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Edit: Removed the screenshot so as not to share dm stuff, but got a message from someone who couldn’t send an ask: “i was wondering what book it was that you mentioned about the philippines? i’d be interested in reading it.” Sorry to post; figured it’d be worth sharing. Good news: It’s an article, so it’s relatively easier to access and read.

Jolen Martinez. “Plantation Anticipation: Apprehension in Chicago from Reconstruction America to the Plantocratic Philippines” (2024). An essay from an Intervention Symposium titled Plantation Methodologies: Questioning Scale, Space, and Subjecthood. Hosted and published by Antipode Online. 4 January 2024.

Basically:

Explores connections between plantations in US-occupied Philippines and the policing institutions and technologies of Chicago. Martinez begins with racism in Chicago in the 1870s. Coinciding with Black movement to the city (from the South during Reconstruction and the Great Migration) Chicago was, in Martinez’s telling, a center of white apprehension. Chicago public, newspapers, and institutions wanted to obsessively record information about Black people and labor dissidents, including details on their motivations and inner life. Martinez outlines how the major newspaper, in its series on “The Negro’s Point of View” which culminated in a “showstopping report” from 1879, determined that Black people would not “speak candidly” to white interviewers, and so the reporter conducted a “mass surveillance” of Black peoples’ personal postal/mail letters to determine “inner motivations” to better inform white peoples’ “terrified premonitions” of potential Black presence. Between 1880-ish and 1910-ish Chicago then became a center of surveillance, records-keeping, classification systems, and new innovations in collecting information. Within only one year after the labor rebellions, the Adjutant General of the US Army who led Chicago’s militarized crackdown on the 1877 Great Railroad Strike immediately moved to DC and proposed establishing “the Military Information Division” (MID); eventually founded in 1885, MID started collecting hundreds of thousands of Bertillon-system intelligence cards on dissidents and “criminals.” Meanwhile, at the same time, the National Association of Chiefs of Police headquartered their central bureau of identification (NBCI) in Chicago in 1896. At play here is not just the collection of information, but the classification systems organizing that information. The MID and related agencies would then go on to collect mass amounts of information on domestic residents across the US. In Martinez’s telling, these policing beliefs and practices - including “management sciences” - were then “exported” by MID to the Philippines and used to monitor labor and anticolonial dissent. Another Chicago guy at this same time developed “personality typing” and psychological examinations to classify criminality, and then he trained Philippines police forces to collect as much information as possible about colonial subjects.

The information-gathering in the Philippines constituted what other scholars like Alfred McCoy have called one of the United States’ first “information revolutions”; McCoy described these practices and social/professional networks as “capillaries of empire.” Martinez suggests that it’s important to trace the lineage of these racialized anxieties and practices from Chicago to the Philippines, because “such feelings were fundamental to linking plantations which at first seem so spatially and temporally distant.” And “[u]ltimately, the US colonial plantocracy in the Philippines built its authority around information infrastructures […] and feelings emanating from Chicago […] that extended from the image of the American South.”

Important context: 1899/1900-ish is when the US occupied or consolidated power in Panama, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Guam, Hawaii, and the Philippines.

Side-note:

The Bertillon system (bertillonage) was standardized at about this same time, 1879-ish, and in similar social and racial contexts, becoming popular in other Midwest/Great Lakes cities, especially to track Black people (though it was also rapidly and widely adopted famously as an essential approach across Europe). The system used body measurements to identify and classify people, especially “criminals,” significantly involving photography, such that Bertillon is also sometimes credited as the originator of “the mugshot.”

I’d add that the aforementioned police chiefs National Bureau of Criminal Identification (NBCI) stayed in Chicago from 1896 until 1902, when the killing of President McKinley frightened officials with potential of wider popular movements; at that point, it was moved to DC, as William Pinkerton (co-director of the Pinkerton agency) donated the agency’s photograph collection to build the new bureau, and NBCI strengthened itself by collecting fingerprints and became the precursor to the FBI, founded 1908. (After 1895-ish especially, European authorities were transcending their petty rivalries to attempt forming international police agencies and share documents, tracking each others’ domestic radicals/dissidents.)

You could compare the colonial use of Bertillon-style intelligence card systems in Chicago and US-occupied Philippines to the rise of fingerprinting as a weapon of Britain in India.

Edward Henry was the Inspector-General of Police in Bengal, appointed 1891, basically the top cop in British India. He exchanged letters with notorious eugenicist Francis Galton, wherein they specifically talked about the importance of developing a classification system for fingerprints that could be used alongside the Bertillon system of anthropometric identification. (Another British imperial administrator in India, Sir William Herschel, had previously been the first to pioneer fingerprinting by taking hand-prints.) By 1897, police forces in India had been adopting the so-called Henry Classification System, and the Governor-General of India personally decreed that fingerprinting be adopted across India. By 1900, Henry was sent to South Africa to train police in classification systems. By 1903, Henry was back in Britain and became head of the Metropolitan Police of London, now the top cop in Britain. (Compare dates with US developments: British police in India adopt fingerprint identification system the same year that Chicago police found their proto-FBI central identification bureau. Less than a year after the US head-of-state gets killed, Britain super-charges the London police.)

