Ebin - Pub - Cities and Nationhood American Imperialism and Urban Design in The Philippines 18981916 9780824875510

Cities and Nationhood

American Imperialism and Urban Design
in the Philippines, 1898–1916
Ian Morley
University of Hawai‘i Press

Honolulu
© 2018 University of Hawai‘i Press
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
23 22 21 20 19 18 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Morley, Ian, author.

Title: Cities and nationhood : American imperialism and urban design in the
Philippines, 1898–1916 / Ian Morley.
Description: Honolulu : University of Hawai‘i Press, [2018] | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017056401 | ISBN 9780824872922 (cloth alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Colonial cities—Philippines. | City planning—Political
aspects—Philippines. | Architecture, American—Philippines. |
Philippines—History—1898-1946.
Classification: LCC HT169.P6 M67 2018 | DDC 307.7609599—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017056401
Cover photos: (Front) Rizal Park, Manila; (back) Statue of Daniel Burnham
in Burnham Park, Baguio. Photos courtesy of the author.
University of Hawai‘i Press books are printed on acid-free

paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability
of the Council on Library Resources.
Contents
Acknowledgments / vii
Chapter 1. Modernity, Nationhood, and Philippine Cities / 1

Chapter 2. Spanish Colonialism, American Imperialism,
and the Philippines / 18
Chapter 3. The City Beautiful and the Modern Philippine
Capital City / 46
Chapter 4. Baguio: The United States’ City Beautiful in the Philippine
Uplands / 86
Chapter 5. Regional Capital Plans and Provincial Civic Centers / 115
Chapter 6. Conclusion / 157
Notes / 183
Bibliography / 223
Index / 243
v
Acknowledgments
In bringing this project to fruition, I am indebted to a

number of individuals and institutions. First, I wish to acknowledge the
role of the late Professor Anthony Sutcliffe, under whom, as a MA stu-
dent at Leicester University, I was introduced to the field of planning
history. Without Tony’s support from that time, aside from his capacity
to articulate his enormous knowledge of cities, their histories, and their
environmental designs, I would not have had my curiosity piqued as to
why cities evolve as they do, and consequently why they have the urban
forms they have. From the bedrock of tutorials in the Attenborough
Tower (and the subsequent occasional get-togethers in pubs in Notting-
ham), I have ultimately been inspired to investigate the history of urban
design in the Philippines. Moreover, thanks to his encouragement, I be-
came genuinely interested, for the first time, in learning for the sake of
learning: hitherto my education had always been something I felt thrust
upon me rather than something I could enjoy for its own sake. Thank
you, Tony!
With reference to the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK), I
would like to acknowledge the Department of History for granting me
the freedom to research academic fields of genuine appeal to me, and I
extend my gratitude to the Faculty of Arts for their Direct Grants for
Research in initiating my investigations into Philippine urban history
and for the Publication Subvention Fund (2016–2017) in supporting
this publication. My gratitude to the Faculty of Arts is deepened by their
giving of the Humanities Fellowship to me in 2015 so as to permit me
additional time for my research process. I am also particularly grateful
to the Research Grants Council (RGC) in Hong Kong. Without their
generous funding this project would not have occurred, and conse-
quently my ability to access archives outside of Hong Kong would have
been severely limited. Without the RGC General Fund for Research, and
vii
viii Acknowledgments
the grant awarded to me, the project upon which this book is based
quite simply would not have got started.
Mention, and so appreciation, must be given also to the numerous
archivists who have given me assistance over the course of the past few
years in Hong Kong, the Philippines, and United States. Particular
thanks go to the staff of the Rizal Library at Ateneo de Manila Univer-
sity, peers at the University of the Philippines–Diliman—particularly
Professor Gerard Lico and Dan Silvestre—staff at the Library of Con-
gress, National Archives II in Maryland, the Art Institute of Chicago,
National Library of the Philippines, as well as archivists at Yale Univer-
sity and Harvard University. Furthermore, without the support of friends
in different countries—Stael Alvarenga de Periera Costa, Renato Leao,
Tony Potts, and Murat Cetin, for instance—the road to completing this
book would have been much rockier: thank you for your support. Addi-
tionally, it would be impossible to not acknowledge the assistance given
by Ms. Lin Jin, my research assistant, who offered great time and effort
to the cause of investigating the history of urban planning in the Philip-
pines. Finally, I’d like to thank my family for all their support: Alexan-
dra, Anaé, and Emeline . . . this book is for you!
Chapter 1
Modernity, Nationhood,
and Philippine Cities
“No sooner had the United States come into possession of the
Philippine Islands than the War Department set about adapting the
capital city to the changed conditions. . . . Moreover, the necessity of
providing a summer capital for the rulers of our new possessions has
led to the creation on the hills of Baguio of a city laid out on a plan
similar to the plan made by L’Enfant for the city of Washington.”
F
rom 1898 to 1916, that is, between the end of the
Spanish-American War and the passage of the Philippine
Autonomy Act, is possibly the most important era in the
history of modern city planning in the Philippines. During this relatively
short span, a number of noteworthy episodes took place that redefined
the appearance, configuration, and meaning of urban environments in
the country: a comprehensive urban plan was developed for Manila, the
national capital, in 1905; the same year, a monumental urban plan was
forged for a new city at Baguio in the north of Luzon Island, a place
where buildings, roads, and public spaces were purposefully arranged so
as to blend the built fabric with the distinctive local natural environ-
ment; large-scale plans were fashioned in accordance with contempo-
rary American planning notions for regional capital cities such as Cebu
and Zamboanga; numerous grand civic centers were constructed across
the country, districts characterized by symmetrical public edifices and
corresponding green spaces often lined with statuary of national heroes;
new building materials (e.g., reinforced concrete) were introduced for
the construction of public buildings; American and Filipino architects
were employed as full-time civil servants by the colonial administration
to help prepare designs for new public buildings and, when necessary, to
establish plans for urban environmental improvement as part of nation-
building.1 Significantly, in reference to the present-day condition of
1
2 Chapter 1
hilippine cities, the legacy of city planning developments between 1898

P
and 1916 persists. By way of example, urban spaces, roads, and public
buildings constructed during the early period of American colonial rule
in the Philippines are not only still in use but also, despite urban devel-
opment since 1916, fundamental to how the modern Philippine cityscape
is defined. Moreover, Baguio, the planned city in the north of Luzon Is-
land, still enjoys an inimitable reputation for its environmental organi-
zation and visual splendor.2
Inspired by urban design concepts and practices in the United
States, especially those associated with the City Beautiful Movement,
many Philippine settlements by 1916 had an appearance and plan that
contrasted with their urban form at the end of the nineteenth century
during the last years of the Spanish Empire. No longer were they visu-
ally dominated by churches or spatially dominated by plaza mayors—
large centrally located “main spaces” that had been formed to
accommodate Spanish colonial activities.3 Instead, the overriding fea-
tures were monumental boulevards, classical-design capitol buildings,
and sizable green spaces, their perimeters usually lined by trees. What is
more, just as the physical structure of Philippine urban places altered
between 1898 and 1916, so did their cultural meaning. With their new
appearance and morphology Philippine settlements disclosed a new
scale of civilization. No longer did Philippine cities in their built form
express the mores of Spanish colonialism, particularly the belief that
society was hierarchical in accordance with principles of natural law.4
Rather, the restructured Philippine towns and cities of the early 1900s
exhibited a visual character and spatial logic of the modern age.
Although it might be assumed that the practice of urban planning
arrived in the east of Asia with the Americans in 1898, in actuality it has
a lengthy history in the Philippine Archipelago. Formally arranging
urban environments began with the Spanish in the second half of the
sixteenth century as part of their desire to pacify the local population,
assert colonial rule, and develop local civilization—an outcome of King
Philip II’s 1573 directive known as the Law of the Indies.5 With its doz-
ens of ordinances on the founding and development of urban places in
the New World, the decree ensured that Spain’s colonial settlements in
the Philippines, like others elsewhere in the Spanish Empire, would com-
prise orderly built environments.6 The edict guaranteed that urban set-
tlements throughout the Archipelago would be fashioned along the same
environmental lines.7 Hence, by the time the Americans acquired admin-
Modernity, Nationhood, and Philippine Cities 3
istration of the Philippines in 1898, the imprint of Spain’s colonial urban

design model was deep. The Americans nonetheless introduced a new
archetype, one imported from North America to restructure local built
environments for “modern requirements” and to aid the reformation
and development of Philippine society.8
This book seeks to explicate the design of Philippine cities during
the early period of American colonial rule in the Philippines, specifically,
from 1898 to 1916. The paradigm it presents is not merely structuralist.
Accordingly, this investigation does not focus solely on the physical
form of American-built environments. Instead, it ventures to explain the
meaning of planned urban environments in light of America’s colonial
mission to “uplift” and “civilize.” Consequently, analysis of urban envi-
ronmental transition is put forward with reference to national develop-
ment and societal modernization, and the broad US colonial
governmental approach. Yet American efforts to reform the colony have
come to be viewed, in Peter Stanley’s view, as “retentive political acts.”
American deeds, Stanley maintains, amounted to nation-building but,
more importantly, one that took no account of the Filipino grasp of
nationality.9 Given this milieu, importing modern American city plan-
ning practice into the Philippines is explored as a vital element of US
colonial governance: a form of authority established to shift a society
from one sense of existence to another, namely, the image of American
society.10 American urban planning in the Philippines entailed more
than sanitizing and beautifying existing built environments, however. It
included prompting an environmental and societal transformation that,
I suggest, incorporated the development of Philippine nationhood, albeit
a national identity defined by colonizers. In this context, the volume
elucidates how the redesign of Manila, the redevelopment of Cebu and
Zamboanga, the creation of Baguio, and the establishing of fifteen new
civic centers throughout the country before 1916 buttressed a broad
political strategy of transferring the Philippines from an “uncivilized” to
a “civilized” disposition.11 In this framework, urban design is positioned
alongside education, public health, and political and economic develop-
ment as a fundamental institution that profoundly affected the advance-
ment of the Philippines as a nation. Providing an insight into the forces
in the Philippines at the end of the nineteenth century and the early
years of the twentieth, and how they affected the conceptualization and
construction of “modern cities,” this book expands knowledge of Philip-
pine urban environments, cultural development, societal modernization,
4 Chapter 1
and the evolution of nationhood during an era defined at its start and at
its end by two political watersheds: the fall of the Spanish Empire in
1898 and the passage of the Philippine Autonomy Act in 1916.
Modernity and Modernization

Dialectics of modernity, and in association modernization and
modernism, are countless. Although the terms are broadly used in a
range of discussions, their precise definitions are far less understood.12
Because components of modernity intersect the fields of science and
technology, art, literature, philosophy, and politics to provide a detailed
definition of what it entails is problematic. Nevertheless, critical theo-
rists such as Hartmut Rosa and Agnes Heller view modernity as being
grounded in dynamics that accelerate social and cultural developments
that, when left unchecked, remove existing traditions.13 For the German
philosopher Georg Hegel (1770–1831) too, the concept of modernity
has a destructive element: the contrast between the pre-modern world
and modern world is that existing customs and rituals are negated, and
new practices, beliefs, behaviors, and social arrangements are inaugu-
rated. Finding articulation within the domains of the family, civil society,
and the state, Hegel sees modernity as turning against existing distinc-
tions within society. Traditional distinctions, such as between men and
women and between social and racial groups, are reformulated in
response to the forces of societal modernization. The limits of their dis-
tinctions are made elastic. What was prohibited is now permitted.
Richard Sheppard asserts that, during the second half of the twenti-
eth century, scholars from various disciplines endeavored to establish
reductionist definitions of the concepts of modernity and modernism.
However, in explaining the terms, a number of difficulties were uncov-
ered.14 These include the challenge of identifying the start date of the
modern era and how to critically understand its nature. On the latter, crit-
ics of modernity and modernism have tried to come to terms with what
they are by, among other things, pinpointing their key features. Conse-
quently, a number of characteristics, such as the use of myth to order art,
greater cultural sophistication—especially in metropolitan centers, tech-
nical display, urbanization, rising national wealth creation, secularization,
and feelings of “discontinuity” that instill a “new consciousness”—have
been regularly identified. Michel Foucault, for example, emphasizes how
a sensation of chronological discontinuity can result when societal
advancement is instigated paradigmatically, that is, when modernity is

introduced to establish clear-cut distinctions with what existed previ-
ously.15 Significantly, for the American colonizers of the Philippines, the
manufacture of such an emotion was extremely weighty. They sought to
notify Filipinos post-1898 that their country’s narrative was being redi-
rected as a result of the US code of benevolent assimilation. In effect, Fili-
pinos under American colonial governance were to recognize that a new
society with dissimilar cultural mores and an advanced capitalist econ-
omy was being produced. As chapters 3, 4, and 5 in this volume explain,
the new design of Philippine cities was critical to realizing this political
objective. Given the nature of American colonial strategy and its capacity
to induce reform in Philippine society, an obvious division between Span-
ish and American cultural colonization was to be assembled. Spanish rule
and all the negatives it entailed were to end. Moreover, Dipesh Chakrab-
arty explains, because in Western thinking economic advancement and
capital creation is perceived to unite people, in the context of the Ameri-
cans establishing a new type of civilization in Southeast Asia, capitalism
was to help eradicate archaic and inefficient elements within Philippine
society before 1898. In so d oing, it would replace them with features of
“advancement” as part of the advent of “modernity.”16 Likewise, Chakra
barty continues, capital creation was to be critical to neutralizing differ-
ences between the histories of people in the Philippine Archipelago,
which in this case meant removing cultural dissimilarities circa 1898
between groups of Filipinos and the Americans and Filipinos.
The social, cultural, and intellectual effects of modernity have gen-
erated considerable discourse in past decades. Summarizing their
impacts on societies throughout the world is complicated. Regardless of
where modernity is found, however, it typically imparts two basic
changes on the people it encounters: their intuitions and way of life.
Traditional activities and thought patterns are undermined by new
thoughts and behaviors. In addition, according to Anne Fernald, peo-
ple’s comprehension of their culture and history shifts.17 The past
becomes commodified. According to this notion of the past as an entity,
traces of which are evident in a people’s use of a particular language,
new conducts and rituals replace former customs. Taking 1870 to 1914
as a case in point, Eric Hobsbawm contends that the era saw a prolifera-
tion of new traditions and institutions.18 As cultural phenomena, he
stresses, these new traditions were closely entwined with the emergence
of modern nation-states as well as with broader changes.
6 Chapter 1
Building on Hobsbawm’s theory, Anne Fernald suggests that

because traditions are invented it is important to know how people
determine what their relationship to a tradition is. To do so, she recom-
mends appreciating that divergence—working off the immediate past to
fashion a new epoch—is an essential element of modernization. In forg-
ing a new era—the Now or the Modern—in part by making the past
and its traits a Then, Patrick Williams adds, modernity is deeply self-
conscious.19 Modern-age thought becomes concerned with manifestos,
programs, and the like that “in part constitute the process—contempo-
rary, rather than retrospective—of self-definition.”20 On this topic,
Michel de Certeau observes that modernity seeks to present itself as
something similar to a revolution: it signifies “a scriptural project at the
level of a society seeking to constitute itself as a blank page with respect
to the past, to write itself by itself (that is to produce itself as its own
system), and to produce a new history (refaire l’histoire) on the model of
what it fabricates (and this will be ‘progress’)” [emphasis in the origi-
nal].21 According to Jeremy Ahearne, all that is required for this ambi-
tion to become a reality is multiplication of “modern thoughts” and
“modern operations” within economic, political, or administrative
spheres. But any realization of what these are, and the effects they will
produce, can be colored by empire-building.
The history of modernity, particularly in the nineteenth century, is
interwoven with the rise and enlargement of Western empires. Even
though modernism is considered to have been formed by, or is at least
complicit with, the Enlightenment, Western countries during the 1800s
equated expansionary forces with national development: empires
boosted territorial, cultural, economic, military, and political spheres of
influence; empires purportedly elevated the cultural character of persons
colonized by the Westerners. The idea of cultural superiority, summed
up in the creed West Is Best, thus helped incite a spatializing of moder-
nity beyond Europe and North America. The conquest of territory in
Africa and Asia, for example, provided Western nations with new sites
to implement the forms and structures associated with modernization.
As Patrick Williams explains, modernity was exported by the imperialist
system and was in a number of ways—as a condition or concept—inex-
tricably tied to colonialism.22 First, modernity was closely aligned with
the expansion of capitalism, which itself developed in the process of
Western nations colonizing new geographies. Second, modernization—
as an ensemble of economic, technological, and political processes pre-
mised on change—led to the new state of being within which traditional

beliefs were modified. For colonized peoples, this meant liberty from
their hitherto “uncivilized” existence. Third, as a human product, impe-
rialism exported Western models of nationhood and nationalism over-
seas. As Williams outlines, “one of the most powerful ways for a
particular group of people to constitute themselves as modern has been
via the claim to national status (and of course it is not the least among
the paradoxes of the nation that such a claim frequently involves the
simultaneous claim or invention of millennial traditions and lineages).”23
Filipino Sense of Self Pre-1898

In The Making of the Filipino Nation and Republic, Jose Abueva
remarks that “the Filipino nation is not only a figment of the imagina-
tion, a concept or intellectual construct, a noble sentiment, a legal entity
recognized internationally; it is above all a social, organic, and historical
reality.”24 As a pre-1898 reality, it must be appreciated for deriving not
so much from the operation of colonial law as from the power of the
emotions, imagination, assertions, and will of Filipinos such as José
Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, Emilio Aguinaldo, Apolinario Mabini, and
Marcelo del Pilar—with, significantly, the support of the general popula-
tion. Although the roots of Filipino nationhood were tied to the evolu-
tion of society during the late 1800s and displeasure with Spanish
colonial rule at the time, Filipino discontent with the Spanish colonial
regime dated back to the early 1600s. But, Abueva explains, the revolts
that took place before the late 1800s need to be understood as local
reactions to the abuses of the rulers, not as assertions of nationality.25
However, early 1872 saw a major turning point in the narrative of the
formation of the Philippine nation.26 The arrest of more than a hundred
Filipinos after the Cavite Mutiny of January 20, 1872, many of whom
were affluent and educated, and their subsequent imprisonment, execu-
tion, or exile to the Marianas Islands, left a deep emotional residue on
the people of the Philippine Islands.27 Whereas after the insurgence, the
Spanish authorities exercised oppression and terror under the auspice of
inciting respect for colonial rule, in the view of Rosario Cortes and John
Schumacher, this course of action resulted only in deepening Filipino
hatred of the friars and the colonial administration.28 Sorrow for the
victims of the Cavite Mutiny—particularly the Filipino priests Mariano
Gomez, Jose Burgos, and Jacinto Zamora—known as the Gomburza,
8 Chapter 1
who were garrotted at Bagumbayan Field in Manila (today Rizal Park),

January 1872 thus came to herald a new stage in the mindfulness among
Filipinos of their national identity.29 As Renato Constantino explains,
whereas the concept of being Filipino before 1872 had racial and cul-
tural limitations, after 1872 the repressive colonial regime “made the
three racial groups—creoles, mestizos and natives—join hands and
become conscious of their growing development as a Filipino nation.”30
Similarly, Onofre Corpuz remarks that they (the natives, mestizos, and
creoles) from this date developed “the concept of a Filipinas that was
part of Spain, and it was within this concept that they asked for reforms
in both colonial society and colonial administration.” This collective call
for reform was an enormous advance, Corpuz explains: “For the first
time the Filipinos were not seeking the settlement of local grievances via
revolts of passion that were always easily suppressed, but were raising
issues of change in society and government as a whole. They were work-
ing with political ideas. They had discovered civil politics.”31 This devel-
opment gave new meaning to the term “Filipino.”32 But, further
referencing Constantino, the soldering of Filipinos into a unified body
was hindered at that time by the lack of material bases. The growth of
national consciousness up to the 1870s, Constantino claims, was
impeded not only by the government’s suppression of the people and
their thoughts, but also by the lack of communication infrastructure
between regions and islands and by the general absence of a system of
education available to the masses. In other words, he maintains, the
Spaniards had from the mid-1500s purposefully kept Filipinos in igno-
rance so as to control and exploit them, and this situation consequently
made any Filippino efforts to develop a sense of nationhood extremely
difficult by the late 1800s.33
The mutiny in Cavite, and its repercussions, was unlike prior rebel-
lions. The colonial government’s subsequent strategy to rule with an
iron rod, and to restrict the role of Filipinos within the clergy, gave rise
to the perception among the native population that the regime was
merely a tool of the Catholic Church. Among influential Filipinos, espe-
cially those of the affluent and educated class known as ilustrados
(enlightened or learned ones), the situation provoked thoughts of Philip-
pine self-rule in the future.34 Whereas within the Philippine Archipelago
secret societies were formed to help patronize local interests, wealthy
families in Manila and the provinces sent their sons overseas to avoid
the post-1872 suppression. In Europe, and especially in Spain, these
educated, liberal-minded young men and older self-exiled Filipinos

launched a propaganda campaign to promote reform “back home.”
Aware of their distinct national character, individuals such as Marcelo
de Pilar, Mariano Ponce, Antonio Luna, Graciano Lopez-Jaena, Edu-
ardo Leyte, Galicano Apacible, and José Rizal were central to demon-
strating to Europeans the resentment that Filipinos held against Spanish
colonial rule. Using publications such as the Revista del Circulo
Hispano-Filipino and La Solidaridad to voice their opinions, as well as
forming organizations such as the Asociacion Hispano-Filipino, the ilus-
trados sought to win over influential politicians in Madrid so that par-
liamentary representation and the extension of Spanish peninsula law to
the Philippines could come about. Instilling a nationalist nuance into
their campaign so that the equality of Philippine-born Spaniards and
Filipinos could be shown, reformist Filipino discourse recurrently drew
attention to the corrupting influence that Spanish culture and the Cath-
olic Church had had on the unique nature of the people in the Philippine
Archipelago.35 Crucially, in this polemic, the ilustrados laid bare not
only what the Filipinos were, but also what they had achieved prior to
Spanish colonization. Consequently, much of their writing, at least by
the late 1880s and early 1890s, exposed that although the friar-
dominated Spanish regime in the Philippines had made numerous posi-
tive contributions to Filipinos’ lives, all in all it had made the lot of
Filipinos far worse. For this reason, in the minds of the ilustrados, and in
particular of José Rizal, “the task was not so much to seek reforms from
the colonial regime as to build up the Philippines as a unified and self-
reliant nation, ready to take its place among the nations of the world in
due time.”36
Even though this work has not been composed with the intention
of dissecting the life and impact of ilustrados such as José Rizal, some
comment on him and the establishment of Filipino nationhood is none-
theless worthwhile. For instance, Rizal was fundamental to informing
Filipinos by the 1880s and 1890s what civil society should be, and that
they were not so much Spanish subjects as members of the well-defined
cultural entity known as the Philippines. Thus, before Rizal, the term
“Philippines” by and large referred only to geography. Loyalty to the
Philippines “was the instinctive affection for the land of one’s birth,
one’s ‘native land’ rather than for a nation.”37 Rizal, on the other hand,
helped validate to Filipinos that they were members of a distinct nation.
As Benedict Anderson explains, Rizal enabled people to see “the
10 Chapter 1
hilippines” for the first time as “a society in itself, even though those
P
who lived in it had as yet no common name.”38 To quote Léon Guerrro,
Rizal was the first
who sought to “unite the whole archipelago” and envisioned a “com-

pact and homogenous” society of all tribal communities from Batanas
to the Sulu Sea, based on common interests and “mutual protection”
rather than the Spanish friar’s theory of double allegiance to Spain as
Catholic and the Church as Spanish.39
But what exactly was the Philippine nation as a concept as it emerged

toward the end of the 1800s? At its most basic, it is defined, Guerrero
asserts, by two fundamental features: a large community spread across
the entire Philippine Archipelago and the people within this geographi-
cal territory belonging to a culture with common moral responsibilities,
mutual rights, and duties.40
The basic aspiration of the ilustrados’ propaganda movement in
Europe was to achieve reform in the Philippines by promoting Spanish-
Filipino assimilation. However, the strategy did not have the desired
effect on the government in either Spain or Manila. Nonetheless, the
writings of the ilustrados, clandestinely imported into the Philippines
after the colonial government classed them as seditious, did have nota-
ble effects. The prestige of the friars was fundamentally damaged. The
writings helped imbue, especially among those on Luzon Island, a stron-
ger sense of unity and national identity. As Reynaldo Ileto observes, the
mobilization of the masses under the ilustrados’ nationalist cause came
to a peak by the 1890s. The ilustrados’ efforts to confer rational and
moral legitimation for the founding of the Philippine nation had
enabled, by that time, “people to arrive at a state of mind in which such
a break or separation [from Spain] was possible, if not inevitable.”41 To
further grasp how this attitude arose, it is worth considering the role of
the Katipunan. Founded in July 1892, this secret organization was
formed to, first, unite all Filipinos in terms of a single ideology and, sec-
ond, to establish an independent nation by revolution. Its members
gathered from across the social spectrum, the Katipunan had thousands
of supporters by the mid-1890s.42 Its nature meant that once rebellion
broke out in Caloocan (about twenty-five kilometers from Manila) in
August 1896, a widespread uprising could subsequently take hold.43 As
agitation spread from the Tagalog-speaking regions to other provinces
in the Philippine Archipelago, the Katipunan lost its original cultural-

linguistic character but became “the first active embodiment of the
Christian Filipino nation, composed of Filipinos from the various social
classes, geographical regions and ethnolinguistic groupings associated
with one union.”44 Although the Tagalog provinces on Luzon Island
would always be the cradle of the revolution, what the Katipunan initi-
ated was the first genuine Filipino rebellion. The 1896 revolution, as
Abueva neatly summarizes it, “was our first collective enterprise as a
people.”45
In Arenas of Conspiracy and Rebellion in the Late Nineteenth-
Century Philippines, Michael Cullinane notes the significance of Manila
as a site for Katipunan esteem and membership.46 Indeed, both in and
about the capital city in August 1896, rebellion by its members—at a
time when large numbers of Spanish troops were in Mindanao quelling
a Muslim revolt—signaled a new level of breakdown in Spain’s capacity
to control the colony and, in association, demonstrated the new level of
confidence among Filipinos to overthrow the colonial administration by
force.47 Even though in the following months both Filipino and Spanish
militia experienced a number of setbacks, the widening rupture between
“Mother Spain” and her colonial subjects brought, in the minds of many
Filipinos at least, realistic expectations of a new social and political
order soon to be formed. In declaring the Biak-na-Bato Republic in late
1897, Filipinos sought full emancipation from the Spanish monarchy.
With its constitution, the first Philippine constitution—one that outlined
the right to education, the freedom of the press, freedom of religion,
equality for all before the law, and—the Biak-na-Bato Republic, under
the leadership of Emilio Aguinaldo, was another milestone in the Fili-
pino pursuit of self-rule.48 Even though the republic was short lived,
owing to the signing of a treaty in December 1897 between Aguinaldo
and Spanish Governor-General Fernando Primo de Rivera, by early
1898 new insurgencies, such as that on Cebu Island, exposed the fragil-
ity of Spain’s colonial state. Such was this frailty by 1898 that it was
vulnerable to both domestic and foreign military forces. The fatal blow
came on May 1, when, less than a week after the declaration of the
Spanish-American War, US Navy Commodore George Dewey sailed his
fleet into Manila Bay and destroyed Spain’s armada. The Filipinos had
no idea of the significance of Dewey’s military victory, no inkling that
their fate in the coming years would be determined by a resolute and
superior player in the game of politics. The switch in 1898 from Spanish
12 Chapter 1
to American colonial rule, as chapter 2 explains, fundamentally affected

life in the Philippine Archipelago.

Urban environments contain and communicate symbolism. Such
figurative meaning is not arbitrary. Cities and their built forms have
long been useful to the display of political power. Lawrence Vale notes
that throughout history, and across the world, “architecture and urban
design have been manipulated in the service of politics.”49 The need for
architecture and city design to endow political service has been most
striking, he observes, when nations have a new form of government.50
New public buildings and urban spaces in this context pronounce the
worthiness of the new administration and, in compliance, aid the
advancement of the regime’s status. Meaningfully too, buildings, spaces,
and statuary within them help foster the sentiment coined as nation-
hood. Said by Benedict Anderson to be grounded in the notion that peo-
ple within a particular territory feel that they belong to an imagined
political community—“imagined as both inherently limited and sover-
eign”—nationhood, in Hobsbawm’s view, is also fostered by the inven-
tion of traditions.51 Defined as “a set of practices, normally governed by
overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual or symbolic nature, which
seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behaviour by repetition,”
invented traditions, such as those occurring within public spaces or
buildings, according to Hobsbawm play a critical role in developing
feelings of identity, loyalty, and citizenship.52 As a cultural-political pro-
cess that binds individuals together, Caspar Hirschi asserts, nationhood
is characterized by external mechanisms. These include the way people
within a territory perceive and construct the world beyond their bor-
ders, and as a consequence see and read “others”—those of another cul-
ture, language, history, and the like—as dissimilar.53
Georg Hegel observed some two hundred years ago that nations
have a long history before they form themselves into states.54 Given this
dictum, how can a “pre-state” evolve into a “full state”? Ernest Gellner,
in response, emphasizes the role of nationalism, “a political principle,
which holds that the political and the national unit should be congru-
ent.”55 Nationalism, Clifford Geertz asserts, is manufactured as an out-
come of political self-assertion and the standardization of norms,
values, and customs, in accordance with the belief of belonging to a
nation.56 For Gellner, nationalism is definable in terms of both human

will and culture, “and indeed in terms of the convergence of them both
with political units. In these conditions, men will be politically united
with all those, and only those, who share their culture.”57 In Gellner’s
theory, ethnic boundaries do not cut across political ones. Rather, in the
milieu of the amalgam of will, culture, and polity, “nations maketh
man; nations are the artifacts of men’s convictions and loyalties and
solidarities” [emphasis added]. What is more, given this line of thought,
it is peoples’ recognition of each other “as fellows of this kind which
turns them into a nation, and not the other shared attributes, whatever
they might be, which separate that category from non-members.”58
As to how urban design feeds into the national identity conscious-
ness, architects, planners, and governments have tried to promote the
uniqueness of a particular place or society, typically within the setting of
a capital city. Anthony Sutcliffe relatedly notes that most capitals have
in either major or minor ways been environmentally altered to generate,
reinforce, or express a cultural or political ideal.59 As a result, the built
fabric promotes the definition and negotiation of what a particular
nation actually is. In the modern era, governments have often used capi-
tal cities to supplement feelings of unity and belonging. As a stage for
promoting national culture and politics, cities have influenced how peo-
ple within a particular territory appreciate their sense of self, and in turn
their grasp of the making, or indeed remaking, of nationhood. In the
widely acknowledged light that cities and their buildings inform people
of the nation to which they belong, Vale identifies frames of reference.60
On the issue of the design of capitols, the symbolism of the edifice is, he
contests, a product of subnational group allegiances, the architect’s
design agenda, and the regime’s interest in pursuing an international
identity through urban design. What can be passed off as a quest for
nationhood “is in reality a product of the search for subnational, per-
sonal, and supranational identity.” Capital cities and to a lesser degree
provincial settlements thus exist within, and at particular times are sub-
servient to, a nation-state’s pursuit to display identity at a number of
abstract and geographical levels.
With regard to an “imagined community,” Eric Hobsbawm identi-
fies cultural and environmental matters as essential to both establish-
ment and growth. In particular, he observes the development of a
secular equivalent to the church, the mass production of public monu-
ments, and the invention of public ceremonies as important.61 As a tool
14 Chapter 1
to help organize roads, spaces, and buildings, urban planning plainly

has value to any government striving to amalgamate people. In refer-
ence to the Philippines from 1898 to 1916, the Americans did create
buildings and spaces designed to bind the local population together as
“Filipinos.” First in Manila, and later elsewhere in the country, the
Americans constructed capitol buildings in the capital cities of prov-
inces and near them laid out open areas with statuary and landscaping
where each year ceremonies were held. To endorse an imagined com-
munity and introduce “invented traditions,” Hobsbawm explains, sets
of practices must be created that inculcate certain values and norms of
behavior by repetition.62 As an exercise in social engineering designed
to bring people together as a nation, Daniel Burnham’s urban planning
paradigm—introduced in Manila in 1905 and then propagated in the
provinces—enabled the American colonial state to construct visible
environmental features such as public buildings (capitols), public spaces
(green spaces inspired by the Mall in Washington, DC), and statues (to
José Rizal) to mark the beginning of a new era for Filipinos (see fig-
ure 1.1). In linking the “Filipino community” and “traditions” to the
“modern planned Philippine city,” democratic politics and reverence to
Figure 1.1. Rizal Monument in Rizal Park, Manila, as seen on Rizal Day, Decem-
ber 30, 2015. Source: Author.
Rizal were powerful symbols to bind Filipinos together. Significantly as

