Bush the son,
Saddam and sons

OVER THE PAST two or three weeks, many of my friends have glumly declared that war in Iraq is inevitable. They cite, as the main reason for their pessimism, the male pride of George W. Bush, Tony Blair and Saddam Hussein. They explain that these politicians, Bush especially, have invested so much on macho threats and saber-rattling that they would now lose face if they presented a more conciliatory or diplomatic face.

It would be simplistic to say male pride causes war, but that factor certainly becomes crucial in determining a final choice of war over diplomacy. Sadly, history tells us male pride has played its deadly hand over and over again, and that the Philippines was one of its early victims.

More than a year ago, I got a book titled "Fighting for American Manhood," with the intriguing subtitle "How Gender Politics Provoked the Spanish-American and Philippine-American Wars." I had to set it aside because of my busy schedule but over the last week I knew I had to make time to read it.

Written by American historian Kristin Hoganson, the book is a detailed account of how, in the late 19th century, American politicians used concepts of "manhood" and "masculinity" to justify the Spanish-American War and, eventually, US imperial adventures in the Philippines and other parts of the world.

On the eve of the Spanish-American War, Spain was a spent power, hanging on desperately to its colonies. But American politicians depicted Spain as ruthless and oppressive while the natives of its colonies -- Cuba and the Philippines in particular -- had to be shown as helpless and primitive. Some of these descriptions mixed gender slurs with racism, as in the following newspaper excerpt about Filipinos: "They are not men. Honesty, truth, justice, pity are either extinct among these people, or else still undeveloped."

It was important for American politicians to depict the rest of the world as savages, as "not men" because then it propped up their illusions of "manifest destiny," of their role as a liberator. The naval strategist Alfred Thayer Mahan, who envisioned American supremacy across the Pacific, wrote: "No greater danger could befall civilization than the disappearance of the warlike spirit (I dare say war) among civilized men. There are too many barbarians still in the world."

When President William McKinley waffled about declaring war on Spain, urging a peaceful resolution to the conflict, he met with heavy criticism, including questions about his manhood. One newspaper described him as a "goody-goody man"; another declared there was a "great need of a man in the White House" and still another said it was time for a "declaration of American virility." The New York Journal searched for "any signs, however faint, of manhood in the White House," saying that McKinley was acting in "unmanly and irresolute ways."

The politicians joined the fray. Senator John Daniel accused the McKinley administration of having lost the "virile instincts of the American people" while Senator George Turner described McKinley's response to the crisis as "lame, halting and impotent." Eventually, McKinley passed the decision to Congress, which did declare war on Spain.

The United States' insecurities about its manhood seem to resonate throughout its history. In 1812, on the eve of a war with Britain, Republicans talked about how "sons of the founding fathers" (referring to the American revolution in 1776) had become degenerate. Before the American Civil War broke out in the 1860s, northerners and southerners also talked of the need to defend their manhood. Fast forward into the 20th century and the call to arms on the eve of World War I from Congressman Augustus Gardner: "Today we leave the seat of ease and we enter the arena of blood and lust, where true men are to be found."

The displays of masculinity continued well through the 20th century as we read about Lyndon Johnson hesitating to withdraw US troops from Vietnam because he did not want to be seen as "an unmanly man ... a man without a spine."

Hoganson emphasizes that she does not believe this warmongering masculinity is constant in history. She says these definitions of masculinity change in time, products of historical circumstances. In the late 19th century, the American obsession with masculinity came at a time when the country was rapidly urbanizing and building up its industrial base. With more men taking up "soft" white collar jobs, and women entering the labor force in larger numbers, masculinity seemed to be under threat and war was seen as a way of rejuvenating the American male.

What Hoganson worries about is that "militant ideals of manhood" are "learned and willfully repeated." In the current debacle, we see, all too painfully, how such belligerence is transmitted, maybe even from fathers to sons. We see Bush the son (the incumbent US president) carrying on, if not trying to outdo, the belligerence of Bush the father, who invaded Iraq back in 1991. We see, too, how Bush the son, in his ultimatum to Iraq, orders "Saddam and his sons" to get out and then qualifying, the next day, that even if Saddam and sons did go into exile, America would still storm Iraq because of the weapons of mass destruction. Male pride closes all options, insisting on victory, no matter the cost.

Hoganson says that what has been learned can be unlearned, and what has been taught can be rethought. I know it's difficult to be optimistic these days but events in the last few weeks do show that many more people, males included, are rethinking war, seeing through the facade and claims of "defensive action" for what it is: childish but lethal male pride.