So, the guy who pioneered fingerprinting classification for use in maintaining order and imperial power in India and other colonies was eventually brought in to deploy those tactics on Britons in the metropole.

The kind of colony-to-metropole violence thing described by many theorists. (Britain also developed traditions of police photography in context of rebellions in Jamaica and India. Outside of London, the first permanent “modern” police forces across the rest of Britain were legally provisioned for with the Irish Constabulary of 1837 and County Police Act of 1839, “coincidentally” just before/during a 27th of July 1838 “Vagrancy Act” law that made “joblessness” a crime which was put into effect JUST FOUR DAYS before the 1st of August 1838 date when emancipation of Black slaves in the British Caribbean was allowed. As in, four days before nearly a million Black residents of the Empire got legal freedom, Britain outlawed vagrancy and was building permanent national police forces.)

The 1890s were outrageous. Japan’s domestic 1880 Penal Code was built on French models. The Ottoman Empire built a system of passport requirements to monitor movement; France did something similar in Algeria. In 1898, the Austria-Hungary imperial foreign minister called for the formation of an “International Police League.” This prompted an Italian radical at the time to write:

“The police are the same in all parts of the world. Laws have been fabricated by the bourgeoisie on the same model; in this, the bourgeoisie is more international than we are.”

And Great Lakes cities, after the Great Migration, were notorious for this kind of police violence. Consider how the Bertillon system was used early-on by Minneapolis police to track and target Black “alley workers” (try keyword-searching “Minneapolis Bertillon alley workers”). Or how Chicago was a focal point of antiblack violence in the Red Summer of 1919. Or how Milwaukee has some the most distinct Black-white segregation of any large urban area in the US. Or how, after Elliot Ness lionized law enforcement officials in Chicago during the Al Capone case, he then led policing operations in Cleveland culminating in the mass eviction and the burning of Kingsbury Run shantytown. (Chicago is like a funnel, a node, a hub. Especially after the 1860s: Center of railroad networks. Center of telegraph networks. Destination for Texas/Kansas cattle shipped to Chicago meatpacking houses. Destination for Corn Belt prairie agricultural products. Hence the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition and Chicago’s turn of the century image as a modernist metropolis. So they had to keep the laborers in line.)

Anyway, the other story that I mentioned regarding Philippines was from:

Gregg Mitman. “Forgotten Paths of Empire: Ecology, Disease, and Commerce in the Making of Liberia’s Plantation Economy.” Environmental History, Volume 22, Number 1. January 2017.

For context, I’d note that this takes place in the midst of the US’s “conquest of the mosquito” in its militarized occupation of Panama, where the canal was completed by the US between 1904 and 1914. (Again, US was occupying Philippines, Hawaii, Guam, Puerto Rico, and Cuba.)

In Mitman’s story, Richard P. Strong was appointed as director of the brand-new Department of Tropical Medicine at Harvard in 1913. Shortly thereafter in 1914, as he toured plantations in Panama, Cuba, Guatemala, etc., Strong simultaneously took a job as director of the Laboratories of the Hospitals and of Research Work of the United Fruit Company (infamous for its brutal labor conditions in plantations, its land-grabbing in Central America, and its relationship to US corporate power). Harvard hired Strong partially on the recommendation of General William Cameron Forbes, who was the military governor of US-occupied Philippines from 1909 to 1913. When Harvard hired Strong, he had been living in the Philippines, where he was the personal physician to Governor Forbes, and was also the director of the Philippine Bureau of Science’s Biological Laboratory, where he had experimented on Filipino prisoners without their knowledge; Strong fatally infected these unknowing test-subjects with bubonic plague. Then, Governor Forbes, after leading the US occupation of the Philippines, himself became an overseer to Harvard AND a director of United Fruit Company (also Forbes was a banker and the son of the president of Bell Telephone Company). Meanwhile, Strong also became a shareholder in British rubber plantations; Strong approached Harvey Firestone to help encourage the massive rubber company to negotiate a deal to expand plantations in West Africa, where Firestone got a 99-year-long concession to lease a million acres of land in Liberia. So there’s an intimate relationship between military, plantations, colonization, medical professionals, corporate profiteering, land dispossession, etc.

