Hello everyone,
For my presentation on Tuesday, we will be looking at photographs collected by Frank L. Crone while he worked under the Philippine Bureau of Education from 1909-1915. The materials from the Crone mss are available at the reading room-- I put on hold a photo album (one of the eight Crone kept) and a typescript of a speech written by Crone. I have marked the pages in the photo album I'd like you to focus on, but if you have the time or interest to page through the entire photo album--it wouldn't take too long-- that would be fantastic. As for the speech, you only need to read a short segment (pages 3-5) just to get a sense of the development of Philippine-American relations well into the first two decades of the twentieth century. You can access the photographs and the speech online here, though I highly encourage you to take a look at them (especially the photographs!) in person.
Since we will be working primarily with photographs, I'd like to provide you with some historical context to help you 'read' them. I will be brief here and will elaborate more during the presentation, but if you have any pressing questions, feel free to ask in the comments.
The first paragraph probably already had you wondering: Who is Frank Crone and what does he, or United States in general, have to do with education in the Philippines at the start of the twentieth century? To fast forward through history, the Philippines was under Spanish colonization for over 300 years, from Magellan's arrival on Mactan Island in 1521 to the Philippine Revolution of 1898. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, Spain was a waning imperialist power (having lost most of its colonial possessions except for Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines, Guam, and smaller islands scattered throughout Micronesia and Polynesia), and the United States looked at this as an opportunity. It wasn't until the sinking of the USS Maine in Cuba that formally engaged the US and Spain in war-- the Spanish-American War. The Americans fought against Spain in the Caribbean and the Pacific-- along side Cuban and Philippine revolutionaries determined to gain independence from their colonizer, Spain. Ultimately, the US came out as the victor against Spain. After the signing of the Treaty of Paris, Spain gave up the its remaining colonies to the United States, the Philippines included for an extra $20 million.
This posed a problem for the Cubans and Filipinos. What of their revolutions for independence? While Spain did surrender to the United States, what role would Cuban and Filipino leaders have in the post-war peace talks and what kind of say in the Treaty of Paris? They were given none, essentially. Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines, and Guam were considered to belong to the United States, despite Cuba and the Philippines' successful revolutions against Spain. The Philippines declared its independence and already selected its first president, General Emilio Aguinaldo, the leader of the Philippine Revolution against Spain. But of course, the United States was not too happy with that, and the Filipino revolutionaries engaged in war with the United States for what is said to have been three years (1899-1902) by the United States government, despite the numerous insurrections that broke out afterwards.
And this is where Frank Crone and American schools in the Philippines comes in. The United States wanted to engage in its own form of imperialism and colonization-- though in such a way that was distinct from Spanish rule as well as that of other imperialist powers, like the British in India. President McKinley wanted to implement 'benevolent assimilation' in its newly acquired Philippine colonies with the aim of Christianizing and educating the Filipino. Education in the Philippines played a pivotal role in McKinley's plan for benevolent assimilation--the basic argument of the United States was that the Philippines was not ready for self-government and needed first to be taught how to be 'civilized' before such a 'savage' country could ever set up its own government. Crone eventually became the director of the Bureau of Education in the Philippines and directly oversaw the processes of implementing 'education to civilize.' Such a process included having English as the primary language of instruction (which has survived to the present today), introducing American narratives in the Philippines, and championing the US as the Philippines' savior against Spain (a narrative that continued through WWII with the Americans as the liberators against the Japanese).
What I would like for us to pay attention to on Tuesday is the role of photography in building the American imperialist narrative in the Philippines. A visual language of imperialism emerged at the turn of the century where imperialist powers displayed their colonies as spectacle-- through photography, film, exhibitions-- to build, justify, and sustain their narratives of colonial rule. Some of the first films were taken in the Philippines-- footage of the American soldiers fighting against unruly colonial subjects during the Philippine-American war or of the technologically backward navy of General Aguinaldo. Another form of spectacle, the 1904 World's Fair in St. Luis went so far as to put on the first human exhibits of Filipinos where natives were taken to represent the various regions of the Philippines and were shipped to Missouri to be observed by curious Americans. Much of such display was to demonstrate how effective Americans were in 'civilizing' the Filipino but at the same time how backward they still were and very much in need of American 'aid.' Photography, however, had the ability to be easily commodified and consumed by the vast majority of the American public that needed to be acquainted with the new colony in the far-away, 'exotic' Pacific. How are we, then, to read these photographs? What kind of imperialist tropes are visible in them? How do they build and sustain the American imperialist narrative and alter Philippine narratives to fit imperialist ones? What is the 'colonial gaze'?
