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Bullets, bolos, and the Moros : policing and anthropology in the colonial Philippines, 1901-1914 Murray, Hanna 2019

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    BULLETS, BOLOS, AND THE MOROS: POLICING AND ANTHROPOLOGY IN THE COLONIAL PHILIPPINES, 1901 – 1914  by  HANNA MURRAY  B.A., The University of British Columbia, 2016  A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF  MASTER OF ARTS  in   THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES  (History)  THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA  (Vancouver)  February 2019  © Hanna Murray, 2019                 	 ii	The following individuals certify that they have read, and recommend to the Faculty of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies for acceptance, the thesis entitled:    Bullets, Bolos, and the Moros: Policing and Anthropology in the Colonial Philippines, 1898 – 1914____   submitted by       Hanna Murray                                              in partial fulfillment of the requirements for   the  degree of  Master of Arts  _________________________________________________________                                                                                                                     in            History________________________________________________________________   Examining Committee:  Jessica Wang, History_______________________ Supervisor   John Roosa, History________________________ Supervisory Committee Member   Tristan Grunow, History ____________________ Additional Examiner                    	 iii	Abstract   This thesis utilizes extensive archival material from the University of Oregon to argue that the Philippine Constabulary, founded by the US government in 1901, conducted important anthropological research on the Islands during the early period of American colonial rule.  While previous scholarship has examined the importance of anthropology and the Constabulary in the consolidation and operation of American overseas empire, no study has yet significantly considered the linkages between them and the impact that this partnership may have had on the nature of American colonial rule.  This thesis argues that anthropology provided a framework through which the white, male, American officers of the Constabulary could understand their experiences leading and policing racial others, and this provided both guidance and justification for their actions as imperial agents. This thesis uses personal records and mementos left behind by Constabulary officers to uncover the ways in which these men engaged with and employed anthropological ideas daily in their work policing the Islands.  As the colonial agents most frequently in contact with the inhabitants of the Islands, the anthropological work conducted by officers in many ways played a more crucial role in the day-to-day governance of the Islands than that done by colonial officials far removed from the peoples they governed.  As such, this thesis brings to the forefront the integral role that early-twentieth-century science, through its alliance with colonial policing, played in not just justifying but in actually undertaking American empire. Through an examination of the beliefs and actions of the individual men who served as officers in the Philippine Constabulary, this thesis uncovers a hitherto understudied aspect of American empire in the Philippines and, in doing so, expands our understanding of exactly what American empire meant at the beginning of the twentieth century. 	 iv	Lay Summary  Using original archival research from the University of Oregon, this thesis argues that the Philippine Constabulary, a police force established by the US colonial government in the Islands in 1901, played an important role in shaping the early years of American empire in the Islands through its engagement with the emerging science of anthropology.  In particular, it argues that the white, male officers of the Constabulary played an even more important role in the day-to-day governance of the Islands than professional anthropologists, due to officers’ daily contact with the peoples of the Islands.  Through examining the personal records left behind by the officers of the Philippine Constabulary, which reveal the officers’ engagement with anthropology, this thesis brings to the forefront the integral role that early-twentieth-century science, through its alliance with colonial policing, played in not just justifying but in actually undertaking American empire.              	 v	Preface   This thesis is original, unpublished, independent work by the author, Hanna Murray.                                            	 vi	Table of Contents  Abstract …………………………………………………………………………………………. iii  Lay Summary …………………………………………………………………………………… iv   Preface …………………………………………………………………………………………… v  Table of Contents ……………………………………………………………………………….. vi   Acknowledgements …………………………………………………………………………….. vii  Introduction ……………………………………………………………………………………… 1  Anthropology and Policing in the Philippines: The Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes and the Philippine Constabulary ………………………………………………………………………... 15  “Being a Constable Among the Moros” ………………………………………………………... 25  Colonel John R. White and the Practical Implications of Anthropology in the Philippines …… 35 Conclusion ……………………………………………………………………………………… 53  Bibliography ……………………………………………………………………………………. 57                       	 vii	Acknowledgements    I offer my sincere thanks to the faculty and staff of the History department at UBC, who have inspired to become a better historian and who have supported me every step of the way throughout both my masters and my undergraduate degrees.  I truly could not have done it without your collective wisdom, patience, and kindness.   I am also deeply indebted to my fellow students in the department, in particular Teihard Paradela, for their smart comments, their informed advice, and, most of all, for their endless encouragement during these last few years.  Finally, I owe particular thanks to Dr. Jessica Wang, whose brilliance and enthusiasm for her craft have inspired me as both a scholar and a teacher.  Her patience in guiding me throughout the course of this thesis was exemplary, and I truly could not have done it without her. 	 1	Introduction  In a circular of information for prospective field workers issued by the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, Chief of Bureau David P. Barrows extended a special invitation to inspectors of the Philippine Constabulary, the body in charge of policing the Philippine Islands and quelling the unrest that remained after the official end of the Philippine-American War, to engage in the project of ethnographically surveying the Islands.1 This invitation may have been purely practical; as the body mandated to observe and police the disparate peoples of the Philippines, Constabulary officers had much more opportunity to interact and observe peoples beyond the reach of bureaucrats in Manila.  Indeed, the Constabulary often accompanied officials to the provinces, their outfits providing protection and facilitating communication through local knowledge.2  The request also, however, suggested that Barrows saw Constabulary officers themselves as an integral part of the information-gathering and civilizing mission of the American colonial government.  Stationed in remote areas, Constabulary officers were advantageously placed for observation of local peoples; as white men they considered themselves uniquely qualified for scientific observation of the “little brown soldiers” under their command and the peoples under their jurisdiction.   While it is impossible to discern how many Constabulary officers answered Barrows’ call for collaboration, connections between the mandates of the two bodies can be found in the form of Constabulary reports on provinces under their control.  Although these reports were not explicitly written for scientific purposes, their style and content still closely resembled the anthropological reports issued by the Department of the Interior, suggesting the influence of the 																																																								1 David P. Barrows, Circular of Information, Instructions for Volunteer Field Workers; The Museum of Ethnology, Natural History and Commerce (The Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes: Manila, 1901), 9.   2 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), 219.  	 2	emerging science on the officers of the Constabulary.  Reports such as Major Henry Gilsheuser’s Monograph of Lanao Province not only contained accounts of Constabulary action in the Philippines but also information on medical practices, religion, legendary history, marriage, and other customs.3  As such, they bear marked similarities to the anthropological surveys included in the annual Report of the Philippine Commission and other works published by enthusiasts of Philippine anthropology.4  Colonial officials and government bureaus often used such language. Indeed, Paul Kramer has called attention to the important role anthropology played in the construction of the American colonial government in the early years of its possession of the Philippines and argues that the regime “sponsored anthropology and other forms of knowledge production as part of their effort to construct a ‘pragmatic’ empire.”5  However, high-level officials and bureaus were largely concentrated in Manila, far from many of the subjects they ostensibly governed.  Constabulary officers’ familiarity with the science’s theories about race and their proficiency in employing the anthropological lexicon can thus help to expand our understanding of the ways in which the emerging field of anthropology actually impacted the day to day lives of the peoples of the Philippines.      Indeed, it is remarkable how closely the language of Constabulary officers, untrained in anthropological theory, mirrored that of ‘experts.’  On one level, this points to the nascence of American anthropology in this period.  Many who were not strictly trained in the field, such as former zoologist and colonial official Dean C. Worcester, could lay claim to expert knowledge.  																																																								3 Monograph of Lanao Province, prepared by Philippine Constabulary of Lanao, 1916, Henry Gilsheuser Papers, Ax 325, Box 2 Folder 1, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  4 See, for example, Dean C. Worcester, The Philippine Islands and Their People (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1898); Worcester, The Philippines Past and Present (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1914); and A. L. Kroeber, Peoples of the Philippines (New York: American Museum of Natural History, 1919.  5 Paul Kramer, “The Pragamtic Empire: U.S. Anthropology and Colonial Politics in the Occupied Philippines, 1898-1916” (Dissertation, Princeton University, 1998), 1.  	 3	On another level, however, the anthropological qualities of Constabulary reports indicate that Constabulary officers, at least to some extent, observed the peoples under their jurisdiction through an anthropological lens.  These reports also indicate that Constabulary officers saw anthropological information as essential to their work in policing the Islands, as twentieth-century anthropology’s reification of white supremacy and confirmation of the validity of the American civilizing project functioned as a source of officers’ power and authority over the peoples under their jurisdiction.  While professional anthropologists often had a limited role in actually shaping the policies of American empire, through the officers of the Philippine Constabulary sciences such as anthropology played a much larger role in the practical execution of American empire than previously understood.   Through an analysis of the early years of American-led policing in the Philippines, the years in which the emerging science of anthropology played its most prominent role in the colonial government, my project seeks to examine the ways in which colonial agents on the ground understood modern scientific theory, how it acted as a framework for officers to understand their role in the Islands, and, finally, the ways in which it might have determined the form that day-to-day colonial governance took.  While separate studies conducted by historians such as Kramer and Alfred McCoy have examined the importance of anthropology and the Constabulary in the consolidation and operation of American empire overseas, respectively, no study has yet significantly considered the linkages between the two and the impact that this partnership may have had on American rule.  Thus, this study of the Constabulary officers’ understanding and employment of anthropological ideas gives us new insight into the ways in which social sciences like anthropology actually shaped the relationships between representatives of American empire and the peoples they came into daily contact with.  	 4	This paper will first examine the Philippine Constabulary and the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, the chief anthropological entity in the Islands, and will reveal the ways in which the connections between the two organizations had profound significance in how imperial policy found expression on the ground.  I will then investigate the Constabulary’s appeal to white, American men, and examine what their position as officers meant to them and how their understanding of modern scientific theory, and in particular anthropology, shaped their undertaking of their role in the Islands.  Finally, I will explore anthropology’s direct influence on governance in the Islands through the career of Colonel John R. White, a Constabulary officer who occupied several administrative roles within the Philippines and whose understanding of anthropology and progressive science profoundly shaped both his opinions and actions.  Through the impact of anthropological thought on the myriad roles that White held in the Philippines, we can see the ways in which anthropological theory was able to significantly shape colonial governance on the provincial level in the Islands.  In all, this paper brings to the forefront the integral role that early-twentieth-century science, through its alliance with colonial policing, played in not just justifying but in actually undertaking American empire.  The beliefs and actions of the individual men who served as officers in the Philippine Constabulary can offer us insight into a hitherto understudied aspect of American empire in the Philippines, expanding our understanding of exactly what American empire meant at the beginning of the twentieth century, not just at the uppermost levels of government but as it began to shape day to day life in the Islands.  In Policing America’s Empire: The United States, the Philippines, and the Rise of the Surveillance State Alfred W. McCoy examines the ways in which the American colonial government used rapid advances in information technologies to make Filipino subjects legible, and how developments in colonial policing led to the creation of the first modern surveillance 	 5	state in the Islands.  In turn, the techniques and technologies refined in the governance of the Philippine Islands led to the perfection of the American surveillance state.6 McCoy argues that despite American interest in surveillance and colonial policing, in comparison to much of the British Empire, “American rule in the Philippines was distinguished by its inherently superficial character.”7  Where most British colonials were educated and many belonged to a “scholarly coterie with extraordinary cultural expertise,” McCoy writes that the American colonial government in the Philippines was, by contrast, uninterested in the study of subjects such as “textual and archaeological remains,” preferring instead to “adapt its new information technologies for hasty, inherently superficial surveys of the Philippine present.”8   While the nature of American imperialism was undoubtedly different than that of the British Empire, to attribute a lack of interest in older forms of knowledge such as archaeology to the “inherently superficial character” of American rule is to overlook the new forms of knowledge that were emerging and gaining credence in the early twentieth century, such as anthropology.  