well, within this milieu, much of Spanish colonial history was rejected.
The “modern Philippines” basically abstained from historical retrospect
apart from, as noted, memorializing Rizal’s death. Rizal, endorsed by
the United States as “the great Filipino,” was memorialized by a spate
of monuments erected throughout the country: the populous regardless
of their location were, on dates such as December 30 each year, thus
unified. The Rizalian amalgamation of Filipinos as exemplified by cer-
emonies and rituals about statuary (built and paid for by the American
colonial regime) illuminated how the colonizers strove to apply among
Filipinos a concept of “us” within the modernization process that, in
conjunction, portrayed the Spanish as a “them” that had done little to
enrich and civilize the general population.
Chapters
This book discusses the association between city planning and the
concept of the Philippine nation comprehensively, albeit with particular
reference to American colonization between 1898 and 1916. To date,
precisely how US colonial urban design projects in Manila and provin-
cial centers are associated with the development of the Philippine nation
is not fully known. This investigation therefore aims to present an orig-
inal, compelling insight into the evolution and meaning of the modern
Philippine built environment, and, in association, a new appraisal of the
value of City Beautiful urbanism against the ideals of the American
colonial government. Attempting to expound how city planning by
Daniel Burnham and William E. Parsons played an important role in
reshaping the Philippine built form and in defining nationhood in the
country, this book places urban design at the core of the American colo-
nial narrative in Asia. The work thus adds to Philippine colonial
historiography by exploring societal progress, race, and city design
from a different perspective. The book presents, on one hand, the trans-
formation of the built fabric within large Philippine cities and, on the
other, the cultural and political nuances of City Beautiful–inspired city
plans in the Philippines as well. For the first time, how urban plans were
used to define membership of the Philippine nation is made clear. Cur-
rently, within both Philippine historiography and studies of the history
of urban planning in Asia, this topic is neither addressed nor fully
understood.
16 Chapter 1
Although aspects of American attitudes to civilization in the Phil-

ippines have been covered by numerous authors, how this fed into urban
environmental transitions after 1898 is still open to debate.63 Whereas
other scholars have presented valuable texts on the modernization of
the Philippines and the redesign of the colonial cityscape, the goals of
their work in framing American intervention in the narrative of the Phil-
ippines after 1898 is different from that presented here.64 So, to provide
a wide-ranging picture of the history of city planning in the Philippines
after the collapse of the Spanish Empire, this book is tightly structured.
This chapter introduces the topics of modernity and societal mod-
ernization, describes the rise of Filipino nationalism in the late 1800s,
and supplies general information on cities and their association with
nationhood. Chapter 2 sketches an overview of American observations
of Filipinos and their political experience circa 1898, the impacts of the
Spanish-American War, urban conditions in the Philippines at the end of
the nineteenth century, and the history of urban development and urban
design in the country before American colonization. Integral to this dis-
cussion is how Americans perceived local culture, and accordingly how
local culture was judged as “backward,” “tribal,” and “uncivilized.”
Last, the chapter also provides a summary of the principles of American
colonial rule as defined in President William McKinley’s Benevolent
Assimilation proclamation in January 1899.
Chapters 3 and 4 discuss the form and meaning of arguably the
two most important urban plans in the planning narrative of the Philip-
pines: Daniel Burnham’s 1905 schemes to restructure Manila and to
develop the summer capital city at Baguio. As articulations of the US
imperial project, and the first modern urban plans designed specifically
for Philippine settlements, Burnham’s projects presented a new model to
Philippine society. An exemplar for city planning in Southeast Asia, the
two plans highlighted the US desire to not only renew existing urban
environments but also alter the nature of life within them. The examples
of 1890s Chicago and the District of Columbia at the start of the 1900s,
and the American attempt to articulate “practical political education” to
Filipino elites by laying out the new urban spatial arrangement, are
explicated within these two complementary urban plans and chapters.
City Beautiful urbanism is accordingly discussed in detail.
Chapter 5 discusses the plans for the regional capitals of Cebu and
Zamboanga by William E. Parsons as well as Parsons’ work to construct
civic centers in more than a dozen provincial settlements. The prolifera-
tion of grand classical urbanism outside Manila is therefore reviewed as

well. In conclusion, chapter 6 offers key findings. It serves also as a step-
ping stone for future studies on architectural and urban design practices
in the Philippines between 1916 and 1935, and on the role and impact
of Filipino architects within the American colonial civil service. The
chapter thus also discusses contemporary discourse in the Philippines on
issues related to urban heritage and the preservation of urban environ-
ments planned and constructed by the Americans in the early 1900s.
Chapter 2
Spanish Colonialism,
American Imperialism, and
the Philippines
“The circumstances in which the United States came into possession of

the Philippines were as unexpected as they were extraordinary. At the
beginning of the year 1898, Americans knew very little and cared less
about this extensive Archipelago, and when it began to be talked
about, there was a great rummaging of maps to find out where it was.”
I
n 1898, Philippine society was in a state of great flux. As
Onofre Corpuz observes, the year was characterized by a
major military conflict, the Battle of Manila Bay, which oc-
curred on May 1.1 Although lasting just a handful of hours, the encounter
between the Spanish Pacific Squadron and the US Asiatic Squadron had
an immense impact on the evolution of Philippine society. The defeat of
the Spanish navy kick-started a military and political process which, by
the end of 1898, brought to an end 333 years of Spanish colonial rule in
the Philippine Archipelago. With the signing of the Treaty of Paris on De-
cember 10, 1898, between the United States and Spain, and so the initia-
tion of American colonial government in the Philippines, in the years
thereafter policies were enacted to promote American colonial authority
and concurrently erode Filipinos’ ties to their hitherto female or Euro-
pean nurturers of Mother Mary and Grandmother Spain, signs to the
new colonizers of the premodern, the rule of passions, and religion.2 With
the transfer of colonial government, an act that the newly constituted
Filipino government was not a party to, the Americans subsequently es-
tablished policies comprehensive enough to facilitate their presence
throughout all of the Philippine Archipelago. Initially, at least, the US co-
lonial governmental remit was expressed by President William McKinley
18
Spanish Colonialism, American Imperialism, and the Philippines 19
in a declaration given in Washington, DC, on December 21, 1898, a

speech commonly known as the Benevolent Assimilation P
roclamation.
Acquiring the Philippines

When on May 1, 1898, US Commodore George Dewey’s fleet
sailed into Manila Bay, his objective, it was said, was not to take the
Philippines but rather to repel the threat of the Spanish Navy.3 In spite
of this, the outcome of the Battle of Manila Bay in the ongoing Spanish-
American War clearly entailed much more than the mere destruction of
Spanish boats. Provoking a new level of hostility between Spain and the
United States, warfare that subsequently led to further Spanish military
setbacks in the Philippines as well as in Cuba, Guam, and Puerto Rico,
in consequence steered Spain by October 1898 to pursue negotiations
for a peace protocol with the Americans. Within one month of discus-
sions being opened, Spain accepted the American offer to abdicate con-
trol of the Philippines. At this point, the American public knew very
little of their soon-to-be colony in Southeast Asia. As a result, people
went scrambling to buy maps and books to find out where the Philip-
pines was and what local society was like. This state of affairs though,
with reference to governance, presented the Americans with a major
dilemma. Outlined by Parker Willis, the predicament entailed whether
the Filipinos, then described by the Americans as belonging to a “lower
race,” should after the Spanish relinquishment of their territory be con-
trolled once again by persons higher up in the scale of civilization, that
is, now by Americans.4 “Can the assumption of such political control as
is here contemplated be warranted by any circumstances; and, if so, by
what?” asked Willis.5
Although it is not necessary given the framework of this work on
the history of city planning in the Philippines to explicate in detail mili-
tary and political developments occurring as an upshot of the Spanish-
American War in 1898, a few comments are nonetheless required. First,
American knowledge of Philippine society was by late 1898 at best lim-
ited. Second, the Philippines at that time was said to geographically and
culturally comprise a “thousand islands with twice a thousand tribes,
many tongues, many religions, a climate unsuited, for the most part, to
Europeans, and to the seat of the trouble an eight thousand mile trail.”6
Furthermore, to say that literacy and enlightened or modern thinking
was prevalent among the local population would be enormous flattery.
20 Chapter 2
As Alleyne Ireland observed at the time, “Nothing can be more unprom-

ising, from the standpoint of Western government, than a population
ninety-nine hundredths of which is deeply ignorant, grossly supersti-
tious, and highly sensitive to native tradition, and of which the remain-
ing one hundredth is well educated, well versed in native customs,
familiar with native dialects and possessed with the exquisite subtlety of
the Oriental mind.”7 In light of this situation, the New York Times deter-
mined that Filipinos were not capable of self-government and, from the
standpoint of culture, had nothing in common with Americans.8
Terminating the Spanish-American War, the signing of the Treaty
of Paris in December 1898 ensured that Spain would hand over Cuba to
the United States, that it would also cede Guam and Puerto Rico, and
that under Article III and for the sum of $20 million relinquish its
authority in the Philippines. But as a civilization perceived in 1898 by
the Americans as being the opposite in character to a post-Enlightenment
society, that is, a society people ruled by emotions and thought very lit-
tle beyond their own village and the control of village affairs, the nature
of life in the Philippine Archipelago presented a monumental challenge
if American colonial governance were to nourish the local population
so that they could attain a new “scale of civilization” after 1898. The
image the United States had of itself in Southeast Asia was a biological
one: Filipinos were in 1898 akin to children who were to grow and
mature as a result of American “feeding,” that is, as an outcome of the
importation of American culture and politics into the Philippine Archi-
pelago.9 This transition, broadly labeled by American politicians as a
process that would make Filipinos “our little brown brothers,” there-
fore was to spark a fundamental shift in the nature of Philippine society.
With the precious American gift of “progress” and new civil liberties life
in the Philippine Archipelago would evolve from a premodern to mod-
ern state of existence. In this setting, colonial governmental rule was
perceived by the Americans to not be imperialistic but, in contrast, to be
enlightening. As defined in President William McKinley’s Benevolent
Assimilation Proclamation, the broad aspiration of the US colonial
administration was
to win the confidence, respect, and affection of the inhabitants of the

Philippines by assuring them in every possible way that full measure of
individual rights and liberties which is the heritage of free peoples, and
proving to them that the mission of the United States is one of benevo-
lent assimilation substituting the mild sway of justice and right for ar-
bitrary rule. In the fulfillment of this high mission, supporting the tem-
perate administration of affairs for the greatest good of the governed,
there must be sedulously maintained the strong arm of authority, to
repress disturbance and to overcome all obstacles to the bestowal of
the blessings of good and stable government upon the people of the
Philippine Islands under the free flag of the United States.10
To come to terms with what American colonial rule was to accomplish,

and to grasp how it was to operate, it is important to not bypass how
Philippine society was observed by the colonizers at the end of the nine-
teenth century. In American eyes, a number of generic matters swayed
their perception of life in the Philippine Archipelago. These may be listed
as follows. To begin with, the Americans observed Filipinos to be neither
culturally advanced nor homogenous. It was said that Filipinos “are as
far from one people as the inhabitants of Europe, India, or South Amer-
ica.”11 Additionally, Filipinos were observed to be politically inexperi-
enced. They were judged to possess no concept of the nation state or
knowledge of how to govern for the public good. The great mass of the
local population was identified as having little grasp of the world be-
yond that of their barangay (local community). Furthermore, in relation
to urban environments, their general condition and public health stan-
dards were poor, particularly in Manila (see figure 2.1): “There is no
doubt that the conditions in this regard encountered by the Americans
when they first assumed control in Manila were shocking.”12 Finally, a
great many Filipinos viewed Spanish colonial governance as corrupt and
tyrannical. Hence the Americans from 1898 recurrently emphasized the
difference between theirs and Spain’s type of colonial authority: Ameri-
can rule was benevolent; Spanish rule had not been. Moreover, Ameri-
ca’s presence in the Philippines was intended to not be permanent, en-
slaving, or exploitative. Instead, by encouraging the development of
modern civilization and self-government, Filipinos would under Ameri-
can guidance become civilized, unified, and capable of self-rule for the
first time. Modern city design was harnessed to help service this policy
of activating higher civilization.
Figure 2.1. Map of Manila in
1898. Source: Attributed to
Francisco de Gamoneda (Norris
Peters Co., 1898), in author’s
possession.
The American Perspective on Spanish Colonial Rule and

Creating Impermanent American Colonial Rule
To understand what American colonial governance and thus city
planning was to accomplish in the Philippines it is essential to identify
American perceptions of, first, the country and, second, Spanish colonial
rule because just as much it was America’s self-proclaimed destiny from
1898 to be a great civilizing force in Southeast Asia Spanish rule was
viewed in this framework as establishing a society that lacked “advance-
ment.” Manila, in particular, to the Americans was seen as a sidetracked
capital. It seemingly displayed the large gulf between Filipino ways of
life and Spanish authority, on the one hand, and the nature of modern
American civilization, on the other. The contrast between “us and them,”
a gap perpetuated in the American psyche by the Black Legend about
Spanish governance,13 imposed on the Americans the duty to elevate the
lot of the apparently downtrodden Philippine population. This proce-
dure was not to occur via negligible inputs. A profound repair of Philip-
pine society was deemed necessary, and in light of this perspective the
Americans from as early as 1901 sought to consider how to harness
urban planning so as to promote civilization-building. Daniel Burnham
and Peirce Anderson’s grand 1905 plan for Manila, for instance, was to
not only be an enduring witness of US services in the Philippines but,
significantly, an expression of the destiny of the Filipino people as well.14
The amelioration of Manila along City Beautiful lines would not only
convert it from being a foul smelling place—“Manila consists of a laby-
rinth of narrow streets, bordered by small shops and unattractive houses,
while the dust and mud on the barely maintained roads are only inter-
rupted by unsightly canals”15—into a Pearl of the Orient, but would
also enable Filipinos to expose their “genuine soul” and shed the Latin
disposition imposed upon them by the Spanish.16 This was to become
noticeable by the Americans’ ensuring that their governmental policies
were dissimilar from Spanish colonial procedures, society was healthier
and wealthier, and Philippine cities had a different spatial-visual form.
Accordingly, this transition within society would help promote the fact
that American rule was neither corrupt nor oppressive.17 Instead, it was
to be forged to bring happiness to the Filipino people, and to encourage
civil rule in readiness for self-rule. The contrast between Spanish and
American rule was to reveal that colonial government after 1898 worked
to forge a “Philippines for the Filipinos” and that colonial rule before
1898 had not. But in this milieu, American rule and so the reform and
24 Chapter 2
modernizing of the Philippines was fashioned with an intrinsic paradox:

it was designed to be “gradualistic.”18 In other words, it was to permit
some elements of society from the Spanish era to be continued; it was
also to be paradigmatic, that is, formed with clear-cut distinctions from
what existed previously. In this setting, though, Filipinos were to realize
that a new society was being produced by the Americans on their behalf,
and in this process Spanish rule and all its negatives were to be banished
to history. The new design of Philippine cities was critical to helping the
Americans promote this objective.
Given that the Philippines was a society described by the American
colonizers at the end of the nineteenth century as “backward,” the US
capacity to “civilize” and “uplift,” an articulation of its active power
within a society formerly held down by the allegedly degenerate influ-
ence of Spain, was fueled by both pragmatic reasons and symbolic inten-
tions. Consequently, Manila’s renewal by 1905, and in the years
afterward the restructuring of the built environment of other Philippine
urban settlements, was to portray the advanced nature of US society and
the superior nature of civilization in the Philippines when compared
with what existed under the Spanish yoke.19 Henceforth, life in the Phil-
ippines was to be defined through the establishment of new colonized
subjects, that is, a population whose nature differed from what they
were before, the founding of a just and effective government, by social,
economic, and cultural opportunities previously unimaginable, and by
urban environments of different plan and appearance.
So that Philippine society could develop itself the nature of the
colonial political system established by Americans had a number of
well-defined characteristics. It was founded on a patron-client alliance
between them and the Filipino elites.20 This, as Ruby Parades explains,
operated at a number of administrative levels and geographic scales: at
the national level (by Filipino provincial leaders and national politicians
interacting with Americans); in the regions (via dyadic relations between
local and provincial leaders, and national Filipino politicians); at the
municipal level (by local and provincial Filipino leaders interacting with
rural and urban residents).21 Venturing to tie local government offices
with regional and national departments, bureaus before 1898 reserved
only for the Spanish, was a measured act by the Americans. Ambitious
Filipino politicians through networking and practicing American gov-
ernmental principles were consequently provided with a way to “work
up the ladder.”22 For many upper- and middle-class Filipinos, social
mobi lity was important. By exploiting their political aspirations—

“[they] are born politicians, ambitious as Satan”23—public offices could
be utilized as controllable venues to socialize local elites in democratic
politics and political responsibilities, namely, subjects Filipinos had not
been formally trained in before. Yet, so that the conveying of “practical
political education” could occur, the pre-1898 social hierarchy was to be
maintained. Without the support of influential caciques (local chiefs),
principalias (elected officials), and ilustrados (learned ones), any attempt
the Americans would make to modernize Philippine society would at
best be subject to impediments, or at worst would run the risk of ending
in failure.24 Because powerful families controlled districts, even prov-
inces, by necessity American colonial government was formulated to the
greatest extent possible to satisfy the opinions and aspirations of the Fil-
ipino elites. By granting native families of social prominence and the
ilustrados a political voice with seats on municipal councils and within
higher level governmental offices, because of the US promise that their
presence was impermanent,25 the Americans effectively handed the
native elites, particularly the young, overseas-educated men influenced
by European doctrines of liberalism and nationalism, a channel to
acquire knowledge and experience necessary to one day obtaining full
political control of the Philippines. Moreover, in giving them social rec-
ognition as members of the colonial government, the Americans hoped
that the Filipino higher social classes would, as matters stood circa 1898,
shift their mind-set: “What would suit them would be to have us leave
the island—the sooner the better—and they do not hesitate to let us
Americans know this.”26 As a result, the upper stratas of local society
were to become familiar with American ideals, and by displaying devo-
tion to the colonizer’s principles through practicing honest and efficient
government, cement their place to the development of the nation as it
headed toward independence.27
The creation of a civil political alliance between Americans and
Filipinos, one headed from March 1900 by the Philippine Commission,
was thought (by the Americans) to set numerous benefits in motion.
Some of these have been noted but additional advantages were to be
established. They were to include social barriers between rich and poor
Filipinos weakening in response to a stronger civil society and both trust
and respect among Filipinos and the Americans deepening. The value of
winning over Filipinos was acknowledged by President McKinley soon
after the United States obtained jurisdiction of the Philippines. His April
26 Chapter 2
1900 Letter of Instructions, said to be the most important document in

American colonial history,28 outlined to the Philippine Commission a
model of constructive statesmanship in which Filipinos would have the
widest possible opportunity to manage their own governmental affairs,
albeit in accord with their political abilities and the general framework
of American colonial rule. As McKinley emphasized, without winning
Filipino support, the propagation of advancement would be stifled, and
confidence in the sincerity of American rule—“in all ways the govern-
ment of the islands is being administered with fidelity in the declara-
tion—‘the Philippines for the Filipinos’ ”29—could collapse. Likewise,
by weaning Filipinos away from Grandmother Spain, new loyalties
would transpire within local society. Nationhood could, in theory, be
enhanced.
“The Orphans of the Pacific” and Their Political Experience

Insight into the nature of American colonial governance during the
period 1898 to 1916 requires comprehensively coming to terms with
how Americans characterized Filipino culture. Conveying a form of
governance that promoted “white fathering” so that Filipinos could
become more civilized, the American colonial governmental process
strove from the outset not only to inaugurate a modern, democratic,
and patriarchal state but also to transform Filipinos into alter egos of
their white colonial fathers, that is, “little brown brothers.” As a society
seen by Americans circa 1898 to be devoid of “progress” and “liberty,”
and so “backward” in character given the apparent lack of “develop-
ment” under Spanish colonial rule, thanks to the instigation of Ameri-
can authority, Filipinos were, evidently, to be “civilized.” Enacting the
principle of benevolent assimilation, a notion grounded in the moral
duty to spread the blessings of modern civilization to areas where back-
wardness persisted, as self-proclaimed civilizers of the world, Americans
viewed themselves as having a responsibility to bring “good and stable
government” and “high civilization” to parts of the world previously
lacking.30 However, to accomplish this aim, the United States had to
first act like a stern custodian. Only by pacifying Filipinos could it in
due course ensure any sway over their behavior: “By knowing what
they [Filipinos] were up to through continuous and discrete observa-
tions, problems could be identified and appropriate disciplinary mea-
sures applied where needed.”31
On arriving in the Philippines, Americans often remarked on the

lack of homogeneity of the local population. In American documents
composed at the end of the 1890s and onset of the twentieth century, a
common remark centered on the large number of ethnic groups in the
Philippine Archipelago. For example, the 1902 publication A Pronounc-
ing Gazetteer and Geographical Dictionary of the Philippine Islands
identified eighty-four ethnic groups, of which only eight were described
as “civilized.”32 In addition, the lack of interaction between ethnic
groups and lack of common language were also frequently cited as lack-
ing in local society. On such topics, the Americans recognized that most
of the population spoke only in dialect. In all, fewer than 10 percent of
the population knew Spanish “according to best estimates,”33 and those
who did belonged primarily to the educated urban middle class.
Being tainted in American eyes by the importation and develop-
ment of Spanish laws, customs, and culture from the mid-1500s onward,
the Philippines was identified in 1898 as, in contemporary parlance, a
failed state. The Americans used this interpretation of both Spanish
colonial rule and the alleged backward nature of the Filipino as racial
propaganda to convince the local population post-1898 of their superi-
ority, namely, the preeminence of the Anglo-Saxons over the Latin race.
In the view of Marshall Everett, the Americans “did not hesitate to
declare a belief that the day of rule for the Latin races had ended and
henceforth the Anglo-Saxons would dominate and govern the earth.”34
Evidence in the Philippines for such a standpoint came via a number of
observable sources: Spanish governmental corruption; a lack of educa-
tion among the local population—“90 per cent who do not speak Span-
ish, whose only education, if they have any, is limited to a knowledge of
local dialect and language, and to a knowledge of reading and writing to
the extent of being able to sign their names”35; the inherently flawed
character of Filipinos—“Ninety per cent of the people have a density of
ignorance, of credulity”—which offers no capacity for “communication
with the modern spirit”36; the Filipinos’ lack of aspiration for social and
economic betterment—“With a hut, a mango-tree and a fighting cock,
the unambitious Filipino is perfectly satisfied with life. If he owns a pig
and a few hens he is considered prosperous. If his possessions include a
rice-field, and a water-buffalo . . . he is a power in the community”37;
and the demoralization of Filipinos by Spanish mores—“The customs of
the native peoples are strongly tinged by those of the Spanish conquer-
ors who ruled over them with a rod of iron for nearly four centuries.”38
28 Chapter 2
Associated closely, in the opinion of the Americans, to this subjugation

of the native population was the Catholic Church. It “represented the
Spanish Government in every pueblo” and “had a hand in everything
that was done in the village.”39 In the words of the New York Times, the
Catholic Church had “long enjoyed an unusual amount of wealth and
power in the Philippines.”40 Consequently, Charles Russell remarked,
the Philippines was by 1898 the “Ireland of the East.41 Yet, despite the
apparently dire condition of Philippine society at that time, all was not
lost. In the words of Dean Worcester, a member of the Philippine
Commission,
I believe that under our guidance they [Filipinos] will make rapid prog-
ress in civilization, and will soon be able to take an important share in
the burden of governing their country, but I know that if the full weight
of that burden were thrown upon them to-day, they would inevitably
sink under it.42
Despite the alleged flaws in their character—“The total area of the Phil-
ippines is about the same as that of Japan, but its civilized population is
only one-seventh”43—and the issue of numerous ethnic identities—
“There was never a Philippine nation—only a collection of tribes, speak-
ing different languages, and having little in common except that they
belong to the Malayan race”44—Filipinos were perceived by the Ameri-
can colonizers to have positive traits. They were seen, for instance, to be
hospitable and imitative. The Americans thought that if it were possible
to win the confidence of the local population “in the sincerity of our
purpose to elevate them and assist them in learning self-government,
and in learning how to pursue happiness and enjoyment,” then in theory
there would be no impediment as to why Filipinos could not become
modernized and capable of dealing with the future challenge of self-rule.
As William H. Taft put it, “In capacity for education and learning self-
government, in capacity for future development, I think the Filipino is
equal to that of any race, perhaps excepting the white . . . and I have
great confidence in their capacity for development.”45 However, for
“progress” to transpire, given the American comprehension of evolu-
tionary development, a racial-cultural taxonomy—a hierarchical classi-
fication of Filipino people—was introduced. San Juan noted that Filipi-
nos were ranked according to their mental and physical characteristics.46
What is more, Roxanne Doty observes, the classification scheme
legitimized the American assumption that the Filipinos did not yet con-
stitute “a people” or a “nation.”47 In such a framework, the Americans
were able to denigrate their colonized subjects to a conglomeration of
“savage tribes” who for their own benefit required social order and con-
ciliation, such as via the importation of American culture and politics.
In this mind-set too, for the Americans, until social order and develop-
ment transpired, ethnic groups that had each lived beforehand in ways
foreign to each other would continue to be incapable of being “civi-
lized,” would continue to be “backward,” and would continue to have
few thoughts beyond their own community. Intrinsically, they would be
powerless to acquire any sense of nationhood and, in such a cultural
framework, obviously, Filipinos would be inept at self-rule. But ironi-
cally, as discussed in chapter 1, Filipino nationalism by 1898 had been
incubating: “Filipino intellectuals of the anti-Spanish Propaganda Move-
ment (1872–1896) had already implanted the Enlightenment principles
of rationality, civic humanism, and autonomy (the sovereignty of all
citizens) in the program of the revolutionary forces of the secret associa-
tion Katipunan and the first Philippine Republic.”48 For this reason, the
American assumption in 1898 that notions of Filipino nationhood did
not exist was quite simply wrong.
By the onset of the twentieth century, approximately 7.6 million
people lived in the Philippine Archipelago, and to the American coloniz-
ers the vast majority of these people lacked advanced culture.49 In addi-
tion, because Filipino identity was viewed as rooted in tribalism, native
political behavior was seen to be allied to a distinct form of authority—
absolutism. Because local social ties were seen as being based on master-
serf relations and community leaders as acting out private or family
rather than public interests, American colonial governance sought to
reshape the nature of local culture and by doing so assist the general
population to prosperity, political awareness, and civil liberties never
before experienced. To appreciate how societal advancement was to
transpire, once again American perceptions of Filipinos must be fath-
omed, and to this end attention must turn to how Americans saw Filipi-
nos’ political sensibility at the end of the nineteenth century. As Taft
remarked,
ninety per cent of the inhabitants are still in a hopeless condition of

ignorance, and utterly unable intelligently to wield political control.
They are subject, like the waves of the sea, to the influence of the
30 Chapter 2
oment, and any educated Filipino can carry them in one direction or
m
another, as the opportunity and the occasion shall permit.50
Comparing Filipinos with Native Americans thus, if the Philippines by

1898 was to Spain a daughter, anatomically and intellectually inferior
and forever immature, then from the American standpoint, Filipino so-
cietal evolution could only come about post-1898 when “daughter Fili-
pina” was detached from “Mother Spain.” Because bestowing education
in self-government was judged a fundamental purpose to the American
presence in Southeast Asia, to eliminate among Filipinos any ideas of
absolutism in government, the Americans would forge “practical les-
sons” in self-government. Such instruction would impress on Filipinos
the democratic powers prevailing under the American system. As a form
of rule of the people for the people, it would also provide disparity with
authority that had existed during the Spanish colonial era, a brand of
government Murat Halstead described as “corrupted, and inefficient in
all things, except methods of tyranny.”51 Enabling too the Americans to
acquire the trust of the local population, Stickey argued that a funda-
mental change in the system of government, the imparting of political
education, and the promotion of economy, efficiency, and honesty in the
transaction of public business would encourage Filipinos to realize new
wants of their own.52 The Filipinos who were to largely define and bring
into being these new wants belonged to a particular social class, how-
ever: the Spanish-speaking urban elite. As much as the United States was
seeking to transform all of Philippine society, old social hierarchies had
to be maintained: the new nation could not survive without the apti-
tudes and resources of the affluent and educated. For this reason, given
the Filipinos’ purported lack of practical knowledge in 1898 as to what
public good was and how government should be run, they, to the Amer-
icans, would always resort to absolutism in practical problems of
government if left unsupervised. Accordingly, with only American guid-
ance in democratic politics, to be marked by milestones involving Fili-
pino appointments at first in local administration and then in central
government, were the caciques, principalias, and ilustrados, to be thor-
oughly trained. In association, all Filipino people would have an active
voice in how society should be managed: “Not only by precept but by
practice must the self-restraints essential to self-government and the dis-
cretion of the free people be taught to them.”53
Urban Development and Urban Design in the Philippines

Before 1898
The urban narrative of the Philippines is extensive and predates
the arrival of the Spanish in the mid-sixteenth century. In terms of cul-
tural growth and matters of political, economic, and social advance-
ment, Spanish colonization was a decisive point in Philippine society’s
urban evolution. All the same, before Spanish colonization well-
established urban communities were in place.54 For example, villages
stood in Luzon, Cebu, Mindanao, and Mindoro Islands, in part due to
the development of overseas trade and the spread of Islam. As a conse-
quence of creating economic and cultural links with societies elsewhere
in Southeast Asia, precolonial urban communities such as Manila,
Cainta, and Cebu became prosperous and acquired power far beyond
that of other places in the Philippine Archipelago. They also had com-
paratively large populations and somewhat different perspectives on
life. Islam introduced a new world view. In the words of Robert Reed,
Islam’s presence inspired feelings of pride and participation unknown to
earlier generations of Filipinos.55 Subsequently, on some Philippine
islands political-cultural-religious ties extended beyond the reach of tra-
ditional barangays, that is, the independent, self-administering commu-
nities that typically had populations of one to five hundred people (thirty
to one hundred families or houses).56 Islam nullified traditional loyalties
and promoted a sense of supra-barangay affiliation. Manila, before the
arrival of the Spaniards, had a population of approximately two thou-
sand.57 The people lived in a community characterized by complex poli
tical, social, and economic kinships. As an international trading entrepôt
with links to Borneo, China, Japan, the Malay Peninsula, and Siam, for-
eign merchants traded their wares with persons in Manila who in turn
distributed goods into the hinterland of Central Luzon and various
islands in the Philippine Archipelago. Notably, via domestic trading,
Manila’s Muslim population took their faith out to outlying communi-
ties, which in turn embraced religion not so much for cultural gain as
for political and economic reasons.58
Urban places in the Philippines at the time of Spanish coloniza-
tion, then, generally comprised dispersed, small communities that pri-
marily engaged in low-intensity farming.59 In mountainous regions,
urban communities were even more diminutive in demographics. They
tended to consist of populations in the dozens rather than the hundreds,
and settlements rarely featured permanent built structures given the
32 Chapter 2
need to migrate to find food. In contrast, in lowland regions, where

urban communities dotted the coastline, rivers, and lakes, or were sited
on the rich volcanic soil, settlements frequently comprised a few hun-
dred people. Communication between urban communities, however,
was minimal. With their own languages, rituals, and leadership systems
under a datu (chieftain), lowland barangays only tended to engage with
each other through warfare.60 Communication even related to assis-
tance in times of need was basically nonexistent. In regard to urban
form, barangays by the sixteenth century had evolved with well-defined
environmental features: the head of each community, and his family,
customarily lived apart from the rest of the population, sometimes in a
fortification of sorts. Buildings were loosely arranged in linear form, it
being an environmental feature akin to settlements elsewhere in South-
east Asia, houses arranged parallel to rivers or the coastline. On the
island of Cebu, for example, settlement patterns were affected by both
environmental and cultural factors. Topography, land use, inheritance
rules, and fear of the supernatural influenced the configuration of
houses. These were typically arranged in three spatial patterns: lined
along a main pathway—an embryonic type of main street; encircling a
community-oriented building—the embryonic building of a place or
square; in a cluster, an embryonic form of urban districts or neighbor-
hoods.61 In the largest precolonial settlements, an additional feature
was often evident: a wall encircling the community. Constructed of
palm tree logs or sharpened bamboo, sometimes including a moat or a
stone wall, such a feature testified to the significance of defense in the
precolonial Philippines. For example, Manila was defended by such for-
tification and always guarded by soldiers. Buildings, similar to defensive
structures, were constructed not from stone but instead from available
local botanic materials such as wood, plant fibers, grass, and bamboo,
and as a rule were just a few meters in length and width.62 Roofing
could be either flat or sloping—the form varied from region to region in
part due to climatic variations—and the house itself could either be
built on the ground or raised above it on stilts.63 As to why buildings
were raised above the ground level, sometimes up to a height of two
meters, Gerard Lico offers a climatic-centered explanation: to remove
potential problems with mud or ground water during the monsoon sea-
son, to provide airflow beneath the house to cool the temperature
within, and to enable small fires to be lit under the structure so that
mosquitoes could be repelled.64
Spain’s occupation of the Philippines had an immense impact on

the character of Philippine civilization. Bringing together for the first
time the islands of the Philippine Archipelago into a single geographical
and political unit, and utilizing their experiences in the Americas (from
the late 1400s), the Spanish developed colonial settlements to prompt
cultural transformation, control and exploit the local population, and
expedite the generic aims of colonization: the message of God, the pro-
motion of Spain’s glory, and the acquisition of natural resources such as
gold. Similar to that in Neuva España (New Spain—an area known
today as Central America) and Neuva Granada (New Granada—the ter-
ritory presently comprising Colombia, Ecuador, Panama, Peru, and Ven-
ezuela), urban development and the composition of new settlements in
the Philippines was greatly affected by King Philip II’s 1573 Law of the
Indies. As a text that left a formidable imprint in all the areas of Spanish
influence, a decree that was a direct response to Spanish governmental
concern for the founding of colonial towns, the Law of the Indies
ensured the creation of a uniform urban form throughout the entire geo-
graphical reach of the Spanish Empire.65 The impact of the ruling, with
its 148 ordinances, was enormous—“probably the most effective plan-
ning document in the history of mankind”66—and acted as Spain’s
urban development manual until the collapse of its empire in 1898.
Revealing the importance of urban places to Spanish colonization and
in effect equating urbanism with civilization67—the Spaniards placed
strong emphasis on the city given its importance for colonial adminis-
tration, reproduction of capital, ecclesiastical management, and cultural
activities—the Law of the Indies accentuated a need to construct urban
environments with features recognizable to the European colonizers.
This included a central urban space, the plaza mayor, which was to be
orientated so that its four corners pointed to the four directions marked
on a compass, the siting of public edifices such as churches and govern-
ment offices alongside the open area, and the settlement’s principal
streets radiating away from the plaza. In establishing such an urban
form, Spanish culture, governmental authority, and religious ideology
were expressed simultaneously.
Aside from utilizing knowledge derived from the establishment of
almost two hundred colonial settlements in the Americas prior to the
1570s, the Law of the Indies also demonstrated the strong influence of
Roman city planning principles.68 Echoing the words of Vitruvius (circa
80–15 BC), as well as Renaissance architect-thinkers such as Leon
34 Chapter 2
attista Alberti (1404–1472), the Law of the Indies sought to establish