I hope the information I've provided helps in understanding these photographs. In his essay "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," Walter Benjamin writes, “[Photographs] demand a specific kind of approach; free-floating contemplation is not appropriate to them.” He seems to be warning consumers of photographs to be weary of taking what photographs present to us at face value, and I hope the quick history review helps to provide meaningful context. But at the same time, I hope that we can discuss how that very principle-- the notion of examining photographs with free-floating contemplation-- makes the photograph such a useful weapon in crafting imperialist narratives.
-Bernadette
For my presentation on Tuesday, we will be looking at photographs collected by Frank L. Crone while he worked under the Philippine Bureau of Education from 1909-1915. The materials from the Crone mss are available at the reading room-- I put on hold a photo album (one of the eight Crone kept) and a typescript of a speech written by Crone. I have marked the pages in the photo album I'd like you to focus on, but if you have the time or interest to page through the entire photo album--it wouldn't take too long-- that would be fantastic. As for the speech, you only need to read a short segment (pages 3-5) just to get a sense of the development of Philippine-American relations well into the first two decades of the twentieth century. You can access the photographs and the speech online here, though I highly encourage you to take a look at them (especially the photographs!) in person.
Since we will be working primarily with photographs, I'd like to provide you with some historical context to help you 'read' them. I will be brief here and will elaborate more during the presentation, but if you have any pressing questions, feel free to ask in the comments.
The first paragraph probably already had you wondering: Who is Frank Crone and what does he, or United States in general, have to do with education in the Philippines at the start of the twentieth century? To fast forward through history, the Philippines was under Spanish colonization for over 300 years, from Magellan's arrival on Mactan Island in 1521 to the Philippine Revolution of 1898. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, Spain was a waning imperialist power (having lost most of its colonial possessions except for Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines, Guam, and smaller islands scattered throughout Micronesia and Polynesia), and the United States looked at this as an opportunity. It wasn't until the sinking of the USS Maine in Cuba that formally engaged the US and Spain in war-- the Spanish-American War. The Americans fought against Spain in the Caribbean and the Pacific-- along side Cuban and Philippine revolutionaries determined to gain independence from their colonizer, Spain. Ultimately, the US came out as the victor against Spain. After the signing of the Treaty of Paris, Spain gave up the its remaining colonies to the United States, the Philippines included for an extra $20 million.
This posed a problem for the Cubans and Filipinos. What of their revolutions for independence? While Spain did surrender to the United States, what role would Cuban and Filipino leaders have in the post-war peace talks and what kind of say in the Treaty of Paris? They were given none, essentially. Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines, and Guam were considered to belong to the United States, despite Cuba and the Philippines' successful revolutions against Spain. The Philippines declared its independence and already selected its first president, General Emilio Aguinaldo, the leader of the Philippine Revolution against Spain. But of course, the United States was not too happy with that, and the Filipino revolutionaries engaged in war with the United States for what is said to have been three years (1899-1902) by the United States government, despite the numerous insurrections that broke out afterwards.
And this is where Frank Crone and American schools in the Philippines comes in. The United States wanted to engage in its own form of imperialism and colonization-- though in such a way that was distinct from Spanish rule as well as that of other imperialist powers, like the British in India. President McKinley wanted to implement 'benevolent assimilation' in its newly acquired Philippine colonies with the aim of Christianizing and educating the Filipino. Education in the Philippines played a pivotal role in McKinley's plan for benevolent assimilation--the basic argument of the United States was that the Philippines was not ready for self-government and needed first to be taught how to be 'civilized' before such a 'savage' country could ever set up its own government. Crone eventually became the director of the Bureau of Education in the Philippines and directly oversaw the processes of implementing 'education to civilize.' Such a process included having English as the primary language of instruction (which has survived to the present today), introducing American narratives in the Philippines, and championing the US as the Philippines' savior against Spain (a narrative that continued through WWII with the Americans as the liberators against the Japanese).