In its determination to bring civilization to the Islands, while confronted with a subject population that did not possess the rights of American citizens, the colonial government had the opportunity to cultivate an administration whose decisions were, at least ostensibly, scientifically guided.  Indeed, American possession of the Philippines not only offered a rich opportunity for colonial officials to take part in state-building without the constraints present on the mainland, but also provided a space in which both aspiring experts and amateurs could develop and apply emerging sciences.  Where perhaps the colonial government may have sought only that information it considered most useful in bringing the Islands’ population under its control, many individuals and groups sought to deepen their understanding of the Islands’ 																																																								6 McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 17.  7 Ibid., 42.  8 Ibid., 42-43.   	 6	history, language, and customs through concerted study.  Many colonials saw the Philippines as a laboratory, and their projects included such things as public health and sanitation, prison reform, and the management of vice.9 Indeed, colonial authorities such as Director of Health Victor Heiser and Dean C. Worcester’s all claimed that they based their organizations’ policies on a deep understanding of the Philippines, based on the most current theories of health, race, and social science.10  Of course, for all its pretensions of objective scientific study, the American colonial government and those who worked for it had a vested interest in racializing Filipinos and relegating them to an inferior level of civilization.  In recent years, historians have examined the American colonial project in the Philippines as a continuation of the westward expansion undertaken throughout the nineteenth century and, more particularly, to examine the colonization of the Philippines in tandem with conditions confronted on the mainland, such as indigenous resistance and the problem of race.  In her study of the visual abjection of Filipino bodies under American empire, Nerissa Balce writes, “the colonization of the Philippine Islands by the United States, witnessed by the rise of visual and print technologies, created abject peoples whom American ‘imperialism rejects but cannot do without.’”11  Tropes such as “red savagery” and 																																																								9 Warwick Anderson, Colonial Pathologies: American Tropical Medicine, Race, and Hygiene in the Philippines (Durham: Duke University Press, 2006); Paul A. Kramer, “Colonial Crossings: Prostitution, Disease, and the Boundaries of Empire during the Philippine-American War” in Body and Nation: The Global Realm of U.S. Body Politics in the Twentieth Century, eds. Emily S. Rosenberg and Shanon Fitzpatrick (Durham: Duke University Press, 2014) 10 For a detailed history of Victor Heiser and Dean C. Worcester see Anderson, Colonial Pathologies and Mark Rice, Dean Worcester’s Fantasy Islands: Photography, Film, and the Colonial Philippines (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2014), respectively.  11 Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender, and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest (New York: Routledge, 1995) qtd. in Nerissa Balce, Body Parts of Empire: Visual Abjection, Filipino Images, and the American Archive (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2016), 8. 	 7	“black docility” were transported from the mainland as a tool to help both military and civilian leaders understand the new peoples that confronted them.12  As Gail Bederman observes in Manliness and Civilization, the mobilization of race was important in the turn-of-the-century American quest to remake manhood, as Progressive Era men used “ideas about white supremacy to produce a racially based ideology of male power.”13 As Bederman writes, leaders such as Theodore Roosevelt believed that the American race “must continue striving manfully to wrest the world’s ‘waste spaces’ from the inferior races,” and “if all domestic territory had been wrested from the savages, then American men must turn their attention overseas.”14  These growing anxieties about the implications of the closing of the frontier, such as civilizational stagnation and degeneration, shaped the nature of American expansion overseas.15 By denying brown bodies the civilizational qualities of white Americans and relegating them to the effeminate or “unmanly,” the colonial government sought to assert its superiority and exercise racialized power over its subjects.  New technologies of empire aided in this project.  As McCoy writes, American conviction of Filipinos’ weak character and their collection of intelligence to support this conviction may have infused officials “with the sense of superiority essential for the exercise of colonial domination.”16   Nerissa Balce observes that the indigenous body and its opposite, the white body, preoccupied the colonial government, placing it at the centre of both theoretical debates and the 																																																								12 Balce, Body Parts of Empire, 9.  13 Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880-1917 (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1995), 5.  14 Ibid., 183-4.  15 Frederick Jackson Turner, “The Significance of the Frontier in American History,” in The Early Writings of Frederick Jackson Turner: With a List of All His Works, ed. Everett E. Edwards (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1938), 187. 16 McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 111.  	 8	day-to-day governance of the Islands.17  As such, disciplines focussed on, to varying degrees, the body and culture played a significant role in justifying America’s colonial project.18  In particular, as Paul Kramer observes, anthropology greatly contributed to the production of knowledge about the Philippines and its residents, as it supported American empire and gained legitimacy at the same time.19  In an era where anthropology was in the process of formalizing as a scientific discipline, anthropological work lent scientific credence to theories of racial difference between the white American body and the bodies of Americans’ “little brown brothers,” who needed to be guided towards civilization.  These scientific findings in turn allowed colonial officials like Worcester to justify and support American governance in the Philippines to the American public.  American anthropology at the turn of the century differed from simple theories of Social Darwinism in a number of ways.  As Lee D. Baker writes,  Early anthropology should be viewed as an integral and significant participant in the veritable cottage industry of racist theory and science at the turn of the century.  The anthropological discourse on race is distinguished from other leading Social Darwinist texts because ethnologists linked anthropometric measurements and cranial capacities to language, social institutions, kinship, morality, and technology and then positioned people into grades of race and culture.20   Anthropology in the United States developed within the context of a society confronted by racial ‘others,’ most specifically indigenous peoples and black Americans.  As Baker explains, in the early twentieth century, “the field of anthropology emerged as a relatively powerful discipline as 																																																								17 Balce, Body Parts of Empire, 9.  18 As Courtney Johnson observes, as “individual scholars were tapped for imperial service, a number of professional academic disciplines… developed symbiotically with the increasingly complex task of imperial management abroad.”  Johnson, “Understanding the American Empire: Colonialism, Latin Americanism, and Professional Social Science, 1898-1920” in Colonial Crucible: Empire in the Making of the Modern American State, eds. Alfred W. McCoy and Francisco A. Scarano (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009), 176.  19 Paul A. Kramer, “The Pragmatic Empire,” 6.  20 Lee D. Baker, From Savage to Negro: Anthropology and the Construction of Race, 1896-1954 (Berkeley; Los Angeles; London: University of California Press, 1998), 78.  	 9	it explained, described, and preserved ‘peoples’ who were out of bounds, culturally distinct, vanishing, and viewed as the primitive native.”21  This is not to say that early-twentieth-century anthropological language provided an uncontested account of these ‘out of bounds peoples’; indeed, at the turn of the century “ideas of blood, civilization, nation, culture, and race were often used interchangeably because ‘there was not a clear line between cultural and physical elements or between social and biological heredity.’”22 While its practitioners debated the tenets of the science, anthropology’s naissance also meant that its scientific ideas about racial difference did not remain confined to ‘experts’ or even the educated, upper echelon of the American society.  Indeed, much of the legacy of the early years of anthropology was, “the direct result of scholars, activists, lawyers, and government officials with little or no formal anthropological training,” who took anthropology “out of the academy to change the terms and conditions under which race and racism were constituted.”23  Knowledge of anthropology spread to the general public through these debates, and new forms of entertainment like World’s Fairs, Wild West shows, anthropology museums and publications all facilitated the popularization and propagation of anthropological ideas throughout American society as a whole.24 This reality had profound consequences for the ways in which anthropology developed.  As Baker writes:  Anthropology has developed a symbiotic and at times parasitic relationship with popular conceptions of race and culture.  The concepts of race and culture within anthropology have influenced popular understandings of these concepts, just as popular understandings of these concepts have influenced anthropology.25   																																																								21 Baker, Anthropology and the Racial Politics of Culture (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010), 5.  22 George W. Stocking, qtd. in Baker, Anthropology and the Racial Politics of Culture, 5.  23 Ibid., 8.  24 Ibid., 15.  25 Ibid., 5.  	 10	As such, non-scientists such as would-be Constabulary officers would have had at least some degree of exposure to the new anthropological languages of race and culture and, in participating in these discourses, played an active role in shaping the nascent science of anthropology.  Such processes likewise occurred in the Islands themselves.  Kramer observes that “[l]ike the Philippines itself, anthropology during the U.S. occupation was no single group’s possession but took shape only as different groups built and defended their claims to ownership.”26  Along with the Constabulary, proponents of anthropology in the colonial government recruited the services of departments such as the Bureau of Education, whose teachers “were encouraged to undertake amateur ethnological investigations” and provincial governors “actively employed ethnology to better understand and rule their often resistant subjects.27  As Kramer writes, anthropology’s “loose terms and ready availability made it the potential possession of miners, constabularymen, schoolteachers and official wives as well as trained specialists, each of whom might define its core terms – progress, assimilation, evolution, race – in divergent and conflicting ways.”28  As such “anthropology in the Philippine colonial setting was a malleable intellectual effort that served a shifting set of imperial purposes,” allowing colonial officials “to build the functioning administrative grid it required for successful political control, and to claim themselves the defenders of highland Filipinos against lowlanders.”29  Consequently, anthropology became one of the foundational intellectual concepts of the American colonial period in the Philippines.    																																																								26 Kramer, “The Pragmatic Empire,” 2.  27 Ibid., 4.  28 Ibid., 6.  29 One of the many justifications for continued American rule over the Philippines was the argument that should the Christian Filipino elite assume power, it would allow for their inevitable mistreatment of the many non-Christian tribes in the Islands.  Ibid., 6.  	 11	Some historians have argued that anthropologists and anthropology had limited ability to actively determine the course of American Empire.  As Talal Asad writes,  [t]he role of anthropologists in maintaining structures of imperial domination has, despite slogans to the contrary, usually been trivial; the knowledge they produced was often too esoteric for government use, and even where it was usable it was marginal in comparison to the vast body of information routinely accumulated by merchants, missionaries, and administrators.30   However, if there is some validity to the claim that the role of formal anthropology practiced by experts in the field may have been “relatively unimportant” for colonialism, anthropology as understood and practiced by petty colonial agents played a significant role in the exercise and maintenance of American power in the Philippine Islands. The white, male officers of the Philippine Constabulary played an important role in disseminating anthropological ideas throughout the colonial establishment. While those claiming the title of anthropologist may not have been able to determine imperial policy in the Philippines, anthropological ideas shaped officers’ perceptions of the cultures they encountered in the Islands and guided them in their day-to-day task of governing and perpetuating American power in the Islands.  An examination of the papers, diaries, and other memorabilia left behind by American officers of the Philippine Constabulary allows us insight into the ways in which officers thought about and interacted with the peoples under their jurisdiction, and thus what they understood their role in the Islands to be.  As such, they tell us a great deal about the ways in which formal scientific theories found expression in the beliefs and actions of the police on the ground in the Islands. The Constabulary had a particularly important role in policing and quelling unrest in the remote provinces inhabited by what the American government called the non-Christian tribes.  Paul Kramer observes that the colonial state established “a racially bifurcated system of rule: 																																																								30 Talal Asad, “Afterword: From the History of Colonial Anthropology to the Anthropology of Western Hegemony,” in Colonial Situations: Essays on the Contextualization of Ethnographic Knowledge,” ed. George W. Stocking, Jr. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1993), 315.  	 12	Christians would be granted partial, local self-government while non-Christians would be governed exclusively by American politico-military commanders.”31  After the civilian government took control over the majority of the provinces, the result was that, as McCoy writes, in “tribal territories far from Manila, PC officers were enmeshed in an ill-defined joint rule by constabulary and the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, a unit of the colonial Interior Department that served as the regime’s all-powerful agency for minority areas.”32  Constabulary officers interacted daily with the peoples of these remote provinces, both through their command of native soldiers and through the communities they encountered, which gave them ample opportunity to observe and reflect on ideas of race and civilization.  Embedded in a colonial society that depended on scientific racism, the study of modern science appealed to Constabulary officers for a number of reasons.  