B
urban environments that were both utilitarian and beautiful.69 A water-
shed in Spanish colonial governance, the repercussion for urban design
throughout the Spanish Empire was great: in one governmental stroke
the Spaniards were able to alter the urban as well as social, cultural, and
economic conditions of any territory they conquered. As Gerard Lico
illustrates, the elements of the Law of the Indies that particularly trans-
formed the Philippine urban landscape were
1. use of reducción (forced resettlement);

2. introduction of the encomienda (dependency-relation system)
in which land was confiscated from the indios (native popula-
tion) and redistributed to Spanish colonists;
3. instigation of a hierarchical settlement system in which the core
of the municipality, where the colonial elites resided and the
church was built, was known as the cabecera (head) and outly-
ing districts as barrios.
4. initiation of new building types, and construction techniques; and
5. configuration of settlements in accord with a traza (plan).70
In both physical and symbolic terms, the heart of the Spanish colonial
settlement as laid out by a traza was the plaza mayor. The space was to
be rectangular in shape, the length being at least one and a half times the
width, and of a size considered proportionate to the number of inhabit-
ants in the settlement.71 In coastal or riverside settlements, the space, as
outlined in the Law of the Indies, was to be sited near to the shoreline or
river. In small communities, it was to not be less than three hundred feet
in length. In the biggest urban settlements, the space was to measure up
to eight hundred feet in length and five hundred feet in width. As the
anchor from which the built environment was arranged, straight streets
were to disperse from it with their being cut at ninety degree angles by
other roadways: grid pattern presenting a sense of spatial order and the
tidy placement of people within a well-defined territory. About the plaza
mayor, public buildings were to be sited. These included a church that
was to face toward the space yet positioned slightly set back from it, and
porticos that would adorn the front elevation of public edifices so as to
define the perimeter of the plaza.72 Land between streets in the Spanish
colonial settlement was to be neatly divided into plots of uniform size
that, in accord with the 1573 edict, were to be distributed by lottery to
settlers. Any remaining plots were to be held so that land could be

granted to settlers who arrived later or be disposed of at the pleasure of
the state.
With regard to the instigation of Spanish colonial urbanism in the
Philippines, three settlements must be given special recognition: Cebu
(on Cebu Island), the first point of arrival for the expedition led by
Miguel de Legazpi in 1565 and developed from that time not only as a
religious or military center but also as the first capital of the colony;
Manila (on Luzon Island), established as a colonial city in June 1571;
Panay (on Panay Island), established in 1569 in response to the scarcity
of food on Cebu Island yet by the early 1570s in a decrepit condition
due to outbreaks of disease and locust plagues. As a letter by Diego de
Herrera to authorities in Nueva España outlined at about that time,
Panay was a “sad looking and despicable settlement.”73
As in Panay, predicaments befell early colonial Manila and Cebu.
In Cebu, hostility from the local native population and dissent among
the Spaniards due to harsh living conditions rendered the embryonic
city precarious. Manila, as noted, had its own challenges. A catastrophic
fire in April 1571 left the settlement in need of rebuilding. However,
with the granting of encomiendas (land grants) to encourage Spaniards
in Cebu and Panay to move to Central Luzon, in 1574 King Philip II
bestowed Manila the title Insigne y Siempre Leal Cuidad (Distinguished
and Ever Loyal City) and though, speaking administratively, such a
maneuver might be recognized as guaranteeing the settlement’s exis-
tence, enormous obstacles still had to be overcome in the years immedi-
ately after. For example, to ensure the continuation of the city as the
colonial capital, distinct administrative powers had to be bequeathed.
Therefore, in 1583, Manila, up to then administered as part of Nueva
España, became an audiencia (royal court) with its own permanent
judges and limited autonomy. To supplement this situation, Manila’s
built environment was reconstructed. Although the fire of 1571 made
this imperative because large numbers of buildings had been destroyed,
the threat of Chinese pirate attacks added to the urgency to rebuild the
settlement and ensure the provision of security.74 In light of further
large, ruinous fires in the mid- to late 1570s and early 1580s—outcomes
of the abundant use of wood as the primary building material—a funda-
mental rethink of the nature of the settlement’s built environment
became urgent.75 After the reconstruction of Manila after a major fire in
1583, the opportunity to enact imagery as to what an ideal Spanish
36 Chapter 2
colonial capital city in Asia should be again arose. Although Manila was
initially established prior to the Law of the Indies, the grid plan in what
became known as the Intramuros (inside the walls) came into being by
the end of the sixteenth century. Notably too, with the appointment of
Gómez Pérez Dasmariñas as governor-general a stone fort was built,
and substantial city walls constructed—six meters high and four meters
thick (see figure 2.2).76 Brick and stone public and private buildings
were also erected for the first time. Tiled roofing was applied as well.
With its extensive two kilometer-long stone perimeter walls, and

from the mid-1580s edifices of brick, stone, and tile as well, Manila by
the end of the sixteenth century differed greatly from the collection of
nipa huts and wooden edifices that had made up the settlement at the
start of the 1570s. Moreover, because it was an expanding commercial
center, the local population grew in terms of racial composition and size
from about two thousand people in 1570 to almost thirty thousand by
the start of the seventeenth century.77 The establishment of the walled
city, surrounded by a substantial moat, in visual terms epitomized the
evolution of Manila following the onset of Spanish colonization.78
Manila was transformed from an assemblage of somewhat ramshackle
Figure 2.2. Walls of the Intramuros as seen from General Luna Street. The walled
city’s moat, filled in by the Americans in the early 1900s, is now a golf course.
Source: Author.
(and flammable) buildings into an imposing colonial capital. Visitors to

the city by the early 1600s were greatly impressed (see figure 2.3):
The streets of the city are beautifully laid out, and level, like those of
Mexico and Puebla. The main plaza is large, rectangular, and well pro-
portioned. Its eastern side is occupied by the cathedral the southern, by
the government buildings, which is a splendid palace—large, hand-
some, and very spacious. . . . The northern side of the plaza (opposite
the palace) contains the cabildo’s (city government) house, the jail, and
other buildings that belong to private persons (which also occupy the
western side).”79
It is important to appreciate what the Intramuros represented to the

Spaniards. With its fort, Fort Santiago, large-scale perimeter walls, and
grand public buildings, the walled city from the early 1600s presented
itself as an icon of Spanish colonial might in Southeast Asia. As a mili-
tary stronghold, the seat of government, the station of the Catholic faith,
and the exclusive residential quarter of the Spanish, the Intramuros
gained repute not only within the Philippine but also the continental
context. By circa 1600, Manila was already “well on the way to becom-
ing one of the more important urban centres of the Orient.”80 In spite of
this status, to appreciate what the Intramuros fully represented, it is vi-
tal to recognize what life both inside and outside of the city walls de-
noted. For example, it was on the land in the vicinity of the walled city,
territory labeled by the Spanish as the Extramuros (outside the walls),
where the non-European and native population lived. If the Intramuros
denoted civilization to the Spanish, then the Extramuros represented
lesser civilization, or more precisely lesser civilizations, given that from
Figure 2.3. Panorama of Manila’s plaza mayor, now known as the Plaza de Roma.
Source: Author.
38 Chapter 2
the 1580s the area about the Intramuros was used to segregate ethnic
groups. Locales that had formerly been home to native communities,
such as Parian and later Binondo, were given to the Chinese people.81
Dilao (now known as Paco), for example, was developed as a quarter
for the Japanese. Enabling the Spanish to regulate the mercantile activi-
ties of different racial groups, and at the same time guaranteeing secu-
rity and control over a population that vastly outnumbered the Europe-
ans, the creation of arrabales (outlying districts) in the Extramuros for
different racial groups permitted the suburbs to acquire distinct ethnic
identities. Significantly, too, by segregating people of distinct cultures
into separate districts, hispanization—culturally transforming people by
imposing Spanish mores and customs—was augmented. This relation-
ship between the Spaniards and the communities in the Extramuros, an
association influenced by Spanish experiences in the Americas with the
indios (natives), was to be imposed in ways that included the enforce-
ment of unpaid labor and the founding of churches. With reference to
the propagation of religious orders, and thus use of the Catholic faith in
acculturation, the Extramuros by the mid-1600s encompassed more
than a dozen churches and chapels. Crucially, in arrabales such as San
Miguel (founded in 1603), a distinct urban morphology was produced:
a central plaza was laid out and lined with a church, the priest’s resi-
dence, and houses for wealthy local families modeled on architecture in
Spain. Shops and houses for lower-status Filipino families were sited
away from the space. In this setting, the prominence of churches was not
just about establishing architectural monuments to God’s glory.82 The
presence of churches at the heart of new urban communities framed
Catholicism directly within the milieu of colonial power.
Fusing Christian conversion, cultural advancement and transfor-
mation, and economic exploitation with territorial conquest, Spanish
colonial rule in the Philippines endeavored to grant wealth and power
for the Europeans alongside material and spiritual enlightenment for the
local population. Colonial settlements were fundamental to this strategy,
the Spanish believing that “only in the milieu of towns and cities could
men and women live in full fellowship and achieve the highest measure
of their individual and collective potentials.”83 In the face of this philo-
sophical approach, one major obstacle to the development of colonial
settlements existed when Spanish colonization began: the population of
the Philippine Archipelago totaled about 670,000 people and was
unevenly dispersed geographically. Many of the thousands of islands that
made up the island chain were either uninhabited or sparsely inhabited.

Additionally, still-active precolonial settlements existed independent
from other places. This reality meant it would be logistically impossible
for missionaries alone to convert people to Christianity, and with it
instruct the native peoples in Spanish culture and laws. Consequently,
from the late 1500s forward, reducción was introduced to overturn long-
established precolonial urban-cultural patterns. Relocating scattered
barangays meant that Filipinos were forcefully clustered into compact
settlements known as poblacions (populations or towns) in which the
military, missionaries, and traders could, in practical terms, more easily
undertake functions fundamental to the existence of the colony. Bringing
the native population “under the church bells” made it easier for Spanish
priests to proliferate Catholicism, and such was the success of this strat-
egy that by 1898 more than a thousand such settlements had been estab-
lished.84 Moreover, the creation of poblacions had an urban ripple effect:
The Church was the nucleus of each settlement complex. . . . Due to the
importance of the Church in the Spanish colonial scheme, not only as a
religious institution but as an economic and political force as well, it
was to be expected that the population would gravitate towards the
edifice that symbolised its power.85
Invariably, in the vicinity of poblacions, subordinate urban communities

(barrios) would also be developed, and in proximity to them even smaller
settlements (sitios) established. This system, “reducing” the local popula-
tion into defined urban territories, had three effects in terms of Spanish
ability to control the indios in the Philippines.86 First, the existence of si-
tios was evidence of the resistance of Filipinos to settle far from their
fields. Accordingly, Spanish friars had to adapt “themselves to this fact of
Philippine life by constructing chapels in the larger villages. These came
to be called visitas, from the practice of the friars making periodic visits
to these villages to say Mass.”87 Second, Spanish administrative policy
outside the Intramuros ventured to preserve the traditional authority of
chieftains within their barangays, albeit now under Spanish direction and
control.88 Using the barangay as the basic unit of local administration,
the Spanish recruited poblacion and barrio officials from the tribal ranks,
and by confirming their political authority, converted datus into allies.
These individuals, and their families, granted a supply of low-level civil
servants whose social status was now bolstered by colonial r ecognition, a
40 Chapter 2
matter evident in their title of principalias. Third, in reiterating a prior

remark about challenges to Spanish rule, Muslim society was firmly es-
tablished on many Philippine islands by the mid- to late 1500s and Fili-
pino warfare also endemic. Because the Philippine conquest occurred at
the end of the Spanish colonial period, and because of the great geo-
graphical distance from Spain and the Americas, Spaniards were dis-
suaded from settling in Asia in great numbers. The few who did so lived
mainly in Manila, within the Intramuros. From the late 1500s until 1815,
when the last silver-laden galleon came from Mexico, Spanish economic
fortunes in the Philippine Archipelago came to depend on the erratic
Manila-Acapulco trade, annual subsidies from the Mexican viceroy, and
levies and labor services extracted from the native population.89
Urban Conditions in the Philippines circa 1898

When comprehending the character of urban settlements in the
Philippines at the end of the nineteenth century, some generic points
must be acknowledged. As a starting point, at the end of the 1800s, the
country did not have many large urban places. The largest was the capi-
tal city, Manila, which had a population of about 220,000 people.90
Furthermore, because it was many times larger than the next largest city,
Manila dominated Philippine economic, cultural, and political affairs
(see tables 2.1, 2.2, 2.3):
It is a common saying that Paris is France. In the same sense Manila is

the Philippines. In fact, the latter expression is more accurate than the
former, for Manila, besides being the capital city of the country, and its
chief port, is a city of over 200,000 people, while no one of the two or
three cities next to it in rank in population had more than 20,000.91
Also, urban places in the Philippines by the end of the nineteenth century
had a poor reputation owing to insanitary living conditions, a lack of basic
infrastructure, and frequent outbreaks of disease. Joseph Stickney noted
the prevalence of maladies such as dysentery, tuberculosis, smallpox, and
malaria.92 Manila, in particular, had a reputation for disease, filth, and in-
sanitary living conditions. It was a city characterized for many months of
each year by the presence of dirt: “Mud, deep abiding mud, is prevalent for
three-fourths of the year, and it is replaced by dust during the remaining
period,” commented British Major George Younghusband in 1899.93
Table 2.1. Population of Provincial Capital Settlements on Luzon Island in 1900
Province Capital Population
Cagayan Tuguegarao 17,358
North Ilocos Laoag 28,122
South Ilocos Vigan 12,000
Abra Bangued 13,500
Isabela Ilagan 13,049
Union San Fernando 14,542
Nueva Viscaya Bayombong 3,550
Zambales Iba 3,060
Pangasinan Langayem 14,120
Neuva Ecija San Isidro 6,900
Tarlac Tarlac 12,700
Pampagna Bacolor 17,100
Bulacan Bulacan 14,000
Bataan Balanga 9,000
Manila (Intramuros) 14,000
Manila
Manila (and hinterland) “about 300,000”
Cavite Cavite 3,000
Morong Morong 10,000
La Laguna Santa Cruz 13,800
Batangas Batangas 37,400
Tayabas Tayabas 16,900
Ambos Camarines Nueva Caceres 7,395
Albay Albay 10,600
Catanduanes Virac 6,843
Sorsogon Sorsogon 10,700
Source: Report of the Philippine Commission, 18–79.
Table 2.2. Population of Largest Settlements in the Visayas Region in 1900

Province, Island, Capital Population
or Island Group
Romblon Island Group Badajoz 9,461
Antique Sibolam 15,000
Capiz Capiz 22,000
Concepcion Concepcion 4,000
Western Negros Bacoclod 11,624
Eastern Negros Dumaguete 14,352
Cebu Cebu 14,300
Bohol Tagbilaran 9,471
Samar Catbalogan 6,072
Leyte Tacloban -
42 Chapter 2
Table 2.3. Population of Largest Settlements on Mindanao in 1900

District Capital Population
Zamboanga Zamboanga 7,634
Misamis Cagayan de Misamis 11,029
Surigao Surigao 9,254
Davao Davao 13,874
Cottabato Cottabato 1,012
Lanao “There are no organized towns or —
villages—only garrisons and forts.” (115)
As tables 2.1 through 2.3 collectively reveal, aside from Manila

the most demographically significant urban places in the Philippines
were by circa 1900 not large . Although other settlements existed that
were demographically greater than their provincial capitals—for exam-
ple, the largest settlement in the province of Cavite (on Luzon Island)
was Imus, which had a population of about fourteen thousand peo-
ple94—what is evident by the start of the twentieth century is that the
Philippine urban hierarchy was dominated, certainly in terms of popu-
lation size, by Manila. With a population including its hinterland of
approximately three hundred thousand people, Manila was conse-
quently many times larger than the Philippines’ second largest city,
Laoag.95 Despite its enormous scale in the Philippine context, the capi-
tal city did not enjoy the trappings of modernity as seen in settlements
of a similar size in, say, Europe, North America, and Southeast Asia,
such as Singapore and Hong Kong. Said to be short in supply of good
quality housing, Manila also had an outdated drainage system at the
start of the twentieth century. When “to these drawbacks are added
some dirt and dilapidation you have a combination to drive the average
American housewife to tears.”96
Manila, as noted, by the time of the fall of the Spanish Empire
comprised two distinct urban environments. As a city of environmental
and racial contrast, from the standpoint of public architecture the
Intramuros was Manila. With its thirty-two streets, nine bastions, seven
churches, two hospitals, and several schools, this district by 1898 was
the political, cultural, educational, religious, and commercial center of
Spain’s overstretched and underresourced empire in Asia. With its array
of grand public edifices and private residences characterized by their
overhanging balconies, barred windows, and red tiled roofs all reflect-
ing the architecture of Spain, the Intramuros was frequently labeled as
picturesque.97 In terms of house design, architecture in the walled city

was heavily built: “Thirty-inch walls are common in houses, whilst
from ten to twenty feet of solid masonry are to be found in the churches
and fortifications of old Manila.”98 With regard to the height of build-
ings, they—with the exception of the vertical elements on churches—
were low. Buildings commonly had few floor levels in part because of
the threat of earthquakes.99 Although the Spanish paid attention, obvi-
ously, to architectural design in order to make buildings structurally
sound and picturesque, unfortunately less thought it seems was given
to matters of infrastructure. By circa 1900, the Intramuros was observed
as being “a fearfully unsanitary place. It never had any kind of sewer-
age system. A description of private arrangements of residences is not
fit to print” (see figure 2.4).100 A similar situation was evident in the
Extramuros. Much of it was low-cost, poorly built residences.
Writing in 1906, Charles Forbes-Lindsay attributed the environ-
mental form of Manila’s suburbs as an outcome of the attitude of Span-
ish officials who, in his opinion, “displayed no interest in improvements,
and hardly an ordinary regard for his own comfort. His sole idea was to
accumulate as much money as possible and return to the ‘peninsula.’”101
Such a standpoint consolidated the experience of Younghusband, who
Figure 2.4. Photograph from the late 1890s of Ermita, a residential quarter in the
Extramuros. Source: Rizal Library, Ateneo de Manila University.
44 Chapter 2
traveling in Manila, observed that road conditions were “execrable, and

have no doubt made the fortunes of several public functionaries who
have had the handling of the money destined for their repair.”102 Of the
18,463 buildings listed in Manila in 1901, more than 12,100 were des-
ignated by the Americans as “shacks.” An additional 1,135 buildings
were labeled “bad.”103 In districts such as the Tondo, where drainage
about dwellings was poor due to sandy and clay fluvial deposits,
unhealthy living conditions and disease prevailed. The Pronouncing
Gazetteer and Geographical Dictionary of the Philippine Islands identi-
fied a host of sicknesses that plagued urban life. Many diseases, it noted,
were influenced by the nature of the climate. Illnesses such as malaria,
dysentery, and beriberi, a sickness confined to native Filipinos.104 The
bubonic plague, which was almost entirely limited to the Chinese popu-
lation, affected countless numbers annually. Another malady, smallpox,
was described as endemic.105 Cholera also intermittently ravaged the
population. Consequently, life within urban locales was far from safe.
The first US census of the Philippines stated that in 1902 the death rate
stood at sixty-nine per thousand people, and that average life expec-
tancy was 23.2 years. In Manila, the average age at death was just 20.8
years.106 Notably, too, the Americans observed that the causes of 93.9
percent of deaths in the Philippines in 1902 accounted for only 65 per-
cent of deaths in the United States that year. This and other realities of
life in Asia was to make a deep imprint on how the Americans were to
manage colonial urban environments.
As much as Philippine urban life was defined by the daily threat of
disease, so life, at least for numerous Filipinos, was defined by poverty.
George Miller remarked at the time that the average Filipino was always
poor: “If there is comparative plenty, there are two or three meals a day,
but if food is scarce there is but one.”107 In view of this, the American
governmental “attack” on ill health and insanitary urban environments
in the Philippines was to be channeled through a number of sources.
These included reforming people’s behavior in an attempt to promote
hygiene and medical care, such as a process bolstered by creating local
boards of health (in July 1901), establishing economic growth so that
with more money people could afford, among other things, better food
and housing and planning urban environments. Likewise, the Americans
strove to bring about a clean supply of water in cities such as Manila,
constructed new buildings in the city and in the provinces,108 removed
likely sources of disease (such as the clogged-up moat of the I ntramuros),
and built new sewerage systems. With reference to Manila, it was said at
the start of the twentieth century that no extensive sewerage system
existed: the handful of sewers that did exist (in the Intramuros) emptied
into the moat. This had the effect of transforming the water feature into
an open sewer. As a result, by the time Daniel Burnham submitted his
grand city plan to the War Department, the moat was filled in. So, as
chapter 3 explains, by 1905 an environmental turning point was reached.
In that year, after visiting the Philippines, Burnham imported modern
urban planning into Manila and Baguio. His two city plans, particularly
the monumental City Beautiful scheme for the national capital, became
a spatial model to restructure Philippine towns and cities in the years
that immediately followed. The renewal of Manila, as discussed in chap-
ter 3, was integral to the promotion of the American colonial govern-
mental tactic of reconciling the hearts and minds of Filipinos. The
revitalized built environment not only put into effect the conviction that
the Americans were toiling for the benefit of the Filipinos, “New Manila”
laid out in accord with contemporary American urban design theories
and practices also helped illuminate that the colonizers were concerned
with doing things for the sake of achieving.109 The restructured environ-
ment of the national capital city was to represent not just benevolent
assimilation but also American colonial benevolent intention. Vital to
this development was the unification of Filipinos.
Chapter 3
The City Beautiful and the Modern

Philippine Capital City
“Manila has before it an opportunity unique in history of modern times,

the opportunity to create a unified city equal to the greatest of the Western
world, with unparalleled and priceless addition of a tropical setting.”
T
o comprehend the restructuring of Manila’s urban envi-
ronment after the commencement of American colonial
rule, it is vital to appreciate the City Beautiful plan that
Daniel Burnham and his assistant Peirce Anderson developed. Tendered
as the “Report on Improvement of Manila” in June 1905 to William
H. Taft, the US secretary of war, the document outlined in just nine
pages a number of architectural and spatial proposals designed to insti-
gate “progress” within the Philippine capital city.1 Because the report
was directly dedicated to reconfiguring Manila’s urban environment,
Burnham and Anderson’s manuscript unambiguously laid bare what the
city as a “modern planned settlement” should be.2 As Gerard Lico points
out, the report not only bestowed a way to transform Manila into a
model colonial outpost, it also provided a framework to facilitate effi-
cient governance and signify the power and prestige of the American
colonial regime within the Philippine Archipelago.3
1898 and the Unmodern Philippine Capital City

To wholly comprehend what Burnham’s Manila was to physically
be, and what it was to represent to the Americans, necessitates under-
standing of three contextual matters: power negotiation between the
American colonizers and the Filipino population after 1898; events in the
Philippines in the years immediately before 1905, such as the Philippine-
American War of 1899–1902 and the cholera epidemic of 1902; and
events in the 1890s and early 1900s within American society associated
46
The City Beautiful and the Modern Philippine Capital City 47
with the evolution of architectural and urban design practices. It is also

necessary to be aware to some extent of American perceptions of the
Philippine capital city because, as Alden March noted in 1899, although
Manila was seen as worthy of a visit, it was not a place that Americans
should consider for permanent residency.4 According to American observ-
ers at that time, Manila abounded with problems: streets were badly
paved; houses regularly had problems with dampness and mosquitos;
sewers and modern transportation were not present throughout all of the
city; good quality hotel accommodation and theaters were absent; and
electric power, introduced in the city in 1893, was available only in the
more salubrious suburbs and along the docks.5 Trumbell White, for
instance, remarked that “Manila at night is very dull. After 10 o’ clock
the city is dead. . . . There is no theatre here, and it has been several
months since the opera has been on . . . It is almost impossible to imagine
a great city of 300,000 being as quiet as Manila at night.”6 To the Ameri-
cans, the question was asked how the Spanish could have been so indif-
ferent to their own well-being to permit such conditions. Yet the role and
significance of the city within the Philippine national context by circa
1900 must not be downplayed. On one hand, activities within the city
had a profound economic, political, and cultural imprint on the country
at large: “Of the cities and towns of the Philippines, Manila, the capital
of the Archipelago, ranks first in size and importance.”7 Although this
standing was to an extent exacerbated by the lack of other large-sized
cities in the country (for example, of the thirteen thousand or so urban
communities that existed by the start of the twentieth century about 75
percent had fewer than six hundred residents8), such a situation had been
historically manifest as a result of Spanish colonial policies promoting
religious, economic, and political affairs within Manila at the expense of
the maturation of the regional capitals. On the other hand, to come to
terms with Manila as a modern planned capital city was to be from 1905
onward, the impact of contemporary events within the North American
urban context is important to understand. As Gwendolyn Wright
explains, because colonial urban design is grounded in the importation of
architectural and spatial paradigms from the metropole, albeit then
adapted to suit the local conditions and the approach of the colonial gov-
ernment, inevitably with reference to the Philippines it is critical to grasp
urban design evolutions within North American society during the 1890s
and early 1900s.9 Accordingly, in this context, the rise and effect of the
City Beautiful movement is essential to understand.
48 Chapter 3
Grand Classicism, Master Planning, and American Imperialism

The years between the early 1890s to about 1910 are arguably one
of the most progressive eras in the history of urban design in the United
States. It was during this time that a number of developments converged
to generate the concept and practice of “modern American city plan-
ning.” In design terms, the epoch impressed onto the American mind a
new vision of what constituted a functional and beautiful urban environ-
ment, and central to this transition was a reform group known by the late
1890s as the City Beautiful movement. Yet, with reference to interna-
tional politics, the 1890s was also a very important age in American his-
tory: by the end of the decade, for the first time in its history, the country
had become an imperial power. The Spanish-American War (1898)
marked a turning point in the US chronicle, redefining the status of the
nation and affecting the form and meaning of urban design within the US
capital, Washington, DC, as well as in large-sized cities in newly acquired
overseas territories, such as Manila in the Philippines. In reference to the
Spanish-American War, the United States initially entered into hostilities
with Spain not with the intention of protecting American citizens or their
property within the nation’s borders, but rather in response to a number
of emergent factors in the Caribbean and Asia. These included accounts
of Spanish brutality in Cuba, growing domestic calls to expand foreign
trade, and anxiety over losing economic interests in Southeast and East
Asia in light of Russian, German, and Japanese imperial activities that, by
the 1890s, had given rise to fear among US politicians that China could
be partitioned. For example, when the USS Maine was sunk in Havana
Harbor, Cuba, on February 15, 1898, by an “external agency,” calls
quickly arose among American politicians to begin warfare against Spain,
the agency allegedly responsible for the vessel’s sinking.10 It is not neces-
sary to explain in detail the declining relationship between the United
States and Spain between mid-February 1898 and May 1 of that year—
the date Commodore George Dewey led a flotilla of American warships
into Manila Bay with the intention of destroying the Spanish naval
squadron.11 As discussed in chapter 2, Dewey’s success at the Battle of
Manila Bay unleashed a political and military chain of events that would
by December 1898 lead Spain to relinquish control of its overseas empire
and the United States to acquire one.
With reference to city design, a number of noteworthy develop-
ments took place within the United States during the 1890s and early
1900s. These occurrences affected the appearance, configuration, and
meaning of the American city. Among these evolutions was an alteration

in architectural taste, an issue that put emphasis on aesthetic faults
within existing built environments and, in association, led to a rise in
calls for architects and city governments to assume more responsibility
in directing urban growth.12 Notably as well, allied to this cultural shift
was a growing cognizance of the value of urban design to society’s devel-
opment. Not only was city planning increasingly recognized as a tool to
arrange urban environments, it also became identified as an instrument
to enhance the social and cultural condition of the country. Central to
this situation was a reform group known as the City Beautiful move-
ment. It sought to resolve social and environmental flaws apparent
within urban communities and highlight defects with urban government.
Inspired by French Beaux Arts design practices, and placing great value
on the creation of monumental, orderly public spaces and civic districts,
the City Beautiful movement by the start of the twentieth century had
bequeathed a new urban image for American society—a vision for a
shining urban future largely defined by the ideas and exercises of one
man, the architect-planner Daniel Burnham.13 Offering the most com-
plete urbanistic concept since the replanning of Paris and Vienna in the
mid- to late 1800s, City Beautiful urbanism promoted three allied design,
cultural, and political matters: beautiful cities represented moral, intel-
lectual, and governmental progress; urban design and citizenship were
coupled; and civic art as expressed through its largest spatial expression,
the city plan, represented the apogee of cultural development.14
To comprehend the City Beautiful movement and its aims, it is
worth recognizing the urban situation in late-nineteenth century Amer-
ica. By the last quarter of the century, US cities were typified by prob-
lems such as poor housing, overcrowding, poverty, government
corruption, a too-rich mix of nationalities, and seemingly uncontrolled
urban growth.15 Reformers, journalists, and authors—who included
Stephen Crane, Theodore Dreiser, Frank Norris, and Jacob Riis—
adroitly described the living conditions that the urban poor experienced;
many urban reformers as a result became alarmed about the possible
threat unchecked urbanization could have on the nature of society.
Equipped with virtuous civil and moral codes, the City Beautiful move-
ment, which was created by the coming together of progressive-minded,
middle-class individuals, aspired to instill environmental dignity and
order into the American built fabric. Utilizing classical architecture and
planning forms to offset the perceived moral deficiency and ugliness of
50 Chapter 3
cities, persons such as Daniel Burnham, Charles Mulford Robinson,

Charles McKim, Richard Morris Hunt, John Nolan, Edward Bennett,
George Post, Frederick Law Olmsted Jr, John Russell Pope, and Warren
Manning believed that stylistically reconceptualizing the city via the
construction of public edifices and laying down new boulevards and
parks in obedience to a visual-spatial whole would ultimately have a
positive social impact. These included, by way of example, eliminating
existing social ills, returning wealthy citizens to live and work within
urban environments, and putting US settlements on a cultural par with
places in Europe.
Guided by the urban redevelopment models of Paris and Vienna,
the former during the 1850s and 1860s being subject to the world’s big-
gest urban renewal project (under the supervision of Georges Eugène
Haussmann), and the latter from 1859 with its ringstrasse (ring street)
program conveying “the ideal image of the modern metropolis of the
19th century,” City Beautiful-ites believed that the restructuring of
American cities into artistic creations would do more than give mere
pleasure to citizens.16 More exactly restructured cities would inculcate
values and serve as tangible expressions of systems of thought and
morality. The urban environment would thus become a social unifying
force. As the examples of Paris and Vienna had showed, and to a lesser
degree London, Berlin, Helsinki, Prague, and Rome as well, the impulse
for design monumentality possessed a capacity to transform cities, espe-
cially capital cities, into something visually and spatially appropriate to
their national roles.
A motivating factor for members of the City Beautiful movement,
especially its doyen Daniel Burnham, was the École des Beaux Arts in
Paris. Europe’s leading school of architecture students were indoctri-
nated with the perspective that large-scale plans borne from an all-
inclusive approach to urban design would lead, first, to more effective
city planning and, second, would promote economy, efficiency, and good
citizenship.17 The success of Haussmann in transforming Paris from an
old, filthy, outdated city to a modern world capital demonstrated to
American designers that this planning rationale worked. Armed with
their education in France, American architects such as Hunt, Burnham,
Post, and the like imported such ideas into North America, and in turn
subsequently promoted City Beautiful urbanism and its benefits through-
out the United States through the conduits of architectural and planning
projects and of literature on urban design.
When endeavoring to assess the impact of the City Beautiful in the

