filipinos as their equals, even as they presented themselves as the best fitted to uplift and reform the Filipino race. Moreover, black teachers did not challenge the basic premise of colonialism or colonial education, despite an increasing willingness over time to recognize Filipino equality and aspirations for independence.

    Americans whose whiteness was up for debate in the United States could be seen as fully white in the Philippines by virtue of their nationality, colonial status (including colonial employment, education, and connections), and class, all of which modified their racial categorization. Whitening was also a consequence of the juxtaposition of Americans against Filipinos, and the tendency to conflate national and racial identities. The process of large numbers of Americans traveling abroad and

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participating in empire redefined and expanded whiteness, just as it broke down regional barriers in favor of national identity.12 The experience of Najeeb Mitry Saleeby illustrates the ways that race and whiteness could operate for provisionally white Americans (and those associated with the American government) in the Philippines. Saleeby was born in Beirut (then part of Syria) in 1870, immigrated to the United States in 1896, and received his M.D. from the Bellevue Hospital Medical College in 1897.13 He enlisted as an Acting Assistant Surgeon in the army in 1898, and was sent to the Philippines in 1901. Saleeby began the naturalization process in 1900, though he did not finalize his American citizenship because of his departure for the Philippines.14 Apart from his medical training, Saleeby’s real value to the military lay in his knowledge of Arabic and his rapport with Muslim inhabitants of the islands, known as Moros. In February 1903, Saleeby was discharged from the military and hired by the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, touring Mindanao with Director David Barrows for several months.15 After the Moro Province was created under military governance in 1903, Saleeby was appointed as Provincial Superintendent of the Schools and a member of the Legislative Council.16 Even while residing in the United States, Saleeby had been considered legally white. Military census records for 1900 list him as white, and he was able to begin the naturalization process before leaving for the Philippines. During an extended trip to the United States in 1920, Saleeby

12

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This was not unique to sites of US empire, of course. As scholars of whiteness have shown, understandings of race were contextual and relational; the perceived whiteness of individuals and groups could change in response to local conditions and juxtaposition against other racialized groups. See, for example, Roediger, Working Toward Whiteness; and Jacobson, Whiteness of a Different Color. Franklin Harper, ed., Who’s Who on the Pacific Coast, (Los Angeles: Harper Publishing Co., 1913), 495; Najeeb M. Saleeby Passport Application, Passport Applications, January 2, 1906–March 31, 1925, reel 1064, Ancestry.com. Francis Burton Harrison, letter of reference, October 17, 1918, in “Najeeb M. Saleeby,” box 569, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park, Maryland. Harrison’s letter stated that Saleeby intended to go to the United States to complete his naturalization, which, according to the 1920 United States Federal Census, he appears to have done. 1920 United States Federal Census, Ancestry.com. Harper, ed., Who’s Who on the Pacific Coast, 495; and David P. Barrows, Letter to the Governor of the Philippine Islands, March 31, 1903, box 1, folder 4, David P. Barrows Papers [hereafter Barrows Papers], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Harper, ed., Who’s Who on the Pacific Coast, 495.

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was again listed as white in New York census records.17 Despite legally being recognized as white, it is unlikely that he, or other Syrians at this time, would have been recognized in the United States as socially white. As with other groups from Asia and the Middle East, the racial classification of Syrians was being legally and socially contested in the early twentieth century. While some Syrians had previously been allowed to naturalize, court cases challenging Syrian inclusion in whiteness began cropping up in 1909. Syrians were officially classified as white in 1915, as a result of Dow v. United States, though their social whiteness would still have been up for debate, and Syrians remained vulnerable to raciallymotivated violence, especially in the South.18 In the Philippines, however, there is strong evidence that Saleeby was accepted as both legally and socially white, a status solidified by his position in American empire, his Christianity, and his education and medical training. Saleeby enjoyed close working and social relationships with many important officials in the civil administration. During his employment by the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, David Barrows declared that he could not “speak too highly of Dr. Saleeby’s services at this very critical time.”19 Saleeby was “old friends” with Judge Daniel R. Williams and his wife, and hosted them and other well-connected civilian officials, including Bernard Moses, the Secretary of Education, at his home.20 John D. DeHuff, an American teacher, certainly seemed to include Saleeby in a white identity. He met Saleeby in May 1905, on a visit to Zamboanga, and lunched with him at the Mindanao Club. DeHuff expressed pleasure in his visit, declaring that the “Moro Province is a place where the white man rules.” The Legislative Council, of which

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18 19 20

The records from the 1900 and 1920 censuses show that Saleeby was listed as “white” both times. See 1900 United States Federal Census, Columbia Barracks, Cuba, Military and Naval Forces, roll T623_1838, Enumeration District 108, Ancestry.com; 1920 United States Federal Census, Manhattan Assembly District 10, New York, New York, roll T625_1203, Enumeration District 735, Ancestry.com. See also Harrison, letter of reference, October 17, 1918. Gualtieri, “Becoming ‘White’,” 32, 46. Barrows, Letter to the Governor of the Philippine Islands, March 31, 1903, Box 1, Folder 4, Barrows Papers. Maud Jenks, Death Stalks the Philippine Wilds (Minneapolis: Lund Press, 1951), 192; Bernard Moses, diary entry, January 20, 1901, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 2, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.

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Saleeby was a member, he described as a “sort of benevolent oligarchy,” which seemed “much better than what we have in the rest of the archipelago.”21 DeHuff’s comments, and Saleeby’s social relationship with other government officials, indicate that Saleeby was considered “white” in the fullest sense of the term by civilian officials.22 Geography played a role in defining whiteness in the Philippines. The Moro Province was governed separately from the rest of the islands, and remained under military control until 1913. As a result of its separate administration, the small Christian Filipino population, and its perceived wealth in natural resources and agricultural opportunities, the province was often depicted as a “white man’s country” – a place of special opportunity, power, and free rein for white colonizers. The Mindanao Herald, the organ of American elites in Zamboanga, explicitly declared that the Moro Province was “a white man’s country,” with “millions of acres of virgin land.”23 The province was depicted according to classic tropes of empty land waiting for white penetration, a frontier of unlimited economic possibility. At the same time, its geography and administration played a role in conceptions of exactly who the “white” men were. These same elites clearly approved of Saleeby and included him in the progress achieved in this “white man’s country.” Only the week before the article extolling the opportunities for white men in the Moro Province, the paper congratulated “Dr. Saleeby” on his first year of work in the schools. Given “the dumb stupidity of the average native hombre and muchacho,” the Herald declared, it was “refreshing to witness the brightness and enthusiasm of the children” after so little training.24 When set against the backdrop of the Moro Province, Saleeby’s whiteness was secure, at least as far as the white American civilian population was concerned. As a man, an educated official, a fluent speaker of English, and a Christian, Saleeby possessed all the characteristics that denoted

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23 24

John D. DeHuff, diary entry, May 26, 1905, diary 1, box 5, Elizabeth Willis DeHuff Papers [hereafter Willis DeHuff Papers], Center for Southwest Research, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque. Saleeby was not actually an American at this point – he had not completed the naturalization process before joining the military, and did not become a citizen until after World War I. See Harper, ed., Who’s Who on the Pacific Coast, 495. “A White Man’s Country,” Mindanao Herald, April 8, 1905, 4, reel 77, National Library of the Philippines, Manila. “Closing School Exercises: Gratifying Showing is Result of the First Year’s Work Under Dr. Saleeby,” Mindanao Herald, April 1, 1905, 1, reel 77, National Library of the Philippines, Manila.

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inclusion, despite his own provisional whiteness in the United States, and the fact that he was not yet legally an American citizen. Some military officials, and particularly Leonard Wood, the military governor of the Moro Province, distrusted Saleeby’s loyalty, and expressed these fears by focusing on his “oriental” characteristics.25 Wood’s treatment of Saleeby, however, reveals more about civilian and military divisions in the islands than it does about his racial identification. Saleeby was openly critical of Wood’s policies, and of the attitude of the military in general regarding its behavior toward the Moros.26 While both the military and civilian government were invested in Americanizing the native populations of the Philippines, the military in general and Wood in particular were much more concerned with the pacification of Moros. It is likely that he would have viewed any civilian official inclined to use diplomacy and suasion rather than violence in dealings with Moro leaders as highly suspect. It does seem probable, though, that Saleeby’s racial background made Wood more suspicious, and made his willingness to criticize military policies and his rapport with Moro leaders seem all the more threatening. Civilian officials and community leaders, however, clearly respected and valued Saleeby, and viewed his rapport with Moro leaders as an asset rather than a liability. The fact that he was accepted as white by civilian elites is all the more striking given the emphasis on the ability to establish and adhere to a government by white men. Saleeby’s experience demonstrates the contestation and evolution of whiteness in the colonial Philippines, and the transition from military to civilian governance. Once Saleeby moved to the civilian-controlled Manila in 1906, it appears that his whiteness was even more firmly established. He became a prominent and respected physician, and married Elizabeth Gibson, a white missionary nurse.27 In 1918, Francis Burton Harrison, 25

26 27

Timothy Marr, “Diasporic Intelligences in the American Philippine Empire: The Transnational Career of Dr. Najeeb Mitry Saleeby,” Mashiq & Mahjar 3 (2014): 87. Marr has argued that Wood’s suspicion and treatment of Saleeby indicate that he was not recognized as fully white until his move to Manila. However, Saleeby’s treatment by civilian authorities in the Moro Province clearly reflect his inclusion in the white community there. Moreover, despite Wood’s tendency to distrust Saleeby, he did go out of his way to help Saleeby get information and justice when his brother was murdered in Turkey in 1904, writing several letters to the government on his behalf. See folder 11666, box 646, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Jenks, Death Stalks the Philippine Wilds, 163–4. “Announcements Concerning the Missionaries,” The Spirit of Missions 74, no. 11 (November 1908): 968; “Announcements: Concerning the Missionaries,” The Spirit of Missions, January 1910, 58; and Harper, Who’s Who on the Pacific Coast, 495.

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 .. The Saleeby Family, circa 1905 (Private collection of Sandra Saleeby)

the Governor General of the Philippines, provided Saleeby with a letter vouching that he was loyal to the United States and the Allied cause, and noting that he possessed “an enviable reputation both socially and professionally” in Manila.28 Saleeby’s brothers also migrated to the Philippines, finding jobs in the colonial government. Several of them also married white American women.29 The family’s acceptance in elite colonial circles indicates that these marriages were not viewed as racial transgressions. In the context of the colonial Philippines, spurred by the calculus of civilian hierarchies and the prerogatives of colonial governance, Saleeby and his family were accepted as fully white. The case of Gilbert Somers Perez, an African American teacher who passed as white, illustrates the ways in which Americans in the Philippines

28 29

Harrison, letter of reference, October 17, 1918, in “Najeeb M. Saleeby,” Box 569, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA, College Park, Maryland. Najeeb Saleeby’s brother Murad became a “hemp expert” for the colonial government, while Elijah opened a pharmacy in Zamboanga. The brothers married white American women, sisters Mayme and Laura Teeter. See “Saleeby-Teeter,” Altoona Tribune, March 1, 1917, 8.

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could transform their racial identity. Perez, who eventually became the head of industrial education for the islands, used his participation in empire to rewrite his personal and racial history. While African Americans in the United States also engaged in racial passing, the context of colonization and his place within the colonial government made it easier for Perez to solidify his status as a white man, and to have his claims of whiteness recognized by the colonial bureaucracy. Gilbert S. Perez was born on February 8, 1884, in New Orleans.30 His father, Constantine Perez, was from a creole family (listed as “mulatto” in census records) living in Mobile, Alabama.31 Gilbert’s mother, Regina Dussuau, came from New Orleans. Her family was also listed as “mulatto” in an 1880 census.32 By 1897, Gilbert and his sister, Coelie, were orphans, in the care of their mother’s family.33 Gilbert attended Leland University, graduating in 1904, after which he worked there as a teacher.34 He then attended Bucknell University in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, and graduated in 1907 with a B.S. in biology.35 Perez also lived briefly in Chicago and Austin, attending the Graduate Divinity School and the

30

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32 33 34

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Certificate of baptism, in The Treasures of Gilbert S. Perez: Father of Vocational Education in the Philippines, ed. Bayani I. Gutierrez (Manila: TUP Press, 1980), 148; see also New Orleans, Louisiana Birth Records Index, 1790–1899, vol. 81, 97. Ancestry.com. 1870 United States Federal Census, Mobile Ward 6, Mobile, Alabama, roll M593; and 1880 United States Federal Census, Mobile, Alabama, roll 25, Ancestry.com. Constantine Perez’s father, also named Constantine, was born in Florida. Constantine Perez, Jr. and most of his siblings were born in Alabama. For more on the Perez family and creole communities in Alabama, see Peter Kolchin, First Freedom: The Responses of Alabama’s Blacks to Emancipation and Reconstruction (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1972); Michael W. Fitzgerald, Urban Emancipation: Popular Politics in Reconstruction Mobile, 1860–1890 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2002); and Richard Bailey, Neither Carpetbaggers Nor Scalawags: Black Officeholders during the Reconstruction of Alabama, 1867–1878, 5th edition (Montgomery: New South Books, 2010). Constantine, who worked as a cigar maker with his father while earning his medical degree, moved to New Orleans sometime between 1880 and 1884. Henry Farrow & Co’s Mobile Directory for the Year 1880, vol. 16 (Mobile: Henry Farrow & Co. Printers, 1880), 157; and Soards’ New Orleans City Directory for 1884 (New Orleans: L. Soards, 1884), 602. 1880 United States Federal Census, New Orleans, Louisiana, Roll 462, Ancestry.com. “Judicial,” Times-Picayune, September 2, 1897, 5. Catalogue of Leland University, 1903–1904 (New Orleans: Leland University, 1904), 6, 26; and Soards’ New Orleans City Directory for 1904, vol. 31 (New Orleans, Soards Directory Co., Ltd., 1904). Leland University was a college in New Orleans that focused on training black men and women to become teachers, ministers, or tradesmen. L’Agenda 1908, vol. 15, 32, published by the Junior Class, Bucknell University, Archive. org, https://archive.org/details/lagenda190800unse [accessed June 26, 2018]; and Gilbert S. Perez, report card, Bucknell University Archives.

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 .. Gilbert Somers Perez in 1907 (L’Agenda, 1907)

Medical School at the University of Chicago, and working as a teacher for the American Missionary Association at Tillotson College.36 It is not clear exactly when Perez began passing, though it seems highly likely that he began to identify as white, or at least to reconfigure his history, by the time he was living in Chicago. In the 1907 L’Agenda, the Bucknell yearbook, Perez lists himself as being from New Orleans.37 However, in 1935, Dr. José Bantug, publicity director for the Bureau of Health, recalled meeting Perez while studying in Illinois as a pensionado. Bantug described meeting “a young medical student from Florida” who was selling cigars he made himself to support his studies. Bantug remembered Perez when they met later in the Philippines, he recalled, because

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Annual Register of the University of Chicago, July, 1907-July, 1908 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1908), 560, 581; and The Sixty-Third Annual Report of the American Missionary Association (New York: American Missionary Association, 1909), 15, 47. Tillotson College was a school run by the American Missionary Association for the purpose of training “leaders of the Negro race.” This brief period as a missionary teacher is not mentioned in any of Perez’s autobiographical writings, though there is a reference to it in the brief newspaper article announcing his second marriage. See “Goes 10,000 Miles to Wed,” Democratic Banner, March 30, 1915, 3. L’Agenda 1907 (Philadelphia: Hoskins Press, 1907), 51, Archive.org, https://archive.org/ details/lagenda190700unse [accessed June 26, 2018].

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Perez bore features similar to Filipino mestizos.38 Perez is also listed in the 1910 Philippine employee roster as being from Florida rather than Louisiana.39 Perez also began to rewrite his personal history and ancestry around this time. In a 1908 letter to Frank White, the Second Assistant Director of Education, asking about a possible appointment, Perez described himself as being “of South American and French descent.”40 These changes correspond to alterations in his biography that Perez maintained throughout his life. Interestingly, Perez is listed as colored in an Austin city directory for 1909. It is possible that Perez self-identified this way, though it seems more likely that the racial marker was assigned to him by an employee of the directory because of his skin color, employment, or associations.41 While he was able to pass in the North, then, Perez’s claims to whiteness were called into question in Texas. The opportunities for self-reinvention were multiplied in the Philippines, both by the increased distance from home and by the context of empire. Perez was appointed to the Philippine teaching service in 1909, and left for the islands in the fall of that year.42 Perez was first assigned as the principal of the Intermediate School in Baliuag, Bulacan Province. He was quickly promoted, becoming a supervising teacher in that town.43 In February 1910, Perez married Angie Florence Lewis in the Philippines. Lewis, a black woman, was also from New Orleans, and had been Perez’s classmate at Leland University.44 Angie Lewis was also 38 39 40 41

42 43

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“Perez,’07, Editor and Antiquarian,” The Bucknell Alumni Monthly (March-April 1935): 13. Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1910), 74. Gilbert S. Perez, Letter to Frank R. White, May 4, 1908, folder 17915, box 797, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Austin City Directory, 1909–1910, p. 219, U.S. City Directories, 1821–1989, Ancestry. com. As with census enumeration, it seems likely that directory employees were given directions, but also discretion, when determining the race of city residents. For more on the adjudication of race in Texas during this period, and the ways that racial status could be influenced by social position, wealth, residence, and other factors, see Stephanie Cole, “Finding Race in Turn-of-the-Century Dallas,” in Beyond Black and White: Race, Ethnicity, and Gender in the U.S. South and Southwest, ed. Stephanie Cole and Alison M. Parker (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2004): 75–96. “Latest Shipping,” The Hawaiian Star, August 23, 1909, 5. “Biography of Dr. Gilbert S. Perez,” American Historical Collection, Rizal Library, Ateneo de Manila; see also David Barrows, letter of appointment, September 21, 1909, in Gutierrez, The Treasures of Dr. Gilbert S. Perez, 151. Catalogue of Leland University, 1899–1900 (Atlanta: The Foote & Davies Company, 1900), 10; Catalogue of Leland University, 1900–1901 (Atlanta: The Foote & Davies

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an alumna of Fisk University, listed in the catalog for 1909–10 as “Angie Florence Lewis-Perez (Mrs. Gilbert),” with her address listed as “Philippine Islands.”45 She did not remain long in the islands; at some point in the next year and a half she returned home, and died in November 1911 of acute pneumonia.46 It is not clear if Angie was also passing as white during this period; it seems quite likely, given Perez’s decision to reinvent his past. If she was passing, however, her choice to keep Fisk University apprised of her whereabouts and marriage seems incongruous and potentially dangerous. After a brief trip to the United States, Perez returned to the Philippines and was transferred several times, eventually moving to the general office in Manila and becoming the head of vocational education in the islands in 1926.47 As he rose through the ranks of the Bureau of Education, Perez became one of the most valued and respected officials in the colonial government. Perez also extended his efforts to claim a white identity. In 1915, Perez got married again, this time to Hazel Hodges, a white woman from Scranton, Pennsylvania, whom he met while he was teaching at Tillotson College.48 Having already altered his place of origin from New Orleans to Pensacola, at some point in the next two decades Perez

45

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Company, 1901), 9; Catalogue of Leland University, 1901–1902 (New Orleans: Leland University, 1902), 15; Catalogue of Leland University, 1902–1903 (New Orleans: H.C. Thomason, 1903), 25, 27; and Catalogue of Leland University, 1903–1904 (New Orleans: Leland University, 1904), 26. The Lewis family is listed as “black” in the New Orleans census in 1900. 1900 United States Federal Census, New Orleans Ward 14, Roll T623–575, Ancestry.com. For references to Lewis and Perez’s marriage, see “To Wed in the Philippines,” Chicago Defender, February 12, 1910, 1; “Personals,” Chicago Defender, April 2, 1910, 2; and McIntyre Telegram to Angeline Lewis, February 24, 1910, folder 17915, box 797, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Catalogue of the Officers, Students and Alumni of Fisk University, 1909–10 (Nashville: Fisk University, 1910), 73. She is listed the same way in the catalogue for 1910–11. The 1911–12 catalogue notes after her entry, “Died November, 1911.” Catalogue of the Officers, Students and Alumni of Fisk University, 1911–12 (Nashville: Fisk University, 1912), 99. “Deaths,” The Times Democrat, November 19, 1911, 2; Angie F. Lewis, death certificate, Ancestry.com; and Catalogue of the Officers, Students and Alumni of Fisk University, 1911–12, 99. Gilbert traveled back to attempt to see Angie before she died, but he arrived in New Orleans after her passing. Perez, Letter to McIntyre, February 8, 1912, folder 17915, box 797, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Perez, Letter to McIntyre, February 8, 1912, Folder 17915, Box 797, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA; and “Biography of Dr. Gilbert S. Perez,” American Historical Collection. “Scranton Girl Will Travel Many Miles to Become a Bride,” The Sunday Telegram, March 28, 1915, 10; “Goes 10,000 Miles to Wed,” Democratic Banner, March 30, 1915, 3. The Banner lists Hodges’s name as “Helen,” rather than “Hazel.”

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began listing his birthday as February 8, 1885, one year later than his actual birthday.49 He also created an origin story for himself as the scion of an old Brazilian planting family that had lost its wealth following a move to Florida. He claimed that his mother was a French woman, and changed the spelling of her name to Regina De Seau de la Croix.50 Just as important, Perez erased both his marriage to Angie and his brief stint as a teacher at Tillotson College from his biography, thereby expunging two pieces of his past that might have linked him to blackness.51 Perez was able to pass more easily in the Philippines, far away from home, and in a context where the boundaries of whiteness were broadened. Even if his racial origins were suspected, his position within the colonial government, nationality, and education would have served to protect his status. There were a few individuals who may have known or suspected that Perez was passing, including Jesse Walker Ratcliffe, a black teacher stationed on Leyte, who attended Fisk University with Angie Lewis.52 49

50

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52

In the ship’s record for 1911/1912, and in his 1920 passport application, Perez lists his birth date as February 8, 1884, in Pensacola, Florida. “List or Manifest of Alien Passengers for the United States Immigration Officer at Port of Arrival,” January 9, 1912, New York Passenger Lists, 1820–1957, Ancestry.com; and Gilbert Somers Perez, passport application, 1920, U.S. Passport Applications, 1795–1925, Ancestry.com. See also “Perez, Gilbert Somers,” Who’s Who in the Philippines: A Biographical Dictionary of Notable Living Men of the Philippine Islands, vol. 1, ed. Franz J. Weissblatt (Manila: McCullough Printing Company, 1937), 125; “Gilbert S. Perez,” Who’s Who in American Education, ed. Robert C. Cook, 14th ed., 1949–50 (Nashville: Who’s Who in American Education, Inc., 1950), 950; and “Gilbert S. Perez,” American Chamber of Commerce Journal (November–December 1959), in American Historical Collection. “Perez,’07, Editor and Antiquarian,” 13. The story about being Brazilian was almost uniformly repeated in biographies of Perez. There is one biographical sketch written shortly before his death that declared that he was Mexican and Puerto Rican, though I have not seen that claim anywhere else. See Benito Santaromana, “Dr. Gilbert S. Perez: A Short Biographical Sketch,” American Historical Collection. None of the biographies published on Perez mention the fact that he was married to Angie Lewis before his marriage to Hazel Hodges. See “Perez,’07, Editor and Antiquarian,” The Bucknell Alumni Monthly, March–April, 1935, 13; “Perez, Gilbert Somers,” Who’s Who in the Philippines, 125; “Gilbert S. Perez,” Who’s Who in American Education, 950; and “Gilbert S. Perez,” American Chamber of Commerce Journal, November–December 1959, in American Historical Collection. Ratcliffe and Lewis also both lived in New Orleans and taught at the New Orleans University, though not in overlapping years. It is possible that Ratcliffe did not cross paths with the Perezes in the Philippines, as they were stationed in Bulacan, on Luzon, while he was stationed on Leyte. See “Jesse W. Ratcliffe,” Personal Name Information File, box 520, RG 350, NARA; Catalogue of the Officers, Students and Alumni of Fisk University, 1906–7 (Nashville: Fisk University, 1907), 87; Catalogue of the Officers, Students and Alumni of Fisk University, 1907–8 (Nashville: Fisk University, 1908), 88; Catalogue of the Officers, Students and Alumni of Fisk University, 1909–10 (Nashville:

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At least one educational official appears to have known that Perez was racially mixed. On an inspection trip to Bohol in November 1915, Walter W. Marquardt, the Second Assistant Director of Education, recorded meeting Gilbert and Hazel Perez. While he attributed the improvements in the school grounds largely to Gilbert’s efforts, Marquardt qualified that praise by noting, “I believe, however, that if he were left alone for several years, blood would tell and that work would run down.”53 It is not clear whether Marquardt suspected that Perez had African ancestry, or if he was simply referencing Perez’s purported South American origins and noting his disbelief that someone from that region could operate unsupervised. The use of the phrase, “blood would tell,” seems to indicate that Marquardt knew, or at least suspected, that Perez had African ancestry. Even if Marquardt did know Perez’s true history, however, he does not appear to have attempted to block Perez’s advancement in the Bureau of Education. Indeed, Perez became an Acting Division Superintendent for Tayabas and the Superintendent of Agricultural Instruction during Marquardt’s tenure as the Director of Education.54 No other officials, American or Filipino, appear to have questioned Perez’s backstory. One of the few American teachers to remain in the Philippines for the rest of his life, Perez maintained his fabricated history. Yet he also left behind documents that provided clues to his racial heritage, including a certificate of baptism that listed his actual birth date and place.55 Why he should choose at the end of his life to seek out and keep a record that would poke holes in his own recreated history is unclear. It is possible that some part of him wanted, toward the end of his life, to acknowledge his true origins, or at least to leave a paper trail that could do so.

53

54 55

Fisk University, 1910), 73; and “Resolution of Condolence,” Philippine Education 9, no. 1 (July 1912), 31. Marquardt, memorandum, Trip to Bohol, November 20–7, 1915, vol. 4, box 6, Marquardt Papers. It is possible that Jesse W. Ratcliffe, also stationed in Leyte until 1912, had told Marquardt about Perez and his first marriage. “Biography of Dr. Gilbert S. Perez,” American Historical Collection. Long after Perez’s death in 1959, Bayani I. Gutierrez published a collection of his writings, along with an appendix of personal papers, which included the baptism record. Given that the baptismal record was dated 1956, Perez likely requested it himself. The appendix also included a graduation certificate from Bucknell University, and it appears that someone wrote over the original listing for home town in heavy pen, changing what looks like “New Orleans, Louisiana,” to “Chicago, Illinois.” Gutierrez did not have appeared to notice these discrepancies, as he repeated Perez’s invented birth and background in his biographical summary. See Gutierrez, ed., The Treasures of Gilbert S. Perez, 148–9.

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Even though he may have begun passing before leaving the United States, teaching in the Philippines offered Perez additional opportunities for self-reinvention. If moving north was his first step in whitening, moving across the Pacific meant that his national identity and status as a colonial employee aided in that process. While many other African Americans passed in the United States, Perez’s experience and use of the racial dynamic of the colonized Philippines makes his story unique. He was able to racially reinvent himself in a context in which American notions of race were being stretched and redefined. In the colonial Philippines, Perez’s claims to whiteness were more credible, and more liable to be given credit, than they were at home. Passing was perhaps not necessary for Perez to succeed in the islands. His nationality, level of education, and personal and professional merits would have positioned him well for status and promotion along the same lines as other black teachers, including John H. M. Butler, Jesse W. Ratcliffe, and Fred D. Bonner. On the other hand, Perez’s selfrecreation allowed him to be included not just in an elite American identity, but to be seen as a white American, which undoubtedly did boost his status with certain civilian officials, and may have allowed him to rise higher than he would have done as a black man. By participating in and performing whiteness, he was able to be recognized as possessing every marker that would distinguish him as of a colonial elite. Expanding notions of whiteness in the colonial Philippines enabled Americans on the borders of whiteness to claim full inclusion in racial privilege. At the same time, the broadening of whiteness was a way to bolster racial boundaries. By including those of liminal status more firmly in a white identity, the gulf between white and nonwhite, and particularly between white and Filipino, was widened. American teacher Herbert Fisher, referring to his friendship with a German in the Philippines during World War I, declared, “One must understand that it was my estimation in the islands that there were only two classes of people – white and natives. Socially I am a white man, first, last and always. My social equals are white people, and it mattered little to me what nationality they happened to be.”56 While real status in the Philippines was more nuanced than this, it is telling that Fisher breaks race down into a binary – white and native – that conflates race and nationality. To be “native” was to be

56

Herbert D. Fisher, Philippine Diary (New York: Vantage Press, 2005), 394.

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nonwhite, while to be nonnative was to be white. American notions of race in empire, then, could function as an attempt to counter acceptance of Filipino mestizaje; expanding whiteness in order to reaffirm and reify the binary of white/native and American/Filipino.

      Despite the opportunities to self-invent afforded by a position within colonial education, there were limits to the teachers’ ability to behave as they pleased. Teachers were vulnerable to the judgments of other Americans and Filipinos in their communities; adverse opinions could result not only in censure or being passed over for a raise or promotion, but even in teachers being dismissed if they were perceived to be acting inappropriately for their position. Just as the markers of status were self-reinforcing, so too were the behaviors that could lead to a loss of power and influence, and, in extreme cases, a loss of white or American rank. For white men, perceived offensives against gendered and classed notions of status, such as drinking to excess or marrying a Filipino woman of low class, could lead to a loss of the privileges of that identity. Some of the same perceived vices could also lead to a loss of status for white women, though the ultimate transgression that could lead to transfer or dismissal was sexual indiscretion. A primary test for white male teachers was whether they could exercise manly self-control in the face of temptation. While giving advice to new arrivals, the Director of Education, W. W. Marquardt, warned against drinking too much, as it was “mighty easy to slide down hill over here.” At the same time, he declared “a man who can use liquor and not abuse it, is a stronger man than one who is afraid to use it at all.”57 True manly self-command, for Marquardt, was evidenced not from abstaining absolutely, but from being able to partake in moderation. A few teachers in the early years of American education, men as well as women, were dismissed for indulging too freely.58 Whether a teacher was discharged for the consumption of alcohol seems to have depended on a number of factors, including the personality of the division superintendent. Some of the 57 58

Marquardt, “Advice to New Teachers,” 160, vol. 6, box 5, Marquardt Papers. See, for example, Moses, diary entry, August 26, 1901, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 5; Moore, diary entry, August 28, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Moore papers; and Cole, Letter to Dear Folks, August 23, 1901, folder 2, box 1, Harry and Mary Cole Papers, Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

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single male teachers certainly do seem to have imbibed regularly, especially those stationed near military regiments.59 The crucial points seem to have been whether teachers were visibly drunk, and whether their behavior would reflect poorly on the Bureau of Public Instruction.60 The worst transgression for many teachers was degenerating so far as to fall in love with or marry a Filipina, especially of a low class. Despite the prejudice against intermarriage, several American teachers married women from the towns in which they were stationed, usually daughters of the local elite. American reactions to these unions varied widely from town to town, and often depended on the wealth and status of the Filipino family married into, as well as the personal feelings of the other Americans in the community, especially the teacher’s provincial superintendent. Louis D. Baun articulated the most common objection given to such matches, writing, “I do not fancy the idea of Americans marrying Filipinas, though some of them are quite comely, fairly intelligent, and no doubt make good wives as far as bearing children and attending to the house is concerned. But it is much easier to get down to their level than to bring them up to our’s.”61 Despite his official role in civilizing and Americanizing Filipinos, Baun was skeptical that in a contest between Filipino and American habits, the latter would win out. The heart of complaints about miscegenation, then, revolved around the notion that it would lead inevitably to the racial degeneration of white men. John D. DeHuff recorded his own unsuccessful efforts to dissuade a friend and fellow teacher, W. A. Buck, from marrying a native woman. He traced out the declension narrative of his friend’s time in the Philippines: A victim of the inertia of the East, he lost his bearings completely. Next step, marriage to a ‘damsel mahogany brown.’ Then, gin – ‘sandpaper gin’, any kind of gin – at first a few ‘shots’ a day, then a pint, then double that amount, and often more. . . Tuberculosis and dysentery are finishing him off, but he whistles and sings the long days away and tells how he will soon be on his way back to 59

60 61

DeHuff, diary 1, passim, box 5, Willis DeHuff Papers. Philinda Rand also reported drinking beer with T.D. Anglemyer, a teacher she later married. See Rand, diary entry, January 7, 1904, folder 15, Philinda Rand Anglemyer Papers [hereafter Rand Anglemyer Papers], Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute. See Marquardt, diary entry, September 1904, vol. 1, box 6, Marquardt Papers; and Moses, diary entry, September 2, 1901, “Philippine Diary,” vol. 5. Louis D. Baun, Letter to Mother, February 9, 1902, in Serving America’s First Peace Corps: Letters of Louis D. Baun, Written en route to; and from the Philippines, September 12, 1901–March 30, 1903, ed. A. Ruth Sayer (Wakefield, RI: A. Ruth Sayer, 1971), 22.

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‘God’s Country’ with S—— and his little daughter to begin life anew! All of which merely shows how a good man can slump.62

While other America teachers had died of disease, for DeHuff it was clear that his friend’s demise was a result of his marriage. He presents Buck’s death as a narrative of racial degeneracy in empire; marriage to a native woman, the abuse of alcohol, and finally, death. All of these steps indicated a loss of manly self-control which led, inexorably, to disgrace and demise. Even if men who married Filipinas managed to avoid physical death, they often fell victim to a sort of social death in the narratives of American teachers. Louis H. Lisk, a teacher stationed in Iloilo, noted that, in the Philippines, an “American’s house was virtually a hotel for travelling Americans.” Even if the owner was not at home, “the stranger was expected to take possession of house and servants. It was really considered quite discourteous not to do so.” This hospitality had limits, however. Lisk continued that there “were a few ex-soldiers married to the low class of native scattered about the country who were not allowed these privileges.” He went on to describe one, “the lowest of the low,” who imposed on the hospitality of a teacher new to the town until Lisk and another American were able to ship him off to Cebu. Lisk concluded that the new teacher “learned that there are Americans and Americans.”63 Those soldiers who married Filipinas without money or social status, therefore, were sometimes viewed as having degenerated so far that they lost the privileges of being white and American. As teachers tended to marry the daughters of elite men, the social stigma of their marriages was not as extreme.64 Their peers might not approve of these matches, but teachers’ colonial status and the need to

62

63

64

DeHuff, “Memories of Orient Seas,” 363–4, Willis DeHuff Papers. It is true that Buck did die around that time, as it is mentioned in another account by a Thomasite. Lewis S. Thomas, Letter, August 2, 1913, in “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” 341, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Louis H. Lisk, Letter, September 27, 1913, in “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” 327–8, vol. 2, Box 6, Marquardt Papers. Both Benjamin E. Neal and Blaine Free Moore advocated the forcible removal of these men from the islands. Neal, diary entry, January 2, 1903, transcript of diary, folder 5, Benjamin E. Neal Papers, Special Collections Research Center, Syracuse University Library; and Moore to Pa and Ma, September 28, 1903, folder 5, box 1, Moore Papers. Pattie Paxton Hewitt claims in her memoir that N. Richmond Baugh lost his position as a result of his marriage to a native woman, but this does not appear to be true. See Euphemia Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 30, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute; and Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1908), 63.

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preserve amicable relations with elite Filipinos meant they did not lose their positions within empire. Yet teachers could still be socially ostracized or branded “Filipinistas.” Philinda Rand noted the case of an American teacher in her town, an ex-soldier who had married a Filipina. Rand found him “harmless,” but as he was “not considered an addition to American society here,” it was up to her and Purcell “to freeze him.”65 Whatever Rand thought of the man, then, she was not willing to expose herself to censure for failing to snub an American who had been ostracized by other Americans. Some white Americans even looked upon compatriots who married Filipino women as traitors. Russell Suter, the provincial secretary of Cavite, described Hammond H. Buck, a soldier– teacher who married an elite Filipina, as in league with “ladrones.”66 While this did not amount to a loss of the privileges of whiteness or Americanness, there could be real social penalties for marrying across lines of race and nationality. Teachers’ reactions to intermarriage often depended on the color and class of the bride. Hebert Priestley noted with complacency that one of his native teachers, Elisa Feced, had married a Mr. Woolley. Feced was “the best native teacher in town,” he declared, and spoke “English almost like an American.” In addition, she was of “mixed Portuguese, Spanish, and Bicol birth,” which was a marker of high class status.67 However, when a Mr. Cull, the secretary of the superintendent, married a Filipina, Priestley scoffed, “She is mighty mediocre looking, stub nosed, dark individual, whom I should never think of marrying. Seems to me like moral suicide to marry one of these women here.” While Cull had joined the Catholic Church to marry her, Priestley declared, “I wouldn’t have joined a street procession for her, or any of her tribe.”68 For a teacher to marry a Filipina who was wealthy, Americanized, and of partial European descent was clearly far more socially acceptable 65 66

67

68

Rand, Letter to Aunt, February 24, 1902, folder 9, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Russell Suter, Letter to Mother, March 22, 1904, Russell Suter Letters, 1902–4, Subseries 6, Netzorg Collection, Ortigas Foundation Library, Pasig, Manila. Frank Crone, the Superintendent of Education, described Buck in 1912 in slightly milder terms, as a “strong Filipinista.” Frank Crone, Letter to Newton W. Gilbert, August 16, 1912, vol. 5, box 6, Marquardt Papers. For more on Buck, see Lewis E. Gleeck, Jr., Americans on the Philippine Frontiers (Manila: Carmelo & Bauermann, Inc., 1974), 48–9. Herbert Ingram Priestley, Letter to Mother, July 5, 1902, folder 12; and H.I. Priestley, Letter to Mother, June 14, 1903, folder 23, Herbert Ingram Priestley Letters, 1901–4 [hereafter Priestley Letters], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Priestley spells her name “Eliza,” however Elisa seems to have spelled it with an “s.” H. I. Priestley, Letter to Mother, February 7, 1904, folder 30, Priestley Letters.

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than to marry a woman of lower class status and darker color, especially if such a union involved converting to Catholicism. The colonial government attempted to police who could remain in empire, and to remove Americans who were considered deleterious to the reputation of the United States by passing vagrancy laws.69 Former soldiers were particularly vulnerable to a loss of American status, especially if they did not obtain a position in the colonial government after leaving the military, and if they were seen as engaging in immoral behavior, including living in ways that evoked a lower class, Filipino lifestyle. Frank W. Carpenter, the Executive Secretary to the Philippine Commission, wrote that not all vagrants were criminals or disruptive of public order, but that as these “individuals are or pretend to be Americans,” and their behavior threatened “to bring discredit upon all that is American,” it was necessary to eliminate them from the islands.70 Misbehavior that could damage the image of the United States, therefore could lead to the calling into question of an individual’s national identity. These pretenders to American identity needed to be expelled from the Philippines in order to preserve respect for Americans and the entire colonial project. Teaching in the Philippines offered white, American men professional, financial, and personal opportunities. Still, their status was predicated on their successful enactment of civilization in the eyes of their community. While it was acceptable for white men to occasionally don G-strings and pretend to be savages, it was not acceptable to appear to choose the Filipino, and particularly the lower-class Filipino, way of living over the American. White men could act out fantasies of racial regression, but if they tried to transgress the bounds of expectations regarding race, class, and national identity in reality, they risked losing their privileged status. For white women, there was an increased sense of being watched for proper behavior. While many women had unprecedented freedom in the Philippines, this liberty was limited by the supervisory gaze of both white Americans and Filipinos. Even as they could live on their own and travel around the country on horseback, white women were expected to maintain reputations as respectable women in their communities. Teachers 69

70

Americans prosecuted under these laws could choose between going to prison and returning to the United States. For papers related to vagrancy policies and the return of vagrants to the United States, see folder 8456, boxes 522 and 523, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Frank W. Carpenter, Letter to Major-General J. Franklin Bell, May 24, 1912, folder 8456, box 523, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA.

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stationed in a provincial capital were especially aware that their behavior was being monitored. When Philinda Rand was transferred from a small town in which she was largely independent and free from supervision to a provincial capital in 1904, she reported frustration at being constantly under the eye of E. G. Turner, her division superintendent. She did not “like accounting to Mr. Turner for every move” she made, and became angry when he presumed to lecture her on “the folly of going walking on a moonlight evening.” Rand declared that she was the best judge of her own behavior, and perfectly capable of preserving her reputation and the respect of the townspeople.71 Despite the fact that single women depicted themselves as capable of taking care of themselves and being the best judges of the propriety of their behavior, there could be real ramifications if they were seen to be flaunting social mores or proper comportment. At least one female teacher was transferred, and another fired, as a result of perceived transgressions. After a “great deal of talk” about her behavior, Eleanor Donaldson was transferred to another town.72 A Miss Maxwell was fired after a relationship with a commissary clerk resulted in her being asked to leave the home of the Filipino family with whom she had been staying. Bernard Moses declared her conduct had “contributed to discrediting the American teacher and the stain will remain until it is gradually removed by the good conduct of her successors.”73 It was possible, therefore, for American women to lose their status and position within empire if they were perceived to be breaking the bonds of expected behavior. For white women to engage in loving or sexual relationships with Filipino men would have been considered even more scandalous. There is almost no mention of American women marrying Filipino men in teachers’ letters, diaries, or memoirs. It is not surprising that such matches would be very infrequent, as these relationships would have been much more controversial and frowned upon than one between an American man and a Filipina. While it was accepted, if somewhat transgressive, for white men to marry nonwhite women of a certain class, it was considered a racial betrayal, as well as a dangerous precedent, when 71 72

73

Rand, Letter to Katie, July 31, 1904, folder 18, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Neal, diary entries, October 24, 1902, July 13, 1903, and August 18, 1903, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers. While Neal does not give Donaldson’s first name, he mentioned that she was from Minnesota. The Log of the Thomas lists an Eleanor Donaldson, an alumna of the University of Minnesota, as one of the teachers going to the Philippines. See Ronald P. Gleason, ed., The Log of the Thomas (Manila: N.P., 1901), 68. Moses, diary entry, August 2, 1901, “Philippine Diary, vol. 4.

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white women married nonwhite men. Laura Gibson Smith, briefly mentioned in notes of her experiences that she had met white American women who had married Filipinos from prominent families, and that these women had been “ostracized by Americans and not accepted by Filipinoes [sic].”74 These marriages seem to have most often taken place between Filipino men who met American women while studying in the United States. Walter Marquardt, the superintendent of pensionados, recorded a handful of relationships between Filipino students in the United States and American women. That colonial officials did not approve of these relationships is indicated by the fact that the pensionado committee ruled in 1922 that government scholars who contracted marriages during their scholarships without obtaining permission from the committee would be “dropped from the rolls.”75 White women in the Philippines were clearly aware that intimate contact between themselves and Filipino men would be regarded as highly inappropriate. And yet these women often came into close proximity to Filipino bodies, either by gazing on the nude or semi-nude bodies of the Filipino men around them, or being perched in the arms of Filipinos helping them into boats. Their fascination with male Filipino bodies is not surprising, given that single American women would probably not have had the chance to see many semi-naked male bodies before. In the Philippines, though, they could stare to their hearts’ content. The bodies of Filipino servants were at once the least likely to be fully clothed of any with which the female teachers would have come in contact, and also those to which they had the most intimate access. Rand eagerly described Filipino bodies in her diary (though not in her letters home). She labeled her cook “picturesque” with a “pair of magnificently shaped legs.” Rand saw even more of a friend of her servant, who visited “without any garments whatever, except the clout,” and was “glistening with water and made a fine bronze statue as he stood with a pail in his hand.” In the same diary entry, Rand described watching her male servants and other “boys of the neighborhood” take advantage of a rain shower to bathe,

74

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Laura Gibson Smith, journal entries, “Five Years in the Philippines,” folder 8, box 1; and “Philippines,” folder 1, box 2, Laura Gibson Smith Papers [hereafter Gibson Smith Papers], Iowa Women’s Archive, University of Iowa, Iowa City. Marquardt, “Annual Report of the Philippine Educational Agent, 1921,” “Report on Philippine Education Agency for 1922,” and “Memorandum of Activities as PEA, 1922,” vol. 2, box 7, Marquardt Papers.

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writing that they looked “like bronze statues and it gives one much the same feeling of pleasure to look at them.”76 In order to mitigate the danger of intimate contact with them, white female teachers at times resorted to naturalizing and dehumanizing the Filipino men around them. The repeated use of the word “bronze,” and the idea of Filipino men being like bronze “statues” is significant, as it comes up again and again in female teachers’ descriptions of Filipino bodies.77 This “bronzing” of Filipino men was a way for American women to legitimize and desexualize their voyeurism. If protracted staring at naked male torsos and legs (and especially nonwhite torsos and legs) would normally indicate an illicit attraction, then dehumanizing those bodies by referring to them as inanimate statues could be a way to normalize an otherwise deviant act. Mentally transforming the bodies of Filipino men into statues was also a way to validate the teachers’ visual possession of them. It turned what was a semi-erotic act of voyeurism into the platonic appreciation of a thing of beauty. Just as female teachers normalized the viewing of semi-nude male bodies by racializing nonwhite nudity as asexual and natural, they would have had to do this same psychological work when they came into close physical contact with Filipino men. Some teachers, at least, resolved this potential conflict by maintaining a psychological distance from the person to whom they were physically close. It was common practice for Americans, both male and female, to be carried to shore on the shoulders of a Filipino when arriving to or departing from coastal towns on a boat. Marquardt noted that “the sensation of riding this distance on another man’s shoulders” was “unique in the extreme,” and that it felt wrong at first to use “human beings for such a work.” Before long, however, one became “philosophical in the matter” and made the best of it. Indeed, it could even be a source of fun, Marquardt concluded, by slipping 76 77

Rand, diary entry, October 2, 1901, folder 15, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Elizabeth Willis used the phrase “well-shaped bronze legs” twice while describing the partial nudity of Igorot men in Baguio. Mary Helen Fee also used this terminology in her first novel, The Locusts’ Years, describing her heroine watching a fishing banca manned by twelve men whose “naked backs were made of rippling bronze.” See Elizabeth Willis, Letter to Mother, April 6, 1911, and Willis, Letter to Mother, April 13, 1911, folder 15, box 10, Willis DeHuff Papers; and Fee, The Locusts’ Years (Chicago: A. C. McClurg & Co., 1912), 136. Teachers Benjamin Neal and William B. Freer also remarked on Igorot physique in somewhat sensual language. Neal, diary entries, December 3, 1902, and December 13, 1902, folder 5, Neal Papers; and William B. Freer, The Philippine Experiences of an American Teacher: A Narrative of Work and Travel in the Philippine Islands (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1906), 59–60.

