Science, Empire, and The Bagobo Babbler
I wrote this blog post when I was an I2F Fellow to give a short glimpse into my research project. It was supposed to be published on one of the Smithsonian’s blogs, but the pandemic arrived around this time, shaking up the writing and publication process. It never made it onto those blogs, but I figured it ought to see some light on mine.
On June 25th, 1904, in the Philippine town of Todaya, Edgar Alexander Mearns journaled: “The bird giving voice to such a prolonged gush of song is called by the Bagobos Doo-roogh-bah’-tong.” This was one of many Philippine birds which Mearns would add to Western scientific canon.
When publishing his findings, Mearns twice renames the Doo-roogh-bah’-tong. Its colloquial name, the Bagobo Babbler, references the Bagobo people who shared with Mearns’ the land and the language necessary to capture this bird. Its scientific name, Leonardina woodi, tributes Mearns’ friend and Military Governor, Leonard Wood, who exercised military rule over the Philippine South, where the Bagobos live. This nominal duality reflects the complicated intersection of science and empire, and how our nation’s histories can be uncovered in unexpected places.
Armed Discovery
The modest brown-backed and silver-bellied Bagobo Babbler flies throughout Mindanao, the largest island of the Philippine South. By 1902, The U.S. designated most of Mindanao to the American-made Moro Province, named for the Moros (Muslims) who predominate the region. However, Lumads, or “pagan” natives, co-occupied the area as well. The Bagobos are one of these Lumad groups
Edgar Mearns arrived here in 1903 to serve in the Moro Rebellions, a series of punitive anti-Moro campaigns. This period is often remembered only as a postscript to the already understudied Philippine-American War. In its time, though, the Moro Rebellions signified the experimentation of the United States colonial project in the Philippines, which simultaneously administered neocolonial tactics in the North and military rule in the South.
Prior to his Philippine tours, Mearns was already well known for his tendency to collect and conduct research during military appointments, which benefitted from his friendship with Theodore Roosevelt. Mearns provided not only an extra soldier and surgeon for the Moro Rebellions, but a convenient means to map out the unfamiliar environment. During his first tour from 1903-1904, Mearns collected thousands of specimens and objects which he contributed to the Smithsonian.
Mearns’ developed close ties with the Military Governor of the Moro Province, Leonard Wood, who led the campaigns in which Mearns served. Wood’s legacy remains as the most violent of the province’s governors. Most infamously, he authorized the Bud Dajo Massacre. Wood, though, supported Mearns’ scientific endeavors and even shot birds with Mearns’ for his collections.
Mearns brought many new bird specimens home in 1904. Among them was one Bagobo Babbler — pierced by a gunshot precise enough to preserve its feathers and flesh, while killing it all the same. Extraordinary care was given to the bird after its death, as that was the nature of collection. Death in the name of owning, killing in the name of knowing.
Mearns submitted the Babbler to the Smithsonian, where it remains the only of its kind.
Rethinking Legacy Through Collections
I tell this story not only to condemn past imperialism, but to problematize our modern acts of science. While collection practices have certainly become more regulated, imperialism’s guiding hand can still be felt on the shoulders of scientific institutions. Science is often seen through a value-neutral lens, but scientists’ funding sources, locations of interest, and similar considerations tend to be entrenched in politics. In this case, Mearns’ geographic placement is clearly directed by the US-Philippine relations. The zeal of curators over Mearns’ situation suggests a widespread desire to retool the Philippine colonization into Philippine exhibition — a desire that materialized in the St. Louis World’s Fair.
My current work is inspired by the (re)emerging movement for re-examination in the museum space and is facilitated by recent work done to illuminate the history of science. In particular, I give thanks to the Smithsonian Field Book Project and the writings done by Amy Kohout, who is the only other author I’ve come across to also engage in critical dialogue with Mearns’ collections. As the resources held in public institutions become more and more accessible, so too will the many histories in them.