Close observation of subject populations in the Philippines could aid in the Constabulary’s official mission in the Islands, while officers’ personal interest in documenting and collecting information allowed them to participate in the larger scientific project of American empire. The Constabulary played an important role in shaping American understanding of their new colonial possessions.  Reports by officers closely resembled the kinds of anthropological work done by Worcester and his contemporaries, in turn inspired by the contemporary ethnological and evolutionary theory of figures like Galton and Lombroso, and detailed the physical appearance, customs, and dress of the inhabitants in their regions.  The ideas expressed in these reports made their way up the chain of command, into the annual reports of the Philippine Commission to the War Department, which were important tools for disseminating 																																																								31 Paul Kramer, “Race, Empire, and Transnational History,” in Colonial Crucible: Empire in the Making of the Modern American State, ed. Alfred W. McCoy and Francisco A. Scarano (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009), 207.  32 McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 207.  	 13	information to the American government on the mainland.  The similarities in beliefs and practices between anthropology and policing, two formally separate American institutions in the Islands, speak to a pervasive American mindset in the Philippines, one founded on racial ideas reinforced by early twentieth century science.  However, as Barrows’ manual indicates, the American scientific project in the Islands largely relied on the efforts of those untrained in formal science, and its call for volunteers attracted those most interested in feeling themselves an integral part of American empire.  Where anthropology alone may have failed to create a significant impact on colonial governance, its alliance with colonial policing meant that its more powerful tenets found expression in the Philippines.  In her book Imperial Leather, Anne McClintock observes that the “‘planned epistemic violence of the imperialist project’ was also, all too often, backed up by the planned institutional violence of armies and law courts, prisons and state machinery.”  She explains, “[i]f colonial texts reveal fissures and contradictions, the colonials themselves all too often succeeded in settling matters of indecision with a violent excess of militarized masculinity.”33  As McClintock writes, “it is precisely the inventedness of historical hierarchies that renders attention to social power and violence so much more urgent.”34  In the Philippines, perhaps no body played a more important role in reinforcing these historical hierarchies as the Constabulary.35 Indeed, as Colonel John R. White wrote, for “fifteen years [the early period of American rule] there was no department of the Insular Government more influential and efficient than the Constabulary.”36  Therefore, as agents of the coercive violence of the colonial state, Constabulary officers’ use of 																																																								33 Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather, 16.  34 Ibid., 8.  35 McCoy argues that “the creation of sophisticated modern policing was crucial to the U.S. pacification of the Philippines.” Alfred W. McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 16. 36 John R. White, Bullets and Bolos: Fifteen Years in the Philippine Islands (New York; London: The Century Co., 1928), ix.   	 14	racial science in the Islands is an important key to understanding the ways in which the ideological structures of American imperialism found expression in the Philippines.                         	 15	Anthropology and Policing in the Philippines: The Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes and the Philippine Constabulary    In 1901 the United States established a civil government in the Philippines, which wrested control from a reluctant Army.  Continued resistance to the American occupation of the Philippines meant that active conflict was still present in the Islands, but the Philippine Commission was unwilling to solicit aid from the military leadership that it had just displaced.  In response to these issues the Philippine Commission established the Constabulary in 1901 to act as an insular police force.  Although centrally commanded by the Director of the Constabulary in Manila, each province was made into an administrative unit under the command of a “senior inspector,” and the provinces of the Islands were grouped into five districts commanded by an assistant director.37  While Filipino soldiers made up a large portion of the rank and file, during the first decade or so of the Constabulary’s existence, white American men generally filled higher administrative positions and officer commissions.38   As a colonial organization the Philippine Constabulary had multiple roles.  Naturally one of these roles was policing: “maintaining order, preventing and detecting crime, and enforcing the laws.”39  However, as one publication supporting the recognition of current officers as commissioned members of the United States army claimed, “At no time was the Constabulary in fact, law, or action what its name is sometimes thought to imply – that is, merely a police force.”40 In a state where, unlike the United States, there were “few effective limits to the colonial state’s interference in individual lives,” the Constabulary, as the coercive arm of the colonial 																																																								37 Manual for the Philippines Constabulary 1907 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1906), 9-12.  38 Ibid., 382.  39 Ibid., 9.  40 “The Philippine Constabulary: Facts about its remarkable service that are little known outside of the Islands,” in 1904-5 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 	 16	government, had freer rein than police on the mainland.41  Indeed, the Constabulary occupied a diverse number of roles in the Islands; as a former American officer reflected, it “kept an eye on the provincial and municipal officials; enforced quarantine during epidemics of cholera… and other diseases; assisted in the rounding up of lepers… and in numerous ways helped out other governmental entities.”42  Created to maintain order in place of the military, nevertheless the Constabulary’s “organization, discipline and training was that of any military body, and the work required of its officers was of a most exacting character, demanding much energy, tact and ability.”43  The myriad roles of the Constabulary, and the Philippine Commission’s reliance on it, gave its officers and enlisted men an extraordinary opportunity, compared to other police forces at the time, to engage with the different projects of American empire, from basic law enforcement within the colony to supporting the development and application of American science in the Islands.   The colonial government also envisioned the Constabulary as playing a vital role in the civilizing mission of American empire in the Philippines.  As Dean C. Worcester’s “Igorot Sequence” indicates, the Philippine Commission considered the Constabulary an important educational tool that functioned through the enlistment and tutelage of natives under white American officers.44  In this sense, as one Constabulary circular claimed, the officers of the 																																																								41 Between 1865 and 1905 metropolitan police forces grew rapidly in the United States, but were still largely localized and susceptible to corruption and patronage.  Centralization only occurred in the period from 1900 to 1930.  McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 25.   42 “What of the Original Philippine Constabulary?” Maurice P. Alger Papers, Ax 477, Box 1 Folder 3, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 43 “The Philippine Constabulary: Facts about its remarkable service that are little known outside of the Islands,” in 1904-5 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 44 The “Igorot Sequence” consisted of a series of three photographs, taken at different times, of the same man, that Worcester used to demonstrate the civilizing influence of American government and the Philippine Constabulary.  However, Rice effectively exposes the true conditions of the production of these photographs, two of which were taken on the same day instead of a year apart, as the caption indicates.  	 17	Constabulary had, in “addition to the training and instruction of their men… a great deal of civil and political work of an important character.”45  These aspirations for the Constabulary’s to act as an educator extended beyond the higher orders of the colonial government.  As a 1910 letter reporting a Constabulary engagement in Dapitan reveals, officers themselves had a clear sense of the importance of their role as civilizers and the transformative nature of service under civilized, American men.  In it, the district commander wrote that the incident was parallel to “hundreds of others where our officers with our little brown soldiers have gone on against many times their numbers of savage men.”46  Enlisting in the Constabulary, and consequently accepting and perpetuating American governance, elevated the native populations from “savage men” to “little brown soldiers,” and brought them under the wing of the benevolent colonial state.   Still, there were limits to the civilizing influence of the force.  In an unpublished manuscript titled Blades in the Sun, Victor Hurley, author of four other books on the Philippines, conjured up an image of native slavish affection for the American officers.  Describing Captain Leonard Furlong’s adventures in the Constabulary, Hurley wrote: “Furlong’s Moro company achieved the reputation of being the best drilled and trained unit in the Moro country.  They were deadly little terriers, trotting around after Furlong with fanatical devotion.”47  In describing Furlong’s company this way, Hurley asserted that it deserved commendation not because of the skill of the solders, but because of their ability and willingness to follow the orders of the American Furlong.  Likewise, in comparing the Moro soldiers to terriers, Hurley limited their 																																																																																																																																																																																			Rice, “His Name Was Don Francisco Moro: Reconstructing an Image of American Imperialism” American Quarterly 62, no. 1 (2010), 51. 45 “Bureau of Constabulary Circular No. 34,” 1907, Henry Gilsheuser Papers, Ax 325, Box 1 Folder 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  46 “Letter to Judge Rucker,” 1910, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  47 Victor Hurley, Blades in the Sun, unpublished manuscript, 79. Located in Charles Wellington Furlong Papers, Ax 698, Box 7 Folder 3, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 	 18	level of civilization to that of a pet, something that possessed enough intelligence to be trained but that ultimately remained an animal.   The creation of the Philippine Constabulary came at a time when the colonial government had also begun to establish the formal foundations of American science in the Islands and it invested a great deal of resources into scientific research in the Islands.  Indeed, in 1918 the Director of Bureau of Science, Alvin J. Cox, declared that “[p]robably no government other than that of the Philippine Islands supports a so-called Bureau of Science,” at least in name, and that all governments “refer to the Philippine Government as one where…the scientific work has been done efficiently, as it should be.”48  Serious anthropological work began early on in the American administration.  The Philippine Commission’s establishment of the Constabulary coincided with the creation of the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, which the colonial government tasked with “the investigation of the little known… tribes of the Archipelago, the conduct of systematic work in the anthropology of the Philippines, and the recommendation of legislation in behalf of these uncivilized peoples.”49  Organized under the Department of the Interior, the Bureau had jurisdiction over “all matters pertaining to the non-Christian tribes, which [constituted], roughly speaking, an eighth of the population of the Philippines.”50  Since many on the mainland, officials and public alike, equated the population of the Philippines with the ‘savage’ non-Christian tribes, the research conducted by the Bureau played an important role in determining American perceptions of the Philippines.  While some colonial officials had doubts about the Bureau’s importance in American governance, in 1906 the colonial government recognized the Bureau’s 																																																								48 Alvin J. Cox, The Philippine Bureau of Science, Bureau of Science Press Bulletin No. 87 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1918), 1.  49 David P. Barrows, The Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes for the Philippines Islands: Circular of Information, 3.  50 Worcester, The Philippines, Past and Present, 10.  	 19	scientific importance when it renamed it the Ethnological Survey and transferred it, along with other science-focused departments, to the Bureau of Science.    A key player in the first decade and a half of American rule in the Philippines was Secretary of the Interior, Dean C. Worcester.  A zoologist by training, and a professor at the University of Michigan, Dean Worcester may seem to have been an unlikely candidate for the role of the longest serving colonial official in the American-administered Philippine Islands.  What set Worcester apart from other would-be officials, however, was that he was able to claim a degree of expertise on the Islands.  Where many Americans had never heard of the small Southeast-Asian archipelago, Worcester had had the opportunity to visit the Philippines in the late 1880s, during his undergraduate years, as part of a zoological expedition and again from 1890-93.51  Worcester’s comparative expertise on the Philippines led President McKinley to appoint him a member of the Schurman Commission, a body established to gather information and report on the United States’ new possessions in the archipelago, and later to the Philippine Commission.52   Colonial officials had expressed a need for an information-gathering body in the Philippines early on in the American occupation.  In the very first annual Report of the Philippine Commission, Worcester wrote that there existed “a lamentable lack of accurate information as to the non-Christian tribes of the Philippines.”53  The information Worcester desired mattered for a multitude of reasons.  On the most practical level, gathering information on the various peoples who inhabited the United States’ new possessions would help the Commission to govern the Islands more effectively, which would help both municipal police forces in urban areas and the 																																																								51 Mark Rice, Dean Worcester’s Fantasy Islands: Photography, Film, and Colonial Philippines (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2014), 4-5.  52 Ibid., 16.  53 Worcester, “Report of the Secretary of the Interior,” Report of the Philippine Commission, 1901 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1902), 35-36.  	 20	Philippine Constabulary police in disparate provinces.  Indeed, McCoy observes the importance of intelligence gathering and information technologies in the creation of a modern police force in the Islands, something which proved “crucial to the U.S. pacification of the Philippines.”54 Constabulary use of the information generated by the Bureau went far beyond simple identification and location of those opposed to American rule.  As we shall see, Constabulary officers carried with them a working understanding of anthropological theory, which informed their day-to-day interactions with the peoples under their jurisdiction.    