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 .. Philinda Rand Being Carried to a Boat, circa 1901 (Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University)

money to the man carrying another American to “give your friend an unexpected bath.”78 For women, this touching could be more problematic and dangerous. In the early years of colonial governance, women traveling by boat between towns, or from island to island, were often carried ashore by a Filipino cargadore. Pattie Paxton recalled that if she and Stella Price were “lucky” when arriving in Bacolod, they could transfer from an army launch to a dinghy to an army wagon to get to shore. If there was no wagon, she reported, a cargadore would shout “diotáy,” (the small one) 78

Marquardt, “Upon Leaving Leyte,” 178, vol. 6, box 5, Marquardt Papers.

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and “rush through the shallow water to make off with Stella in his arms.” Two others would then groan “dacu,” (the large one), and “make an armchair” for her to sit upon.79 While being carried by Filipino cargadores could be interpreted as a mark of status, the act opened women to the intimate contact and judgment of Filipino men. If Paxton, as noted in Chapter 3, had a tendency to psychologically erase the presence of Filipino men during her journeys, consciousness of their proximity to and assessment of her physical form would have made this erasure more difficult. Indeed, she may have mentally negated their presence in order to remove herself as an object of the Filipino gaze.

    Notions of race and color were also changing in US empire because of the participation of black Americans in the colonial state, and their interactions with white Americans and Filipinos. Their presence in empire, especially as civilian employees and educational officials, challenged the racial binary of white/native, disrupting the equation of whiteness and American identity. In turn, interactions between black and white Americans were complicated by the project of empire, as domestic racial formations could not simply be pasted onto the context of the Philippines. The mixture of American and Philippine understandings of race created a complicated racial dynamic in the Philippines, which offered black Americans the chance to achieve professional, class, and social positions that were often denied at home. Simultaneously, the experience of empire also led some to expand their understandings of race, and to articulate their membership in a global “race of color.” Some white Americans, especially in the early years of empire, attempted to resolve the challenge of the black presence in the Philippines by imposing Jim Crow. At its core, the effort to “draw the color line” in the islands was about defining what blackness would mean in empire. At times, segregationist attitudes were applied to both black Americans and Filipinos, while others strove to clearly distinguish blackness, and the attendant discrimination, from both white and Filipino identities. The attempt to institute racial prejudice was strongly influenced by geography and by modifiers of status like employment, class, and education. 79

Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 9, Paxton Hewitt Papers.

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Racial discrimination was worst in Manila, close to the base of American power, and worst for rank-and-file black soldiers, who were lowest on the American social hierarchy by virtue of race and rank within the colonial regime. In August of 1901, Corporal Edward E. Hackett of the 40th Infantry, a black regiment recently returned home, reported to the Star of Zion that the color line had been drawn in places of public accommodation, bars and cafes especially, and that it was not uncommon in Manila to see signs reading, “No niggers allowed here.”80 Black soldiers were barred from some American-owned businesses, such as restaurants and barbershops, in Manila.81 Black soldiers were also targets of white violence. In May 1900, The Manila Times reported that F. E. Green, a former member of the 25th Infantry, was attacked by drunken white soldiers of the 20th Infantry, chased into a hotel, and would have been beaten to death if the sergeant of the guard had not arrived.82 Black officers, typically army chaplains, were also subject to prejudice and discrimination, though as officers they were at times able to force equal treatment. Theophilus G. Steward consistently pushed for recognition of his status as an officer, writing to his superiors to protest neglect and discrimination and demanding that white soldiers treat him with respect.83 An obstacle to fully drawing the color line in Manila or elsewhere in the islands was the criticism that racial discrimination was not only unfair to black Americans in the islands, but that it hurt American colonial objectives. In January of 1906, the Southwestern Christian Advocate wrote that it was unfortunate that in “the hoisting of our flag in our insular possessions there has been also transferred the American caste system based upon color prejudice.” The paper referred to a letter from John H. Whitaker, a white former teacher and now the sub-editor of the Eastern Daily Mail in Singapore. Whitaker argued that bigotry and the use of racial epithets by American soldiers and civilians had had a

80 81 82 83

“Colored Men in the Philippines,” Star of Zion, August 22, 1901, 2. Scot Ngozi-Brown, “African-American Soldiers and Filipinos: Racial Imperialism, Jim Crow and Social Relations,” The Journal of Negro History 82, no. 1 (1997): 44–5. Ngozi-Brown, “African-American Soldiers and Filipinos,” 45. Theophilus G. Steward, Letter to The Cleveland Gazette, January 19, 1900, cited in Gatewood, “Smoked Yankees” and the Struggle for Empire: Letters from Negro Soldiers, 1898–1902 (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1971), 263–4. See also “The Philippines and Their People,” Christian Recorder, March 2, 1900, 4; and Steward, “Letter from the Philippines,” Christian Recorder, May 10, 1900, 6.

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deleterious effect on relations between Filipinos and Americans.84 Indeed, the Manila Times became so concerned about the widespread use of the epithet “nigger” to refer to both African Americans and Filipinos that it called for white Americans to stop using the word altogether.85 Black civilians, by contrast, appear to have experienced less discrimination than black soldiers, because of their higher position within the colonial government. Butler reported that R. G. Woods and W. A. Caldwell, black employees in the Bureau of Constabulary, were respected and valued. In their positions, he maintained, they had to “deal with a number of Southern white men,” and there had never been a problem with their orders being followed.86 Of course, opportunities for African Americans in Manila still rested largely on the individual characters and prejudices of the heads of different offices and bureaus. Dr. James H. Fitzbutler was denied a position in the Bureau of Health in 1905 because of his race, though he eventually found employment with the Bureau of Agriculture, whose director, a Mississippian, decried racial prejudice.87 African Americans in Manila pushed back against this discrimination. In March of 1905, W. Cameron Forbes, then the Secretary of Commerce and Police, reported that a “delegation of colored men” had called on him, asking for “redress from discrimination,” and recounting instances of black men being denied positions because of their race. While Forbes promised to “take the matter under consideration,” he seemed more inclined to promote African American homesteading than to seriously contemplate equal hiring practices in the capital.88 Despite the evidence of racial prejudice in the islands, the writings of black Americans in the Philippines indicate that there was a real difference between the capital and the provinces in terms of overt discrimination. Reports of strident racial prejudice and violence were mostly confined to Manila, where the largest numbers of both white and black Americans would have congregated at one time. A higher concentration of white Americans, such as in the capital, seems to have elevated instances of prejudice and attempts to draw a color line. In places where there were fewer Americans, nationality, education, and class could trump race. 84 85 86 87 88

“American Prejudice Transferred,” Southwestern Christian Advocate, January 11, 1906, 1. Gatewood, Smoked Yankees, 243–4. John H. Manning Butler, “Beneath a Tropic Sky,” Star of Zion, September 19, 1918, 1. “Filipino Girls Not Flirts, But Bosses of Men,” Chicago Defender, May 12, 1923, 13. W. Cameron Forbes, journal entry, March 14, 1905, vol. 1, W. Cameron Forbes Papers [hereafter Forbes Papers], Houghton Library, Harvard University.

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In the provinces, then, black teachers especially would have been insulated from the worst white racism because of their position as Americans and government employees. Butler reported that the officials in the Bureau of Education were supportive and respectful, as were officers in the Signal Corps and Philippine Constabulary.89 Bedford Hunter, a soldier-turned-teacher stationed in Cagayan, also noted that he liked the Philippines because he did not encounter “the poisonous prejudice” there that he had at home, and a “man has a chance to rise according to his ability.”90 Black teachers were constantly negotiating the boundaries of race and status, from the moment that they embarked for the islands until they were settled in their stations. John H.M. Butler reported that on his journey to Manila, by way of the Mediterranean, the travelers socialized frequently, participating in literary programs, prayer meetings, cake walks, boxing bouts, a ship newspaper, and studying Spanish.91 At Malta, when he and the other masons on board went to visit a Masonic lodge with the American consul, some of the white visitors objected to his presence. Once it became clear, though, that Butler had a higher Masonic rank and “was therefore entitled to certain honors,” he noted, “there was quiet along the Potomac.” At a banquet for the masons, Butler was seated at the consul’s table and was invited to sing a solo.92 Despite attempts to exclude Butler on racial grounds, his Masonic credentials ensured his right not just to participation, but to preferential treatment. While in the Philippines, moreover, Butler attended the American Teachers’ Camp at Baguio for at least three years.93 At the camp, Butler must have interacted with white teachers on a social level. The camp was intended as a sort of normal institute for teachers, providing them with

89 90 91 92

93

Butler, “Early Experiences as a Teacher in the Philippines,” 236, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. “He Likes the Philippines,” Topeka Plaindealer, June 2, 1905, 1. Butler, “Early Experiences,” 234. Butler, “From the West to the East: Malta,” Star of Zion, April 24, 1902, 2. Butler appears to have been a 33rd degree Mason. See W. H. Quick, Negro Stars in All Ages of the World, 2nd ed. (Richmond: S. B. Adkins & Co., 1898), 208. The Teachers’ Assembly Herald 2, no. 31, May 14, 1909 [labeled 1908], 128; 3, no. 11, April 21, 1910, 47; 3, no. 30, May 14, 1910, 122. There is an H. M. Butler stationed in Pangasinan listed in the roster for 1909, but it is unclear if this refers to John H. M. Butler, who was stationed in Alaminos, Pangasinan, or Hampton M. Butler, who was stationed in Sorsogon. Butler is also pictured in a photograph of teachers at the Teachers’ Camp taken in 1912. See “American teachers and visitors at lunch, Baguio Teachers’ Camp, 1912,” photograph Ca-4–5, box 9, RG 350-P, NARA.

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 .. American Teachers and Visitors at Lunch, Baguio Teachers’ Camp, 1912 – Butler is Standing at the Back of the Room, Sixteenth from the Left (RG 350-P, National Archives)

educational lectures as well as vocational training, though it also served as a summer camp, with opportunities for recreational and competitive sports, hiking, and horseback riding. The teachers also ate their meals together in the mess hall, and enjoyed dances and camp fire nights in the evenings.94 Finally, at least one white American symbolically included Butler in the white/American community. While most white teachers did not record their interactions with black teachers, Josephine Twogood Gibson, the mother of teacher Laura Gibson Smith, did briefly mention that there was a black teacher (Butler) stationed in Tuguegarao, Cagayan, the town in which she lived, and described him as “a very intelligent man.”95 Over the 94

95

The Teachers’ Assembly Herald declared that the benefits of the camp lay in the opportunities for “physical recuperation, for intellectual stimulus, and for the renewal of social ties.” “The Advantages of Attending the Vacation Assembly,” The Teachers’ Assembly Herald 1, no. 1, April 1, 1908, 2. For more on the history of the Baguio Teachers’ Camp, see Lino L. Dizon, Baguio Teachers’ Camp (Since 1908): A Centennial Book (Baguio City: Department of Education, 2008). Josephine Twogood Gibson, journal entry, June 3, 1917, folder 1, box 1, Gibson Smith Papers.

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next several months, Gibson mentioned going to various school performances under his direction, and praised the work he did with the students. Gibson also recorded going to the house of the local missionaries for religious services every Sunday, which they held for “the few white people” who lived in the town, as the regular services were conducted in the Ibanag dialect.96 On October 8th Gibson noted that there were not many people at the services that Sunday, as Mrs. Moe, who usually led the meeting, was out of town, her daughter and son-in-law did not go, and neither did “Mr. Butler.”97 It appears, therefore, that despite Gibson’s labeling of the service as “white,” Butler attended regularly, since she bothered to remark on his absence, something that would not make much sense if he went but rarely. The conflation of “American” and “white,” of course does not mean that Butler was seen as white, but does indicate that he moved in social circles that were marked as American, and therefore white. While some white Americans attempted to reconstitute US racial hierarchies, it is clear that black Americans, especially civilians stationed in the provinces, were able to use their nationality, colonial status, class, and education to claim inclusion in American colonial privilege. Part of the attempt to create social divisions based on race, and particularly to define blackness as at the bottom of the racial hierarchy, focused on Filipino attitudes toward African Americans. A few white Americans claimed that Filipinos shared their color prejudices, articulating opposition to intermarriage or to black teachers.98 Butler also reported in July 1903 that some Filipino newspapers in Manila had opposed black immigration and intermarriage, and that one “celebrity” was reported to have said that he was afraid that marriage between blacks and Filipinos would lead to a “deterioration of the Filipino character.” While Butler asserted that a greater racial affinity existed between black Americans and Filipinos than between Filipinos and whites, and that most reasoned that “one American in office is as good as another,” he conceded that white prejudice had begun to influence some Filipinos, and that some, at least in social settings, were “diplomatic enough” to give black

96

97 98

Gibson, journal entry, June 25, 1917, folder 1, box 1, Gibson Smith Papers. Josephine also mentioned going to the “white peoples service” in her journal entry for July 8, 1917, and going to the Moe’s for the meeting for “Americans” on July 29, 1917. Gibson, journal entry, October 8, 1917, folder 1, box 1, Gibson Smith Papers. Marquardt, “American Darkies,” vol. 8, p. 76, box 6, Marquardt Papers; and memorandum, 1903, box 226, folder 1846, in RG 350, NARA.

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men “a big gate recognition.”99 The comments that Butler made reference to were likely made in response to the visit to the island by T. Thomas Fortune, a black newspaper editor and activist who had been appointed by President Roosevelt to investigate labor in Hawai’i and the Philippines, and the opportunities for black immigration there. Fortune reported that the Manila papers launched a campaign against him and his mission, and that a newspaper, The Philippines Weekly, was started by black men in the islands to respond to these attacks.100 Rather than being based solely on color prejudice, these instances of discrimination more frequently seem to have revolved around Filipino rather than American notions of hierarchy. While race mattered, it was not the only, or even the primary, category determinant of status. For Filipinos, and especially elite Filipinos, class, comportment, employment, and education played an equally important role in their assessment and treatment of black Americans. Theophilus G. Steward recorded that while staying at a boarding house in Manila, he was visited by a friend, Lieutenant Ballard. The proprietress, Maria Torrent, put him in a room with white Americans, one of whom, a government employee, objected to Ballard’s presence. When Torrent told the “boor” that “Mr. Ballard was a gentlemen and would be treated as such,” the man left the house without paying his bill. The “fiery Spanish lady” then complained to the custom house, where the man was employed, and got him fired.101 For Torrent, then, the key point in determining her treatment of Steward and Ballard was not color, but class and status. As a “gentleman,” whether this standing was determined by behavior, ability to pay, or employment, Ballard deserved respect and equal treatment. John H. M. Butler’s experience demonstrates the ways in which ideas about color, class, and status were imbricated in the Philippines. Initially, he declared, his community in Alaminos, Pangasinan, had believed that a 99 100

101

“Our Foreign Letter: By Our Able Correspondent at Manila,” Star of Zion, July 9, 1903, 2. Fortune, “The Way of the World: Now Senor, What Is It?,” Norfolk Journal and Guide, April 23, 1927, 12. For more on Fortune’s trip, see Brian Shott, “Forty Acres and a Carabao: T. Thomas Fortune, Newspapers, and the Pacific’s Unstable Color Lines, 1902–1903,” The Journal of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era 17, no. 1 (2018): 98–120. Theophilus G. Steward, draft of letter to The Christian Recorder [undated], reel 4, Theophilus G. Steward Papers, Schomburg Center for Research in Black History, New York City; and Steward, Fifty Years in the Gospel Ministry from 1864 to 1914 (Philadelphia: A.M.E. Book Concern, 1921), 339–40.

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“a colored man could not [be] learned enough to teach,” because a black regiment had been stationed in the town previously. Once the community came to know Butler, however, and particularly after he impressed the local priest, they embraced him as a learned man and effective teacher.102 The bias in Alaminos was not purely based on race or color, though this appears to have affected the way that the elite viewed the black soldiers. Yet this prejudice could clearly be modified, as Butler proved when he became a respected and valued member of the town. The decline in the number of soldiers, white and black, stationed in the islands over time would have likely decreased the overt racial animus in Manila. In the meantime, the smaller number of black teachers (and other civilians), combined with their education, higher social and class status, and the fact that they were mostly stationed outside Manila, all contributed to a starkly different racial context and experience. Life in the provinces offered black Americans the ability navigate hierarchy by using other markers of status to offset and overcome color prejudices. While black teachers reported mostly good relationships with the Filipinos in their stations, race and color could still be a factor in relations, as color and class influenced relations between Filipinos themselves. Elite Filipinos could look down upon those with Chinese blood (and deny their own Chinese ancestry), even as they recognized the status of wealthy and influential Chinese mestizos.103 Similarly, it was possible for Filipinos to make adverse pronouncements on black Americans as a whole, and yet still respect and socially recognize individual black men and women with sufficient markers of elite status. One good indication of the general relations between African Americans and Filipinos is the comparatively high incidence of intermarriage. After his tour of Luzon, T. Thomas Fortune argued that there “seemed to be a thorough understanding between the black and brown man, in so far that they married and gave in marriage and enjoyed a social intimacy which was far from being true between the whites and the Filipinos.”104 Many other

102

103 104

Butler, “Early Experiences,” 236. Butler’s claim is significant, given black soldiers’ assertions that most Filipinos were friendly to them, and without prejudice. Whether true or not, however, by contrasting himself to black soldiers, Butler made a claim to exceptional learning and qualification. For more on Chinese and Chinese mestizos in the Philippines, see Wilson, Ambition and Identity; and Chu, Chinese and Chinese Mestizos of Manila. T. Thomas Fortune, “The Filipino: The Filipinos Do Not Understand the Prejudice of White Americans Against Black Americans,” The Voice of the Negro 1, no. 5 (May 1904): 200. See also Gatewood, Smoked Yankees, 303.

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black Americans in the islands declared that black men were closer with Filipinos than white men. Butler, echoing a common refrain, declared that the few white men who had married wealthy Filipinas had “more or less” lost their “social standing.” By contrast, the black soldier who married a Filipina subjected her to “no humiliation,” and she would be welcomed by his family and community in the United States. As a result of these closer relations and marriages, he declared, there were “a number of blackbrown children upon the archipelago.”105 Despite the efforts of white Americans to define what blackness would mean in the Philippines, Filipinos tended to interpret color as one among a litany of factors that determined status and social reception. Ultimately, this would closely mirror black Americans’ own arguments about the definition of race in US empire.

    Black Americans developed two primary strands of thought on blackness and color through engaging with the process of empire, both aimed at removing race as a barrier to acceptance and success. Some, primarily soldiers, chose to identify strongly and solely as Americans, juxtaposing themselves and their national fitness against Filipinos. Others, including both soldiers and teachers, claimed a racial similarity and sympathy with Filipinos, expanding notions of a “colored race” to link both black and Filipino struggles for recognition and equality. Even black Americans who expressed racial solidarity with Filipinos, though, could still make claims for their superiority as inheritors and representatives of modern American civilization. Arguing that they were members of the “race of color,” black teachers nevertheless used nationality, class, and education to draw distinctions between themselves and non-elite Filipinos, and to mitigate against calls for immediate independence. Black race-making in empire was a transnational process. African Americans in the islands kept in close touch with their communities back home through local newspapers, and their letters to the editors of black newspapers often indicated knowledge of the content of the papers to which they wrote.106 John H. M. Butler, who had written articles for the Star of Zion since at least 1885, continued to do so while in the

105 106

Butler, “Our Foreign Letter: The Filipino Problem,” Star of Zion, June 26, 1902, 1. See Gatewood, Smoked Yankees.

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Philippines.107 He also noted that he had access in the Philippines to the Richmond Reformer, the Colored American, the A. M. E. Zion Review and the New York Age, and appears to have been a regular subscriber to The Crisis.108 Bedford B. Hunter wrote letters to the editors of black papers published in Kansas while he was in the Philippines.109 Fred D. Bonner also wrote at least one letter home that was published in a local paper.110 The debates over empire and race that raged in black newspapers in the US influenced the perspectives of black soldiers and civilians in the Philippines, just as black Americans in the islands shaped the way black audiences at home perceived the workings of race abroad. The stance of black Americans toward empire ran the gamut from strong opposition to enthusiastic support. Despite the many and varied responses to empire, black Americans were unified in viewing and understanding imperialism through the lens of domestic race relations.111 Some argued that claiming and defending an American identity obviated the possibility of racial sympathy with Filipinos. The Indianapolis Freeman declared in 1899 that the war in the Philippines was “no race war,” and that it was

107

108

109

110 111

See Butler, “To the East from the West,” Star of Zion, April 10, 1902, 2; Butler, “From the West to the East: Malta,” Star of Zion, April 24, 1902, 2; Butler, “Our Foreign Letter: The Filipino Problem,” Star of Zion, June 26, 1902, 1; Onlooker, “In the Philippines,” Star of Zion, August 7, 1902, 2; Observer, “Our Manila Letter,” Star of Zion, October 9, 1902, 7; Observer, “The Filipino: His Country and Customs,” Star of Zion, November 13, 1902, 2; “Our Foreign Letter: By Our Able Correspondent at Manila,” Star of Zion, July 9, 1903, 2; Our Correspondent, “A Foreign Letter: By Prominent Negro Editors in America,” Star of Zion, July 30, 1903, 1; Our Correspondent, “Our Foreign Letter: Regarding Our Educational System,” Star of Zion, September 24, 1903, 2; Our Special Correspondent, “Our Foreign Letter: Education Battle of Filipino Similar to Ours,” Star of Zion, May 5, 1904, 6; and Butler, “Beneath a Tropic Sky,” Star of Zion, September 19, 1918, 1. Our Correspondent, “A Foreign Letter: By Prominent Negro Editors in America,” Star of Zion, July 30, 1903, 1; and Butler, Letter to W. E. B. Du Bois, August 3, 1923, W. E. B. Du Bois Papers, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst. “A Voice From the Philippines!,” National Review, September 18, 1913, 1. The National Review was a black newspaper published in Kansas City. It appears to have only been published in 1913. “Teaching Filipinos,” Jeffersonian Gazette, September 23, 1903, 3. The debate on empire in the African American community at home and in the new insular possessions has been well canvassed. See Gatewood, Black Americans and the White Man’s Burden, 1898–1903 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1975); Gatewood, Smoked Yankees; Mitchell, “‘The Black Man’s Burden’: African Americans, Imperialism, and Notions of Racial Manhood, 1900–1910,” International Review of Social History 44, supplement (1999): 77–99; and George P. Marks III, The Black Press Views American Imperialism (1898–1900) (New York: Arno Press, 1971).

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“quite time for the Negroes to quit claiming kindred with every black face from Hannibal down. Hannibal was no Negro, nor is Aguinaldo. We are to share in the glories or the defeats of our county’s wars, that is patriotism pure and simple.”112 W. H. Jackson, a soldier in the Philippines, echoed that sentiment, writing that despite the attempts by the Philippine Army to encourage black soldiers not to fight by invoking racial violence and the recent lynching of Sam Hose, that black soldiers were “U.S. soldiers,” and so they would “go along killing, just as with other people.”113 For many other African Americans, however, there was a clear link between the black freedom struggle at home and the desire of Filipinos for an independent country. The Kansas City American Citizen opposed the idea of African American soldiers fighting other “negroes” only to face “southern hell hounds and civilized American cannibals” once they returned home.114 Some black soldiers also clearly saw things in this light, linking racial prejudice and violence to the impetus behind American empire.115 Pushed by a recognition of racial discrimination at home and in the Philippines, and identifying their own and Filipinos’ struggle for freedom, many black Americans, both soldiers and civilians, used the idea of a “race of color” to open the path for transracial recognition and collaboration. The experience of participating in empire in the Philippines broadened the context in which black Americans, especially those who became close to Filipinos, understood the struggle for racial equality. In a draft article on “The Color Problem World Wide,” T.G. Steward quoted a Filipino journalist, who wrote that the “principal causes of the evil” between Americans and Filipinos lay in “the difference which has been established between the race of color and that calling itself superior.” Observing that the writer had grouped “all the pigmented peoples” under the “race of color,” Steward argued that it was not religion that was “dividing the world but color.” While noting that African Americans usually thought “the color question an American question,” his experience in the Philippines convinced him that it was “a World-wide question,” and one which 112 113

114 115

“Ten Miles of Names,” The Indianapolis Freeman, October 7, 1899, 4. “From Our Friends in the Far East,” The Colored American Magazine 1–2, (August, 1900), 149. See also M.W. Saddler, Letter to The Indianapolis Freeman, November 18, 1899, in Gatewood, Smoked Yankees, 248. Mitchell, “The Black Man’s Burden,” 89. See, for example, Patrick Mason Letter to The Cleveland Gazette, September 29, 1900, in Gatewood, Smoked Yankees, 257; and Ngozi-Brown, “African-American Soldiers and Filipinos: Racial Imperialism, Jim Crow and Social Relations.”

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established the “most important cleavage among men.”116 Steward noted in his autobiography that he drafted this article in 1900, the same year that W. E. B. DuBois declared that the “color line belts the world.”117 Even as DuBois’s pronouncement likely influenced Steward’s conceptualization of the race of color, the beginnings of US empire, and black participation therein, also likely influenced broadened notions of what it meant to be a “colored person.”118 Butler argued that there was a similarity in the fight blacks and Filipinos were waging to have their capacity recognized. Angry at educational departments and charities in the United States that focused solely on industrial education, Butler railed against the attempt to train African Americans to “aspire to wood hewing and water carrying, while the whole world round is to be told that the race is utterly incapable of superior training.”119 In the same vein, Butler noted that despite the “derogation of Filipino ability,” the intellectual powers of the “ordinary college-bred Filipino” were both pleasing and astonishing. The battle that both Filipinos and African Americans were waging, Butler declared, was against “ignorance within and without.”120 Even as both were fighting to educate themselves, they were fighting against the disbelief of white Americans that this education was necessary and possible. Bedford B. Hunter also viewed black Americans and Filipinos as engaged in a similar struggle against discrimination. In a letter written to the editor of the National Review in 1913, Hunter declared that the clamoring of Filipinos for independence was largely due to the fact that “they have heard and seen so much of the white man’s prejudice and of his treatment of colored races, they have come to choose self- government or destruction rather than suffer the humiliations handed out to other colored races who have come in contact or under the domain of American

116 117 118

119 120

Steward, “The Color Line World Wide,” reel 4, Steward Papers. Steward, Fifty Years in the Gospel Ministry, 344; and Kramer, The Blood of Government, 13. Identification with the “race of color” could ideologically linked African Americans not only to Filipinos but to all colonized peoples. Steward wrote of two “Brahmin merchants from India” who were staying with him in his house, and who called themselves “colored men” and declared “their determination to maintain the interest of the colored races.” Steward, “The Philippines,” Christian Recorder, February 13, 1902, 1. Our Correspondent, “Our Foreign Letter: Regarding Our Educational System,” Star of Zion, September 24, 1903, 2. Our Special Correspondent, “Our Foreign Letter: Education Battle of Filipino Similar to Ours,” Star of Zion, May 5, 1904, 6.

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whites.”121 A year later, in a letter to the same man, now the editor of the Topeka Plaindealer, Hunter praised African American papers for “getting together and making a united stroke against injustice and all working in harmony with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.” If these papers would include “all colored races in your fight,” he advised, “success will sooner crown your efforts.”122 Hunter not only saw a similarity between the battles waged against discrimination by black Americans and Filipinos, but also advocated that African Americans broaden their freedom struggle to include all members of the race of color. Many black Americans who felt a sense of racial identity with Filipinos argued that the feeling was mutual. Steward reported that when he arrived in Manila he was “almost embarrassed by the attentions shown me by the common people.” He soon discovered that “race meant something to them,” as they would place their hands along those of black soldiers, saying “We are all the same.”123 Other soldiers and teachers also reported Filipinos claiming to be “the same” as black Americans.124 Butler argued that this special connection between black Americans and Filipinos especially fitted African Americans to oversee colonial uplift. “The Filipino,” he declared, was the “only Christian Asiatic,” the only member of the “race of color” besides those in the African diaspora who could be “classified as Christian.” In addition, Butler argued, Filipinos were a “civilized and not a savage people,” and had a special role to play in the “eastern question.” In this way, the “benevolent assimilation policy” blessed “the giver as much as the receiver.” Yet Butler noted there was in the islands “a lack of many things for instance in sanitary matters, household economy, and governmental affairs which emphasize the force of lives of thinkers and reformers whose fruits are seen in peoples of the Germanic races.”125 In this way, Butler both articulated a special religious and civilizational status and destiny of Filipinos, and maintained that they needed Western tutelage. Of course, through this pronouncement Butler excludes non-Christians from the Filipino identity. Implicit in this

121 122 123 124 125

Bedford B. Hunter, “A Voice from the Philippines,” National Review, September 18, 1913, 1. Hunter, “Life in the Philippines,” Topeka Plaindealer, June 19, 1914, 1. Steward, “The Color Problem World Wide,” reel 4, Steward Papers. Observer, “Our Manila Letter,” Star of Zion, October 9, 1902, 7; and “Untitled,” Indianapolis Freeman, May 11, 1901, 4. Butler, “A Close Study of the Filipino,” Daily Economist, June 11, 1906, 2. Of course, through this pronouncement Butler is also excluding non-Christians from the Filipino identity.

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pronouncement, moreover, is the claim that black Americans, as both members of the “race of color” and inheritors of Anglo-Saxon progress, were best suited to the task of fulfilling the promise of the Filipino people. By arguing for a racial identity with Filipinos, black Americans were essentially attempting to remove color and race as a significant category of hierarchy. While they argued for the removal of race as a factor in determining rank, they did not argue that all Filipinos, or even all African Americans, were equal in terms of social or class status. While advocating for black Americans to embrace all the “colored races” in their freedom struggle, for example, Hunter declared that he did not believe that Filipinos were ready “to take on all the responsibilities of self government.”126 Even as black teachers were arguing for racial brotherhood with Filipinos, they still used other markers of status, including national identity, religion, education, and class, to distinguish between themselves and some Filipinos. In this way, black teachers’ view of hierarchy adhered fairly closely to Filipino notions, though replacing a focus on color or race with an argument about their position as inheritors of American civilization. Despite a dearth of evidence on the way that black teachers socialized in the Philippines, there is some indication that black teachers would have recognized differences between themselves and less elite black men and women in the islands. In one of his letters to the Star of Zion, Butler called for sending more black women missionaries, teachers, and wives, as they would be more effective among Filipinos than white women, and would also remedy the complaint that there was “no Negro society” in the islands.127 Despite Butler’s claim that there was no black “society” in the Philippines, the islands were home to a small but dynamic black community. According to the census for 1903, there were 505 “foreignborn” blacks living in the Philippines.128 A member of the 24th Infantry reported that there were several black Americans engaged in business in 126 127 128

Hunter, “A Voice from the Philippines,” National Review, September 18, 1913, 1. Butler, “Our Foreign Letter: The Filipino Problem,” Star of Zion, June 26, 1902, 1. Gatewood, Black Americans, 323. Of course, just as with the population of white Americans living in the Philippines, this number would decrease over time. Gatewood notes that the 1918 census listed only 185 “American Negroes” living on the islands. While most of those listed were African Americans, there were a small number of people of African descent from other Spanish colonies and the Caribbean, who had migrated to the Philippines during the Spanish period. See Blaine Free Moore, diary entry, September 25, 1901, diary 1, and diary entry, November 4, 1901, folder 10, box 1, Moore Papers; and Susan T. Gladwin, Letter, October 6, 1901, in “Letters from the Philippines, 1901–1904,” 49, Rollins College Archives.

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the islands, primarily in Manila, working in hotels and restaurants, and as express men, clerks, school teachers, and that there was even one lawyer and one doctor.129 When Butler claimed that there was no “Negro society,” therefore, he was specifically referring to the lack of middleclass black women. Butler argued that specific types of black men and women would not only develop black society, but would aid in the social mission of the teachers. In November 1902, Butler advocated limited black colonization by “intelligent Negroes.”130 Other black Americans in the islands also called for the immigration of the right sort of black men and women. When T. Thomas Fortune went to the Philippines to explore the feasibility of black colonization there, he reported meeting many African Americans thriving in the Philippines.131 J.L. Waller, the editor of the brieflypublished black newspaper, The Philippines Weekly, wrote to Booker T. Washington that the paper supported T. Thomas Fortune’s mission in the islands and favored “the colonization of respectable Negroes in this country.”132 Teachers and other elites articulated a sense that the increase of “respectable” black people would bolster status and position for the entire black community in the islands. Even as they argued that race should not be a factor in the hierarchy of the islands, black Americans utilized other markers of status to distinguish between those who were fit to participate in empire and those who were not.

 Race-making in the Philippines was a complex and contested process. American notions of race evolved and expanded in the Philippines in response to the colonial dynamic. Americans whose whiteness was in 129 130 131

132

T. Clay Smith, Letter to the Savannah Tribune, November 1, 1902, in Gatewood, Smoked Yankees, 316. Observer, “The Filipino: His Country and Customs,” Star of Zion, November 13, 1902, 2. Fortune, “The Filipino: A Social Study in Three Parts,” The Voice of the Negro 1, no. 3 (March 1904): 96–8; and Fortune, “The Filipino: Some Incidents of a Trip through the Island of Luzon,” The Voice of the Negro 1, no. 6 (June 1904): 241, 245. J. L. Waller, Letter to Booker T. Washington, March 14, 1903, reel 224, container 225, Booker T. Washington Papers [hereafter Washington Papers], Library of Congress. The paper’s letterhead declared the Weekly to be a “journal devoted to the interest of Americans, Irrespective of Color, and to the material development of the Philippine Islands.” See also Fortune, “The Way of the World: Now Senor, What Is It?,” Norfolk Journal and Guide, April 23, 1927, 12.

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question in the United States became clearly recognized as white in the context of empire, provided they did not endanger that status by flaunting established expectations for behavior and association. This broadening of whiteness was a way to reinforce boundaries between Americans and Filipinos, whites and nonwhites. The elasticity of race in US empire was predicated upon a colonial system in which the categories of “American” and “Filipino” were rigidly separated. While black Americans were not recognized as white in the islands, they also benefited from their status as Americans within empire. Black teachers in particular disrupted the white–native binary, and became seen as more American than they would have been at home, especially outside the colonial capital. While some white Americans succeeded in drawing a color line, most Filipinos evaluated the status of black Americans with the same markers of status used among themselves. Even as black Americans, and teachers especially, became more fully “American” through their positions within a colonial state, many also broadened their notions of what it meant to be a person of color as a result of their experiences in the islands and their interactions and relationships with Filipinos. The experience of the Philippines enabled black American teachers to conceive of a broader racial affiliation with Filipinos, as part of a “race of color,” shaped by a white-dominated hierarchy. Still, their national identities and positions within empire also allowed them to depict themselves as effective colonizers and uplifters of Filipinos, even while sympathizing with their aspirations for recognition and equality. In essence, the evolution of understandings of race stemmed from an attempt to determine the boundaries of power, privilege, and belonging in empire.

5 A Political Education Americans, Filipinos, and the Meanings of Instruction*

Mary Helen Fee was teaching in Manila in 1907 when her first coauthored textbook, The First Year Book, came out. Upon receiving her copy, Fee eagerly showed it to one of her best students, who was living with her. To Fee’s astonishment, the girl burst into tears after looking through the book, able only to repeat the phrase, “poor Filipino trash.” Fee had previously taught the student that “poor white trash” was an expression used by “Southern negroes” as “a term of derision for those who fail to live up to the traditions of race and family.” Fee finally realized that her student was upset because in the book’s illustrations, Filipino boys and girls were either in chinelas (sandals) or barefoot and wearing camisas (loose shirts) instead of American-style dresses and suits. Fee “pointed out to her that not one Filipino child in a hundred dresses otherwise,” but this argument did not sway her distraught pupil. The children in the American textbooks wore jackets, hats, and shoes, and her student “wanted the Filipino children to look the same.”1 This episode illuminates the gulf in understanding that lay between American teachers and their Filipino students. For Fee, the children in the book were depicted faithfully, just as most Filipino children dressed. Furthermore, they were not portrayed as dirty or ugly – indeed, the frontispiece illustration even looks fairly similar to the one used for the

*

1

Some portions of this chapter were previously published in Sarah Steinbock-Pratt, “‘It Gave Us Our National Identity’: US Education, the Politics of Dress and Transnational Student Networks, 1901–45,” Gender & History 26, no. 3 (November 2014): 565–88. Mary H. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines (Chicago: A. C. McClurg & Co., 1910), 93–4.

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 .. Illustration of Children (from The First Year Book [1907])

Arnold Primer, a standard primary textbook. For her student, however, the differentiation in dress relegated Filipino children to a lower status than white ones, casting them as being essentially and permanently less than American youths. While Fee hoped that her students would learn American ways, she also wanted them to recognize and accept their difference, and to thrive within their designated stations in life. This desire to prepare students for lives as farmers or tradesmen permeated the American colonial educational system, and was reflected in Fee’s textbook. The book abounded with illustrations of little boys working in fields alongside carabaos, or water buffalos, or as carpenters and fishermen. In one, a boy was hitched to a little cart, pretending to be a carabao. This illustration was accompanied by the text, “You cannot play, Pedro. You are a little carabao. A carabao works.”2 For Fee, these lines may have seemed innocuous, merely children playing at being animals. For Filipino students, though, the lesson would have been clear: they, like the carabao, a beast of burden, must work. Teachers and other colonial educational officials argued that education would be transformative, but they did not expect this transformation to fundamentally change most Filipinos’ socioeconomic status. Instead, 2

Mary H. Fee, Margaret A. Purcell, Parker H. Fillmore, and John W. Ritchie, The First Year Book (Manila: World Book Company, 1907), 25.

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 .. Illustration of Boys Playing (from The First Year Book [1907])

colonial education was geared toward teaching Filipinos to do better in their allotted stations; to teach them to be better, more scientific farmers and craftsmen. Using the rhetoric of uplift, teachers tried to Americanize their pupils, reshaping their minds and bodies according to US standards, and holding out the recognition of civilized status as the reward for successful assimilation. But at the same time, they often denied the capacity of Filipino students to ever truly become civilized, or the equal of Americans. Instead, teachers frequently presented an essentialized vision of Filipino capacity, denigrating their students’ aspirations to white collar careers. In turn, students refused to accept this permanent second-class status, pushing back with their own understandings about civilization, Filipino capacity, and the meaning of colonial education. The publication of Fee’s book was part of a movement to write texts specifically for Philippine schools. Educators argued that Filipino children could not relate to the ideas presented in American textbooks, with their emphasis on apples and playing in the snow. American publishing companies were also enthusiastic about publishing a whole new series of books for colonial schools. While these books attempted to speak more directly to a Filipino experience, they also revealed the basic assumption of colonial education: that there were immutable differences between Americans and Filipinos, and that Filipino children ought to be trained to be good workers. The primacy of work was also present in the emphasis on vocational and industrial education in Philippine schools.

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This episode also highlights the ways in which battles over colonial education often played out on the bodies of Filipinos. The Bureau of Public Instruction and individual teachers spent an inordinate amount of time observing, attempting to reform, and exhibiting changes in public school students. The corporeal instruction provided in colonial schools, from lessons on comportment to physical and industrial education, were all geared toward creating ideal imperial subjects. The ways that Filipino youths dressed and used their bodies for work and recreation, then, became crucial markers of the successes or failures of not only American education, but of colonization itself. The type of education provided to Filipino students was a source of controversy from its inception. American educators’ plan for colonial education was influenced by schools for Native and African Americans, as well as the public schools set up in the islands under the Spanish. This included a focus on industrial education as the best pedagogical approach to prepare the mass of Filipino students for what was seen as their likely destiny as laborers, farmers, and craftsmen. While this program did not immediately take off, because of the difficulties of establishing a school system, the ambivalence of one director of education, and the resistance of Filipino parents and students, by the end of the first decade of American instruction, industrial education became increasingly central to the work of the schools.

  Whatever imperial fantasies teachers brought with them to the Philippines, and however much they wished to be Robinson Crusoes, they still had to engage with the purpose for which they were sent to the islands – teaching. Within a few months of their arrival, most of the teachers had received their assignments and had arrived in their new stations. As the American teachers prepared to begin teaching, Fred Atkinson, the Superintendent of Education, made their duties and responsibilities clear. They would teach for five and a half hours every day, one hour of which would be devoted to instructing the Filipino teachers. If they could gather up enough older townspeople, teachers could hold night schools for which they would receive an extra fifteen dollars per month.3 The division superintendents also lectured teachers on the conduct of their 3

Benjamin E. Neal, diary entry, August 27, 1901, folder 5, box 1, Benjamin E. Neal Papers [hereafter Neal Papers], Special Collections Research Center, Syracuse University Library.

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schools. Teachers were to oversee the work of Filipino teachers, but they were not to interfere “unless absolutely necessary.”4 The real mission of the teachers went far beyond instruction in English. They were expected to be ambassadors of goodwill, models of modern civilization, and subtle diplomats. Philinda Rand declared that what her superintendent really wanted her and her fellow teacher, Margaret Purcell, to do was to “make friends with the leading citizens,” to “find out who are loyal to America and recommend two for school board,” and to convince the Municipal Council to appropriate enough funds to support the schools and pass a law making school attendance compulsory.5 This was seen as crucial to winning the support of the Filipinos in their stations, particularly the elites. Such networking was essential to ensure Filipino collaboration with the colonial state. The goodwill of local elites was often critical to the success of schools in the early years of colonial education. In the first weeks in their new posts, many of the teachers reported sluggish enrollment. In order to boost their attendance, many appealed to the presidente of the town or other local officials for help. In some towns, the municipal council would institute a fine for any parents who neglected to send their child to school.6 In other areas, local policemen were simply employed as truant officers. Philinda Rand reported that the presidente of Silay, her station, had ordered the native police to find all the absent children and bring them to school.7 The choice of whether or not to attend public school was partly a reflection of class divisions. While the authorities rounded up many local children and compelled them to attend, elite families still sometimes chose to send their sons and daughters to private schools. When they arrived in Silay, Purcell agreed to teach the boys’ school while Rand took over the girls’ school, located on the first floor of a private home.8 Rand wrote home during her first months that the room was a dirty and unpleasant 4

5 6 7

8

Philinda Parsons Rand, letter, undated, 1901, folder 8, Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers [hereafter Rand Anglemyer Papers], Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute. See also Blaine Free Moore, diary entry, August 28, 1901, folder 9, box 1, Blaine Free Moore Papers [hereafter Moore Papers], Library of Congress, Washington, D. C. Rand, letter, undated, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Walter W. Marquardt, diary entry, August 23, 1901, vol. 1, box 6, Walter W. Marquardt Papers [hereafter Marquardt Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Rand, letter to Kathie, December 3, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. See also, Ralph Kent Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino (New York: Everywhere Publishing Company, 1912), 168–9. Coeducation was introduced gradually in many provinces where it was considered to be inappropriate for boys and girls to attend school together.

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 .. Philinda Rand’s Students in Silay, circa 1901 (Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University)

place for a school, and that her students consisted mainly of “sets from the poorer families as none of the better class will send their girls to the public school,” preferring instead the private religious schools established by the Spanish.9 She also declared that some of her students were bright, but they were mainly from the “better class,” while those who wore “the red table cloth skirts” were “usually very stupid,” and those who had “small pox marks are absolutely feeble minded.”10 On the back of a photograph of her students, Rand noted the poorest students wore pieces of plaid cloth tied around their waists, while the richest students wore

9 10

Rand, letter to Malcolm, undated, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Rand, letter to Kathie, December 3, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers.

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camisas and sayas (long skirts).11 At least in the first years of American colonization, then, some parents chose to send their children to private schools, both as a way of rejecting American authority and because the private schools had more elite reputations. The task of the American teachers was not only to Americanize their students, but also to make that process of uplift visible – to the communities in which they were stationed, to officials in the colonial state, and to the American government and public. This meant that the efforts of uplift focused as much on the reform of Filipino bodies, dress, comportment, and performance as on the shaping of minds. In their letters and diaries, teachers often described the physical and behavioral changes they were effecting in their charges, as well as the public recitals and assemblies they staged in order to demonstrate their progress. The colonial state, moreover, enthusiastically promoted these transformations in official periodicals, annual reports, and colonial exhibitions in Manila and the United States. Once the schoolrooms were full, the first lessons often focused on teaching American standards of proper behavior, which teachers viewed as an essential first step toward full civilization. Many teachers described their first days as a process of creating order out of chaos. When Fee was assigned to open a girls’ school in Capiz, her classroom consisted of one big room, which the Division Superintendent hoped to divide into three. In the meantime, Fee used the setup to teach her first and most important lessons in bodily comportment and control, getting her students to walk as a group quietly from one end of the room to the other, and to read silently rather than aloud. Fee exulted that, slowly, “disorder and excitement” were overcome and “the school began to show the organization and discipline to which Americans are accustomed.”12 Philinda Rand also excoriated the lack of order in her classroom and the indecorous behavior of her students. She complained that they wandered around the classroom freely, studied aloud, and spat on the floor.13 Combating this last, and worst, offense, Rand reported that after “snipping lips several times,” the students began to go to the window to expectorate.14 Rand included prohibition of this offense on a new

11 12 13 14

Rand, photograph of students, folder 5, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 85. Rand, letter to Malcolm, undated, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Rand, journal entry, October 2, 1901, folder 15, Rand Anglemyer Papers. I have been unable to find out exactly what “snipping lips” entailed, although I believe it is using scissors to make a small cut in the lip as a punishment. There is a passing reference to

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list of rules that her students learned to follow, which also prohibited studying aloud and chewing betel on the way to school.15 Beyond enforcing standards of behavior, teachers also functioned as regulators of health and hygiene. They compiled a “health index” for each child, and instructed them in the principles of nutrition, exercise, and hygienic practices.16 At times, teachers served in the role of health inspectors outside of the classroom, assisting their towns, especially during outbreaks of diseases like cholera. During the cholera epidemic of 1902, for instance, teachers were required to instruct their townspeople about the importance of boiling drinking water and the danger of eating uncooked fruits and vegetables.17 Clarion C. Gray, a teacher stationed in Sibalom, Antique, from 1912 to 1915, noted that the teachers were expected to visit the homes of their pupils to give “suggestions on domestic science, especially on cleanliness.”18 These lessons in hygiene and behavior were explicitly tied to the development of good colonial citizens. The battle to teach American standards of hygiene and comportment in the schools was aided by such tools as Adeline Knapp’s How to Live: A Manual of Hygiene for Use in the Schools of the Philippine Islands.19 Being a good citizen, according to Knapp, meant everything from taking pride in keeping the school building and town neat and clean to keeping one’s own body clean, eating wholesome food, and doing “nothing that will make our bodies less fit dwelling-places for our souls.”20 The book also linked proper behavior and cleanliness with whiteness. The illustrations in the book contrasted “wrong,” or Filipino, behaviors, with white Americans engaged in “proper”

15

16 17 18 19

20

snipping tongues in Louisa May Alcott’s Little Men, which seems similar. See Louisa May Alcott, Little Men: Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys (Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1871), 60. Rand, “Summary Written during World War II,” folder 14, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Mary Cole, a teacher stationed in Palo, also struggled to break her students of many of these same habits. To her great disgust, she discovered two weeks later that some of her girls, forbidden from spitting on the floor, had begun to do so in their desks. M. Cole, letter to Brother and Sister, October 15, 1901, folder 3; M. Cole, diary entry, October 28, 1901, folder 13, Harry and Mary Cole Papers [hereafter Cole Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Warwick Anderson, Colonial Pathologies: American Tropical Medicine, Race, and Hygiene in the Philippines (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2006), 117. Fred Atkinson, “Circular to Teachers, No. 7,” May 6, 1902, folder 6, Cole Papers. Clarion C. Gray, “The Educational Problem of the Philippines,” 2, private collection of Robert Gray. Atkinson, “Report of Fred Atkinson, Superintendent of Public Instruction,” Appendix S, Exhibit H, in Report of the Lieutenant-General Commanding the Army, in Four Parts, Part 2, in Annual Reports of the War Department for the Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1901 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1901), 379. Adeline Knapp, How to Live: A Manual of Hygiene for Use in the Schools of the Philippine Islands (New York: Silver, Burdett and Company, 1902), 88–9.