United States, two cities—Chicago and Washington, DC—must be given
special attention. In Chicago, in 1893, the World’s Columbian Exposi-
tion was held, and in spite of its temporary existence redirected Ameri-
ca’s urban design narrative. With a large number of grand buildings laid
out in accord with a monumental axial plan, the event showcased the
foresight of carefully siting buildings, green spaces, statuary, and water
features within an urban setting.18 Designed by Daniel Burnham, with
assistance from landscape designer Frederick Law Olmsted, the orga-
nized exposition environment proved to be an object lesson in urban
designing: “it demonstrated to the American people the effectiveness of
the grouping of buildings in orderly relation to each other.”19 The nature
of the event’s setting with its common aesthetic was widely lauded and
had far-reaching impacts. It, for instance, revealed that modern Ameri-
can civilization could be distilled into a distinct visual and spatial form
manufactured by a trained individual, the architect-planner.20 Of weight
too, the style and arrangement of the exposition provided an uplifting
lesson in civics. The beauty of the exposition’s buildings and layout
made, notes John Reps, “a profound impression not merely upon the
highly educated part of the community, but still more perhaps upon the
masses.”21 Significantly, uncultured Americans, it seems, were “uplifted”
by the vision of beauty the event presented.22 By 1901, an opportunity
arose to execute a grand plan within an existing American settlement.
This opportunity surfaced within arguably the most important in the
United States—Washington, DC.
Designed by Daniel Burnham, Frederick Law Olmsted Jr, Charles
McKim, and Augustus Saint-Gaudins, the scheme to renew the US capi-
tal city—the McMillan Plan—spawned a fresh high point in the Ameri-
can urban design narrative. The creation of the plan had enormous
practical and symbolic implications. Nothing like the scheme, taken as
a whole, had ever been attempted in the United States.23 Because Wash-
ington, DC, was the political nucleus of the nation, to redesign it awoke
the country to the spiritual root of the settlement’s built form, that is,
Pierre L’Enfant’s 1792 urban plan. Additionally, the plan—partly by
reestablishing the hegemony of French urbanism in it—turned the city
into a model urban environment.24 Because urban designing in the
opinion of City Beautiful-ites had a central role in promoting civic val-
ues, it is important to appreciate, if briefly, the impact the revamped
capital city had on the American public, municipal authorities, and the
52 Chapter 3
nation’s architectural community.25 Implemented, to quote Isabelle

Gourney, “at the right time and in the right place,” the McMillan Plan
revealed that city planning was a vital element in municipal better-
ment.26 Yet, because the capital city was also revitalized when American
nationalism was enlarging, a matter in part connected to US imperial
activities in the Caribbean and Asia-Pacific Rim, its aggrandizement
also aroused much patriotic fervor. For this reason, its transformation
became associated with America’s sprouting sense of nationhood; to
cite Thomas Hines, the city “evoked an image of imperial splendor that
planners had deemed pertinent for the capital of the emerging Ameri-
can empire.”27 In relation to this point, because Washington is the capi-
tal of the United States, and because capitals represent the identity,
standing, and power of their nation-states, Washington’s built form
post-1901 was more than a locale for citizens to gaze at and admire.
Rather, the renewed city bestowed an urban environment that the coun-
try at large could identify itself with and, in theory, replicate overseas
given the country’s unfolding imperial ventures borne out of events tied
to the Spanish-American War.
The altered physical form and meaning of Washington, DC, after
1901 as a planned city evoking its nation’s aspirations and newfound
imperial image is clear from one feature: the Mall (see figure 3.1). A
broad, long, tree-lined lawn, the Mall redesigned as part of the
McMillan Plan reemphasized the axial relationship between the Capi-
tol, the White House, and the city’s prominent monuments, and pro-
vided a magnificent vista toward America’s principal public building,
the Capitol. Similarly designed spaces were proposed in other Ameri-
can settlements, such as Cleveland in 1903.28 In addition, because
American cities at that time were venturing to be both beautiful and
“progressive,” such spaces became central to defining what modern
urban designing was about: “the creation of grandiose architectonic
productions, that is, processional sequences of spaces and buildings
arranged as orderly units as modelled on the theories and practices of
Daniel Burnham.”29 Moreover, because citizenship was allegedly nur-
tured by “good city planning,” to place buildings, roads, and spaces
into a systematized configuration equated to the manufacture of ele-
vated citizenry.30 But this process of improving both the urban envi-
ronment and citizenship was, crucially, not confined to cities in the
United States: it was also evident in the Philippines where, from 1905
in Manila and Baguio, modern urban planning was implemented. City
Beautiful Manila, for instance, was—like Washington, DC—to be

defined by grand boulevards, parks, majestic public edifices, and invit-
ing public spaces. Burnham’s plan for the Philippine capital city was
to aid social progress and economic growth while stimulating social
harmony.
Figure 3.1. View eastward toward the Capitol and the Mall from the top of the
Washington Memorial in Washington, DC. Source: Author.
54 Chapter 3
Benevolent Assimilation, Urban Design, and the Philippines

In August 1904, Daniel Burnham was commissioned by the US
government to visit the Philippines to draft two urban plans: one for
Manila and one for the new summer capital city at Baguio. Visiting the
country between December 7, 1904, and January 16, 1905, Burnham by
mid-1905 submitted his “Report on Improvements at Manila” to the
War Department. Guided by the broad American colonial governmental
objective of socially engineering Philippine society “in our own image,”
the document presented a number of proposals intended to transform
the environmental character of Manila and “uplift” local society. Despite
the report’s being fewer than ten pages in length, its importance was
immense: it presented the first attempt by the American colonial regime
to plan a Philippine city for cultural, political, and economic develop-
ment. Significantly, too, in venturing to convert the Philippine capital
city into a spatial laboratory, the report’s proposed environmental
reforms would bring the colonizers into direct contact with cultural and
climatic conditions hitherto unfamiliar to them.31 These matters affected
not only what Manila in physical terms was to be, but also what the
restructured built environment was to denote. Given this backdrop,
without thoroughly appreciating the nature of America’s colonial mis-
sion, it is easy to overlook how Burnham’s plan for Manila was to sup-
port the generic US colonial governmental strategy.32 Two broad points
in this regard must now be raised. First, US colonial governance was
formed in such a manner as to promote societal betterment by both edu-
cation and example.33 In this milieu, Manila post-1905 was to be an
environmental archetype of “advancement” in Southeast Asia. Second,
the use of urban planning as a tool of colonial administration was not
fortuitous: the value of city planning was identified as early as 1901
when Elihu Root (then secretary of war) remarked that the Senate Park
Commission in Washington, DC, the organization responsible for imple-
menting the McMillan Plan, should visit the Philippines to give advice
“as to the treatment of the City of Manila.”34 Significantly, as a letter
sent on May 20, 1901, from Burnham to Elihu Root demonstrates, the
architect was heavily involved in making recommendations to the Office
of the Secretary of War as to “the architect or landscape man for Judge
Taft in the Philippines”35— the American architect who was to work for
the Philippine Commission. That individual was to be Edgar Bourne.
In January 1905, that is, when Burnham was still in the Philippines,
his initial planning concept for Manila was met with strong approval by
American politicians. By way of evidence on this, on January 14—two

days before Burnham left the Philippines—Cameron Forbes, the com-
missioner of Commerce and Police, wrote in his diary that “Mr Burn-
ham has prepared what seems to me a stunning plan.” It, he continued,
“will take many dozens of years and millions of dollars, and won’t be
completed while any of us are alive, but we can make a start on it.”
Given, as Forbes suggested, the need by the US colonial government to
invest both great volumes of time and money to ensure that the Manila
plan could be fully executed, the Philippine Commission before the
“Report on Improvements at Manila” was submitted undertook a num-
ber of environmental improvements based on, it appears, Burnham’s
draft plan (which was composed during his visit to the country). As an
example of the politicians’ eagerness to renovate Manila in Janu-
ary 1905, negotiations to construct a grand hotel near the waterfront
began. By February 1905, work commenced to fill in the moat about the
Intramuros. What is more, just a few weeks subsequent to this activity,
land was reclaimed from Manila Bay to extend Manila’s shoreline.36
Yet despite these noteworthy actions being initiated on the advice
of Burnham, the process of environmental improvement had in fact
begun before Burnham’s arrival in the Philippines. To illustrate this
point, in 1900 a law was passed to provide $1 million for the provision
of new bridges and roads.37 A survey of local buildings (by Montgomery
Schuyler) was also undertaken. In addition, new streets were laid down
and calls made to widen the entrances in the Intramuros’ walls.38 In
response to an outbreak of the bubonic plague and a severe cholera epi-
demic in 1901 and 1902, new sanitary regulations and infrastructure
were established. Fourteen new ordinances relating to the surveillance
and control of disease were created by the Municipal Board of Manila
in 1902. The moat of the Intramuros was drained as part of this sanitary
program.
From 1901 to 1905, a range of environmental transitions trans-
pired in Manila as part of the Philippine Commission’s strategy to
beautify the city, improve roads, and regulate local outbreaks of fire
and disease.39 With reference to the buying and selling of food stuffs,
seven new market buildings in the districts of Intramuros—Paco, Pan-
dacan, Quiapo, Santa Ana, Santa Cruz, and Tondo—were built, and
new rules introduced to govern the structural form of tiendas (small
thatch-covered shops or booths). Public toilets were also introduced
and outdoor washing and bathing banned. Existing utilities were
56 Chapter 3
extended. The provision of electricity, previously available only in cer-

tain districts, was from 1904 expanded after a new power plant was
built. For the first time, streets and houses in outlying areas were lighted
and the new supply of power also permitted the operation of electric
trams for the first time.40 New house types, including tenements, were
pioneered so that lower-class families could be rehoused, theirs having
been burned as part of disease control introduced in 1902 by the
Municipal Board. Reservoirs were proposed as well to supply clean
water throughout the city.41 Given such government activity, it could be
believed that Burnham’s plan for Manila merely added a new dimen-
sion to the ongoing urban environment management strategy promoted
by the city government. But then again, such an opinion would not fully
grasp the US motives for reforming Philippine society or indeed recog-
nize the purpose of planning Manila.42 With reference to these goals, it
must not be overlooked that if the Americans were genuine in their
quest to recreate Philippine society in their own image, that is, to repli-
cate American society in Southeast Asia, this could not occur just by
widening use of the English language, expanding the Philippine econ-
omy, constructing a new school system, establishing American-style
government practices, introducing improved public health, or the like.43
If comprehensive societal reform were to truly occur under American
supervision, the colonizers needed to alter the physical as well as cul-
tural and economic environments in which people lived. In other words,
the character of urban settlements had to change from their form at the
start of the twentieth century to something else, specifically, to planned
urban environments such as those found in North America. As it was,
circa 1900 the appearance and configuration of Philippine settlements
were unsatisfactory to the Americans. Health improvement, develop-
ment of a local education system, proliferation of English, local politi-
cal reform, economic expansion, and environmental reform were all
crucial to altering the makeup of Philippine society: each was intro-
duced by the Philippine Commission to bring about societal better-
ment.44 The American colonial mind-set meant that Philippine society
could not be comprehensively “uplifted” and “civilized” until people
spoke English, had more money, improved their cultural habits, and
cleanliness, and the physical environments in which they lived—the
towns and cities of the Philippines—had a new environmental form.
Therefore, in the context of the evolutionary narrative of the Philip-
pines, Burnham’s grand 1905 plan for Manila was a central way for the
colonial state to modify the condition of the country.45 Given that

Manila was the epicenter of Philippine society, the American thought
process also centered on instigating “advancement” within the capital
city so that it would inspire societal transitions within the provinces.
Burnham’s city plan must therefore be viewed as a conscious act to
place, albeit spatially, Filipinos on the “pathway of the world’s best civ-
ilization.” Hence Burnham’s recommendations in 1905 to renew Manila
extended beyond a concern for utilitarian improvement: his city plan
was a tangible way to liberate Filipinos from their uncivilized state of
being, to unite them into a single cultural collective, and to convey the
United States’ role as a “civilizer.”46
The New Road Configuration, Esteros, and Open Spaces

Manila’s population was recorded in the Fifth Annual Report of
the Philippine Commission as being approximately 219,000. Americans
at that time totaled about 4,400, Spaniards approximately 2,500, the
Chinese more than 21,200, and the native Filipinos as almost 190,000.47
The Americans anticipated that Manila’s population would rise in the
coming years and that the urban sprawl would substantially expand.48
The 1905 city plan was therefore to play an important role in aiding the
Philippine Commission to coordinate the capital’s spatial and demo-
graphic enlargement and, ultimately, to enact a pathway in which mod-
ern civilization and Filipino self-rule would be reached in the future.49 In
terms of road layout, the Extramuros in planned Manila was to encom-
pass a “rectangular system with diagonal arteries, intersecting in round
points and other formal arrangements” (see figure 3.2).50 At the water-
front along Manila Bay, a 250-foot-wide, seven-mile-long Sea Boulevard
“with roadways, tramways, bridle path, rich plantations, and broad
sidewalks” was to be constructed (see figure 3.3).51 Linking Manila to
the port town of Cavite, this roadway, a redevelopment of an existing
thoroughfare, was to do more than enhance communication between
the two settlements: it was to provide a new social environment for local
citizens.52 As Burnham and Anderson noted in their “Report on Pro-
posed Improvements at Manila,” the thoroughfare as a place of leisure,
a promenade, was to be “available for all classes of people in all sorts of
conveyances.”53 It was to be well shaded, such as with bamboo, palm,
and mango trees, so that people could promenade and be protected from
the sun.54
58 Chapter 3
Figure 3.2. 1905 plan for Manila. Source: Burnham and Anderson, Manila.
Trees planted along the Sea Boulevard, placed on the western-

seaward side of the roadway, were to be organized into specific arrange-
ments so as to “interrupt occasionally the view of the sea and, by thus
adding somewhat of the mystery, enhance the value of the stretch of the
ocean and sky.”55 Along with other new tree-lined roads, such as along
the Pasig River, where on the south bank a “River Drive” would connect
downtown to Fort McKinley in the eastern suburbs, the Sea Boulevard
(today known as Roxas Boulevard) was to assist in presenting a new
appearance for the Philippine capital city. Such a ploy had propaganda
value for the Americans: it was to help them demonstrate to the local
population the transition from colonial world to another and thus the
shift from the “backward” to the “advanced.”56
Figure 3.3. 1905 plan for Manila
with the Sea Boulevard.
Source: Burnham and Anderson,
Manila.
60 Chapter 3
The general street system suggested by Burnham sought to create

an urban form that was defined by a number of specific features:
1. Circumferential roadways, known as parkway boulevards, at

the urban fringe.
2. A major thoroughfare between the Pasig River in the center of
Manila and the port town of Cavite running parallel to the In-
tramuros and the shoreline of Manila Bay and labeled Sea Bou-
levard.
3. Avoidance of streets in the Extramuros being directly orientated
north, south, east, or west, thereby allowing “each of the four
sides of the house to have the advantage of direct sunlight at
some time during the day, with consequent gain in ventilation
and sanitation.”57
4. Diagonal arteries within the grid pattern of the Extramuros,
these permitting “direct communication from any city district
to any other,” operating as the main arteries of travel, and en-
suring (in the future) that “we never got a city that was hope-
lessly congested.”58
With the radial streets and diagonal arteries dividing the Extramuros
into more than 930 blocks of land, and with a grid pattern of macad-
amized roads prevailing throughout the city, circulation about Ma-
nila was to be enhanced relative to movement about the settlement
during the Spanish colonial era. This pattern of roads, described by
Burnham as “a fan-shaped system radiating from the center and a
tangential system skirting the inner city in a general circular direc-
tion,” would heighten movement to and from the urban core. Citing
the example of 1800s Chicago, Burnham remarked that a needless
amount of time and money was lost because of the inconvenient na-
ture of the street layout. The grid of Chicago, it seemed, was a hin-
drance to the circulation of traffic and people in that it did not permit
people to walk in direct lines from one point to another. The road
layout in Chicago, suggested Burnham, “may contribute to great di-
sasters,” such as fires. Drawing inspiration from Washington, DC,
“the best planned of all modern cities,” Manila was to develop with a
street pattern that merged a grid plan with diagonal arteries.59 It
therefore was to provide more liberated movement about the city
than had ever existed.
The width of Manila’s new diagonal boulevards was to be wider

than other thoroughfares in the Extramuros, and they also were to be
lined by trees and green spaces (see figures 3.4 and 3.5). They were wide
enough for electric trams to run along them and replace Spanish-era
horse-drawn vehicles and rickshaws—the Manila Times in April 1905
proudly proclaiming the day of antiquated, dilapidated transport was
now a thing of the past.60 These roads were to directly connect outlying
districts to the central core, and by doing so establish monumental vistas
between the urban fringe and the new civic core. Because trees were to
also provide shade for citizens as they walked about the city, the green
spaces alongside the new boulevards performed a secondary role of
boosting the visual character of Manila. Granting the appearance of
being somewhat park-like, these new roadways promoted new stan-
dards of urban beauty. However, as much as these new roads were
formed in such a way to elevate the appearance of Manila, and to pres-
ent a harmonious face to the city as one traveled about the built envi-
ronment, their design was affected by economics as much as aesthetics.
They were to have their centers and sides turned into lawns so that the
cost of laying out the roads and filling in space could be reduced. The
issue of keeping financial costs down affected the design of roads in
Figure 3.4. Roadways in the Extramuros laid down following Burnham’s 1905
plan, Padre Burgos Avenue. Source: Author.
62 Chapter 3
other parts of the city: new streets other than the diagonal arteries laid
out in the Extramuros were to be as narrow as the needs of traffic would
allow so that costs could be lessened.61 Such an occurrence was also
justified by the Americans on climatic grounds. Thin roads would not
expose citizens to prolonged sunlight.
From 1905, Manila was to have a spatial logic and appearance
that contrasted with what it had had under Spanish colonial rule. The
Figure 3.5. Roadways in the Extramuros laid down following Burnham’s 1905
plan, a thoroughfare in the district of Paco. Source: Author.
creation of long, straight, and sometimes broad thoroughfares, and the

integration of landscape architecture with the man-made environment,
was a major component of this transition. The creation of tree and lawn-
lined boulevards throughout the city, for instance, not only connected
districts and their populations formerly isolated from one another, but
also gave a new visual coherence to the urban environment. Yet to
wholly come to terms with the landscape design element of the 1905
Burnham plan, one must be aware of Manila’s natural features—its
waterfront, the Pasig River, and inlets (esteros)—and the American-
made environment (see figure 3.6). The incorporation of the natural
environment into the city plan was a central factor in the American
strategy to develop the Philippine capital not only aesthetically, but also
culturally and economically.
To recognize how and why Manila’s built form post-1905 was to
amalgamate natural and artificial landscape features, it is worthwhile to
appreciate that after the Battle of Manila Bay the Americans rapidly
realized how poorly developed the Philippine economy was.62 The limi-
tations of the existing port facilities aroused much debate among politi-
cians in both the United States and the Philippines immediately after
1898. Consequently, after the Treaty of Paris was signed, plans were
quickly launched to develop the port, such as by dredging parts of the
harbor, construct new breakwaters, and widen the mouth of the Pasig
River so that ships with large berths could dock.63 By 1903, a budget of
$3 million was set aside for port and river improvements; Burnham did
not miss the important economic function of the waterways.64 In the
1905 city plan, wharfs along the Pasig River near to the business dis-
tricts of Binondo and San Nicolas were to be enlarged.65 The esteros,
inlets of the Pasig River modified pre-1898 into canals, were to also be
cleaned and redeveloped.66 Furthermore, Burnham recommended link-
ing the port to the local train network so that goods could be brought
more easily to and from the docks.67
In a political context, to show themselves off as doers and thus in
contrast to the Spaniard who in American eyes had tolerated filth, disease,
and authoritarian government and had done little before 1898 to mod-
ernize or develop Philippine society, the Americans used the 1905 city
plan to unfurl Manila’s economic potential. One way the economy was to
be stimulated was by the development of shipping facilities at the harbor
and along the Pasig River: “river banks should be everywhere available
for the use of the public.”68 With new factory units being placed near to
64 Chapter 3
Figure 3.6. Estero de la Reina in Santa Cruz. Source: Author.
the Pasig River to help industrialists to “serve their own interests with-
out inconvenience to the public,” new quays and the increased use of
the esteros would augment the commercial function of the local water-
ways. Although the esteros and Pasig River had been used during the
Spanish colonial period for commercial activity, in part because Manila
did not have an efficient road system, they had operated as traffic ave-
nues for the distribution of cargo, the Americans nevertheless perceived
Manila’s thirty or so esteros as not operating by the early twentieth
century to their full potential. Besides, their unhygienic character was
widely known by the time the Americans assumed governmental con-
trol of the Philippines. As a subject for writers such as José Rizal, who
in the 1887 novel Noli Me Tangere (Touch Me Not) identified esteros
as being multifunctional (a bath, sewer, source of drinking water, and a
site for fishing and laundry cleaning), these watercourses by the end of
the Spanish colonial era were inextricably tied to disease. For sanitary
reasons alone, the Americans had to consider the rejuvenation of Ma-
nila’s water channels, yet Burnham perceived the value of the water
courses as being additional to matters of public health. However, public
health was important to Burnham because the negative repute of este-
ros evidently affected him. He considered them an unsightly element of
the urban fabric—“with their almost stagnant water and their unsani-
tary mud banks, [esteros] would appear at first sight to be undesirable
adjuncts of the city.” He recognized that with some investment their
usefulness with regard to economic growth, public health improvement,
and the promotion of urban beauty could be realized. To accomplish
such “visual uplifting,” he suggested that esteros should be widened,
that their water courses deepened, and that their banks be solidified:
“So treated they will offer an economical and unobjectionable means of
freight handling that will greatly contribute to the prosperity of the
city.”69 Furthermore, to reinvigorate the entire esteros system, he pro-
posed that some of the waterways should be filled in and others ex-
tended.70 Such an action, he argued, would permit greater physical con-
nectivity between previously separated districts and would enable water
from the Pasig River to be diverted at times of high flow. The risk of
flooding in the city, such as during the typhoon season, would diminish.
This renovation, he continued, would also turn esteros into objects of
aesthetic quality rather than entities formerly associated with disease.
They can, he proclaimed, “become, as in Venice, an element of beauty.”
All in all, he asserted, Manila with its bay as beautiful as the one in
Naples, its winding river as full of charm as the Seine in Paris, and its
canals similar to Venice “has before it an opportunity unique in history
of modern times, the opportunity to create a unified city equal to the
greatest of the Western world, with unparalleled and priceless addition
of a tropical setting.”71
66 Chapter 3
The establishment of beauty within Manila was fundamental to

Burnham’s city plan, as was the development of open and landscaped
spaces. New urban spaces were to take a variety of forms: shaded
walkways were to be created along river banks and boulevards; exist-
ing green spaces were to be extended, such as the Luneta; new sunken
lawns were to be laid out, such as by filling in the moat of the Intramu-
ros; and four large parks were to be established in the suburbs, each
about fifty hectares in size, and play fields scattered throughout the
city.72 Burnham advised that the large parks and a racecourse should
be sited at the urban fringe away from existing densely populated
areas. To explain this decision, some comment on the city’s topography
is warranted. A city that is generally flat in its central districts means
laying out large green spaces where the terrain undulates means going
beyond—in Manila’s case either east or north—the existing urban
sprawl. Yet flat land was also to be taken advantage of in planning
open spaces. Land at a bend in the Pasig River near the populated dis-
trict of Santa Ana, for example, was to be transformed into a green
space. Likewise, in proximity to the estero in San Antonio, a number of
green commons were to be established. Significantly though, irrespec-
tive of their location or terrain on which they were placed, all open
spaces in Manila were to be readily accessible to the public. New roads
were to permit ease of access to open spaces at the urban fringe and, of
note too, the new parks in the suburbs were to be connected to each
other by suburban “parkway boulevards.”73 These roads, bestowing “a
continuous journey entirely around the city from park to park without
losing at any point the refreshment of green foliage,” were inspired by
the design of settlements in France. Taking French park systems as a
model, Burnham stated that in traversing urban places in France “one
can often conveniently leave a narrow and ill-favored street and, with-
out loss of time, enjoy a journey at some distance along a well-shaded
parkway before again plunging into a less attractive quarter.” Import-
ing this European archetype into Manila, and seeking to fortify the
changed urban experience by erecting fountains within the new parks,
Burnham believed that such architectural elements would enhance the
charm of the Philippine capital. With ancient Rome in mind, he
observed, “Wherever one goes in Rome the gentle spray of water is
ready to refresh the eye and the ear.”74 Plus, in Manila where the cli-
mate in the summer months is exceedingly hot, fountains would aid
the manufacture of micro-climates so that people could enjoy the out-
doors without their experience being mitigated by the uncomfortable

tropical heat.
Within the bounds of Manila, Burnham sought to establish a range
of public spaces. Taking the example of the play fields established in
Chicago by the South Park Board, spaces covering more than a thou-
sand acres, Burnham intended to lay out similar open areas in the Phil-
ippine capital so as to aid the forging of community spirit. Against the
cultural setting of the city’s population of different racial groups, and
the historical reality that these communities during the Spanish colonial
era were deliberately kept apart to enable the Europeans to control
them, Manila’s new playfields—nine in all—were to grant an opportu-
nity to bring these people together. To refer to the example of park
spaces in Chicago, their sports facilities, buildings with rooms for public
entertainment and private reading, and swimming pools for adult and
child use, had, stated Burnham, provided a glue to bind the city’s people.
The impact of this new social bonding was not only apparent, he indi-
cated, in the rising sense of community sentiment but also in the decline
of local crime levels: “their general effect is a marked improvement in
the moral tone of the neighborhood.”75
Another important space within City Beautiful Manila was the
Luneta, originally laid out in the early 1800s near the seafront as a
small, oval park for the Spanish to promenade at dusk. Burnham recom-
mended in his city plan to enlarge it by a thousand feet westward onto
land reclaimed from Manila Bay.76 Positioned directly to the west and
front of the new civic center, the New Luneta (as it was to be known)
was to be kept free from planting on its seaward west front, yet enclosed
on the southern and northern sides by double rows of trees, “to provide
protection from the sun, and also in order to let the bay be seen in part
through a screen of foliage.”77 Jutting out into Manila Bay, and washed
by water on three of its sides, the extended space was, in the words of
the Times in 1910, a “more sumptuous Luneta.”78 Both public and civil
servants could not only readily see the bay framed in the distance by the
Isla del Corregidor (Isle of Correction) and the dormant volcanos of
Mount Mariveles and Mount Natib, but also the site of the great US
military victory over Spain in 1898. As the site from 1908 to 1939 of the
Manila Carnival, an annual event intended to draw together all com-
munities in the country, including the indigenous peoples of the moun-
tain regions, the New Luneta rapidly garnered a reputation for fostering
Philippine community spirit (see figure 3.7).
68 Chapter 3
Figure 3.7. Area of land reclaimed from Manila Bay as part of the1905 city plan.
Known as the New Luneta, it was also referred to as Burnham Green. Where the
grandstand (opened in 1949) is sited, Burnham intended to place his “water gate.”
Source: Author.
The New Civic Core

The nucleus of Spanish colonial rule in the Philippines was the
Intramuros. By the early 1900s, the district was said to be “one of the
few remaining examples of a medieval fortified town.”79 Given that
the district had great historical value as well as an imposing appear-
ance, Burnham’s 1905 report stated the need to preserve the district
even though it had long been closely affiliated with Spanish authority
in the Philippine Archipelago. Rejecting the notion of razing the Intra-
muros, Burnham recommended creating new entrances into it and
widening existing entrances through the city walls so that air circula-
tion and traffic movement could be improved.80 The stagnant moat
surrounding the district was to be filled with soil dredged from the
harbor and Pasig River. The Intramuros was to be converted into a
sunken garden.
Advocating the piercing of the Intramuros’ walls for the new
entrances only at the corner bastions so that the overall monumental
effect of the structures would not be diminished, Burnham explained
that the framework of the new road pattern proposed within the Extra-
muros would help establish grand vistas toward the Intramuros and
offer views inside the walled quarter for the first time. Manila, like capi-
tals such as London, Paris, Vienna, and Washington, DC, at the start of
the 1900s, was being transformed into an artistic entity—and would
become a “Pearl of the Orient.”
As mentioned, the grimy Intramuros moat was on sanitary and
aesthetic grounds to be converted into a lawn space that was to be
used as a playfield as well as to be a “proper setting for the old walls,
whose apparent height can be enhanced by establishing the level of
the sunken lawn as far below the neighboring streets as proper drain-
age will allow.”81 To supplement the area being a place of both beauty
and leisure, the city wall tops were to be planted with overhanging
vines, a situation analogous to the inner courtyards of the castle in
Tokyo. In addition, they were to be made available for the public to
walk on. Altering the defensive structures into “attractive lounging
places” devalued them as symbols of Spanish authority, especially
when viewed alongside the Intramuros as a whole.82 Burnham’s city
plan in essence deconstructed the district and what it had formerly
represented. No longer was the Intramuros to be the beating heart of
both the city and nation.83 Rather a new governmental core was to be
built. It was to be situated in the Extramuros, and the walls of the
Intramuros were to now merely stand as a background for it, as in
the ringstrasse scheme in Vienna. To upgrade the city so that it could
take its place within modern civilization, and by doing so present the
Philippines capital as the beating heart of a healthy democratic repub-
lic, Burnham recommended a new civic center. The moving of the
nucleus of the city from the Intramuros to the Extramuros had enor-
mous emblematic capital.84 On the one hand, it physically and sym-
bolically distanced the American colonial presence from the Spanish.
On the other hand, it helped signpost that a new colonial age for the
Philippines was under way, and as a consequence of the new era free-
doms and opportunities until then unattainable were now, in theory,
available to all.
Known as the Government Group, the new civic district was to
be built on land near Calle Nueva Nozaleda, the Luneta, Ermita, and
the Intramuros.85 To the Americans, this open land was known from
1898 as Wallace Field. With the Capitol as anchor, the group of adja-
cent new public edifices were to give the impression of a single archi-
tectural mass. In Burnham’s view, this would permit people to see the
civic center as an object of great beauty. With its symmetrical plan,
70 Chapter 3
the Government Group would not only possess visual dignity but
through its clustering of different offices also aid the efficient work-
ing of the colonial government as well. Such an arrangement was
historically inspired. It was said by Burnham to have been “put to the
test in notable examples from the days of Old Rome to the Louvre
and Versailles of modern times.”86As the “Washington, DC, of the
Orient,” the first such space in the Government Group was to be put
immediately to the east and rear elevation of the Capitol and to be
semicircular.87 Marked at its center by a monument “of compact plan
and simple silhouette,” the architectural feature was also the hub
from which tree-lined boulevards dispersed to different suburban
districts. Such a road layout was justified on two counts. From a
practical perspective, “the center of governmental activity should be
readily accessible from all sides.” On sentimental grounds, “every
section of the capital city should look with deference toward the
symbol of the nation’s power.”88 Although the primary axis ran east-
west, the new civic core had a major north-south alignment.89 For
Figure 3.8. Plan of the new civic core as proposed by Burnham. Source: Rebori,
“Work of William E. Parsons,” 306.
example, south of the Capitol was to be situated the Hall of Justice.