A secondary, if not overtly stated, purpose for the Commission’s sponsorship of racial science in the Philippines was that the information the Bureau gathered would provide ample scientific support to those who argued for the necessity of the American civilizing project.  Worcester believed that both “non-Christian tribes” and Christianized Filipinos were racially incapable of self-government, the former savage and the latter incorrigibly corrupt, and purposefully manipulated photographs and accounts of the peoples of the Islands to support this claim.55  As Mark Rice demonstrates, Worcester deliberately manipulated the meanings of his anthropological photography for his own political gain, perhaps most deliberately in the case of the “Igorot Sequence.”56  These two projects were intimately connected.  By using information generated by a project explicitly designed to highlight difference between Filipinos and their American tutors, government in the Philippines could not help but absorb these ideas into its structures and practices, which served to reify the conclusions reached by anthropologists.   Both the colonial government and the larger public easily digested such arguments, as practitioners of racial science such as Worcester and Barrows were working within the already-existing anthropological frameworks established by ‘experts’ on the mainland.  Indeed, American 																																																								54 Alfred W. McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 16. 55 Balce, Body Parts of Empire.  56 Rice, “His Name Was Don Francisco Moro,” 51.  	 21	ideas about the nature of the non-Christian tribes of the Philippines, and the policy decisions the Philippine Commission made based on them, closely mirrored their relationship with indigenous populations on the mainland.  Anthropologists and ethnographers in the Philippines understood their line of work to be connected with similar bodies back home.  As Barrows wrote in a manual for volunteer field workers, “the practical duties also entrusted to it of investigation of the material condition of these wild peoples… affiliate its efforts with those of the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs,” an affiliation reflected in the instructions and arguments Barrows detailed in the manual.57  For example, Barrows’ assertion that the nasal index was “one of the most significant and important characters in physical anthropology,” and his observation of the differences between the nasal indexes of the white races and the yellow and black races, took place within a discipline already informed by beliefs about indigenous peoples in the continental United States.58  Barrows himself had had ample opportunity to refine these ideas through his previous anthropological work and his study of Native Americans back on the mainland.59    Indeed, the connection between physical appearance and civilizational capacity was apparent to colonial anthropologists.  In the circular, Barrows instructed field workers that, “Frequently in the same tribe there will be found to be more than one type,” and specifically tasked volunteers to “notice if the different types occupy any different social position, or appear to differ in intelligence.”60  One tribe that elicited particular interest was the ‘Negritos,’ described in a U.S. Senate document as “physically, weaklings of low stature, with black skin, closely-curling hair, flat nose, thick lips, and large, clumsy feet.”61  Tellingly, this Senate document appeared to base much, if not all, of its evaluation of Negrito culture on the tribe’s physical 																																																								57 Barrows, Circular of Information: Instructions for Volunteer Field Workers, 1.  58 Ibid., 11.  59 Rice, Dean Worcester’s Fantasy Islands, 24.  60 Ibid., 12.  61 Lodge, The Philippine Islands, 7.  	 22	appearance and its non-conformance to a style of living the United States had accepted as ‘modern.’  For the Senate, the fact that the Negritos wandered “almost naked through the forests, and lived on fruits, tubers, and such game as they can bring down with their bows and poisoned arrows” pointed clearly to the Negritos’ incapacity for civilization.62  The Senate report concluded that “[i]n the matter of intelligence they stand at or near the bottom of the human series, and they are believed to be incapable of any considerable degree of civilization or advancement.”63  As a mediator between the American public and the formal anthropology practiced on the Islands, the Senate’s views of the non-Christian tribes’ civilizational capacity carried a great deal of weight in shaping American understanding of, and thus policy in, the Philippine Islands.   Karl Hutterer writes that the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes was important as a government institution that was “designed to support and carry out systematic anthropological research in addition to some applied work.”64  As Hutterer observes, Secretary of the Interior Worcester “applied anthropological work in terms of legislation and the protection of non-Christian ethnic groups” and was widely involved with the actions of the colonial government as a whole.65  However, as anthropology was still very much in its infancy, many officials expressed scepticism at the value of Worcester’s numerous projects.66  As such, many of the most significant influences of anthropology in colonial governance manifested not from the efforts of high-level officials like Worcester, but through racial science’s collaboration with colonial policing.   																																																								62 Lodge, The Philippine Islands, 7-8.  63 Lodge, The Philippine Islands, 7.  64 Karl Hutterer, “Dean C. Worcester and Philippine Anthropology,” Philippines Quarterly of Culture and Society 26, no. ½ (1998), 55.  65 Ibid., 43-44.  66 Rice, Dean Worcester’s Fantasy Islands, 30.  	 23	A series of both formal and informal practices and policies tied the Philippine Constabulary and the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, and Constabulary officers had ample opportunity to interact with anthropological theory.  Formally, the presence of the Constabulary in remote areas in the Islands provided both professional and would-be ethnographers working for the Bureau access to the groups they were most interested in.67 Constabulary reports on the provinces under their control, containing detailed observations of subject peoples, likewise aided the efforts of anthropologists.68  Informally, Constabulary officers collected photographs, kept journals, and sent letters home to loved ones describing their adventures.  In doing so they participated in an exchange of anthropological information and assumptions not unlike the reports provided by the Bureau to the American government.  While civilians also kept records and wrote books for a mainland population hungry for information about its new possessions, Constabulary officers’ engagement is all the more significant because of the role the force played in the day-to-day governance of the Islands and the power that officers had to apply their new knowledge in the field.      The Constabulary also directly facilitated the collection of data outside of the Bureau and the colonial government.  In a 1913 letter to Major Henry Gilsheuser, Director of the Constabulary H.H. Bandholtz wrote that Mr. Burton Holmes, a celebrated lecturer and author of travelogues, was accompanying him on his visit to Major Gilsheuser’s camp, for the purposes of “acquiring data and taking numerous photographs and moving pictures of Philippine life and 																																																								67 For example, Alfred McCoy writes of a 1902 expedition led by the chief of the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, David P. Barrows, that contained two anthropologists and twenty Constabulary constables.  McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 219.  68 The Constabulary had jurisdiction over all provinces controlled by the civil government, which, by 1908, included nearly all provinces, with the exception of the Moro Province which remained under military rule.   Worcester, The Philippines Past and Present, 560.  	 24	scenery.”69  Bandholtz continued that he “should like to have some of your Moro soldiers in shape to be drilled and photographed for moving pictures.”70  The casual tone of Bandholtz’s letter, and the numerous photographs of the enlisted men of the Constabulary, suggests that this was not an uncommon request.  Holmes was not the only person interested in recording the “savage” tribes of the Philippines; indeed, in National Geographic photographs of the Philippines “helped create and popularize the magazine’s ethnographic aesthetic.”71  As we shall see in the next section, Constabulary officers’ involvement in these processes not only profoundly shaped their understanding of their role in the American colonial project, but allowed the nascent profession of anthropology to directly impact colonial governance and American empire.            																																																								69 “Letter from Bandholtz to Gilsheuser,” 1913, Henry Gilsheuser Papers, Ax 325, Box 1 Folder 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 70 Ibid. 71 Additionally, as Mark Rice has demonstrated, the National Geographic played an important role in the American imperial project in the Philippines.  Mark Rice, Dean Worcester’s Fantasy Islands, 82.  	 25	“Being a Constable Among the Moros”72  In 1909, Harold Elarth received confirmation of his acceptance into the National Geographic Society, an event that he deemed memorable enough to be included in his scrapbook for that year.73  While Elarth’s decision to include his certificate in a scrapbook documenting his Constabulary adventures may seem odd, nestled as it was between narrative accounts of combat and photographs of the Islands, its presence was not as out of place as it may seem.  Elarth’s membership in the National Geographic Society has great significance in providing insight into the type of men who enlisted in the Constabulary and what their role in the Philippines meant to them.  Elarth’s certificate indicates that he understood himself as a part of a scientific undertaking in the Philippines and, by extension, as a key player in the construction of a scientifically informed colonial government.  While the Constabulary’s close relationship with the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes facilitated officers’ access to anthropological theory and method, it was also a particular kind of man, a self-fashioned gentleman explorer, who was motivated to serve in the Philippines.  Personal recollections and memorabilia like Elarth’s National Geographic certificate help to reveal the personal motivations and beliefs of the men who became officers of the Philippine Constabulary.  By extension, they also reveal the power of the partnership between racial science and policing to determine the ways in which colonials on the ground carried out the more esoteric ideals of American governance in the Islands.     Describing the role of American manhood in the Spanish-American War, the late John Pettegrew observed that,  																																																								72 “Newspaper clipping,” Charles Wellington Furlong Papers, Ax698, Box 7, Folder 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  73 “National Geographic Society Certificate,” in 1909 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  	 26	The war was an extremely self-referential moment for American manhood.  As young men from across the country came together to venture overseas, they spent considerable time and effort describing who they were, how they compared to each other, and, once they bonded, how they compared to the enemy.74  Fresh from the army, former soldiers carried these lessons with them to the Constabulary. As an institution born from defensive necessity, the Constabulary retained many of the characteristics of a formal military institution in the Victorian era.  As Donald J. Mrozek observes, while the turn of the century brought rapid change, military institutions’ “substantial separation from the swift turns of civilian fashion and custom allowed them a much greater potential for continuity.”75  This meant that the Constabulary and its officers still retained many romantic nineteenth century conceptions of the gentleman adventurer, even while situated in an era where technological developments in areas such as statistical and visual data management led to a more scientifically-informed method of policing.76 As Mrozek writes, in the mind of the Victorian military man activities geared towards personal development “were not ‘extras’ added on… all were elements of duty for the whole man.”77  Since “Victorian manliness was not mere brute strength and unrestricted will, it was equally as important to develop the sense of restraint, to instill an instinct for balance and to cultivate the habit of grace under pressure.”78  Thus, perhaps even more than their civilian counterparts, Constabulary officers sought out opportunities for self-edification.  One such method of self-improvement was to take part in American knowledge production in the Islands.  As McCoy observes, Constabulary officers were “encouraged to 																																																								74 John Pettegrew, Brutes in Suits: Male Sensibility in America, 1890-1920 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007), 218.  75 Donald J. Mrozek, “The Habit of Victory: the American military and the cult of manliness,” in Manliness and morality: Middle-class masculinity in Britain and America, 1800-1940, eds. J.A. Mangan and James Walvin (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1987), 221.  76 McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 21-22.   77 Mrozek, “The Habit of Victory,” 231.  78 Ibid., 224.  	 27	master the language of their native troops,” and to become acquainted with the customs of the men under their command.79  However, rather than considering scientific observation and reporting as simply a part of the job, many Constabulary officers took pride in their scientific and anthropological study, and laid claim to the role of gentleman explorers in addition to their duties as law enforcement officers.   Since, as Mary Furner observes, at the end of the nineteenth century “it became clear that people who established their ability to study society scientifically would command attention and influence the course of events,” engaging in scientific study allowed officers to imagine themselves a more significant part of the American empire.80 At a basic level Constabulary officers shared collectors’ instincts, and many of them amassed photographs, artefacts, and specimens of wildlife from their time in the Philippines.81  A consequence of Constabulary officers’ situation between the romance of the nineteenth century and the scientific realism of the twentieth this collector’s instinct largely originated, as McClintock observes, in the “middle class Victorian fixation with origins, with genesis narratives, with archaeology, skulls and fossils” which was “replete with the fetishistic compulsion to collect and exhibit that shaped the muse imaginaire of middle class empiricism.”82  Officers carefully recorded their findings in journals and scrapbooks, sent souvenirs home to their families on the mainland, and published accounts of their time on the Islands for the public at large.  One officer even took great pride in his collection of “knives, barongs, and spears which had killed or wounded his men and a huge club with which the pirate chief of Manuk Manka 																																																								79 McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 87.  80 Mary O. Furner, Advocacy and Objectivity: A Crisis in the Professionalization of American Social Science, 1865-1905 (Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 1975), 1.  81 “Personal Journal, 1910,” John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 82 McClintock, Imperial Leather, 40.  	 