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 .. A Badly Arranged Market (How to Live, 1902)

ways of doing things. Colonial educators indelibly linked the creation of healthy, disciplined bodies with the process of Americanization. The uplift of Filipino bodies was seen as critical as the reshaping of their minds.21 21

This process was similar to efforts in the United States to assimilate and Americanize recent immigrants, though it appears that the juxtaposition of bad/native practices versus

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 .. A Market as It Should Be (How to Live, 1902)

Besides lessons on comportment and hygiene, the Bureau of Education encouraged American teachers to teach their pupils the “dignity of labor.” They were to do this by modeling a willingness to do hard, manual work themselves, and by creating opportunities for students to work, including in school gardens.22 Mary Helen Fee noted that, by

22

good/American practices was even more pronounced in colonial texts like How to Live. See Matthew Frye Jacobson, Barbarian Virtues: The United States Encounters Foreign Peoples at Home and Abroad, 1876–1917 (New York: Hill and Wang, 2000); and Nayan Shah, Contagious Divides: Epidemics and Race in San Francisco’s Chinatown (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001). On teaching the “dignity of labor,” see John A. Staunton, Jr., “The American Teacher in the Community,” read before the American Teachers’ Institute, Cebu, June 16, 1902, in “The Report of the General Superintendent of Education for the Year Ending September 1, 1902,” in Annual School Reports, 1901–1905 (reprinted) (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1954), 141. On the building of school gardens, see Rand, letter, undated, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers; Herbert D. Fisher, Philippine Diary (New York: Vantage Press, 2005), 70–1; and Fee, “The Educational Work of the United States in the Philippines,” in

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1912, every primary and intermediate school had a garden, and some schoolboys were required to maintain gardens at home as well, which were “regularly inspected by their teachers.”23 Within the curriculum of body-centered pedagogy, athletics was another important tool to reform and Americanize Filipino bodies.24 American soldiers had introduced baseball before the Thomasites arrived, and Filipinos enthusiastically adopted it. Fee reported that baseball was intensely popular in the Philippines, and that every “secondary school in the country has its nine and its school colors and yell, and the pupils go out and ‘root’ as enthusiastically as did ever freshmen of old Yale or Harvard. No Fourth of July can pass without its baseball game.”25 As early as 1903, the school at Capiz had a team and played matches against schools from nearby towns. Fee was proud of the popularity of sports like baseball, basketball, and tennis, which she saw as important tools of assimilation, teaching American values. She recorded watching her young servants play a game of baseball in the street outside the house, and declared: “Thus are the beginnings of great movements in small things. Those children got more real Americanism out of that corrupted ball game than they did from singing ‘My Country, ‘t is of Thee’ every morning.”26 Athletics in the schools had “raised standards,” as demonstrated by the fact that young Filipinos did not patronize the cock fighting pits. Fee declared that there “could be no higher testimonial to our educational work in the Philippines.”27 Games like baseball, in Fee’s opinion, not only taught American values, they redirected youths away from deleterious, Filipino amusements to healthy, American pastimes. American teachers believed that sport would teach not only American values, but would also provide the bodily reform necessary to truly absorb those lessons. Early instructors regularly bemoaned that Filipino

23 24

25 26 27

Parents and Their Problems: Child Welfare in Home, School, Church and State, ed. Mary Harmon Weeks (Washington, DC: The National Congress of Mothers and ParentTeacher Associations, 1914), 284–5. Fee, “The Educational Work of the United States in the Philippines,” 285. This is not surprising, given that the same view was becoming increasingly common in the United States. Gerald Gems has argued that, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, progressive reformers viewed physical education and sport to be an effective way to Americanize newly arrived immigrants. Gerald Gems, The Athletic Crusade: Sports and American Cultural Imperialism (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2006), 10. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 283. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 286. Fee, “The Educational Work of the United States in the Philippines,” 285.

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 .. A Game of Indoor Baseball (Softball), Probably in Tanauan, Leyte (Walter W. Marquardt Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan)

children did not play athletic games, depicting them as overly passive and in need of vigorous activity. With the popularity of baseball, Walter W. Marquardt noted, one could now find boys and girls in “all parts of the country, on vacant lots, in school yard, on little traveled streets . . . playing this popular game and building up strength and muscle in this manner.”28 Gray declared that more important than the physical improvement were the lessons in discipline that athletics taught, as the “realization of the demonstrated necessity of punctuality, regularity, judgment, and perseverance” in sport led to “realization of the value of these same qualities in professional and industrial life.”29 Some teachers, women especially, argued that athletics were particularly important for Filipino girls. Mary Fee argued that before American colonization, “the Filipino girl had no outdoor life. Now she plays tennis, croquet, basketball, and golf, and at Baguio, the mountain capital, she is

28 29

Marquardt, “Our Filipino Wards at School,” vol. 4, box 5, Marquardt Papers. Gray, “The Educational Problem of the Philippines,” 3, C. C. Gray Papers.

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 .. An Indoor Baseball (Softball) Game, Baguio, 1912, Featuring Girls’ Athletic Uniforms (RG 350-P, National Archives)

beginning to try horseback riding.”30 Indeed, many schools had their own girls’ basketball and indoor baseball (softball) teams by the 1910s, a time when women’s participation in team sports was still in its infancy in the United States. While white, American girls had to fight against the idea that team sports promoted unfeminine and aggressive behavior, Filipinas were encouraged to play basketball or indoor baseball to help them become more modern and Americanized.31 Sport was so important for 30

31

Fee, “The Educational Work of the United States in the Philippines,” 285. Baguio, located in the mountains of northern Luzon, became a popular summer destination for Americans looking to escape the stifling heat of Manila. Governor Taft wanted it to become the summer capital of the government and asked Daniel Burnham, the famed architect, to create a plan for the mountain retreat. Eventually, Baguio boasted an American Teachers’ Camp, used as a combination summer camp and normal institute. See Stanley Karnow, In Our Image: America’s Empire in the Philippines (New York: Random House, 1989), 214–15; and Rebecca Tinio McKenna, American Imperial Pastoral: The Architecture of US Colonialism in the Philippines (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017). For more on the popularity of sport among women during the Progressive Era, and the efforts of college administrations to limit competition, see Margaret Lowe, Looking Good: College Women and Body Image, 1875–1930 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003), 47–9.

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Filipino girls because they, in the view of educational officials, were hyper-feminine and overly sheltered. Gray claimed that girls who played sports became more social and self-reliant, and formed more judicious judgments.32 Teachers also recorded their satisfaction that girls’ participation in athletics forced them to wear clothes that were less restrictive than traditional Filipina dress.33 Sport promoted the reform of Filipina’s bodies and dress, which Americans viewed as a crucial step in the project of colonial uplift. Filipinos themselves were not always pleased with the new, Americanized uniforms. In 1906, W. Cameron Forbes, the Secretary of Commerce and Police, noted that female Normal School students were required to wear short skirts (which came to below the knee) and blouses to participate in athletics, and that some had refused.34 In 1918, the Bureau of Education sent out general instructions to division superintendents that skirts should be included in the official athletic uniform along with bloomers, as it was believed that “both girls and parents” would prefer it.35 This indicates that enough students and parents had complained about the bloomers to prompt a policy shift. Beyond athletic uniforms, teachers also recorded satisfaction when Filipinas in their stations wore Western clothing. Louis Baun reported that since he and his wife had arrived, many Filipinas had begun wearing American-style stockings, shoes, and skirts.36 Philinda Rand also described meeting some Filipinas from Manila who had not only American dress but also “a truly American manner.” When she went to shake their hands with “a limp paw after the fashion of these people,” she “was amazed to have it grabbed in a good grip, raised and shaken in regular theatre box style.” Even more surprising, Rand saw two of these

32 33 34 35

36

Gray, “The Educational Problem of the Philippines,” 2–3. By 1915, the Bureau of Education had introduced a “modern ‘hygenic skirt’” for girls to wear. Marquardt, “Standpoint,” 172, vol. 4, box 6, Marquardt Papers. W. Cameron Forbes, journal entry, March 29, 1906, vol. 1, W. Cameron Forbes Papers [hereafter Forbes Papers], Houghton Library, Harvard University. Marquardt, General Instructions, no. 29, July 17, 1918, vol. 609, Library Materials, RG 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park, Maryland. Louis D. Baun, letter to Mother, April 7, 1902, Serving America’s First Peace Corps: Letters of Louis D. Baun, Written en route to; and from the Philippines, September 12, 1901–March 30, 1903, ed. A. Ruth Baun Sayer (Wakefield, R.I.: A. Ruth Sayer, 1971), 35.

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Americanized Filipinas out driving in a calesa, a two-wheeled carriage, which she declared must “have astounded the people of Bacolod.”37 Teachers viewed the willingness of local women to wear Western clothing and to go about unescorted as evidence of the success of the American mission. Rand credited these changes with the influence and example of American women. When she first arrived in Silay, she reported having a hard time organizing a night school for women because they refused go out in the evenings. After much cajoling, she eventually arranged for them to come to her home for instruction from five to half past six o’clock.38 Two years later, however, Rand took her highest division class out to a river for a lesson on rivers and soil. The eight female students, who had never been to the site before, went in quilezes, another type of twowheeled carriage, while the boys walked and Rand and Purcell “policed the force on horseback.” Rand reported that they all had “an awfully good time,” and that it showed an amazing “change in ideas” on the part of the community. She compared the “horror of the people two years ago when I suggested that the girls come to the Casa Popular for evening school, and when there was some talk of putting the boys and girls in the same school,” with their field trip of that day, in which her female and male students went together “as a matter of course, and not a mother nor an aunt among them. It looks encouraging.”39 By 1910, Fee, then teaching in Manila, had also noticed dramatic changes in gender relations. She noted that Filipina girls had once been accompanied everywhere by a large escort of family and friends, even when on business. As a result, the sight of American women going about alone was both novel and shocking. Yet conditions were quickly changing. Fee reported that women could now walk about alone without having to endure comments from passing men. In addition, many upperclass Filipino families now allowed their daughters to go to school on the trolley car unaccompanied, and it was not unusual to “see three or four youngsters, all under ten, climbing on and off with their books, asking for transfers, and enjoying their liberty.” These were youth who “ten years ago would have been huddled in a quilez and guarded by an elderly woman servant.”40 In 1915, as an English teacher at the Normal School,

37 38 39 40

Rand, letter to Auntie, April 12, 1903, folder 10, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Rand, letter to Dear People, October 27, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Rand, letter to Katie, August 9, 1903, folder 10, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 127–8. “Dalaga” is Tagalog for an unmarried woman.

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Fee directed a play written by the senior class titled “A Modern Filipina.” The aptly named female protagonist, Filipina, was a recently graduated nurse, and a “vivacious girl, full of modern ideas, possessed of common sense, and capable of reasoning.”41 Fee must have been delighted at how well her students seemed to be imbibing American notions of modern femininity, and at the implicit comparison to and criticism of preAmerican gender norms.42 Not all who had noted these changes in female behavior were pleased. In a 1904 essay, Teodoro M. Kalaw, a Filipino journalist and editor, argued that English language instruction had made Filipinas “unconscious victims of modernity” who were bereft of their “native simplicity.” Insisting on being called “girls” rather than “dalagas” and reading books in English, Filipinas, Kalaw warned, would soon be “walking out alone” with “a handbag under the arm, just like bold little American misses.”43 The behavior and dress of young Filipinos, and particularly young women, took on added significance in this context, and the choice between “modern” (American) and “traditional” (Filipino) became fraught with political meaning.44

    At the same time that they were attempting to reform their students’ bodies and behaviors, teachers were also providing lessons on work and the sorts of vocations they believed their students should pursue. The question of exactly what type of schooling Filipinos should receive ran throughout the colonial period. As with schools for Native and African Americans in the US, this focus on vocational education was a reflection of the belief that the bulk of Filipinos were not capable of achieving, and 41 42

43 44

The Torch 1916: Sixth Annual Book of the Philippine Normal School (Manila: 1916), 52–4, reel 0111, Encarnacion Alzona Papers, Philippine National Library, Manila. Of course, Filipino students, male and female, often coopted facets of Americanization, merging them with a sense of Filipino nationalism. For example, Filipina students might wear Western dress on a day-to-day basis, while religiously donning mestiza costume for holidays and formal occasions, and while advocating independence. See Sarah SteinbockPratt, “‘It Gave Us Our Nationality’: US Education, the Politics of Dress and Transnational Filipino Student Networks, 1901–45.” Karnow, In Our Image, 201–2. For an excellent discussion of the politics of dress in the Philippines, see Mina Roces, “Is the Suffragist an American Colonial Construct?: Defining ‘the Filipino Woman’ in Colonial Philippines,” Women’s Suffrage in Asia: Gender, Nationalism and Democracy, ed. Louise Edwards and Roces (New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004).

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should not be encouraged to pursue, higher levels of education, but should instead focus on becoming better farmers and craftsmen. In response to the increasing emphasis on vocational education, some Filipino parents and students pushed back against policies that they viewed as an attempt to limit their educational horizons and consign them to second-class status. The Director of Education had enormous leeway to shape pedagogy, resulting in policy fluctuations throughout the first two decades of colonial education. Fred Atkinson, the first head of public instruction, believed in providing an education that generally mirrored the one being provided to Native and African Americans in the United States. Yet most instruction during Atkinson’s brief tenure, the period of setting up the schools, focused on teaching English and primary subjects.45 This was partially due to the limited number of American teachers, and partially because of the colonial government’s desire to secure the collaboration of Filipino parents in the new system of education. The exception to the rule, however, was in public schools for nonChristian Filipinos, and especially the Igorot and Moro peoples. There was broad agreement among educational officials from early on that the only appropriate education for animist and Muslim Filipinos was an industrial one. Atkinson declared in his first official report that in the Cordillera region of Luzon and on Mindanao, “the nature of the tribes makes especially important the instruction along industrial and agricultural lines, rather than along the lines of ordinary primary instruction.” Atkinson cited a report from the superintendent of Bontoc Province suggesting the construction of an industrial boarding school for Igorot children.46 Bernard Moses, the Secretary of Education, agreed with this assessment. In his report for that year, he declared that it would be “unwise” to provide 45

46

For more on Atkinson’s approach to education, see Glenn Anthony May, Social Engineering in the Philippines: The Aims, Execution, and Impact of American Colonial Policy, 1900–1913 (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1980), 77–96. Atkinson, “Report of the General Superintendent of Education for the Year Ending September 1, 1902,” Appendix A, “Report of the Secretary of Public Instruction,” vol. 607, Reports, Director of Education, 1899–1907, p. 365, vol. 933, in Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. The plan of the Philippine Commission was to create a large province for the governance of non-Christians on Luzon. This was eventually done in 1908 with the creation of the Mountain Province, composed primarily of Lepanto-Bontoc and Benguet, but also containing portions of Union, Nueva Vizcaya, Isabela, and Cagayan. For more on the creation and administration of the Mountain Province, see Howard T. Fry, A History of the Mountain Province, revised edition (Quezon City: New Day Publishers, 2006).

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Igorot children with any education but that needed to “fit them to perform more efficiently the labor necessary in their rude state.” This labor included masonry, carpentry, gardening, and farming.47 Overcoming initial local reluctance, Alice M. Kelly also began an industrial school for Igorot girls, teaching primarily weaving and embroidery.48 David Barrows also believed that Native American schools provided a model for the education of non-Christian Filipinos. After being tapped late in 1901 to head the newly created Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, he prepared for his new assignment by visiting Indian schools in the Southwest as well as the Carlisle Indian School.49 Writing to W. A. Jones, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, for help and advice, Barrows noted that Jones’s last report was “unfavorable to the boarding school for Indian pupils.”50 Despite this negative assessment, a number of industrial boarding schools for Igorots were established on Luzon between 1902 and 1907. By 1908, Barrows, now the Director of Education, acknowledged that the boarding schools had not been “an unqualified success,” as neither parents nor children liked them. While he defended the schools as necessary to educate children from small or remote villages, Barrows noted that they were “not ideal educational institutions,” and that “if carried too far” could “show all the objectionable features of Indian boarding schools in the United States.” While Barrows maintained that these institutions were the only way to reach students from isolated areas, he declared an intention to phase them out in favor of village schools.51

47

48 49 50

51

Bernard Moses, “First Annual Report of the Secretary of Public Instruction,” in Third Annual Report of the Philippine Commission, 1902, part 2 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1903), 883. Alice M. Kelly, letter, July 1, 1913, “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. David P. Barrows, letter to W.A. Jones, January 20, 1902, folder 3, David P. Barrows Papers [hereafter Barrows Papers], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Barrows, letter to Jones, January 20, 1902, folder 3, box 1, Barrows Papers. Indeed, by the turn of the century, boarding schools and the Carlisle model was losing favor among policymakers, the beginning of a larger shift toward gradual rather than immediate assimilation. David Wallace Adams, Education for Extinction: American Indians and the Boarding School Experience, 1875–1928 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1995), 308. Barrows, Eighth Annual Report of the Director of Education, July 1, 1907, to June 30, 1908 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1908), in vol. 608, Reports, Director of Education, 1908–14, Library Materials, RG350, NARA. See also Peter J. Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites: American School Teachers in Philippine Colonial Society, 1901–1913” (PhD diss., Cornell University, 2006), 587–8.

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From the beginning of American schooling in Mindanao, much of the curriculum focused on the production of curios and folk art meant for sale to tourists and government employees. Early in 1902, Emerson Christie, stationed in Zamboanga, wrote home that while his students did not have the “steady application of Dutch or Swiss children” there was originality in their work that was “particularly refreshing.” The “work” to which Christie was referring was wood carvings, hats, matting, and turbans, which the children could not make “fast enough to supply the demand” from American travelers.52 Eventually, this curriculum would spread through the entire school system, though in a more limited fashion. While the colonial administration stressed industrial education for non-Christian Filipinos from the beginning, a preference among Christian students and parents for classical education delayed the inauguration of manual and vocational training throughout the islands. When the Manila School of Arts and Trades opened in 1901, only a few Filipino students applied for admission. One student, when asked by the Superintendent of Schools for Manila why he did not attend the trade school, tapped his arm and replied, “Americans are strong here,” then tapped his head and said, “Filipinos are strong here.”53 Christian Filipinos, with greater leverage to dictate educational terms, resisted the expansion of industrial education in the public schools. During David Barrows’ tenure as Director of Education, industrial and manual instruction was introduced as a supplement to the liberal education program. As schools became more established, and the number of both Filipino students and teachers rose, the Bureau of Education assigned more American teachers as specialists in vocational programs. During this early period, however, the primary focus of colonial education was still a liberal curriculum rather than an industrial one. Indeed, Barrows defended the schools against critics in the United States and the Philippines who argued that public education, by making Filipinos despise work and aspire to become clerks, would make them unfit for productive labor. In response, Barrows laid out a vision of public education as creating a class of “peasant proprietor” farmers rather than a proletariat of laborers. A thorough grounding in reading, writing, and arithmetic would, he argued, help build a country of independent and

52 53

Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites,” 449–50. Marquardt, “Philippine Primary Schools,” 3–4, folder 1, box 6, Marquardt Papers.

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hard-working yeoman farmers.54 Despite Barrows’ dedication to a liberal education, he still viewed it as a pedagogical tool to create a better class of farmers. The primary difference between American advocates of vocational over liberal arts training, then, was not what future they envisioned for most Filipinos, but what sort of education would best achieve that goal. Until 1906, the curricular focus was kept on reading and writing, with two weekly classes on gardening for boys, housekeeping for girls in primary schools, and a little more in the intermediate grades. In his last two years as Director of Education, Barrows emphasized industrial education more heavily in the last year of primary education and in the intermediate schools.55 Programs on agriculture, shop work, and domestic science were intended to train “good farmers, tradesmen, or housewives in Filipino rural communities.”56 Yet, despite this increased focus on industrial education, Barrows declared that the main purpose of primary schools ought to be to teach children to read and write, as literacy marked the fundamental distinction between civilization and barbarism. Whatever other roles the schools embraced, he concluded, “the training in industrial arts must not be given at the expense of the training in letters.”57 While Barrows maintained an emphasis on the importance of classical education, his successor, Frank R. White, shifted the educational system to focus heavily on industrial education. This commitment to vocational training was very much in step with the new Governor-General, W. Cameron Forbes, who believed that this training would undergird the economic development of the islands. Forbes, the former Secretary of Commerce and Police, was the architect of the colonial plan for “material development,” intended to open the islands to American investment and export.58 He declared that under Barrows the schools had focused too

54

55 56 57

58

Barrows, “Report of the General Superintendent of Education for the Philippine Islands for the Period September 1, 1902, to September 30, 1903, with Accompanying Reports and Papers,” Exhibit A, in “The Second Annual Report of the Secretary of Public Instruction to the Philippine Commission for the Year Ending October 15, 1903,” pgs. 471–2/701–2, vol. 607, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. May, Social Engineering in the Philippines, 99–105. Barrows, Eighth Annual Report of the Director of Education, 16, in vol. 608, Reports, Director of Education, 1908–14, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. Barrows, Eighth Annual Report of the Director of Education, 15, in vol. 608, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. At the same time that it was increasing the emphasis on vocational and manual education, the colonial government also founded the University of the Philippines, providing higher education for a minority of Filipino students. Paul A. Kramer, The Blood of Government: Race, Empire, the United States, and the Philippines (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 309.

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much on the “manufacture of worthless things and unworkable things,” rather than providing substantial “agricultural and business training.”59 For the next two decades, industrial education would be a central focus of public education. To achieve this goal, in 1909 the Bureau of Education created a department to oversee and standardize vocational instruction. The goals of this training, moreover, went beyond providing students with skills to support themselves, and to contribute to the economic development of the country. White intended for student labor to be profitable, and emphasized the production of goods that were uniform and of high quality. Girls learned to sew, embroider, and make lace, while boys developed skills in carpentry, blacksmithing, and agriculture. Both sexes engaged in hat and mat weaving and basketry. The products of such work were sold to support the running of the schools. By 1924, the peak of industrial education in the islands, 900,000 students were doing industrial work in the primary grades.60 Officials in the Bureau of Education committed so heavily to industrial education because they believed that it would prepare Filipino youths for the futures that awaited most of them as farmers, craftsmen, laborers, and housekeepers. This vision largely mirrored the expectations that individual American teachers expressed about their students. Giving a talk on the islands during a visit home, Charlotte D. Bonner noted that the government was spending large sums to teach students to read and write, but also “to work,” in the hope that the “millions of uncultivated acres” would soon by tilled “by some of the children who are now studying under the American teachers.”61 From the beginning, industrial education was central to the Bureau of Education’s efforts to publicize the benefits of American schooling. Besides the production of saleable exports, educational officials were also focused on the visuals of the industrial program.62 From 1908 onward, photographs of these classes and of student-made handicrafts featured 59 60

61 62

William Cameron Forbes, journal entry, February 21, 1908, footnote 115, vol. 2, Forbes Papers. May, A Past Updated, 114–18. See also, May, Social Engineering in the Philippines, 113–17. In 1912, in conjunction with the Bureau of Agriculture, the Bureau of Education began a corn campaign, attempting to promote the cultivation of corn as a healthier and more lucrative alternative to rice. For more on this largely failed campaign and its connection to food scarcity in the colonized Philippines, see Theresa Ventura, “Medicalizing Gutom: Hunger, Diet, and Beriberi during the American Period,” Philippine Studies 6, no. 1 (2015): 37–68. Charlotte D. Bonner, “A Glimpse of the World,” 4, private collection of Dale Murphy. May, A Past Updated, 130.

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 .. Third Grade Class in Basketry, Arayst, Pampanga, 1928 (RG 350-P, National Archives)

heavily in the annual reports of the Director of Education. Industrial work was also invariably highlighted at provincial, national, and international expositions. The Manila Carnival, a festival held annually from 1908 to 1939 to showcase American colonization, as well as the economic development and industrial progress of the Philippines, featured industrial products made in the schools.63 Mary Fee noted that at the 1912 Manila Carnival the sale of school articles brought in $20,000.64 The real value of this exhibit, though, was not just in the money made, but also in publicizing the productive labor of the students. In the same way that the Department viewed students’ dress and comportment as signs of their social and cultural uplift, industrial education provided tangible markers of progress. The colonial state could display both students’ bodies and their labor as proof of the success of colonial education. Industrial education, and indeed all public education, took a hit in 1925 after the publication of the Monroe Report. The report was the 63

64

“Industrial Exhibition,” The Filipino Teacher 1, no. 10 (January 1908): 4. See also Genevieve Clutario, “Pageant Politics: Tensions of Power, Empire, and Nationalism in Manila Carnival Queen Contests,” in Gendering the Trans-Pacific World, ed. Catherine Ceniza Choy and Judy Tzu-Chu Wu (Boston: Brill, 2017), 260–1. Fee, “The Educational Work of the United States in the Philippines,” 284–5.

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 .. Sewing Class, Cadiz Elementary School, Negros Occidental, 1928 (RG 350-P, National Archives)

result of a comprehensive study of Philippine education by a commission of educators led by Paul Monroe of Columbia Teachers College. After completing an in-depth survey, the commission criticized many aspects of the educational system, including the operation of industrial training. It concluded that industrial education focused on profit at the expense of meaningful instruction and that students were not using the skills they learned after graduation. This report, and the backlash that it caused, triggered a shift in the system, which scaled back industrial education somewhat over the next decade.65 The Monroe Report was supportive of the goals of industrial education overall, critiquing not the theory, but the implementation of vocational instruction in the schools. Its authors argued that the system ought to focus more on educational goals and to be more responsive to the needs of the local market.66 The Monroe Commission, therefore, shared the perception of American educators in the Philippines about the fundamental limitations of the Filipino people. This view of Filipino capacity not only led educational officials to support 65 66

May, A Past Updated, 121–2. Board of Educational Survey, A Survey of the Educational System of the Philippine Islands (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1925), 59–61.

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industrial education as best suited to the abilities and needs of the mass of Filipinos, it also led them to assert, often publicly, that Filipinos were not ready for independence.

     As part of their overall assessment of Filipino capacity, American teachers spent a fair amount of time in their letters and articles discussing the aptitude of their students, as well as of the Filipino people in general, for independence. Indeed, they often portrayed themselves as the real experts on the islands and their inhabitants. The teachers argued that only those such as themselves, who had lived among Filipinos in the provinces, really knew their true nature and understood the national character.67 Many of the teachers had students of whom they were proud, yet their assessment of the Filipino people in general was often negative. Of course, some teachers did express faith in the capabilities of Filipinos. Mary B. Crans declared that she believed Filipinos to possess “a most surprising capacity for development and a zeal and eagerness for learning that cannot be too highly praised.” While she noted that “Rome was not built in a day,” she argued that Filipinos were a “Christian people with many of our own standards of morality, thanks to the long and fruitful work of the Catholic church here.”68 More teachers, however, echoed the sentiments of Herbert Priestley, who argued that Filipinos were “shamelessly corrupt in politics, as in everything else” and “generally grossly incompetent.”69 In her published memoir on teaching in the Philippines, Mary Fee used the language of both gender and age in order to depict Filipinos as not fully civilized and to undercut their ability to govern themselves. While she declared that it would be foolish “to spend time discussing the Filipino’s aptitude for self-government,” because wiser “heads than mine have already arrived at a hopeless impasse of opinion on that point,” she had quite a lot to say about the Filipino character and capacity.70

67 68 69 70

See, for example, Harry Cole, Letter to Mother and Leon, May 26, 1902, folder 6, and H. Cole, letter to Mother, April 30, 1903, folder 10, Cole Papers. Mary B. Crans, “My First Two Years in the Philippines,” vol. 2, p. 242, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Herbert Ingram Priestley, letter to Mother, January 31, 1904, folder 29, Herbert Ingram Priestley Letters, 1901–4, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 133.

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She described the condition of the working classes as desperately bad, though of their own making, and as a result of a repugnance to real work.71 Her evaluation of the upper classes was hardly better. She claimed that elite Filipinos wanted the best for their country, but only so that they might be recognized as the equal of other nations, rather than for its own sake. This, she argued, was a natural result of the fact that: All the natural laws of development are turned around in the Philippines, and motives which should belong to the crowning years of a nation’s life seem to have become mixed in at the beginning . . . The Filipino is like an orphan baby, not allowed to have his cramps and colic and to cut his teeth in the decent retirement of the parental nursery, but dragged out instead into distressing publicity, told that his wails are louder, his digestive habits more uncertain, his milk teeth more unsatisfactory, than the wails or the digestive habits or the milk teeth of any other baby that ever went through the developing process. Naturally he is self-conscious, and – let us be truthful – not having been a very promising baby from the beginning, both he and his nurses have had a hard time.72

Fee believed that the real problem was that Filipinos were not willing to go through the natural, and to her, necessary, stages of evolution, to arrive gradually at civilization, but wanted to be recognized as equals immediately. Besides presenting the Filipino people as an undeveloped baby, Fee also gendered all Filipinos as feminine. She attributed a “femininity in the race” to the fact that “consciousness of personal importance” shaped Filipino conduct more than “perfectly defined ideals.” In elaborating this point, she differentiated between masculine pride, which centered “largely in loyalty to well-defined ideals of what is manly, or honorable, or bold, or just, or religious,” and feminine pride, which consisted of “pride in self, a kind of self-estimate, based frequently upon social position, sometimes on a consciousness of self-importance which comes through the admiration of men.” This type of pride was “likely to show itself in a jealous exaction of consideration for the individual.”73 Fee did not mean that Filipino men had no traditional manly qualities, such as courage or strong wills, but that both sexes possessed characteristics “which we are accustomed to look upon as feminine,” including the “quick sensitiveness

71 72 73

Fee, “In Filipino Society,” Jasper News, May 13, 1909, 2. See also, Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 137. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 96. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 104–5.

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about rank, worldly possessions, and precedence which with us has become the reproach of the feminine.”74 In this passage, Fee takes on the tone of the ethnographer, as she discusses feminine qualities that she attributes to Filipinos while simultaneously distancing herself from these characteristics by her approach. Fee therefore undercuts Filipino claims for autonomy by both infantilizing and feminizing Filipino peoples. Moreover, by presenting this assessment of Filipinos, and implicitly setting herself against it, Fee portrays herself as a capable colonial administrator and evaluator of Filipino progress, possessing the qualities of masculine maturity. This perspective naturally had implications for the ways in which Fee viewed her pupils. Indeed, in her first expressions about Filipino capacity, Fee echoed the common belief that Filipino schoolchildren were disposed to like and respect their teachers, as long as the teacher was firm and fair. She continued, though, that every student, male or female, possessed a “desire to assert himself personally, to have the center of the stage, as it were, and speak the leading role.” This was due to the fact, Fee declared, that the “national temperament was a feminine one.”75 Philinda Rand was similarly cynical about Filipino capacity, and juxtaposed her assessment of the Filipino character with her belief in her own abilities. She reported an incident in which a Filipino soldier escaped from the guard house right across the square from her school, and ran amok shooting at other soldiers until he was subdued. Rand recorded in her diary that while her students and native teachers were afraid, she was “relieved to find that I was excited but not scared.” In her estimation, the fear that the Filipinos showed reflected their mental and emotional inferiority. “These people,” she professed, “have absolutely untrained minds and no self control.”76 In a letter to her aunt, in which she described the event, Rand explicitly linked the Filipinos’ emotional reaction to their unpreparedness for independence. She declared that she had never seen “people lose their heads quite so completely and it shows pretty well what 74

75 76

Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 106. Anne McClintock has argued that notions of gender were used as a modifier of race, for example when Zulu men were described as possessing characteristics typical of white femininity. Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest (New York: Routledge, 1995), 55. Fee, “Curb Filipino Boy,” Belleville News Democrat, April 14, 1909, 3. Rand, diary entry, February 14, 1902, folder 20, Rand Anglemyer Papers.

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would happen if they tried self government.”77 For Rand, this episode underscored not only her own fitness for empire, as evidenced by her bravery and self-command, but the general unfitness of Filipinos for self-government, a juxtaposition which only reinforced her own superiority. While both Fee and Rand could recognize individual ability in their students, they remained largely pessimistic about the potential of Filipinos for self-rule. Moreover, while stationed in Manila, Fee seems to have explicitly stated her opposition to immediate independence. In 1921, she named this publicly known opinion as the reason why she could not return to work in the Philippines.78 In contrast to Fee and Rand, John Henry Manning Butler, a black teacher, was more ambivalent in his early portrayals of Filipinos. Like Fee, Butler also used gendered language, in order to both praise and disparage the Filipino national character. Shortly after his arrival in 1902, Butler wrote an article for a black newspaper back home, in which he declared that the “educated native is every inch a man.”79 This recognition of Filipino manhood, in the context of contemporary black conversations about race and respectability, would have signaled to readers the equality, or at least potential equality, of the Filipino people. Yet only two months later, Butler wrote that the habit of keeping mistresses had produced “an effeminate set of men,” and that the Filipino woman was generally “the virile quality in family life,” running the household while men smoked and thought.80 While Butler’s pronouncements on Filipino character and capacity were typically more positive, he used the language of manhood and virility to express disapprobation of a practice that he found deeply objectionable. Butler was certainly far more sanguine about Filipino prospects for successful self-rule than most white teachers. Remaining in the islands throughout the “Filipinization” of the civil government, he argued that the Filipinos were “carrying on creditably” with the work America had begun.81 Implicitly supporting Philippine independence, Butler claimed that “no other colored race under the American flag has as bright an 77 78 79 80 81

Rand, letter to Aunt, February 24, 1902, folder 16, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Fee, letter to Charles Walcutt, January 20, 1921, “Mary Helen Fee,” box 193, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Onlooker, “In the Philippines,” Star of Zion, August 7, 1902, 2. Observer, “Our Manila Letter,” Star of Zion, October 9, 1902, 7. John H. Manning Butler, “New Education in the Philippines,” Journal of Negro Education 3, no. 2 (April 1934), 263–4.

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educational prospect as the Filipino.” While destiny had “thrown the Negro and the Filipino under the tutelage of America,” he noted that many Filipinos felt, and he seemed to agree, “that greater development is rooted in self determination.”82 The differences in Fee, Rand, and Butler’s assessments of Filipino capacity were tied to their ideas about their own roles within empire and to the ways they portrayed themselves. For both Fee and Rand, using their nationality, race, and gendered notions of self-control was crucial to establish their fitness to participate in the imperial project and to push back against the idea of female frailty. Allowing that Filipino men were able to govern themselves would have threatened their own position within empire. For Butler, allowing that Filipinos were capable of selfrule was part and parcel of his own fitness to prepare them for independence. He depicted himself as clearly more knowledgeable than Filipinos and thus suited to be their teacher, but he did not rely on tropes of unchanging racial or cultural supremacy to deny that eventual equality was possible. Encountering starkly different teaching conditions from those most of them had known before, and faced with pupils and teachers who did not speak English and who were used to very different pedagogical approaches, the Thomasites often responded with frustration and cynicism. Throughout the early years of colonial education, some American teachers expressed skepticism about the instruction they were providing and the good it was accomplishing. When teachers’ pessimism about the efficacy of popular education became too apparent, their students proved willing to stand up in defense of their national and individual capacity. As time went on, Filipino students and teachers both became more willing to challenge the authority of American instructors as arbiters of their national progress, and to articulate their own demands for personal dignity and national autonomy. Teachers like Rand and Fee, who openly expressed skepticism about the abilities or potential of Filipinos, at times found themselves in direct conflict with their students. In A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, Fee recorded an incident that shed some light on her students’ selfperception and the education they were receiving. While teaching at the Manila School of Arts and Trades, Fee advised her class to “stick to simple, direct sentences, since they would never have any use for a literary

82

Butler, “New Education in the Philippines,” 267–8.

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style in English.” Several students instantly disputed this statement and “insisted that they were capable of acquiring the best literary style.” Fee replied that there was a difference between literary and colloquial English, and that “what they needed was plain, precise English as a medium of exchange in business” and that even in America “the percentage of great writers and speakers always had been small and always would be so.” In response to this, one of her students, the son of a newspaper editor, stood up and replied: “Yes, madame, what you say of Americans is true. But we are different. We are a literary people. We are only millions, but we have hundreds and thousands of orators. We have the literary sense for all languages.”83 Fee noted this interchange as a way to demonstrate the tenacity with which Filipino students clung to their beliefs, even in the face of their teachers’ opposition. Rather than perceiving this as a sign of Filipino determination to have their ability recognized, she disparaged this practice as her students inadvertently making fools of themselves. This episode demonstrates the conflict that could result from teachers’ and students’ differing interpretations of Filipino capacity. For Fee, her students only needed to obtain a basic level of proficiency. For her students, however, mere competency was insufficient – they believed all Filipinos had a special capacity for language and oratory, and would not be satisfied with anything less than the highest form of English fluency. Her students’ insistence that they were the best judges of their national capacity challenged Fee’s conception of her imperial role as the assessor of Filipino ability and progress.84 If education was part of the prerequisite to independence, then Filipino students would not accept anything less than the best, which would demonstrate their fitness for self-rule. Despite her use of the rhetoric of uplift, which justified her presence in the Philippines, Fee had trouble realizing or validating the aspirations of those she taught, and never really allowed that Filipinos could become “American” or truly “civilized.” Clashes such as these revealed the gulf between the expectations of many American teachers and those of their students regarding the purpose of education and Filipino capacity. It was precisely this chasm of understanding that would lead to conflicts 83 84

Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 89. As Kimberly Alidio has argued, the system of colonial education “allowed Filipinos to reinterpret and contest tutelage and racial representations” and to “assert themselves as proper colonial subjects, partly in the effort to hold the U.S. to its claims to develop the Filipino people towards nationhood and modernization.” Kimberly A. Alidio, “Between Civilizing Mission and Ethnic Assimilation: Racial Discourse, U.S. Colonial Education and Filipino Ethnicity, 1901–1946,” (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 2001), 273.

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between teachers and students further down the road, and to the disillusionment of many American teachers as the colonial government increasingly supported Filipino demands for greater self-governance.

    The education provided by the United States was fundamentally political. Beyond its focus on industrial education, the subjects actually covered in classes could also lead to conflicts between American teachers and their pupils. American teachers attempted to teach their students to be both loyal American nationals and patriotic Filipinos, a process fraught with inherent contradictions. Attempting to teach lessons on democratic values, Mary Fee established a “self-governing society” among the three most advanced classes in her school. An election was held, and officers were elected for three-month terms. The society, Fee declared, turned out to be a “pronounced success.” The students enjoyed parliamentary practice as much as a new game, and the teachers put in many extra hours each week, setting up meetings and drilling the students on duty. All of the teachers were honorary members, and one was the “coach,” who sat next to the President, “giving her directions in an undertone.”85 Fee would not be so encouraging of Filipino desire for self-government that was not play-acting, however, especially when the aspirants involved did not take kindly to Americans whispering instructions in their ears. The colonial government also began a program to accelerate the Americanization of a smaller number of mostly elite Filipinos who would return to be governmental and industrial leaders, by providing specialized study in the United States. In 1903, the colonial government sent about 100 pensionados to study at high schools and colleges in the United States. Besides the pensionados, there were a large number of selfsupporting students, who worked to fund their studies. By 1912, the Bureau of Education began sending students almost exclusively to pursue graduate degrees, as the opening of the University of the Philippines made it unnecessary to send high school graduates. Especially by 1919, the pensionados were expected to pursue specialized post-graduate work that would prepare them to taken over the administration of a Filipinized, and eventually independent, government.86 If industrial education was 85 86

Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 156–7. William Alex Sutherland, “Report of the Superintendent of Filipino Students in the United States Covering the Filipino Student Movement, From Its Inception to June 30, 1904,”

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intended to create Americanized workers and farmers, this program, and the opening of the University of the Philippines in 1908, was intended to ensure the collaboration of Filipino elites with the colonial state, and the Americanization of the governing class. This attempt at Americanization through education had mixed results. Students in both the Philippines and the US expressed gratitude for the schooling they received, and a genuine sense of regard and affection for the American teachers who had provided it. Yet Filipino students on both sides of the Pacific continued to cherish dreams of an independent Philippines, using the American educational system and official imperial discourse to construct and articulate their own understandings of empire. If anything, the pensionados were particularly ardent nationalists. Indeed, the experience of traveling to the United States appears to have sharpened Filipino students’ sense of nationalism. Once in the US, they could focus on their common national identity.87 The teaching of history reveals some of the tensions inherent in an imperial republic. American educational officials and teachers had to determine how to teach both American and Philippine history, and to ensure that Filipinos drew the appropriate lessons from each. The traditional mythic narrative of American history could be problematic in the Philippines, highlighting as it did representative government and a glorious revolution for freedom. The reading of the Declaration of Independence, as part of Fourth of July celebrations in Manila in 1900, prompted Bernard Moses to reflect that there was “something amusing” about the whole proceeding, as Filipinos themselves were not to be given “full political equality” or “the right of participating at once in the affairs of the government.”88 This irony was not lost on Filipinos, either. Russell Trace, a teacher in Batangas Province, recalled that in 1903 he was

87

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920–1, Exhibit B, Third Annual Report of the Secretary of Public Instruction to the Philippine Commission for the Year Ending October 15, 1904, in Reports of the Director of Education, 1899–1907, Library Materials, Record Group 350, NARA; Larry Arden Lawcock, “Filipino Students in the United States and the Philippine Independence Movement, 1900–1935” (PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1975), 97, 260–1; and Alidio, “Between Civilizing Mission and Ethnic Assimilation,” 106, 117–18. Carlos Romulo called this process “expatriate affirmation.” Augusto Fauni Espiritu, Five Faces of Exile: The Nation and Filipino American Intellectuals (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2005), 12. Kramer has also argued that during the Spanish colonial period, the experience of going to Spain gave ilustrados a new sense of Filipino, rather than regional, identity. See Kramer, The Blood of Government, 8–9, 28, 47–8. Moses, diary entry, July 4, 1900, vol. 1, “Philippine Diary,” Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.

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teaching the causes of the American Revolution. Around this time, the paying of taxes had been enforced in Balayan, and after reciting on the causes of the war, Juliana Lopez, one of his students, declared: “Just like the Americans with us. They tax us without representation.” When some of Lopez’s classmates made fun of her for this pronouncement, she “became almost hysterical” and left school permanently. Trace explained this behavior by describing Juliana as “rather a spoiled child” whose sentiments did not reflect the attitude of her family, as he believed they were loyal supporters of education.89 Lopez, however, clearly saw the paradox of an imperial republic, and the disconnect between professed American values and their implementation in colonial praxis.90 Teaching recent Philippine history posed similar problems. Educational officials wanted to present Filipinos with a mythic historical narrative that would not challenge American sovereignty. Part of this process included selecting and promoting Filipino heroes and founding fathers. Any leaders who had engaged in armed rebellion against the United States, including Emilio Aguinaldo, would not be suitable to naturalize American rule. In the end, the Philippine Commission chose to commemorate José Rizal, the ilustrado reformer whom the Spanish executed in 1896. Because even figures like Andres Bonifacio might seem to valorize armed struggle, Rizal seemed like the perfect choice for a “Father of the Philippines.” He had never openly advocated revolution, but rather called for reform. Rizal’s writings, moreover, criticized the Spanish administration of the islands, particularly the abuses of Catholic friars, which perfectly aligned with the American narrative that distinguished between the two colonial regimes. The Philippine Commission proclaimed December 30 (the day of his execution) to be Rizal Day, celebrated much in the same way as the Fourth of July.91 While the Bureau of Education might arrange for officially sanctioned celebrations, Filipinos were still free to interpret this patriotism on their own terms. At the 1903 Rizal Day celebrations in Calasiao, Pangasinan, 89

90

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Russell Trace, “Experiences and Educational Progress in the Islands,” 378–9, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. As noted in Chapter Seven, Russell and Helen Trace were transferred away from Balayan not long after this exchange, after students at their school launched a strike because Helen slapped a student. Juliana Lopez was a member of the elite Lopez clan, which had fought for independence and suffered in the aftermath of the war. Three of Lopez’s brothers were imprisoned in 1902, and another was in exile in Hong Kong for refusing to take an oath of allegiance to the United States. Kramer, The Blood of Government, 33.