This home to the country’s law courts, commented Burnham, had a
noticeable site owing to the courts representing “the highest function
of civilized society.” Architecturally, he added, its exterior would
“speak the greatness of its function.” The effect of such a visually
pronounced edifice, one “magnificent in outward form and aspect,”
would compel local people to respect the rule of law. Quite simply,
remarked Burnham, the location, treatment, and approaches to the
Hall of Justice would present it as “a thing majestic, venerable, and
sacred”90 (see figure 3.8).
To the north of the new Government Center, along the axis of what
is today known as Padre Burgos Drive were to be placed Manila’s librar-
ies, museums, and exposition buildings (see figures 3.9 and 3.10). Termi-
nating at its northern end into a circular space, from which radiated
roads to three bridges over the Pasig River, Padre Burgos Drive was to
be marked on each of its sides by architectural features belonging to the
Spanish and American colonial regimes. Putting the fortified walls of the
Intramuros to the thoroughfare’s west, and American colonial buildings
to the east, Burnham intended to generate a unique street picture as
Figure 3.9. Public edifices from the 1905 city plan, former Department of Finance
Building, now the Museum of Anthropology. Source: Author.
72 Chapter 3
Figure 3.10. Public edifices borne from the 1905 city plan, former Legislative
Building, now the National Museum. Source: Author.
c itizens traveled northward from the new civic center. Because regional
and overseas mail arrived in Manila by boat, the new Post Office build-
ing was to be sited alongside the Pasig River (see figure 3.11).
Analogous to the siting of the Post Office, the new train station,
was to be in the Extramuros (in the district of Paco) at a central loca-
tion where prominent roadways met.91 One such thoroughfare, straight
and broad, directly connected the railway station to the Government
Group; other boulevards radiated from the transport hub to various
parts of the city. As a vestibule for Manila, the railway station was sited
within walking distance (one mile) of the new civic core. Hence, as a
newly arrived person to Manila exited the train station building, a
grand view to the Government Group, and in particular the Capitol
and its dome, was immediately apparent. With an approach to the sta-
tion being formed across a new bridge (over the Pasig River), and with
new rail lines connecting Manila to the hinterland, the railway station
was to also help people in the city access locations outside the settle-
ment’s bounds. Trains were to allow citizens of Manila to more easily
access the surrounding region, and in conjunction, thereby permit peo-
ple in the provinces to more effortlessly travel into the city.92 The impor-
tance of the physical connecting between Manila to its region is

discussed by Daniel Doeppers.93 With reference to the late Spanish
colonial era, Doeppers observes that land travel between Manila and
its hinterland for many months of the year was far from effortless.
Roads beyond the city’s suburbs were largely unpaved tracks that, in
the rainy season, became quagmires impassable to all but Carabao-
pulled carts. Second, estates beyond Manila’s urban fringe supplied
most of the fruits and vegetables to the city. The Americans, arriving in
the Philippines at a time when scientific debate was discovering the
causes of food spoilage and contamination, zeroed in quickly on the
threat of tainted food stuffs as a source of disease. Consequently, new
transport links to bring food to market, new market buildings, and
new sanitary regulations collectively would help reduce illnesses rang-
ing from diarrhea to cholera that had historically afflicted Manila’s
population.
In September 1906, Burnham submitted his “Report on Proposed
Passenger Station,” in which he justified the siting of the new train sta-
tion in Paco on three grounds. The first was economic. He contended
that to put a rail station in the center of Manila where land values were
Figure 3.11. Juan Arellano’s Central Post Office Building as seen from Plaza
Lawton. Source: Author.
74 Chapter 3
high would make the project very costly. He consequently sought to

site the new station one mile from the civic core, one and a half miles
from the Intramuros, and one and three-quarter miles from the business
district of Escolta. Justifying the decision with reference to Paris, New
York, Mexico City, St. Petersburg, London, Berlin, Vienna, and Buda-
pest, each of which had their primary rail stations at least one to two
miles from their central business districts, he also stipulated the need
for space for freight buildings and sorting yards. But, given the location
of the port and business district in Manila, these needed to be placed
on the north bank of the Pasig River. Consequently, as shown in his
1905 city improvement report, Burnham intended to place rail storage
sheds, coal yards, cleaning yards, and the like near a bend in the Pasig
River. Third, siting the train station away from the central districts
would allow future possibility for a “belt line” to be laid around the
enlarging urban sprawl, which in 1905 measured five miles north to
south and three miles east to west. All in all, he concluded, if Manila’s
main rail station was to be positioned away from the downtown, and
the 1905 city plan as a whole was to be carried out as originally
intended, then it “will make the city a delightful place of residence and
do much to enrich the whole archipelago. To slash the town with rail-
roads . . . will be to serve notice to all that Manila is not to be a pleas-
ant place of residence.”94
Burnham’s quest to generate a highly impressive image of Manila
to visitors was promoted by carefully placing new public edifices in par-
ticular locales, and by the buildings being organized in relation to each
other.95 The use of grand planning lines was especially evident in and
about the Government Group. The district’s principal axis, for instance,
ran east-west and was to be marked by a number of features, such as
monuments, the dome and main entrance of the Capitol, and an eighty
Figure 3.12. Panoramic view of Rizal Park, the space that was to be Manila’s
version of the Mall in Washington, DC. To the right of the view is the Rizal
Monument. Source: Author.
meter by 250 meter mall (see figure 3.12). Significantly, the Government
Group’s central alignment extended out of the district. To the east, it
radiated from the rear of the Capitol in different directions along grand
avenues, such as to the train station in Paco. To the west, it continued
across the Sea Boulevard and the New Luneta to the shoreline where “a
special pier with enlarged approaches and suitable accessories will lend
itself to treatment in accord with this function as the principal water
gate of Manila.”96
The development of the pier, and the enlarged Luneta directly to its
rear, was a basic component of Burnham’s scheme, along with new
roads, parks, and buildings, to help forge a new face for the Philippine
capital city. This visual transformation, what the Times in 1910 described
as recreating an old-world settlement into a modern commercial city,
was post-1905 to be immediately evident to any visitor arriving by
boat.97 Converting the city’s Spanish-era promenade into a seaside park
superior to anything in Southeast Asia was to help provide a striking
introduction to the city. The initial image of the city to persons arriving
by boat was to be enhanced by the edifices lining the space. On the
southern wing of the open area were to be sited the residences of the
most important American politicians in the Philippines, such as the gov-
ernor general, major general, and vice admiral, and new social clubs.
They were sited in close proximity so that Manila would have a social
center.98 Opposite these buildings, on the northern side of New Luneta,
on a site measuring 164 meters by 205 meters, was to be a large, high-
class hotel.
In light of complaints that Manila at the onset of US colonial rule
lacked high-class accommodation and associated facilities necessary to
attractive foreign visitors, the new hotel close to Burnham’s “water
gate” was to be built on a scale and with a sense of grandeur unique to
the Philippines. The hotel, named the Manila Hotel, was from the out-
set intended to be “renowned the world over and constitute in itself
alone an attraction strong enough to draw to Manila every traveler in
the Orient” (see figure 3.13). Sitting on an unencumbered site, it was
anticipated that as the volume of visitors to Manila increased, land
near to the Manila Hotel would be developed for boat clubs, a casino,
and a public bath. This concentration of leisure amenities at the water
front would “make possible an attractive social life that will bring
many influential people to Manila and count for much in the prosperity
of the islands.”99
76 Chapter 3
Figure 3.13. Front elevation of the Manila Hotel. The high-rise extension was
added in the mid-1970s. Source: Author.
The Altered Urban Image, the Grand Imperial Axis,

and Philippine Nationhood
Burnham’s plan for Manila incorporated many elements: economic
expansion, the development of social facilities, an improvement in pub-
lic health, and the beautification of the built environment. Yet the mean-
ing of the city’s visual and spatial revamp must be understood both
literally and figuratively. For example, the renewal of Manila had con-
siderable propaganda value for the Americans: the renewal of the capi-
tal city aided the colonizer’s capacity to tangibly demonstrate to the
Filipinos that a new era was under way and that the intentions of the
American regime were not the same as those of the Spanish government.
To this end, great symbolic meaning was attached to the shifting of the
city’s and nation’s governmental buildings outside the Intramuros. In the
words of George Miller, “Manila—historic, aesthetic, artistic, architec-
tural and ecclesiastical Manila—is the Walled City. There is no account-
ing for Philippine history without Intramuros.”100 In this context,
Burnham’s monumental city plan, with its attention to the development
of the Extramuros, was to help broadcast that “modernization” and
“progress” were immediately transpiring as a result of the American
presence in the city. Then again, as symbolic as the Intramuros was of
Spanish colonial authority, Burnham never raised the need to demolish

it. Noting it as being of picturesque appearance, Burnham in his 1905
report unequivocally stated that the district “should be maintained.”
Noting its distinctly Spanish appearance, he remarked that “the effect of
the whole is unusually pleasing.” Indeed, so taken was Burnham by the
appearance of the Intramuros that he sought to promote the existing
local colonial vernacular in American architectural projects in the Phil-
ippines. One rationale for this decision was the adaptability of the Span-
ish colonial architecture to the climatic conditions of the Far East. For
example, the presence of wooden buildings with overhanging second-
floor levels and window screens was, he said, “convenient, practical, and
artistically admirable.” Additionally, their tiled roofs were not only
attractive but also had the added benefit of being cost effective: “While
the cheapness of the iron roof recommends its use for temporary service,
there is no doubt that for permanent buildings the long-lived Spanish
tile will prove more economical.” So, all things considered, Burnham
concluded that costly structures erected from stone such as those in
Europe and North America in the early 1900s were unsuited to Manila.
One reason was, as mentioned, climatic. Another motive for maintain-
ing existing architectural traditions was the risk of natural disaster. On
this matter, he remarked that should the Americans construct “modern-
age” buildings they must have flat walls, be simply built if concrete is
used, and have steel reinforced rods within their structures so as to resist
earthquakes. Visually, he argued, beautiful proportions rather than
costly materials were most desirable: “The old Spanish buildings with
their relatively small openings, their wide-arched arcades, and large wall
spaces with flat whitewash, possess endless charm, and as types of good
architecture for tropical service, could hardly be improved upon.”101
However, with regard to the new civic core in the Extramuros, its build-
ings, large in scale and classical in form, were to be laid out in strict
accordance with axial lines so that a meticulously symmetrical arrange-
ment could be made. Notably, the primary east-west route through the
Government Group and the Mall to the “water gate” at the shore con-
tinued westward across Manila Bay for more than forty kilometers to
Corregidor Island. Accordingly, as boats entered into Manila Bay, they
would turn past Corregidor Island onto an alignment that would take
them directly to the water gate and the Capitol. Therefore, as travelers
disembarked at the front of the New Luneta their first land view of
Manila was the New Luneta and environs, and to the background the
78 Chapter 3
Capitol, whose central axis was marked on the Mall by a statue to the
Philippine national hero, José Rizal.
Burnham’s 1905 plan for a city perceived by the Americans circa
1900 as wholly deficient in “modern character” was to help unleash
Manila’s potential. Whereas before 1898 it was rare for buildings other
than churches in the city to have more than two floors, after 1905 the
objective was to restyle the cityscape and urban morphology so that
Spanish-Catholic spatial logic was diminished and, with the domination
of the Capitol dome over the skyline, a secular society could be pre-
sented. Envisioning the modern American city within Southeast Asia so
that Filipinos could detect the superior nature of their country, the strik-
ing impression of the new roads, buildings, and urban spaces was, Dan-
iel Doeppers explains, to be a signature of the US imperial presence in
Manila.102 Accentuating that after the end of Spanish colonial rule and
the commencement of American rule, the Government Group and not
the Intramuros was the political or cultural nucleus of the country, the
1905 city plan firmly promoted the accessibility of the new colonial
government to the Filipino population via boulevards running to and
from the suburbs to the civic core in the Extramuros. The capacity of
people to see the Capitol and other government buildings as they trav-
eled about the city was meaningful. Vistas were to permit the public to
look with reverence toward the emblem of American colonial govern-
ment, the dome of the Capitol, and the nation’s bureaucrats to look out
to the city and its people over whom they were to serve. Such a plan was
designed to support the process of “uplifting” and “civilizing” local
society.
To appreciate how city planning was to declare that a new age had
begun for the Philippines and its people, and at the same time to pro-
mote Philippine nationalism, we must consider the role of vistas in
Burnham’s Manila. Permitting all social and racial groups to individu-
ally and collectively observe public institutions operating on their
behalf, City Beautiful Manila was to encourage people by the city they
saw to blend into a single, cohesive community. In abstract terms, Denis
Cosgrove explains, establishing views of particular urban features per-
mits citizens to acquire ownership of what they see. Additionally, it
emphasizes that what you see is a reality belonging to the now.103 For
the Americans, this helped enforce the point that history, that is, the
narrative of Philippine society up to 1898, had been arrested. Before
1898, the city’s racial groups had been kept apart (by the Spanish) and
disdained one another, and government institutions were kept hidden

behind the walls of the Intramuros. After 1898, thanks to Daniel Burn-
ham’s importing the City Beautiful archetype into the Philippines in
1905, new roads and urban spaces were to forge a facility for all people
to freely see public offices, observe civic rituals, and intermingle. Parks
and shaded walkways such as the New Luneta, the Sea Boulevard, and
along the Pasig River were especially functional in this regard. Consoli-
dating the union of Filipinos by other deeds, such as developing an Eng-
lish language education system, establishing public holidays for days
other than Christian festivals, sanctioning political campaigning, and
the like, social and racial barriers of the Spanish colonial era were con-
sequently to be removed. The Americans hoped that this situation would
help convince Filipinos to consider themselves, for the first time, as “one
people.”104
To promote the uniting of Filipinos, and Filipinos with Americans,
the role of green spaces must be acknowledged alongside the function of
grand vistas. Whereas merging buildings with landscaped spaces was to
assist Manila in having attractiveness equal to the greatest cities of the
Western world, green spaces such as the Mall in the vicinity of the Gov-
ernment Group facilitated awareness of the Filipino nation. This emo-
tion was to come about by a monument dedicated to José Rizal marking
the space’s and the Capitol’s central alignment.105 Linking the city’s
chief post-Spanish-era urban space with filipinism, Burnham’s city plan
thereby articulated the amalgamation of the greatest in the Philippines
with the greatest of the Anglo-Saxon.106 As Renato Constantino makes
clear, the American colonial regime strove to identify and honor a Fili-
pino hero to channel local anger against Spain, dampen animosity
toward the Americans, and encourage unity among the local popula-
tion.107 By erecting a monument to Rizal within the Mall, the Americans
fashioned a rallying point for Filipinos and sustained Rizal’s belief that
Filipinos belonged to a single political-ethnic collective.108 By using
urban space to sanction being Filipino, the Philippine Commission via
Burnham’s city planning model could establish feelings of homogeneity
among local people despite their diversity of social and racial groups,
dialects, and cultures. As an exercise in social engineering designed to
bring people together as ‘a nation,’ Burnham’s 1905 urban planning
paradigm in the context of the US colonial governmental objectives
enabled the Americans to exploit visible environmental features like
public buildings, public spaces, and statues to fuse Filipinism to the
80 Chapter 3
“modern Philippine planned city.” The Rizalian unification of Filipinos

in space as exemplified in ceremonies and rituals about statuary, that is,
new invented traditions, illuminated how the Americans focused on the
need to manufacture among Filipinos a concept of “us” as part of the
process of their country’s uplifting after 1898, a process that by its very
nature portrayed the Spanish as a “them” that had done little to initiate
modern civilization in the country.
Veneration and Militarization: Physical Space and Abstract Space

Two subjects, American regard for José Rizal and the military
dimension of the early US colonial rule in the Philippines, affected the
form and meaning of Daniel Burnham’s Manila plan. This analysis
explores two related complementary types of urban space: physical
space, that is, real space, and abstract space. The latter, one of ideals
and intents, Estela Duque contends, was envisioned by the Americans
to serve the munificence of their colonial regime.109
As discussed earlier, the central environment of City Beautiful
Manila was to be distinguished by an axis marked from the Capitol by
a Mall akin to that in Washington, DC, on which a monument to José
Rizal was placed (see figure 3.14). Although this element might be
grasped as expressing the power of American colonial rule over Philip-
pine society, the green space for reasons already explained must also
be appreciated for being the Philippine’s first necropolis dedicated to a
national hero and, in conjunction, for promoting Filipinism. As Con-
stantino outlines, promoting Rizal as a hero was a political strategy
designed to draw the local population together. In undertaking it, Phil-
ippine nationalism as a colonial construct was promoted. However,
the American process of manufacturing new urban spaces to bring the
local population together under a single identity must also be recog-
nized as being swayed by military matters because Manila was so crit-
ical to the Americans’ capacity to maintain authority within the
Philippine Archipelago. Although the 1905 Manila plan sought to
develop transport infrastructure and commercial activity to address a
purportedly defective culture and tenuous economic subsistence, Estela
Duque explains that, the policy of benevolent assimilation aside, the
requisite of governmental security meant that the city’s renewal incor-
porated military defense elements.110 The Burnham and Anderson
“Report on Improvements” made only passing reference to military
matters. Nonetheless, the enlargement of Manila’s arrabales (suburbs)

was, Duque contends, fundamental to the US plan of shifting the city’s
physical and metaphorical focus from the Intramuros and Fort Santi-
ago—the nation’s key military compound before 1898—to the Gov-
ernment Group, Mall, and Rizal monument.
Furthermore, as part of the Americans’ early 1900s urban secu-
rity procedure, notable Spanish colonial-era buildings in Manila, such
as the Hotel de Oriente at the Plaza de Calderon de la Barca in Binondo
(built in 1889), were appropriated. The Hotel de Oriente was trans-
formed into the civil police headquarters. Likewise, the Americans not
only took over large buildings but also existing military facilities, such
as Fort Santiago. Similarly, they established new military posts. Fort
McKinley, established in 1901 at the urban fringe and connected to the
central districts in the 1905 city plan by the new River Drive along the
Pasig River, was built to provide accommodation and other facilities
necessary for the large numbers of military personnel needed to deal
with internal threats to social stability at that time. The American
capacity to control Philippine society from suburban Fort McKinley
was supplemented by redeveloping the port and establishing new
urban spaces other than those Burnham suggested. In this context,
restructuring the built fabric was both a product and an instrument of
societal transition. For example, by connecting provincial towns and
cities to Manila by new rail lines at both the port and the new central
station in Paco, the structures and the spaces about them were in the
minds of some within the colonial government now associated with
disease and social instability.111 Cholera in particular could spread
more rapidly, thanks to modern transportation, and so posed a greater
risk to the public than it had before.112 In addition, with the introduc-
tion of large numbers of male soldiers to the Philippines, and given
their need for recreation, the government created zones five miles from
military establishments where the selling of alcohol and prostitution
was prohibited.113 Such territories, where the behavior of soldiers was
controlled, were part of a governmental program of limiting potential
public threats. In consequence, the port, the central railway station,
and dry zones, to give three examples, were not just backdrops for
broad transitions in Philippine society but also spaces in their own
right with distinct meanings. This is explained in Henri Lefebvre’s
theory of space.
Figure 3.14. Map of Manila dating from 1917. Source: Unattributed, in author’s
possession.
The American colonial state used urban space to instigate physical

and symbolic changes within Manila, and in doing so made a distinction
between the “old” and “modern” worlds. Under Lefebvrian logic,
Manila’s built fabric as Burnham proposed it in 1905 had both an
abstract and a real form. Urban space does not exist in itself but rather
is produced, and the manufacture of space is inextricably tied to social
reality, which gives it three noticeable values.114 These are as follows:
spatial practice, or activities that take place within space; representation
of space, or imagery that defines a space; and spaces of representation,
or symbolic dimensions of space. Under Lefebvre’s schema, space physi-
cally unites particular human interactions and activities; given the dis-
tinct morphology of the space, the actions and activities within it express
and evoke norms, values, and experiences. Because space is charged with
imagery, its use encourages the population to possess and augment par-
ticular sentiments. To paraphrase earlier comments, the reformed built
fabric of Manila had the function of allowing the local population to see
first-hand the modernization of their society, and through visiting spaces
such as the Mall to become aware of Philippine martyrdom and the
development of nationhood. Moreover, because everyone was free as
they traveled about the built environment to see the Government Group
and capitol, they were able to appreciate a governmental system operat-
ing to build a national future with economic, political, and cultural
opportunities and freedoms unimaginable before 1898.
To capture the feeling of sacrifice for the development of the Phil-
ippine nation, the Mall in Manila was situated near to where José Rizal
was executed by a Spanish firing squad in December 1896. The Mall, by
also amalgamating land from Bagumbayan Field and the Luneta, which
by the 1890s the Spanish government also used as an execution ground,
meant that it was inextricably associated from 1905 (in the Burnham
plan) with Filipino sacrifice. This sentiment was certainly not lost on the
Americans, who, on arriving in Southeast Asia, became aware of the
feeling among many Filipinos that Bagumbayan Field was a site for
martyrdom and that one victim of the Spanish, Rizal, had had a vision
of civil rights and political independence for his country. Referred to by
Filipino revolutionary leaders such as Andres Bonifacio and Emilio Agu-
inaldo as maginoo (highest of the high), Rizal became venerated as the
hero of the Philippines not long after the Treaty of Paris was signed.
Despite an edict being issued by the government of the Philippines
Republic in December 1898 to designate December 30 as a national day
84 Chapter 3
of mourning for Rizal and other victims of the Spanish government,

against this backdrop William H. Taft, the Philippines’ first civil gover-
nor, encouraged people to identify Rizal as their champion, and by so
doing to understand him as the nation’s greater liberator from oppres-
sion, that is, Spanish imperialism.115 In due course, urban districts, cities,
and even a province was renamed Rizal. The passing of Act No. 243 in
January 1905 to grant the use of public land in Bagumbayan Field as a
site for a monument was an American tool to remind people that not
only was Rizal executed nearby, but also that by collectively having ado-
ration for a champion of Philippine independence this goal could only
be achieved thanks to American colonial governance and its instruction
of Filipinos in “proper government.”116 Placing the Rizal monument on
an alignment that extended westward toward Corregidor Island both
reiterated to visitors to Manila a sightline of both an American imperial
and native disposition and explicitly exhibited the “constructive part-
nership” built between the Americans and Filipinos after 1898.117 The
visual reference to Filipinism in people’s first sight of the center of
Manila underscored the cohesion of the colonizers and colonized popu-
lations in the accomplishment of self-autonomy at a time when Filipinos
were first finding their place within the modern world. But, for all its
association with social development and the construction of modernity
and Philippine nationhood, the execution of a new urban design para-
digm in Manila was not without its critics. Many local newspapers pro-
fessed that the cost of reshaping the Philippine capital city could have
been spent in better ways. La Vanguardia, for instance, declared “embel-
lish the city . . . but not at the cost of the health and the lives of the great
part of the population.”118 El Ideal in parallel remarked, “what use will
it be to beautify part of the city if not the health and sanitary conditions
of the most populous sections are attended to?”119 El Commercio added,
“let necessary and urgent things be done before superfluous things, and
it is urgent to improve the very populous workingmen’s barrios.”120
Such criticism was not exclusive to Manila. The new city designed by
Burnham at Baguio, another place with physical and abstract spaces,
was seen by some Filipinos as an encumbrance to national development
given the volumes of money the Americans spent on turning a wilder-
ness into a modern city. To conclude, the creation of new spaces in
Manila, and in Baguio and the provincial capitals of Cebu and Zambo-
anga, exposed a difference between governmental intention and action.
For though the goal of Burnham’s planning paradigm was to unite Fili-
pinos, it also created a resistance to the power of the colonial state. To

cite Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin, when examining
urban spaces, albeit in the context of this work created by the Ameri-
cans after 1905, it is possible to trace the way that state power was not
only enforced but also resisted.121
Chapter 4
Baguio
The United States’ City Beautiful
in the Philippine Uplands
“This wonderful city should be known the world over, and tourists
should not miss it while travelling in the East or around the world.
As a health resort, as a model city, as a flyless city, there is no place
like it, no matter where.”
T
he transformation of a barren site five thousand feet
above sea level in Benguet Province into a modern
planned city stands out as perhaps one of the greatest
achievements of early American colonial rule in the Philippines. Even
though this new city in the north of Luzon Island was, in comparison
with Manila, small in demographic scale and spatial extent, the settle-
ment, Baguio, had two nationally significant traits.1 First, it had political
worth in light of its status as the nation’s summer capital city.2 Second, it
was widely acknowledged as being boundless in its beauty given the tying
together of the urban plan with the picturesque natural environment. For
these reasons, against the backdrop of the US colonial government’s goal
of expanding civilization in the Philippine Archipelago, if it is understood
that Manila was planned by Daniel Burnham in 1905 so that it would
become the modern US capital in Southeast Asia, then Baguio must be
appreciated as the jewel in the colonial urban environmental crown. Cer-
tainly in terms of its visual charm, Baguio then and now has no equal in
the Philippine urban context. Although Baguio began as an American
concept, it has since the early 1900s evolved into a unique and integral
part of Filipino culture. Central to the concept was, first, use of uneven
topography in its urban form. It, Christopher Vernon writes, “became the
medium for America’s colonial message.”3 Second was the intention to
establish Baguio as the epicenter of modernity in the Cordillera region.
86
The United States’ City Beautiful in the Philippine Uplands 87
As a place designed to accommodate a population of no more than

twenty-five thousand inhabitants, Baguio was to have its central district
laid out on relatively flat terrain surrounded on all sides by rolling hills.
One of these inclines, to the north, was to be used for siting municipal
buildings such as the city hall. Another, to the south, was to be for edi-
fices belonging to the national government. Configured with a grand
central axis between the local and national government buildings situ-
ated at opposite ends of a valley, the urban core of Baguio was in the
words of its planners Daniel Burnham and Peirce Anderson designed as
a single, cohesive composition. This, they suggested, would produce “the
finest possible result.”4
The plan for Baguio, prepared simultaneously with that of Manila,
was greatly influenced by the topography of North Luzon, which, in the
words of William E. Parsons, was “extremely irregular” (see figure 4.1).
In spite of the difficulty in laboring to devise a large-scale urban plan on
land of undulating character, Burnham and Anderson nonetheless sought
to establish “formal arrangements,” that is, geometric planning lines,
within Baguio’s plan. This situation, it was said, reflected their lack of
desire “to revert to medieval forms with a conscious effort for the pic-
turesque, as is found in town plans of modern Germany.” Consequently,
their preliminary design proposal, published in October 1905, adeptly
amalgamated a symmetrical road pattern and symmetrical urban spaces
with the distinctive natural landscape. The result was a unique urban
environment: “Composition obedient to nature is the controlling
principle.”5
Although it could be assumed that the notion of instituting a sum-
mer capital city in the picturesque surroundings and temperature cli-
mate of the Philippine uplands was American in origin, in actuality the
idea was Spanish. However, as revealed in chapter 2 and chapter 3,
because of the Americans seeking to emphasize their doing mentality,
and of the nature of American perceptions of Filipinos and Philippine
society circa 1898, without undertaking pragmatic deeds it was thought
that the Philippines could never be “uplifted” or “civilized.”6 Thus the
American driven process of transforming a rural landscape in the north
of Luzon Island into a modern cityscape was, like the redevelopment of
Manila, vital to the colonial governmental goal of forging a new state of
being for the Filipinos. For Benguet Province, this meant converting the
Igorots, a tribe renowned for their “brutish independence,” into for the
first time an “enlightened body of people.”7
Figure 4.1. Panoramic view in 1901 of what the American’s called the Mountain Meadow Same vista in 1926. Source: American Historical
Collection, Rizal Library, Ateneo de Manila University, Archive Nos. 1015–1835 to 1015–2035, and 1015–1235 to 1015–1435.
Landscape, Culture, and Urban Planning in Baguio

As noted, Baguio’s urban plan was greatly affected by the nature of
the local landscape. To come to terms with its influence, and to grasp its
meaning within the milieu of Burnham and Anderson’s 1905 city plan, it
is imperative to recognize that the natural environment is not only a
physical entity but also a cultural construction.8 As W. J. T. Mitchell
stresses, regardless of the pictorial qualities of the Philippine terrain and
given the colonization of Philippine society by the Americans from 1898,
it is important to comprehend its emergent Western-ness and thus its
perceived degree of modernization. Consequently, it is also important to
appreciate how nature was enlisted into the colonial governmental pro-
cess to legitimate societal reform after 1898. This matter, Mitchell
argues, is especially significant in the light of the American assertion that
their culture and civilization was more advanced than that of both the
Spanish and the native Philippine at the end of the nineteenth century,
that is, “the claim that ‘we moderns’ are somehow different from and
essentially superior to everything that preceded us.”9 Likewise, Denis
Cosgrove comments on the need to realize that although landscape
“obviously refers to the surface of the earth” it in reality incorporates
much more. Landscape is, Cosgrove observes, “not merely the world we
see, it is a construction, a composition of the world. Landscape is a way
of seeing the world.”10 As a result, in regard to the conversion during the
early 1900s of a wild upland locale in North Luzon into a planned city,
it is imperative to grasp Baguio not only as a place designed in keeping
with contemporary American planning practices but also as a site for
the enactment of paradigmatic modernity within the Philippine Archi-
pelago.
Kristin Hoganson, in examining the impact of the Spanish-
American War on American political rhetoric, suggests that many
Americans by the start of the twentieth century viewed their nation’s
overseas imperial ventures as articulating a youthful manhood meta-
phor.11 Identifying the sentiment that imperial activities strengthened
the character of the United States, and aided the maturation of people
whom Americans came into contact with, such as Filipinos—a body of
people stereotyped by many Americans as savages or children due to
their alleged “undeveloped existence”12—Hoganson also asserts that,
given this standpoint, Americans judged that the Spanish had left Phil-
ippine society in a fundamentally uncivilized condition. Evidence for
this low cultural condition was detectable, for instance, in the
90 Chapter 4
idespread presence of disease in both urban and rural localities, the

w
underdeveloped nature of the Philippine economy, the local population
being incapable of their own self-rule, and their apparent lack of grasp
as to the concept of nationhood.13 Notably, Benedict Anderson argues,
by viewing such conditions of life in the Philippines, the Americans gave
themselves moral justification to import their norms, values, and cus-
toms so that a “repair” of colonial society could come about.14 Akin to
the perceptions many White Americans had of African Americans and
Native Americans by circa 1900, the importation of modern American
culture into the “wild territory” of Southeast Asia was justifiable in that
it would bestow the “care” of a people incapable of their own cultural
and political progression.15 In Hoganson’s further opinion, the stereo-
typing of Filipinos helped present the US occupation of the Philippines
as a calling, one in which particular tasks and responsibilities were
quickly outlined by the colonizers as a result of their observations and
perceptions of the Philippines and its people. In accordance with the
self-perceived duty to bequeath “progress,” a matter fueled by the
United States’ casting itself as a “civilizer of the world,” numerous laws
were quickly passed and policies established by the Philippine Commis-
sion so that existent predicaments could be erased. At the same time, a
supplementary stereotype of the Philippines was promoted to articu-
late, as part of this “uplifting” process, American munificence. This
image, of the feminized colony, helped portray Philippine society as like
an unladylike woman who, without acculturation, could never attain a
higher state of being. Second, as part of this feminized image, the mas-
culinity of Filipino men was demoted. A reversal of Western gender
roles ensued in view of American observations that women in the Phil-
ippine countryside farmed the land and men looked after the children
and cooked. Such feminine allegory underscored the colonizer’s convic-
tion that the Philippines was, in the fullest sense of the term, “poor”
and that its men lacked the disposition necessary for taking on self-
government. Such representations of local society and its people con-
firmed, unsurprisingly, the necessity of US tutoring. It also, conveniently,
reinforced the perspective that without American intervention the cul-
tural order of the Philippines could never be put “right,” and that the
population was destined to an existence forever defined by cultural
deprivation.16
Burnham and Anderson’s “Preliminary Plan of Baguio,” like their
1905 “Report on Improvement of Manila,” recommended the construc-
tion of a multitude of building types and new roads and public spaces.
Yet, unlike the Manila plan, Baguio’s buildings, roads, and spaces were
to wholly fuse with the natural surroundings.17 Baguio thus quickly
acquired a standing for being a place of park-like splendor: a reputation
it still has. Explicitly illustrating at the time of its conception the valu-
able role of city planning to the Philippine nation’s development, the
rationale behind the construction of the settlement was not simply a
desire to display colonial might. Although Wolfgang Sonne asserts that
the role of colonial state power was crucial to both the development and
the design of Baguio, a major factor behind the creation of the city was
improving public health in North Luzon.18 Accordingly, to explain the
significance of this particular matter, it is vital once again to return to the
topic of American perceptions of the Philippines at the time colonization
began.
The majority of American colonists upon their arrival in the Philip-
pines deemed the tropical climate unbecoming for widespread, perma-
nent, and flourishing settlement. This negative evaluation was largely
conditioned, Robert Reed reasons, by four factors: an awareness of the
historical difficulties associated with white peoples’ acclimatization in
tropical locales; fear of diseases apparent within tropical geographies;
the impact of Western traditions concerning environmental determin-
ism; and the perception that white people both physically and mentally
deteriorated in tropical habitats.19 Because it was widely known that
Europeans participating in colonization in Asia and Africa during the
1800s had done so at considerable risk to their health, and that health
hazards in the Philippines were well known by 1898, it was unsurprising
that American colonial authorities initiated a range of public health pro-
grams (such as vaccinations, waste removal, the building of hospitals,
and the like) soon after colonization commenced.20 Nonetheless, for
many Americans in the Philippines, progress in the years after 1898
seemed slow. Even though Americans had been encouraged to live “in a
way best suited to the climate . . . if they wish to keep going in health,”
following the onset of the Philippine-American War in 1899, it was
accepted that the health condition of many American troops had become
so poor that they were unable to participate in military activities.21
Large numbers of soldiers succumbed to “tropical fatigue”—maladies
that included malaria, smallpox, typhoid, diarrhea, and dysentery.
Beginning in March 1902, a major epidemic of cholera swept through
the Philippines—one that lasted until February 1904. In such
92 Chapter 4
c ircumstances, the Philippine Commission realized that the spread and

maintenance of disease was critical to their ability to govern the colony.
Notably, the commissioners deemed that the epidemiology of disease
was affected not only by the climate but also by social, cultural, and
economic factors. Given, as noted, the Americans reasoning that the
local population needed the “advanced” whites to lead by both instruc-
tion and example so that “progressive civilization” could proceed,
Baguio, like Manila, was to help ordain “development.”22 Whereas
before 1898 Benguet Province was difficult to reach, in building a new
city said to have “no equal anywhere on earth” along with a new road-
way between the Central Luzon lowlands and North Luzon uplands,
Baguio was to become more for the Americans than a mere summer
hang-out.23 It was to be a model colonial settlement.24 As Secretary of
War Henry Stimson noted in 1911, “If we do our duty to the Philippine
Islands . . . it will be necessary that the Americans who go there shall be
of as good a class as possible and shall retain their virility and character
during their long sojourn in the tropics. For that purpose such a place as
Baguio is absolutely indispensable in my opinion.”25 Baguio had been
established from the outset as a fully fledged city rising out of the Philip-
pine wilderness. Its beauty and climate were to not only remind Western
visitors of Swiss Alpine retreats but also prompt people, the colonizers
as well as the colonized, to corroborate with their own eyes that life in
Southeast Asia was truly being reformed thanks to the attitudes and
actions of the Philippine Commission.26
The snug alliance of Baguio’s plan and the natural environment in
which it was set is worth noting. The natural landscape was much more
than a backdrop for the city. In consequence, it is vital to grasp Burnham
and Anderson’s rationale behind blending the urban plan with the natu-
ral environment so that the character of American colonial governance
and its alleged benevolence could be broached. In grasping a City Beau-
tiful urban environment merged with the Philippine countryside, it is
easy to understand why Baguio was to be a tool to enable the American
colonial regime to obtain influence and control over what was until then
terrain with a local population isolated geographically and culturally
from the imprint of colonial rule: the Igorot people being considered by
the Spanish and initially by the Americans as barbaric, lazy, and pagan.
Burnham and Anderson’s “Preliminary Plan of Baguio” had three
major features: a street system adapted to the local geography in order
to permit easy access about the city; appropriate locations for buildings
of public, semi-public, and private use; and open spaces for recreation.27
In essence, the plan for Baguio’s core was designed to fit into a naturally
formed, elliptical valley approximately three quarters of a mile in length
and half a mile in width. With undulating sides, and relatively a flat bot-
tom, the floor of the valley was to be marked by an esplanade, although
subsequently it was altered by consultant architect William E. Parsons
into a park. At each of the valley’s ends were to be placed the city’s most
important public buildings. Near the city hall, in an area known as the
Municipal Center, was to be sited a market—“while closely connected
to the municipal center, will remain subservient to it.”28
In architectural terms, the most conspicuous edifices in Baguio
were to be those belonging to the national government, which “frankly
dominate everything in sight of it,”29 being placed, in Burnham’s words,
“on the natural Acropolis.”30 However, the municipal and national gov-
ernment buildings facing toward each other from opposite ends of the
valley defined a major planning axis. This configuration, remarked
Charles Elliott, was a spatial response to American colonial discourse on
civilization-building, and was the anchor from which the rest of B aguio’s
environment was organized.31
To comprehend the issue of the visibility of public buildings in
Baguio necessitates explanation of the city plan. As discussed, the city
was planned along a grand central axis. A reason for this layout was to
make the government buildings visible so that state power, benevo-
lence, and instruction could be omnipresent.32 Semi-public buildings
were located on the hills at the side of the valley in keeping with the
concept behind the plan of Baguio to ensure that the city’s primary
public edifices would “be in view of one another.”33 The total effect of
the entire arrangement—“the business center surrounded by a crown
of monumental buildings, the whole dominated by the group of
national buildings”—could, wrote Burnham and Anderson, “be equal
to anything that has ever been done.”34 To aid the bestowing of soci-
etal betterment, Baguio’s plan promoted “practical political educa-
tion” so that, according to Bernard Moses, the evolution from tribalism
to a nation-state in North Luzon could take place.35 Educating Filipi-
nos within public offices in matters such as civil liberties, law, man-
ners, and democratic politics, American tutelage would also convert a
rural locale previously inhabited by tribes peoples into a beautiful
organized environment for people to live and work “in a modern fash-
ion.” As was true of the Manila plan, the desire to enable people to see
94 Chapter 4
governmental institutions (working on their behalf), and for civil ser-