28	Island had been beaten to death.”83  While these practices may seem unremarkable, as Gosden and Knowles write, “[c]ollecting cannot be understood as an isolated activity, but one which was deeply embedded in the overall set of colonial relations pertaining at the time.”84  More importantly, through these actions Constabulary officers were able to contribute to the American imperial experiment in ways far beyond the official duties of their office, and to see themselves as crucial actors in the American occupation of the Philippines.  Collection did not necessarily have to involve physical objects.  Constabulary officers collected stories of foes battled, plots thwarted, and subordinates tamed. Recounting a night spent with a fellow officer, Colonel John R. White wrote, “we wandered on from story to story of fights and feasts, of birds and brutes – human and animal.”  His description placed the human and animal inhabitants of the Islands on the same level, both fair game for the collector and amateur scientist.85   Elarth similarly collected stories about the peoples he encountered in the Islands, often written in ways that demonstrated the influence of racial anthropological thought of the period.  In one account, Elarth described the Subanos, a non-Christian people in the Islands, as “extremely primitive” and observed that “those in the interior often wore no clothing and lived much as did mankind in the prehistoric eras.”86  In another he wrote of a subordinate whose “eyes were shot with red – a dire sign in a member of the Malay race.”87    																																																								83 “Personal Journal, 1910,” John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  84 Gosden, Chris and Chantal Knowles, Collecting Colonialism: Material Culture and Colonial Change (Oxford; New York: Berg, 2001), 9.  85 Indeed, writing of Constabulary action in the Islands White observed that “we felt, after we chased an outlaw chief for a few months through the jungle, a spirit of not unfriendly competition,” indicating the officers’ sense of sport in the hunt for both stories and people.  “Personal Journal, 1910,” John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon; White, Bullets and Bolos, 13. 86 “Tucuran,” in 1906-1911 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  87 “Red Eyes,” in 1906-1911 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 	 29	While some of Elarth’s accounts were comparatively superficial, many demonstrated a strong anthropological focus and echoed the formal language present in Constabulary and Philippine Commission reports. In one monograph, Elarth examined at length what the American colonial government generally called “the Moro problem,” the difficulties in governing a people who lived in the more remote provinces.88   He wrote, “The difficulties of the Philippine problem were chiefly political.  The difficulties of the Moro problem are physical.”89  Elarth contended that the Moro’s “social condition is essentially different from ours, and this difference is not in degree or in shape, it is a difference in kind,” and continued on to give a detailed description of Moro history and characteristics.90  Elarth’s account demonstrated his awareness of anthropological theory regarding these tribes and gives insight into the ways in which these theories informed American ideas of racial hierarchy in the Islands.  Indeed, Elarth’s identification of an innate civilizational deficiency in the Moro peoples rooted in their physical characteristics mirrored the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes’ connection of physical appearance and character.91   While the prospect of self-cultivation provided more than enough motivation for Constabulary officers’ scientific study of the peoples of the Philippines, an understanding of anthropology also guided officers in their roles as commanders.  While anyone could see the civilizational gap between white Americans and members of the non-Christian tribes, the Constabulary officer’s status as a virile, yet manly scientist/explorer further set him apart from the peoples under his watchful eye.  Better trained in the advancements of civilization, the 																																																								88 “Moros,” in 1904-4 Scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   89 “The Moro Problem,” Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, Ax 286, Box 1, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 90 Ibid. 91 Barrows, Circular of Information, 10.  	 30	Constabulary officer could use this knowledge to resolve disputes that, in less-civilized hands, would result in violence.  Recounting a confrontation between a group of Moros and Colonel White, Elarth wrote, “Perceiving the futility of demanding obedience by a show of arms, White used his knowledge of psychology to talk the hostile Moros out of their obvious intentions of settling the case by the law of the bolo.”92  White’s dual knowledge of Western science and the psychological traits of the non-Christian tribes allowed him to set a civilized example to both the Moros under his command and those whom his company confronted.   Like White, Elarth endeavoured to obtain as much information as he could about the customs and practices of the peoples under his command, and in his writings he demonstrated knowledge in such subjects the Luwaran, the code of law of the Mindanao Moros.  Indeed, Elarth prided himself on his unique understanding of the Moro people.  Describing what he considered the characteristics of the Moros, Elarth wrote that while “most of them, it is true, are uncultured, uncivilized, almost primeval,” these qualities made “them more easy to understand.”93  Indeed, with Elarth’s heightened understanding of the Moros, he could tell that the Moro was “not really treacherous – it is merely that his code of ethics differs from ours; not inscrutable – he is simply untutored and inarticulate.”94  Such charitable conclusions were the result of Elarth’s scientifically-informed study of the peoples of the Philippines and directly impacted decisions Elarth made in the field.  Recounting his dealings with a young member of a band of outlaws that had killed his brother, Elarth wrote, “Was it really obligatory that he too, the last of his tribe, pay 																																																								92 “The Importance of Psychology,” in 1904-5 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 93 “The Moros,” in 1904-5 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 94 Ibid. 	 31	the penalty for resisting the march of civilization?”95  Armed with the surety that he was bringing civilization to the backwards peoples of the Islands, Elarth sanctimoniously pardoned the man, commanding him to “hereafter live in peace.”96 Of course, it was not always so easy for Constabulary officers to determine what place in the civilizational hierarchy the non-Christian tribes occupied.  The domestic defense of the Philippine American War, as Paul Kramer observes, promoted “U.S. racialization of both Americans and Filipinos,” which cast Filipino combatants as savage.97  At the same time, discourses of tutelage and benevolent empire necessitated the transformation of the non-Christian tribesman into a docile receptor of American civilization.98  Constabulary officers occupied a unique position with regard to the non-Christian tribes’ savagery/docility.  As people who both fought against the peoples of the Islands, and who also at various times commanded them and felt affection for them, officers engaged with both of images of the Philippines, often at once.  As White recollected in his memoirs, “we felt, after we had chased an outlaw chief for a few months through the jungle, a spirit of not unfriendly competition.”99  This passage portrays the outlaw chief as someone who is undoubtedly ‘savage’ and violent, yet at the same time White envisioned him as a friend with whom he was playing a light-hearted game.  Constabulary officers’ beliefs in the benefits of American government gave them, in their minds, a critical role in civilizing the men under their command, and racial science provided officers with the intellectual tools to navigate both of these ‘realities.’  Anne McClintock 																																																								95 “Life Taken: Life Given,” in 1912-1915 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   96 Ibid.   97 The United States used the Filipino Army’s adoption of guerilla warfare as proof of this.  Paul Kramer, “Race, Empire, and Transnational History,” 204-5.  98 At the same time, the colonial government posited the Filipino masses as backwards and the elite as corrupt and exploitative.  Kramer, “Race, Empire, and Transnational History,” 206.    99 White, Bullets and Bolos, 13. 	 32	observes that “[s]ocial evolutionism and anthropology… gave to politics and economics a concept of natural time as familial,” where “[h]istorical progress is naturalized as an evolving family.”100  As McClintock observes, for racial science the family “offered an indispensible figure for sanctioning social hierarchy within a putative organic unity of interests.”101  Indeed, many officers viewed the relationship between officers and enlisted men in familial terms, and accounts of Constabulary life portray the relationship between officers and their enlisted men as highly paternalistic. In describing the Moro soldiers under his command, Elarth observed:  “The relationship between the Moro solider and his company officers was intensely personal; his obedience and loyalty were to them only, and his company commander was his father – a father whose word was law, and whose orders he was ready to carry out to a point which sometimes would startle that officer himself.  But only to his American officers would the Moro soldier give this loyalty.”102  Elarth’s account of native enlistment had the officers of the Constabulary mirroring the caretaking one might do for one’s child: “Upon enlistment the semi-civilized tribesman was first thoroughly bathed, given a hair-cut; then he was clothed in a khaki uniform piped in the famous ‘Constabulary Red.’ On his head was placed a red fez and on his feet a pair of shoes, the first shoes his feet had ever known.”103  In so portraying the Moro soldier, Elarth emphasized the child-like helplessness of the Moros pre-American intervention, his account portraying them as passive receptors of benevolent American civilization.  At the same time, however, as McClintock writes, projecting “the family image onto national and imperial progress enabled what was often murderously violent change to be 																																																								100 McClintock, Imperial Leather, 38-39.  101 Ibid., 45.  102 “Moros,” in 1904-4 Scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   103 “Our Moro Soldiers,” in 1904-5 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 	 33	legitimized as the progressive unfolding of natural degree.”104  As convinced by the merit of their civilizing mission as they were, Constabulary officers nevertheless retained a sense of the violence that underlay their project.  Elarth recounted this underlying violence in a monograph entitled “Bayonets Versus Fists.”  Charged with commanding a group of Malay soldiers, who “when not in the field against the common enemy, were continually fighting among themselves,” Elarth decided to channel the violent energies of his men into boxing, that most strenuously noble of American pastimes in the early twentieth century.105  Pleased with the progress of his men after a couple of training sessions, Elarth decided to allow them to hit hard in the final round of a lesson, which, according to Elarth, was a “mistake which might easily have had serious consequences.”106 After “absorbing a left to the jaw” from one of his sergeants that took him aback, Elarth wrote that,  “I saw that his eyes were gleaming with primitive passion.  I sensed, immediately, that the relationship of officer and sergeant had ceased; that it had become a battle between two fighting men.  To be knocked out, I realized, or even to be knocked down, would destroy a measure – possibly a dangerous measure – of my authority over these half-civilized soldiers.  At this isolated Post where I was the only officer, such a loss of prestige might be extremely serious.”107     Elarth’s account demonstrates the perception that even when tribesmen were on their best behaviour, their true racial qualities always simmered just below the surface, and control of the company depended on the show of strength by the manly white American officer.  The story also demonstrates the sense of the tenuousness of American power in the Islands that officers felt in 																																																								104 McClintock, Imperial Leather, 45.  105 “Bayonets Versus Fists,” in 1906-1911 Scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH122, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   106 Ibid. 107 “Bayonets Versus Fists,” in 1906-1911 Scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH122, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   	 34	their roles, despite their belief in the racial science that justified their civilizing mission.  For Elarth, the lesson of the boxing bout was that “such violent contacts frequently seem[ed] to settle personal grievances between them [the soldiers],” and he “used this knowledge again and again during my service among these Malay’s.”108 However, even though the tribesmen’s true nature could not be completely eradicated, officers still believed that their guidance could remedy much of the enlisted men’s civilizational deficiencies.  As Colonel John White wrote, a “[l]ack of arms and ammunition, improper uniforms, inadequate food and supplies, all mattered little as long as those small brown men believed in el capitan.”109  This perceived dependence gave officers a clear sense of the importance of their role in the Philippines.  As one officer proudly recollected, “it was the Philippines Constabulary which made possible the success attending the American administration of the Islands [sic].”110  In turn, through the examination of officers’ scientifically informed beliefs and practices, it is possible to see the ways in which racial sciences like anthropology shaped and made possible the success of the Philippine Constabulary.  While anthropology may not have been able to determine colonial policy on a more formal level, it could influence the day-to-day governance undertaken throughout the Islands by officers of the Constabulary.      																																																								108 “Bayonets Versus Fists,” in 1906-1911 Scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH122, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   109 White, Bullets and Bolos, 37.  110 “What of the Original Philippine Constabulary?,” article, Maurice P. Alger Papers, Ax477, Box 1, Folder 3, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  	 35	Colonel John R. White and the Practical Implications of Anthropology in the Philippines   As we have seen, in their work with various departments of the colonial administration, Constabulary officers exerted a profound influence over colonial governance, allowing their anthropological understandings to more deeply shape the ways in which the ideological foundations of American empire found expression on the ground in the Philippines.  The career of John R. White is especially demonstrative of how officers’ understanding of racial science informed their day-to-day work as representatives of American empire.  White spent thirteen years in the Constabulary and occupied a number of positions within the colonial government, which allowed his beliefs to directly impact the exercise of American power over local peoples.  