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Benjamin Neal reported, most of the school children marched in the procession, but that “many things were done to insult” the Americans, including carrying Katipunan banners and “hurrahing for Gomez,” a labor leader and nationalist politician.92 Even as they participated in officially sanctioned patriotism, therefore, Filipino children expressed this patriotism in nationalist terms, overtly challenging American sovereignty. Filipinos clearly recognized that education, and the teaching of history, was a political process. By 1919, in the context of a renewed Philippine bid for independence, Francisca Tirona Benitez and Paz Marquez Benitez (sisters-in-law) met to plan the founding of a private girls’ school that would prepare educated, modern, and patriotic young women to take their place in a sovereign nation.93 The plan evolved into the Philippine Women’s University, which attempted to combine an American-style education with Filipino tradition and nationalism.94 This approach included active engagement in independence politics, but also the instruction of Filipino history by Filipinos.95 One of the best-remembered history teachers at the school, Josefina Altiveros, required her students to bow to a Philippine flag when entering or leaving her classroom. Every week, moreover, students in her class would put on a play based on Philippine history, focusing heavily on the historical mythology of the Philippine Revolution.96 The rising nationalism in secondary schools took its most vigorous form at the University of the Philippines, which became a hotbed of independence politics. In February 1930, students staged a tableau vivant portraying the “Filipino struggle for liberty” from the Spanish period up to the present day. A tableau in the third act depicted the opening of the Philippine Assembly, the arrival and reception of Francis Burton Harrison, and his inauguration speech at the Luneta touting Filipinization.97 This

92

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94 96 97

Neal, diary entry, December 30, 1903, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers. Dominador Gómez, an ilustrado contemporary of Rizal’s, was a labor leader and member of the Nationalist Party. For more on Gómez, see Michael Cullinane, Ilustrado Politics: Filipino Elite Responses to American Rule, 1898–1908 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2003). By the fall of 1907, the government had begun cracking down on flags and labels bearing the insignia of the Katipunan. See Kramer, The Blood of Government, 331–2. Nick Joaquin, Hers This Grove (Manila: Philippine Women’s University, 1996), 17, 41–2. Francisca’s husband was in the United States as a delegate for the Philippine Independence Mission at this time. 95 Joaquin, Hers This Grove, 64. Joaquin, Hers This Grove, 79–81. Joaquin, Hers This Grove, 82–3, 90, 153. “U.P. Pageant Shows Historical Events in Vivid Kaleidoscope,” Philippines Herald, February 8, 1930, 7.

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portrayal of recent Filipino history as a steady march toward selfgovernance and independence demonstrates the ways in which students could celebrate a historical narrative distinct from the one presented in public schools by American teachers and the Bureau of Education. As the President of the University of the Philippines (1934–9), and later as the Secretary of Public Instruction (1939–41), Jorge Bocobo also attempted to encourage lessons in patriotism. He promoted the revival of Filipino folk dances and music, and pushed for the “inclusion of considerably more Philippine materials in the instruction, such as Filipino proverbs, legends and customs and the writings and speeches of outstanding Filipinos in the past and present.” Bocobo declared that these curricular reforms were so important to him because of the education he had received. As a Normal School student, he recalled that the teachers, all Americans, attempted to prepare their students for “leadership in the Americanization of Philippine civilization.” These teachers, Bocobo continued, did not teach the “true aims” of the revolutions against Spain and the United States. Moreover, while the purpose of the pensionado program was to Americanize Filipino students so thoroughly that the desire for independence “might eventually die a natural death,” Bocobo declared that the experiences of pensionados made them more patriotic and nationalistic than they had been before their education abroad.98

       In some ways, the decline in the numbers of American teachers began from the earliest years of the educational project. The Bureau of Education reported some difficulties with teacher retention as early as 1903.99 Another factor was the shift, under David Barrows’ administration, of American teachers from primary education into intermediate and high school teaching, specialized positions like industrial education and domestic science, and supervisory roles. In 1905, the number of American teachers was decreased from 1,000 to 861. In 1908, this number was 98

99

Jorge Bocobo, memoir, Biographical Features – Memoirs, etc. folder, box 30, Jorge Bocobo Papers [hereafter Bocobo Papers], University Library, University of the Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City. Barrows, “Report of the General Superintendent of Education for the Philippine Islands for the Period September 1, 1902, to September 30, 1903, with Accompanying Reports and Papers,” Exhibit A, in “Second Annual Report of the Secretary of Public Instruction to the Philippine Commission for the Year Ending October 15, 1903,” 474–704, vol. 607, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA.

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lowered again, to 795, although only 722 of those posts were filled. After the introduction of the policy of Filipinization in 1913, there was a precipitous drop in the number of American teachers. From 1912 to 1918, the number decreased from 658 to 406. Their ranks continued to thin out, until by 1925 the Bureau of Education only employed 305 Americans. As the number of American teachers dropped, the number of Filipino teachers rose accordingly. Yet Americans maintained control over the highest positions within colonial education.100 Although some Filipinos made their way into the upper echelons of the Bureau of Education, the top spots – the Secretary of Public Instruction and the Director of Education – remained the province of Americans, as did the majority of division superintendent positions.101 This decline in numbers must be understood in the context of Philippine and American history. While movements toward Filipino involvement in governance began during the Roosevelt administration, mostly notably with the creation of the Philippine Assembly in 1907, the real watershed moment came with the election of Woodrow Wilson, and the inauguration of a Democratic regime in both the US and the Philippines. Francis B. Harrison replaced W. Cameron Forbes as Governor-General in Manila, and promised Filipinos that “[e]very step we take will be taken with a view to the ultimate independence of the Islands and as a preparation for that independence.” To this end, Filipinos would supplant Americans in government work wherever possible.102 This policy of replacing Americans with Filipinos became known as “Filipinization,” and it did not end with the Governor-General. While the changes were not “so sweeping as might have been expected,” John D. DeHuff, the Second Assistant Director of Education, noted, “all the 100

101 102

Camilo Osias became the first Filipino Division Superintendent in 1915. In 1917, he became the Second Assistant Director of Education. The first Filipino Second Assistant Director of Education was Jose Escaler, appointed in 1916. In 1917, Alejandro Albert was appointed the Assistant Director of Education, and became the Under Secretary of Public Instruction the next year. Felix Roxas served as the Acting Secretary of Public Instruction in 1917, the only Filipino to do so before 1935. See Official Roster of Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippines Islands, 1913–35, in Library Materials, Record Group 350, NARA. Reports of the Director of Education, 1908–25, in Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. John D. DeHuff, “Memories of Orient Seas,” 385–6, Elizabeth Willis DeHuff Papers [hereafter Willis DeHuff Papers], Center for Southwest Research, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque; and Alidio, “Between Civilizing Mission and Ethnic Assimilation,” 85.

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former American members of the Commission and a number of bureau chiefs” were fired, “some of them rather unceremoniously and with considerable publicity.”103 After he was asked to resign, Forbes wrote, his bureau chiefs “almost wept in the office” out of anger. Mary Fee, now the head of the correspondence division of the Philippine Normal School, wrote to Forbes that she was “choking with rage.”104 Some of these employees, Fee included, quickly attempted to find other employment back in the United States. Others quit because they refused to serve under a Filipino bureau chief. By the end of Harrison’s first year in office, the number of Americans in government offices had declined by twenty percent, and the number of Filipinos had risen in kind.105 From this point on, many Americans saw the writing on the wall. In 1913, 500 Americans, either unwilling to serve under Filipino bureau chiefs or anticipating their own termination, resigned from the colonial service. Almost 1,000 Filipinos replaced them.106 Teachers were part of this exodus. From 1913 to 1914, the number of American teachers decreased from 612 to 538, the largest drop in employees for the period from 1901 to 1925.107 From this point onwards, Filipinos became less willing to accept that Americans ought to hold top positions, at a much higher rate of pay. In 1916, in order to encourage Americans to vacate their positions, the legislature passed the “Osmeña Retirement Act,” offering the payment of a year’s salary to those willing to retire. After the inauguration of Harrison, more Filipinos rose to positions of prominence within the colonial government. In 1915, Ignacio Villamor

103 104 105 106 107

DeHuff, “Memories of Orient Seas,” 387–8, Willis DeHuff Papers. DeHuff himself resigned not long after, to take a position in the Carlisle Indian School. Forbes, journal entry, August 26, 1913, vol. 5, Forbes Papers. H. W. Brands, Bound to Empire: The United States and the Philippines (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 108–9. Alidio, “Between Civilizing Mission and Ethnic Assimilation,” 85. Reports of the Director of Education, 1908–25, in Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. There also seems to be a certain amount of nostalgia in teachers’ recollections from this period. In 1913, the Bureau of Education requested teachers who had come in the early years of colonial education to send in their recollections of that time. These responses were collected and preserved by Marquardt. In many of the letters, teachers refer nostalgically to “the days of empire,” as though something special about the early year of colonization was irretrievably gone. See “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” 222–367, vol. 2, box 6, Walter W. Marquardt Papers. Note especially the recollections of May Faurote, “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” 276, and Louis H. Lisk, “Early Experiences of American Teachers,” 324.

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became the first Filipino President of the University of the Philippines.108 This move was lauded by the Philippine National Weekly in 1917, declaring that only “the most prejudiced anti-Filipino would deny that Filipinization has been a success,” and that the Villamor presidency had been the most successful experiment of the process.109 In addition, in 1916, the Jones Act declared a US commitment to eventual independence, and replaced the Philippine Commission with an elected Senate. Jorge Bocobo declared that these purposeful political moves “embittered the American ‘old timers’ and other American imperialists.” Yet, for Filipinos, Harrison’s steps seemed like a “New Era,” allowing them to “walk with head erect.”110

 Theoretically, the primary goal of colonial education was the Americanization of Filipino students. Yet the type of instruction implemented in the schools was specifically intended to create Americanized (and thus better) workers. Especially after 1909, educational officials thus focused increasingly on industrial education, attempting to prepare students for lives as farmers, craftsmen, laborers, and housewives. This pedagogical focus also reflected the belief that Filipinos were not ready for independence. As schools were the primary sites of Americanization – spaces in which American power was implemented on a localized, individual basis – these struggles between teachers and students, which were rooted in conflicts over race, gender, and class, became microcontests over colonization. It was the task of the teachers to civilize and uplift the Filipino youth, reforming their bodies as well as their minds. If American empire was justified on the grounds that it would 108

109

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University Council, Resolution Welcoming Ignacio Villamor, July 31, 1915, folder 9.3: UP – History of Appointment, Ignacio Villamor Papers, University Library, University of the Philippines Diliman, Quezon City. “The Most Successful Experiment in Filipinization,” Philippine National Weekly, undated, 1917, folder – Clippings, 1917–18, box 14-B, Ignacio B. Villamor Papers, University Library, University of the Philippines Diliman, Quezon City. Of course, as noted in Chapter Seven, Manuel X. Burgos, an editor for the Manila Times, attacked Villamor in 1918 as a failure, sparking UP protests against the paper. Bocobo, memoir, Bocobo Papers. For more on the transition from Forbes to Harrison, see Frank Hindman Golay, Face of Empire: United States-Philippine Relations, 1898–1946 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2010, orig. pub. Madison: Center for Southeast Asian Studies, University of Wisconsin-Madison, 1998), 173–7.

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prepare Filipinos for self-governance, then the teachers were the engines and arbiters of that progress. In the end, however, many of the teachers were unwilling to allow that Filipinos would be civilized enough for independence within the foreseeable future (or perhaps ever). By denying Filipinos racial equality and manhood (and indeed, even adulthood), and by pushing their students toward manual and agricultural careers, teachers withheld the supposed rewards of a colonial education. This gulf between the rhetoric and reality of public education made lessons on democracy and representation in the schools especially fraught, and provided grounds for students to push back against American ideas of Filipino capacity. While students were willing to defend vocally both their individual and national aptitude from the earliest years of colonial education, as the political climate of the islands changed, students’ protests became more strident.

6 All Politics Is Local American Teachers and Their Communities

In an address at the American Teachers’ Institute at Cebu in June of 1902, John A. Staunton, Jr., the deputy division superintendent for the province, laid out the guidelines for teachers’ behavior in their stations, and offered advice about how to get along in their new communities. For a teacher to be successful, Staunton began, he must be on good terms with the presidente and the padre. “If the American teacher is a statesman,” he declared, he would soon have both men working with him to develop the school. However, Staunton continued, if the teacher were “shortsighted enough” to “yield to his prejudices,” he would “leave the two greatest influences in the community unutilized or openly antagonistic.”1 If a padre was welcoming, Staunton cautioned, teachers should not spurn his friendship because of personal religious beliefs, noting, “You are sent to that pueblo in a public, not a private, capacity; as an American citizen, not as a missionary.”2 Finally, Staunton focused on the teachers’ own personal behavior, recommending that teachers dress neatly, teach by example the “dignity of labor,” and stand for “personal fair dealing” in their relations with Filipinos.3 “Of the American teacher in these islands,” Staunton concluded, “may it always be said that he is an American citizen, with an intention of working for his country in the problems before it, not a mere adventurer; that he is an educator, throwing his life 1

2 3

John A. Staunton, Jr., “The American Teacher in the Community,” read before the American Teachers’ Institute, Cebu, June 16, 1902, in “The Report of the General Superintendent of Education for the Year Ending September 1, 1902,” in Annual School Reports, 1901–1905 (reprinted) (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1954), 138. Staunton, “The American Teacher in the Community,” 140. Staunton, “The American Teacher in the Community,” 141–2.

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into the task of drawing out and uplifting his fellows, not a mere laborer drawing his salary; and that he is a man, alive to every human interest, whether or not touched by the terms of his contract with the department of public instruction.”4 Staunton’s talk can be read as representative of the expectations of the Bureau of Education and the colonial state in the Philippines about the work of the American teachers and the school system in general. Teachers were unique in the imperial project in that their roles necessarily brought them into close and sustained contact with Filipinos. While other Americans, from public health inspectors to missionaries, had daily contact with local populations, no other colonial officials had such an all-encompassing mandate, and thus, such continual interactions. This closeness was seen as not only essential to the success of the educational project, but also as part of the goal of Americanization itself. The teachers were meant to be seen and known, to serve as model Americans, to lead exemplary lives, and to present a template for the members of their communities to follow. The teachers were also the only civil employees asked to embrace such a broad mission: to not only provide an American education, but to teach and model health and sanitation and to win the hearts and minds of the whole community through the creation of good personal relations. In going beyond the normal pedagogical scope, Staunton was echoing, in part, teacher Philinda Rand’s conviction that she was expected to do the “society act,” to make friends with elites in the community, and to persuade them to support the schools.5 Staunton’s valuation of the teachers’ purview was even broader than this, however. More than just befriending elites, he advised teachers to transcend the mere terms of their contracts and to engage with “every human interest,” in order to uplift and Americanize their communities. By asking them to be “men,” the colonial government was asking teachers, in essence, to completely integrate themselves into the community in order to create deep and lasting change from within, to use suasion and their own example to convince local populations to Americanize. Teachers extended this role beyond 4

5

Staunton, “The American Teacher in the Community,” 142. Including the talk in his 1902 annual report, Fred Atkinson, the General Superintendent of Public Instruction, declared that “no better presentation” could be given of “the teacher’s life and work” in the Philippines. “The Report of the General Superintendent of Education for the Year Ending September 1, 1902,” in Annual School Reports, 1901-1905 (reprinted), 134. Philinda Parsons Rand, letter, undated, 1901, folder 8, Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers [hereafter Rand Anglemyer Papers], Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute.

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their schools, into their communities, their own homes and in their relations with all Filipinos within their reach. While teachers may have heeded the call of the state, Staunton’s address also illuminates the ways in which the mission assigned to teachers was almost destined to fall short of its design. Part and parcel of this goal was the exercise of personal diplomacy, to avoid giving offense or creating resentment. Teachers were to take care not to seek or engage in a fight with the political and religious leaders of their town. This injunction, however, failed to recognize that educational reform and Americanization were fundamentally political issues, and that as teachers became important members of their communities, as tangible representatives of American governance, they were necessarily drawn into (and sometimes provoked) religious and political battles. Teachers found themselves caught in the contradictions of American empire. In a context of ongoing warfare, they were supposed to be the embodiment of benevolence, and to use suasion in contrast to the continued violence of the US Army. But the educational mission was not separate from the pacification of the islands through armed force. Indeed, just as public instruction was viewed as a tool of pacification, the establishment of the schools was predicated on military success, and backed by military authority, at least in the early years of colonization. In addition, relations between educators and Filipinos were also at times coercive, especially when suasion failed to produce results. When teachers’ missions as agents of Americanization and as social emissaries came into conflict, they were forced to choose which to prioritize; to push their official agenda and risk alienating members of the community, or to cede to local customs and desires and potentially fail to institute the breadth of change envisioned by themselves or the colonial state. While the state expected teachers to remain above the political fray, part of and yet removed from the scrum of municipal politics, the very dictates of colonial education ensured that they would become deeply imbricated in the issues and conflicts affecting the community. Once they became influential members of their communities, as they had been instructed to do, teachers could not remain outside observers of the issues with which their communities were grappling. Moreover, many teachers did not agree that they ought to be neutral bystanders in important local debates. They saw themselves as colonial arbiters of municipal disputes. Some teachers took pride in mediating conflicts between Filipinos, and in challenging the colonial state or the military by advocating on behalf of Filipinos.

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Beyond this, the experience of colonization broke down the barriers between public and private in educators’ relations with Filipinos. Politics were personal, and personal relationships were political. Teachers’ private actions became open to public scrutiny and judgment, interpreted in the light of their position as representatives of America and the colonial government. As fundamentally public figures, teachers felt justified or even duty-bound to become involved in the most intimate moments in the lives of their servants and neighbors, in the name of Americanization. In turn, the Filipinos around them became involved in their lives in ways they could not have anticipated, resisting their authority, and making their own demands. Teachers quickly discovered that the project of Americanization brought them into relations of reciprocity that they had not expected, and that their success depended on inserting themselves into existing networks of social and political power. As conflicts between municipal authorities, military officials, missionaries, and the civil administration in Manila arose, then, teachers found it impossible to maintain a neutral stance. Even if they managed to avoid taking an outright position on an issue, their daily behavior, from the people they visited to what they said and did, was interpreted in a political light. The very presence of teachers, even in social settings, was political, as representatives of the colonial state. Equally, teachers’ intimate social relations became tinged with political meaning, reflecting a deeply imbalanced power dynamic. Interactions with Filipino servants, friends, and lovers could not be separated from the context of colonialism or the dynamic of imperial politics. Many interactions between teachers and Filipinos were marked both by a notable physical closeness and psychological distance. Some teachers became intimate with individual Filipinos, engaging in loving and sexual relationships. Yet this intimacy was often fraught with misunderstanding and prejudice. Even when teachers were able to recognize individual merit, and feel real sympathy and regard for individual Filipinos, there was still often a general tendency to pronounce adverse judgments on “Filipinos” as a people, even among those who were married to Filipinas. These interactions, of course, did not take place on the basis of equality. Neither Americans nor Filipinos could forget that Americans were the arbiters of Filipino capacity and progress, and had real, tangible power over the day-to-day lives of the townspeople among whom they resided. The crux of the colonial relationship was intimacy marked by closeness without understanding, suasion backed by violence, and affection bounded by white and American supremacy.

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   Early teachers’ interactions with their communities were heavily influenced by the recent, and sometimes ongoing, trauma of warfare. The first relations formed during the process of colonization, between American soldiers and Filipinos in pacified towns, were complex and marked by a stark inequality of power.6 Soldiers were also detailed to be the first teachers in many areas of the islands. For some of these men, such as Bedford B. Hunter, George T. Shoens, and Russell Trace, the line between their assignments as soldier and teacher were blurred, as they began teaching before being mustered out of the army.7 Ongoing warfare led to ambivalence in many Filipinos’ relations with Americans, especially for those with family members who had fought, or were currently fighting against American authority. Part of the reality of colonization meant that some became friendly with individual Americans even as they continued to oppose the colonial state. Russell Trace was a soldier with the 39th Volunteers, which was stationed in Laguna, Batangas, and Cavite Provinces from 1899 to 1901. While there, Trace’s captain introduced him to the Lopez family of Balayan, one of the richest families in the province of Batangas, and asked him to give the ladies of the family English lessons. The family had strong roots in the Philippine Army, including one son still fighting against the Americans. Juliana Lopez, the second-youngest daughter, told Trace: “We are kindly disposed toward Americans personally, but are anti-American as to the government. I tell you this that you may decide as to whether or not you will teach us.” Trace did choose to teach the young women, and became friendly with the family. This meant that Trace was simultaneously fighting against and socializing with members of the Lopez family. During this period, Trace recalled that he often spent a night chasing 6

7

Jorge Bocobo, a student who eventually became President of the University of the Philippines, recalled fearing the often drunk and disorderly American soldiers stationed in his hometown of Gerona, though these same men also provided food and medicine to local families. Jorge Bocobo, Memoir, Biographical Features – Memoirs, etc. folder, box 30, Jorge Bocobo Papers [hereafter Bocobo Papers], University Library, University of the Philippines Diliman, Quezon City. Bedford B. Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, in “Early Experiences of the American Teachers,” vol. 2, box 6, Walter W. Marquardt Papers [hereafter Marquardt Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 298; George T. Shoens, letter to Frank L. Crone, May 5, 1913, in “Early Experiences of the American Teachers,” 362–5; and Russell Trace, “Experiences and Educational Progress in the Islands,” in “Early Experiences of the American Teachers,” 367–70.

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Colonel Lopez, and the next day teaching his sisters, who always knew what he had been doing.8 In 1902, as the war dragged on following General Bell’s 1901 policy of reconcentration, three of the Lopez brothers, Cipriano, Lorenzo, and Manuel, were imprisoned for five months. Trace had mustered out in March of 1901, when his regiment left the Philippines, and received an appointment as a regular teacher. By 1903, he had been made the principal of the high school. As noted in Chapter 5, Juliana Lopez left the school after becoming incensed by a lesson on taxation without representation.9 For Lopez, who had long been balancing personal friendships with her nationalism and anger at American colonialism, this colonial hypocrisy may have been the final straw.10 Even after the introduction of civilian teachers, the wartime experience of a particular island, province, or town often dictated its sentiment toward the American teachers and the schools. George C. Kindley recalled that he stayed in one town only ten weeks, as the people there were angry at their treatment by General Bell, and as a result “did not want the government, the school, or the teacher.” In his subsequent stations, though, while the townspeople did not wholeheartedly support the American government, they welcomed him warmly and supported the work of the schools.11 When a town had a military regiment stationed nearby, it could also influence the support for the schools. Frank R. White, a teacher who became the Assistant Director of Education, admitted that some of the initial enthusiasm of Filipinos for education may have been primarily due to the involvement of the military and the fear that municipal officials who did not seem eager for a school might be singled out for investigation.12 Early civilian teachers were also caught up in the tensions between ongoing war and pacification. Many teachers knew of Filipinos in their towns who had fought in the Philippine Army at one point, some quite recently. While stationed in Tanauan, one of Walter W. Marquardt’s teachers told him that one year earlier he had been fighting in the 8 9 10

11 12

Trace, “Experiences and Educational Progress in the Islands,” 367–9, vol. 2, box 6. Trace, “Experiences and Educational Progress in the Islands,” pgs. 378–9. As noted in Chapter 7, the Traces were also involved in a school protest in 1903 over the slapping of a student. It is unclear whether this incident is related to Juliana’s decision to leave school. George C. Kindley, letter to Crone, July 4, 1913, vol. 2, p. 318, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Peter J. Tarr, “The Education of the Thomasites: American School Teachers in Philippine Colonial Society, 1901–1913,” (PhD diss., Cornell University, 2006), 126–7.

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mountains, until a US Army captain sent for him to come and teach.13 Benjamin E. Neal even reported seeing one of his pupils among a group of prisoners sent to his town by a neighboring presidente.14 Especially in the early years of colonization, many Filipinos were forced to live a sort of double life: sympathizing with or even working for independence while simultaneously living among American officers and officials, trying of necessity to play the role of an Americanista. Despite the efforts of both the civilian colonial and United States governments to erase traces of warfare, teachers did not forget that they were living in a country at war. Only a few days before Staunton exhorted teachers to fully insert themselves into the lives of their communities, four American teachers, waiting to attend the Cebu institute, were murdered by outlaws while on a hike in the mountains.15 This awareness of colonial violence influenced the way teachers perceived the Filipinos around them. This was especially true for those located in provinces and towns close to ongoing fighting. Mary Cole relayed the sense that while some Filipinos liked Americans, most were merely “pretenders,” who would fight for independence if they “knew they had the chance of being victorious.” She concluded, “I think they are all deceitful and treacherous and I wouldn’t trust any of them, to any great extent.”16

13

14

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Marquardt, diary entry, September 1, 1901, vol. 6, box 6, Marquardt Papers. This teacher was probably Santiago de Veyra, who was the first cousin of Jesus de Veyra, a commander in the Philippine Army. See Marquardt, diary entry, July 17, 1901, vol. 6, box 6, Marquardt Papers, and Marquardt, diary entry, March 23, 1902, vol. 1, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Benjamin E. Neal, diary entry, November 24, 1901, folder 5, box 1, Benjamin E. Neal Papers [hereafter Neal Papers], Special Collections Research Center, Syracuse University Library. The four teachers left Cebu City on June 10, six days before the beginning of the institute. They were reported missing two days later, and the Constabulary finally found their remains in early July. The men had been robbed, kidnapped, and murdered by a band led by Damaso Tablada. It is difficult to precisely classify the armed groups in the mountainous regions of the Visayan Islands, often called pulahanes. Some had existed on the fringes of society during the Spanish colonial period, as bandits or religiously inspired rebels, and some, including Tablada, were former members of the Philippine Army as well as outlaws. After the official pacification of Cebu, many of these men remained in the mountains, evading and resisting colonial authority. For more on the war in Cebu, outlaws, and pulahanes, see Resil B. Mojares, The War Against the Americans: Resistance and Collaboration in Cebu, 1899–1906 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2004, first printing 1999), 171–85. Mary Cole, letter to Dear Folks, August 17, 1902, folder 8, Harry and Mary Cole Papers [hereafter Cole Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

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While Cole’s sense of the duplicity of Filipinos resulted in her mistrust, Blaine Free Moore displayed a rare sense of sensitivity to the Filipino perspective. He declared that some Filipinos “have been treacherous to the Americans but no more than perhaps could be expected when a foreign army is invading their native country.”17 Yet, several months later, Moore reiterated the idea that the “most marked feature of the natives in warfare is his treachery,” claiming that there were towns all over the islands that had pretended to be friendly to Americans while secretly providing information, supplies, and funds to insurrecto bands.18 Moore and Cole’s wariness about what they labeled treachery and deceit, of course, was often necessary to survival during this period. Filipinos who appeared less than friendly and obliging, whatever their personal feelings and allegiances, were opening themselves up to reprisal, especially in the early years of American occupation when detainment and torture were considered acceptable methods of interrogation. The attack on Balangiga and the subsequent retribution by the US military, which included orders to consider any one over the age of ten a potential combatant, was a stark reminder to the American teachers, especially those on Leyte, that despite the ostensible pacification of their towns, the islands were still a war zone.19 Even as they were aware of the ongoing warfare, teachers, particularly white teachers, often demonstrated a psychological denial of the reality of colonial violence. Some teachers even regarded the nearby fighting almost as an entertainment. Mary Cole noted in her diary in December 1901 that she and Harry, upon hearing cannon fire, had gone up the side of the mountain with opera glasses and seen “a great display of canon shooting,” as they watched a gun boat “firing on about 15 barotes of insurrectos who had started to Leyte from Samar.”20 John D. DeHuff also recounted an “amusing incident” that showed “in what awe the natives of the town” held Americans and how “nervous” they had become “since the recent unpleasantness,” referring to the hanging and imprisonment of

17 18 19

20

Blaine Free Moore, diary entry, December 3, 1901, folder 2, box 2, Blaine Free Moore Papers [hereafter Moore Papers], Library of Congress, Washington, DC. Moore, letter to Pa and Ma, March 2, 1902, folder 2, box 1, Moore Papers. For more on the Balangiga Massacre on Samar in September 1901, see David J. Silbey, A War of Frontier and Empire: The Philippine-American War, 1899–1902 (New York: Hill and Wang, 2007), 189–6. M. Cole, diary entry, December 23, 1901, folder 13, Cole Papers. The reality of colonial warfare, of course, would soon come home to Mary Cole, after seeing the effects of American torture.

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insurrectos. In December 1901, while bathing with several other teachers in a river near Cabatuan, one of the men threw a pebble at a young Filipino who had not noticed them. The boy “let out a yell that could have been heard a mile” and ran off as fast as he could.21 That DeHuff labeled this an “amusing incident” indicates how psychologically removed teachers could be from the violent reality of war and from the destruction that had been wreaked upon the islands. Black teachers often demonstrated a better understanding of the psychological trauma Filipinos had undergone. This is unsurprising, given their familiarity with racial terror in the United States. Noting the effect of American state violence and coercion exercised on a nonwhite population, Butler declared that thus far, Filipinos’ main experience with Americans had been the “gospel of fear,” and that “devastated fields, burned towns and many prisoners” were an “object lesson stronger and more enduring than the acts of kindness that the American would have to follow in the wake of force.”22 His appreciation of the racial dynamic of colonial violence led him to mention a debate with discharged soldiers over the “water cure.” Some maintained that it had been used with good results, though when asked whether they “thought the water cure would be practiced on white men,” he reported, the answer was always in the negative.23 Warfare thus laid the groundwork for early interactions between Filipinos and Americans. Even after the islands were largely pacified, the trauma of war continued to affect these relationships. Many of the elite families with whom the teachers became friendly had supported the revolutions against Spain and the United States. One Filipina teacher in Pattie Paxton’s school gave her a camisa that she had embroidered with the flag of the Katipunan. Hewitt noted that to “show the flag would have been a criminal offense,” but that the maestra knew she “would cherish this as a piece of her work, especially since it showed something of the emotional stress she had undergone during the last days of Spanish occupation – a subject of which she never spoke.”24 Paxton received the gift as a tangible souvenir of the Philippine drive for independence and the 21

22 23 24

John D. DeHuff, “Memories of Orient Seas,” 44, box 5, Elizabeth Willis DeHuff Papers [hereafter Willis DeHuff Papers], Center for Southwest Research, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque. John H.M. Butler, “Our Foreign Letter: The Filipino Problem,” Star of Zion, June 26, 1902, 1. Onlooker, “In the Philippines,” Star of Zion, August 7, 1902, 2. Euphemia Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 19, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute.

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emotional trauma of Spanish colonization. She seems to have been unable or unwilling, though, to acknowledge that war and colonization were very much an ongoing reality for Filipinos.

      In many ways, the expectation that teachers would steer clear of politics was unrealistic. Teachers’ political activities reflected the political nature of the educational mission. It was impossible for them to become involved in and influence the life of the community without also getting caught up in debates about the welfare and administration of the town, which were the province of municipal politics. A primary task of American teachers was to win over municipal authorities, including the presidente and padre of the town, in order to secure elite collaboration with the schools. This was a deeply political task, as the schools themselves were political, and a symbol of American power and control. In addition, teachers disrupted established networks of power by setting up schools, which usurped the authority of the padres, who had traditionally overseen schools and hired teachers. The presence of American teachers could also disrupt the political power of presidentes and local elites. Anna M. Donaldson reported that while the “younger generation seemed at all times to regard the government with friendliness,” the older people in her station viewed the Americans with suspicion. Donaldson accounted for this difference through the fact that the older generation saw “their influence slipping away,” while the young people of the town understood that “opportunity for influence lay in the new order.”25 While of course not all young people supported – nor all adults opposed – the schools, it was certainly true that Filipino youths could see American education as a pathway to advancement, while for local authorities it might represent primarily a loss of power and influence. It is not surprising, then, that attempts by the military to open schools in newly pacified towns were sometimes met with resistance. When George T. Shoens, a soldier in the 18th Infantry stationed in Dumarao, Capiz, was ordered to start a school, he visited the home of the presidente, where the padre also lived, to ask him to provide benches for the schoolhouse. Shoens recalled that the presidente “nervously answered that he would attend to the matter immediately, meanwhile casting an occasional 25

Anna M. Donaldson, “Account of First Two Years of Work in the Philippines,” vol. 2, pp. 257–8, box 6, Marquardt Papers.

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and fearful glance at the door of the adjoining room, where through a crack I could see the priest peeping and eaves dropping.” The benches were not delivered and Shoens had to return twice more, and on the last visit lifted the presidente and shook him. Soon after, the benches were delivered.26 As Shoens was a soldier, and had the authority of the military behind him, his use of violent force was an extension of the violence of warfare. The presidente was in a difficult situation, stuck between the will of the padre and the power of the US military. The latter would win in a direct confrontation. Even after the inauguration of a civil government, teachers in towns where a regiment was stationed had a source of authority to pressure municipal officials. For teachers in stations without a regiment, a hostile presidente or padre had considerably more power to interfere with or passively resist attempts to open a school. When Pattie Paxton and Stella Price were assigned to Talisay, in Negros Occidental, it became clear that the town “really did not want an American school,” as they were delayed in Bacolod for almost a month, waiting for the presidente to provide a house for them.27 Once the two women had moved to Talisay, Philinda Rand recorded in her diary that they were “having a hard time.” The town had provided a house, she wrote, “because they were forced to but didn’t give them a bit of furniture or try to do one thing for them.”28 In the end, Paxton and Price were recalled to Bacolod after only a week.29 Teachers sent to stations without an established community of Americans were dependent on accessing Filipino networks of influence. They were often totally dependent on the presidente and other elites to help them to procure a house, furniture, and even food. Even teachers who were received more kindly, therefore, immediately entered into established networks of local power. The most crucial lesson that successful teachers learned was that unless they had the firm backing of the military or a provincial governor, they had little tangible power to challenge existing municipal hierarchies. They therefore had to work with, and not against, them. In this context, success meant learning to negotiate through the proper channels of power. Buckland recounted the experience of one supervising teacher who tried to start a barrio school in a fishing village. The people fought the schools 26 27 28 29

Shoens, letter to Crone, May 5, 1913, pg. 362–3, vol. 2, Box 6, Marquardt Papers. Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 11–12. Rand, letter to Dear People, October 20, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 12.

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because their children’s labor was vital to earning a living. The supervisor made no progress until he appealed to the presidente, who went down to the barrio himself, after which a schoolhouse “was thrown up in less than a week.”30 The hierarchy in the barrios was based on a system of patronage, and the power of a principale carried considerably more weight than the moral suasion of a teacher. Even though teachers learned to work through established networks of influence, the power of the presidente was not limitless. Although the school was built in the seaside barrio, the people were still against it, as it “interfered with their control over their children’s time.” One night, Buckland related, a bonfire was built close to the schoolhouse, “and the whole thing went up in smoke.”31 Even with the support of the presidente, many teachers still faced resistance, both covert and open, from the local padre. This could be a reaction to the fear that American schools would teach Protestantism, or a reflection of anti-American nationalist fervor. Opposition was also at times aroused by the simple fact that American teachers were displacing the religious orders from their control over education. George N. Briggs recalled that on the day his school opened, most of the children in the town were attending a school in the convent, which the town’s priest had begun only the day before. The padre had declared the American schools to be “the school of the devil,” and warned the townspeople not to enroll their children. Later, he staged a procession of the convent school students, marching in the streets around the American schools, to drive out the devil. Upon hearing this, Briggs told the presidente that he was sure the exorcism had worked, and that the devil had been successfully eradicated. A bandillo, or public announcement, was sent out letting the town know that the school was devil-free, and attendance rose accordingly. Briggs concluded that once the local priests understood the real purpose of the schools (presumably non-religious education), their hostility dissipated, and many even cooperated with American educational efforts.32 30 31 32

Ralph Kent Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino (New York: Everywhere Publishing Company, 1912), 148–9. Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino, 149. George N. Briggs, Letter to Crone, August 21, 1913, vol. 2, pp. 228–30, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Not even American Catholic teachers were always able to win the support of local religious authorities. In August 1905, Edward P. Sheehan, a teacher stationed in Manaoag, Pangasinan, wrote to the Secretary of Education that the friars were against his school and had spoken against it in the community and in the local paper. Edward P. Sheehan, Letter to James F. Smith, August 30, 1905, folder 1534, box 201, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park, Maryland.

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Despite initial opposition, many padres may have decided that it was in their interest to support the schools, in order to exert more influence than they would have if they remained openly antagonistic.

    Teachers did occasionally get involved in more serious conflicts with local officials, disrupting the established networks of power and serving as mediators in municipal politics. Rather than remaining aloof from political involvement, some teachers saw it as their duty to side with their town against perceived abuses by municipal officials. Teacher William B. Freer recorded an instance in which townspeople, wishing to challenge a corrupt justice of the peace, asked the American teacher and the division superintendent for help alerting the authorities. The assistance was given, and the justice of the peace was brought to trial, convicted, and stripped of his office.33 This episode demonstrates that some Filipinos successfully utilized the authority of American teachers to challenge municipal hierarchies. This interference in established networks of influence could stir up considerable controversy. In February of 1904, David Barrows, the Director of Education, sent G. W. Beattie, the principal of the Philippine Normal School, to the island of Siquijor, Oriental Negros, to investigate claims made against teacher James R. Fugate. The presidente of the town had sent a letter to the governor of the province requesting that Fugate be transferred “because he has demonstrated his inclination to meddle with local politics and all the matters affecting the successful administration of the municipality.”34 When Beattie and the provincial governor arrived in Siquijor, however, the presidente withdrew his letter and requested that Fugate remain at Siquijor. Beattie’s assessment in the case was that the complaint originated because the teacher had been “a constant obstacle in the way of a few influential men” who had been ruling “in a very despotic manner.”35 In one instance, Beattie continued, Fugate had informed the municipal council of “their rights under the law,” thereby interfering with 33

34 35

William B. Freer, The Philippine Experiences of an American Teacher: A Narrative of Work and Travel in the Philippine Islands (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1906), 329–30. H. P. Cortes, letter to Demetrio Larena, February 3, 1904, “Report of the Department of Public Instruction,” file 41885, box 201, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA. G. W. Beattie, letter to David Barrows, May 14, 1904, “Report of the Department of Public Instruction,” file 41885, box 201, RG 350, NARA.

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the “lawless intentions of some officials,” probably including the presidente.36 Without judging the merits of the case, it is clear that Fugate, as a third party and representative of American power, had interrupted established modes of governance. Moreover, it is clear that the presidente believed, or at least hoped, that the governor would respond to his complaint by removing Fugate, thereby reinforcing his power. When it became apparent that the governor was not disposed to do so, the presidente backed down, accepting, at least for the moment, the shift in the power dynamics of municipal politics. Some teachers, including Bedford B. Hunter, intentionally disrupted local networks of power and challenged the authority of local leaders. His station, Tuao, in Cagayan, had been opposed to the schools from the beginning, and Hunter reported frequent clashes with the local elites. Noting that the Filipinos “as a rule treated us very kindly,” he declared that the town’s bosses were “afraid that we would undo them or find out too much of what was really going on,” and so did anything “they could to make our lot as hard as possible, so that we would become discouraged and leave.” While this strategy succeeded with some, Hunter declared that it only made him “more determined to stay with them.”37 The hostility of the town’s elite may also have been rooted in the history of the region as a strong supporter of independence. Hunter continued to face opposition from local authorities, who attempted to prevent him from staging a play to raise money for a new schoolhouse. Deciding to take the issue over the head of municipal authorities, Hunter appealed to the Provincial Treasurer and Division Superintendent.38 Armed with an official letter of approbation, the play went on, attended by most of the town’s officials and elites, though 36 37 38

Beattie, letter to Barrows, May 14, 1904, “Report of the Department of Public Instruction,” file 41885, box 201, RG 350, NARA. Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, 305, vol. 2, Box 6, Marquardt Papers. The Municipal Treasurer of Tuao, who told Hunter that it was illegal to open a theater without a license, was almost certainly Filipino, as were almost all municipal officers. Provincial officers were both American and Filipino, according the official rosters of government employees. The typical arrangement seems to have been a Filipino Governor, an American Treasurer, and a Filipino as the third member of the provincial board, though of course there were American governors and Filipino treasurers as well. During this period, the District Superintendents of Education would have all been American. See Official Register of the Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands, 1902–1913, and Official Register of the Officers and Employees in the Civil Service of the Philippine Islands, 1914–1921, both in Library Materials, RG-350, NARA; also see Official Roster of the Bureau of Education (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1906).

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Hunter noted that many townspeople, fearing trouble, stayed away. Hunter had won an important victory, but the play had not been enough of a success to raise the necessary funds to build the school. By Hunter’s account, the opposition to the school was primarily that he had prevented the principales from personally profiting from its construction. In retaliation, local elites spread rumors that Hunter himself was engaged in graft, and he was subsequently investigated by the district auditor. The result of the investigation cleared Hunter of any guilt, and the matter was effectively dropped. Hunter concluded that the school was now finished, and stood as a “monument of victory over ignorance, insurrection and dishonesty.”39 While Hunter ultimately achieved his objective, the antagonism of wealthy and powerful Filipinos disrupted his work, and made life more difficult. Teachers not only interrupted political dynamics at the local level, they also occasionally acted as mediators in conflicts between municipal authorities and American officials. At times, Filipino officials appealed to a teacher to negotiate with the colonial state on their behalf. In August of 1902 the presidente of Silay asked Philinda Rand to write to the civil administration in Manila about the salaries for the coast guard, as no payments had arrived since April, and he had been forced to advance the funds himself. Rand reported that she “could not refrain from putting a nice little sting in the tail of my letter and now I hope they will hustle the money along.”40 By remonstrating with the government on behalf of her town, Rand was reversing the usual flow of colonial power from the state down to its employees, and positioning herself as an advocate for Filipinos against the neglect of the state. This episode also illustrates the ways in which Filipino elites attempted the use the influence of American teachers as a lever in colonial politics. Non-elite Filipinos also used their children’s attendance at school as a bargaining chip in their interactions with the colonial state. Russell Trace recalled that if a Filipino was facing punishment for a misdemeanor, or if he wanted “to ask some unusual favor,” he would enroll his children in the public school, and use that fact to support his case.41 This tactic

39 40 41

Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, 303–7, vol. 2, Box 6, Marquardt Papers. Rand, letter to Aunt, August 5, 1902, folder 9, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Trace, “Experiences and Educational Progress in the Islands,” vol. 2, Box 6, Marquardt Papers, 374.

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demonstrates that Filipinos understood the American desire for buy-in to the public schools, and attempted to use that fact to their advantage. Teachers also acted as mediators between their communities and the US military. When the intensified fighting on Samar led the military to forbid selling more than one peck of rice at a time, it became extremely difficult for remote, inland towns to get enough rice. Leyte was placed under these restrictions because the military suspected that it was supplying insurgents on Samar. In this context, any Filipino attempting to secure large amounts of rice might be suspected of being a supporter of the insurgents. In order to try to get some rice for the people of his town, who had been subsisting primarily on bananas, William Allison Kepner, a teacher stationed at Burauen, traveled to Tacloban to see what could be done.42 Harry Cole challenged military authorities even more directly during this period, in response to an appeal for his help from elite Filipinos in his station of Palo, on Leyte. When Emigdio Acebedo, the presidente, and Emilio Asensi Biao, a wealthy Chinese mestizo, were arrested in January 1902 and sent to Samar, Harry served as an intermediary between their families and the military, trying to find out information about the men, and advocating for their release. Harry Cole reported that their families were frantic to find out the reason for their arrest, but were afraid to go to Tacloban themselves in case they met the same fate. Over the next several days, Harry traveled to Tacloban himself, attempting to get information from the governor, and bringing a petition from the Palo municipal council.43 He also wrote letters to Dean C. Worcester, the Secretary of the Interior, and Major H. T. Allen, the head of the constabulary, declaring that the people of his town were terrified and appealing for their intercession.44 After some weeks, Padre Nicanor Acebedo, the former padre at Balangiga, on Samar, and the brother of the presidente of Palo, who had also been arrested and severely tortured, was released and came

42

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Harry Cole, letter to Mother, November 18, 1901, folder 3, Cole Papers; and M. Cole, diary entry, November 13, 1901, folder 13, Cole Papers. The Coles do not mention if Kepner was successful in securing any rice. H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, January 7, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers; and M. Cole, diary entry, January 8, 1902, folder 13, Cole Papers. The letter from Harry is incorrectly dated 1901. Mary also went to Tacloban with Biao’s wife to try and see General Smith, though out of a concern that she might be suspected of aiding insurgents, she did not go to Smith’s office herself. H. Cole, letter to Dean C. Worcester and Major H. T. Allen, January 10, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers.

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to Palo. Finally, on January 27, Emigdio Acebedo came home, and two days later Emilio Biao returned as well.45 The peremptory arrest of Acebedo and Biao, and especially the tangible proof of Nicanor’s torture, severely shook both Harry and Mary Cole.46 This episode marked the zenith of Harry’s goodwill toward the people of Palo, which quickly declined into contempt. Despite his labors trying to get information about the prisoners and his willingness to challenge military authority to do so, Harry was upset with the presidente’s manner upon his return. Acebedo “passed right by his house, and did not seem particularly careful to greet the members of his family,” but instead went to the church, “where he stayed 10 min. or more.” When Harry asked if he had been allowed to write home, the presidente replied that he had been but “that he did not care to.” Harry declared that Acebedo’s “seeming indifference” toward his family “somewhat disgusted” him.47 In contrast to Harry’s picture of an uncaring family man, Mary Cole gave a very different account of the presidente’s actions. Noting Acebedo’s return to Palo in her diary, she declared that he had greeted his family with embraces, and was “indeed glad to get home again.”48 Teachers often took a seeming lack of emotion to mean that Filipinos did not feel deeply.49 What teachers glibly attributed to the stoic and unfeeling nature of Filipinos was probably more a result of the effect of colonial violence.

45 46

47 48 49

H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, February 16, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers; and M. Cole Letter to Dear Folks, January 26, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers. The fact that Nicanor Acebedo was the former padre at Balangiga, on Samar, was probably the reason for the arrest of himself and his brother. On September 28, 1901, provoked by harsh military treatment, the men of Balangiga attacked the American soldiers stationed in their town at dawn, killing about half of them before the others managed to escape. The US military responded with extreme measures that affected not only Samar but residents on nearby islands. While both of the Coles were sincerely affected by the arrest of Acebedo and Biao, Mary was particularly upset by Nicanor’s account of his torture, writing to her family that she could “scarcely believe that Americans would be guilty of such barbarism.” In her diary a few days earlier, she noted, “Would n’t such treatment make insurrectos of any body.” M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks, January 26, 1902, folder 5, and M. Cole, diary entry, January 20, 1902, folder 13, Cole Papers. As Kimberly Alidio has argued, Mary’s invitation to her family to “inhabit the category of ‘insurrecto’ was a highly inflammatory gesture that signaled her rejection of systematized intimidation.” Kimberly A. Alidio, “‘When I Get Home, I Want to Forget’: Memory and Amnesia in the Occupied Philippines, 1901–1904,” Social Text, no. 59 (Summer 1999): 112. H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, February 16, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers. M. Cole, diary entry, January 27, 1902, folder 13, Cole Papers. See also, for example, Herbert D. Fisher, Philippine Diary (New York: Vantage Press, 2005), 56–60.