vants to view the people over whom they served, was a fundamental
element in the Baguio plan.36 Hence a number of roadways ran to and
from City Hall.
This design symbolized the exporting of democratic politics from
the Americans to the Filipinos and thus the conversion of the local elites
into adjuncts of colonial authority.37 Yet, as crucial as it was to instruct
the upper echelons of Philippine society about modern governmental
practices, the lower classes were not to be left out in the process of
socialization. To amalgamate all social groups into a single corpus,
Baguio’s central axis was to be marked by space usable for recreational
purposes. Despite the alteration of Burnham’s original concept, an espla-
nade into a park by William E. Parsons, this open area was formed from
the outset, just as Manila’s Mall was, so that all social classes and ethnic
groups could mix. From such mingling, a robust sense of community
was to be forged, and the understanding in creating new opportunities
for all social groups to associate together was that they would share
experiences about where they lived and how life was being lived. Citi-
zens would connect civic beauty with civic pride, cultural cohesion, and
social equality. Consequently, with the spawning of civic consciousness,
nationhood could be fabricated, a process fortified in due course by the
erection of a monument dedicated to José Rizal on the settlement’s prin-
cipal planning axis near the front entrance of City Hall.
The impact of spatial design on community sentiment and sense of
nationhood in Baguio can be fully understood only after recognizing that
prior to the founding of the summer capital city the local Igorot popula-
tion was an “other.” Igorot society, heritage, and identity were rooted in
the Cordillera region, both a physical space with particular geographical
features and a place of distinctive human activities. In this context, Burn-
ham’s City Beautiful plan provided a tool for the American colonial gov-
ernment to directly reshape a culture outside the framework of colonial
rule before 1898.38 Introducing modern urban design (along with found-
ing schools, improving public health, developing the local economy, and
the like) to a territory perceived as lacking “civilization” would, it was
thought, make Igorot culture isomorphic with other “civilized” parts of
the country. Such a thought process was rationalized on two grounds.
The first was what Benedict Anderson labels “imagined realities,” namely
the understanding that regions, like nations, exist as separate territorial
and social spaces within which people live their lives in an imagined set-
ting of communion.39 By employing city planning as a component of the

overall governmental process, the Americans thought that a people his-
torically cut off from the rest of Philippine society could enjoy the fruits
of “higher civilization.” The second reason for such governmental action
was grounded in how the Americans viewed Filipino natives—in sum, as
basically the same. The Igorot were, as a type, at some physical and cul-
tural distance from lowland Philippine society, a civilization Hispanized
beginning in the late 1500s but reformed beginning in the early 1900s
thanks to the policies of the Philippine Commission. Given the Igorot
detachment in North Luzon, their transformation into “little brown
brothers” would not be as straightforward as in, say, Manila and its hin-
terland. In light of, as Gerard Finin puts it, “prevailing American concep-
tions about ‘types’ of people and a strong desire for a ‘rational’ system of
administration based on ‘scientifically’ justifiable principles for oversee-
ing highlanders,” Baguio would come to function as the summer capital
of the Philippines and as the capital of a newly “civilizing” region.40 As a
hub of modernity and all it entailed, the planned city of Baguio would be
the site in the North Luzon uplands where American cultural mores
could be directly imported from Manila and from which they would
then be exported out into the surrounding countryside, a body of space
and an administrative region known from August 1908 as the Mountain
Province. Through this process, the Igorots as well as other tribal groups
in North Luzon could be “uplifted.” For the first time, they could live and
be identified within the emergent national cultural and economy, and
political framework. Highlighting this reality with new spaces, public
buildings, and monuments, American officials were able to impress upon
the local population both the colonial structure and their sense of belong-
ing to the Filipino nation. By promoting social, economic, and spatial
dimensions, Baguio would help cement the Igorot’s sense of conscious-
ness to the country at large. By establishing the Mountain Province as an
ethno-region, Baguio performed a role far greater than providing a
healthy environment for American administrators, teachers, and soldiers.
The city provided an environment, both real and imagined, for the high-
landers to ethnically unite as Igorots and to self-consciously identify as
belonging to a locality unique within the national setting. This sense of
awareness, emphasized in due course by local politicians, still exists
today. From the early days of Baguio onward, Filipino politicians in City
Hall have sought to represent and speak collectively for “the Igorot peo-
ple” of the Mountain Province.41
96 Chapter 4
Implementing and Evolving the Urban Plan

Any account of the early development of Baguio, that is, between
1905 and 1916, must pay attention to four individuals: W. Cameron
Forbes, Daniel Burnham, William E. Parsons, and Dean Worcester. In
planning terms, Burnham and Parsons contributed the most: Burnham
in that he composed the original plan for the city; Parsons in light of his
activities in amending the 1905 plan and then implementing the con-
struction of roads, spaces, and buildings. Forbes and Worcester also had
a critical hand in Baguio’s early narrative. As a member of the Philippine
Commission, Worcester was the first to suggest (in 1900) the idea of
building a new city at Baguio, and Forbes quickly identified the poten-
tial of developing Baguio into a resort for the Americans.42 Forbes also
played the notable role of supervising its initial development and, on the
advice of William H. Taft, sought competent guidance with respect to
introducing modern city planning to the Philippines.43 As Robert Reed
observes, such was Forbes’s role in developing Baguio that he could be
called the father of the city.44
Like his fellow members of the Philippine Commission, Forbes
had clear-cut views about Filipinos and their evolution under Ameri-
can colonial rule. In his opinion, Filipinos were, at the start of the
twentieth century, unfit for self-rule. “They want independence,” he
remarked, “but they want it very much as a baby wants a candle
because it is bright and because it is held out for him to sieze at.”45
They were also, he claimed, dishonest and devious when put into any
position of power: “The native when given authority and uncurbed is
brutal to his own people and would treat them to a little Spanish dev-
ilry.”46 Accordingly, Forbes realized that if Baguio was to become a
success not only was the support of the Western community in the Phil-
ippines needed but also the integration and acculturation of the local
elites and middle class. In this regard, Baguio, to attract Igorots and
Filipinos to it and for them to be transformed into “little brown broth-
ers,” was in the fullest sense conceived as an exemplar. In physical
terms, it was to incorporate a modern infrastructure and to offer facil-
ities where people could stay and undertake various leisure activities.
As a municipality, it was to be the site where the concept of rule for the
public good was open for all to see.47 But as a model settlement it also
demanded, when thinking in terms of its infrastructure and environ-
mental form, not only the expansion of the existing road and rail net-
work so that visitors could access what in 1905 was a remote location,
but also an urban design standard on which its buildings, roads, and
spaces would be based.48 For Forbes, the building of new roads within
the city and to the city was significant for “progress.”49 Thus the twisty,
Alpine-esque Benguet Road, which linked Baguio to the terminus of
the newly extended rail line at Camp One, was vital to the expansion
of the northern Philippine economy, and with it the enlargement of
civilization in the north of Luzon Island.50
As a planned wonderland, Baguio was to deliver opportunity for
elevated conditions of life in relative proximity to Manila and the popu-
lous provinces of Central Luzon. As a setting for people to work and
relax, then, the city’s urban environment was to be attractive, but—
importantly—to offer and maintain the natural terrain and not blemish
it with buildings: “careful attention to the use of local plantings would
naturalize what was essentially an American imperial order.”51 Baguio
was conceived not to be a place that would dominate the natural land-
scape, but instead to be a city that embraced it. One reason for this
concept was the need to maintain natural drainage given the large vol-
ume of rain North Luzon regularly experienced. Writing on this topic in
his journal, Forbes declared, “How any place could stand 72 inches of
rain in five hours passes my ‘apprehension’. The fact is that Baguio itself
is a sort of clayey soil and the water ran from it much as it does from a
roof.”52 Intrinsically, Burnham applied City Beautiful urban planning to
work on many levels with the rugged terrain. As a settlement designed
from the outset to impress with its scenic majesty of rolling ground, pine
trees, and landscaped green, open spaces, buildings were positioned at
low densities in order to not intrude on the local geography (see fig-
ure 4.2). Expansive sites were consequently given for the city’s houses,
churches, and other public buildings.
Additionally, to ensure that Baguio’s development in the future
would not diminish the magnificence of its site, in 1905 Burnham sug-
gested the creation of building laws to preserve greenery.53 Although
Burnham left the Philippines before construction of Baguio began, Wil-
liam E. Parsons took up the importance of green spaces and the preser-
vation of foliage when he implemented the city plan. Forbes stated,
“Having dreamed of the city to be, the American administrators and
engineers set out to build it to fit in as nearly as possible with the form
of the vision.”54 With respect to Parsons and his desire to preserve the
integrity of Burnham’s original planning concept, he recommended that
roads should have fifty feet of green space on each of their sides. He
98 Chapter 4
additionally suggested that houses should be set back a minimum of

twenty-five feet from the edge of their plots. This was to permit the cre-
ation of what Forbes called parkways.55
Figure 4.2. Top: “Preliminary Plan of Baguio,” by Daniel Burnham and Peirce
Anderson with key features: A—Municipal Centre; B–Government Group;
C–Governor-General’s Residence; D—Baguio School; and (bottom) the amended
plan of 1913 by William E. Parsons. Source: Parsons, “Burnham,” 30; Teacher’s
Assembly Herald, “Plan of Bagiou,” 133.
To further preserve the greenery of Baguio, and to uphold the

semi-rural character of the city, small residences were to be sited on the
lower slopes of hills and larger buildings built facing toward, but not
on, the summits, which were instead to be left covered with pine trees.
For the wealthiest citizens, plots were to be available to purchase in
sizes measuring between three to ten acres within the district of Pak-
dal.56 Roads and building sites were not to be found in all the city’s
districts: some areas were to be left untouched. However, because the
initial city plan, as described by Burnham and Anderson, was “fragmen-
tary” and “preliminary in character,” it was essential that the scheme
was implemented by someone sympathetic to the original intention.57
To this end, the role of the William E. Parsons should not be underesti-
mated. Living in the Philippines between November 1905 and February
1914, Parsons, as consultant architect in the Bureau of Public Works
(BPW), supervised the design of all public buildings and parks in the
country. As part of this brief, he was “charged with interpretation of the
original preliminary plans prepared by Messrs Burnham and Anderson
for Manila and Baguio.”58 Indeed, the impact of Parsons upon Baguio,
and the general US benevolent assimilative schema, is often overlooked
even though Parsons enriched Burnham’s 1905 plan by augmenting the
central planning axis between the Municipal and the National Govern-
ment Center as a metaphor of growing liaisons between the Americans
and Filipinos.59
The recommended road layout by Burnham for the urban core in
the 1905 plan was a grid layout that “will adapt itself as closely as pos-
sible to the ungeometrical contours of the Baguio Valley.” Positioned
southwest to northeast and southeast to northwest, so as to permit plots
to receive direct sunlight at some time during the day—“a condition of
great value in the point of view of ventilation and sanitation”—the use
of a grid plan was justified on two counts: to permit convenient move-
ment of traffic and to have a street layout in conjunction with the lay of
the land. On this point, it is vital to not downplay the general visual
effect of the urban environment Burnham sought, and the nature of the
urban design model on which the Baguio plan was based. Burnham
aspired to establish a road system that worked with the shape of the
land; with this in mind, he focused on a layout that ran to and from
commanding points on hillsides where monuments and public edifices
were to be placed.60 Inspired by the design of urban settlements in Italy,
France, and Japan, where the lines of streets are carried up hillsides to
100 Chapter 4
terminate the vista “at points of especial interest,” the plan for Baguio
stipulated that public buildings were to command the vistas along road-
ways. Inspired too by the “admirable system of street planning” in
Washington, DC, notably Pennsylvania Avenue and Maryland Avenue,
which bend as they approach the Capitol Building due to the steepening
gradient of the land, yet still permit the building to command the vista
along the roadways, Burnham tried to create a similar effect in Baguio.
The natural shape of the land furthered Burnham’s urban planning con-
cept: because bedrock was not a characteristic and local labor was
cheap, “reasonable difficulties in the way of grading and filling” could,
anyhow, be overcome. Citing Genoa and San Francisco as two examples
where physical obstacles had been overcome in the planning process,
Burnham commented that it was vital at Baguio that the “best scheme”
was adopted: it “should not be called into question because an inferior
scheme would be somewhat easier of execution in detail.”61 Parsons, as
indicated, thereby ensured the “best scheme” came into being once
Burnham had left the Philippines.
Educated at Columbia University and Yale University, and person-
ally endorsed by Burnham for the role of consulting architect in the
Philippines, Parsons like many of his American contemporaries was edu-
cated in and heavily influenced by the Beaux Arts. Modifying the central
core of Baguio by fortifying the grand central axis between City Hall
and the National Government Center with green spaces, footpaths, and
a boating lake (known as Burnham Lake), Parson reinforced the visual
relationship between the local and national government and thus the
American intention of pulling people previously outside the margins of
“civilized society” into the fold of modern culture.62 In altering Burn-
ham’s initial plan by establishing Burnham Park, Parsons aimed, broadly
speaking, to exploit urban space to aid the “normalization” of Filipinos
living in what the Americans considered culturally unacceptable ways.
Urban design in this milieu was a social-spatial mechanism to confront
and resolve societal shortcomings. As a way to recast the relationship
between the individual, state, society, and space, city planning was
exploited by the Philippine Commission to impart new environmental
and cultural standards.63 Although historiography has traditionally
reported Imperial America in the Philippines as the ouster of long-rooted
Spanish influence in architecture, in fact, thanks to Burnham and Par-
sons, the years immediately after 1905 ushered in a major effort by the
colonial government to implement monumental civic design.64 As dis-
cussed in chapter 5, this course of action affected many provincial cities

in the Philippines and shifted their urban form away from Spanish
colonial-era plazas and churches.
Drawing attention to the topic of the production and cultural
meaning of urban space, Michel de Certeau argues that urban environ-
ments can, in terms of their design, be employed to enact a threefold
societal development operation. In his view, social betterment occurs,
first, when a rational organization of the environment takes place, a
process that involves the production of new spaces to subjugate “pollut-
ants” existing physically and mentally within society. Second, advance-
ment transpires via the use of new scientific strategies that provide new
“social opportunities.” Third, society evolves when inside the city all the
social and cultural functions that were once scattered and isolated
among social groups (social classes, associations, individuals, and so on)
are brought together. In this setting, he reasons, the city can provide “a
way of conceiving and constructing space on the basis of a finite number
of stable, isolatable, and interconnected properties.”65 The role of
administration is, he adds, central to the process of organizing the city’s
operations, and so eliminating identified “pollutants” by, in this setting,
redefining the functions of the city and, in parallel, rejecting known
“waste products” (such as disease, existing cultural flaws, and so on) so
that the city as an entity can work effectively for the promotion of social
good. Moreover, to be sure that progress transpires, discourses can be
manufactured in which a mythification of waste products arises so that
they are marginalized or disregarded. In so doing, it is thought, the city
turns metaphorically and literally into a profit system in which losses
like poverty, cultural backwardness, and the like are banished so that
social development can take place. In the context of functional gover-
nance, de Certeau explains, this situation permits the city to serve as a
marker of socioeconomic and political advancement. The language of
power is entwined with urbanization. When the city is harnessed to pro-
pel societal advancement, urban locales once essentially characterized
by their “pollution” are transformed by restructured urban form and life
within it into social profit-making enterprises.
Exemplifying to Gerard Lico the determination behind the Ameri-
can colonial program to reform local society, Parsons’ plan of Baguio
with its pronounced central axis promoted the presence of the govern-
ment buildings in the city.66 In David Brody’s view, the refinement of the
urban environment granted the Americans greater capacity to see and
102 Chapter 4
so control the environment and its people.67 In his judgment, planning

was instigated in the Philippines as an agent of colonial authority and
control. Baguio was an overt example of design and power purpose-
fully converging so that Filipinos’ behavior could be affected. Establish-
ing a comparison between the city’s spatial arrangement and a
panopticon (the institutional building form described by Michel Fou-
cault as promoting surveillance capacities), Brody observes that the vis-
ibility of public edifices in Baguio expressed the American colonial
desire to reshape Filipino demeanor.68 Given that the plan of Baguio,
like the 1905 plan for Manila, was to provide unobstructed views to
public buildings, unhindered visual pathways of power were, it is
argued, concurrently formed. In this setting, Baguio’s primary leisure
space acted as a contact zone to permit people hitherto geographically
and culturally separated from each other to come together so that the
dominant group (the Americans) could coerce the weaker group (the
Filipinos) to be part of the facilitation of colonial rule and the reforma-
tion of local society.69
Parsons’ retaining much of Burnham’s original environmental
vision for Baguio aside, in the amended city plan, attention to present-
ing Baguio as integral to the natural landscape was bolstered. This
impression was grounded in both retaining the natural environment
and enhancing it with landscape architecture. Roads, as mentioned,
were to have swathes of green space at their sides to help give the
impression of a continuous parkway, and open areas such as play fields,
parks, and reservations—on the tops of hills “that their cresting of
green may be carefully preserved”—were established to enhance this
overall park image of the city. This use of landscape design was obvious
too within the primary urban space: Burnham Park. Comprising tree-
lined open areas, walkways, and a man-made lake—all arranged in a
grand symmetrical layout—the space presented grand views to the
city’s primary public buildings, which were sited below the summits of
hills so that their architectural silhouettes would not destroy “the
charm of this beautiful landscape” (see figure 4.3).70 The preservation
of Baguio’s natural attractiveness under the supervision of Parsons
extended to nearby mountains. They, in keeping with Burnham’s inten-
tion that hilltops in the city should be reservation land, were granted
protected status.71
Even though in 1905 Burnham’s importation of the City Beau-
tiful model of urban design in Manila and Baguio served as an
Figure 4.3. Northwest view from Burnham Lake to the City Hall. Source: Author.
important blueprint for the reorganization of urban space in the

Philippines more broadly, in the case of Baguio it was not conceived
as an immutable model. He acknowledged that his 1905 proposal
would demand some alteration, and that an architect would be
needed to help design and construct new public buildings. In this
regard, William E. Parsons’ role is considerable. It was he, to cite
Gerard Lico and Wolfgang Sonne, who instigated via the design of
buildings, roads, and spaces the American colonial governmental
philosophy of using power to purvey a social service to the local
population.72 Whereas in Manila monumental stone buildings were
proposed in the Extramuros for the Government Group by Burn-
ham, in Baguio Parsons designed public edifices to be constructed
from wood. Of note, though, he adhered to the perspective Burnham
imported into the Philippines that the best style for Philippines
buildings was the Spanish colonial model.73 Lico suggests that Par-
sons’ foremost architectural contribution was not stylistic, but
instead grounded in the improvement of the quality of construction
of construction materials and techniques.74 Parsons nevertheless
made an impact on both Philippine aesthetic and spatial design
before 1916. Although in many Philippine cities reinforced concrete
became the staple for buildings designed by Parsons in the cool cli-
mate of Baguio where supplies of wood were plentiful, and pre-1905
American architect Edgar Bourne had designed government cottages
from wood, the emergence of the Stick Style led to the creation of a
regional colonial vernacular.
104 Chapter 4
Roads, Railways, and the Governor’s Mansion

In morphological terms, Baguio’s roads and the system employed to
site public buildings was unrivaled in the Philippines. As noted in the
American Chamber of Commerce Journal of the Philippine Islands,
Baguio was a settlement in which one “enters an entirely different world,
as it were, and the longer one remains there, the more impressed one
becomes with the difference.” The article added that part of the difference
between Baguio and elsewhere in the country was not only the moderate
climate, or the matters of the large number of public and private build-
ings with well-kept grounds, the general cleanliness of the city, and the
“wholesomeness and beauty of the whole locality,” but the excellent con-
dition of the roads.75 This elevation in road quality, evident in the Philip-
pines in cities such as Manila by about 1903, and Cebu and Zamboanga
by 1912, was an important element in the American quest to demonstrate
societal betterment. Indeed, the development of urban infrastructure was
central to the American’s strategy of “uplifting” the Philippines: existing
ports, roads, bridges, lighthouses, the railway system, and so on were all
considered inadequate for establishing a “modern society,” and so by the
early 1900s were the subject of improvement programs, often in coordi-
nation with city plans by Daniel Burnham or William E. Parsons.
Initially under the remit of the US army engineers, and then by
1905 under the control of the BPW, the management of the road prob-
lem was to play three essential and complementary roles in the recon-
struction of Philippine society under American guidance. First, the
Spanish system of pestacion personal (forced labor) for road construc-
tion and maintenance was abolished.76 Second, the quality of road con-
struction was to be improved so that during the annual wet season roads
were still passable.77 Third, new roads were to be built to aid the move-
ment of people and goods about the country. In the early 1900s, the state
of existing roads was viewed in many instances as “threatening the eco-
nomic life of the people.”78 Laying out new roads was therefore neces-
sary, and undertaken with the idea of opening up new territory and thus
stimulating the expansion of local and regional economies. The Ameri-
can strategy toward “highway economics” and road building was con-
firmed on June 16, 1908, when the secretary of commerce and police
wrote a letter to municipal and regional governments specifying that the
construction and locality of new roads was one for local determination,
even if funding was under the control of the BPW.79 With the intention of
ascertaining which roads most urgently required repair, each province
was required to count the volume of wheeled transport using its roads.80
Highways carrying the greatest amount of traffic were to receive the
BPW’s urgent attention. So that road repairs could be undertaken, each
highway was split into sections of one kilometer in length.81 For each
section, a caminero was employed to oversee a gang of navvies. Exercis-
ing police-like powers, the camineros also regulated the movement of
traffic on their road section, prevented water buffalo and carts from
parking, and foiled local people from using ditches at the roadside for
irrigating their land, or for dumping refuse.82
Because skillful management of roadways was limited in the open-
ing years of American colonization,83 the development of Baguio offered
the Philippine Commission an opportunity to demonstrate to municipal
and provincial governors what was possible in terms of road construc-
tion as well as urban layout. Its road quality, combined with its array of
modern public buildings and laws permitting the preservation of the
picturesque upland environment, was also used by the Americans as a
selling point to encourage prominent, wealthy Filipinos to invest in land
and property there. This process of inspiring Filipinos to put their money
in Baguio rather than in property investments in European cities such as
Paris and Madrid was boosted by 1913 by the actions and influence of
the Governor-General Francis Burton Harrison: “Baguio became more
popular than ever, and at the end of the Harrison administration [in
1921] it had grown in size and popularity.”84 Harrison’s impact was felt
in other municipalities. It was he, as the nation’s foremost politician of
the time, who sped up the process of Filipinization, that is, the transfer
of colonial authority from American to Filipino hands to better prepare
the colonized population for self-rule in the future. This process acceler-
ated after the Philippine Autonomy Act was passed in 1916.
In terms of suburban development, whereas the central core of
Baguio was configured about the major alignment between the local and
national government buildings, the city’s outer districts were to have
spaces and roads that followed the natural contours of the hilly land.85
That is not to say, though, that symmetrical layouts were not established.
For instance, on land east of Baguio, at the front of the Governor’s House
were laid out formal garden spaces, including one with a long, rectangular
water feature (see figure 4.4).86 With the pathways parallel to it, this space,
laid out in accordance with the building’s recessed entrance and front
gates, offered a direct long vista to the front elevation of the summer home
of the Philippines’ most important politician (see figure 4.5).
Figure 4.4. Governor’s Mansion and front garden as seen from the front gates
Source: Author.
Figure 4.5. Landscaped driveway in front of the Mansion’s east-facing elevation.

Source: Author.
To help finance the costs of developing Baguio, three hundred large

plots of land were sold between 1906 and 1909. As Robert Reed dis-
cusses, Forbes’s basic strategy for popularizing Baguio was to persuade
the colonial elites and the Filipino elites to purchase property in the
city.87 A model house was constructed near the city’s eastern boundary
at a site called Topside, and Forbes hoped its stone-built form would
encourage cottage-type housing to be built within the large plots in the
surrounding eastern districts. However, to imply that Forbes sought to
attract only the rich to Baguio would be wrong: he believed in the
development of an integrated community at Baguio, and to this end all
Filipino social groups were urged to visit the city.
The eastern end of Baguio was to be made up primarily of low-
density cottage houses for the wealthy, and the key architectural feature
in the western districts was the train station. The expansion of the Phil-
ippine national train system to the Benguet uplands was part of the city’s
creation.88 Its development was crucial not only to enabling the move-
ment of people to Baguio’s site from Manila and the Central Luzon low-
lands but also to developing the regional economy and, in the context of
building a central train station, to constructing a formal gateway to the
Philippine summer capital. Although initially three routes were identi-
fied as leading from the lowlands to Benguet uplands, an engineering
report in late 1900 suggested that the cost of laying down the line and
buying new rolling stock could be as high as $2.6 million. This projected
cost led to the postponement of the Benguet Railroad. Instead, after Act
No. 61 was passed, funds were granted to pay for a new road—Benguet
Road, later renamed Kennon Road—to connect the summer capital city
to the existing road network.89 Despite the shortening of the rail net-
work in proximity to Baguio on grounds of cost, the Americans still
intended to use transport infrastructure in three ways: to help boost
regional development and, in parallel, bestow Filipinos with opportu-
nity for expansion in civilization and to establish a dignified entrance to
the city. Given the local topography, Parsons envisaged the train enter-
ing the city from the west, approaching the Municipal Center before
turning southward in the direction of the National Center, and terminat-
ing at the rear of the national government buildings. Offering access to
Camp John Hay to the east, visitors to Baguio upon leaving the train
station would be presented with a monumental view of City Hall and
Burnham Park to the west.90 To further enhance the image of Baguio as
a “modern city,” a tram terminus was to be built at the urban fringe.
108 Chapter 4
Collecting visitors from a newly built road connecting the city to the
regional hinterland, passengers would take a tram ride toward the urban
core. In the words of Burnham, it was to “make an imposing and fitting
entrance to the city.”91 However, the role of the train station as a city
gate at the location Burnham and Anderson suggested was rather vague.
Hence the importance once again of William E. Parsons in Baguio’s
urban development. Burnham and Anderson provided no detailed infor-
mation in their 1905 report because, at the time the document was com-
posed, data regarding the possible line of the railway as it approached
the town were not available. Evidently, given the need for further sur-
veying and engineering information, Burnham and Anderson merely
proposed where, in their view, the rail line and railway station could
be sited.
In terms of the future development of public and semipublic build-
ings in Baguio, such as churches and schools, Burnham and Anderson
also said little. Similarly, mention of the siting of the city’s primary mar-
ket building was only that it was to be erected on “approximately level
ground” to the northwest of the valley floor esplanade, and should be
close to the Municipal Center given the need for the convenient trans
action of business.92 For reasons already explained, the city hall, “while
demanding close contact with the business quarter, should yet be given a
location and a set of approaches of unmistakable dignity,” was to be
sited on ground of higher elevation with roadways running to and
from it.93
Whereas in the 1905 Manila plan, the governor-general’s house
was placed at the New Luneta, that is, within a short walking distance
of the Government Group, in Baguio the governor-general was to
have two choices on where to live. One was suburban, in the district
of Pakdal; the other was within the city’s core. The central site selected
for the home of the governor-general, along with that of the major-
general of the US Army in the Philippines, was to be on the southeast
approach to the National Government Center from the esplanade
(later redesigned as Burnham Park). In the words of Burnham and
Anderson in their 1905 report, the location of the two houses “each
on its own knoll, overlooking the Main Esplanade, brings them some-
what close to the business town, but has the advantage of making
them formally a part of the visible Government functions.”94 But
should the major-general prefer to reside near the suburban military
reservation, Burnham and Anderson assumed that the house opposite
that of the governor-general would be occupied by the vice governor-

general.
To the east of the city, beyond the ridge surrounding the eastern
side of the central quarter, Burnham and Anderson envisaged the
development of a small cluster of public buildings that included the
city’s main church and the Baguio School. A long, straight roadway
would run directly to the group’s central building, the church. This road-
way, linking the group of buildings to the city’s main roundabout east of
the National Government Center, would be the formal approach to the
secondary civic core. The roadway would run perpendicular to the cen-
ter of the church’s front (south-facing) elevation, and parallel to the
school buildings; these alignments were to be joined by a smaller circu-
lar space. However, significantly, although in the amended plan of
Baguio Parsons retained the roadway, he ultimately made a number of
key transitions to the symmetrical plan. For example, the church was
moved to another site, on the ridge top to the east of Burnham Park, and
the school buildings were set back at some distance from the circular
space. Likewise, the symmetrical road pattern about the secondary civic
core that Burnham had proposed was trimmed back. The large round-
about was removed. The straight roadway on the ridge top to the east of
Burnham Park was also replaced, in this instance by a winding roadway
that followed the contours of the ridge top rather than a direct align-
ment to the north of Baguio. Indeed, Parsons’ amendment of Burnham’s
original plan was in some respects contradictory to what was originally
suggested in 1905. By way of illustration, as mentioned, Parsons
reworked the plan of the central core and in doing so further empha-
sized the axis between the Municipal Center and National Government
Center, yet in all other parts of the plan he diminished the symmetry.
Consequently, whereas Burnham recommended geometric plots for pri-
vate buildings in the district surrounding the church and Baguio School,
and suggested laying out a large rectangular space behind an unnamed
public edifice, in Parsons’ amended scheme, this plot pattern was
removed and the grid plan originally put forward by Burnham east of
Baguio replaced by a street system of fewer thoroughfares that all fol-
lowed the lines of the topography. The largest building in the vicinity
was no longer the church or school, but now the Pines Hotel. Addition-
ally, the large, symmetrical recreation area Burnham had proposed to
the west of City Hall was removed from Parsons’ plan. Situated in a
natural hollow and comprising playfields and an open air theater, one
110 Chapter 4
modeled on the structure built around the start of the twentieth century
at the University of California, the recreation center Burnham envi-
sioned in the 1905 plan was a site to “provide ample area for recre-
ations”—public ceremonies, public gatherings, and sports. Parsons’
intervention meant that the area was left a natural green space.95 No
evidence exists as to why Parsons did not build the sports facility, though
it might be assumed that he sought somewhat overzealously to retain
the natural landscape.96 Burnham in the 1905 Baguio report emphasized
the need to preserve the crests of hills with their greenery. Parsons evi-
dently in the amended urban plan took this notion literally. But, as
Burnham advised, careful handling of public buildings was imperative
in Baguio given the qualities of the natural environment. On one hand
was a need to establish a cityscape that would not destroy “the charm of
this beautiful landscape.” On the other, it was important to set buildings
within the local foliage on slopes so that they could be given “the best
possible setting without mutilating their surroundings.”97 The one
exception to this rule in Parsons’ planning of Baguio was the placing of
Baguio’s primary church on the ridge top parallel to the axis between
City Hall and National Government Center. Arguably, however, because
American colonization was—in President McKinley’s words—to uplift,
civilize, and Christianize, the visibility of the ecclesiastical center com-
plemented the prominence of the local and national government build-
ings and was essential for educating the Filipino masses as “better”
Christians.
Evaluating the Burnham Model