Although he was English-born, White served in the American army, later obtaining American citizenship, and enlisted in the Constabulary after the end of the Spanish-American War, eventually achieving the rank of colonel.111   Characterizing the work of the Constabulary as “both hazardous and constructive,” in his memoirs White painted a romantic picture of the brave feats of American officers in the Islands, firmly placing himself within the role of the manly, gentleman explorer.112  White’s claim to this role stemmed in part from his interest, shared by many of his colleagues, in the natural sciences and his knack for collecting both animal specimens and knowledge of the peoples of the Philippines.113 An avid bird collector, White also dedicated time to activities, such as gardening, that he believed would provide a good example for his less-civilized, less-industrious 																																																								111 White, Bullets and Bolos, 9.  112 Ibid., xiii.  113 White often wrote about his efforts to gather interesting bird and animal specimens while in the Philippines and of his discussions with fellow aficionados.  “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 	 36	neighbours.114  These activities not only afforded White pleasure, but also demonstrated the collectors’ instinct shared by many officers and the common belief that native inhabitants, like children, would follow the lead of their white, American ‘fathers.’   While in the Philippines, White found ample opportunity to cultivate these interests as, like other officers, his position in the Constabulary gave him the opportunity to interact with all levels of Filipino society, enabling him to discuss and refine his ideas with people who had an intimate knowledge of the Islands.115  These relationships gave White the opportunity to formulate sophisticated ideas about race and the necessity of American empire in the Philippines.  In his journals and other writings, White revealed himself to be well versed in contemporary anthropological theory and other sciences germane to colonial governance, and he expressed special interest in fields such as penology.116  Indeed, throughout his career, White prided himself in basing his opinions and actions on observation and contemporary scientific and anthropological theory. In his memoir, Bullets and Bolos, published several years after his retirement from the Constabulary, White recounted the ethnic and social makeup of the Islands in meticulous detail, demonstrating both his interest and his proficiency in the subject.  Well-versed in contemporary sciences like Darwinian theory, White framed many of his observances of the Philippines through this scientific lens.117  White, likening many of the Island’s tribes to his very distant ancestors, saw the development of civilization as a necessarily slow process, reflecting that “[i]t behoves me not to attempt to too rapidly bridge the gulf – the 10000 year gulf – between them and modern 																																																								114 “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  115 White, Bullets and Bolos, 55.  116 “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 117 Ibid. 	 37	civilization.”118  White’s knowledge of the peoples of the Philippines led him to conclude that should American control of the Philippines be relinquished too soon, “the population would probably divide among the above lines” and that it would be “likely that bloodshed and disorder would often result.”119  He concluded that “[c]ertain it is that the longer American control is exercised the greater will be the fusion of classes brought about by improved communications, by the public school system, and by common friendly participation in government enforced by Uncle Sam.”120  White’s opinions had practical implications for American governance in the Islands.  As a Constabulary officer, White was able to interact in a policing capacity in the ways observed above.  However, unlike many other officers, White was not only able to feel himself a part of the American imperial project, he was also able to engage directly with the colonial government’s formal institutions on a number of different levels.  Throughout his tenure in the Constabulary, White was often in the company of high-level members of the Philippine Commission, cultivating friendships with men such as Governor General Forbes and future Philippine president Sergio Osmeña, and accompanying officials like Worcester and director of health Victor G. Heiser on expeditions throughout the Islands.121  Indeed, White wrote that good fortune and hard work had led him to be “noticed by the Governor General, socially and officially, in a manner which has fallen to the lot of no other Constabulary officer.”122  While White did not always agree with the opinions and motives of these men, their company offered him the opportunity to refine his ideas about the nature of civilization in the Philippines.  																																																								118 “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 119 White, Bullets and Bolos, 41.  120 Ibid., 41.  121 “Personal Journal, 1910,” John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 122 Ibid. 	 38	While White’s experience was not wholly unique - as McCoy observes, Constabulary officers did sometimes fill governorship positions in the special provinces - White’s description of his time in the Philippines in his personal journals allow us insight into White’s understanding and use of contemporary anthropological theory in a way that cannot be gleaned from the official records of the Constabulary.  As such, his recollections provide not just a means to understand how officers of the Constabulary employed scientific language to understand their role as colonial agents, but also a way to see how these personal beliefs had actual political implications in the Islands.  At different times, White was in charge of the penal colony at Iwahig on Palawan Island, director of the Constabulary School at Baguio, and Acting Governor of the Province of Agusan, among a number of other administrative roles.  White’s interaction with these classic sites of imperial power reveals the manners in which a Constabulary officer could directly shape the forms colonial governance took.  In a memoir chapter titled “From Warrior to Warden,” White recounted his appointment as the warden of the Iwahig penal colony in 1906, an opportunity that he described as “an importance piece of work at a considerable increase in salary.”123  Similar to other colonies like Culion, the colonial government intended the penal colony to be a place of rehabilitation for Filipino convicts that could exemplify its vision of the Philippines’ gradual uplift under the tutelage of upright American leadership and example.  As Warwick Anderson observes in the case of the Culion leper colony, at these sites the “rituals of modern citizenship, closely bonded to therapeutic protocols” pervaded.124  Indeed, White wrote that at the colony “discipline was maintained by moral rather than physical force.”125  There were few Americans other than White present in the colony; instead, the “most trustworthy prisoners and those who had most to gain by 																																																								123 White, Bullets and Bolos, 315.  124 Anderson, Colonial Pathologies, 171.  125 White, Bullets and Bolos, 326.  	 39	good conduct” had responsibility over their fellow colonists.126  The colony’s American administrators divided prisoners into four grades: new arrivals were placed in the fourth grade and “after a definite period in each grade, and providing their conduct was good, worked upward.”127  As with many of its other plans, the colonial government based its plans for the penal colony in contemporary scientific theory gleaned from similar undertakings on the mainland.  Specifically, White wrote that the colonial government based the project on the George Junior Republic, a “self-governing institution of previously refractory boys in New York State.”128   According to White, W. Cameron Forbes, then secretary of commerce and police and future governor general of the Philippines, believed that “if Filipinos were capable of self-government in their municipalities they might be trusted under certain restrictions to govern themselves in a penal colony.”129  In his study of Iwahig Penal Colony Michael Salman writes that “[i]f the George Junior Republic was a ‘laboratory of democracy,’ then Iwahig was the same for colonialism.”130 Salman observes the “extraordinary freedom that American colonials had to conduct bold social experiments that were…blocked by countervailing social and political forces back home in the United States.”131  Indeed, as superintendent, White was very much aware of 																																																								126 “‘Cam’ Forbes’s Prison Reform,” Newspaper clipping, 1913.  John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 19 Folder 8, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  127 Ibid.  128 In doing so, White equated the peoples of the Philippines to the children in the institution. White, Bullets and Bolos, 316.  129 Ibid., 316.  130 Michael Salman, “The Prison That Makes Men Free: The Iwahig Penal Colony and the Simulacra of the American State in the Philippines” in Colonial Crucible: Empire in the Making of the Modern American State, eds. Alfred W. McCoy and Francisco A. Scarano (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009), 125.  131 McCoy, “Part II Introduction: Police, Prisons, and Law Enforcement,” in Colonial Crucible, 84.  	 40	his role in this imperial laboratory.  He referred to the colony as an “experiment in penology,” and relished the opportunity for both study and action in the Islands.132      As such, White’s own work in the penal colony was self-consciously informed by contemporary scientific and medical theory.133 In Bullets and Bolos, White described himself as pouring over medical texts so as to address the problems of disease in the colony and as engaging in discussion about tropical sanitation with Victor G. Heiser, the director of health for the colonial government.134  Similarly, White wrote of the camp physician with whom he had established “a friendship and mutual confidence,” who, knowing White’s interest in science, would call him in to observe interesting autopsies.  White likewise kept a watchful eye on his still-living charges, writing in one instance that it “was fascinating to mark the daily physical improvement in the colonist-convicts” after he introduced a number of disease-prevention measures.135  Indeed, it appears that White’s scientifically-informed improvements in the colony were a success; Salman observes that material conditions improved under White’s direction, with mortality rates dropping due to measures such as a more varied diet and better sanitation.136  However, White’s scientific study of his charges extended beyond simply following the instructions of formal scientific literature and medical examination. At Iwahig, White was further able to indulge his penchant for identification and classification, as his position required him to determine which colonists could be trusted and which posed a threat to order. White’s position as superintendent allowed him to delve much deeper into the lives of his charges than might otherwise have been possible and the inquisitive nature of a self-fashioned scientist led him to do so.  As he wrote, “[a]s I had at night much time on my hands, I occupied it in part by diving into 																																																								132 White, Bullet and Bolos, 332.  133 Ibid., 323.  134 Ibid., 318.  135 Ibid., 324.  136 Salman, “The Prison That Makes Men Free,” 121.  	 41	the prisoners’ records.”137  As White’s detailed 1908 report to the Director of the Bureau of Prisons demonstrates, he had access to a great deal of information about the inhabitants of the colony, including the provinces from which they came, their former employments, and their marital status.138   Where in Culion, as Anderson observes, “medical facts and social potential were amalgamated,” in Iwahig it was ethnographic data and observation that White compounded with social potential.  Such a combination could be quite powerful.  Indeed, White described himself as “a little Czar at Iwahig” as the power he possessed to “recommend a man for pardon or to return him to Bilibid Prison was almost that of life and death.”139 White’s observational skills and knowledge of contemporary ethnography aided him in determining, in his words, who ‘lived’ or who ‘died.’  White was, for instance, particularly pleased with his aid to three “worthy old Ilocano peasants” serving life sentences for murder.140  Observing that they were “honest-appearing,” White gained the men’s confidence and “uncovered a story which reference to the official records disclosed as true.”141  An educated Filipino politician in Aguinaldo’s army had coerced the unarmed peasants into beating an alleged ‘Americanista’ to death, and where the civilian government eventually pardoned the major due to political connections, the three peasants remained in Iwahig.142 Following up on his initial observation with careful research into the lives of the inmates through the ethnographic and legal records present in the colony, White felt able to obtain pardon for the peasants. White’s recounting of his benevolence emphasized his 																																																								137 White, Bullets and Bolos, 330.  138 “Report to the Director of the Bureau of Prisons,” 1908, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 19 Folder 8, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   139 White, qtd in Salman, “The Prison That Makes Men Free,” 123.  140 White, Bullets and Bolos, 330.  141 Ibid., 330.  142 White’s story employed one of the common arguments for American retention of the Islands: that should American governance cease, the educated Filipino elite would persecute the non-Christian Tribes.  White, Bullets and Bolos, 331.  	 42	belief in the role of the white American officer as a father figure to the helpless native peoples of the Islands.   While White prided himself on using the information he gathered to overturn unjust convictions in the colony, often his use of information was not so charitable. Of his time in Iwahig, White wrote that “daily inspections of the huts gave me valuable insight into the character of my men.”143  Having identified a “Chinese mestizo Ilocano” prisoner named Singson, a convicted murderer and brigand chief, as a source of the “discontented, semi-insubordinate element” in the colony, White immediately took action to neutralize the threat.144  Surprising Singson during roll call, White slipped a pair of handcuffs on the discomfited convict and had him sent back to Bilibid.  White’s understanding of the racial characteristics of the peoples of the Islands led him to conclude that such action was safe, as “the Filipino is a Malay, and that race is always more impressed by a ‘grandstand’ play than by more solid virtues.”145  Importantly, White based his aid on the outward attributes of his charges.  In his account of the three peasants, were it not for White’s observation that the faces of the men were “honest-appearing,” they would have remained at the prison colony.  Similarly, in describing the man he installed at the head of the colony’s police, White wrote that he possessed a “benevolent face and disposition that belied the statements in his commitment papers,” and that White felt “instinctively [that he] was loyal to me and would lop off a head or two should it become necessary.”146  White’s administrative decisions in the colony were very much rooted in the physical and ethnographical qualities he observed in his charges: an assessment of a man’s countenance and disposition could thus overrule the information given in an official government 																																																								143 White, Bullets and Bolos, 325.  144 Ibid., 325.  145 Ibid., 327.  146 Ibid., 326.  	 43	report and an understanding of the qualities of the “Malay race” could guide risky operations.  For better or worse, White’s ideas of race and civilization empowered his decisions as Czar. White was confident in the colony’s success, but also in his own ability to maintain control over its denizens.  Indeed, he wrote that after a few weeks, the “control of those hundreds of Malayan and half-breed convicts, many of whom were noted brigand chiefs, gave [him] less anxiety than is experienced by the average kindergarten teacher,” again equating the prisoners with children.147  For White, the penal colony demonstrated the promise of American governance in the Philippines.  