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The ability to disguise emotion may well have been a tool for selfprotection, especially after experiencing the coercive force of American governance. It seems likely that Harry’s “disgust” was caused more by Acebedo’s attitude toward himself than by the presidente’s reunion with his family. Given his recent exertions on Acebedo’s behalf, Harry probably expected more demonstrative gratitude toward himself. When met instead with stoicism and indifference to danger, Harry was enraged. He does not seem to have considered how Acebedo’s recent imprisonment might have affected his desire to freely express himself to Americans. To some extent, white American teachers recognized and were frustrated by the sense that they were not privy to the inner emotions of the Filipinos who lived around them. Especially in their first months in the islands, teachers recorded fearing that they were surrounded by secret enemies. A common refrain in teachers’ letters and diaries was that Filipinos were treacherous – that they would, in the words of Mary Cole, “pat you on the back with one hand and stab you in the back with the other.”50 By June 1902, Harry Cole’s friendly concern for his Filipino neighbors was replaced by frustration, disappointment, and even approbation of the military policies that he had criticized previously.51 Adding to the Harry’s disgust with the elites in Palo was a heightened fear for his and Mary’s own health. On the same day that Harry Cole wrote home about his disgust at the seeming indifference of Acebedo, he related the outbreak of smallpox in his town. The week before, Harry and Mary had been “horrified and quite thoroughly scared” when they saw bearers in the street carrying an open hearse with a dead child covered in smallpox, surrounded by a procession of townspeople. Their fear increased when they saw townspeople, including some of their students, visiting a home across the street from them where another child had just died of the same disease. Upon asking the presidente why “such things were allowed,” he responded that he trusted in Providence, and “if their time to go has come, they will go any way whether by small-pox or by some other means; if their time has not come, small-pox can not hurt them.”52 Fearful for his and Mary’s safety, Harry was furious at both the government that had sent him to the Philippines and the Filipino people 50 51 52

M. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, undated, folder 12, Cole Papers. This letter was probably written in the fall of 1901, shortly after their arrival. H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, June 30, 1902, folder 7, Cole Papers. H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, February 16, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers.

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who refused to cast off their traditions in favor of American teachings about sanitation. Despite his recent willingness to serve as an intermediary and advocate for the Acebedo and Biao families, and his and Mary’s shock at Nicanor’s torture, this episode evaporated almost all of the sympathy he felt. Harry wrote home that the more he saw of “this lazy, dirty, indolent people, the more I come to despise them.” He had come to the islands, he declared, “with the desire to help them, to enter their home, and to try to uplift them.” Yet this now seemed “a useless task,” and Harry was becoming convinced that Americans needed to “rule them with somewhat of severity and yet with strict honesty and uprightness.”53 In his bitterness and fear, Harry Cole failed to recognize that this intention to enter Filipinos’ homes to “try and uplift them” was what many Filipinos vigorously opposed, especially as “uplift” took the shape of callous and overbearing regulations. As Cole’s experience aptly demonstrates, issues of military violence, pedagogical suasion, and sanitation and health were tangled up together. Harry was willing to serve as a mediator in conflicts between Palo elites and the US military. When that intervention did not result in overt gratitude or adherence to American standards of health and sanitation, however, his sympathy and advocacy for his neighbors declined precipitously.

    Just as their position in the community drew teachers into political roles, their socializing and personal relationships were interpreted through a political lens. As teachers were representatives of the colonial state, which homes they chose to visit, which religious services they attended, and even those with whom they chose to dance were seen as expressions of the colonial relationship. Teachers were impressed with the political connotations of socializing from the moment they arrived in the islands. Beyond teaching in the schools, American educators were expected to win Filipino collaboration in education, and the colonial project, through personal suasion and friendly relationships with the elites in their towns. In this context, social events like fiestas (religious festivals or holidays) and bailes (dances) were often imbued with political meaning. Socializing with the townspeople, especially the elites, was considered an obligation, 53

H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, February 16, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers.

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a ritual of social recognition, which Paul Kramer has termed “fiesta politics.”54 Writing of a dance to which she had been invited that evening, Rand declared that she would rather not go, as she was “very tired,” but that “it would never do for two officials to stay away.”55 Herbert Priestley reported that the people in his station were “extravagantly honored” when Americans attended social functions, and treated them “like royalty.”56 This elevated status created an obligation on the part of the teachers to attend virtually every social event in their town. Herbert Priestley noted that he and his wife could “rarely refuse an invitation” as it would offend their hosts. Yet it was much better, he concluded, “to have them as they are than to have them secretly unfriendly.”57 Both teachers and Filipino elites, then, interpreted the presence or absence of American teachers at social events as a political statement. The willingness of Americans to socialize with Filipinos, from attending a party to paying a visit, was considered to be recognition of social equality. As greater political autonomy was predicated upon the ability of Filipinos to prove themselves to be “civilized,” this sort of social recognition was politically significant. For an American to refuse invitations, then, was not just a social snub, it was a declaration of inequality. Harry Cole certainly understood socializing in this way. Despite spending a fair amount of time with the elite families of Palo, by the spring of 1904 Harry reported that he and Mary were “not invited out to the natives’ houses anymore.” As they had declined a few invitations, he concluded, “I guess they understood that we do not care to go.” Harry declared that he believed that they were “more respected this year . . . because we do not mix up with the natives,” and that he certainly did not “take any pains to give them the idea that they are as good as we are.”58 This refusal to “mix up,” in direct contradiction of the policy of the Bureau of Education, was precisely what indicated to the Filipino elites of Palo that the Coles thought themselves to be superior.

54 55 56

57 58

Paul A. Kramer, The Blood of Government: Race, Empire, the United States, and the Philippines (University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 185. Rand, letter to Aunt, February 24, 1902, folder 9, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Herbert Ingram Priestley, letter to Mother, February 6, 1902, folder 7, Herbert Ingram Priestley Letters, 1901–4 [hereafter Priestley Letters], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Priestley, letter to Mother, February 28, 1902, folder 7, Priestley Letters. H. Cole, letter to Mother, April 8, 1904, folder 11, Cole Papers. The Coles left the islands that spring. It is possible that they began to retreat socially knowing that they would be leaving, and that it would not, therefore, affect their professional advancement.

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Whether an American would or would not dance with Filipinos was also taken as behavioral shorthand for his or her position on the colonial government’s policy of attraction, social equality, and even the feasibility of eventual independence.59 The issue of white, American women dancing with Filipino men was especially fraught, given the history in the United States of policing white women’s bodies and physical intimacy between white women and nonwhite men. Edith Moses, the wife of Bernard Moses, the Secretary of Public Instruction, made a point of socializing with elite Filipinos. She saw these interactions as an integral part of the colonial policy of attraction, and contrasted her behavior with military officers and their wives, who remained socially aloof. Moses even created a club for the “purpose of bringing Americans and natives together socially.” No woman was allowed to join who would not dance with a Filipino, and no man who would not agree to pay attention to Filipinas rather than American women.60 Apart from big events, like weddings, feasts, and dances, the level of intercourse between teachers and townspeople varied depending on the size of the American “colony” in their town. Blaine Free Moore declared that as “is always the case where there are quite a number of Americans,” the Filipinos and Americans in Tarlac province did “not mix up much,” but that each formed “a clique by themselves.”61 This was especially true in Manila, where the number of Americans allowed them to form their own “colony.” In contrast, teachers were much more likely to socialize with Filipinos on a daily basis in stations where there were few or no other Americans. Pattie Paxton noted, for example, that, since there were no other Americans in La Carlota, she and the other American teacher “soon became acquainted with the ‘gente’ of the town.”62 Single teachers, especially, tended to mingle with the families in their stations. John D. DeHuff regularly socialized with the young men in his town, despite his somewhat disparaging remarks in his diary about the frequency of their visits.63 In some instances, socializing between an American teacher and the community disrupted established networks of power. Bedford B. Hunter 59 60 61 62 63

For more on the policy of attraction, see Kramer, The Blood of Government, 112–13. Edith Moses, Unofficial Letters of an Official’s Wife (New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1908), 74, 89–90. Moore, Letter to Brother, August 2, 1903, folder 5, box 1, Moore Papers. Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 21. DeHuff, diary entry, October 13, 1901, diary 1, box 5, Willis DeHuff Papers; and DeHuff, diary entry, January 15, 1902, diary 1, box 5, Willis DeHuff Papers.

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made a habit of inviting the young people of Tuao to his home for dances at least two nights a month, a practice that annoyed some of the town’s caciques, political leaders or bosses, but which certainly endeared him to its youth. These parties provided Hunter with an opportunity to challenge the authority of elite townsmen. At one such dance, a local boss told the band to leave, as they had played for long enough. In response, Hunter delivered “an impromptu lecture,” which “broke the power of the Cacique, as far as the band was concerned at least.”64 By hosting parties, on his own terms and without reference to the preferences of municipal authorities, Hunter was publicly demonstrating that their power was not inviolable. Teachers’ decisions about where and with whom to socialize could have other political meanings as well, drawing them into local conflicts. When communities fractured along religious or political lines, or when Filipino authorities clashed with other Americans, teachers were often drawn into the fray, regardless of attempts to stay neutral. One source of conflict was over the presence of Protestant missionaries in towns across the islands. Benjamin E. Neal recorded the struggle between Mr. and Mrs. Lyons, missionaries stationed in Dagupan, Pangasinan, and municipal authorities of nearby towns, noting that officials in Pozorrubio and San Jacinto had threatened to kill Lyons unless he stopped his missionary work. The presidente of Pozorrubio had also arrested some of the members of the Lyons’s church.65 While Neal became friendly with the Lyons, other teachers worried that appearing too close to missionaries would endanger their own work. Mrs. E. E. Weston, a teacher stationed in Calumpit, recalled that she “was almost afraid to say ‘Good morning’ to the missionary lest I endanger my influence.”66 Mary Fee also reported that American teachers in Capiz sacrificed good relations with the missionary in their town in order to preserve the good will of the padre. None of the American teachers went to his church services, partially because some of the Americans were Catholics or Episcopalian while the missionary was a Baptist, but also because the teachers felt that openly supporting missionary work would compromise their position as teachers. In an attempt to round up

64 65 66

Hunter, letter to the Director of Education, July 7, 1913, 305, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Neal, diary entry, February 9, 1904, folder 5, box 1, Neal Papers. Mrs. E. E. Weston, “Early Experiences in the Philippines,” 361, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers.

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Americans, the missionary personally invited all the teachers to a special Thanksgiving morning service. Learning of this, the padre of the town arranged for a Te Deum to be sung half an hour earlier that same day, and had the governor send formal invitations to the teachers, so that they could not refuse without giving offense. The teachers decided to attend the Te Deum, and go to the Thanksgiving service afterwards. The first service lasted much too long for them to do so, however, and the teachers had a good laugh about the craftiness of the priest.67 Religious conflicts not only caused friction in Filipino communities at the local level, but also became imbued with nationalist politics. While the religious and political authorities were too closely bound together to give Protestant missionaries much chance of converting large numbers of elite Filipinos, the Aglipayano movement, a nationalist and anti-Vatican form of Catholicism, had a wider appeal.68 Teacher Louis Lisk, stationed in Misamis, reported that the movement “swept Oroquieta, leaving a comparative few staunch to the Roman Catholic church.” The presidente himself was an adherent, and would intercept people on their way to church on Sundays to try to persuade them to convert. In this atmosphere, it was impossible to be seen as neutral, and Lisk was therefore “under suspicion from both sides.” He recalled, “If I took dinner with the Aglipayano bishop, I was then an enemy to the Romanistas. Probably the next week I’d take dinner with the Roman bishop. Then I was small pumpkins with the Aglipayanos.” He also had trouble protecting the children of Romanista parents from the taunting of the children of Aglipayanos.69 Lisk was drawn into this conflict despite his attempts to maintain good social relations with both sides, as the divide spilled over into the daily life of his community, and into school affairs. His inability to remain neutral illustrates the ways in which religious matters could be enveloped by nationalist politics, and also how decisions about socializing could take on a political hue. Filipinos did not let American civilians unilaterally dictate the terms of their neutrality. At times they demanded that the teachers take a stand on religious and political issues of the day, defining the 67 68

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Mary H. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines (Chicago: A. C. McClurg & Co, 1910), 272–3. The Aglipayano movement, named after Bishop Gregorio Aglipay, was a nationalist religious movement that broke from the Catholic Church, similar to Anglicanism. Alfred W. McCoy, Policing America’s Empire: The United States, the Philippines, and the Rise of the Surveillance State (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009), 106–7. Louis H. Lisk, letter to the Director of Education, September 27, 1913, 331, vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers.

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grounds on which the colonial relationship was based. Teachers like Lisk could attempt to remain above the fray, socializing with both sides, but the townspeople insisted on infusing these visits with political meaning. Of course, as time went on, the overall number of American teachers declined, and those that remained were concentrated more in provincial centers, there were fewer social interactions between teachers and Filipino neighbors. In Manila especially, there appears to have been a social separation of Americans and Filipinos. In 1909, W. Cameron Forbes, the new Governor-General, wrote to President William H. Taft that in the capital, the hostility and viciousness of the American and Filipino newspapers had led to a “distinct separation of the races and drawing apart” of the two communities, which had not happened in the provinces.70 This is likely at least partially due to the political context of the period, including the fallout from the elections for the first Philippine Assembly in July 1907, in which members of the Partido Nacionalista, which called for immediate independence, were elected by a landslide. After reports that some Filipinos had celebrated by marching through town, flying the Katipunan flag and tearing down American flags, 3,000 Americans gathered in the Grand Opera House in a counter-demonstration. Shortly afterwards, the Philippine Commission passed the “Flag Law,” which banned the display of the Katipunan flag.71 Another factor in shifting social relations between Americans and Filipinos was the changing context once the system of education was established and accepted by Filipinos. In the early years of the colonial state, the American teachers were expected to win their communities over, to persuade them to support the schools and, by extension, the entire imperial project. Once this had been accomplished, there was less pressure to socialize as a tool to garner buy-in to Americanization. While the Coles in the early 1900s were something of an aberration for refusing to socialize, by the 1920s there seems to have been a backlash among Americans to the policy of attraction. Many Americans vocally supported Governor-General Leonard Wood as an antidote to the shift toward political recognition that Filipinization and the Jones Law represented. Laura Gibson Smith, who taught with her husband in Iloilo from 1923 to 1925, wrote in her journal of her contempt for the Filipinos around her, 70 71

W. Cameron Forbes, letter to William Howard Taft, May 12, 1909, folder 19861, box 835, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Lewis E. Gleeck, Jr., The Manila Americans (Manila: Carmel & Bauermann, Inc., 1977), 57–8.

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her preference for socializing exclusively with Americans, her admiration of Wood, and her contempt for the independence movement.72 Yet she was careful to say nothing publicly regarding independence, as there was “no protection for Americans.”73 While not all American teachers felt this way, certainly, these sentiments reveal a growing rift between many of the American teachers and the Filipinos among whom they lived and worked, but also a recognition that there were repercussions to being openly anti-independence.

   While many interactions between teachers and Filipinos revolved around intricate power struggles, and sometimes outright coercion, some of the Thomasites also recorded friendships with Filipinos based on mutual respect. Despite these relationships, most American teachers displayed a deep ambivalence toward Filipinos. In addition, even teachers who professed regard or love for individuals often continued to make sweeping generalizations about the Filipino people as a whole. Predicated on unequal power, intimate relations between Americans and Filipinos were still influenced by the context of colonialism. Several teachers struck up friendships with the Filipino teachers with whom they worked. Pattie Paxton recalled that her maestra was conventeducated and possessed a “cultivated manner.” It was this same teacher that gave her the camisa that she had embroidered with the flag of the Katipunan, as a mark of esteem and confidence.74 Philinda Rand also reported a friendship with a Filipina living in a neighboring town. She declared that Sofia Reyes was the only Filipina she had met with “anything like American ability,” having learned enough English in a matter of months to be appointed a teacher. Their friendship continued to develop, with both Rand and Purcell visiting Reyes and her relatives multiple times, and having their portrait made together.75 72 73 74 75

Laura Gibson Smith, journals, folders 2–6, box 1, Laura Gibson Smith Papers [hereafter Gibson Smith Papers], Iowa Women’s Archives, University of Iowa. Smith, “Point of View,” folder 1, box 2, Gibson Smith Papers. Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 19. Rand, letter to Aunt, January 4, 1903, folder 10, Rand Anglemyer Papers; Rand, letter to Aunt, April 12, 1903, folder 10, Rand Anglemyer Papers; and Rand, letter to Katie, May 25, 1904, folder 11, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Sofia Reyes would go on to work for the Bureau of Education, and later became a noted feminist and public figure. She married Jaime de Veyra, who became a resident commissioner in Washington, DC.

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 .. Margaret Purcell, Philinda Rand, and Sofia Reyes (Philinda Parsons Rand Anglemyer Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University)

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Louis and Winnie Baun also formed a close relationship with Gregorio and Maria Romulo while stationed in Camiling.76 The two families spent a good deal of time together socially, sharing meals and walks around town. Gregorio Romulo and Louis Baun also had a close professional relationship; Romulo served as “interpreter to everybody here,” Louis noted, and was in constant demand in this capacity.77 When the Bauns were transferred from Camiling in April of 1902, Louis reported that everyone “from the presidente down” wanted them to stay, as they were “pleased with our work, as well as being our friends, so dislike to see us go for those reasons.”78 While friendships often served to create closer relations between teachers and the elites of their communities, the ultimate marker of intimacy between American teachers and Filipinos was marriage. Despite the fact that almost no published memoirs discussed intermarriage, several Americans, including teachers, married Filipinos. While these unions were almost exclusively between Filipinas and American men, there is some evidence that a few American women married Filipino men. While intermarriage demonstrates that some American teachers deviated significantly from the tenets of the supremacy of whiteness and Americanness, it did not predetermine an American’s attitude toward, or assessment of, Filipinos as a whole. There could be considerable benefits for an American marrying a Filipina from a prominent family. Blaine Free Moore declared that Governor Betts of Albay married a native woman to solidify his political support.79 While teachers did not need a political base, marrying into an elite family was a path to instant wealth and status, and teachers do seem to have chosen partners for the most part from the top tier of local society. By marrying Paz Montilla of Iguig, Bedford B. Hunter allied himself to a wealthy and well-connected family, and became “one of the big men” of Cagayan province.80 Walter W. Marquardt reported that the Gobenciong family, which Francis Hemenway married into, “belonged to the swell society” of Tanauan.81 While wealth and status was probably

76 77

78 79 80 81

Gregorio and Maria Romulo were the parents of Carlos Romulo, the future World War II hero and politician. Louis D. Baun, letter to Father, February 3, 1902, Serving America’s First Peace Corps: Letters of Louis D. Baun, Written en route to and from the Philippines, September 12, 1901–March 30, 1903, ed. A. Ruth Sayer (Wakefield, RI: A. Ruth Sayer, 1971), 19–21. Baun, letter to Father, April 11, 1902, Serving America’s First Peace Corps, 36. Moore, letter to Pa and Ma, May 5, 1904, folder 6, box 1, Moore Papers. “A Kansan Weds in the Philippines,” Topeka Plaindealer, July 5, 1907, 1. Marquardt, letter, July 31, 1901, 17, vol. 2, box 7, Marquardt Papers.

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a consideration, especially for teachers without much of either back home, many of these marriages also seem to have been based on real affection. Benjamin Neal reported that Roy Blackman, who married the daughter of the presidente of Dagupan, thought himself “the happiest man in the Islands.”82 Even some of those teachers who sneered at interracial marriages when they first came to the Philippines changed their tune after getting to know beautiful and interesting women.83 Even the most loving of friendships or marriages did not necessarily mean that teachers had a high opinion of Filipinos in general, or were in favor of independence. It was not uncommon for American teachers to befriend or love individual Filipinos while still making sweeping derogatory generalizations about Filipino people. Bedford B. Hunter could, therefore, praise the achievements of his pupils and the advancement of Filipinos in general, and even marry a Filipina, and at the same time deny that Filipinos were prepared for the responsibilities of self-government.84 To allow that Filipinos were advanced and civilized enough to govern themselves would have been tantamount to an admission that he and the other teachers were no longer necessary. Harry and Mary Cole were particularly prone to comparing Filipinos to African Americans in virulently racist language, while simultaneously registering enjoyment in the company of specific neighbors and gratitude for acts of specific kindness. In April 1902, the Coles wrote enthusiastically about a day at the seashore with two of their Filipino teachers, including Carlos Acebedo, the presidente’s brother, three students, Carlos’s father and mother, and Nicanor Acebedo, the padre and brother to Carlos and the presidente.85 Mary reported that they ate lunch with their fingers, which was “great fun.” Just a few pages later, though, she declared, “I haven’t much use for a Filipino. Gov. Taft may make all the glowing reports he wishes about the Filipinos & the P.I. but as far as 82 83

84 85

Neal, diary entry, October 11, 1902, folder 5, Neal Papers; Neal, diary entry, October 24, 1902, folder 5, Neal Papers. Both Herbert Fisher and Reece Oliver, who had declared themselves opposed to intermarriage, fell in love with Filipinas. Oliver married Flora Carbonell, a supervising teacher in Mindanao. Fisher would have married his love, but she ended the romance. Fisher, Philippine Diary, 80, 292–5, 319; Reece Oliver, letter to Mother, March 16, 1919, folder 1, Oliver Family Papers, Indiana State library, Indianapolis; and Ann Allen, “Reece Oliver: Indiana’s Shadow Hero,” Traces of Indiana and Midwestern History 20, no. 3 (2008): 41–2. Hunter, “A Voice from the Philippines,” National Review, September 18, 1913, 1. H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, April 11, 1902, folder 6, Cole Papers; and M. Cole, Letter to Dear Folks at Home, April 16, 1902, folder 6, Cole Papers.

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 .. Susan Gladwin, Mary Cole, and a Filipina Woman (Harry and Mary Cole Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan)

knowing the people he is an ignoramus.”86 Mary was also fond of her Filipino teacher, Delfina Noble, calling her a “gentile [sic], sensitive little lady.” In the same letter, reporting that her bath clothes and rubbers had been stolen, she concluded, “They are all a regular set of thieves.”87 Harry declared that while it was enjoyable to visit with the presidente’s family as well as “the rich chino’s,” he and Mary did not “do a great amount of visiting with any of the natives” when “Americans are in town,” though he conceded that the “best of the natives will do when there are no white people to associate with.” He continued, “As a people I consider the American negro as more trustworthy than these Filipinos and you know how much this is saying.”88 Mary reiterated this opinion, writing that “they are all deceitful and treacherous and I would n’t trust any of them, to any great extent.”89 Yet one month after writing that 86 87 88 89

M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks at Home, April 16, 1902, folder 6, Cole Papers. M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks at Home, June 1, 1902, folder 7, Cole Papers. H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, May 24, 1902, folder 6, Cole Papers. M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks at Home, August 17, 1902, folder 8, Cole Papers.

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letter, Mary Cole discovered that she had head lice and went to Mrs. Biao for help, who combed her head thoroughly to get rid of the bugs, working for two to three hours a day, for two days in a row. Once deloused, Mary noted appreciatively that Mrs. Biao was “awfully nice and clean and always so good to me.”90 It is difficult to reconcile expressions of regard for and reliance on individual Filipinos with blanket statements about Filipinos being deceptive, untrustworthy, and incapable of self-government. It is tempting to give greater weight to the sentiments of mistrust and prejudice, and to conclude that Americans like the Coles did not feel genuine friendship for the Filipinos in Palo, at least beyond a sort of selfish gratitude for the pleasures they made possible and the gifts they bestowed. It is certainly true that whatever affection the Coles may have felt for specific individuals was not enough to overcome their prejudice toward Filipinos in general. Exemplifying this sort of contradiction are two passages from Ralph Kent Buckland’s memoir, In the Land of the Filipino. Buckland declared that Filipinos had been “greatly overestimated” because of their brazenness, self-confidence, and ability to pretend to know more than they did.91 Buckland makes this sweeping generalization about Filipino character and then, just a few pages later, when writing about doctoring two Filipinos, one of whom was grateful while the other was not, declares: “This goes to show that, when it comes to fine points of character, what is said of one Filipino may not apply in the slightest degree to others. Filipinos are often spoken of as a people absolutely without gratitude; but I am of the opinion that one who understands them well will find just as much of the grateful spirit in their make-up as in the make-up of any other race. . . It is a question of the individual rather than of race.”92 American teachers, indeed all Americans, displayed a tendency to attribute a wide range of negative traits to a monolithic Filipino character, including untrustworthiness, laziness, dirtiness, stupidity, and dishonesty. Yet almost all of these teachers found Filipinos that they could esteem and like. Their feelings toward individual members of their community, however, do not seem to have mediated their propensity to malign Filipinos as a race. Indeed, their negative interactions with Filipinos, when servants failed to follow orders, or students or teachers fell short of academic 90 91 92

M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks at Home, September 16, 1902, folder 9, Cole Papers. Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino, 215–16. Buckland, In the Land of the Filipino, 236.

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expectations, were much more likely to be applied as representative of Filipinos as a whole than were positive interactions, which were often treated as exceptions or aberrations, rather than indications that Filipinos were as capable of virtue and genius as other peoples.

    Unquestionably, the closest, most intimate relations that most American teachers developed with Filipinos were with the servants living in their homes. Teachers tended to write about their servants frequently, and maligned them openly and often, yet they also depended on them for their household comforts and order. Teachers and servants were able to witness the others’ most personal moments, having access to each other beyond the social performances engaged in outside the home. As domestic workers were the group most intimately connected with American teachers, their position in their households provided a stage for acting out the relations of mastery, paternalism and tutelage that were simultaneously unfolding on a national level. Just as schools served as a microcosm of the politics of a tutelary empire, teachers intended their successful control and Americanization of their servants to demonstrate their own fitness for the work of empire. The intimacy of the servant–master relationship was greater by far than that of typical teachers and students. To be sure, teachers paid attention to their students’ bodies, dress, comportment, and home lives, but they did not have limitless access to, and surveillance of, their pupils. Because almost all domestic workers lived in the homes of their employers, teachers had near-constant access to them. They controlled (or attempted to control) when and how their servants worked, what they ate, how they behaved, and when and where they traveled. It is not surprising, then, that as Americans and as masters, teachers spent a fair amount of time describing their struggles with and victories over their servants, and viewed this oversight as a sort of duty. Even those teachers who did not bother to describe the other Filipinos who lived in their communities wrote regularly about their servants. For most of the American teachers in the Philippines, having servants was a novel experience. For a small salary and the provision of a diet that consisted primarily of rice, teachers had domestic laborers who hauled firewood and water, cleaned, cooked, did the marketing, and performed whatever other household work was required, including childcare for teachers with children. William W. Marquardt noted that one reason

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“the Orient has such an allure for the Occidental is the ease with which good servants can be obtained. In the Philippines a house servant is called a ‘muchacho,’ or more commonly by the English equivalent ‘boy.’ It is always ‘Boy, do this,’ or ‘Boy, do that’; ‘Boy, come here,’ or ‘Boy, go there.’”93 The term “muchacho” or “muchacha” served as a description of status, rather than an indication of age, in the Philippines. Therefore, domestic servants who were well into middle age still carried the label.94 The cultural association that muchacho carried could result in misunderstandings between teachers and their students. Marquardt declared, in fact, that more “than one American teacher has created a little estrangement with his pupils by following the American school custom and referring to his male pupils as ‘boys.’ For the pupils this term connotes ‘servants,’ whereas to the American teacher the term more often signifies affection than inferiority.”95 Despite Marquardt’s assertion that students did not want to be called “muchachos,” because of the connotations of servitude the term carried, the line between pupils and servants was sometimes blurred. Some students in public schools also worked as servants in the homes of American teachers. When Marquardt was transferred to the high school in Palo in November 1903, he and his wife, Alice, brought one of his pupils with them to their new station. The boy had passed the exam to enter the school, but was too poor to go, so the Marquardts brought him as a servant.96 The Priestleys also had at least two students living with them, who helped with the housework in exchange for room and board.97 Indeed, in towns where municipal

93 94

95

96 97

Marquardt, “Servants,” vol. 8, p. 15, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Marquardt, “Boy,” vol. 8, p. 15, box 6, Marquardt Papers. It was more common for boys and men to work as domestic servants than girls or women. Some female teachers, including Mary Fee and Philinda Rand, did employ female servants, but other teachers reported that it was difficult to find women willing to cook and clean for them. While some single women shared their homes with male servants, it was less common for single male teachers to have a live-in female servant. I have only found one instance where this was the case, and the young woman was referred to as the querida, or mistress, of the master. See Fisher, 85. Marquardt, “Boy,” vol. 8, p. 15, box 6, Marquardt Papers. It appears that at least some black teachers also used this language to refer to their houseboys, despite the term “boy” also having racial connotations in the US South. In a letter home, Fred D. Bonner noted that he had “a boy (‘mucha cho’)” [sic], who was one of his best pupils. “Teaching Filipinos,” Jeffersonian Gazette, September 23, 1903, 3. I was unable to find any of Butler’s writings in which he used the term, however. Marquardt, diary entry, November 28, 1903, vol. 2, p. 98, box 7, Marquardt Papers. Priestley, letter to Mother, January 25, 1902, folder 6, Priestley Letters; and Priestley, letter to Mother, January 18, 1903, folder 18, Priestley Letters.

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authorities compelled parents to send their children to school, any muchacho of school age was likely to be a pupil in the teacher’s school as well. While most servants came from the lower classes, this was not universally the case. Harry and Mary Cole employed a muchacho named Orsiño, who appears to have been a member of the large and influential Acebedo family.98 Both upper- and lower-class Filipino families regarded working for an American teacher as an educational opportunity, a chance to learn English and American habits.99 For those boys from poor families, though, working for a teacher, even without pay, could be a passport to a life that had been previously inaccessible. William B. Freer recorded taking in seven boys on these terms, and that other teachers did the same, as it was “no small satisfaction to be means of aiding poor, ambitious and appreciative boys a step upward,” and their board was not expensive.100 While Filipinos sometimes sought the benefits of language acquisition from their American employers, teachers used their muchachos and muchachas as opportunities to exert and practice imperial mastery. Mary Helen Fee described her efforts to teach her servants to clean in American fashion by utilizing metaphors of warfare. After a battle over the use of scrubbing brushes and mops, with “the Americans scoring victory in the dish washing and floor campaigns,” Fee declared “war on the arrangement of furniture.”101 Other teachers also noted with pleasure their servants’ adaptation to American ways. Harry Cole declared that Mary had taught their muchacho to “cook pretty well,” so that they ate “very good meals.”102 The struggles that teachers recorded, however, indicate that servants did not accept their authority as absolute. Mary Fee reported that her domestic workers had their own ideas about how a household ought to be run. When Fee came upon her servant, Tomas, poking garbage through the slats in the kitchen floor, something he had been expressly forbidden to do, she seized a broomstick and “swatted” him so hard that he fell over. After she did this, Fee wrote, “Ciriaco, the cook, lay down on the floor and laughed. Later I heard him and Ceferiana 98

99 101 102

Photograph, February 19, 1903, folder 21, Cole Papers. In a photograph of Mary, another American woman, and two Filipino boys, both of whom are labeled “muchachos,” one of the boys is identified as “Orsiño Acebedo.” I have not been able to ascertain exactly to which branch of the Acebedo clan Orsiño was related. He does not appear to have been immediately related to Emigdio, the presidente, Nicanor, the padre, or Carlos, the teacher. It is likely, therefore, that he was the child of a cousin. 100 Freer, Philippine Experiences, 48. Freer, Philippine Experiences, 279–80. Fee, “Housekeeping in the Philippines,” The Advance, March 12, 1903, 344. H. Cole, letter to Mother, February 3, 1903, folder 10, Cole Papers.

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agreeing that I was ‘muy valiente.’”103 Teachers often resorted to physical coercion or violence when servants misbehaved or failed to perform as expected. While Fee recorded feelings of guilt about hitting Tomas, there is also an element of pride in her recounting of the incident, as a demonstration of her control over her household. Philinda Rand also took pride in her ability to manage her servants in recounting an “adventure” with them. Intervening in a fight between Candida and Francisco, Rand was forced to hold Candida by the wrists as she struggled, “a picture of animal rage.” Candida at last became calm, whereupon Rand “ordered her out most grandly and told Francisco if I heard anything more from them they would both sleep in the ‘Calaboose.’” After a little while, she had a long remonstrance with both servants, writing to her cousin that she had “never realized before that I could do it so well and I never realized also how true it is that they are, as Kipling says, ‘half devil and half child.’”104 Despite her first success at managing her servants, Rand foresaw trouble with young Francisco. She confided, “He is very bright and much too advanced in knowledge for his years. I hate to tell him to do anything as sometimes he will and sometimes he won’t. When he sets out to make us laugh we simply have to and it is very bad for discipline.”105 Sure enough, Rand reported the next month that Francisco had gotten “so he would not pay attention to what we said,” and Rand forced him to “kneel on the floor for two hours.” As a result, Francisco was now “meekness itself.” Rand noted that she did not want to “whip him as that it too undignified for a woman,” but that “physical punishment is all they can understand.”106 By depicting her ability to control her servants and moderate their behavior through a combination of moral suasion, will, and violence, Rand affirmed her mastery over her own home and her fitness to be an agent of civilization. Teachers most often configured these conflicts as resulting from their servants’ laziness, thereby naturalizing their violence as a corrective to this vice. Herbert Ingram Priestley declared that while his servants “did very well what little work we have,” he and his wife, Bess, had to “tell them every time to do anything. They can’t learn that there is a regular routine to go through.”107 The provocation was sometimes so serious, Priestley

103 104 105 106 107

Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 228. Rand, letter to Katie, September, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Rand, letter to Minnie, December 12, 1901, folder 8, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Rand, letter to Aunt, January, 1902, folder 9, Rand Anglemyer Papers. Priestley, letter to Mother, February 6, 1902, folder 7, Priestley Letters.

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claimed, that even “the gentle Mrs. Priestley” would slap the “sinfully perverse cook.”108 Priestley himself would kick or cane the servants’ backsides, in punishment for frequenting the billiard halls and neglecting household duties.109 The teachers asserted that these punishments were necessary to maintain order and the respect of their servants. Mary Cole wrote that Filipino servants “have more respect for anyone who orders them around like a set of dogs.” It was “awful to have to treat them so,” she declared, “but they won’t do a thing unless you are severe with them.”110 The violence inherent in the day-to-day interactions of civilian colonization is nowhere more apparent than in teachers’ violence toward their servants. Teachers were not supposed to strike their pupils, and could get into trouble if they did. Teachers’ ability to coerce municipal elites was likewise limited. Yet in the privacy of their homes they could strike their servants with impunity, imposing their will with violent force if verbal commands or remonstration failed. This justification of harsh measures and physical violence was also often used by the teachers to defend military policies. They argued that Filipinos as a people only responded to brute force, and had to be cowed into obedience. The teachers understood their violence, therefore, as a sort of microcosm of the imperial mastery that was being enforced across the islands. The teachers’ focus on the disciplining of their servants in their letters and diaries illuminates some of the strategies that domestic workers utilized to avoid, circumvent, and temporarily escape the power of their employers. Servants shirked work, left the house without permission, persistently performed tasks the way they wanted to rather than the way they had been instructed to, sometimes stole food, money, or small personal items, and, as a last resort, quit. Mary Cole complained that her servants would clean things “half-decent for two or three times after each showing but then they were just as bad as ever afterwards.” She had been confident when she and Harry first came to the Philippines that they would be able to teach them to do things their way, but was now convinced that the “habits of 500 yrs cannot be over come in a day and especially when they don’t care to over come them.”111 108 109 110 111

Priestley, letter to Mother, July 5, 1903, folder 24, Priestley Letters. Priestley, letter to Mother, January 18, 1903, folder 18, Priestley Letters. M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks, April 10, 1902, folder 6, Cole Papers. M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks, February 17, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers. These strategies, of course, were not unique to the Philippines. Indentured servants and enslaved peoples in the US resorted to similar strategies to fight back against the unequal power dynamic inherent to unfree labor.

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Servants also responded to their employer’s attempts at discipline in more direct ways. After Mary Fee knocked Tomas over with a broom, he gave her a wide berth when passing her in the house, and she noted that she found it “impossible to restore his confidence.” Only a few days after the incident, Fee realized that the coffee she and other teachers were drinking had diluted carbolic acid (then being used as a disinfectant during a cholera outbreak) in it. When she questioned Ciriaco and Ceferiana, they could not explain how it had happened, though Fee thought they were “not much concerned,” and “seemed to regard it as a pleasing sleight-of-hand performance on their part.”112 It is impossible to know what really happened in this instance, though it is certainly possible that the coffee had been spiked purposefully by one of the servants as revenge for Tomas’s punishment. Two weeks later, Tomas, without permission, visited a barrio where cholera was raging. Fee fired him for this offense, but before he left, he stole a lamp. Fee declared that she did not have the energy to pursue him as she still had a “guilty conscience” about hitting him.113 Stealing was also a fairly common form of servile rebellion. Herbert Priestley reported soon after arriving in the islands that his knife was missing, along with twelve dollars. Mr. Hilts, the division superintendent who shared a home with the Priestleys, also found that his gold watch was missing. The captain of the Constabulary interrogated Hilts’s muchacho and the muchacha of a Filipino family who had been in the home, and the girl confessed to stealing the money and the watch.114 The theft of items of great value or large amounts of money seems to have been unusual. Servants were much more likely to take food, change, or other small items. Harry Cole recorded that he and Mary threw away leftovers rather than let their servants eat them, to prevent them from cooking extra food for themselves. The Coles also measured out their muchachos’ weekly allowance of rice, and kept the rest locked away. Harry declared that this was what servants expected, and that if trusted, “every advantage will be taken.” They had given their servants as much rice as they wanted at first, Harry noted, but when they went over to the presidente’s home for dinner one evening, they noticed that they were being served the kind of white rice they used. After complimenting the quality of rice, Mrs. Acebedo said, “Yes, it’s the same as you use,” and then, correcting herself, said “No, not the same but similar.” This had 112 113 114

Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 230. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 231. Priestley, letter to Mother, September 25, 1901, folder 2, Priestley Letters.

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happened, Harry concluded, “before we measured the rice,” and that it must have come from their stores, “as such rice as we Americans use can not be bought here.”115 In their final months in Palo, moreover, the Coles twice caught their cook stealing canned goods from them.116 Part of the teachers’ anger at petty theft seemed to derive from differing understandings of the domestic service relationship. Mary Cole noted that the people in Palo were convinced that they were rich, despite what she said to the contrary.117 Yet the Coles were rich in a sense; they were perhaps not as wealthy as the Biao family, but they could afford to live very well by the standards of the town. It is not surprising that domestic workers might assume that taking small items or some food would go unnoticed. Indeed, some servants may have even believed that the use of a teacher’s possessions or the appropriation of food or small items was a perk of the job. Pattie Paxton related the story of a muchacho who presented his mistress with a photograph of himself wearing a tuxedo. When asked where he had gotten the tuxedo, he explained that he had taken it from her husband’s trunk and had it cut down to fit him. As the husband never wore the tuxedo, he had assumed that he “could not need and would not miss” the suit.118 That the servant had openly acknowledged this theft to his employers suggests that he believed his actions were appropriate and justified. Beyond attempting to control and direct the labor of those working inside their homes, teachers also occasionally intervened in the personal lives of their servants. After Fee and another female teacher moved into their new home in Capiz, Fee’s servant, Romoldo, convinced her that it was inappropriate for her to be living alone without a female attendant, and found a female servant, named Tikkia, to work for her. As Romoldo was a “young and rather attractive man” and Tikkia was “such a female pirate,” Fee insisted that she was entirely ignorant of the amorous nature of their relationship. A few days later, Fee discovered that Tikkia was the matrimonia, or common law wife, of a man named Pedro. Fee “promised justice to the sniffling Pedro,” and confronted her servants. Tikkia, however, refused to return to Pedro.119 After a falling out with Romoldo, Tikkia returned to Pedro, and Fee reported that Romoldo

115 116 117 118 119

H. Cole, letter to Mother and Leon, May 13, 1902, folder 6, Cole Papers. The letter is marked 1901, but was written in 1902. M. Cole, letter to Mother, undated [probably May], 1904, folder 11, Cole Papers. M. Cole, letter to Dear Folks at Home, February 17, 1902, folder 5, Cole Papers. Paxton Hewitt, “Memoir,” 27. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 113–17.

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had found another partner.120 Such, Fee wrote, “are the broadening effects of travel and two short months in the Orient. Conceive of the old maid school teacher in America assuming the position of judge in a matrimonial – or extra-matrimonial – scandal of this sort.”121 But Fee did choose to get involved. She seemed to have considered it her responsibility and right, as the master of the household, to be involved in the personal lives of her servants, and to serve as the arbiter of their love triangle. While teachers often criticized the system of “caciqueism,” a reciprocal system of obligations that tied poor families to wealthy patrons, they found themselves being drawn into these relationships through the expectations of those around them. For example, teachers were at times called upon to make small loans, or to participate in the wedding of a local couple. John D. DeHuff noted in his diary that he was asked to be a padrino, or godfather, at the wedding of one of his teachers.122 W. W. Marquardt recorded being asked for money by both his washerwoman and one of his native teachers.123 Teachers often acceded to these requests, though it is clear they also expected them to come with certain rights. Mary Fee reported giving her laundrywoman five pesos to pay for her husband’s funeral. That afternoon, she came across the funeral procession and, being curious, decided to follow it to the church. Fee described the service and burial, and also the son of the dead man, who was “naked to the waist” and “glistening brown after a bath,” not wanting to soil his white muslin shirt before arriving at church.124 While Fee’s laundrywoman was able to successfully appeal for some funds for the burial by virtue of their relationship, Fee then considered herself entitled to follow and observe the funeral for which she had paid.

 The teachers’ mission was, in many ways, contradictory. They were to uplift the Filipinos in their stations, changing traditions, customs, minds, and bodies, while remaining aloof from disputes over religion, politics, or anything that might arouse the ire of the townspeople. Yet teachers were 120 121 122 123

124

Fee, “Housekeeping in the Philippines,” The Advance, March 12, 1903. Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 116. DeHuff, diary entry, July 22, 1902, diary 1, box 5, Willis DeHuff Papers. Marquardt, diary entry, September 21, 1901, vol. 6, box 6, Marquardt Papers. For more circumstances of such patronage requests, see Fee, A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, 255, and Fee, “Burying a Filipino,” Belleville News-Democrat, April 30, 1909, 7. Fee, “Burying a Filipino,” 7.

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necessarily drawn into local conflicts by virtue of their position in Philippine society, and by the relationships that they formed with those in their community. The educational project was itself political, as were even the most personal interactions between Americans and Filipinos. In the context of American colonization, the political was personal, and the personal was political. In the end, colonial relations were fraught with ambivalence. The intimate interactions between Americans and Filipinos were often marked by closeness without true understanding, suasion backed by violence, and affection bound by the limitations of white supremacy. Some teachers did develop relationships based on love and respect with Filipinos, but for the most part familiarity without understanding bred contempt. Even teachers who felt genuine affection and regard for individual Filipinos were generally dismissive of the capacity of the Filipino people for self-government. As noted in Chapter 3, Harry Cole claimed to “know” the Filipino better than officials in Manila, decrying the failure of the civilian government to pacify the islands.125 Many teachers made similar claims, arguing that this intimate familiarity endowed them with the authority to judge colonial policies better than bureaucrats in Manila. Intimacy in this context could be especially damaging for Philippine nationalism, as teachers used their claims of special knowledge of the Filipino character to argue against Filipinization and greater political autonomy for the Philippines. At the same time, teachers’ failures to perform their expected social roles could carry political repercussions. Teachers were supposed to win Filipinos’ hearts and minds in order to secure collaboration with the public schools and the colonial state at large. Failing to do so because of the exhibition of prejudiced behavior could disrupt and threaten the colonial relationship. When teachers attempted to extend the mastery they wielded in their own homes to the schoolhouse, or openly aired bigoted beliefs about the Filipino people, their students proved willing to directly confront them, challenging their perspective on the colonial relationship and the purpose of American education.

125

H. Cole, letter to Mother, April 30, 1903, folder 10, Cole Papers.

7 Speaking for Ourselves Dignity and the Politics of Student Protest

On March 12, 1930, the body of Fermin Tobera, a migrant laborer murdered by a white mob during the Watsonville Riot, arrived in Manila, and was met at the pier by thousands of Filipinos, including students and members of labor unions.1 The occasion marked the culmination of a tumultuous month and a half. Manila had been roiled by the anti-Filipino violence unleashed along the West Coast of the United States, by labor uprisings, and by a student strike that had shut down the city’s high schools for the rest of the school year. Speaking at a rally on the pier, Representative Francisco Varona declared that the student strike was connected to the “abuses and insults” endured by Filipinos in California. The Watsonville Riot had so “charged the atmosphere in Manila with protest,” he concluded, that “the insulting remarks” of an American teacher had been all that was needed to provoke a broader movement.2 This moment, the meeting of the body of Fermin Tobera and the strikers who had shut down the city high schools, encapsulates the way in which student protest and nationalist politics had become thoroughly imbricated by the early 1930s. Beginning with demands for bodily integrity and respect for the individual, student protestors’ understanding of dignity gradually evolved. By the dawn of the commonwealth, students conflated personal and national concerns, viewing strikes as defending Filipino racial dignity and aptitude for independence. Relations between Filipino students and American teachers, then, became seen as a metaphor

1 2

“Tobera’s Body Received Here,” Manila Times, March 12, 1930, 1. “Thousands Greet Tobera’s Remains,” Philippines Herald, March 13, 1930, 1.