The plans by Burnham for Manila and Baguio, and thus the subse-
quent work of William E. Parsons to implement the schemes, courted
criticism from many Filipinos and from some Americans.98 Filipino pub-
lications (printed in Spanish) such as La Vanguardia, El Ideal, Taliba,
La Democracia, El Commercio, and Razon offer a window into the
opinions of many of the ilustrados and Filipino elites with regard to
colonial governance and urban developments during the early period of
American colonial rule. Setting themselves up as mentors to lead the
Filipinos by the hand on the road to progress, the Americans firmly
believed that the life of the people depended on obedience to the rule of
conduct prescribed by colonizer (the American). As shown in this work,
environmental reform took on a major role in both expressing colonial
authority and legitimizing the colonial master’s enterprise to impart

improved living conditions, social liberties, and democratic government.
Even though many Filipinos were of the opinion after 1898 that the
Americans would treat them as equals, inevitably a struggle emerged
between the colonizers and the colonized based, said El Ideal, on race.99
La Vanguardia added that this discord created a number of problems
for Filipinos. These included the definition of Filipino community being
grounded in an American understanding of the country, its people, and
their cultures.100 American rule too faced practical problems, such as
establishing economic development when agriculture, manufacturing,
and commerce in the Philippines had a limited base, and exercising gov-
ernmental control over all of the Philippines. Exercising governmental
control was, to many Filipinos, not just about the geographical spread
of American rule out from Manila but also about the purpose of Ameri-
can colonial governance. As the La Vanguardia article noted, “A nation
does not extend its sovereignty over weak peoples for nothing. The
phrase ‘territorial expansion’, ‘peaceful penetration’, ‘benevolent assimi-
lation’, ‘opportunities’, etc., mean something in colonial technic.”
Accordingly, the plans for both Manila and Baguio, as products of colo-
nial governance, were viewed by many Filipinos as being mere props of
American authority in Southeast Asia.101 Thus, the establishment of new
boulevards in Manila and the creation of Baguio were examples of how
public finance was used to promote American governmental ideals. As
La Vanguardia noted,
public money is being expended abundantly in beautifying a place

beautiful in itself while the rest of the population vegetates unprotected
in unhealthful places, under conditions which favor decadence and
mortality of men and women, the majority of them laborers, and espe-
cially of children, the rising generation, for whom it is supposed we are
making supreme efforts today.102
As to Manila and changes within it as a result of the 1905 city plan, La

Vanguardia remarked that embellishing the city should not come “at the
cost of the health and the lives of the great part of the population.” It
added that the manner in which the Americans justified the embellish-
ment was “a veritable inequity.”103 Baguio was subject to similar deri-
sion. As “the favorite refuge of the caesars,” the city was “the olympical
and imperial summer capital.”104 Public funds used to pay for the
112 Chapter 4
evelopment of the city did not escape censure by the Filipino press,
d
which referred to it as a “public calamity,” a costly scheme burdening
the country’s finances.105 Baguio, although a “beautiful city of the pines”
was—to many educated Filipinos—about the production of an intangi-
ble environment: a place difficult for most people in the Philippine
Archipelago to even visit given the geography of the country, the imma-
ture national transportation system before 1916, and the endemic pov-
erty in which most Filipinos lived.106 As a result, even if poor Filipinos
wished to visit the city they were unlikely to be able to afford it. Baguio
was a place seen by many as being built by Americans to promote their
regime. El Ideal suggested that therefore nothing was spared to bring
the city to fruition:
The money of the people, which is guarded with veritable covetousness

for some matters of vital importance to the country, makes artificial
lakes in Baguio, creates handsome parks, constructs walks that would
create the envy of the most capricious potentates. Evidently they want
to revive the golden history of the Louises of France.107
Yet, for the Americans, the redevelopment of Manila and the creation of
Baguio confirmed that the Philippine nation post-1898 could not sur-
vive without American input and talents. Helping wean Filipinos away
from their long-time female nurturer Mother Spain, who the American
colonizers perceived to have defiled Philippine society, and instead seek-
ing to draw Filipinos to a male nurturer, Uncle Sam, who represented
modernity and the values of the Enlightenment, America intended, using
urban planning in a complementary role, to form a forward-looking,
democratic, and patriarchal state in Southeast Asia. In this cultural and
political setting, if the United States was to be successful as a benevolent
father figure, it had not only to recast “the uncivilized” to the “civilized,”
but also to survey and thus know exactly the nature of the local popula-
tion if it was to ensure that development was sustainable. Ileto suggests
that US colonial governance in the Philippines from 1902, that is, the
end of the Philippine-American War, entailed three fundamentals. First,
the Americans had to know who exactly made up the population, hence
the national census in 1902. Second was the immediate need for disease
control and improved sanitation, given the many outbreaks of disease
and short life expectancies. Third was the need to reconcentrate the
population into “modern cities.” Without this, argues Ileto, the Ameri-
cans could not know, order, or discipline Filipinos—“the basic tools of

pacification”—nor could they have any chance to imagine the reforma-
tion of the existing social and cultural order.108 In this framework,
Baguio, like Manila, must be read as a locale critical to the development
of Philippine society. On the surface, evidently, Baguio’s beauty was to
be a tangible testament to the conquest of the Philippines by the Ameri-
cans, but the city in actuality was much more than a new urban a esthetic.
Although many visitors to the city commented on the combination of
built environment, scenic beauty, and comfortable climate, to some its
greatest achievement was the American capacity to fit a modern, sym-
metrical city into the Luzon Mountains, where contemporary civiliza-
tion had not previously reached (see figure 4.6). Whereas in Manila the
implementation of Burnham’s plan was complicated by the fact that the
city was an aged polymorphous settlement, in Baguio Burnham, and
then Parsons, was able to establish a city in pine-clad mountains, a place
that superficially presented itself as a well-kept ornamental garden.
To conclude, Burnham’s visit to the Philippines in late 1904 and
early 1905 and the resulting plans for Manila and Baguio were a water-
shed in city planning in the Philippines. The spatial model that hitherto
existed, that is, the concept of the principal plaza supplemented by roads
Figure 4.6. Center of Baguio, with Burnham Park, looking northwest from Luneta
Hill Drive. Source: Author.
114 Chapter 4
and secondary and smaller open spaces, was as a result of Burnham’s

planning intervention, supplanted by a new urban environmental
form—one viewed by the Americans as “modern.”109 Whereas the Span-
ish colonial urban plan was designed to look in upon itself, or more
precisely focus itself in terms of configuration upon the plaza major, the
American colonial model anchored its plan to grand axes and large
open, green spaces from which secondary alignments would be formed
by roadways and additional green spaces. The Philippine City Beautiful
plan was thus outward: designed to connect roads, spaces, statues, and
buildings in different districts so that public buildings could be easily
seen and common spaces devised. However, this model was not without
censure in the Philippines. Baguio, the rustic miniature of Washington,
DC, was viewed by some Filipinos not so much as a modern city as an
autocratic city. Yet, as chapter 5 discusses, Burnham’s urban design
model was exported from Manila and Baguio to provincial capital cit-
ies. The role of Parsons in this process was critical. As consultant archi-
tect in the BPW, he singlehandedly applied Burnham’s spatial model to
two regional capitals, Cebu and Zamboanga, and to a large number of
provincial capitals.110 As a result, by 1916 the appearance and plan
of the largest and most politically important urban settlements in the
Philippines had changed from what they had been at the start of the
twentieth century. The Philippine urban plan in 1916 was defined by
monumental civic centers rather than by churches and their plazas. Sig-
nificantly, such was the volume of American colonial urban planning in
the Philippines between 1905 and 1916 that Manila and Baguio are
only part of the urban environmental narrative.
Chapter 5
Regional Capital Plans and

Provincial Civic Centers
“With a hut, a mango-tree and a fighting cock, the unambitious

Filipino is perfectly satisfied with life. If he owns a pig and a few hens
he is considered prosperous. If his possessions include a rice-field,
and a water buffalo through it once or twice a year attached to a
crooked stick by way of a plough, he is a power in the community.”
I
n his two-volume work The Philippine Islands, Cameron
Forbes wrote that during the Spanish colonial era an array
of public works were undertaken. With respect to the
development of transport infrastructure, Forbes explained that roads
and bridges had been constructed, and that toward the end of the nine-
teenth century a small railway system, albeit one built by private capital
under British control, ran northward from Manila toward Lingayen
Gulf. Roads, he said, had been a staple of Spanish colonial public work,
and their construction had been done under a well-developed labor sys-
tem known as prestacion personal (forced labor). Public architecture, he
added, comprised “a number of dignified and some monumental edi-
fices, usually built for church purposes or for use of the higher officials,”
and given the need for military defense two walled settlements (in
Manila and Jolo)—“two of the finest examples of walled cities in exis-
tence”—had been constructed alongside forts and watch towers in the
provinces. Yet, though Forbes expressed his admiration for, to give two
examples, the splendor of the Philippines’ Baroque churches and the
grandeur of the fortifications in Manila and Jolo, he also expressed
incredulity at the wretched living conditions within the country’s urban
environments and the poor state of roads in the provinces. Many road-
ways, he opined, were by the start of the twentieth century in a state of
serious disrepair. So were a large number of bridges. They, he observed,
were often in such bad condition that during the wet season they were
115
116 Chapter 5
sometimes dangerous. On this, in reference to Manila, he explained that

during the summer months it was impossible to pull a loaded cart out of
the city. Such a situation, he said, posed a grave threat to the economic
life of the people.1
On islands such as Cebu, public work during the Spanish colonial
era was largely under the control of local officials. Given that funds for
public infrastructure projects were limited, the use of prestacion per-
sonal—Filipinos being forced to provide fifteen days labor in lieu of
“real money”—was commonplace. The supervision of laborers, as well
as the collection of any local taxes to finance public construction pro-
grams, fell under the remit of presidentes (local heads of state), who
were assisted by deputies that included priests. The implementation of
construction projects thereby coming under the direction of each local
representative of the Spanish colonial state, whose accounts in turn were
audited by provincial governors (who could impart technical advice
when required), on rare occasion money was issued by the Insular
Government solely to cover costs associated with “real engineering proj-
ects.” What real engineering projects entailed, according to Russell, was
the construction of stone bridges.2 Although, as noted earlier, funding
for municipal governments was scarce, labor was plentiful. But, signifi-
cantly, the Americans believed that the Filipino workforce had been
poorly managed by the Spaniards. Proof was evident in the lack of a
network of roads throughout the Philippine Archipelago and the lack of
high-quality road construction before 1898.
At the end of the nineteenth century, the Americans asserted that
fewer than three hundred kilometers of roads on Cebu Island were suit-
able for wheeled vehicles even though, at that time, large numbers of
people were moving back and forth between the fifty-two municipali-
ties, and freight was being transferred between the inland farms and
barrios (neighborhoods) to local markets and the port in Cebu City.3
Yet, because the poor condition of many roads made the movement of
traffic slow, it also during the wet season made travel extremely trouble-
some. For the Americans this situation was unacceptable. The routes of
many roadways were a cause for concern too. For example, the Spanish-
era coastal road built between Cebu City and Bogo (on the north of
Cebu Island) was laid out through swampy land, and therefore was lia-
ble to flood at high tide. Furthermore, because attempts during the
Spanish colonial age to improve the surface of roads had frequently
been undertaken by a workforce of women and children, lack of skill in
Regional Capital Plans and Provincial Civic Centers 117
road engineering meant that government-supervised ventures to upgrade

road quality rarely resulted in a positive outcome.
With regard to bridge construction on Cebu Island, several steel
bridges had been erected before the end of the Spanish Empire. Two lat-
tice girder bridges, each about twenty meters in length, had been built in
the mid-1890s to permit easier travel between Cebu City and urban
communities in the southern parts of the island. Although many Spanish-
era bridges were generically described by the Americans after 1898 as
being in good condition, their capacity to carry wheeled transport with
large loads was often questioned by Bureau of Public Works (BPW) civil
engineers. As a result, as part of the American process to modernize Phil-
ippine society, concrete became the material of choice not only for pub-
lic edifices in Manila and the provinces, but also for bridge construction.
As an example, by the early 1900s the Americans made a concerted
effort within Cebu City to construct new buildings using concrete.
Under the direction of William E. Parsons, consultant architect in the
BPW, buildings built of concrete included the Southern Islands Hospital,
situated near the new civic core proposed by Parsons in his 1912 city
plan, the Province High and Trade Schools, and the Custom House.
Located at the waterfront near the Spanish garrison (Fort San
Pedro), the Custom House (completed in 1912) was designed to have a
strong visual impact on people arriving in Cebu City by boat.4 Situated
within a spacious site, one with much open land to the sides and rear,
the building (like those proposed by Daniel Burnham in his 1905 plan
for Manila) was to help illustrate the new direction of Philippine society
under American administration. Built from reinforced concrete with an
internal steel truss—these being materials and construction techniques
that replaced the stone, wood, and bricks used for public edifices before
1898—the three-story, symmetrical edifice was decorated with tiles to
enhance its overall appearance. A fundamental component in the Amer-
ican redevelopment of the city center during the early 1900s, which
incorporated the improvement of the harbor, the rebuilding of Cebu’s
urban core following devastating fires in 1903 and 1905, and Parsons’
monumental city plan of 1912, the Custom House was to be the stand-
out American architectural feature on the seafront.
Renowned for its picturesque harbor, where Ferdinand Magellan
had landed in 1565 and proclaimed the Philippine Islands for the Span-
ish Crown, from 1905 the Americans invested much time and money to
improve the port facilities in Cebu.5 Analogous to the situation in
118 Chapter 5
Manila circa 1900, when large ships were unable to dock due to the
shallow depth and silting of Manila Bay, the renewal of the port in Cebu
meant that for the first time large wharfs were built, cargo cranes
installed, and rail lines laid down to connect the docks to the city cen-
ter.6 With a revamped seawall constructed from concrete—completed in
1908—and the new wharfs decked with stone from Danao, the revital-
ized waterfront enabled boats drawing as much as twenty-eight feet of
water to anchor and take cargo.7 Aiding the development of the Cebuano
economy, and in doing so the “advancement” of life in Cebu City and its
hinterland, the regeneration of the port was buttressed by the work of
the Cebu Burned Area Committee. Major fires had occurred in the early
1900s, destroying most of Cebu’s centrally located, dense business quar-
ter—a locale that in keeping with almost all Spanish colonial districts in
the Philippines in having been fashioned with narrow, crooked streets,
and poor drainage.8 Passage of Act No. 1614 in March 1907 meant that
the fire-damaged environment was scheduled for major rejuvenation.
Subsequently, existing streets were broadened to a width designated as
“desirable and proper.”9 New streets were also laid out. Empowering
the Cebu Burned Area Committee to disregard the Spanish colonial
urban form and to install alongside revamped roads new features such
as gutters, storm drains, and curbs, Act No. 1614 helped initiate a pro-
cess that was to transform Cebu into “an up-to-date American or Euro-
pean city.”10
On Mindanao, the large island at the south of the Philippine Archi-
pelago, just as on Cebu and Luzon Islands, urban environmental
improvements transpired soon after the commencement of American
colonization. Despite Mindanao’s large geographical area—in excess of
97,500 square kilometers—its population was only about six hundred
thousand at the time of the first American census in 1902. Of this popu-
lation, more than 80 percent were described as Muslim, known at that
time as Moros, the majority of the remainder as pagan or members of
“wild tribes.”11 Europeans and Americans totaled about eight hundred.
With the passing of Act No. 787 in 1903 to establish the Moro Province,
authority was granted to provide a new public works department on the
island, it having an executive and administrative head known as the
provincial engineer.12 Many of the office’s initial decisions related to
the upkeep of existing roads and bridges, and thus the Americans as part
of their early administration of Mindanao passed a law that required
every non-Christian male between the ages of eighteen and sixty to pay
per annum three pesos to the colonial government.13 Two pesos were to
finance road and bridge projects; one peso was to finance a general pub-
lic works fund. As part of this strategy, when necessary, the Americans
extended their facility of looking after existing roadways to laying down
new thoroughfares. Societal modernization meant more roads, and ones
of better construction quality than before.14 A new stipulation for road
intersections emerged in Mindanao: houses and coconut trees were now
sited at least forty feet from the center line of roadways so as to “invite
ornamental gardens in the space between houses and road limits.”15
Fences demarcating plots were to be set back a minimum three feet from
roadside ditches to establish an additional opportunity for enhancing
road appearance.
By 1915, the American regime in Mindanao had laid down
2,400 kilometers (1,490 miles) of trails and had constructed about
290 kilometers (180 miles) of hard-surfaced roadways, fifty-three kilo-
meters (thirty-three miles) of which were in and about the settlement of
Zamboanga. Until 1912, however, new bridges were built solely from
timber, an outcome of the free availability of local wood but also due to
the lack of large public funds for the substantial number of river and
valley crossings that were needed. In regard to public buildings, until
1914 the use of reinforced concrete in Mindanao was, like that for
bridges, somewhat limited, and used only for edifices on a penal colony
at San Ramon (near Zamboanga), for school buildings and the munici-
pal office in Zamboanga. Typically, public edifices of the early American
colonial era were constructed of hardwood with galvanized iron roof-
ing.16 In new market buildings, steel frames were introduced as part of
the load-bearing structure.
William E. Parsons: Exporting Modern Urban Planning

to the Provinces
The narrative of modern American urban planning in the Philip-
pines commonly focuses on one man, Daniel Burnham, one city, Manila,
and one scheme, the plan of 1905. This historiographical squint, at least
in the setting of early American colonization of the Philippines, disre-
gards the role of William E. Parsons. Parsons’ activities on the imple-
mentation of Burnham’s 1905 Manila scheme, the execution and
refinement of Burnham’s Baguio blueprint, and the plans for the regional
capital cities of Cebu and Zamboanga are generally downplayed or even
120 Chapter 5
ignored. Little consideration is normally given to Parsons’ work within

the BPW, either, especially his plans for provincial civic centers con-
structed before 1916. To iron out this historiographical flaw, this chap-
ter explains how Parsons needs to be regarded as the pivot upon which
the City Beautiful planning model diffused from Manila throughout the
Philippines after 1905.
In the Oxford Handbook of Cities in World History, Thomas Met-
calf suggests that the design of colonial cities “was never wholly imposed
from above by colonial rulers.”17 In the case of the Philippines, the pri-
mary agencies for the propagation of modern urban planning were not
Philippine commissioners or members of the US Congress or Senate. No
evidence suggests that they composed detailed directives as to what
Manila, Baguio, and other Philippine settlements should be in regard to
their appearance and plan. For this reason, attention has to be given to
the architect-planner Daniel Burnham, who introduced the City Beauti-
ful planning type to the country, and William E. Parsons, the man who
implemented Burnham’s plans and subsequently devised his own urban
design schemes in the Philippines in a similar vein. Yet, notably as well,
the nature of the American colonial mission and the working of colonial
governance in this intellectual framework should not go unnoticed. If
attention is not paid to this factor, the reasons Burnham was asked to
come to the Philippines will not be understood, nor will the rationale
behind the BPW’s creating major urban plans before 1916 be known.
The Americans, as explained in chapters 2, 3, and 4, intended to
reform Philippine society by more than simply reshaping culture, poli-
tics, the economy, and the environment of Manila. Even though they
typically began transition in the national capital so as to establish mod-
els for provincial politicians and citizens to replicate, the Philippine
Commission ventured to diffuse “improvement” throughout all the
provinces. To ensure that colonial government aims became a reality, the
Philippine Commission in the opening years of the twentieth century
established a pragmatic strategy. The course of action, as Philippine his-
toriography has broadly emphasized, incorporated the proliferation of
the English language, the development of an education system, the
establishment of a new political system, and the restructuring of the
national economy. However, as noted earlier, when examining the early
period of American colonial rule in the Philippines it is important to not
downplay the value of the remodeling of towns and cities to Philippine
society’s development. Urban design was a fundamental device of the
Philippine Commission’s operations. Although the insertion of City

Beautiful plans onto Philippine soil evidently diminished the presence of
Spanish colonial spatial logic and so the importance of the forts,
churches and plazas built before 1898, the Americans’ capacity to forge
“modern cities” was fueled by other imperatives: to devise new social
and economic opportunities for the populous; to unify a population
until then disparate in language, culture, and identity; and to control the
Filipino elites.18 Revising the nature of local society by reshaping urban
environments could promote visual, economic, and political distance
between the Spanish and American colonial eras. In this setting, urban
design both literally and metaphorically was vital to the American gov-
ernmental practice of bestowing to Filipinos what at the end of the
Spanish colonial period was other worldly and, in this milieu, offered
the capacity to help unite the population for the first time as Filipinos
citizens.
As the geographical starting point for Spanish colonization in the
Philippine Archipelago, Cebu City had emblematic value during the early
1900s. Its population numbered about fourteen thousand by the 1890s,
making it one of the largest urban settlements in the Visayas region.19
The form of the city’s environment at the end of Spanish colonial rule
articulated the importance of the Catholic Church, Fort San Pedro, and
the Plaza de Armas—the oval-shaped green space situated immediately
to the west and front of the garrison. This space had essentially been the
physical nucleus of Cebu prior to 1898, emphasized by the siting of
Casa de Gobierno (office of the provincial governor) immediately to its
western flank.20 Parsons’ City Beautiful–inspired urban plan of 1912
not only reduced the prestige of the locality by moving the colonial gov-
ernment to a new civic center at the urban fringe and devising of a new
road arrangement to and from the new civic area, but also accentuated
its importance to “Modern Cebu.”
In the colonial historiography of the Philippines, and in particular
the historiography of the American colonial era, Parsons is usually
only discussed in relation to two architectural points: the improvement
of the quality of construction materials in the country and the upgrad-
ing of construction techniques.21 Then again, Parsons’ contribution to
city planning in the country is in many respects equal to that of Daniel
Burnham. Although it is known that Parsons was not the first to import
the City Beautiful model to Southeast Asia, he nonetheless was the first
qualified designer implementing it in Manila and in locales outside
122 Chapter 5
Luzon Island, for example, in the regional capital cities of Cebu and
Zamboanga. Even though, as Jeffrey Cody shows, Parsons instigated
building improvements as a result of importing modern building
technologies directly from the United States, it is often overlooked that
he also enacted spatial transition within numerous Philippine cities
thanks to his grand urban plans and provincial capital projects.22
Holding the highest design-planning post within the BPW for a num-
ber of years immediately after its founding in 1905, Parsons undertook
a sheer volume of work that, if nothing else, earns him a prominent
role in the formative modern urban planning narrative of the Philip-
pines. Of course, without downplaying the contribution of Daniel
Burnham, it must not go unheeded that Parsons was responsible for
redefining the urban form of not only Cebu and Zamboanga, but also
places such as Albay, Capiz, Iliolo, and Pampagna, and that these as
well as other Philippine cities today would be profoundly different in
environmental terms without his planning input during the years
before 1916.
The Reshaping of Cebu

Parsons’ planning activities are an ignored element of Philippine
urban history. Detailed literature on this work is at present limited. As a
result, his impact on Philippine city design is downplayed even though
between 1905 and 1914 his contribution to the evolution of colonial
city planning was immense. Controlling public architectural and plan-
ning projects throughout the country, Parsons composed a large number
of grand, symmetrical civic cores and frequently laid out boulevards
radiating to and from the new civic districts.23 Such was his influence
that these two features become a basic component of the “modern Phil-
ippine city” by 1916.
In both ideological and pragmatic terms, Parsons’ approach to city
designing was swayed by the practices and thoughts of Daniel Burn-
ham.24 Evidence for such a statement can be found in Parsons’ 1915
Architectural Record article. In “Burnham as a Pioneer of City Plan-
ning,” Parsons stated that Burnham “more than any other man of our
time” had attempted “to make the modern city convenient for commerce
and attractive and healthful as a place of residence.” Outlining the
importance of Burnham’s work at the World’s Fair in Chicago in 1893,
Parsons noted that the plan of the event “was an object lesson in accom-
plished idealism; it demonstrated to the American people the effective-

ness of the grouping of buildings in orderly relation to each other.”
Commenting too that Burnham’s work at the start of the twentieth cen-
tury in Washington, DC, and Cleveland further endorsed the principle of
grouping important buildings in an orderly composition with nearby
urban spaces, in Manila Parsons identified that Burnham had sought to
remedy the issue of controlling the future growth of the city by design-
ing new streets and spaces, and relocating the government buildings out
of the Intramuros. Working within the BPW to execute Burnham’s plans
in Manila and Baguio, Parsons expressed pride in accomplishing Burn-
ham’s planning concepts.25
Parsons’ city plan for Cebu comprised a handful of basic constitu-
ents: redeveloping the shoreline by laying out Sea Front Boulevard;
creating a new civic center at the city’s western boundary; building three
monumental boulevards radiating to the west, northwest, and northeast
from the city’s central business district—the road running to the north-
west going directly to the center of the front elevation of the new capi-
tol; and laying out a boulevard heading east to west directly in front of
the Capitol so as to connect the new governmental quarter to suburban
residential districts (see figure 5.1). As in Burnham’s 1905 plan for
Manila, prominent Spanish colonial urban features such as the fort and
central plaza were to be retained albeit with a greatly diminished role.
No more were the Plaza de Armas and Fort San Pedro to be the hub of
Cebu. No more would Cebu’s built environment outwardly glorify
Spanish colonial might. Instead, from 1912, the plaza and garrison were
to be nothing more than backdrops for citizens promenading in proxim-
ity to the shore. Furthermore, with the reorientation of the city to the
west the new urban form via its monumental vistas (along new roads)
was to now venerate the presence of a democratic political institution
within the regional capital city.26 Reiterating the views of Thomas Hines,
Gerard Lico identifies Parsons’ grand manner approach to urban plan-
ning in Cebu as in keeping with the work of Burnham.27 This style of
planning was not a one-off: it was repeated in the plan for Zamboanga
and reproduced at a smaller spatial scale in the provincial capitol
schemes developed throughout the country. For A. N. Rebori, Parsons’
city plans for Cebu and Zamboanga had fundamental commonalities:
each scheme entailed construction of one or more important public
building and laying out of new streets directly to and from these
edifices.28
124 Chapter 5
Chapter 2 highlighted that the Americans at the beginning of

their colonization of the Philippine Archipelago believed that levels of
civilization were low. Crucial to their capacity to “uplift” society was
the education of Filipino elites in the philosophy and practice of demo-
cratic government because the Americans believed that if the local
elites were left to their own devices then the dictatorial authority that
typified the Spanish colonial age would be sustained. The American
argument ran that in a society defined for more than three hundred
years by the heavy hand of Spanish culture, Catholicism, and authori-
tarian politics, a small elite Spanish-speaking clique would, if given the
chance, keep the masses ignorant and downtrodden after the collapse
of the Spanish Empire. To demonstrate to this Filipino social group
what good governance was, the Philippine Commission aimed to
improve cultural, economic, and social conditions. By expanding the
economy, developing transport infrastructure, improving housing and
public health, and beautifying towns and cities, the Americans’ “little
brown brothers” in the elite class were to help facilitate societal transi-
Figure 5.1. William E. Parsons’ 1912 plan for Cebu. Source: Rebori, “Work of
William E. Parsons,” 426.
tion under close supervision inside municipal, regional, and national

government offices. This conveyance of the rule of law and the estab-
lishment of civic bodies working for the benefit of all social groups in
society was, in this political milieu, to articulate itself visually and spa-
tially through the restructured layout of cities that, following the
model imported to the Philippines by Daniel Burnham, was to set up
grand vistas to public offices, lay out new spaces with statuary, and the
like.29 Cebu was to be the first opportunity to present this politico-
spatial concept to Philippine society outside the settings of Manila and
Baguio.
The importance of Parsons’ Cebu city plan becomes clear in the
context of daily life in Cebu in the run-up to 1898. During the 1800s,
significant economic development followed the emergence of the city as
an entrepôt for products from the islands of Bohol, Cebu, Leyte, Panay,
Samar, and the northern coast of Mindanao. The opening of Cebu as a
world port in 1860 prompted unparalleled commercial and agricultural
expansion in the city and its hinterland. Cebu became, alongside Iloilo,
the embryonic economic hub of the Visayas region: ships laden with
products such as rice, hemp, coffee, sugar, abaca, wax, mother-of-pearl,
and tobacco frequented Cebu’s docks, in turn stimulating the transship-
ment of Visayan products, the ownership of new marketing outlets in
the city, and a rise in property speculation among members of the local
elite. As the urban elites used their growing wealth to purchase urban
houses and rural haciendas (landed estates), modifications to landhold-
ing patterns emerged in and about Cebu City. Through the expansion of
shipping routes to and from Cebu as well, an outcome of the introduc-
tion of steamships in the mid-nineteenth century, the city as a trading
center became closely aligned to the economies of Manila and Iloilo. As
steamships reduced travel from Cebu to Manila to just two days, stimu-
lating mercantile activity in Cebu, on Cebu Island, and within the
Visayas region as a whole—in part due to increased trade between the
port and Southeast Asian nations—the elites (principalias) responded by
forming new businesses by establishing partnerships between prominent
and wealthy families. Of note also was the emergence of new financial
institutions. Although in political terms a Spanish colony, the Philip-
pines during the second half of the nineteenth century increasingly mate-
rialized as an export-centered economy under strong Anglo-Chinese
influence.30 The growing role of overseas merchants had a number of
ramifications grounded in the opening of foreign banks, the issuing
126 Chapter 5
of the country’s first bank notes, and the rise of Chinese traders as
intermediaries between Spanish and foreign merchants.31 Consequently,
by 1898, “what the Americans inherited when they occupied the Philip-
pines was a commodity export economy controlled by local landed elites
and financed by two large British colonial banks.”32
Connected with economic transformation during the 1800s in
Cebu was demographic change. In population terms, the settlement
grew and in social terms it diversified. After 1850, the local Chinese
community expanded significantly, and Europeans, including the Brit-
ish and Americans, became a prominent social group. The Chinese
were crucial to the evolution of local society: “They formed cabecillas,
a system in which they dealt directly with foreign commercial houses,
accepted cash advances to collect goods from the countryside for
delivery to the firms, and in turn loaned money to planters and petty
merchants.”33 They also acted as agents for Manila-based cabecillas,
and operated retail outlets (tiendas de sari-sari) in the city where
imported goods could be bought. Although by 1891 the Chinese made
up less than 10 percent of Cebu’s population—which at that time was
almost 14,100—and were on the whole males employed as laborers
(jornaleros), the Chinese community and its role in the rise of Cebu
should not be misjudged. Through the acquisition of wealth, many
Chinese had successfully integrated themselves into Spanish cultural
circles, and so had local political influence by the time the Spanish-
American War began.34
The European community in Cebu grew in size as the nineteenth
century unfolded. One of the reasons for the increase in the Spanish
population was the influx of priests, soldiers, professionals, and mer-
chants, especially during the second half of the century. As Cebu emerged
as an economic metropole in Southeast Asia, individuals from places
such as Germany, Switzerland, Denmark, and Britain arrived to inaugu-
rate new business operations. Such was the importance of Cebu’s busi-
ness activities by circa 1900 that the city was highly ranked in the
Philippine national economic context (see table 5.1). More than three
hundred foreign nationals resided in the city at the close of the nine-
teenth century, of whom 125 or so were American. Cebu accordingly
had a social and ethnic complexity far greater than other Philippine cit-
ies, Manila aside. By the early 1900s, almost half of the city’s population
of 31,079 lived in the inner districts of Ermita, Laguna, Likod, Lutao,
Pampango, Panting, Parian, Pili, San Roque, and Tinago. This increase
in people and building density within and about the urban core, com-
bined with the expansion of dock and manufacturing industry (such as
pottery, shoes, and brick) in the latter decades of the nineteenth century
led to urban problems on a scale never previously witnessed. These pre-
dicaments became explicitly manifest in disastrous fires in the years after
1900, conflagrations that destroyed large swathes of central, Spanish-
era districts.
Between the mid-1500s and late 1800s, racial groups were socially,
culturally, and spatially segregated in Philippine settlements such as
Cebu.35 As an outcome of this government policy, within Cebu the cen-
tral districts were designated for the Spanish colonizers and their
Table 5.1. Economic Rank of Philippine Towns and Cities in 1903