So, in each case, there is imperial anxiety about the threat of potential subversion from recalcitrant laborers. Imperial authorities cooperate and learn from each other. The rubber plantation owner is friends with the military general, who’s friends with the laboratory technician, who’s friends with the railroad developer, who’s friends with the cop, who’s friends with the forestry minister, who’s friends with banana plantation owner. There are connections between the exercise of power in the Philippines and Panama and West Africa and Bengal and Chicago. Connections both material and imaginative.

frostedmagnolias:

image

Watercolour depicting a woman working, watercolour and ink on paper

1840s

“This [ama] will be undone / why is the owner in a hurry? / he will use it on Three Kings’ Day / how to speed up the work? / his money is not enough.”

unknown artist from Manila, Philippines

Victoria and Albert Museum

fatehbaz:

In the Caribbean region, an archipelago that Edouard Glissant once described as “fissured by histories,” resilience has been wrought out of the ebb and flow of intellectual and physical currents […], […] mercurial - a fluid ecology […] - yet one rooted in […] shared historical markers: a fateful European encounter […], the plantation, […] slow violence of environmental mismanagement […]. In the discourse of Caribbean resilience, Haiti has emerged as a symbol of a nation in environmental crisis, an ecological revenant warning of the direst consequences […]. Haiti is, according to scientific consensus, the most environmentally degraded nation in the Caribbean […]. [T]he decline of frogs in particular […] is a biological early warning signal […]. When frogs start disappearing, other species will follow and the Haitian people will suffer, as well, from this environmental catastrophe.

I cannot think of one single frog species in the Caribbean not under some sort of assault. Think, for example, of the plight of the critically endangered Dominica and Montserrat crapauds (Leptodactylus fallax or mountain chicken), gathered and airlifted to zoos around the world in an effort to preserve the species […]. In Haiti, where there are roughly 50 species of frogs, many of them endemic, the International Union for the Conservation of Nature lists 92 percent as threatened or endangered, with most of them in the critically endangered category. The greatest threat to this endangered frog population is the destruction of Haitian forests […]. A recent study found “that as many as 26 species occur together in the isolated mountain forests of southwest Haiti, greatly increasing the threat of mass extinctions […]”. The extinction crisis facing Haiti’s frogs is the centerpiece of a prescient text published 25 years ago by Cuban-born Puerto Rican writer Mayra Montero - Tu, la oscuridad/In the Palm of Darkness, […] [an] avowedly environmentalist novel. It narrates […] how the extinction of species is the direct outcome of Haiti’s environmental collapse […]. Her tale is that of a postcolonial nightmare marked by […] institutionalized brutality […]. It is an example of how the narrative of Haiti’s negative exemplarity has become part and parcel of the ways in which we narrate environmental crises and resilience in the region.


We can tell this story alongside that of the efforts to save Puerto Rico’s endangered endemic parrot species, the Amazona vittata. Like the Haitian frogs, the Puerto Rican parrot is categorized by the IUCN as Critically Endangered and is one of the 10 most vulnerable birds in the world. We can gauge the extent of the loss this endangered status represents by considering that they once flew in sky-darkening flocks over Puerto Rico and the neighboring islands of Mona, Culebra, and Vieques. Researchers have estimated the extent of the Puerto Rican parrot population before European colonization as between 100,000 and one million individuals. 

Flocks of 50 to 100 birds were still to be seen in the Luquillo rainforest as late as the early 1900s, when a rapid deforestation caused by a shift to sugar cultivation after the American takeover brought forest coverage in the island to a precarious two percent (that of present-day Haiti) […]. Puerto Rico’s reforesting success, however, has been the work […] of bats primarily, whose remarkable success in distributing seed has achieved the successful reforestation of one of the parrots’ principal former habitats, the island’s Karst region covering the island’s northwest quadrant, […] heavily deforested […] for aggressive sugar cultivation by US companies […]. It put Puerto Rico and its biodiversity on the path of a[n] […] effective recovery. […]

Not so for the Amazona ventralis in Haiti, as parrots need, above all, extensive forests […]. We may never again see a parrot soaring above the tree canopy in a Haitian forest.


It is in the context of biodiversity threats that we must read the urgency of the Haitian farmers’ fight against donated [corporate, patented] seeds […] in the aftermath of the 2010 earthquake. […] Haitian peasant movements have been vocal in their opposition to agribusiness imports […] which undermines […] local seed stocks, which are a crucial form of biodiversity conservation. […] [There was] intensive coverage of the 2010 earthquake and the cholera outbreak that followed from television, blogs, commentators, magazines, photojournalists, and celebrities […].

The ubiquitous references to the resilience of the Haitian people rarely included any context […]. 

Coverage did not extend to the analysis of how the Haitian people found themselves in their present predicament. In what Elizabeth McAllister called “the dehistoricization of the victims and the depoliticization of the disaster,” audiences learned little or nothing about Haitian poverty as the result of the United States-supported policies […], or of “international debt and inequitable trade deals,” or “the international banking institutions’ neoliberal structural adjustment programs and the subsequent collapse of the Haitian agricultural sector that stemmed from US imports.” The media’s discourse on resilience stemmed from a naive notion of the Haitian people’s ability to recover […] from the multiple misfortunes fate had inflicted upon them […] relegating their poverty to a natural condition. […]

As Haiti goes, so does the rest of the archipelago.

All text above by: Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert. “Caribbean Archipelagos and Mainlands: Building Resistance against Climate Change”. The Black Scholar, Volume 51 (2021), Issue 2, pages 51-62. Published online June 2021. At: doi dot org slash 10.1080/00064246.2021.1889887 [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism.]