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for the colonial relationship, just as the schools were a microcosm of the colonial state. Filipino students’ reactions to the American educational system were always ambivalent. Many students expressed gratitude for the education they received, and testified to loving and respectful relationships with their American teachers. Still, they did not accept all the assertions of their instructors, and were willing to challenge the bigoted attitudes of some of their teachers. From the beginning of the colonial state, they pushed back against American authority, articulating their own visions of the colonial relationship and the future of the Philippine nation. Filipino students utilized the language of benevolent colonization to challenge the colonial state and to advocate for recognition of Filipino capacity and for national self-government. Moments of discord and social breakdown reveal most starkly the varied understandings of the colonial relationship and different actors’ attempts to control and redefine the terms of both public education and the colonial state. Strikes were a feature of student protest from the early years of American education in the Philippines. Most of the recorded strikes happened on Luzon, and primarily in the provinces surrounding Manila. The protests were mostly confined to high schools, though there were cases of intermediate schools going on strike. This does not mean that protests did not happen in other areas and other schools – they almost certainly did.3 It is probable, however, that student activism was more frequent and received more publicity closer to Manila, where the greatest numbers of schools, American teachers, and newspapers were concentrated, and that teenagers and young adults were more likely than younger students to engage in protest because of a higher level of political awareness and a more-developed sense of personal autonomy. After the first decade of colonial instruction, moreover, Filipino students encountered American teachers more often in high schools, trade schools, and universities than anywhere else. Strikes did not originate from students’ desire to absent themselves from colonial schools. Rather, these protests were an attempt to force teachers, administrators, and officials to negotiate the terms of colonial education. Students used their knowledge of Americans’ desire for Filipino collaboration in the colonial project to demand changes in the 3

There are undoubtedly more strikes that occurred than I have found documentation for. A full accounting of student activism in the Philippines merits further, and exhaustive, research.

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way that teachers behaved and treated their students. Their protests reveal a contractual understanding of the colonial relationship; probably influenced by labor activism and strikes, students understood absenting themselves from school as a way to influence education in a deeply unequal colonial power dynamic. In the first decade of the colonial state, these demonstrations tended to be responses to local conditions, specific instances of insult or bigotry on the part of American teachers. By the late 1910s, after the passage of the Jones Act, the movement for national sovereignty had begun to influence student protest, as students began to link pronouncements on individual Filipinos with judgments on national capacity. In the years before the establishment of the Philippine Commonwealth, student challenges to instances of prejudice on the part of American teachers became imbued with the context of a vigorous independence movement and racial violence against Filipinos on the West Coast of the United States. Student protests during this period continued to be sparked by incidents of individual bigotry, but quickly took on national – and nationalist – concerns. Educational officials reacted strongly against these protests, attempting to circumscribe acceptable realms of “dignified” student activism, defined as demonstrating respect for school authorities and regulations by refraining from striking. The Bureau of Education endeavored to quell student strikes by suspending or expelling the participants and refusing to allow strikers to testify during official investigations. In addition, educational authorities tried to undermine the authenticity of student demonstrators by claiming that they were pawns of local elites and politicians, who were using the youths to fight their own political battles. Rather than being controlled by their community, students drew on local networks of power as a counterbalance to school authorities. Yet when the interests and advice of their parents, neighbors, and local leaders differed from their own, students demonstrated a surprising willingness to go their own way, though risking the loss of powerful allies could cripple a protest. Despite the hostility of educational officials to strikes, moreover, students throughout the colonial period achieved limited objectives by removing themselves from school. Filipino school officials demonstrated a marked ambivalence toward student activism. On the one hand, at least some teachers expressed sympathy and support for student protests. Figures like Rafael Palma and Jorge Bocobo also supported student efforts to push for independence.

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On the other hand, these same authorities attempted to undercut student radicalization on the University of the Philippines campus in the late 1920s and early 1930s, and particularly student protests against the university administration. Just as the Bureau of Education had instructed American teachers to divorce education and politics, as though education were not a deeply political endeavor, officials at the university attempted to tamp down student strikes and protests that were seen as damaging to campus discipline and order. These battles often centered on student comportment while on campus, and the freedom to express political opinions at university forums and in student newspapers. Many Filipino educational officials were happy to encourage students to demonstrate for independence, but they were less enthusiastic when this protest was turned against the university. Education provided an entrée for Filipino students to participate in political discussions about nationalism and independence, and to protest the American colonial regime. In the early years of American rule, education provided a major justification for empire, and became a primary way that Filipinos encountered Americans and the colonial state. After 1916, education became an opening wedge in the campaign for independence, and a metaphor for Filipino capacity for self-rule. Using the arguments of benevolent assimilation, Filipino nationalists argued that, just like its youths, the nation had been sufficiently “educated” to function independently of the United States. In this context, American intimations of Filipino students’ unfitness took on greater political meaning, and abusive American teachers became a stand-in for a repressive colonial state. When students protested against bigoted teachers, then, they were not standing up only for themselves, but also for the capacity of the Filipino race. And just as the nation could now do without the tutelary oversight of the United States, many argued, Filipino students could do without the direction of American instructors.

– –      From the beginning of colonial education, Filipino students demonstrated a willingness to challenge their teachers and school authorities, and to protest against the American characterization of Filipinos as unruly savages. Throughout the first dozen years of colonial education, students launched strikes to protest both verbal and physical insults, and to defend their right to respectful treatment by their teachers. For Filipino students,

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both corporal punishment and disparaging comments were an affront to their inherent dignity as individuals.4 Formal organizing and protest across schools and provinces was difficult because of the legal restrictions of the early colonial state, including sedition laws that made it illegal to advocate for the independence of the Philippines.5 In a clear reaction to sedition laws, the Asociación Escolar de Filipinas, a student organization that operated from 1904 to 1907, declared that its aims were to “promote and stimulate the dissemination and instruction of the Student Youth, as well intellectually as materially,” but to avoid “all political and religious questions.” The next year, however, the organization issued a “memorial” celebrating William Jennings Bryan as the “tireless supporter of the principles of the American Constitution and of the liberty of the Philippine Islands.”6 Filipino students in the United States had more liberty to express their feelings about American politics and Philippine independence. While studying as a pensionado at Indiana University in 1904, Jorge Bocobo went with a group of students, including three other Filipinos, to Bedford to hear an address by William Jennings Bryan. Bryan was delayed, and some of the American students convinced the chairman of the meeting to allow the Filipino students to get up and say a few words. They spoke briefly in favor of the Democratic Party, and Bocobo evoked Bryan’s stance against empire in 1900 as the democratic nominee. 4

5

6

From the early years of colonial government, Filipino teachers also demonstrated a willingness to confront the Bureau of Education to express their dissatisfaction with working conditions. Bernard Moses reported that a delegation of fifty or sixty of Manila’s native teachers came to see him to complain that their salaries were too low and to demand an increase. When Moses replied that it “would probably be done,” but that he could not say when or how much, the teachers argued that until such time, they should be allowed to continue the tradition of receiving gifts and money from their pupils. Moses did, perhaps partially influenced by this protest, recommend increasing native teachers’ salaries by a third. Bernard Moses, diary entry, October 4, 1900, vol. 1, “Philippine Diary,” Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley, CA; Moses, diary entry, October 8, 1900, vol. 1, “Philippine Diary.” Anyone advocating independence could be imprisoned for up to a year and fined up to $2,000. There were some student papers that were apparently suppressed by the military, along with other nationalist periodicals. Corazon Damo-Santiago, A Century of Activism (Manila: Rex Book Store, 1977), 4–5; Aurelio Alvero, “The Youth Movement,” in New Philippines: A Book on the Building Up of a New Nation, ed. Felixberto G. Bustos and Abelardo J. Fajardo (Manila: Carmelo & Bauermann, Inc., 1935), 163. See also Wenceslao Q. Vinzons, “A Brief History of the Youth Movement (1868–1934),” Philippine Intercollegiate Press 2, no. 1 (January 1934): 15. Vinzons, “A Brief History of the Youth Movement (1868–1934),” 15. See also DamoSantiago, A Century of Activism, 4–5.

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Bocobo recalled that their speeches were the talk of the campus for several days.7 Even while they were in the United States on government scholarships, the pensionados were willing and able to speak in favor of Philippine independence in front of Americans. Indeed, their removal from the colonial state made this speech easier, and freer from repercussions.8 Despite limits on speech regarding independence, Filipino students did protest and strike when faced with a bigoted or abusive teacher. When Helen Trace, a teacher at the provincial high school in Balayan, Batangas, slapped a boy in her first class in October 1903, the students immediately responded. The brother of the student who had been slapped phoned the division superintendent of the province and reported the abuse. He may have resorted so quickly to the highest provincial authority because the principal of the school was Russell Trace, Helen Trace’s husband, and probably viewed as unlikely to take any serious action. That afternoon, the students of the first and second class met and decided to strike in protest.9 The strike lasted for several weeks, during which the students decided to hold their own lectures, given by advanced students, so that they would not fall behind in their studies. When Russell Trace moved other students into Helen Trace’s class, they also joined the strike.10 Either because of the breadth of the protest or because of the justice of the students’ complaint, the Traces were transferred from Balayan in November.11 The event did not seriously affect the career of either, however. By

7

8

9

10 11

Jorge Bocobo, Memoir, Biographical Features – Memoirs, etc. folder, box 30, Jorge Bocobo Papers [hereafter Bocobo Papers], University Library, University of the Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City. For more on pensionados, nationalism, and the politics of dress, see Sarah SteinbockPratt, “‘It Gave Us Our Nationality’: US Education, the Politics of Dress and Transnational Filipino Student Networks, 1901–45,” Gender & History 26, no. 3 (November 2104): 565–88. “Maestros Que Pegan,” El Grito del Pueblo, October 28, 1903, Media Services, University Library, University of the Philippines Diliman, Quezon City. Copy of article provided by Maria Cleofe Marpa. The newspaper also noted that this was not the first incident involving the Traces, and that there had been prior complaints and threats of legal action leveled at the couple. “Maestros Que Pegan,” El Grito del Pueblo, October 28, 1903. Russell Trace, “Experiences and Educational Progress in the Islands,” 377, vol. 2, box 6, Walter W. Marquardt Papers [hereafter Marquardt Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Trace does not mention why he and his wife were transferred, or anything about the slapping incident, in his recollections of his time in Balayan.

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1906, Russell Trace was listed as a Supervising Teacher in Taal, Batangas, while Helen was teaching in the intermediate school.12 Still, this early protest was one of the few instances in which striking students achieved their goal. Even though Helen Trace was transferred rather than fired, she was removed from the high school. The Balayan strike may have been successful because of the clear-cut nature of the offense (as opposed to later complaints against verbally abusive teachers). It is also possible that the timing of the strike was particularly auspicious. The American educational system was barely two years old, and school officials had spent much of that time convincing Filipinos to buy into colonial education, to persuade parents to send their children to the public schools. For students in a prosperous region to withdraw from the public school might send an alarming message about the failure of the educational project. Once the schools were more firmly established, and parents more thoroughly convinced of the value of education, school authorities would have more leverage to wield against student protests, and a better ability to stand firm against strikers. The incident also had an impact on the way teachers were directed to behave by the Bureau of Education. In November 1903, Director of Education David Barrows issued a circular forbidding corporal punishment in the secondary schools.13 While Helen Trace was certainly not the first teacher to strike a student, the timing and wording of the circular clearly indicate that it was provoked at least in part by this conflict. Barrows directed teachers that corporal punishment included not only “whipping, but especially blows upon the face with the hand.” Moreover, 12

13

Official Roster of the Bureau of Education, Corrected to March 1, 1906 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1906), 7. See also Trace, “Experiences and Educational Progress in the Islands,” 367. “El Castigo en las Escuelas,” El Grito del Pueblo, November 12, 1903, Media Services, University Library, University of the Philippines Diliman, Quezon City. Copy of article provided by Maria Cleofe Marpa; and David P. Barrows, Circular No. 26, s. 1903, November 11, 1903, “General Circulars, 1903–1909,” Bureau of Education, Philippine Islands, Herman B. Wells Library, Indiana University. Other teachers reported using corporal punishment on their students. Walter W. Marquardt recorded that he “thrashed” some boys for writing on their desks, and beat eight students with a piece of rattan for playing hooky and gambling. While Mary Cole declared that she and Harry never whipped their students, she noted that two teachers who did do so had aroused ill will in the town and been transferred. Marquardt, diary entry, August 23, 1901, vol. 1, box 6, Marquardt Papers; Marquardt, diary entry, September 15, 1901, vol. 1, box 6, Marquardt Papers; and Mary Cole, Letter to Dear Folks, February 9, 1902, folder 5, box 1, Harry and Mary Cole Papers [hereafter Cole Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI.

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students at this level should be considered “no longer children but young men and women” who were able to choose between behaving and leaving school. As a result, students who were guilty of misconduct should be suspended or expelled. If the offense were “flagrant,” Barrows continued, the expulsion could take place in front of the whole school.14 This circular distinguished between allowable violence toward younger versus older children, designating high school students as more capable of self-control and therefore less acceptable targets of physical correction. In a circular issued a year later, Barrows banned the use of physical punishment from all the public schools, except with the written permission and upon the request of the parents or guardian of the offending student.15 In his report for 1908, Barrows declared that corporal punishment had been entirely forbidden both because it was believed to be an unwise practice and because under the Civil Code teachers who struck students might be liable to being put on trial and fined.16 Indeed, this nearly happened to Blaine Free Moore, who reported that after leaving five boys tied up in the book room in order to scare them after bad behavior, one of the boys’ fathers had threatened to bring him up on charges before the justice of the peace. He pretended to be unconcerned, but noted that he had taken warning from this confrontation and “slowed up a bit” on punishment.17 This indicates that local communities supported students who were protesting physical punishment, to the point of threatening to arrest and charge teachers, though it does not appear that any teachers were ever actually charged with assault for hitting a pupil. This incident was part of an early debate on the proper treatment and discipline of students. Several of the student protests that followed also revolved around what methods teachers could use to discipline their pupils, and what constituted excessive behavior. After 1904, however, the debate would largely shift to what words teachers could use to admonish or describe their students, and the ways that teachers spoke of Filipino capacity in general. While students continued to protest physically forceful correction, issues of respect and shame came to dominate conflicts over teachers’ behavior more than corporal punishment.

14 15 16 17

Barrows, Circular No. 26, s. 1903, November 11, 1903, “General Circulars, 1903–1909.” Barrows, Circular No. 65, s. 1904, September 14, 1904, “General Circulars, 1903–1909.” Barrows, The Eighth Annual Report of the Director of Education, July 1, 1907, to June 30, 1908, second edition (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1909), 25. Blaine Free Moore, letter to Pa and Ma, September 16, 1903, folder 5, box 1, Blaine Free Moore Papers [hereafter Moore Papers], Library of Congress.

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The changing political context between 1907 and 1912 almost certainly influenced the tenor of both student protests and the response of the Bureau of Education during this period. The creation of the Philippine Assembly and the ascension of the Partido Nacionalista, the escalating push for independence that national elections encouraged, and support among the most ardent nationalists for armed uprisings to achieve sovereignty would have informed the way that students understood challenging their teachers’ prejudiced behavior. Additionally, the charged political atmosphere would have shaped educational officials’ reactions to students’ perceived insubordination, leading them to interpret school protests as part of a wider uprising against American authority.18 Even as early strikes succeeded in limiting and regulating the behavior of American teachers, the Bureau of Education began cracking down on student protests, and strikes in particular. Noting that strikes were a “common school offense,” Barrows declared that the impetus behind such demonstrations was that students intended to gain leverage by removing themselves from the public school, in order to negotiate with the educational authorities the terms on which they would return. This tactic, he continued, was “intolerable” and damaging to the “dignity of the instructors and the good order of the school.” The official position of the Bureau of Education, therefore, was that students who left school “for the deliberate purpose of injuring and embarrassing their teachers” would be suspended or expelled. If the local community supported the strike, moreover, the school would be entirely closed and the American teacher withdrawn.19 Strikes, then, became a fight for control over what was allowable in the public schools. The crux of the issue for both strikers and officials revolved around issues of respect and proper conduct. The Bureau of Education’s no-tolerance policy was an attempt to end strikes as a tactic of protest. In December of 1910, Frank R. White, the Director of Education, sent John DeHuff to investigate school strikes at the high school in Lucena and the intermediate school in Atimonan, Tayabas province (now Quezon province). DeHuff discovered that one of the American teachers had “made slighting remarks in the classroom concerning the Filipinos’ aspirations for ‘independence’ and had resorted 18

19

For more on the political unrest of this period, see Reynaldo C. Ileto, Filipinos and Their Revolution: Event, Discourse, and Historiography (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1998), 147–9; and Motoe Terami-Wada, Sakdalistas’ Struggle for Philippine Independence, 1930–1945 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2014), 9–10. Barrows, The Eighth Annual Report of the Director of Education, 26.

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to calling the pupils rather hard names, such as pigs” when she was frustrated or out of temper.20 White had decreed that, since there were procedures by which students could present grievances to school authorities, strikes were not a legitimate form of protest, and therefore strikers would not be interviewed during the bureau’s investigation. In accordance with this policy, DeHuff interviewed only those students who had not left school, and the strikers were suspended from school for the rest of the year.21 On December 1, 1910, Frank White issued a circular reiterating the Bureau of Education’s position on school strikes. While declaring strikes to be forbidden, White noted that students could still make a “dignified and respectful protest” to school officials, and promised that any complaint brought to the attention of his department “in a proper official way” would receive prompt and thorough investigation.22 In declaring school strikes to be an illegitimate method of complaint, and outlining the “proper” way, the Bureau of Education was attempting to define both the boundaries and limitations of student protest, and the meaning of dignity as it related to students’ relations with their instructors. Despite attempts by education officials to delegitimize this form of protest, strikes that gained enough public attention and community support still could be an effective means to push for reforms and the regulation of teachers’ behavior. Officials recognized that discussions in school about Filipino aspirations had “caused more trouble and bad feeling between American teachers and native pupils than anything else that could be mentioned.” Eventually, the Director of Education issued an order forbidding teachers from engaging in any discussion on the issue of Philippine independence or Filipino capacity for independence.23 It is clear, therefore, that while the Bureau of Education refused to officially listen to strikers’ grievances, student protests did affect the way teachers were allowed to speak and behave in the classroom.

20

21 22

23

DeHuff, “Memories of Orient Seas,” 354–5, box 5, Elizabeth Willis DeHuff Papers [hereafter Willis DeHuff Papers], Center for Southwest Research, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque. DeHuff, “Memories of Orient Seas,” 354; DeHuff, diary entries, December 1–18, 1910, diary 1909, box 5, Willis DeHuff Papers. Frank R. White, Circular No. 169, December 1, 1910, “Circulars, 1910,” vol. 619, Library Materials, RG 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park, Maryland. DeHuff, “Memories of Orient Seas,” 380.

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The Bureau of Education also attempted to prevent Filipino teachers from expressing support for student protests or engaging in their own. In November 1910, The Filipino Teacher noted there had been multiple school strikes that month in Lucena, Tayabas, and Rizal Provinces, and that as it was “not a hot season at all . . . some irregularities, enough to lead both students and teachers to leave their schools, must have taken place.”24 The article declared that three teachers’ strikes in Rizal Province “must have been based on some reasonable and justified cause,” in order to unite so many teachers. Despite this, the article continued, the division superintendent had refused the demand of the strikers to remove a particular supervisor, without “any sort of investigation whatsoever.”25 This support for strikes, against which the Bureau of Education had taken such a hard line, appears to have been sufficient to arouse the ire of educational officials. Two more issues of The Filipino Teacher were published, under the new name The Progress of Education, for January and February 1911, though both the paper and the organization appear to have dissolved after that point. The January issue declared that “certain hidden hands” were working for the “downfall” of the Philippine Teachers’ Association, and that members had resigned out of fear of losing their positions.26 By explicitly supporting striking students and teachers in open contravention of the policies of their own employer, the Bureau of Education appears to have decided that the PTA went too far, and forced the dissolution of the society and its organ. In addition, in 24

25 26

“Strikes,” The Filipino Teacher 5, no. 6 (November 1910): 1. The Philippine Teachers’ Association, originally a mutual aid society, began in 1903 to focus on professional development. In 1907, it launched The Filipino Teacher, edited by Justo Juliano, the Secretary of the PTA and a teacher at the Paco Intermediate School in Manila. Juliano had been forced to resign from the PTA after his anti-imperialist poem, “Sursum Corda,” was published in El Renacimiento in 1907. He was reelected as General Secretary of the PTA in May of 1910, and also resumed editing The Filipino Teacher, though from June 1910 the paper stopped listing the name of the editor on its front page. For the full text of “Sursum Corda,” as well as an editorial note on Juliano’s resignation as a teacher, see Jesus C. Olega, ed., Filipino Masterpieces: Collection of Prize Orations and Poems, Speeches, Lectures, Articles, Etc. (Manila: Juan Fajardo, 1924), 99. For Juliano’s resignation and reinstatement at the PTA, see: “Philippine Teachers’ Association,” The Filipino Teacher 2, no. 3 (September 1908), 15; and “The Fourth Annual Convention of the P.T.A.,” The Filipino Teacher 4, no. 1 (June 1910), 6. “Strikes,” The Filipino Teacher, vol. IV, no. 6 (November, 1910): 2. “Important News about the P.T.A.,” The Progress of Education, 4, no. 8 (January 1911): 13. Walter W. Marquardt noted the end of the PTA and its paper, though he incorrectly attributed their demise to Juliano’s publication of “Sursum Corda.” Walter W. Marquardt, “School Societies,” vol. 2, pp. 200–1, box 6, Marquardt Papers.

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the December 1910 circular which defined departmental policies toward school strikes, Frank White made clear that public school teachers who gave “assistance or sympathy” to a school strike would be subject to the “severest disciplinary measures.”27 Although Filipino students were protesting bigoted teachers, there was not yet a unified nationalist call for Filipinization. When the University of the Philippines, established in 1908, launched a search for its first president, the editorial staff of the College Folio, a student publication, asked that the new head be a scholar, free from political affiliations. They also expressed doubt that there was a Filipino “equipped” for the position, prepared by training in “progressive modern college life” to take up the post. If there were, the students noted that they were ready to welcome him. But if not, they suggested hiring a foreigner, and declared: What we want is the best man, and we are sure we speak for the student body. Do not, we beg of you . . . give us a man unfit for the office . . . What we want is a scholarly, practical, pure, wide-awake, sensible, honest, and reliable educator – one who is both an energetic executive and a good judge of men.28

The call for the best scholar available, and the expressed doubt that there was a Filipino prepared to fill the post, demonstrates the starkly different politics of the early and late 1910s.29 Despite the efforts of the Bureau of Education to crack down on public protest, students continued to turn to strikes to confront bigotry and

27

28

29

White, Circular No. 169, December 1, 1910, “Circulars, 1910,” vol. 619, Library Materials, RG 350, NARA. Municipal teachers, who were almost always Filipinos, were explicitly forbidden from participating in or encouraging strikes in 1914, indicating that at least some teachers had done so. Frank L. Crone, “Regulations Covering the Appointment and Service of Municipal Teachers,” Circular No. 143, November 5, 1914, folder 470–580 to 659, part I, box 90, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. “The New President,” The College Folio 1, no. 2 (December 1910): 78, American Historical Collection, Rizal Library, Ateneo de Manila. The College Folio was the first student paper at the University of the Philippines. It began in 1910, was edited by Victoriano Yamzon and Maximo Kalaw, and ended in 1913. In 1917, the Varsity News, which was edited first by Carlos P. Romulo and then Narciso Ramos, began publication. When the Varsity News ended in 1922, it was replaced by the Philippine Collegian. See Luis V. Teodoro, ed., The Collegian Tradition: Philippine Collegian Winning and Prized Editorials, 1932–1995 (Quezon City: University of the Philippines, 1996), 11. The College Folio was clearly more conservative than later UP student papers. In 1912, after a large number of school strikes, the paper declared its confidence that the striking students had been unjustly treated. Still, it continued, strikes were a “violation to right conduct and sound judgment,” and should not be used to redress grievances. Salvador A. Santos, “School Strikes,” The College Folio 3, no. 1 (August 1912): 27–8, reel 124–2, National Library, Manila.

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abuse. In his annual report for 1911, Frank White declared that while strikes had been “somewhat common in earlier years,” they were now “becoming rare.”30 This assertion was clearly premature, as 200 students at the Bulacan High School went on strike in the summer of 1912 to protest of the principal of the school.31 In fact, 1912 was the zenith of a tumultuous period, with student strikes at Vigan and Candon in Ilocos Sur, at Tagudin in the Mountain Province, at the provincial high schools of Bulacan and Camarines, and at the central and intermediate schools in Tabaco, Albay.32 The strike in Bulacan was sparked by charges of physical violence and disrespectful behavior by the principal, William E. McVey. Students at the high school delivered a petition to the division superintendent asking for McVey’s removal, stating that he was overly harsh with students, to the point of grabbing and physically manhandling them, including female students.33 Rumors of a strike had begun to circulate when the Bureau of Education sent the division superintendent, Hammon H. Buck, to investigate the conflict. Buck met with the students, who promised that they were not planning a strike, and that they would abide by the decision of the superintendent.34 Buck also spoke with parents, prominent citizens, and municipal and provincial officials, about the situation. In his report on the incident, he noted that McVey acknowledged that he sometimes held the boys by the arms and put them in line while walking into or out of the school, and that he had made some boys stand on a platform for talking after having been told to stop. The superintendent concluded that McVey had not acted with an intention of hurting the students, and that

30 31

32 33

34

White, Eleventh Annual Report of the Director of Education, for the Fiscal Year July 1, 1910, to June 30, 1911 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1911), 20. Acting Director of Education, Letter to Newton W. Gilbert, August 16, 1912, vol. 5, p. 418, box 6, Marquardt Papers. Frank L. Crone served as the Acting Director of Education during the illness of Frank R. White, who died in 1913. After White’s death, Crone became the Director of Education. White, Thirteenth Annual Report of the Director of Education: July 1, 1912 to June 30, 1913 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1913), 14. “‘Principal’ Na Mabilasik,” Plaridel, July 31, 1912, trans. Maria Cleofe Marpa, from the collection of Perfecto Martin. The local newspaper, Plaridel, supported the students’ petition, though it expressed the hope and faith that rumors of an impending strike were unfounded, and that the students would wait for a thorough investigation by the Bureau of Education before taking any additional action. “Ang Aklasan Sa High School,” Plaridel, August 14, 1912, trans. Maria Cleofe Marpa, from the collection of Perfecto Martin.

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the students were simply rebelling against the discipline necessary to maintain order.35 After Frank Crone, the Acting Director of Education, declared that there was not sufficient cause to remove McVey, the students decided to strike and walked out of class.36 Two hundred students gathered on the street and paraded through Malolos with a flag and musicians. The superintendent alleged that the students also threatened other students who were going to school. This behavior, he argued, proved that the students did not want to resolve the conflict, and were only striking because they were not given their way.37 The Bureau of Education agreed, and students who had left school were banned from school the following Monday.38 Romualdo A. Vijandre, one of the leaders of the protest, depicted the strike as the result of McVey’s repeated abuse of the students of the high school. He declared that the principal had roughly pushed and shaken students more than once, and had pulled on the sleeve of a female student. Vijandre argued that McVey viewed his pupils as animals rather than humans, and that the students were striking to fight for justice and their rights.39 The crux of the issue, in his interpretation, was not just the physical abuse, but also the disrespect that it conveyed. Moreover, defending the choice to launch a strike, he claimed that McVey had taunted the students, bragging that he would not be punished, and would be even stricter in the future. In the face of an indifferent educational bureaucracy, and fearful of the future punishments from McVey, Vijandre declared, the students decided to strike.40 While the Bureau of Education defined striking as engaging in an undignified method of 35 36 37

38 39

40

“Paliwanang Ng Superintendenteng Si Mr. E.G. Turner,” Plaridel, September 7, 1912, trans. Maria Cleofe Marpa, from the collection of Perfecto Martin. “Ang Aklasan Sa High School,” Plaridel, August 14, 1912. “Paliwanang Ng Superintendenteng Si Mr. E.G. Turner,” Plaridel, September 7, 1912. In a report written in 1916, Frank Crone also declared that the strikers picketed the school grounds and refused to let other students enter the building until the Constabulary was called to the scene. Crone, letter to H. S. Martin, March 11, 1916, vol. 5, p. 400, box 6, Marquardt Papers. “Tungkol Pa Sa Pag-Aaklas,” Plaridel, August 17, 1912, trans. Maria Cleofe Marpa, from the collection of Perfecto Martin. “Tungkol Pa Sa Pag-Aaklas,” Plaridel, August 21, 1912, trans. Maria Cleofe Marpa, from the collection of Perfecto Martin. Plaridel expressed misgivings regarding the strike as a tactic of protest. At the same time, the paper also published the students’ petition, as well as Vijandre’s defense of the strike. “Tungkol Pa Sa Pag-Aaklas,” Plaridel, August 17, 1912. “Tungkol Pa Sa Pag-Aaklas,” Plaridel, August 21, 1912.

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protest, then, for Vijandre the strike was about upholding and defending students’ dignity and the right to a basic level of respect. In a report to the Secretary of Public Instruction, Newton W. Gilbert, Crone declared that he believed the students’ protest merited severe punishment. He dismissed the complaints against Mr. McVey and cited Buck’s report, who he identified as a “strong Filipinista,” and whose recommendations closely mirrored his own.41 In the end, Crone suspended the majority of the strikers for one year, and expelled ten leaders of the protest, including Romualdo Vijandre.42 From this point onwards, the Bureau of Education began alleging that the support of local politicians was behind student activism, and that students would not resort to strikes if they had not been encouraged to do so by these men. In his report for the 1912–13 school year, Frank White declared that school strikes were “more or less peculiar to the Philippines,” and invariably arose “due to the intervention of politicians with ulterior motives.” Parents, he declared, were almost universally against such protests.43 White concluded by asserting his belief that strikes would be “much rarer in the future.”44 As he had in his 1911 report, White again underestimated the willingness of Filipino students to protest what they saw as bigoted or disrespectful behavior by their teachers. Furthermore, framing student strikes as driven by politicians, and students as the puppets of these figures, led educational officials to misunderstand the 41 42

43

44

Crone, Letter to Newton W. Gilbert, August 16, 1912, vol. 5, box 6, Marquardt Papers. “Kinahanggahan Ng Aklasan,” Plaridel, September 23, 1912, trans. Maria Cleofe Marpa, from the collection of Perfecto Martin. At least some of the expelled students would go to graduate from colonial schools. Both Jose de Jesus and Feliza Marquez attained BAs from the University of the Philippines. According to his son-in-law, Romualdo Vijandre was “exiled” to Hong Kong, though he later graduated from the Philippine Normal School, and became a public-school teacher in Sal Ildefonso, Bulacan before moving to Cabanatuan to become a rice merchant. See Twelfth Annual Commencement of the University of the Philippines (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1922), 19, 21; and Sedfrey A. Ordoñez, Life Cycle: 50 Years in Law and Letters (Quezon City: Megabooks Company, 1999), 31. White, Thirteenth Annual Report of the Director of Education: July 1, 1912 to June 30, 1913 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1913), 14–15. The claim that strikes were unique to the Philippines was not true, though it was perhaps accurate that strikes were less frequently used in American schools. Certainly, students in the Philippines had a long legacy of activism, as students had played a crucial role in the propaganda movement and the lead up to the Philippine Revolution in 1896. For more on student activism during Spanish colonization, see Alvero, “The Youth Movement,” New Philippines, 161–8. For more on global student protest, see Mark Edelman Boren, Student Resistance: A History of the Unruly Subject (New York, NY: Routledge, 2001). White, Thirteenth Annual Report of the Director of Education, 14–15.

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degree to which students were willing to pursue their own agendas, even against the will of political and community supporters.

– –  ,  ,     A palpable shift in students’ protests had taken place by the late 1910s. Students still challenged disrespectful behavior by their American teachers, but these protests became increasingly marked by nationalism and the desire to defend the aspirations of the Filipino race. In this context, an individual slight began to be interpreted as an affront to the capacity of the entire nation. This shift was almost certainly influenced by the political changes taking shape on both sides of the Pacific, and the anticipation of eventual independence for the Philippines. The years from 1912 to 1919 were tumultuous ones for the Philippines. Woodrow Wilson and the Democratic Party retook the White House, leading to a large-scale overhaul of colonial prerogatives and administration, and a widespread anticipation of imminent independence among Filipinos. The new Governor General, Francis Burton Harrison, seemed to validate these expectations, declaring a policy of Filipinization upon his arrival in 1913, whereby Americans in government positions would be replaced by Filipinos wherever possible. The US Government also began early preparations for Philippine independence with the Jones Act of 1916, which replaced the Philippine Commission with an elected Senate and declared a commitment to independence once a stable government had been established. Finally, the First World War, and particularly the rhetoric of democracy and self-determination utilized by President Wilson, undoubtedly influenced the ways in which Filipino nationalists understood and expressed their own campaign for freedom. The new tenor of student protests, and the clear linking of individual and national dignity, can be clearly seen in the response of students to attempts to remove Ignacio Villamor as president of the University of the Philippines. In the summer of 1918, journalist Manuel X. Burgos, Jr. attacked Villamor, the second head and first Filipino president of the University, in the pages of the Manila Times, arguing that both students and professors saw him as a “marked failure.”45 The next day, an 45

Manuel X. Burgos, Jr., “Wanted, a University President,” Manila Times, July 17, 1918, in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 1–3, box 14-B, Ignacio Villamor Papers [hereafter Villamor Papers], University Library, University of the

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editorial in the paper proclaimed that, while the university had progressed farther under Villamor than under Murray Bartlett, his predecessor, “men of the character and type needed for the presidency of the University of the Philippines, are not to be found in the Philippine Islands,” and suggested asking President Woodrow Wilson to nominate a new candidate for the position.46 These comments created an uproar among students at the university, many of whom rushed to defend the president.47 The Varsity News, the student paper edited by law student Carlos Romulo, also came out strongly in support of Villamor. Noting that the protest was “purely a student affair,” the paper exhorted the students to “show the American public that there is alive within the university a spirit which allows no insult to pass unnoticed, calumnies that are vicious, cannot be permitted to pass unchallenged.” The insult, Romulo claimed, was not only directed against Villamor, but also every university student, and it was every student’s responsibility to respond to the attack.48 Romulo and The Varsity News interpreted Burgos’s article, and the follow-up in the Times, as casting aspersions not only on their president, but on themselves as well, and urged students to fight against the insult of the Manila Times and all Americans. In noting that the protest was “purely a student affair,” Romulo was anticipating the claims of observers that the students were being goaded into action by professors or politicians. Despite the fact that the original article had been written by a Filipino, moreover, Romulo interpreted the assault as an American one. In response to the attack, a group of UP students passed a resolution in support of Villamor, and held a mass meeting at which they made plans to “mob” the offices of the Manila Times.49 The Varsity News supported this protest, noting that, for the first time in its history, the head of the

46 47 48 49

Philippines Diliman, Quezon City. Manuel X. Burgos, Jr., was an editor at the Manila Times, and the “right-hand man” of Manuel Quezon, the president of the corporation that published the paper. See Damo-Santiago, A Century of Activism, 9. “The University Presidency,” Manila Times, July 18, 1918, in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 6–9, Villamor Papers. “Students of U.P. Support Villamor,” The Varsity News, n.d., in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 82–3, Villamor Papers. “Mass Meeting Today,” The Varsity News, July 20, 1918, in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 90, Villamor Papers. “Students to Make Protest,” Manila Times, July 19, 1918, in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 84–7, Villamor Papers.

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 .. UP Students Protesting at the Manila Times’ Office, 1918 (Manila Times, 1918)

University of the Philippines was a Filipino.50 To do nothing and allow the paper to denigrate the abilities of a Filipino to lead the national university would be equal to allowing Americans to claim superiority and a natural right to rule over the islands. In order to defend their capacity and demonstrate their fitness for selfrule, the leaders of the student movement attempted to stage a dignified protest. As the 300 students were preparing to march to the Manila Times office, they all agreed to be “gentlemanly,” and that there “should be no violence, that property should be respected and that no insulting words should be uttered.” As the students neared their destination, someone shouted, “We are near the trench. Boys prepare.” According to Romulo’s account, the students marched into the office in a noisy but orderly manner, and denounced the Times articles attacking Villamor. When the editor, L. H. Thibault, came out to meet them, one of the students

50

“To ‘Mob’ Times Office Today,” The Varsity News, July 20, 1918, in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 95, Villamor Papers.

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climbed onto a counter and delivered a speech on the loyalty of the students to their president.51 When Thibault responded, he made the mistake of addressing the students as “boys.” The protestors immediately disclaimed against the word, saying, “We are not boys.” The editor continued, once more using the word “boys,” which he corrected to “students.”52 The students’ outrage at being called boys demonstrates their desire to claim manhood. They would not let the editor address them as adolescents, even though they had used the term themselves upon reaching the Times offices. To call themselves “boys” was acceptable in the context of the language of warfare, as soldiers going into the fray, but not when used by an American editor, which they took to be an attempt to speak down to them. After Thibault declared that the paper was not partisan and only wanted the best for the university, Romulo made a parting speech, and the students left.53 In an article titled “Speaking for Ourselves,” The Varsity News framed the protest as primarily about defending the university against an “unwarranted and unjustified” criticism.54 The timing of the protest, moreover, was important. The paper noted that the Philippines as a nation was undergoing a “crucial test,” watched by a “vigilant eye.” When the First World War ended, it continued, “the day of reckoning for our country will have come,” and the ability of Filipinos to take their place “among the sisterhood of nations” would be weighed on the “balance of American justice.”55 This sense of being watched and evaluated by American authorities was why proper comportment, the immaculate demonstration of civilized manliness, was so crucial. The criticism of a university president, and the ability of students to protest without disorder, was all interpreted through the lens of Filipino fitness for self-rule, and everything the students, and all Filipinos, did now would all come to account when the question of Philippine sovereignty was called. Coming

51 52 53 54 55

“Times Office Is Mobbed by University Students,” The Varsity News, n.d., in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 106–7, Villamor Papers. “Times Office Is Mobbed by University Students,” The Varsity News, n.d., in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 107–8, Villamor Papers. “Times Office Is Mobbed by University Students,” The Varsity News, n.d., in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 107–8, Villamor Papers. “Speaking for Ourselves,” The Varsity News, n.d., in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 110–16, Villamor Papers. “Speaking for Ourselves,” The Varsity News, n.d., in “Scrapbook: Mysterious Attack on President Villamor,” 115–16, Villamor Papers.

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as it did on the heels of the Jones Act, and on the cusp of a longanticipated independence, the 1918 UP protest marked the beginning of the explicit linking of student protest to nationalist politics.

– –    Once the war ended, it appeared that Philippine independence would soon follow. Indeed, in his 1919 report, Governor General Harrison noted that the wartime statements about “the rights and liberties of small nationalities” and the “doctrine of self- determination” had given rise to a general expectation of independence. In order to pursue this end, the Philippine Legislature appointed a mission to the United States, led by Manual Quezon, the president of the senate. Praising the “vigor and strength” of the arguments made by the mission, the loyalty of Filipinos during the war, and the recent elections held in the islands, Harrison noted that he was in favor of “an early grant of independence.”56 President Wilson also lent his support to granting independence in his final message to Congress, declaring that the Philippine government had met the conditions outlined in the Jones Act.57 In the early 1920s, however, with the election of Republican Warren G. Harding, the push for both independence and Filipinization suffered setbacks. In order to justify retention of the islands, Harding sent Leonard Wood and W. Cameron Forbes as the head of a commission to evaluate Philippine preparedness for autonomy. Their report, while highlighting some areas of progress, was largely unfavorable. Leonard Wood also became the new Governor General, and steadfastly attempted to curtail much of the autonomy that Harrison had informally allowed the Legislature and his cabinet to exercise. This interference led to the resignation of his entire cabinet in 1923.58 As part of the rollback of Filipinization, Guy 56

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58

Francis Burton Harrison, Report of the Governor General of the Philippine Islands, 1919, 3–5. See also, “Statement of Hon. Francis Burton Harrison, Governor General of the Philippines,” in Philippine Independence: Hearings before the Committee on the Philippines, United States Senate, and the Committee on Insular Affairs, House of Representatives (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1919), 105–11. Frank Hindman Golay, Face of Empire: United States-Philippine Relations, 1898–1946 (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2010, orig. pub. Madison: Center for Southeast Asian Studies, University of Wisconsin-Madison, 1998), 230. See Golay, Face of Empire, 229–69; and Bernardita Reyes Churchill, “The Philippine Independence Missions to the United States, 1919–1934” (PhD diss., Australian National University, 1981). Jorge Bocobo also mentions this political crisis in his memoir. Bocobo, Memoir, Bocobo Papers.

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Potter Benton, an American, replaced Ignacio Villamor as President of the University of the Philippines. Filipino advocates of independence extended their efforts to persuade the US Government to grant independence in the interwar period. The Philippine Legislature created a Commission on Independence, which sent delegates to Washington as part of successive independence missions from 1919 to 1933.59 At the same time, the number of secret societies and fraternal organizations in the islands, mostly concentrated around Manila, continued to rise. Many of these groups supported Artemio Ricarte, a former general in the Philippine Army exiled in Japan, who advocated independence through armed insurrection.60 By the late 1920s, student protest had taken an explicitly proindependence stance, linking personal indignities suffered by students at the hands of their American teachers with the relationship between the United States and the Philippines. In many ways, Manila’s public schools were primed for conflicts of this nature. The political context in the United States and the Philippines, including the push for independence, racial terror and anti-Filipino violence in California and along the West Coast, the increasing labor agitation in Manila, and publicized conflicts between American teachers and Filipino students all contributed to turning Manila into a powder keg of protest. The atmosphere of the University of the Philippines had become far more radical, and student protest far more prevalent, by the end of the decade. In 1929, the university was thrown into uproar by an article written by an American instructor in English. Jessie Downing Artamanoff had taught at the Manila East High School for about a year, and obtained a temporary appointment at the University of the Philippines in June of 1929.61 That same month, an article by Artamanoff about her experiences teaching in the high school was published in the Kansas City Star. The article was reprinted in the Philippines Herald in July, causing an immediate outcry at the negative way she portrayed her pupils. Artamanoff depicted her female pupils as childlike and intellectually limited, with 59 60 61

For more on the independence missions, see Golay, Face of Empire; and Churchill, “The Philippine Independence Missions to the United States, 1919–1934.” Terami-Wada, Sakdalistas’ Struggle for Philippine Independence, 1930–1945, 9–10. “Countess May Be Investigated for Her Article: Mrs. J. D. Artamanoff May Lose Position in State University,” Philippines Herald, August 3, 1929, folder – Jessie Downing (France) Artamanoff, box 32, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. See also, “She’ll Wed Once-Titled Russian,” Bradford Evening Star and Daily Record, March 12, 1928, 4.

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no greater ambition than to become housewives, nurses, or teachers. Artamanoff also declared that her students were willing to cheat and to bribe their teachers to pass their classes, which was a direct result of the ubiquity of “bribery and graft” in Philippine politics and society.62 This incident provoked a firestorm of protest from students and university officials. Artamanoff was investigated by the university administration, and ultimately forced to resign.63 Arturo M. Tolentino, a law student who had graduated from Manila East High School, denounced Artamanoff’s article as a work of fiction resulting from either prejudice or ignorance.64 The case also provoked some officials to push to Filipinize the Department of English, whose faculty was traditionally American, or at least to hire American women who were married to Filipinos.65 University students also began to formally participate in the push for independence, with the explicit support of UP officials. On January 12, 1930, the Junior Independence League, a nationalist organization created by students at the University of the Philippines, held a mass meeting and passed a resolution calling for the immediate independence of the islands.66 Both Rafael Palma, the President of the University, and Jorge Bocobo, the Dean of the Law School, endorsed the meeting and its purpose.67 62

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Jessie Downing Artamanoff, “Filipino Girls Bribe Their Way Thru School, Alleges American Teacher,” Philippine Herald, July 30, 1929, folder 3725-A-32, box 512, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. “Countess May Be Investigated for Her Article,” Philippines Herald, August 3, 1929, folder – Jessie Downing (France) Artamanoff, box 32, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA; “Artamanoff Incident Seen as Signal for Filipinization of English Faculty,” Philippines Herald, August 11, 1929, folder – Jessie Downing (France) Artamanoff, box 32, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Calling Artamanoff a “Countess” may have been a way to heighten the perceived class dynamic of the conflict. Arturo M. Tolentino, “Blind Prejudice or Sheer Ignorance Lurking Behind Artamanoff Article,” folder – Jessie Downing (France) Artamanoff, box 32, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. No newspaper title or date for this article is given, though it seems likely that it was published in the Philippines Herald, sometime between August 3 and August 11, 1929. “Artamanoff Incident Seen As Signal For Filipinization of English Faculty,” Philippines Herald, August 11, 1929, folder - Jessie Downing (France) Artamanoff, box 32, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. “Students World for P.I. Cause,” Philippines Herald, January 5, 1930, 1. “Students in Mammoth Mass Meeting Today Will Urge Independence for Philippines,” Philippines Herald, January 12, 1930, 1. Jorge Bocobo himself later spoke at a mass memorial for Fermin Tobera, calling the events in California a “race war” and arguing for Philippine independence. “20,000 People Say Prayers in Memory of Fermin Tobera,” Philippines Herald, February 4, 1930, 7.