What I would like for us to pay attention to on Tuesday is the role of photography in building the American imperialist narrative in the Philippines. A visual language of imperialism emerged at the turn of the century where imperialist powers displayed their colonies as spectacle-- through photography, film, exhibitions-- to build, justify, and sustain their narratives of colonial rule. Some of the first films were taken in the Philippines-- footage of the American soldiers fighting against unruly colonial subjects during the Philippine-American war or of the technologically backward navy of General Aguinaldo. Another form of spectacle, the 1904 World's Fair in St. Luis went so far as to put on the first human exhibits of Filipinos where natives were taken to represent the various regions of the Philippines and were shipped to Missouri to be observed by curious Americans. Much of such display was to demonstrate how effective Americans were in 'civilizing' the Filipino but at the same time how backward they still were and very much in need of American 'aid.' Photography, however, had the ability to be easily commodified and consumed by the vast majority of the American public that needed to be acquainted with the new colony in the far-away, 'exotic' Pacific. How are we, then, to read these photographs? What kind of imperialist tropes are visible in them? How do they build and sustain the American imperialist narrative and alter Philippine narratives to fit imperialist ones? What is the 'colonial gaze'?
I hope the information I've provided helps in understanding these photographs. In his essay "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," Walter Benjamin writes, “[Photographs] demand a specific kind of approach; free-floating contemplation is not appropriate to them.” He seems to be warning consumers of photographs to be weary of taking what photographs present to us at face value, and I hope the quick history review helps to provide meaningful context. But at the same time, I hope that we can discuss how that very principle-- the notion of examining photographs with free-floating contemplation-- makes the photograph such a useful weapon in crafting imperialist narratives.
-Bernadette
ReplyDeleteInitially what strikes me about these photos is the amount of care put into their production and presentation. Some of them appear to be hand-tinted and almost look like water color paintings. Take the first page of the album, the picture labeled, “Picturesque Spot Near Asturias Barrack Jolo” doesn’t seem photographic at all. This may be on account of deterioration, but in one light it appears to be an artist rendition of the spot and in another an actual photo of it. Likewise, the “Moro Houses” appear airbrushed and, as they are tinted, it seems like only an idealist recreation of an imagined destination.
The photographs focus on groupings of individuals: teams, musicians, etc. In the pictures from 1913-14, we see groups of Filipinos who seem to be dressed up in atypical attire. One may imagine the way ‘old-time’ photos are taken and staged as a comparison. They’re not all together convincingly genuine, but that’s not to say they were meant to be. After all, in a sense, a photograph is a completely staged spectacle in itself and these photos have a certain artificiality to them not foreign to a modern viewer.
As to the question of how to read the photos: I’m not entirely convinced by this album that the photographer was wholly concerned with providing an imperialist slant to his subjects. Obviously, there are moments that seem awkward and overtly artificial: the photo entitled, “Howard Love in his Sonojon Office 1912” depicts a kind of sterility that suggests to me a staginess that would come with feeling the need to depict a certain tone, this is true also of the Parade Carnival photos.
Of course, reading these one way or another is free-floating contemplation in practice. Photographs, especially old ones, have a kind of retrograde quality that makes them instantaneously subliminal. It may have to do with their concreteness, their seemingly objective approach at documenting an event; however, in reality, photography is an art form working on the same premises as painting, sculpture, writing, etc. It is the practice of practicing certain illusions to reach desired effects, emotional or otherwise. A lot goes into a photograph and it’s interesting because, more often than not, it involves others and their own sense of themselves, how they want to be documented and seen. It’s the difference between people who smirk and those who smile: they’re telling you something about themselves you could get in no other situation.
I’m not sure what this has to do with Crone’s album except maybe to generate some discussion.
As a side note or afterthought, ‘colonial gaze’ seems alluring in the context of the pictures; however, I’ve learned my lesson about discussing anything with the word ‘gaze’ in it, mainly that there is usually an answer behind someone’s back about what in particular they’d like to talk about when they use the term. Also, there is always someone smarter than you who actually knows about the concept of gaze and will you put you to shame for using it haphazardly.