As he wrote, at the end of their sentences the former prisoners “evidenced a very real affection for and loyalty to their officers” and “above all, they returned to their homes without any feeling of resentment against the government and society.”148  Indeed, in his memoirs White wrote that he was “sure that many a convict now free looks back, as I sometimes do myself, to the good old days at Iwahig.”149 While White’s tenure as superintendent of the penal colony gave him the opportunity to both study and govern prisoners, later positions would give him the authority to shape the Constabulary, and thus colonial governance, itself.  In 1910, after a leave of absence in England and the United States, Constabulary Headquarters assigned White to command the Constabulary School for cadet officers at Baguio, which provided “newly appointed officers with three months’ special instructions before assignment to work in the provinces.”150  In a letter to a friend, White described the school as “the embryo West Point of the Philippines” and while White’s tenure as director of the Constabulary School was comparatively short, spanning from March 1910 to October 1910, like Iwahig his new role offered him a great deal of freedom in his instruction of 																																																								147 White, Bullets and Bolos, 330.  148 Ibid, 330.  149 Ibid., 337.  150 White, Bullets and Bolos, 342; Report of the Philippine Commission to the Secretary of War, 1909-1910 (Washington: Government Print Office, 1910), 127.  	 44	the new recruits.151  The 1909-10 annual report from the Philippine Commission to the War Department recorded that 53 officers attended the school in that year, 43 Americans and 10 Filipinos and the salary information in the 1909-10 annual report only detailed three administrative positions at the School.  As one of the few people employed at the institution, White’s views could influence much of the School’s direction.152   As a classic site of American imperialism in the Philippines more broadly, the institution of the school not only functioned as a centre of instruction for American men and a handful of Filipinos, but also allowed White to envision himself an integral part of colonial rule in the Philippines.  As such, White took his new role very seriously, and imagined himself starting “a new departure in life as a pedagog,” pouring over the curriculum so as to stay ahead of his class.153  White’s relationship to American empire through the School proved mutually beneficial; in his journal, White anticipated that not only would the work be interesting, but that it would also give him “an opportunity to study and improve myself.”154  A true Victorian, White wrote that he especially valued this opportunity and the chance to “brush up old subjects and learn much new and of interest.”155  While school was in session, White taught his pupils subjects such as the organization of the Philippine Government, criminal procedure, and criminal law in the Islands, which increased his own knowledge of these subjects and added to his imperial lexicon.  																																																								151 Letter, 1914, Charles Wellington Furlong Papers, Ax 698, Box 7, Folder 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 152 Report of the Philippine Commission to the Secretary of War, 1909-1910 (Washington: Government Print Office, 1910), 127; Annual Report of the War Department, 1909-10, vol. 4 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1910), 87.  153 “Personal Journal, 1910,” John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  154 Ibid. 155 Ibid. 	 45	As director of the Constabulary school, White’s personal conclusions about the nature of governance in the Philippines directly informed the instruction he gave to the new officers and thus had the potential to shape the form colonial policing would take.  One particularly salient issue was the question of the appropriate amount of force needed to govern the Islands.  While White repeatedly opposed the harsher tactics of long-term military governance throughout his journals, like Elarth he also believed that some degree of violence was permissible and necessary in maintaining control of the peoples of the Islands.156  Recounting a discussion of the new American recruits for the Constabulary, men who apparently lacked the “energy and common sense” of the officers recruited from the army in the organization’s early years, White wrote that “it was better to have men who occasionally went on a ‘tear’ than these… children,” and further added that it was a pity that “virtue and manliness are not more common companions.”157  White’s emphasis on the necessity of strength and his tacit approval of some American officers’ violent actions was a striking contrast to the ways in which he wrote of the indigenous peoples of the Islands elsewhere in his journals, where he often described the native tribes as simplistic, naïve, and easily governed.  The presence of these seemingly opposite ideas in White’s writings and his unease regarding the dichotomy of Filipino docility and savagery speaks to, as Balce writes, the “instabilities and incommensurabilities of American imperialism as a heterogeneous and contradictory language on conquest, race, and sex, a discourse that is ‘internally complex and unstable.’”158  Despite the United States’ best efforts, the Philippine-American War had demonstrated Filipino ability to resist American rule in the Islands and, as Paul Kramer observes, functioned as a race war, a war “in which imperial soldiers came to 																																																								156 “Personal Journal, 1910,” John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 157 Ibid. 158 Balce, Body Parts of Empire, 12.  	 46	understand indigenous combatants in racial terms, one in which race played a key role in bounding and unbounding the means of colonial violence, and in which those means were justified along racial lines.”159  Even after the official hostilities subsided, continued opposition in the form of brigandage further challenged American confidence in the white man’s ability to rule the Islands.  In grappling with the contesting imaginings about Filipino racial capacity and their actual capacity to resist, the writings of American colonials were, like White’s, rife with contradictions.  White’s statement likewise reflected the anxiety surrounding American over-civilization, where intellectuals and the public alike worried about the consequences of the comforts of modern life.160  American fears of diseases such as neurasthenia on the mainland were compounded with the belief in the incompatibility of the white body and the tropical climate of the Islands.  Indeed, despite senior colonial administrators’ confidence in the superiority of American civilization in the Islands, Warwick Anderson has written of the “great vulnerability and tenderness” that they could still discern in themselves while in the tropics, both in their physical bodies and mental apparatuses.161  In order to diffuse what might otherwise be an admission of Filipino strength, at least physically, white colonials were forced to undertake great intellectual labour to turn an apparent weakness into “the cultivation of whiteness and masculinity in American colonial culture.”162  White’s work at the Constabulary School gave him the opportunity not only to engage with these theoretical issues on an esoteric level, but also in a more practical sense.  In using his knowledge of the Philippines and its peoples at the School he 																																																								159 Kramer, The Blood of Government, 89.  160 An anxiety that has been well-described in works such as Gail Bederman’s Manliness and Civilization and Tom Lutz’s American Nervousness, 1903: An Anecdotal History (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991).  161 Anderson, Colonial Pathologies, 130.  162 Ibid.  	 47	was able to guide the training of the future generation of Constabulary officers, adding to and perpetuating the tenets of American racial science in the Islands.   In his role as acting Governor of Agusan, a province located on the second largest island of the Philippines, Mindanao, White had perhaps the greatest opportunity to put his theories into action.  By its very nature, the position of governor gave White a great deal of influence in directly determining provincial policy in Agusan, which allowed him to make high-level decisions about infrastructure, education, and other projects of uplift based on the information he had gathered during his experiences in the Philippines.  In this sense, the stakes of White’s understanding of anthropology and racial development were much higher than in his previous posts.  Where at Iwahig and the Constabulary School White commanded a relatively small settlement of already-convicted inmates and American recruits, respectively, in Agusan White inherited the control of a diverse population to examine and govern accordingly. As such, White’s thoughts and actions as governor allow us insight into the ways in which racial sciences like anthropology could shape one of the higher levels of colonial governance, even in light of its relatively small impact on the decisions of top-level colonial officials.  Appointed by Governor General Forbes to replace a Worcester favourite departing on accrued leave, White was to hold the position until the previous governor returned, or his replacement was found.  White wrote that he was determined to “administer the government with a view to my successor and not to make it depend on my own personality or predilections”: that is, he was determined to govern based on what he considered to be objective, scientific knowledge of the peoples of the Philippines, garnered through study and his own extensive experience in the Islands. 163  In expressing this sentiment, White firmly aligned himself with the 																																																								163 “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  	 48	school of empiricism, revealing his firm belief in the value of strict, scientific observation and experimentation.164  Throughout his tenure in the Constabulary, in his positions at Iwahig and the School as well as commanding native troops more generally, White had, in his mind, honed his ability to carry out this scientific ideal.  As such, White’s intellectual and cultural pedigree meant that he was uniquely placed to install the tenets of racial science, if informally, in the colonial administration.  On his mission to “improve the condition of the country and the people,” White’s actions as Governor were predicated on his conviction that a “civilized human being is really an anachronism here… a few miles or less away, are living savages or semi-savages whose manner of life differs but little from that of my Palaeolithic [sic] ancestors.”165  White described his work as “a hard and thankless task,” as, according to him, the inhabitants of the province were loathe “to form towns or villages and till the soil when scratching in favored spots in the jungle will provide for their wants at much less cost of labor.”166  White observed that the native tribes of the region were indolent and apathetic towards the necessary toils of civilization, preferring leadership that “would leave the people alone to work little and sleep much and not worry them by public improvements such as good roads, clear plazas and streets or other unnecessary toils of civilization.”167  As such, many of his efforts as Governor focussed on introducing what the American government saw as the central pillars of civilized society.  White’s early plans as 																																																								164 In The Crisis of Democratic Theory, Edward A. Purcell wrote of the conflict between proponents of rationalism – the belief that “human reason could discover certain immutable metaphysical principles that explained the true nature of reality” – and empiricism during the early twentieth century.  Those like White believed that only ““concrete, scientific investigation could yield true knowledge… and that knowledge was empirical, particular, and experimentally verifiable.” Purcell, The Crisis of Democratic Theory, 3.  165 “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  166 Ibid.  167 Ibid. 	 49	Governor included the construction of a hospital, a school, and a provincial administration building, all of which would bring modern public health, education, and democratic government to Agusan, whether its inhabitants were amenable to these endeavours or not.  Like many Constabulary officers, White used the language of racial development to frame his role in the province and to situate the Philippines within the greater narrative of civilizational development.  As he wrote:  “In handling this situation I shall need patience, perseverance and perspective: the latter to make me realize that other countries and peoples have passed thru the ‘jungle’ stage; that conditions here are not peculiar or unbearable but part of the whole scheme of world and race development [emphasis my own] slowly grinding on since man first chipped flints in Miocene.”168   Here, White employed a trope that McClintock calls “anachronistic space,” which “reached full authority as an administrative and regulatory technology in the late Victorian era.”169  Within this trope, as McClintock writes, “the agency of women, the colonized and the industrial working class are disavowed and projected onto anachronistic space: prehistoric, atavistic and irrational, inherently out of place in the historical time of modernity.”170  For White, with his understanding of contemporary racial science, the natives of the Islands, in a sense, occupied a place outside of history.  Where in the industrial metropolis the invention of anachronistic space “became central to the discourse of racial science and the urban surveillance of women and the working class,” in the Philippines it became central to the ways in which colonials thought, wrote, and governed in the Islands.   As such, White saw it as only natural that the Americans guide their little brown brothers towards enlightenment, since they belonged to a civilization far behind that of the United States 																																																								168 “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 169 McClintock, Imperial Leather, 40.  170 Ibid., 40.  	 50	in terms of racial, and thus social, progress.  As he claimed, “[i]t is a safe assertion that but for the presence of American officials in these islands, cases of abuse of power by Filipino officials…would be common.”171  White’s assessment of the Islands during his time as governor emphasized what he saw as the indisputable value of American government in the Islands.  As he wrote, “[w]ere the future of the Philippine Islands assured under a white administration I do not know but that I would throw in my lot with Sumilao or vicinity, plant coffee and become a Filipino.”172  Unfortunately, this was not possible unless the Americans did “to the Filipinos as we have done to the Indians – exterminate them; and there are reasons of advancing humanity and climate which make it impossible that we should do that.”173  In writing thus, White revealed that despite his general belief in tutelage and progress, he also likened the native tribes of the Islands to indigenous peoples on the American mainland, too far behind in the historical narrative, or completely outside of it, to be adequately instructed, and therefore best relegated to extinction.  Of course, White’s views were not always in alignment with those of other colonial officials, and tensions did arise regarding the right way to govern the Islands.  