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In addition to the radicalization of UP, Manila’s high schools, and North High School in particular, became a focal point of student activism.68 Between February and March of 1930, thousands of students went on strike, launching the biggest school protest in the American colonial period. The agitation spread to other Manila high schools, and ended only after the closing of all four of Manila’s high schools and the Philippine School of Commerce for the rest of the school year. Initially, the strike appeared to be similar to those that had preceded it: students were protesting derogatory comments made by an American teacher. It quickly became imbricated with the politics of the day, however, including the reaction to racial violence in the United States. The high school strike broke out only a few weeks after an anti-Filipino riot in Watsonville, California, during which a white mob murdered Fermin Tobera, a Filipino.69 This incident sparked protests on both sides of the Pacific Ocean, as well as calls for independence in the Philippines and a cessation of Filipino migration in the United States.70 In Manila, students from UP marched with signs calling for “justice” and “fairness” for Filipinos.71 February 2 was designated a day of prayer and mourning for Tobera, with fifteen thousand people attending a memorial service in Luneta Park, which turned into a rally demanding independence.72 In this context, another protest over the bigoted expressions of one American

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Manila North High School was created in 1921, when the Manila High School split into two schools, North and South. In addition to the 1930 strike, I have found references to a strike there in the late 1920s, though it is not clear if these sources are mistakenly attributing the 1930 strike to that period. See Nick Joaquin, San Miguel de Manila: Memoirs of a Regal Parish (Manila: Weekly Graphic Magazine Pub. Co., 1990), 79; and Rocio Reyes Kapunan, The Psychology of Adolescence (Rex Book Store, Inc., 1971), 25. For more on the history of the school, see Elizabeth M. Bartolome-Cristobal, “Arellano High School: A Brief History.” Available at: www.arellanohi58.com/webhist1.html (accessed June 21, 2017). The context of the Great Depression and racial violence along the West Coast was the beginning of a political partnership between Filipino nationalists and American exclusionists that would result in the creation of the Philippine Commonwealth. For more on the Watsonville riot and racial violence against Filipinos, see Linda España-Maram, Creating Masculinity in Los Angeles’s Little Manila: Working-Class Filipinos and Popular Culture, 1920s-1950s (New York, NY: University Press, 2006). “Protest Rites in in Provinces,” Manila Times, January 31, 1930, 4; “Humiliation Day Observed in Cabanatuan,” Tribune, February 4, 1930, 3; “Hawaii Filipinos Demand Freedom to Stop Rioting,” Philippines Herald, February 11, 1930, 1. “U.P. Students Protest California Riot,” Manila Times, January 31, 1930, 4. “Anti-Filipino Riots to Be Protested with Prayers,” Philippines Herald, January 28, 1930, 1; “To Watsonville Incident,” Philippines Herald, January 28, 1930, 1, 4; and Motoe Terami-Wada, “The Sakdal Movement,” Philippine Studies 36, no. 2 (1988): 132.

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teacher took on a broader political meaning, became intertwined with demands for political independence, and launched a strike that engulfed almost all of the Manila high schools and threw the Bureau of Education into chaos for several weeks. On February 13, 1930, students at the Manila North High School walked out of Mabel Brummitt’s class as a protest against insulting remarks she had made.73 Among the complaints were allegations that she had declared the US was wasting its time trying to teach a lazy and stupid people, and had called her students “savages, imbeciles, simmering idiots, contemptible cads, and vagabonds,” as well as “half-civilized” and “vile creatures.”74 The students also claimed that when they had tried to present a list of grievances to their principal, Mabel Carlson, she had threatened them with suspension if the story reached any of the city’s newspapers.75 The Superintendent for the Manila City Schools, Harvey A. Bordner, attempted to contain the protest. He denied that the students had “walked out” of class and that Carlson had threatened them with suspension, claiming that the students had talked the matter through with their teacher and principal, and had voluntarily returned to class after Brummitt explained her comments.76 Brummitt denied calling her students all of the ascribed epithets, arguing that she had said that some of her male students were making noises like “cocheros,” or rig drivers, and had “acted like imbeciles,” rather than being imbeciles. Bordner noted that Brummitt had been instructed to refrain from making any “disparaging remark in the future,” which she had promised to do.77 Just as Bordner was declaring the case closed, however, a committee of students visited the office of the Herald to give their side of the story and criticized Bordner for speaking only to Brummitt and Carlson about what had happened. The same day, one thousand senior and junior students met at the Iglesia de Cristo, a church across from North High School, and crafted a petition demanding the dismissal of Brummitt.78 The momentum of the protest had gone too far to be curtailed.

73 74 75 76 77 78

“High School ‘Walkout’ Is Given Denial,” Manila Times, February 14, 1930, 1. “Student Walkout to Be Thoroughly Probed for Board,” Philippines Herald, February 15, 1930, 2. “High School Class Stages Walkout to Protest Alleged Insults,” Philippines Herald, February 14, 1930, 1, 11. “High School ‘Walkout’ is Given Denial,” Manila Times, February 14, 1930, 1. “Student Walkout to Be Thoroughly Probed for Board,” Philippines Herald, February 15, 1930, 2. “Student Walkout to Be Thoroughly Probed for Board,” Philippines Herald, February 15, 1930, 1.

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 .. North High School Students Pickett City Hall, 1930 (Philippines Herald, February 20, 1930)

The strikers linked their protest to the broader context of US– Philippine relations. On February 18, they held another mass meeting at Knox Memorial Church to adopt a resolution demanding Brummitt’s removal. The protest, the students declared, was not only about their school, but involved the “racial question” and the “dignity of the race.”79 At the meeting, made up of one thousand students from all the grades, Conrado Uy, a law student at the University of the Philippines, led the group in prayer against “imperialistic Americans.” Other speakers called on the students to “defend their national dignity and honor.”80 The Washington Post reported that the “California riots against Filipinos were mentioned frequently” at the meeting.81

79 80 81

“North High School Students Are Sending Ultimatum to Bewley,” Philippines Herald, February 18, 1930, 1–2. “Strike to Continue Until Authorities Fire M. Brummitt,” Philippines Herald, February 19, 1930, 12. “Philippine High School Students Strike,” The Washington Post, February 20, 1930, 7.

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Local politicians quickly became involved in the protest. At another mass meeting at the Knox Memorial grounds on February 19, Mayor Earnshaw attempted to persuade the students to return to class until the Director of Education had made a decision about Brummitt. Ignoring this, approximately two thousand students marched to City Hall, where student leaders gave a list of grievances to the Municipal Councilors. At least two councilors, Mateo Herrera and Mariano Noble, were supportive, promising an investigation of the students’ complaints, and declaring that the insult was not only against the students but the entire nation.82 At the same time, they encouraged the students to return to school while the case was investigated. The strikers again rejected the request to return to their classes, choosing to wait at City Hall for a decision on Brummitt. Luther Bewley, though, withheld his decision because of the students’ refusal to return to class.83 Instead, he “scolded” the strike leaders and sent them out of his office. The students apparently “left the room quietly,” but were infuriated by this treatment, and determined to continue to fight for their demands.84 Bewley had in fact received a report on the strike that day, which laid blame on both Brummitt and Carlson for the escalation of the conflict. It concluded that Brummitt had used insulting language, and while she denied that she had meant her comments to refer to the entire race, she admitted that she might have used the phrase “you, Filipinos.” In addition, it concluded that Mabel Carlson had exacerbated the incident by threatening the students with suspension and by demanding that they not speak to the papers.85 On February 21, city newspapers reported that the strike was over; Mabel Brummitt had been removed from North High School, and Bewley

82

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“Student Walkout to Be Thoroughly Probed for Board,” Philippines Herald, February 15, 1930, 1; “North High School Students Are Sending Ultimatum to Bewley,” Philippines Herald, February 18, 1930, 1–2; and “Strike to Continue Until Authorities Fire M. Brummitt,” Philippines Herald, February 19, 1930, 12. “Student Strike is Unsettled,” Manila Times, February 20, 1930, 1; “‘Red’ Pamphlet Adds Fuel to Student Strike,” Manila Times, February 19, 1930, 1; and “Strike to Continue Until Authorities Fire M. Brummitt,” Philippines Herald, February 19, 1930, 1. “Students Refuse to Heed Mayor, Councilors, Bewley,” Philippines Herald, February 20, 1930, 1, 12. John H. McBride, Jr., and Manuel L. Carreon, Letter of Report to Luther Bewley, February 19, 1930, in Jose Gil, Circular Letter to the Secretary of Public Instruction, February 27, 1930, folder – Mabel Brummitt, box 81, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA.

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had warned students on the 20th that if they did not return to school, “drastic action” would be taken against them. After talking with the mayor and city councilors, the students agreed to go back to class, provided that Brummitt would not be there.86 The students were also told that those who returned to school would not be penalized for the two days of missed classes.87 The students’ protest, therefore, appeared to be at an end, their primary objective achieved. Everything appeared to go back to normal for the next several days: the North High students were back in class, and the Bureau of Education seemed to be waiting for the attention to fade before making a decision on Brummitt’s status.88 Bewley received permission from the Philippine Civil Service to demand her resignation, and Brummitt accordingly submitted a letter withdrawing from the teaching service on February 27.89 One common thread that runs throughout all students’ protests was certainly at work in the Brummitt protest: American teachers’ and officials’ total failure to understand their Filipino pupils, and to appreciate why personal slights became so controversial, and so political, in the context of colonization. In early 1930, Brummitt’s comments were understood within the context of both the independence movement and the recent racial violence in California. Educational authorities also failed to realize that compliance was not the same as acquiescence. When the students who initially protested against Brummitt’s comments left Carlson’s office, both Carlson and Bordner evidently considered the affair over, not understanding that the students were angry at the way they had been treated. Again, when Bewley scolded the strike leaders and they left his office quietly, he seems to have believed that he had subdued their

86 87 88 89

“Bewley Decides to Replace Miss M. Brummitt; Strike Ends Today,” Philippines Herald, February 21, 1930, 1, 12. “School Strike Comes to End,” Manila Times, February 21, 1930, 1. “Bewley Studying Strike Case Still,” Philippines Herald, February 26, 1930, 3. Gil, letter to Luther Bewley, February 25, 1930; Bewley, letter to Mabel Brummitt, February 26, 1930; and Alejandro Albert, letter to Brummitt, February 27, 1930, in Gil, Circular Letter to the Secretary of Public Instruction, February 27, 1930, folder – Mabel Brummitt, Box 82, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Brummitt was eventually exonerated of the charges against her by the Civil Service Commission, and informed she could be reinstated to the Philippine teaching service. Then living in San Francisco, Brummitt declared she would never go back to the islands. “U.S. Clears Teacher,” Star, July 7, 1931, folder – Mabel Brummitt, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA

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protest, as he agreed with city councilors to let them return to class.90 Both he and the councilors overlooked the mortification and anger the students felt at this dismissal, and the way they connected his treatment of themselves with the oppression of their nation. This failure to appreciate the depth and context of the protest is likely what led Bewley to believe that he could expel some of the students after the strike ended, without causing additional uproar. On February 27, the same day that Brummitt resigned, Bewley expelled four students who were “ringleaders” in the walkout: Charles Douglas, Isaac Puno, Jeremias Pañgan, and Ramon Pascual.91 The four young men went to City Hall to ask for the intervention of the mayor and city councilors in the case. Mayor Earnshaw declared that he could do nothing, and advised them that if they accepted the decision quietly, he would work to see that they were reinstated the next year.92 The City Councilors, however, protested the decision, noting that Bewley had promised that students who returned to class would not be punished, and pledged to take the case to higher authorities.93 The expulsion of the students immediately reignited the student protests. The North High School students threatened another strike unless the four students were reinstated. Bewley refused to reconsider, declaring that his decision was “in accordance with long established rules and regulations of the Bureau with regard to strikes.”94 On February 28, the Manila Times reported that 14,000 students had promised to launch a sympathy strike to protest the expulsion of the four ringleaders. As rumors swirled about a renewed strike, Mayor Earnshaw declared that if there were another strike, he would order the closing of the affected schools. Despite this threat, and the urging of the four expelled students against a renewed strike, student leaders met to discuss plans for a citywide walkout.95 90 91

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“Students Refuse to Heed Mayor, Councilors, Bewley,” Philippines Herald, February 20, 1930, 12. “Ringleaders in Walkout are Expelled,” Manila Times, February 27, 1930, 1; and “Expelled Students Appeal to City Officials and Threaten to Stage New Strike Unless They Are Reinstated by Bewley,” Philippines Herald, February 28, 1930, 10. “Expelled Students Appeal to City Officials and Threaten to Stage New Strike Unless They Are Reinstated by Bewley,” Philippines Herald, February 28, 1930, 10. See also, “Ringleaders in Walkout are Expelled,” Manila Times, February 27, 1930, 1. “Ringleaders in Walkout are Expelled,” Manila Times, February 27, 1930, 1. “Ringleaders in Walkout are Expelled,” Manila Times, February 27, 1930, 1. “Mayor Threatens to Padlock Schools if Students Strike Again,” Philippines Herald, March 1, 1930, 1, 7.

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At this point, the Acting Secretary of Education, Dr. Alejandro Albert, voiced his support of Bewley’s decision, though according to the Manila Times he also “hinted” that the Bureau of Education might reconsider the expulsions.96 By the next day, however, Albert’s tone had stiffened, and he declared that the Bureau of Education would not “countenance any form of insubordination” by the students, and that a reconsideration of the case would lead to “the breakdown of the discipline on which the entire educational system in the islands rests.” Albert concluded that such a breach in discipline would foster “rebellion and even anarchy,” which would not be tolerated.97 On the evening of March 1, 400 students from North High School held a mass meeting, attended by several hundred parents as well as Councilors Herrera and Santos. The students declared their determination to strike on the next Monday, March 3, unless the four expelled students were reinstated. Herrera and Santos also spoke, urging caution and asking the students to remain in class until Tuesday, to give them time to get a decision from the Bureau of Education. In the ensuing discussion, the students were split into two camps: some were content to follow the advice of the councilors, while others spoke forcefully for immediate action.98 Eventually the students agreed to postpone the strike until Bewley and Albert decided the case of the expelled students. If the expulsions were upheld, it was agreed that the city councilors would meet with the parents of the students on March 4, and the parents would decide whether or not to consent to a strike.99 By this point, the student protest had taken on a larger significance for many Filipinos. In an article in the Philippines Herald that same day, Arturo M. Tolentino, the UP student who had written to the paper before, recalled the Artamanoff case. The problem at the root of the protests, Tolentino declared, was the “all-powerful superiority complex of some Americans.” Brummitt had not counted on the “national pride” of the Filipino students, who were willing to risk expulsion to give a “warning to other Americans in the service to keep their mouths shut if they are prejudiced against the people who pay them.” Tolentino celebrated this determination, declaring that the students’ reaction made a “striking

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“To Maintain Discipline at All Cost,” Manila Times, March 2, 1930, 1. “A New Student Walkout Is Called Today,” Manila Times, March 3, 1930, 1. “To Maintain Discipline at All Cost,” Manila Times, March 2, 1930, 1. “Student Strike Called Off Pending Decision of Department,” Philippines Herald, March 2, 1930, 1, 14.

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contrast” from the past.100 By standing up against American bigotry, Tolentino argued that the protestors were defending the dignity of their entire people. Despite the effort of the city councilors to control the strikers, the students were determined to follow their own agenda. On Monday, March 3, 2,500 students of the North High School declared a new strike, refusing to return to school for the afternoon session at 1 p.m.101 By the next day, March 4, the Manila Times reported that 10,000 students were on strike, including representatives from the Manila West and East High Schools, the Trade School, and the School of Commerce. The students met in the afternoon to compose a petition demanding the firing of Mabel Carlson, Luther Bewley, and Alejandro Albert. Along with some parents and members of the Municipal Board, they also held a meeting at the Knox Memorial Church that evening to plan a monster parade to Malacañang Palace, the residence of the Governor General.102 On March 4, the Manila Times reported that the city’s “atmosphere was thrilled all day” by the “agitation” of strikers calling on public school students to join the walkout. During the protests, scuffles broke out at several of the high schools. At Manila West High School, several students were arrested for “breach of the peace,” including Jose Cruz Herrera, who was bailed out by Councilor Herrera along with other West High School students. The police sergeant who arrested the young men was mobbed by other strikers, who apparently threw him to the ground and hit him with clubs and sticks.103 At Manila North High School, there were rumors of attacks on students who were trying to attend classes, and the Philippines Herald reported that police had rushed to the school in response, and had begun escorting non-striking students into and out of the school building. After warning the students, Albert declared the strikers to be in “rebellion,” and expelled from the public schools.104 100 101 102 103 104

Tolentino, “On the Brummitt Case,” Philippines Herald, March 2, 1930, 8. “A New Student Walkout Is Called Today,” Manila Times, March 3, 1930, 1. “10,000 Students, Four High Schools Involved in Strike,” Manila Times, March 4, 1930, 1. “10,000 Students, Four High Schools Involved in Strike,” Manila Times, March 4, 1930, 1. “10,000 Students, Four High Schools Involved in Strike,” Manila Times, March 4, 1930, 1; and “Highest School Authority Declares Striking Students Expelled,” Philippines Herald, March 4, 1930, 1. By this point, the tone of the Philippines Herald had shifted decidedly against the strikers. The paper declared on its front page, “City Reds Take Hand in Inciting Youths as Terrorism Goes On.” “Governor Davis May Be Asked to Intervene in Student Strike,” Philippines Herald, March 5, 1930, 1.

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The uproar continued for several more days, with reports of attacks by protestors on non-striking students and of violent confrontations with policemen.105 This included an account by the Philippines Herald that two thousand strikers had turned up at the Manila South High School, the only secondary school that did not turn out to support the strike, armed with club, sticks, and brass knuckles. Only the presence of a large detail of policemen prevented violence.106 By this point, some parents of the strikers began to participate in the protest. On March 5, 5,000 strikers and parents held a meeting at the Olympic Stadium. The parents at the meeting agreed to stand by their children, though there was disagreement about the role the parents ought to play in the protest. Some argued that the strike was a “student affair” and that it would be “unfair for the parents to butt in and upset everything that their children have already accomplished.” The parents then declared that they were in accord with their children, and adopted a resolution to the Governor General asking for the reinstatement of the four expelled students.107 The next day, a committee of parents met with Governor General Dwight F. Davis, Manuel Quezon, the president of the senate, and Speaker of the House, Sergio Osmeña, and threatened to withdraw their children from the intermediate and primary schools as well if their demands were not met. It was also reported that some parents were going from house to house to persuade other adults to join the protest, delivering “lectures on cooperation, treachery and patriotism.”108

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“Governor Davis May Be Asked to Intervene in Student Strike,” Philippines Herald, March 5, 1930, 1; “Parent Sympathizers of School Strike Threaten to Withdraw Primary Pupils,” Manila Times, March 6, 1930, 1; “Here’s Summary of Developments Of Student Strike,” Philippines Herald, March 6, 1930, 9; “Davis and Quezon’s Counsel Unheeded,” Philippines Herald, March 7, 1930, 1; “Parents Formulate Request to Albert,” Philippines Herald, March 8, 1930, 8; “School Strike Broken, 5,000 Enter Classes,” Manila Times, March 10, 1930, 1. “School Authorities, City Officials, Hit in Stadium Speeches,” Philippines Herald, March 6, 1930, 9. The president of the senior class South High would not join the strike because they did not support launching the second strike, and did not believe that the “national honor” was at stake. “South High’s Stand on the Strike Explained,” Philippines Herald, March 7, 1930, 1. “Parent Sympathizers of School Strike Threaten to Withdraw Primary Pupils,” Manila Times, March 6, 1930, 1. “School Authorities, City Officials, Hit in Stadium Speeches,” Philippines Herald, March 6, 1930, 1, 9. “Parent Sympathizers of School Strike Threaten to Withdraw Primary Pupils,” Manila Times, March 6, 1930, 1.

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While the students benefited from the support of their parents and the Municipal Board, it is clear that they were also concerned that they might be seen as puppets of larger political movements. After being accused of being infiltrated by “Reds,” student leaders declared that they wanted no help from radical labor leaders or communists as the strike was “their business.” After this declaration, the Philippines Herald reported, no more “‘Red’ agitators” were seen at protest zones.109 At a mass meeting on the evening of March 8, moreover, the strikers voted to continue the strike, and decided that a Students’ Supreme Council would direct the movement without influence from others.110 This was likely done in order to combat the charge that the students were being directed by local politicians. The strike continued over the next several days, though the papers began to report that at least some students were returning to class.111 Dissension had also appeared in the rank and file of the student strikers over how to continue on with the protest. The students were in disagreement about a planned march to Malacañang Palace, as well as the role that local politicians were playing in the protest. Groups of students met with different city councilors, as well as Benigno Ramos, a Senate staffer, and advocated different approaches.112 City councilors also began fighting among themselves, accusing each other of being motivated solely by political impulses.113 After the Supreme Council disapproved of the plan by some of the more radical students to march to Malacañang, a group of students broke off and followed Councilor Nueno to the palace to present their petition to Governor General Davis.114 By March 9, the strike had split into four factions, the result of a rift between Councilors Jose Topacio Nueno and Rosauro Almario, as well as disagreements among the students and parents involved in the protest. A third group of students refused to align with either of the city 109 110

111 112 113 114

“School Authorities, City Officials, Hit in Stadium Speeches,” Philippines Herald, March 6, 1930, 9. “G.G. Reiterates Advice Strikers Return to Classes Immediately,” Philippines Herald, March 9, 1930, 2; “Parents Formulate Request to Albert; Strikers in Disagreement,” Philippines Herald, March 8, 1930, 1, 8. “School Strike Loses Ground,” Manila Times, March 7, 1930, 1; “Parents Formulate Request to Albert; Strikers in Disagreement,” Philippines Herald, March 8, 1930, 8. Terami-Wada, “The Sakdal Movement,” 132–3. “G.G. Reiterates Advice Strikers Return to Classes Immediately,” Philippines Herald, March 9, 1930, 2. “G.G. Reiterates Advice Strikers Return to Classes Immediately,” Philippines Herald, March 9, 1930, 2.

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councilors, declaring that they “could settle their own problems,” and would only abide by decisions made by the Supreme Council, made up of delegates of students from the high schools. Finally, a fourth group of students decided to return to school, so as not to lose an entire year’s work.115 The next day, the Manila Times declared that the school strike had been broken, as many students attended classes, and only 3,000 attended a meeting called by the city councilors. The paper reported that almost all of the East High School students, and about half of the North and West High School students, were back in school.116 The strike was definitively finished on March 11, after Bewley ordered the closing of the four city high schools and the School of Commerce for the rest of the year. Students who had attended school between March 3 and 10 would receive their grades based on their work up to that point. Strikers and other absentees would have to petition by March 17 to receive credit for the year, and demonstrate a “valid reason” for their absence.117 After the news got around that the schools had been closed, over 800 parents went to speak to the principals of the high schools, offering excuses for their children’s absences.118 The returning students were issued questionnaires to fill out by March 17, asking why they had been absent, and whether they had been threatened by other protestors. At a meeting of 300 parents, it was decided to advise their children to avoid the use of the word “strike” while filling out the forms, and to answer the question about their absence with the following phrase: “I was absent during the period to uphold the dignity of my race.” The four expelled students could also file applications for their final grades, and if denied, could appeal to the Director of Education. The Students’ Supreme Council passed a resolution accepting the decision of the Bureau of Education in full, though the students also voted to continue the existence of the council as a student organization.119 115 116 117 118 119

“Student Strikers are Split Into 4 Factions; Many Will Return to Classes Tomorrow,” Manila Times, March 9, 1930, 1. “School Strike Broken, 5,000 Enter Classes,” Manila Times, March 10, 1930, 1. “City High Schools Declared Closed,” Philippines Herald, March 11, 1930, 1. “3,000 Former Strikers Seek Re-Admission,” Manila Times, March 11, 1930, 1. “Students Will Explain Absence Due to Desire to Uphold Race Dignity,” Philippines Herald, March 12, 1930, 1, 12. Despite the ringleaders’ expulsion for “insubordination,” Isaac I. Puno later recalled that he and the other three students were eventually allowed to graduate. He also noted that President Quezon praised them, though cautioning them to temper their emotions, and helped them gain employment at large companies in Manila. Damo-Santiago, A Century of Activism, 15–16.

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In evaluating the strike, the city’s newspapers struck dramatically different notes. The Manila Times and Philippines Free Press had uniformly decried the protest, belittling the students’ activism, and depicting the demonstration as entirely due to the political avarice of the city councilors. Both also linked the protest to fears of communism.120 While initially supportive of the strikers, the Philippines Herald began to turn against the strike in its second iteration. Connecting the demonstration to the push for independence, the paper argued that while strikes could be viewed as “purely a school question” in Europe and the United States, in the Philippines the students’ protest had been used by “detractors of the Philippine cause,” to argue against independence and to allege that communism was “fast spreading” in the islands.121 The strike also received a fair amount of attention in American papers. The New York Times published several articles about the protest, and it was mentioned briefly in the Washington Post, Time, and a few local newspapers.122 Some of the articles repeated the assertion that the strike was driven by “Red” propaganda and the Anti-Imperialist League.123 This international attention, and especially the linking of the strike to communism, likely increased the desire of the Bureau of Education to end the protest as quickly as possible, and eroded the support of previously sympathetic sources. While the strikers’ demands focused on the removal of school officials and the reinstatement of strikers, the size and endurance of the 1930 protest highlights the changing climate of activism in the Philippines. Students had become radicalized. Gone was the insistence on gentlemanly conduct. Now the students were willing to use forceful rhetoric and tactics, and even limited violence, to achieve success. Moreover, in the

120

121 122

123

“‘Red’ Pamphlet Adds Fuel to Student Strike,” Manila Times, February 19, 1930, 1; “Fanning the Flames/Soplando Las Llamas,” Philippines Free Press, March 15, 1930, 1; and “Getting the Real Culprits,” Philippines Free Press, March 15, 1930, 30. “Now for Judgment,” Philippines Herald, March 8, 1930, 4. See folder – Mabel Brummitt, box 82, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA; and “Filipino High School Strikes,” Prescott Evening Courier, February 19, 1930, 1; “Philippine High School Students Strike,” The Washington Post, February 20, 1930, 7; and “Strike Spreads: Students Demand Removal of Principal,” Port Arthur News, March 5, 1930, 18. “Manila Students Strike: Said to Have Been Aroused by Anti-Imperialist Propaganda,” New York Times, February 20, 1930, folder – Mabel Brummitt, box 82, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA; and “Philippine School Students Strike,” Washington Post, February 20, 1930, folder – Mabel Brummitt, box 82, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA.

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context of growing calls for independence and anti-Filipino violence in the US, student strikes took on a broader significance, as individual demands for equality and justice became conflated with national demands for selfgovernment. Writing about the strike many years afterward, Teodoro Agoncillo declared that the strike was a sign of the racially-conscious nationalism that had been awakened in the students, noting that if a Filipino teacher had called them savages, they would not have launched a strike.124 The 1930 strike, then, quickly became linked to a wider culture of dissent, as the protesting students, and the parents and politicians who supported them, understood and positioned their activism within the broader context of American–Filipino relations and racial violence. The strike continued to influence national politics for some time. In October 1930, legislators in the House of Representatives began drafting a bill to phase American instructors out of the education system. Several representatives pointed to the trouble caused by American teachers insulting their Filipino students, including protests in Batangas, Cavite, and Laguna, besides the recent upheavals in Manila. In addition, the representatives alleged that while Americans posed as specialists in English and literature, most of them were “mere nobodies.”125 The next year, moreover, the Philippine Senate passed a bill dubbed the “Clarin insult bill,” introduced by Senator Jose Clarin, which made it a crime for teachers in the public schools to “speak disparagingly of the Filipino 124

125

Teodoro Agoncillo, “Student Activism of the 1930s,” Solidarity 10, no. 4 (July-August 1976): 23. Agoncillo’s account is somewhat unreliable, as he conflates the two periods of the strike into one, and claims that he and other students decided to strike almost immediately, leaving out the meeting with Mabel Carlson. In addition, he takes the credit for leadership in the strike, yet his name was not mentioned anywhere in the newspaper accounts. If he was an early leader, then, it appears that he was quickly eclipsed by others who took a more prominent role in the protest. Yet if Agoncillo overstated his own role in the protest, he accurately represents the politically charged atmosphere of Manila in 1930. In addition, it is interesting that Agoncillo wrote his account in 1976, during a period of heightened student protests against the Ferdinand Marcos regime. His account, along with Damo-Santiago’s A Century of Activism, seems to reflect a renewed interest in student protest in the 1930s, in response to the radicalism of the late 1960s and early 1970s. “Solons Urge Elimination of American Teachers to Avoid School Rows,” Philippines Herald, October 13, 1930, folder 3725-A-32, box 512, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. I have not been able to verify whether this bill passed; it seems unlikely, as sixteen new teachers were appointed in 1932. None were appointed after this, though this was as a result of the attempts to pass first the Hare–Hawes–Cutting Act and then the Tydings–McDuffie Act. Howard Eager, Letter to Joseph F. Kennedy, December 23, 1938, folder 470–968 to 970, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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race.” If a complaint were lodged against a teacher, he or she would be immediately suspended.126 The behavior of American teachers toward Filipino pupils, then, had clearly become linked to the relations of the United States and the Philippines, positioning the politics of the schoolhouse at the heart of the push for independence. The strike also became the spark that would eventually ignite an armed uprising against the government. Benigno Ramos, who had been hired by Quezon to be the Director of the Senate Clipping Division, became deeply involved with the high school protests. However, Quezon, as president of the senate, was at the same time negotiating the passage of a gradual independence law and did not wish to alienate the US. When Ramos refused to end his participation, he was forced to resign his position, and shortly afterwards began an anti-Quezon paper, the Sakdal (meaning, “to accuse”). This evolved into a political party and protest movement that eventually launched an abortive coup in 1935. It was the school strike, and Quezon’s reaction to it, that convinced Ramos that the political elites were not really dedicated to immediate independence.127 Manila, and especially the University of the Philippines, continued to be a center of student protest throughout the decade. Shortly after the high school strike, an Australian professor at UP was forced to resign because he claimed that 90 percent of the university students cheated in examinations. UP students also protested a bill sponsored by Manuel Quezon that would have provided lump sum payments for expenses to legislators. These protests, led by Wenceslao Q. Vinzons, grew into a wider New Youth Movement by early 1933, with its own paper, the Philippine Intercollegiate Press, and political party, the “Young Philippines.”128 The paper promoted student activism, nationalism, and 126

127 128

“Curbs Filipino Teachers,” New York Times, September 8, 1931, folder 3140–133, box 476, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. The American Chamber of Commerce Journal noted in November of 1930 that the bill had passed the Legislature. It seems likely, however, that the bill was vetoed by the Governor General. I have not found any evidence that the bill became law, and about a third of the bills passed on the last day of the legislative session were vetoed. See “Legislature Closes,” The American Chamber of Commerce Journal 10, no. 11 (November 1930): 17; and Annual Report of the Governor General of the Philippine Islands 1930 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1932), 2–5. Terami-Wada, Sakdalistas’ Struggle for Philippine Independence, 1930–1945, 15–16. Agoncillo, “Student Activism of the 1930s,” 24–5; and Vinzons, “A Brief History of the Youth Movement (1868–1934),” 24. Another youth party, the “Real Youth Party” was apparently at odds with the “Young Philippines.” See Vinzons, “A Brief History of the Youth Movement (1868–1934),” 24; and “Prostituting the Youth Movement,” Philippine Intercollegiate Press 2, no. 1 (January 1934): 14.

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pan-Malay unity. In an advertisement, it declared, “Youth is in revolt – against the old tyranny of thought” in politics, religion, literature, and philosophy.129 Even as administrators like Rafael Palma and Jorge Bocobo were encouraging students to become involved in nationalist agitation, they attempted to control student behavior within the university. In 1928, Palma delivered an address called “The Revolt of the Youth,” in which he discussed the common perception that modern youth were more unruly and rebellious than previous generations. Palma declared that it was a good thing that the youth would not “submit themselves to the restrictions and hindrances of the past,” but were attempting to create a future in line with their own ideas and experiences.130 Yet Palma was not so welcoming of students attempting to shape their own future when it meant protesting decisions made by the university administration. Only the previous year, Palma had been drawn into conflict on the UP Los Baños campus over the selection of a new dean for the College of Agriculture. During clashes between the students and Dean Bienvenido Gonzalez, Rafael Palma made repeated trips to Los Baños to meet with professors and students. Palma sided with Gonzalez, dismissing the teachers’ complaints and telling the students that he did not consider it “their business” to express an opinion on the appointment of the head of the college.131 Palma also faced student protests at the main UP campus during this period. In September of 1929, UP students demanded the right to manage

129

130

131

“Intercollegiate Press Advertisement,” Rizal Province Directory, vol 1, ed. Isayas R. Salonga (Manila: General Printing Press 1934) 69. This call for a pan-Malayan identity was part of a broader movement, as the early 1930s witnessed a flowering of anticolonial and transcolonial internationalisms. See Marc Matera and Susan Kingsley Kent, The Global 1930s: The International Decade (New York, NY: Routledge, 2017). Rafael Palma, “The Revolt of the Youth,” 1, 7, folder – Personal Papers – Speeches and Writings, box 5, Rafaela Palma Papers [hereafter Palma Papers], University Library, University of the Philippines Diliman, Quezon City. “Events Leading to the College of Agriculture Imbroglio,” folder – UPCA Office of the Dean – Appointment and Gonzalez Comments on his appointment as Dean, box 28, Bienvenido Gonzalez Papers [hereafter Gonzalez Papers], University Library, University of the Philippines Diliman, Quezon City; Jose F. Zamora, “Report on the Los Baños Affair, College of Agriculture for the Members of the Board of Regents of The University of the Philippines,” folder – UPCA Office of the Dean – Appointment and Gonzalez Comments on his appointment as Dean, box 28, Gonzalez Papers; and Rafael Palma, “Confidential Memorandum for the Board of Regents,” October 4, 1928, folder – UPCA Office of the Dean – Appointment and Gonzalez Comments on his appointment as Dean, box 28, Gonzalez Papers.

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the Student Council and the Philippine Collegian without restrictions from the University Council or faculty supervision.132 Responding to the protestors, Palma declared that the students’ demands were “not only uncalled for but unwise” and that their demonstration indicated “poor judgment and bad taste.”133 In both protests, UP students were demanding the right to voice their opinions about campus issues without restraint or oversight. While Palma had demonstrated that he was willing to support students agitating for independence, he attempted to limit student expression on university issues, believing that it was possible to separate nationalist and university politics. The largest source of protest during this period was the controversy surround the Hare–Hawes–Cutting Bill that was to establish greater autonomy in Philippine governance as well as a path to full sovereignty. The University of the Philippines, much like the nation itself, was split over the bill. Nationally, Sergio Osmeña and Manuel Roxas led the “pros,” while Manuel Quezon headed the “antis.” At UP, Maximo Kalaw, Dean of Liberal Arts, and President Rafael Palma represented the “pro” positions, while Jorge Bocobo, Dean of the Law School, sided with the “anti” camp. Both sides attempted to enlist the support of the students in the political conflict, and they participated enthusiastically in the demonstrations for and against the bill. Ultimately, Palma was forced to resign because of his open stance in favor of Hare–Hawes–Cutting and against Quezon.134 Hare–Hawes–Cutting was voted down eventually, and Quezon headed a second mission to the United States, which resulted in the Tydings–McDuffie Act, which was passed and signed into law in March 1934, creating the Commonwealth of the Philippines and establishing a timeline for full independence. Jorge Bocobo, the Dean of the College of Law, also attempted to restrict political speech on the UP campus. In September 1933, the Philippine Intercollegiate Press declared that while the year before

132

133 134

Damo-Santiago, A Century of Activism, 10. This was likely in response to university attempts to regulate the content of the paper. Rules and Regulations and Courtesy Appeals (Manila: University of the Philippines Press, 1938), 13–16, box 29, Bocobo Papers. Damo-Santiago, A Century of Activism, 10–11. Agoncillo, “Student Activism of the 1930s,” 26; and Damo-Santiago, A Century of Activism, 24–6. See also E. B. Copeland’s anticipation that Palma would be forced out as a result of his support for the Hare–Hawes–Cutting Bill in E. B. Copeland, Letter to Bienvendio Gonzalez, August 18, 1933, Incoming Letters C folder, box 3, Bienvendio Gonzalez Papers.

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Bocobo had “pleaded passionately for student participation in national affairs,” he was then engaged in a campaign to suppress public criticism of Quezon and support for the Hare–Hawes–Cutting Bill. The article alleged that Bocobo had suspended two law students for public statements criticizing the university and supporting the bill, and had threatened the editor of the Philippine Collegian, also a law student, with similar action.135 After Palma’s resignation, the university administration continued to try to restrict student protest on campus. Fernando Calderon, the Acting President for the first half of 1934, decried the influence of politics on the university in his annual report. During his time as Acting President, moreover, he attempted to restrict “pernicious partisan bickerings” from student forums and regulated the activities of the Philippine Collegian, to prevent it from espousing partisan political beliefs and operating as and “organ of a student political group.” Calderon noted in a press release that this was in line with a 1933 Board of Regents resolution that, in line with regulations adopted in 1912, “no student paper or publication shall take any stand on any partisan or religious question which may be the subject of controversy between political parties or religious sects.”136 University officials, then, utilized regulations put in place by American officials to limit nationalist agitation for independence, in order to tamp down on students’ political activities during the debate over the commonwealth bill. Palma and Bocobo, while members of different political factions, were both happy to promote student activism when it was directed against the colonial government and calling for immediate independence. Once it began to spill into campus life, and to target university policies, however, they attempted to limit and restrict allowed student speech and behavior. Despite these efforts, students continued to engage in political debates. The furor over the Hare–Hawes–Cutting bill was in many ways the moment when the student movement shifted its focus from the relationship of the Philippines to the United States (though independence was always a primary goal) to domestic politics in the islands and to criticism of the Quezon faction. In an editorial published on January 21, 1933, Vinzons declared that the “battleground has shifted across the Pacific,”

135 136

“The Gloomy Dean Versus the Youth,” Philippine Intercollegiate Press 1, no. 13 (September 20, 1933): 5, 44. Report of Dr. Fernando Calderon, Acting President, University of the Philippines, Covering the Period from January 1, 1934, to August 31, 1934 (Manila: University of the Philippines Press, 1934), 22–4, folder F/5, box 1, Gonzalez Papers.

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and the “independence struggle will hereafter be fought not on American soil but in Philippine territory.”137

 The ideological importance of education in American empire in many ways contained within its framework the seeds of the destruction of colonial power. Part of the functioning of colonial education was the constant promise and withholding of recognition of Filipino capacity for independence. By using the rhetoric and logic of colonial education, Filipino students were able to turn this dynamic on its head. This meant that Filipino teachers and students could use the rhetoric of the colonial state to articulate their own understandings of the colonial relationship as well as demands for dignity, respect, and autonomy. While the Bureau of Education continued to push back against this activism, and particularly strikes, the political context of the colonial state enabled students to win some significant victories. Even as they faced suspension and expulsion, students were able to restrict what Americans were able to do, and say, about Filipinos and Philippine independence, and to demand at least outward respect from teachers in the public schools. Filipinos who chose to remove themselves physically from the locus of American power were, in essence, attempting to renegotiate the colonial relationship. Within the context of broadening calls for independence, moreover, student protests took on new meaning. Struggles over the schoolhouse, and the power dynamic between teachers and students, reflected similar struggles over the future of the Philippines. More than this, these struggles also shaped the political battles taking place on the national stage. Filipino politicians and activists seized on education and the schools as a tool to criticize the colonial relationship and to demand independence, bringing an additional political urgency to student protests. Imbued with significance by students, teachers, the community, and the colonial state, the politics of the schoolhouse took on meaning beyond colonial education.

137

Vinzons, “Floundering on the Independence Question,” Philippine Intercollegiate Press 1, no. 2 (January 21, 1933): 7.

Epilogue

In the summer and fall of 2001, the Government of the Philippines and the US Embassy in Manila celebrated the centennial of the Thomasites’ arrival. The festivities included public programs, an academic conference, and the staging of a piece written by Tony Perez, “One Hundred Songs of Mary Helen Fee.” The play, primarily a monologue with interjections by a chorus, presents Fee’s narrative of her experiences in the early years of American education. On the surface, the script presents a straightforward and laudatory account of the American teachers as motivated by a desire to do good among a foreign people. Fee declares that she came “out of love,” and remembers the American teachers who gave their lives for the pedagogical mission. At moments, however, the play invites its audience to question this triumphalist narrative. In the midst of a speech criticizing Filipino ability and pride, taken almost verbatim from Fee’s memoir, the actress pauses and asks, “Oh yes, we all came out of love, didn’t we?”1 In this way, Perez presents an ambivalent story that walks the line between affection and resentment, gratitude and chagrin. This reflects the reality of American education in the Philippines, which was a complex mixture of opportunities provided and coercion in the face of resistance. This is why the legacy of colonial education is so ambivalent and complex: it undeniably provided limited benefits to individuals and to the Philippines as a whole; at the same time, it was inseparable from the violence inherent in empire, and often did as much to perpetuate as to alleviate inequality. Confronted with the question of whether American

1

Tony Perez, “One Hundred Songs of Mary Helen Fee,” private collection of Tony Perez.

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education in the islands was a success or failure, was benevolent or coercive, the only full answer is yes on all fronts. What is clear is that Americans and Filipinos at all levels of the educational bureaucracy had a variety of goals beyond (and at times in conflict with) the success of the educational project. American teachers sought and accepted positions within empire in order to pursue opportunities for financial and professional gain. In addition, they used their position as Americans, as well as their gender, racial, and class identities, to present themselves as colonial adventurers and experts. Teachers’ expectations regarding their role at times contradicted the discourse of benevolent uplift articulated by both the US and colonial government. The participation of white women and black men and women in empire, moreover, disrupted the narratives of white masculinity that suffused colonial discourse, as these teachers used their positions to assert their fitness to be agents of civilization and Americanization. Even as teachers altered and challenged the expectations of the colonial state, they were forced to confront the realities of colonization on the ground, including, in the early years, a context of ongoing warfare as well as an unfamiliar racial hierarchy. Moreover, despite their ability to enact some of their colonial fantasies, teachers soon discovered that many Filipinos were not disposed to play obedient Fridays to their Robinson Crusoes. Rather, Filipino students, teachers, and members of the community pushed back against American teachers’ visions of colonial power, articulating their own understandings of the colonial relationship and demanding respectful treatment and recognition of capacity and equality. The schoolhouse was an important site, therefore, of colonial negotiation and contestation. Struggles between students and teachers can be understood as micro-contests over colonization; they not only mirrored the battles occurring on the national political stage, but also shaped the tenor and terms of those battles. The politics of the schoolhouse influenced national politics as both a symbol of the colonial state and as a primary locus of imperial power. Colonial education was a crucial justification for American empire. Meant to demonstrate the benevolence of the American “mission” in the Philippines, the colonial government argued that education would fully civilize Filipinos, preparing them for eventual independence. At the same time, there ran parallel to this claim the belief that education and Americanization, successfully implemented, would put an end to the push for independence. The undercurrent to much colonial discourse was the idea that if the US and its agents correctly applied colonial suasion and uplift, Filipinos would appreciate the advantages provided by empire

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enough to abandon a desire for autonomy. This belief, of course, was hopelessly wrongheaded, and failed to recognize that Filipinos could appreciate the opportunities provided by empire and simultaneously strive for national sovereignty. What resulted, then, was a system of colonial education and a colonial state that seemed riven by contradictions, including schools that purported to prepare Filipinos for sovereignty while denying their capacity to exercise it, and Filipino students eager to avail themselves of educational opportunities while also protesting what they saw as evidence of a bigoted and unjust system of instruction.

        The experience of American colonial education would continue to reverberate in the Philippines, the United States, and in other areas of American imperial influence for decades to come. American teachers were drawn to the Philippines in order to take advantage of opportunities that were unavailable at home. The colonial period, however, was a slow process of the colonial government scaling back the number of American teachers, and many teachers deciding that the islands were no longer the frontier of opportunity that they had envisioned. Yet even as the teachers found themselves pushed out of the Philippines, they were able to use their experiences there to move to other sites of US empire and imperial influence. For some teachers, then, leaving the Philippines was not the end of their sojourn, as they moved to implement colonial education in new locales. This transcolonial migration created a global network of pedagogues, linked by their common experience in the Philippines. Several of the American teachers were able to parley their experience in the Philippines into positions in sites of domestic colonization – the Indian schools. Nina and Perry Sargent, who had worked in Indian schools in Montana before 1901, went back to the Indian schools (this time, in New Mexico) upon their return in 1903.2 John D. DeHuff, after his salary was lowered by 500 dollars, resigned his position to accept a teaching position at the Carlisle Indian School.3 DeHuff eventually transferred to an Indian 2

3

Louis D. Baun, letter to Mother, February 8, 1903, in Serving America’s First Peace Corps: Letters of Louis D. Baun, Written en route to; and from the Philippines, September 12, 1901 – March 30, 1903, ed. A. Ruth Sayer (Wakefield: A. Ruth Sayer, 1971), 65 John D. DeHuff, letter to Frank Crone, May 21, 1914, scrapbook 2, box 2, Elizabeth Willis DeHuff Papers [hereafter Willis DeHuff Papers], Center for Southwest Research,

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school in Santa Fe, where his wife, Elizabeth Willis DeHuff, became famous as a writer of Native American stories. Just as experience in Indian schools had been seen as appropriate preparation for teaching Filipinos, time spent in the Philippine teaching service was understood to be adequate training for the tuition of Native Americans. There were also opportunities for teachers from the Philippines further afield. David Barrows noted that there seemed to be “a great movement on foot now in South American countries to modernize their educational systems, and the country which is undoubtedly to have the greatest influence upon them is the United States.” Barrows was “greatly impressed,” he continued, that the work in which the United States was engaged, of bringing “a backward people up to the front of civilization” was not “not an isolated phenomenon,” but “going on all over the world,” and declared his faith that America could “lead the way” in this movement.4 As part of this reformation, Harry Erwin Bard, a former teacher in the Philippines, was hired in 1909 as the Superintendent of Primary Instruction in Peru, where he served for several years.5 Bard returned to Peru in 1920 as the head of an educational mission, and brought several other former Thomasites with him, including Glenn A. Caulkins, the former Superintendent for Mindanao and Sulu, and Frank L. Crone, the Director of Education of the Philippines. Indeed, he explicitly reached out to American teachers in the Philippines as potential recruits, viewing them as having the necessary experience to reform Peruvian education.6 Peru was not the only country where former Thomasites found opportunities. George T. Shoens, the soldier-turned-teacher who rose to become the Division Superintendent for Camarines Province, became an

4

5

6

University of New Mexico, Albuquerque; and “John D. DeHuff Resigns in States,” Manila Daily Bulletin, May 23, 1914, scrapbook 2, box 2, Willis DeHuff Papers. David P. Barrows, letter to Casper Wistar Hudgson, May 14, 1909, folder 11, box 1, David Prescott Barrows Papers [hereafter Barrows Papers], Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. Barrows, letter to Hudgson, May 14, 1909, folder 11, Box 1, Barrows Papers; and William A. Moore, letter to Francis Burton Harrison, September 11, 1913, “Harry Erwin Bard,” box 45, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, National Archives and Records Administration [hereafter NARA], College Park, Maryland. Folder 18774–5, box 914, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. See also “Glenn A. Caulkins,” box 108, and “Frank L. Crone,” box 137, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. It does not appear that Bard was much of a success, and was replaced by 1922. See “Changes in the American Educational Mission of Peru,” School and Society 15, no. 384 (May 6, 1922): 503.