You bring up a lot of interesting points concerning the issues of staged photos and the recreation of an ideal whose illusions are formulated to reach desired effects. And as you probably figured after my presentation, I think the staging and illusions were deliberate by the American taking the photo-- having already been deeply influenced on how to read the Philippines and the Filipino based on how the American media framed the new colony and historical tropes used to describe colonial subjects, tropes the American middle-class was very familiar with. You are definitely right to suggest that free-floating contemplation is in practice, and I would go a step further to suggest that such free-floating thinking by those who consumed these kind of photographs only lead to a confirmation of imperialist notions. And on how photographs involve others and the photographer's and subjects' sense of themselves-- the difference between a smirk and a smile: would the way we approach that point change if we consider that the subjects of most of these photographs did not have their photo taken by choice; that they did not choose to be documented; that the photographer had an agenda of needing to translate and communicate an unknown land, a new colony, to himself if not other Americans as well?
DeleteAbout whether or not the photographer intended to provide an imperialist slant-- it is definitely plausible that they may have intended to look at the Philippines through their own perspective without deliberately taking a picture to feed to the American public or those in Washington. But I would suggest that they way in which they viewed the Philippines (especially considering that these photographs belong to a man deeply invested in the imperialist project of the US government) was already pre-configured-- by the media and familiar representations of other colonized peoples-- well before they set foot on the islands.
If you haven't looked at it already, you might want to check out Susan Sontag's On Photography, a seminal book on the ways that we examine and are affected by photographs. (She has an essay with the same title.)
ReplyDeleteThanks for the suggestion-- a few sources I've looked at actually quote Sontag quite often in their own studies of photographs taken in the Philippines at the turn of the century. It's been quite a while since I've read her essay (I'll have to look at the book too), so I will definitely take the time to revisit it!
DeleteVery interesting discussion already. I would like to add one thought that we might want to consider, too: the photographs to me seem to be quite different in quality, ranging from snapshots (possible since about 1900 due to the development of inexpensive box cameras) and more formal portraits, taken with professional plate cameras. (Of course, the more or less official postcards add yet another genre to the mix). So we're looking at different "authors," so to speak, while the act of arranging these photographs in albums (according to subject, size, or other criteria that we still need to determine) adds yet another level of authorship to these artifacts (I won't say "gaze," Aaron, but mainly because I have grown a little tired of people deconstructing the tyranny of the "gaze" from what is itself usually a position that is pretty authoritarian itself).
ReplyDeleteYes, many of the photos do range in quality-- some are snapshots, formal portraits, some are even postcards. It is interesting to consider how photography developed over the years-- from daguerreotypes whose long exposures forced subjects to sit still, posed, for at least 60 seconds, to portable cameras that allowed photos to be taken outside of studios and almost instantly. What or who decided whether or not a subject was taken with professional plate cameras or simple box cameras?
DeleteAs far as the arrangement of the photographs, I found Crone to be a little sloppy-- at least in keeping the photographs in chronological order. Photos from 1912 would be mixed with others taken from 1915. It seems like he constructed the albums after his return to the States. It also seems like he was mostly interested in the aesthetic arrangement of them. I think a good example is the Rizal Day parade photo being grouped with other floats draped in American flags taken from another festival-- an arrangement that further appropriates Rizal into the American imperialist narrative. There are also photos that juxtapose children in American schools and others who do not attend, perhaps suggesting both "progress" and the need to continue schooling more Filipino children. I think the same logic applies to the photos of Filipinos on sports teams or in bands next to photos of groups of Filipinos dressed in Philippine clothing in front of their homes or in other everyday senarios. Another interesting arrangement Crone continues is the "before and after" photos (not uncommon in the anthropologist Dean Worcester's photos) where one photo is a Filipino in traditional clothing and the one next to it is the same Filipino a few months or years later in Western clothing.
Yes, I think you are exactly right about aesthetics being so important for Crone-the question is why? And I wonder if this can be linked to the educational ideas he propagated--which abstracted from history and context and promoted a kind of timeless notion of citizenship, impervious to politics? Ironically, this is precisely what Irving's "Rip van Winkle" ironizes: Rip is a loser, who doesn't care whether or not the King or George Washington rules the country.
ReplyDeleteYour description above is fantastic.