Describing Worcester’s reaction to his appointment as Acting Governor, White wrote that Worcester’s first official act was “to write me a 21 page letter assuring me that I knew nothing about the work among the non-Christian tribes and that he did not intend to let me have my own way.”174  White was not inclined to agree, and he fulminated in his diary that while Worcester was “a strong man 																																																								171 “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 172 Ibid. 173 Ibid. 174 Ibid. 	 51	and interesting talker,” he was “a better partisan and with too much ego in his cosmos.”175  However, as an officer of the Philippine Constabulary White was beholden to the wishes of his superiors, and his service not only required him to obey orders, but also to move around the Islands as higher powers saw fit.  In this sense, White was not always able to take colonial governance in exactly the direction he wanted – he was still beholden to the intricacies of colonial politics in the Islands.  Disagreement and tension between the Army and the civilian government meant that the Constabulary did not always have the same influence from province to province.  Likewise, political developments on the mainland, such as the election of Woodrow Wilson’s democrats and their attempts to move towards greater Philippine independence, thwarted what White imagined as ideal governance in the Islands.  However, perhaps the biggest obstacle to White’s vision of benevolent American-led government came in the form of the inhabitants of the Islands themselves.  As White wrote, “How could we, then little versed in history or philosophy, know that happiness would not follow?  And that the Filipino people – or that element among them strongest-lunged – would rather be unsafe, unhealthy, and poverty-stricken under their own flag than everything that was good under the Star-Spangled Banner?”176  Nevertheless, a decade and a half later, White’s final assessment of the impact of American empire on the Philippines remained positive.  As he recalled in his memoir, at the beginning of his time in the Islands, “[m]ost of the Filipinos were barefoot.  Now there are few in Manila who go unshod.  In that statement lies one measure of the changes of twenty-seven years.”177  Even fifteen years later, 																																																								175 “Personal Journal,” 1910, John R. White Papers, Ax 192, Box 7 Folder 15, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon. 176 White, Bullets and Bolos, 29. 177 Ibid., 5.  	 52	White wrote that “tears almost come to my eyes as the thrill of loyalty to the old corps still wakes an echo in my mind.”178                       																																																								178 White, Bullets and Bolos, 8.  	 53	Conclusion   Despite the enormous and well-welcomed expansion of scholarly attention on the subject over the past decade and a half, much remains to be examined regarding the long-term impact of the United States’ imperial experience in the Philippines on American society as a whole.  While higher colonial officials like Taft and larger than life figures such as Dean C. Worcester have captured both the attention and the pens of scholars, this project has attempted to bring to light some of the less-obvious, but still key, players active in the undertaking of American empire, the officers of the Philippine Constabulary.  Working as colonial police in an era where the profession’s expectations were still coloured by the romantic conceptions of the gentleman explorer of the Victorian era, but were also increasingly influenced by the application of social science, Constabulary officers’ ideas and actions can tell us a great deal about the ways in which scientific theories of race shaped the form that American empire took during its early years in the Philippines.  Indeed, while formal racial sciences such as twentieth century anthropology may have had limited impact on the higher-level decisions of the American colonial state in the Philippines, they did have a great deal of influence on the ways in which lesser colonial agents like Constabulary officers undertook American empire on a day to day basis.  These officers engaged with the native peoples of the Philippines to a greater degree than Philippine Commission administrators based in Manila, allowing them to refine their theories of racial difference and the ways in which they undertook their duties through their interactions with the native peoples of the Islands.  In this sense, the impact of Constabulary officers’ understanding of racial science could be considered, in many ways, more important than that of the upper echelons of the colonial government. 	 54	Anthropology provided a framework through which officers could understand their experiences leading and policing racial others, providing both guidance and justification for their actions as imperial agents. Anthropology appealed to officers for a number of reasons.  Connections between the Constabulary and colonial bodies like the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes provided the institutional basis for officers’ knowledge of anthropology and were useful to a colonial government attempting to pacify a largely unknown subject population.  On a more personal level, their self-professed status as Progressive-era white, gentleman-explorers led to their personal interest in documenting, collecting, and utilizing ethnographical information.  As such, officers like John R. White and Harold Elarth deliberately framed their efforts at governance in what they understood to be ethnographical terms and, in doing so, imagined themselves as contributing to a larger scientific project in the Islands.  In examining the personal writings and recollections of Constabulary officers stationed throughout the Philippines at the beginning of the twentieth century, we are able to come to a greater understanding of the ways in which the development and application of racial science shaped the on the ground realities of the American colonial state in the Islands.   However, this project only begins to interrogate the importance of the relationship between American imperial experience and the development of sciences like anthropology.  Indeed, the unique nature of the American colonial government in the Philippines makes the personal experiences and actions of Constabulary officers even more important to the study of early twentieth century American history as a whole.  Unlike their British counterparts, few American colonials established life-long careers in the Philippines, and more frequently returned home to the United States and took up new occupations after their service in the Islands.  Constabulary officers were no exception.  Men such as Harold Hanne Elarth and John R. White moved on to careers on the mainland, serving in government departments like the U.S. National 	 55	Park Service, and disseminated their knowledge of the Islands throughout the United States proper.  In much the same way that Alfred McCoy argues that returning American colonials’ transference of information technologies between the Islands and the mainland led to the creation of the modern American surveillance state, further research into the post-Constabulary careers of American officers might lead to greater understanding of the ways in which other practices of U.S. imperialism permeated American society as a whole.  More specifically, such an inquiry would allow greater insight into the ways in which America’s first major overseas colonial experiment shaped nascent sciences like anthropology, and, consequently, greater insight into empire’s larger consequences for an American society increasingly deferential to the so-called objectivity of science.  As virulently racist as some Constabulary officers’ writings may seem, their ideas have proved tenacious, remaining, to varying degrees, present in American public discourse throughout the twentieth and into twenty-first centuries.   As such, American empire in the Philippines and the various forms of knowledge production that accompanied it are key to understanding the foundations of American society as it exists today.  As Lee. D. Baker writes, “anthropology as discourse and discipline has played subtle, complex, and ambivalent roles in shaping the racial politics of culture in the United States.” 179  While the officers of the Constabulary may at first seem to have been relatively minor players in the United States’ imperial saga in the Islands, their ideas and actions had a profound impact on the ways in which American empire in the Philippines operated in practice.  Constabulary officers’ work thus had a small, but significant, role in US empire’s shaping of social sciences like anthropology and its contribution to science’s increasing influence on American society.  Through examining the ideas, beliefs, and actions of the officers of the 																																																								179 Baker, Anthropology and the Racial Politics of Culture, 3.  	 56	Philippine Constabulary, we are able to come closer to understanding the oft-overlooked long-term societal implications of the Untied States’ southeast-Asian empire.                                        	 57	Bibliography  Secondary Sources  Anderson, Warwick.  Colonial Pathologies: American Tropical Medicine, Race, and Hygiene in  the Philippines. Durham: Duke University Press, 2006.   Asad, Talal. “Afterword: From the History of Colonial Anthropology to the Anthropology of  Western Hegemony.”  In Colonial Situations: Essays on the Contextualization of  Ethnographic Knowledge edited by George W. Stocking, Jr., 314-324. Madison:  University of Wisconsin Press, 1993.   Baker, Lee D. Anthropology and the Racial Politics of Culture. Durham: Duke University Press,  2010.   ---. From Savage to Negro: Anthropology and the Construction of Race, 1896-1954. Berkeley;  Los Angeles; London: University of California Press, 1998.   Balce, Nerissa. Body Parts of Empire: Visual Abjection, Filipino Images, and the American  Archive. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2016.   Bederman, Gail. Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the  United States,  1880-1917. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1995.   Furner, Mary O. Advocacy and Objectivity: A Crisis in the Professionalization of American  Social  Science, 1865-1905. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 1975.   Gosden, Chris and Chantal Knowles. Collecting Colonialism: Material Culture and Colonial  Change. Oxford; New York: Berg, 2001.   Hutterer, Karl.  “Dean C. Worcester and Philippine Anthropology.” Philippines Quarterly of  Culture and Society 26, no. ½ (1998): 33-64.   Johnson, Courtney. “Understanding the American Empire: Colonialism, Latin Americanism, and  Professional Social Science, 1898-1920.”  In Colonial Crucible: Empire in the Making of  the Modern American State edited by Alfred W. McCoy and Francisco A. Scarano,  175-190. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009.   Kramer, Paul A. The Blood of Government: Race, Empire, the United States, and the Philippines.  Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006.   ---.  “Colonial Crossings: Prostitution, Disease, and the Boundaries of Empire during the  Philippine-American War” in Body and Nation: The Global Realm of U.S. Body Politics  in the Twentieth Century edited by Emily S. Rosenberg and Shanon Fitzpatrick, 17-41.  Durham: Duke University Press, 2014.   	 58	---.  “The Pragmatic Empire: U.S. Anthropology and Colonial Politics in the Occupied  Philippines, 1898-1916.”  Dissertation, Princeton University, 1998.  ---.  “Race, Empire, and Transnational History.” In Colonial Crucible: Empire in the Making of  the Modern American State edited by Alfred W. McCoy and Francisco A. Scarano, 199- 209. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009.   Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender, and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest. New  York:  Routledge, 1995.   McCoy, “Part II Introduction: Police, Prisons, and Law Enforcement.” In Colonial Crucible:  Empire in the Making of the Modern American State edited by Alfred W. McCoy and  Francisco A. Scarano, 83-86. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009.   McCoy, Alfred W.  Policing America’s Empire: The United States, the Philippines, and the Rise  of the Surveillance State. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009.   Mrozek, Donald J. “The habit of victory: the American military and the cult of manliness.” In  Manliness and morality: Middle-class masculinity in Britain and America, 1800-1940  edited by J.A.  Mangan and James Walvin, 220-239. Manchester: Manchester University  Press, 1987.   Pettegrew, John. Brutes in Suits: Male Sensibility in America, 1890-1920. Baltimore: The Johns  Hopkins University Press, 2007.    Purcell, Edward A. The Crisis of Democratic Theory: Scientific Naturalism and the Problem of  Value.  Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1973.   Rice, Mark.  Dean Worcester’s Fantasy Islands: Photography, Film, and the Colonial  Philippines. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2014.   ---. “His Name Was Don Francisco Moro: Reconstructing an Image of American Imperialism.”  American Quarterly 62, no. 1 (2010): 49-76.   Salman, Michael. “The Prison That Makes Men Free: The Iwahig Penal Colony and the  Simulacra of the American State in the Philippines.” In Colonial Crucible: Empire in the  Making of the Modern American State edited by Alfred W. McCoy and Francisco A.  Scarano, 116-128. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2009.    Primary Sources  Annual Report of the War Department, 1909-10, vol. 4. Washington: Government Printing  Office, 1910.   	 59	Barrows, David P. Circular of Information, Instructions for Volunteer Field Workers; The  Museum of Ethnology, Natural History and Commerce. The Bureau of Non-Christian  Tribes: Manila, 1901.   “Bayonets Versus Fists,” in 1906-1911 Scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH122, Box 2,  Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene,  Oregon.  “Bureau of Constabulary Circular No. 34,” 1907, Henry Gilsheuser Papers, Ax 325, Box 1 Folder  2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene,  Oregon.   “‘Cam’ Forbes’s Prison Reform,” Newspaper clipping, 1913.  John R. White Papers, Ax 192,  Box 19 Folder 8, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon  Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  Cox, Alvin J. The Philippine Bureau of Science, Bureau of Science Press Bulletin No. 87.  Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1918.   Victor Hurley, Blades in the Sun, unpublished manuscript, 79. 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Monograph of Lanao Province, prepared by Philippine Constabulary of Lanao, 1916, Henry  Gilsheuser Papers, Ax 325, Box 2 Folder 1, Special Collections and University Archives,  University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   	 60	“Moros,” in 1904-4 Scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special Collections  and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  “The Moro Problem,” Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, Ax 286, Box 1, Special Collections and  University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  “National Geographic Society Certificate,” in 1909 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers,  PH112, Box 2, Special Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon  Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  “Newspaper clipping,” Charles Wellington Furlong Papers, Ax698, Box 7, Folder 2, Special  Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.   “Our Moro Soldiers,” in 1904-5 scrapbook, Harold Hanne Elarth Papers, PH 112, Box 2, Special  Collections and University Archives, University of Oregon Libraries, Eugene, Oregon.  “Personal Journal, 1910,” John R. 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Worcester, The Philippine Islands and Their People. New York: The Macmillan  Company, 1898.  Worcester, The Philippines Past and Present. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1914.  Worcester, “Report of the Secretary of the Interior,” Report of the Philippine Commission, 1901.  Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1902.    

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