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educational adviser for the Ministry of Public Instruction of Nicaragua.7 Teachers’ experience in the Philippines was crucial to this movement abroad. Participation in colonial education there established their credentials for educational reform in other countries. Equally important, men like Bard and Crone looked to the Philippines to fill the ranks of these new educational missions. American teachers in the Philippines, then, became part of an imperial network that stretched across the globe. Like white Americans, black Americans were aware of the expanding imperial sphere, and cognizant of the potential opportunities it offered. John H. M. Butler attempted several times to advance professionally by moving to other sites of American influence. In 1909, he wrote to David Barrows for help in securing a position in Liberia.8 In 1916, he enlisted the help of W. W. Marquardt to recommend him for “any position which may be created in case school work in the Danish possessions is undertaken by the government.”9 Finally, in 1921, Butler got Frank W. Carpenter, the former Governor of the Moro Province, to recommend him to head public instruction in Haiti. Carpenter declared that many of the best teachers working in his province had been trained in schools under Butler’s supervision.10 Butler was a man of “excellent presence,” he continued, who commanded “the respect of his Caucasian associates,” and who was fitted for the “direction of public schools in any country in which the mass of the people are of African descent, in the certainty that he would develop their best potentialities of citizenship and good qualities.”11 McIntyre responded that he would be happy to recommend Butler if the US undertook educational work in Haiti, but that at present schools were conducted largely by French missionaries and in French.12 While Butler did not succeed at finding a position in any of these 7

8 9

10 11 12

Note, “E. Joe Albertson,” box 13, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. See also George T. Shoens, Report on the Public School System (Managua: Tip. Alemana de C. Heuberger, 1920). John H. M. Butler, letter to Barrows, September 14, 1909, folder 7843, box 509, Classified Files, 1898–1913, RG 350, NARA. Walter W. Marquardt, letter to Frank McIntyre, September 13, 1916, box 88, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Butler was referring to the Danish West Indies, which became the US Virgin Islands. McIntyre, letter to Marquardt, October 23, 1916, “John H.M. Butler,” box 88, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. In 1914 the Moro Province was renamed the Department of Mindanao and Sulu. F. W. Carpenter, letter to McIntyre, June 17, 1921, “John H.M. Butler,” box 88, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. McIntyre, letter to Carpenter, July 26, 1921, “John H.M. Butler,” box 88, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Theophilus Bolden Steward, another son of Theophilus G. Steward, wrote to the Bureau of Insular Affairs (BIA) in 1916 asking about

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places, he was aware of the opportunities that the expansion of American power and influence presented, and ready to take advantage of them if possible. Rather than seeking their fortunes abroad, some black teachers turned to the struggle for opportunities and rights at home. For at least two of the black teachers in the Philippines, Carter G. Woodson and Fred D. Bonner, the fight for civil rights became central to the rest of their lives. While it is likely that both Woodson and Bonner were disposed to fight for African American freedom before they went to the Philippines, while in the islands both men would have experienced treatment that was significantly different from what they could expect in the United States. This is not to say that racism was not prevalent in the Philippines – merely, as I have argued, that as government teachers, Woodson and Bonner were placed in positions of power and influence and had the support of most government officials. Black teachers would have likely experienced a reaction similar to black veterans, who found racial oppression difficult to swallow after fighting for their country. Carter G. Woodson resigned from the teaching service in 1907, going home by way of Asia and Europe, and studying European history for a semester in the University of Paris. In 1908 and 1909, Woodson appeared interested in returning to the Philippines, but the combination of study at Harvard, as well as persistent stomach troubles, prevented him from taking up teaching work in the islands.13 In December of 1911, Woodson again took the teacher examination, noting that he would accept a salary

13

employment opportunities in Haiti. The BIA responded that the State Department was responsible for making those appointments, and that they were transmitting his application there. Assistant to the Chief of BIA, letter to T. B. Steward, March 17, 1916, “Theophilus Bolden Steward,” box 619, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Carter G. Woodson, letter to the Director of Education, June 19, 1908, folder 8898, box 88, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA; Woodson, letter to Chief, Bureau of Insular Affairs, September 30, 1908; 1st Indorsement, November 14, 1908, folder 8898, box 88, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA; Woodson, letter to BIA, July 15, 1909, folder 8898, box 88, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA; and C.C. Barnett, letter to BIA, July 15, 1909, folder 8898, box 88, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA. It is possible that Woodson was genuinely ill, although historian Jacqueline Goggin has noted that, at the same time that he was preparing to leave for the Philippines, Woodson was offered a teaching job in Washington at a comparable salary to what he was offered by the Bureau of Education in the Philippines and which would allow him to finish his Ph.D. at Harvard. Jacqueline Goggin, Carter G. Woodson: A Life in Black History (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1993), 23.

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of $1,800.14 He also wrote to the Director of Education to inquire about reinstatement, but was informed by the Acting Director of Education that there was no assurance that he could be given a position, as an agent had been sent to select teachers for the next year, and that if reinstated, Woodson’s salary would be $1,200 and his assignment “would have to be subject to the needs of the service upon your arrival here.”15 Given such a lukewarm response it is not surprising that Woodson did not return to the Philippines. Instead, he went on to found the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History and The Journal of Negro History, teach at Howard University, and become a passionate and active member of the Washington, DC branch of the newly formed National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). Fred Bonner also became involved in the work of the NAACP after his return to the United States. The Bonners left the Philippines in 1914, after twelve years and three children born in the islands. In 1917 they moved to New Bedford, Massachusetts, where Fred became a public accountant, as well as the president of the Colored Business and Professional Men’s Association of New Bedford.16 From 1938 to 1940, he served as the president of the New Bedford branch of the NAACP.17 The decision of teachers to leave and seek employment at home or abroad was driven not only by the pursuit of individual opportunity, but also by political changes in the United States and the Philippines. The first mass exodus of teachers took place between 1913 and 1916, in the context of a new Democratic administration in Washington, and a new Governor-General in the Philippines who had publicly committed to the goals and process of Filipinization. In 1916, the Jones Act, which created an elected Senate and publicly committed the US to Philippine independence, though with amorphous benchmarks, moved the Philippines along the path to self-government. Only a year later, the US passed another Jones Act, which bestowed American citizenship on the residents of Puerto Rico, thus pulling that island closer into the American

14 15 16

17

“Results of Examination,” December 27, 1911, folder 8898, box 88, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA. Acting Director of Education, letter to Woodson, June 24, 1912, folder 8898, box 88, Classified Files, 1898–1914, RG 350, NARA. Thomas Yenser, ed., Who’s Who in Colored America: A Biographical Dictionary of Notable Living Persons of African Descent in America (3rd edition; Brooklyn: Thomas Yenser, 1932), 43–4. Robert C. Hayden, African-Americans and Cape Verdean-Americans in New Bedford: A History of Community and Achievement (Boston: Select Publications, 1993), 33.

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orbit, at the same time that the Philippines were put on the (albeit slow) road to autonomy. In light of these developments, and concerned that they would be precipitously replaced and aggravated at the political reforms, many teachers, including DeHuff, sought transfer to the Federal Service.18 Mary Helen Fee also retired from the Philippine service during this period, and sought employment at home.19 She was offered a position in the Indian Service at $600 a year, which she turned down, as it was one third of her former salary.20 Yet Fee found that her experiences in the Philippines had not increased her chances at finding a teaching position in American public schools.21 After failing to find a satisfactory position in the United States, Fee accepted a position as a canteen volunteer with the Red Cross in France in August of 1917.22 In January of 1921, after a failed suicide attempt, Fee wrote to General John J. Pershing and asked him for help getting reinstated in the Philippine service in order to be transferred to Federal Service (she was technically too old).23 Pershing’s intercession prompted the BIA to offer her a job in the Philippines for $1,800 a year. However, Fee turned this offer down, declaring that as she had “taken an open stand in antagonism to immediate independence in the Philippines” she felt that her work “would be seriously handicapped by a natural antagonism of the Filipinos themselves to one who openly opposes their racial aspirations.” Instead, Fee requested a position in an Indian school on a remote reservation.24 Eventually, she was given a position in an

18 19 20

21 22 23

24

For lists of Americans who had applied for these transfers, see folders 3237–55 and 3237–78, box 484, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Director of the Civil Service, letter to Disbursing Agent, April 26, 1916, “Mary Helen Fee,” box 193, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Mary H. Fee, letter to General Frank McIntyre, February 5, 1917, “Mary Helen Fee,” box 193, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA; and Fee, letter to McIntyre, February 24, 1917, “Mary Helen Fee,” box 193, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Fee, letter to McIntyre, February 24, 1917, “Mary Helen Fee,” box 193, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Fee, letter to Disbursing Agent, August 20, 1917, “Mary Helen Fee,” box 193, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. “Mary Fee, Writer, Tired of Living, Attempts Suicide,” New York Tribune, July 4, 1920, 7; “Ill From Foreign Service,” Idaho Daily Statesman, July 4, 1920, 8; “Woman Attempts Suicide,” New York Times, July 4, 1920, 8; John J. Pershing, letter to Walcutt, January 11, 1921, “Mary Helen Fee,” box 193, Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Fee, letter to Charles Walcutt, January 20, 1921, “Mary Helen Fee,” Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA.

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Indian school in Salem, Oregon, at $760 per year.25 By June 27, 1923, Fee had transferred to the Volcan Day School outside of San Diego.26 In the early 1930s, in the context of the Great Depression, racial violence targeting Filipinos along the West Coast, and the push for Philippine independence, there was another wave of American resignations and retirements.27 In a partnership of strange bedfellows reminiscent of the early debates over American empire, nativist and anti- imperial politicians joined forces to pass the Tydings–McDuffie Act of 1934, which allowed for the creation of the Commonwealth of the Philippines, and for full independence within ten years.28 This legislation had been in the works since 1932, at which point many American teachers began seeking alternative employment, anticipating a not-too-distant future in which their positions would be filled by Filipinos. There was reason to believe their jobs were not secure, moreover. In April 1932, GovernorGeneral Nicholas Roosevelt recommended canceling the appointment of American teachers for that year, unless their contracts had been signed. After Luther Bewley expressed reluctance to do this, Roosevelt accepted his position.29 Within a few months, however, Bewley asked Roosevelt to notify teachers on leave that beginning January 1, 1933, all American personnel would be on one-year contracts, and that it was probable that there would be “substantial reductions in salary.”30 By 1933, the teacher examinations were suspended, and no more appointments from the US 25

26

27

28

29

30

Charles Walcutt, letter to General John J. Pershing, February 3, 1921, “Mary Helen Fee,” Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA; and Note of Transfer to Indian Service, “Mary Helen Fee,” Personal Name Information Files, RG 350, NARA. Fee, letter to Superintendent C. L. Ellis, June 27, 1923, cited in Irving G. Hendrick, “Federal Policy Affecting the Education of Indians in California, 1849–1934,” History of Education Quarterly 16, no. 2 (Summer 1976): 174. For more on anti-Filipino racial violence in the US, see Linda España-Maram, Creating Masculinity in Los Angeles’s Little Manila: Working-Class Filipinos and Popular Culture, 1920s-1950s (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006). In this context, as Paul Kramer has argued, the road to Philippine independence can be “seen less as an early act of ‘decolonization’ than as the triumph of an exclusionary racial formation over the colonial regime’s inclusionary racial premises.” Paul A. Kramer, The Blood of Government: Race, Empire, the United States, and the Philippines (University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 32. Nicholas Roosevelt, cablegram to the Secretary of War and BIA, April 12, 1932, folder 470–933, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA; Luther Bewley, radiogram to Roosevelt, April 12, 1932, folder 470–933, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA; and Roosevelt, cablegram to the Secretary of War and BIA, April 18, 1932, folder 470–933, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Bewley, cablegram to Roosevelt, August 19, 1932, folder 470–933, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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were made. From 1935, all vacancies were filled through the hiring of Filipinos.31 At this point, American teachers sought the help of the Secretary of War to transition to jobs in the United States, often the Indian Service or other federal dependencies.32 A petition signed by almost a hundred teachers and educational officials requested transfer to schools in Hawaii, Alaska, Guam, Puerto Rico, the Panama Canal Zone, or to the Indian Service. The pedagogues noted that they had been promised job security and “liberal retirement privileges.” However, these expectations were now “jeopardized.” The teachers noted that they did not intend to criticize the Philippine Government, which would not be able to afford the benefits promised them. They anticipated, however, that they might soon be bereft of employment, and without contacts in the US to help them find positions.33 The BIA had notified the Secretary of War, however, that positions in these places were extremely limited, and favored the appointment of native residents. The exception was Puerto Rico, which would be hiring 100 teachers, though not under the civil service.34 In 1937, Gilbert S. Perez, who had signed the petition though he remained on in the Bureau of Education, wrote an article, “The Thomasites in the Philippines,” which lamented the loss of the teachers’ pension fund, declaring it an “amazing piece of neglect and ingratitude” from both the US and the Philippines.35 Within a few years of this, World War II broke out, leading to the disruption of education in the Philippines and the internment of the remaining Americans. After over four years of brutal occupation by the Japanese, the end of the war ushered in a new regime, with the Philippines becoming independent on July 4, 1946. There was much damage to 31

32

33

34 35

Bewley, radiogram to Roosevelt, June 17, 1933, folder 470–933, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA; and Howard Eager, letter to Joseph F. Kennedy, December 23, 1938, folder 470–968, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Roosevelt, radiogram to the Secretary of War, August 27, 1935, folder 470–933, box 91, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. See also folder 3237–88, box 484, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. James A. Miling, Leon C. Grove, and William Wade Head, Petition to the Secretary of War, October 2, 1935, folder 3237–88, box 484, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. This petition was signed by Gilbert S. Perez and Elvessa Stewart, both of whom remained in the employ of the Philippine Commonwealth until after the Second World War. Creed F. Cox, memorandum to the Secretary of War, September 14, 1935, folder 3237–88, box 484, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA. Gilbert S. Perez, “The Thomasites in the Philippines,” School and Society 45, no. 1162 (1937): 446.

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repair. Manila had been virtually decimated, first by the Japanese and then by the Americans. In 1946, Esteban Abada, the new Director of Education, wrote to W. W. Marquardt that the Bureau of Education was confronted with conditions that “bore striking resemblance to those that confronted the American maestros at the turn of the century.” Of the school buildings existing in 1941, Abada reported, about 80 percent had been destroyed, along with school supplies and furniture, and teachers were forced to hold classes in bullet-riddled buildings, tents, or “under the spreading branches of a mango tree.”36 If the teachers had complained about being neglected and forgotten by an ungrateful American government, the experience of the war and the inauguration of Philippine independence witnessed a sea change in the depiction of American educators and colonial education. This had begun during the colonial period, with occasional articles published by and about American teachers, celebrating their devotion and sacrifice, and highlighting those who had remained in the islands.37 After the war, however, and in the context of a burgeoning Cold War, official mythmaking about American teachers and colonial education was steadily ramped up in order to win hearts and minds in the Philippines and throughout the nonaligned world. In a pamphlet that must have been written shortly after World War II, Gilbert S. Perez laid out a glowing tribute to the work of the Thomasites. Perez depicted the American teachers as a devoted “army,” whose achievements, the “greatest contribution which America has made to the Philippines,” were largely unsung. His essay, which drew on some of the oldest tropes surrounding the educational project, including writings in The Log of the Thomas, became the defining narrative for the project of official memory perpetuated by the US and Philippine governments. Under this telling, a benevolent American government set out to uplift a benighted race, aided by the heroic and self-sacrificing labors of an army of American teachers. Only recently, Perez declared, had these “educational pioneers” been officially recognized by the US 36

37

Esteban R. Abada, letter to Marquardt, July 26, 1946, folder 7, box 7, Walter W. Marquardt Papers [hereafter Marquardt Papers], Bentley Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. See, for example, “Early Experiences of the American Teachers,” vol. 2, box 6, Marquardt Papers; “34 of 560 Teachers Brought to Manila on Thomas Still Here,” Manila Daily Bulletin, August 23, 1922, folder 3725-A to (33); and Walter Robb, “American Pioneer Teachers Conquered Philippine Task,” Washington Star, September 23, 1928, folder 3725-A-32, Box 512, Classified Files, 1914–45, RG 350, NARA.

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government, when in 1948 the American ambassador lay a wreath at the American teachers plot in the North Cemetery in Manila.38 The United States never undertook another colonial education project as large as that implemented in the Philippines. Even at the height of American empire, the country was already beginning to shift away from formal possessions, having learned what complex and controversial ventures colonies could be. Colonial education in the Philippines had not produced a grateful and compliant colonial population, happy to remain under the American flag. Yet the teachers would be officially remembered and memorialized again and again in the next several decades. Throughout the 1950s, especially, as tensions with the Soviet Union and China rose, and amidst the golden jubilee of the arrival of the Thomasites, the American teachers were depicted as the progressive-era predecessors to Cold War programs aimed at winning hearts and minds in the Philippines and throughout the developing world. During this period, there were increasing calls for a corps of well-intentioned Americans to be sent abroad to engage in development projects and to act as goodwill emissaries.39 In 1961, this call was answered, as the first Peace Corps volunteers arrived in the Philippines. Just as former American teachers sought out new positions in American empire, the US government sought to send new cultural diplomats to spread the message of American “benevolence” across the globe. Filipinos quickly drew links between the old and new goodwill emissaries. The first group of volunteers was met at the Manila Airport by a banner welcoming the “New Thomasites.” However, many of the new recruits rejected this comparison, seeing themselves as starkly

38

39

Gilbert S. Perez, From the Transport Thomas to Sto. Tomas: The History of the American Teachers in the Philippines (Manila: n.p.), American Historical Collection, Rizal Library, Ateneo de Manila, Quezon City. This appears to have been published by the Philippine Government, probably in 1949, though no publication information is given. It must be before 1953, because Perez is listed as the head of Industrial Education. The first part of the pamphlet is taken from his essay, “An Educational Argosy,” the publication information of which is also unclear. Gilbert S. Perez, “An Educational Argosy,” in The Treasures of Dr. Gilbert S. Perez, ed. Bayani I. Gutierrez (Manila: TUP Press, 1980), pp. VII, 114–22. See, for example, Eugene Burdick and William J. Lederer, The Ugly American (1958; New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1999), 150; and Albert Ravenholt, “Miss Stewart – ‘Our Teacher!’” August 8, 1958, South Asia Series 6, no. 6 (New York: American Universities Field Staff, 1958). See also Jonathan Zimmerman, Innocents Abroad: American Teachers in the American Century (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009), 198–9.

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different from their colonial predecessors, more respectful of different cultures and beliefs.40 It is not surprising that Filipinos would see a clear connection between the two generations of pedagogues. Indeed, the formation and organization of the Peace Corps was influenced by a former Thomasite, John S. Noffsinger, who taught in the Philippines from 1909 to 1912, and was a senior counselor in the Office of Public Affairs of the Peace Corps from 1961 until his death in 1966.41 In addition, the Progressive Era and the Cold War shared some key traits: faith in the ability of the United States to shape the world in their own image, and in the potential for individuals, especially vigorous and idealistic youths, to serve as effective cultural emissaries, spreading the word of and converting followers to the creed of Americanism. Finally, in both eras the US government combined civilian goodwill missions with a strong military presence to suppress perceived anti-American movements. The legacy of the Thomasites, as the Peace Corps demonstrates, stretched far beyond the American colonial period, as the tremors of colonial education rippled outwards back to the United States and across the globe. The Peace Corps, and other efforts at cultural and social diplomacy, attempted to learn from the mistakes of the Thomasites. The lesson that was learned, however, was that the American colonial state and its agents had not always successfully implemented the policies of suasion and attraction. Yet government officials and individual volunteers did not question the fundamental assumptions of these policies, maintaining the faith that it was possible to persuade countries to fall in line with American values and prerogatives. Indeed, despite attempts to update and modernize its approach, public education in the Philippines remained a model for programs like the Peace Corps. The use of education and educators in the service of foreign-policy goals and Americanization remained central to US diplomatic efforts abroad. The idea that projects of uplift imposed from outside were often doomed to falling short of their

40

41

Zimmerman, “Educating the Globe: America’s Overseas Teachers and the Dilemmas of ‘Culture’,” Education Week 26, no. 7 (October 11, 2006), accessed March 15, 2013, www.edweek.org/ew/articles/2006/10/11/07zimmerman.h26.html. See also Zimmerman, Innocents Abroad, 4. Zimmerman, Innocents Abroad, 201; and Paul A. Rodell, “John S. Noffsinger and the Global Impact of the Thomasite Experience,” in Back to the Future: Perspectives on the Thomasite Legacy to Philippine Education, ed. Corazon D. Villareal (Manila: American Studies Association of the Philippines in cooperation with the Cultural Affairs Office, US Embassy, 2003), 31–41.

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objectives was not considered. Also not part of the new discussion was the notion that Filipinos, and other people in the developing world, could admire American culture, desire American consumer goods, respect and like individual Americans, and not necessarily adopt American foreignpolicy goals and perspectives. Even as the Peace Corps volunteers were spreading out across the Philippines, Renato Constantino published “The Mis-Education of the Filipino” in a book of essays, becoming the face of nationalist scholarship that saw the history of American influence in the islands as coercive and destructive, and American education as a tool of empire.42 Thus the legacy of American education continues to be a highly ambivalent one, with Americans and Filipinos both celebrating and vilifying its aims, practice, and outcomes. Despite this, the idea that the US could remake the world in its own image has continued to resurface throughout the late twentieth century and into the new millennium. Reflecting on the legacy of American empire many years after his departure from the islands, John DeHuff mused, “if the advent of the United States into affairs oriental has brought sweeping changes in the Philippines, what shall we say of the effect in the contrary direction?” One of the primary changes, he claimed, was that America’s colonization of the islands had “taken more of our people into foreign parts for a considerable stay than anything that ever happened before, or since, or both together.”43 This movement of Americans into, away from, and through empire has had long reaching effects on the histories of both nations.

42 43

Renato Constantino, “The Mis-Education of the Filipino,” in The Filipinos in the Philippines: And Other Essays (Quezon City: Filipino Signatures, 1966), 39–65. DeHuff, “Memories of Orient Seas,” 410, Willis DeHuff Papers. DeHuff might well have added the movement of Filipinos to the United States as part of this great change.

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Index

“Race of color”, 167–9 Atkinson, Fred, 16, 41, 45, 91, 176; Hiring of teachers, 29, 31, 59, 75; On the appointment of black teachers, 76–7, 103; On the appointment of women teachers, 63; Views on industrial education, 17, 189–90 “One Hundred Songs of Mary Helen Fee” (Perez), 290 Acebedo, Emigdio, 226–8 Acebedo, Nicanor, 226, 229 Act 74, 16, 29–31 African Americans, 10–12, 38; Articulating the notion of a “race of color”, 135, 167–9; Claiming American identity, 98–100; Comparison of Filipinos to, 38–40; Debate over the participation in empire of, 52, 74–80, 166–7; Depiction of themselves as brave and strenuous, 105, 124–5; Depiction of themselves as effective teachers, 103–4, 125–8; Depiction of themselves as the best colonizers, 88, 100–3, 135; Discrimination against, 157–60; Education of, 16–17; Employment of, 33–4; Filipino attitudes toward, 162–5; Opportunities in empire for, 97–8, 103, 294–5; Presence as disrupting narratives of white supremacy, 134 African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, 43, 47, 76

Aglipayano movement, 233 Agoncillo, Teodoro, 284 Aguinaldo, Emilio, 13–14, 167, 204 Alaminos, 100, 127, 163 Alaska, 18, 299 Albert, Alejandro, 73, 278–80 Altiveros, Josefina, 205 Americanization, 4–5, 17, 37, 84, 175, 181, 183, 206, 209–10, 214, 241, 291, 302; African Americans as best agents of, 88, 128; African Americans as the best agents of. See African Americans; Pensionado program and, 202–3, See Pensionados; Socializing and, 229–35, See Socializing Anglo-Saxonism. See Whiteness, See Whiteness Armstrong, Samuel Chapman, 18 Artamanoff, Jessie Downing, 270–1 Assimilation, 16, 169, 175, See Americanization Association for the Study of Negro Life and History, 34, 296 Athletics, 183–6 Atkinson: Views on industrial education, 17 Bagobo, 96–7 Baguio Teachers’ Camp, 160–1 Balangiga, 114, 218, 226, 228 Bard, Harry Erwin, 293–4

321

322

Index

Barrows, David P., 77, 81, 136–7, 206, 223, 293–4; Conflict with Civil Service, 66–9, See Civil Service Board; Defining teacher fitness, 50, 59, 63, 67, 77–8, 86; School strikes and, 256–8; Views on education, 17–18, 190–2 Bartlett, Murray, 266 Baun, Louis D., 149, 186, 237 Beattie, G. W., 223–4 Benedict, Laura Watson, 96–7, 116 Benevolence, colonial rhetoric of, 2, 7, 16, 47, 50, 54, 62, 213, 291, 300–1 Benitez, Francisca Tirona, 205 Benitez, Paz Marquez, 205 Benton, Guy Potter, 270 Bess Priestley, 42 Bewley, Luther, 79, 83, 298; On the hiring of female teachers, 70–4; School strikes and, 275–82 Biao, Emilio Asensi, 226–7 Biao, Mrs., 240 Blackness, changing notions of, 10–12, 135, 157–71 Bocobo, Jorge, 209, 254–5; Patriotism and, 206; Student politics and, 286–8; Students politics and, 252 Bonifacio, Andrés, 12, 204 Bonner, Charlotte Stokes, 76, 79–80, 104, 193 Bonner, Frederick Douglass, 76, 79–80, 103, 147, 166, 295–6 Bordner, Harvey A., 70, 273–4, 276 Brigandage Act, 14, 110 Briggs, George N., 61, 109–10, 222 Brummitt, Mabel, 74, 273–8 Bryan, Elmer B., 44, 47, 77 Bryan, William Jennings, 254 Buck, Hammond H., 151, 262–4 Buck, W.A., 149 Buckland, Ralph Kent, 36, 38, 64, 93, 221–2, 240; Depiction of himself as a white explorer, 107, 111–13 Buffalo Pan-American Exposition, 26 Bureau of Education (Bureau of Public Instruction), 20, 31, 40, 42–4, 63, 76, 82, 84, 86, 91–2, 103, 144, 149, 160, 176, 191, 202, 206, 299; Conflict with Civil Service, 57–62; Creation of, 28–9; Criticism of, 30–1, 45, 49, 92; Filipinization of, 206–9; Hiring of teachers and, 51–2, 62–74, 79–80, 101; Industrial education and, 193–4; Instructions to teachers, 47–8, 113,

182, 186, 212, 230, 253, 256; Response to school strikes, 252, 258–65, 273–83 Bureau of Insular Affairs, 32, 51, 62–3, 68, 73–4, 116, 297, 299; Appointment of black teachers, 74–80; Correspondence with Filipino students, 82–4; Mediating conflict between the Bureau of Education and Civil Service, 51, 58–62 Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, 17, 107, 136–7, 190 Butler, John Henry Manning, 43, 47, 76–7, 147, 159–60, 165, 219, 294–5; Articulating the notion of a race of color, 169; Claiming American identity, 99–101; Criticism of racial prejudice, 47–8, 168; Depiction of African Americans as the best colonizers, 48, 100–3, 165, 169–71; Depiction of himself as brave and strenuous, 125; Depiction of himself as effective teacher, 101–27; Socializing with white teachers, 160–2; Travel to the Philippines, 38; Views on Filipino capacity, 199–200 Calangaman, 105 Calderon, Fernando, 288 California: Racial hierarchy in, 130; Racial violence in, 250, 270, 272 Carlisle Indian School, 17, 292 Carlson, Mabel, 273–6, 279 Carpenter, Frank W., 152, 294 Catholic Church: Concern about proselytizing in colonial schools, 30–1; Concern about proselytizing in the colonial schools, 43–4; Conflict with the Aglipayano movement, 233 Caulkins, Glenn A., 293 Cebu, 98, 105, 114, 211, 217 Central School, the, 84–5 Chase, J. Maud, 37 Chinatown (San Francisco), 26–7, 34–6 Chinese diaspora in the Philippines, 132–3 Cholera, 40, 114, 116, 180, 246 Christie, Emerson, 191 Civil Service Board, 51; Admission of women to exams, 66 Civil Service Board (Philippine): Admission of women to exams, 63 Civil Service Board (Philippines), 86; Admission of women to exams, 67–9;

Index Conflict with Bureau of Education, 58–61; Creation of, 53–6; Defining teacher fitness, 57–8; Different classifications of American and Filipino teachers, 56 Civil Service Commission, 51, 53, 58, 60, 86; Admission of women to exams, 66–8, 71; Examinations for teachers, 53, 55 Cole, Harry, 32, 36, 92, 115, 249; Acting as an intermediary between Filipinos and the military, 226–7; Attitude toward Filipinos, 227–31, 238–40; Criticism of Bureau of Education, 42, 91, 93; Fear of violence, 113–14; Treatment of domestic servants, 243–7 Cole, Mary, 32, 36, 91, 217–18; Attitude toward Filipinos, 38–9, 227–8, 238–40; Criticism of Bureau of Education, 92; Treatment of domestic servants, 243–7 Commonwealth of the Philippines, The, 85, 252, 287, 298 Constantino, Renato, 303 Cordillera, 189 Corporal punishment, 254–7, 262–4 Crans, Mary B., 115–16, 196 Crone, Frank, 90, 92, 263–4, 293 Cuba, 8, 12–13, 29–30, 56 Daniels, Bradford K., 44–5 Davis, Dwight F., 280–1 De Tavera, T. H. Pardo, 53 De Veyra, Jesus, 114 DeHuff, Elizabeth Willis, 293 DeHuff, John D., 35, 113, 137–8, 207, 218–19, 231, 248, 292–3, 297, 303; Attitude toward intermarriage, 149–50; Depiction of himself as brave, 110–12; Investigation of school strikes, 258–9 Dewey, George, 13, 27, 40 Dickerson, Mary E., 33 Domesticity, 9–10, 116 Donalson, Anna M., 220 Dorsey, George A., 96–7 DuBois, W. E. B., 101, 168 Dunne, Finley Peter, 34, 129 Early, John C., 106–7 Education, Spanish colonial, 28; American criticism of, 20–1; American erasure of, 21, 107; Influence on American

323

colonial education, 19–20; Reform of, 19 Edwards, Clarence R., 58, 60, 67–8; Appointment of black teachers, 77–8 English language: Filipino attitudes toward the, 200–1, 215, 243; Filipino attitudes towards the, 188; Use of in Philippine schools, 8, 16, 20, 27–30, 45, 189 Epps, R. D., 45–7 Faurote, May, 120 Fee, Mary Helen, 3, 33, 40, 179, 182, 194, 200, 202, 208, 232, 290, 297–8; Depiction of Filipinos as feminine, 197–8; Depiction of single women as the best colonizers, 122–3; Depiction of supervising teaching as masculine position, 65, 124; On teacher appointments, 41; Relations with domestic servants, 243–4, 246–8; View on Filipino capacity, 199; Views on changing notions of gender and femininity, 187–8; Views on Filipinno capacity, 173–4; Views on Filipino capacity, 196–7, 200–2; Views on importance of athletics, 183–6 Femininity: Changing notions of, 187–8; Depiction of Filipinos as feminine, 197–8; Female teachers negotiating ideas of, 9, 118–19; Teachers’ depiction of Filipinas as overly feminine, 118; Teachers’ depictions of Filipinas as overly feminine, 185–6 Fiesta politics, 230 Filipinization, 55, 84, 199, 205, 234, 249, 265, 269; Decline of American teachers and, 71, 79, 206–9, 296 Filipino Teacher, The, 260 First Year Book, The (Fee), 173 Fisher, Herbert D., 35, 64–5, 147; Depiction of himself as racially degenerating and regenerating, 105–6 Fitzbutler Vincent, Myra, 33 Fitzbutler, James H., 33, 159 Forbes, W. Cameron, 159, 186, 207–8, 234, 269; Views on industrial education, 192–3 Fortune, T. Thomas, 163–4, 171 Freer, William B., 108–9, 223, 243

324

Index

Friendships, American and Filipino, 215–16, 235–40 Fugate, James R., 223–4 Funston, Frederick, 46 Gibraltar, 38 Gibson, Josephine Twogood, 161–2 Gómez, Dominador, 205 Gonzalez, Bienvenido, 286 Gray, Clarion C., 180, 184, 186 Guam, 13, 299 Guerilla Warfare, 14–15 Haiti, 294 Hampton Institute, 17–18, 75 Harding, Warren G., 269 Hare–Hawes–Cutting Bill, 287–9 Harrison, Francis Burton, 73, 84, 139, 205, 207–9, 265, 269 Hawaii, 18; Influence on Philippine education, 18–19 Hemenway, Francis, 91, 237 Herrera, Mateo, 275, 278–9 Hong Kong, 12–13 How to Live (Knapp), 96, 180–1 Hunter, Bedford B., 29, 166, 215, 237; Articulating the notion of a “race of color”, 168–9; Challenging local networks of authority, 224–5, 231–2; Contrast of racial prejudice in the US with the Philippines, 160; Depiction of himself as brave and strenuous, 124; Depiction of himself as effective teacher, 125–7; View of opportunities in empire, 98; Views on Filipino capacity, 170, 238 Hygiene and sanitation, teaching of, 180–2 Ide, Henry C., 53 Igorots, 108–9, 123–4; Education of, 189–90 Ilustrados, 12 Independence, Philippine, 7, 205, 207, 209, 269–70, 296, 298–9; African Americans linking freedom struggle to Filipino desire for, 11, 168; American views on Filipino capacity for, 55, 196–202, 209–10, 234–5, 238, 258–9, 297; Colonial education as forestalling demands for, 5, 206, 291; Colonial education as preparing Filipinos for, 7, 291; Filipino agitation for, 12–14, 84,

205, 219, 234, 254–5, 270–2, 287–8; Linking student protests to, 250–1, 253, 257–8, 265–70, 273–4, 278–9, 283–4, 289 Indians. See Native Americans Independence, Philippine: Linking student protests to, 252 Industrial education, 17–19, 101, 124, 141, 168, 175–6, 188–96, 209 Insurrectos, 110, 112–14, 121–2, 126–7, 218, 227, See Ladrones Jessup, Minnie E., 123–4 Jim Crow, 11, 23, 79, 157–8, 167 Jones Act, 84, 209, 234, 252, 265, 268–9, 296 Kalaw, Maximo, 287 Kalaw, Teodoro M., 188 Kalinga, 106 Katipunan, 12–13, 205, 219, 234–5 Kelly, Alice M., 190 Kepner, William Allison, 226 Kindley, George C., 216 Knapp, Adeline, 1–2, 21, 95–7, 180 Kramer, Paul, 62, 230 Ladrones, 14, 110–12, 114, 151 Legarda, Benito, 53 Letye, 46 Lewis-Perez, Angie Florence, 143–6 Leyte, 39, 105, 113–14, 218, 226 Linea, 38 Lisk, Louis H., 150, 233–4 Log of the Thomas, The, 32–3, 95, 300 Lopez, Juliana, 204, 215–16 Luzon, 26, 106, 112–13, 117, 126, 164, 189–90, 251 Luzuriaga, José, 53 MacArthur, Arthur, 15 Malolos Congress, 13 Manila: American community in, 159, 234; Racial prejudice in, 48, 158–9, 162, 164; Teachers’ visions of, 40 Manila School of Arts and Trades, 191, 200 Manila Times, The, 158–9, 265; Depiction of 1930 Manila high school strike, 283; UP students’ protest against, 265–8 Marquardt, Walter W., 20, 35, 81, 98–9, 114, 132, 146, 148, 154–5, 184, 216,

Index 237, 248, 294, 300; Depiction of carrying firearms as cowardly, 112–13; Domestic servants as muchachos, 241–2; Recruitment of teachers, 69–73, 79–80 Marriage: And teacher appointments, 32, 41, 61, 63, 68–9, 73–4; Between Americans and Filipinos, 133, 149–52, 162, 164–5, 237–8; Teacher appointments and, 94 Masculinity, 2, 9; The position of supervising teacher and, 64–5; White female teachers engagement with, 115–24; White female teachers engaging with, 9–10; White male teachers engagement with, 105–15 Maternalism, 9–10, 62, 88 McIntyre, Frank, 68, 78, 294 McKinley, William, 12, 15–16, 30, 43, 53 McKinnon, William D., 27 McVey, William E., 262–4 Mestizaje, 131–3 Missionaries in the Philippines, 162, 232–3 Monroe Commission, 194–6 Monroe, Paul, 195 Montilla, Paz, 124, 237 Moore, Blaine Free, 37, 41, 63, 132, 231, 237, 257; Attitude toward Filipinos, 38, 218; Depiction of carrying firearms as cowardly, 112; Hopes for advancement, 90–2; Warning parents to keep letters private, 45–7 Moro Province, 107, 136, 138; Depicted as a white man’s paradise, 107; Depiction as a white man’s paradise, 137–8 Moros, 136, 139; Education of, 189–91 Moses, Bernard, 41–2, 45, 53, 96, 137, 153, 189, 203 Moses, Edith, 231 Mountain Province, 106–7; Depicted as a white man’s paradise, 107 Mr. Dooley (character), 34, 129 Muchacho. See Servants, domestic; Filipino students resent being called, 242; Referring to domestic servants, 241–2 Mythologizing of American teachers, 1–2, 21, 300–2 Nacionalistas. See Partido Nacionalista National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, 169, 296

325

Native Americans, 12; Comparison of Filipinos to, 39–40; Education of, 16–18, 190, 292–3 Neal, Benajmin E.: Travel to the Philippines, 26 Neal, Benjamin E., 48, 205, 217, 232, 238; Attitude toward firearms, 112–13; Travel to the Philippines, 37, 40 Neurasthenia, tropical, 62 New Youth Movement, 285 Nicaragua, 294 Noble, Delfina, 239 Noffsinger, John S., 302 O’Reilly, P. S., 66 On the Education of the People in India (Trevelyan), 17 Osmeña, Sergio, 280, 287 Otis, Elwell, 15, 28 Overcivilization, 9 Palma, Rafael, 252, 271, 286–7 Palmer, G. M., 43–4 Panama Canal Zone, the, 299 Paradox of empire, 4 Partido Nacionalista, 234, 258 Paxton, Euphemia (Pattie), 41, 120–2, 156–7, 219–21, 231, 235, 247 Peace Corps, 301–3 Pensionados, 71, 202–3; Challenging the civil service distinctions between Americans and Filipinos, 81–2; Marriages with Americans, 154; Nationalism of, 203, 206, 254–5 Perez, Gilbert Somers, 140–7, 299–301 Perez, Tony, 290 Pershing, John J., 297 Peru, 293 Pestalozzi, Johann, 18 Philippine Assembly, 55, 205, 207, 234, 258 Philippine Collegian, 287–8 Philippine Commission, 14–16, 29, 34, 37, 47, 51, 53–5, 62, 96, 152, 204, 209, 234, 265; Conflict with US military, 42 Philippine Intercollegiate Press, 285, 287 Philippine Legislature, 208, 269–70, 284–5 Philippine Revolution, 12–13, 205, 219 Philippine Women’s University, 205

326

Index

Philippine–American War, 14–15, 215–20, 226–8 Philippines: American ignorance about, 34–5; Black community in, 170–1, See African Americans Government of. See Malolos Congress, See Philippine Commission, See Philippine LegislatureHistory of, 204–6, See Philippine–American WarReligion in. See Aglipayano movement Philippines Herald, 270, 278–81, 283 Philippines Weekly, The, 163, 171 Photography, 118–19, 193–4 Price, Stella, 121, 156 Priestley, Bess, 32, 94, 242, 245 Priestley, Herbert, 32, 37, 42, 89, 91–2, 94, 151, 196, 230, 242, 244, 246 Puck, 5 Puerto Rico, 8, 13, 296, 299 Pulahanes, 114, 217 Purcell, Margaret, 33, 35, 95, 115, 117, 121, 151, 177, 187, 235 Quezon, Manuel, 269, 280, 285, 287–9 Racialization: Filipinos challenging, 201; Of Asians by Americans, 26–7, 35–6; Of Filipinos by American teachers, 108–9, 196–200, 238–9; Of Filipinos by the colonial state, 131–2; Of Filipinos by the Spanish, 20; Of Filipinos by the US Army, 14; Teachers’ comparison of Filipinos to other races, 38–40; Teachers’ use of racial epithets to describe Filipinos, 92 Racism and racial issues: African American concern about, 80, 159; Concern about threat to Filipino collaboration and, 158–9; Filipinos challenging, 82–6, 258–9, 270–83; In Manila, 158–60, 162–3; In the provinces, 160; In the US, 11, 79, 130, 272 Ramos, Benigno, 281, 285 Rand, Philinda Parsons, 33, 35–6, 87, 90, 95, 115, 122, 151, 153, 177–80, 212, 221, 225, 230, 235; “Bronzing” Filipino men, 154–5; Depiction of herself as brave and strenuous, 117–21; Relations with domestic servants, 244; Views on Filipino capacity, 186–7, 198–200 Ratcliffe, Jesse Walker, 77, 145, 147 Recognition, politics of, 4

Reconcentrado, 12, 14 Religion, politics of, 30–1, 43–4, 232–4 Reyes, Sofia, 235 Ricarte, Artemio, 270 Rizal Day, 204–5 Rizal, José, 13, 103, 204 Robinson Crusoe, 44, 87 Robinson Crusoe (character), 87 Romulo, Carlos, 266–8 Romulo, Gregorio, 237 Romulo, Maria, 237 Roosevelt, Nicholas, 84, 298 Roosevelt, Theodore, 2, 14, 27, 76, 106, 163, 207 Roxas, Manuel, 287 Sakdalista movement, 285 Saleeby, Najeeb Mitry, 136–40 Samar, 46, 114, 218, 226 Sanitation: American fears about, 228; Teaching of. See Hygiene Sargent, Nina, 37, 292 Sargent, Perry, 37, 292 Schurman Commission. See Philippine Commission Schurman, Jacob Gould, 15 Secret societies, 270 Seidensticker, Lizzette, 115 Self-government. See Independence, Philippine Senate Committee on the Philippines, 46 Servants, domestic, 183, 241–3, See Muchacho; Acts of resistance by, 245–7; As a boon for single women, 122; Reciprocal relations with, 214, 248; Teachers’ demonstration of mastery over, 241, 243–5; Teachers’ depiction of, 108; Teachers’ involvement in the personal lives of, 214, 247–8; Teachers’ voyeurism of, 154–5 Shoens, George T., 215, 220–1, 293 Smallpox, 228 Smith, James F., 61, 66 Smith, Laura Gibson, 154, 161, 234 Socializing: Between African Americans, 170–1; Between African Americans and Filipinos, 102; Between American teachers, 36–8, 90–1; Between American teachers and missionaries, 232–3; Between Americans and Filipinos, 132, 229–35; Between black and white teachers, 160–2 Spain, 12–14

Index Squier, H. G., 63, 90, 92 SS Doric, 36 Star of Zion, 47–8, 102, 158, 165, 170 Starr, Frederick, 17 Staunton, John A., 211–13 Steward, Theophilus Gould, 28, 39, 158, 163, 169; Articulating the notion of a “race of color”, 167–8 Story of the Philippines For Use in the Schools of the Philippine Islands, The (Knapp), 96 Strenuous Life, The, 2 Sullivan, D. P., 37 Suter, Russell, 151 Taft Commission. See Philippine Commission Taft, William Howard, 15, 17, 43–5, 53, 77–8, 234, 238 Talisay, 121 Teachers, Filipino, 19, 29, 38, 56, 126, 151, 176–7, 198, 207, 235, 238, 248; Civil service distinctions regarding, 52, 56, 80–4; Protest and, 254, 260–1 Thibault, L.H., 267–8 Tobera, Fermin, 250, 272 Todd, Albert, 28 Tolentino, Arturo M., 271, 278–9 Torture, 14, 46, 218–19, 226–7 Townsend, Harry S., 37 Trace, Helen, 255–6 Trace, Russell, 203–4, 215–16, 225, 255–6 Treaty of Paris, 13 Trevelyan, Charles E., 17 Tuao, 126, 224–5, 231–2 Turner, E. G., 153 Tuskegee Institute, 17 Tutelage as colonial metaphor, 7, 30, 50 Tydings–McDuffie Act, 287, 298 US Army. See Spanish–American War, See Philippine–American War; Conflict with civilian government, 15, 42, 139; Opening schools, 15–16, 27–9 University of the Philippines, 81, 203, 205, 209, 253, 261, 265–7, 270–2, 285–9 USAT Buford, 33, 36 USAT McClellan, 38, 125 USAT Thomas, 1, 16, 21, 32–3, 36–7, 40, 45, 90, 95, 115 USS Maine, 12

327

Varona, Francisco, 250 Varsity News, The, 266–8 Vijandre, Romualdo A., 263–4 Villamor, Ignacio, 209, 265–9 Vinzons, Wenceslao Q., 285, 288 War Department (US, 31, 75, 78 Washburn, William S., 54–5, 81; Conflict with the Bureau of Education, 58–61, 67–9; Defining teacher fitness, 57, 86 Washington, Booker T., 75, 171 Water Cure. See Torture Watsonville Riot, 250, 272 Weston, E. E., 232 Weyler, Valeriano, 12 White, Frank R., 192, 216; Response to student protests, 258–9, 261–2, 264 Whiteness, changing notions of, 10–11, 131, 133–57 Wilson, Woodrow, 79, 207, 265–6 Wolcott, Oliver George, 87 Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines, A (Fee), 200 Women: African American, 98, 102, 104, 170, See African Americans; Danger of intimacy between white women and Filipino men, 153–7; Debate over participation in empire of, 51–2, 62–74; Depiction of white women as unhealthy in the Philippines, 62–3; Different standards of behavior for, 152–3; Engaging with notions of masculinity, 9; White women as representing benevolence and suasion. See Maternalism, See Benevolence; White women depicting themselves as brave and strenuous, 115–24 Women, African American, 33 Wood, Leonard, 139, 234, 269 Wood-Forbes Commission, 70, 269 Woodson, Carter G., 34, 77, 103–4, 295–6 Woolley, Elisa Feced, 151 Worcester, Dean C., 53, 226 World War I, 69–71, 147, 265, 269 World War II, 299–300 Wright, Luke E., 53