Place Professional Service Trade and Manufacturing
Transport and Retail
Manila 1 1 1
Iloilo 2 3 3
Cebu 3 2 9
Legaspi 4 12 4
Malabon 12 4 7
Cavite 5 13 18
Taal-Lemery 24 5 4
Naga 6 13 16
Dagupan 19 6 17
Lipa 12 19 9
Batangas 19 7 6
Loang 6 23 2
San Pablo 15 13 15
Aparri 26 11 20
Zamboanga 6 22 31
San Fernando 9 13 26
Santa Cruz 11 13 32
Capiz 15 28 7
Baliuag 14 18 11
Malolos 22 9 26
Dumaguete 22 28 12
Daet 26 23 22
Tacloban 31 19 26
Source: Census of the Philippine Islands, 270–311, 868–893.
128 Chapter 5
r etainers, and peripheral areas for native Filipinos, the Chinese, and oth-
ers. From as early as the end of the sixteenth century, the Chinese had
their own quarter, known as the Parian, situated to the north of Plaza de
Armas. By the mid-1800s, the district, owing to the activities of the Chi-
nese and Chinese mestizos (mixed race), was a place of increasing local
power and prestige.36 On the strength of their growing ties to the inter-
national economic world and Spanish colonial dominion and their ris-
ing affluence, the Chinese elite responded to broad changes in Philippine
society by offering both vocal and financial support for Spanish rule.
After a major uprising in the city in April 1898, followed by the com-
mencement of American colonial governance in the Philippines in
December 1898, a fundamental task was to ensure administrative con-
trol and, to cite Yoshiko Nagano, to restructure the economy: “With the
US occupation the Americans aimed to delink their major colony from
the British sphere in Asia and to integrate it into their own expanding
overseas economy.”37
Cebu’s built fabric by the start of the twentieth century comprised
roughly two thousand buildings. Certain racial groups, building types,
and businesses clustered in particular parts of the city gave Cebu what
McGee labelled a ubiquitous colonial core, that is, a clearly defined cen-
tral area typified by commercial and servicing functions.38 Excluding the
plazas in proximity to churches such as Santo Niño de Cebu and Fort
San Pedro, by the start of the twentieth century Cebu’s downtown was
largely defined by small and medium-sized business establishments, or
industrial units. Given this built environmental reality, and the historical
context of social unrest in 1898 and catastrophic fires (occurring in
1898, 1903, and 1905), the Americans made use of the opportunity pre-
sented to them to rebuild the city by redesigning streets and buildings.39
In the aftermath of the 1905 fire, one that destroyed more than thirteen
hectares (thirty-two acres) of central land, provincial engineer Warren
Allen remarked,
The streets have been newly aligned upon a rectangular plan. With the
exception of Calle Infanta, which has been widened from 10 to
20 meters, all of the other streets have been straightened out and wid-
ened from 12 to 24 meters. . . . The narrowest streets in our district are
15 meters in width. Cement sidewalks have been given a uniform
grade of 3, 4 and 5 meters wide according to the total width of the
street. The new buildings, all of modern construction, are from one to
two stories in height with a minimum elevation of 8 and a maximum

of 12 meters.40
With its narrow, old streets, Cebu was described at the turn of the twen-
tieth century as an environment that was “very irregular, inadequate for
the growth of the city.” Given this actuality, after the inferno of 1905,
“it was decided to lay out the city anew.”41 To accomplish this in Sep-
tember 1905, after the passing of Act No. 1393, the Americans ensured
that damaged buildings were to be quickly rebuilt, but from concrete
rather than from wood. Americans also introduced rules to stop prop-
erty speculation: land prices were frozen to the same level as before the
disaster. Thanks to the involvement of Warren Allen, who emphasized
the advantages of laying out new sewers, streets, and pavements, road-
ways would be straighter and wider than before, and by March 1912
urban planning reached a turning point.42 At that time, William E. Par-
sons was approached by the governor-general, Cameron Forbes, to visit
Cebu for the purpose of composing a major urban plan, and in doing so
build upon the environmental suggestions Allen had put forward a
handful of years earlier. The resultant 1912 city plan, similar to Burn-
ham’s 1905 Manila scheme, was to guide the future expansion of Cebu.
Analogous too to Burnham’s plan for Manila, Parsons’ project would
beautify the city and develop a new governmental center.43 All in all, as
an outcome of Parsons’ 1912 scheme, the spatial and visual gravity of
Cebu was to shift.
In visual terms, the provincial capitol was to be the primary pub-
lic building in the restructured city (see figure 5.2). It was to be the
anchor of the symmetrical civic core at the western periphery of Cebu’s
urban sprawl and the architectural feature that a new lengthy, broad
boulevard, Jones Avenue, would connect to the downtown area. Like-
wise, supplementary views to the building were to be offered from
other new roadways laid out within new districts sited west of the
Spanish-era environment. Thus, Parsons was not only implanting a
civic core of classical plan into the emergent Visayan regional capital
for the first time but also, in broad terms, conveying an urban appear-
ance and morphology in contrast to that of the Spanish colonial age.
For example, whereas during the Spanish period Cebu’s road pattern
was defined by thin, sometimes curvy, and short in length streets, a core
feature of the American-era urban fabric were to be long, broad, and
straight thoroughfares.
130 Chapter 5
Figure 5.2. Front elevation of the Capitol, Cebu. Designed by Juan Arellano,
completed in 1938. Source: Author.
Of the new road pattern, three boulevards radiating out of the

downtown quarter dominated modern Cebu. Running west, northwest,
and northeast, these roadways not only connected the existing inner dis-
tricts to the urban fringe capitol, but also, owing to their symmetrical
configuration—they were arranged from a new bridge at the edge of the
inner city and fanned out to the urban fringe at the same distance or
angle from each other—were reminiscent of the roadways from Baroque
spaces such as the Piazza del Popolo in Rome and the plaza at the front
of the Château de Versailles in Paris.44 The geometric urban form of
modern Cebu was strengthened by the boulevards being connected by
link roads running parallel to each other in a northwest to southeast
pattern, and thus intersecting the larger thoroughfares to form a monu-
mental grid. Its overall configuration laid out to the west of the railway
line constructed in 1907, Cebu as designed by Parsons was to have its
perimeter marked at the waterfront by Sea Front Boulevard and at the
suburban fringe by an arterial boulevard. Connecting the southwestern
end of the city to the new civic center, and to the suburbs in the city’s
northeast, the orbital roadway permitted traffic to flow from one side of
the city to other. In doing so, it provided local citizens with views of the
Capitol as they traveled about the city’s fringe.
That new roadways in Parsons’ Cebu were to be wide and straight
was a direct response to the introduction of automobiles in the city in
1910. Parsons’ intention to increase the number of roadways within the
city and, because of their distinct form, aid direct communication
between different points in the city, was to improve traffic circulation in
terms of both convenience and speed. This, it was thought, would aid
business activity in different parts of the city, and benefit commercial
enterprises taking place between the city and the rural surroundings.
Although Parsons’ planning vision for Cebu has in Philippine urban his-
toriography been given lip service in seeking to explain the Americans’
beautifying of the regional capital city, far less has been written of Par-
sons’ urban plan in correspondence to matters of transport infrastruc-
ture and local economic progress. Hence, as much as Warren Allen’s
urban renewal scheme after 1905 ventured to lay down a conceptual
and legal framework to cultivate Cebu as a modern business center, the
1912 plan—given its fundamental intention of aiding the management
of the future growth of the city—has profound meaning for more than
the environmental beautification it helped instigate. What is more,
because Cebu by 1898 was challenging Iloilo as the economic capital of
the Visayas region, Parsons’ plan with its attention to a planning axis
running to the Capitol permitted Cebu to develop with an environmen-
tal character befitting a modern, high-status, urban community, albeit
one now laid out in accord with City Beautiful notions.45 Urban spaces
were vital as well to this demonstration of the settlement’s lofty new-age
standing. For example, two landscaped spaces were formed in proximity
to the western and eastern elevations of the Capitol, and a space in front
of its main (south-facing) facade was also established. Recommended by
Parsons to be decorated with a fountain, the space at the building’s front
was subsequently marked at its center point by a large flagpole. How-
ever, notably, Parsons’ original intention to establish a monumental view
toward the center of Cebu from the Capitol, or in reverse create a grand
view from the urban core to the building, persists today. To refer again
to new spaces suggested in the 1912 plan, two substantial green spaces
at the southern end of Jones Avenue were to be laid down. The spaces to
the east and west of the thoroughfare near the bridge where the axis of
the three primary boulevards in the city was anchored, the centers on
132 Chapter 5
which new public edifices were to be located, the landscaped banks of

the Guadalupe River, and parks in the northeastern suburbs—these
open areas within Cebu reformed how the city was to present itself.46
No longer was the Plaza de Armas, Cebu’s equivalent of the Luneta in
Manila, the only decent-sized green space in the city. After 1912 citizens
could instead promenade along the river, walk in open spaces about the
Capitol, enjoy open spaces at Jones Avenue, or enjoy new parks. Civic
beauty was vital to establishing civic pride, Christopher Vernon empha-
sizes, and new urban spaces were central to cultural and community
cohesion.47 Spaces, as a result, not only aided urban beautification but
also allowed all classes of people, from the lowest class to principalias,
to socially engage with each other. Politically, culturally, economically,
visually, and spatially, the Cebu envisaged by Parsons had little in com-
mon with the Cebu of 1898. No longer did the city center itself on the
seafront plaza: it now looked along the westward incline to the Capitol
(designed by Juan Arellano, erected 1937), a building housing the city’s
first-ever democratically elected officials. All in all, Parsons laid down a
clear-cut planning statement in Cebu, and he was to subsequently reprise
it in Zamboanga on the island of Mindanao.
Mindanao, Ethnography, and Urban Planning

If it is accepted that the redevelopment of Cebu during the early
1900s had great practical and symbolic meaning for the Americans
within their framework of exporting “advancement” into the provinces,
then it is also necessary to recognize and document the benefits gained
by instigating a comprehensive urban plan in Zamboanga before 1916.48
Unlike that on most Philippine islands at the time, American coloniza-
tion in Mindanao was by 1898 still dominated by two major cultural
phenomena: Islam, not Christianity, was the principal religion; and life
was predominantly in small tribal communities. Because the island’s
population had a reputation “for primitive savagery, unprovoked hostil-
ity, and stoic fearlessness,” the deep-rooted existence of Islam meant
that before 1898 Filipinos on Mindanao never wholly embraced Cathol-
icism and Spanish colonial rule.49 Furthermore, they tended to harass
the Spanish colonial government based in Manila, “which unfortunately
did not have the sufficient resources to solve the problem definitely,”
through raids on ships and military outposts.50 In Zamboanga, however,
the Spanish colonial presence was more deeply felt than in other Mind-
anao locales. In 1635, a large stone fort was built in the city, and from
that time the settlement served as the colonial capital of the island.
Nonetheless, within just a year after the end of Spanish colonial rule in
1898, the American presence was felt in Zamboanga.51 American
approaches to citizenship, government, culture, and development con-
trasted from that in other places in the Philippine Archipelago:
Filipino Muslims provided a unique opportunity for the American

imperialists to test the efficacy and limits of their civilizing abilities. For
more than three hundred years the Spanish failed to subdue the islands’
Muslim population and achieved only a superficial conquest by the
closing decades of the nineteenth century. Thus, from the beginning,
Americans approached Christian and Muslim Filipinos as distinctly
separate entities with separate histories.52
The importance for the Americans of controlling and developing Zam-

boanga, which is situated on the southwestern coast of Mindanao, so
that their colonial governmental objectives could be enacted on the
island was in part grounded in the character of the coastal Moros.53 The
inhabitants by nature were seafarers: Zamboanga was a port for traders
in Mindanao, Sulu, Borneo, Singapore, and Sulawesi. As the colonial
capital of the Moro Province, Zamboanga post-1899 faced a unique set
of challenges. One was cultural.54 Another was geographical: Mindanao
was four times larger in area than any other Philippine province, had a
sparse and scattered population, and was situated almost one thousand
kilometers from Manila. Located at the south of the Philippine Archi-
pelago, it basically, and by this it is meant historically, was a large chunk
of Philippine territory insulated from colonial politics in Manila.55 The
final test was economic (see table 5.1): the economic rank of Zambo-
anga within the Philippine national context was not exceptional. No
substantial economy existed within the city or its hinterland by the early
twentieth century.56 Although ranked sixth nationally for its profes-
sional services, an outcome chiefly from the settlement having the fifth
largest number of Chinese-born citizens in the Philippines, Zamboanga
was by no means a national economic heavyweight.57 In comparison
with those of Manila, the port facilities of Zamboanga received just a
fraction of the imported goods the national capital city received:
Manila’s port by the end of the 1800s received approximately 99 per-
cent of all foreign imported goods into the Philippines. Given the lack of
134 Chapter 5
e conomic development in the country, Zamboanga was what might be

termed a second-rank urban center.
One of the primary objects of early American colonial rule in Min-
danao was to contextualize Moros, as a geographical and cultural fron-
tier, within the new colonial regime.58 As a locale for “pioneer work,”
Mindanao provided an immense opportunity for American colonial
governance to show its genuine ability to “uplift” and “civilize” in accor-
dance with President McKinley’s 1899 Benevolent Assimilation Procla-
mation. In a sense, as Michael Hawkins observes, the distinct nature of
the Moros granted the Americans with a resource to construct a “mod-
ern colonial subject”: “Far from the emasculated and corrupted victims
of Spanish tyranny so often portrayed in the north, Moros were thought
to have retained a visceral and organic connection to the environ-
ment.”59 Because civilization in Mindanao was perceived by the Ameri-
cans as backward, the primitivism of the population consequently served
a unique governmental utility for validating and reaffirming notions of
American colonial progress, and the initial way this goal of imparting
“advancement” was to be achieved was by pacifying the Moros. Then,
with peace secured, guidance by example and by education could
transpire.
Before any explanation of the form of William E. Parsons’ plan for
Zamboanga is supplied, further attention to the historical context must
be provided, and in this respect comment on American attitudes to race
and civilization are essential. This topic has been covered in great depth
by numerous authors, but at the core of the US governmental strategy
for Mindanao was contemporary scientific thinking and theory associ-
ated with racial-cultural taxonomy.60 Critical to the colonizers’ grasp of
the Moro civilization was the expanding field of ethnography, which, as
Paul Kramer explains, led to the rationalization among Americans that
the diffusion of their cultural and political influence across the entire
Philippine Archipelago was in no way imperialistic but rather “expan-
sionist” given its capacity to fill culturally deprived “empty spaces”
unsullied by prior colonization or external civilizing influence.61 Within
this framework, because ethnographers were key to comprehending
human experience in Mindanao, and thus in broad terms Moro culture
and evolution, the field of ethnography “represented a viable analytical
field for measuring human progress—a field supported by the objectivity
and transcendence of scientific law.”62 With the end of the Philippine-
American War in mid-1902 and passage of the Philippine Organic Act
on July 1, 1902, the Americans by establishing civil government through-

out the Philippines provided themselves with an administrative frame-
work in the municipalities and regions not just to shape but also to give
coherence and legitimacy to their powers and self-proclaimed responsi-
bilities. From such a foundation, those deemed lesser than the Ameri-
cans could be “uplifted,” and within the backdrop of progressivism the
practice of “good government” could overcome all cultural and socio-
economic ills that hitherto existed. Furthermore, because the Americans
constructed images and representations of the Moros and pagan tribes
of Mindanao after their arrival on the island in 1899, both colonial gov-
ernmental officials and ethnographers were able to collectively compose
a scientific-moral discourse that underpinned all public action in the
years that followed. Although US government officials conducted their
work under the auspices of scientific discovery, observation, and mea-
surement, “in most cases they were looking for specific answers to par-
ticular questions. . . . In most cases, imperial taxonomies simply required
colonial officials to discover ways to contextualize their findings within
pre-existing, acceptable, and knowable categories.”63 This standpoint,
all in all, produced two effects in association with governance in Mind-
anao: first, any transition within local society instigated by the coloniz-
ers post-1899 was integrated into the universal narrative of societal
development; second, by constructing, representing, and analyzing civi-
lization in Mindanao, the Americans justified power relationships
grounded in their colonial rule. By generating representations of Filipi-
nos in Mindanao, and for that matter on other islands in the Philippines,
validated by modern scientific thought, the Americans were able to
determine the degrees of civilization among their colonial subjects. In
addition, given their reputation for savagery coupled with their uncivi-
lized state of being, the Philippine Muslims—who until then were
unconquered and thus untainted by archaic European colonialism—
provided the United States with the greatest opportunity to test cultural-
racial theories and, likewise, succeed governmentally where Spain had
failed.64
To reinforce the American capacity to govern over “wild people”
in Mindanao, the Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes was established in
1901.65 Directed by David Burrows, who had experience working with
Native Americans, the office sought to gather information pertaining to
the geography, culture, language, and history of the Philippines. Believ-
ing that American social thinking was at the cutting edge of m odern
136 Chapter 5
intellectual thought, and therefore incapable of forging the damaging,

oppressive imperialism that had characterized the Philippine Archipel-
ago before 1898, Barrows and his peers in the bureau initially struggled
to position the Moros within chronicles of world history, Malay history,
Islamic history, Anglo-Saxon and American history, and colonial his-
tory—and thus their place within the Philippine national construct.66
But, to reiterate, the character of Mindanao’s Muslims, given the nature
of American intellectualism and their colonial governmental aspirations,
gave them great value to the colonizers. Through the production of
images and “facts” of the native population, American cultural suprem-
acy could, if nothing else, be affirmed. This sense of cultural hegemony
as part of the extended reach of the modern colonial state was in the
early twentieth century applied to the reformation of urban space in
Zamboanga. By restructuring the city, the Americans not only estab-
lished an evolutionary narrative with respect to the nature of the people
of Mindanao but also, ultimately, devised a new narrative of themselves
as purveyors of progressivism. Benevolent conquest through force alone,
it seems, could not accomplish the long-term aims set out by President
McKinley.67
As a showcase for American colonial administration, what Patricio
Abinales calls “a regime within a regime,” Mindanao functioned as a
geographical and cultural site where people previously outside the Phil-
ippine colonial construct could be integrated into “modern civiliza-
tion.”68 The application of a grand urban plan in Zamboanga, as in
Cebu and the capital cities of each Philippine province before 1916, was
to help imprint onto the Filipino mind the strength and the stability of
the American colonial government and help propagate what might be
labeled Philippine national culture as well as civic liberalism (as an out-
come of political interaction between the Americans and the local popu-
lations).69 As part of the Philippine Commission’s broad strategy to
develop a new society with a common language, identity, and, for
instance, an expanded transport infrastructure, a matter that from 1903
incorporated road, bridge, park, and rail construction, plus the subsid-
ing of steam boats, urban plans before 1916 were to enable Filipinos to
physically and politically come together. Part of this effort involved
reshaping public memory, for example, by creating new national institu-
tions and constructing monuments to heroes in urban spaces and parks,
and by developing a canon based on the American understanding of
what “being Filipino” should be.70
In endeavoring to implement modern and future-orientated state-

building by standardizing the politico-ethnic notion of being Filipino,
the performing of civic rituals within public offices and urban spaces
was valuable. Consequently, in schools the national flag was hoisted
alongside the American flag each day, pictures of Rizal were hung in
classrooms, and texts by renowned Filipinos such as Apolinario Mabini
and Andres Bonifacio studied as part of teachings in citizenship. Nota-
bly as well, following the early 1900s intention to erect a national mon-
ument to Rizal in Burnham’s Mall in the heart of New Manila, additional
monuments of the first Philippine national hero were subsequently con-
structed throughout the country and, in partnership, new urban spatial
forms laid down. In creating new public spaces, and by ensuring the
high visibility of new statuary and civic edifices within “the modern
Philippine city,” Parsons helped enact a metaculture that was to sit above
“low regional cultures.” Thus, whereas the Spanish had sought to eradi-
cate Philippine traditions, the Americans took a different approach: they
ventured to restyle customs into the form of a new national culture, one
allied to the “modern,” so that Filipinos could embrace a higher level of
civilization. If they did not do so, Filipinos were not just destined to
remain, in American eyes, an inferior race but also as such would not be
allowed by the colonizers to govern themselves. In light of their per-
ceived cultural shortcomings, environmental transformation was one
way among many to help fortify Filipinos’ progression from the “primi-
tive” to “advanced.” This process, with regard to the urban environ-
ment, was to be manifest in constructing new buildings and spaces that
used materials, technologies, and planning notions evident in the United
States.
Parsons’ Zamboanga city plan drew on numerous City Beautiful
concepts. Advocating the construction of public edifices (within a new
civic center) at the heart of the city, as well as the development of a new
commercial quarter, housing district, system of roads, and of public
parks, Parsons envisaged a city that was to visually and morphologically
focus itself on the new capitol from which “the principal arteries of
communication radiate.”71 The siting of the Capitol, the laying out of
spaces about it as well as roadways to and from it, revealed how the
colonial administration used space to give material form to the evolu-
tion of local society (see figure 5.3). Dividing the central built environ-
ment into blocks 250 feet by 300 feet, to be partially built on a
420-foot-wide strip of reclaimed land, a 200-foot-wide green space was
138 Chapter 5
to be positioned parallel to the shoreline. This space, a public garden,

was to provide a site for people to promenade and socialize. It was also
to be filled with trees to protect the nearby buildings from the glare of
the tropical sun.
In City Beautiful Zamboanga, where roadways could be up to
one-hundred feet in width, a tree-lined boulevard was to be established
between Fort del Pilar, the eighteenth-century Spanish fortress, and the
Capitol, the governmental nucleus of American rule in Mindanao.
Linking by sight line the two most important structures in Zamboan-
ga’s political history, the boulevard, now called NS Valderosa Street,
was to also forge from the capitol a grand vista to the Fort’s grounds,
which were to be planted with grass and trees so that it could be inte-
grated into the city’s new park system. In this way, the fort, an icon of
Spanish colonial rule, like the Intramuros walls in Manila and Fort San
Pedro in Cebu, was to be relegated to a parade area for local citizens
(see figure 5.4).72
In visual terms, New Zamboanga was to be impressive. Whereas
Nipa huts were once the predominant form of architecture, Parson’s
scheme proposed new buildings “of a proper construction and character,”
Figure 5.3. William E. Parsons’ plan for Zamboanga. Source: Rebori, “Work of
William E. Parsons,” 426.
Figure 5.4. Rizal Park in Zamboanga, with monument to José Rizal and City Hall
in the background. Source: Author.
which meant edifices formed in a modern, symmetrical style, of larger

scales than existing architecture, and constructed with concrete so as
to solidify the presence of American power and civilization as an
aspirational model for Philippine nationhood.73 To be designed in the
same aesthetic—classical, albeit with window and roof forms influ-
enced by Spanish Manila—so that they could harmonize with each
other, the buildings, and the tropical foliage of the new public gar-
dens and boulevards to “give the city an imposing and quite unique
appearance.”74 As the most important feature in the restructured
urban environment, the civic center was to have its own urban spaces.
One, sited between the civic quarter and the shoreline was to have its
center point marked by a statue. Offering an unobstructed view of
the Capitol and surrounding public edifices to passing shipping, the
space and the nearby buildings were fundamental to the city’s new
image.75
140 Chapter 5
The implementation of an urban plan in Zamboanga, a settlement

of primarily Muslim Filipinos, provided the United States with an occa-
sion to test its capacity to civilize and unify colonial subjects. Even
though schools, education in democratic politics, and a civic identity
were promoted by the Americans in Zamboanga to help encourage the
colonizers and colonized Muslims to cooperate, in part in the hope of
reducing deep-rooted Christian-Muslim animosities, the government
strategy was buoyed by economic policy.76 Given that Moro culture was
identified by the Americans as being “backward,” it is critical to appreci-
ate how the colonizers envisaged assimilating the Moros into a national
society framework. To come to terms with this, one major point merits
emphasis: Moro “backwardness”—such as that as shown by their
houses, “filthy and picturesque. Women, drab as sparrows and ancient
at thirty, stand in the doorways”—was not only an upshot of cultural
matters but also an effect of ignorance about the affluent possibilities of
modernity. The Mindanao economy being stimulated by a new business
district in Zamboanga’s city plan, the local population would, given the
nature of American thinking and its positive beliefs about capitalism,
become purged of their primitive character.77 By substituting “tradi-
tional” farming and manufacturing activities with improved agricultural
and industrial techniques, methods that would trigger an increase in
local people’s wealth, the Moros would, it was thought, not only
embrace American culture and governance but also the political notion
of instigating societal reform for the public good. Additionally, by get-
ting the Moros to embrace various matters associated with modernity,
just as Filipinos on other islands had done, the Americans would propel
them into the larger Philippine body, that is, a politico-cultural entity
they had long been separated from. In light of such governmental philo
sophy, it is unsurprising that the economic district in Parsons’ plan of
Zamboanga was to be found where a Moro village was located, namely,
a place where business was already transacted. Yet to fuel new economic
activity, a three-hundred-foot long pier was to be built so that large
boats could dock.78 To help develop the local economy, and by doing so
enable local people to acquire previously unimaginable income, it was
thought, the Protestant Anglo American traits of hard work and self-
discipline would aid in uplifting and civilizing the Moros. As Dipesh
Chakrabarty observes, in Western thinking, capital creation was seen to
possess an ability to unite people.79 In this conceptual framework, once
capitalism was to encounter a pre-modern and uncivilized society, “a
struggle ensues . . . in the course of which capital cancels out or neutral-

izes the contingent differences between specific histories.” In this way,
capitalism was to eradicate archaic and inefficient elements within soci-
ety, and in doing so, replace them with features of “advancement” as
part of the dawning of “Philippine modernity.”
Metaculture and Space in Mindanao

The Philippines, at the time that the Americans practiced modern
city planning for the first time in the colony, was a pluralistic society. To
help bring the population together, the Americans manufactured and
promoted a metaculture, “Philippine national culture,” through creation
of a school system, use of English, a new political structure linking local
and national offices together, the establishment of a national university,
national library, and national museum, and public spaces adorned with
statuary. Borne from the colonial governmental desire to culturally unite
disparate people, to draw more Filipinos into the framework of the
national economy, and to establish a sense of nationhood throughout
the Philippine Archipelago, the metaculture created post-1898 can be
comprehended in a number of different yet complementary ways. As an
“above culture,” one sitting over the apparently low levels of civilization
found in the provinces, the metaculture created by the Americans was
built with a political, cultural, and economic infrastructure so as to
make it functional and sustainable.80 As an above culture, it promoted
“cultural excellence” relative to the “low” customs, values, and behav-
iors that already existed.
In striving to create a modern Philippine state, the Americans ven-
tured to forge a culture uniformly accessible to all Filipinos. This meta-
culture, like any culture, had its own distinct traits. It also had its own
easily identifiable language, English, and an identity as endorsed by
heroes of the nation. This metaculture also had its own political ideo
logy and system, democracy, which through its local and national opera-
tions would present itself as working for the people given that the public
could elect their own representatives. Like any culture, it was learnable
and rational to those who created and diffused it: it promoted particular
social ideas, and by doing so sought to embolden all Filipinos to better
themselves. Crucially though, for any metaculture to become pervasive,
the local population has to accept it. Acceptance, evidently, can come in
many forms, for example, by the local population embracing new norms,
142 Chapter 5
values, and language on their own terms.81 In this manner, the popula-
tion assimilates culture “bottom-up.” An alternative recognition of new
customs, rituals, and so on, can be put upon the people through coer-
cion, by “top-down” mechanisms such as the education system, or the
enforced changing of behaviors so as to encourage, for instance, new
hygiene practices. Moreover, to be ubiquitous, any metaculture must not
only have its own distinct habits, norms, and so on, but more to the
point must also have its own durable customs, norms, and traditions,
which must be dynamic, pragmatic, and malleable.82 In this setting, as
shown throughout this volume, the reformation of Philippine urban
space was neither redundant nor impotent to the promotion of a process
instigating a new culture on top of what already existed in the Philip-
pines. Because, I argue, creating urban space was a fundamental of the
metaculture known by the early 1900s as Philippine national culture
because its establishment was inextricably tied to the presence of the
new colonial government in the regions. This culture was also closely
associated with the principles on which authority was based: new urban
environments laid out as a consequence of the use of urban planning
presented icons (in the form of statuary) and the attendance of demo-
cratic politics, for example.
On the production and meaning of space, Henri Lefebvre remarks
that it is vital to appreciate how it is perceived (l’espace perçu), con-
ceived (l’espace conçu), and lived (l’espace véçu), and to also grasp how
this triad results in the manufacture of representations of spaces as well
as the generation of spaces of representation.83 On the topics of percep-
tion and conception, Lefebvre highlights how space is a commodity, and
to this end he emphasizes the need to recognize how it is quantified
(divided, measured, and compared), and how in the age of capitalism
space becomes homogenized. The application of new space design in
this context, to the Philippines, according to Lefebvrian thought is
therefore part of the colonial state’s tactic of affirming national terri-
tory. For Foucault, and relevant to American colonial rule in Southeast
Asia, spatial ideology is tied inextricably to state management of the
population. Yet, as Lefebvre points out, space is both abstract and con-
crete: “abstract inasmuch as it has no existence save by virtue of the
exchangeability of all its component parts, and concrete inasmuch as it
is socially real and as such localized.”84 Accordingly, Lefebvre argues, it
is essential to discern how as a commodity it expresses value to society’s
evolution. In the view of Lukasz Stanek, this means applying the prin-
ciple that just as the value of a commodity is in part defined by its

exchange value in relation to other commodities, so “every ‘piece’ of
space is defined in relationship to all other such ‘pieces.’ This allows a
distinction between concrete and abstract features of space: while the
former are ‘absolute’ (localized, situated, specific for particular places,
and self-contained), the latter are relational, or ‘relative’ (stemming
from the connections among locations).”85
The importation of the City Beautiful model of urban design to the
Philippines established a new type of urban space design and a new type
of road layout. This urban form replaced the Spanish spatial logic as
characterized by grid plans, plaza majors, and lunetas. Instead, from
1905, symmetrical sometimes large green spaces anchored to nearby
capitol buildings, and boulevards radiating away environmentally char-
acterized the “modern Philippine city.” These new spaces not only show-
cased democracy and freedom from tyranny and theocratic rule and the
commencement of civic secular society, but through the placing of statu-
ary within them promoted Philippine patriotism rather than Catholi-
cism.86 The demonstration of liberation from Spanish colonial rule, a
fundamental of Philippine nationalism as it emerged in the 1890s, in this
milieu sanctioned the Americans through architecture and urban plan-
ning to show off basics of “modern Philippine society”: territory (com-
prising the entire Philippine Archipelago), government (of the people,
elected by the people), and unified citizenry (comprising all Filipinos)
who were with the guidance of the colonizers acquiring both the know
ledge and skill sets necessary for sovereignty in the future.87 Of great
importance, too, the Philippines by circa 1900 was no longer devoid of
technological advancement. Modern cities with their electric trams and
trains, their new levels of cleanliness brought about by sewers and clean
water systems, and so on being brought to the Philippines was a major
watershed: backward technologies stifling economic development and
holding down levels of civilization were to be swept away. In their place,
ethnographically, the “modern city” alongside public education and
political tutelage would show how the once child-like race of Filipinos
was evolving, in metaphorical terms, into an erect, proud man. The
“modern Philippine city” (as based on Daniel Burnham’s City Beautiful
paradigm) became a fundamental ploy, along with schools and political
training and the like, to building a new level of civilization.
In Zamboanga, although William E. Parsons’ urban plan was
about renewing the built environment through beautification, erecting
144 Chapter 5
new public and private edifices, establishing parks, and developing the
local economy, in pragmatic terms, the plan was also about permitting
the American colonial regime to extend the “national community” to a
geographical and cultural territory formerly outside the confines of
colonial rule. Involving the dialectical process of strengthening bound-
aries of inclusion, and weakening the boundaries that divided Filipinos,
a process reinforced where and when necessary by military campaigns
in Mindanao, the rooting of the US presence on the island as well as
throughout the Philippine Archipelago was to the colonizers a basic
condition for “lessons in civilization” being served, and without such
intervention the country would continue to exist in a debased state. The
nature of Filipino self-determination being marked out by the Ameri-
cans from the early 1900s through political loyalty to the nation and its
symbols, the local elites needed to acquire specific knowledge about
political institutions if they were within this conceptual setting to make
in the future a free, modern nation-state: first, they needed to compre-
hend the existence of a national community; second, they had to demon-
strate through behavior and language the existence of that national
community (as built by the American colonizers), such as by participat-
ing in national celebrations and commemorations; third, and relatedly,
they needed to develop and articulate consensus on the nation’s bound-
aries of inclusion. Within terms of this logic, the formation of Philippine
national identity would not only include a personal attachment to, and
an identification with the Filipino nation, but also presuppose what
being a Filipino was. Given this, the definition of the Filipino as a citizen
of the modern world would help define the “Filipino nation”: what it
was, what it is, and what it could become.
Capitols and Provincial Civic Centers

Between 1905 and 1916, much urban design activity took place in
the provinces of the Philippines.88 Such was the volume of City Beautiful
planning in the country that Thomas Hines remarked that its greatest
success was not on American soil “but on foreign colonial soil.”89 As the
larger municipalities by the early 1900s were turned by the Americans
into provincial capitals, and architectural planning developments in
these places coincided with the nationalist and imperial polemics of the
opening years of American administration, by about 1907–1908 (when
Parsons was designing the first batch of provincial capitol schemes), a
Filipino provincial and national politic had emerged.90 Among the first
of Parsons’ major capitol schemes was in 1908, for Santa Cruz, the hub
of wealthy Laguna Province. Said at the time of its construction to be
the “most modern” of provincial public buildings, its thirty-nine-meter
front elevation and two-story edifice had a dramatic impact on the local
cityscape. Built from reinforced concrete, with colonnades on all four
light pastel-colored facades, an overall lack of detailing, and a low
pitched roof, the Laguna provincial capitol building with its Spanish-
type aesthetic was designed as an architectural model to be followed in
the design and construction of other provincial public offices.91 The gen-
eral aesthetic, with its attention to the overall mass of the building and
in particular the relationship between openings and solids rather than
moldings and decoration, Winard Klassen notices, bore a striking resem-
blance to modern American architecture in California by Irving Gill.92
Yet whereas Gill was heavily influenced by Spanish-American architec-
ture, Parsons drew his inspiration from the Spanish-Philippine vernacu-
lar. As to why Parsons was so swayed by Spanish colonial traditions,
especially those in Manila, his personal archives at Yale University offer
no evidence and answer no questions. Therefore, it is likely that he was
affected by Daniel Burnham’s 1905 report for Manila, in which Ameri-
ca’s leading architect-planner outlined the advantages of Spanish archi-
tecture in the Philippines. Importantly, the Laguna capitol model was
exported across the Philippines, to Pasig and San Fernando, for exam-
ple, given the lack of public funds for architectural projects. In the words
of Michaelangelo Dakudao, standardization of public buildings at the
Figure 5.5. Plan by William E. Parsons for the new civic center in Cabanatuan,
Nueva Ecija. Source: Cameron, “Provincial Centers,” 4.
146 Chapter 5
beginning of the twentieth century “was deemed a necessary policy aris-

ing from economic realities.”93
This founding of the modern age in the Philippines has already
been noted with regard to the creation of grand plans for the Philippine
capital city and regional capital cities on Cebu Island and Mindanao. It
must also be noted for the development of new civic centers within the
capitals of the country’s provinces. Throughout the country before 1916,
such urban features were constructed as part of the colonial govern-
ment’s campaign to build infrastructure that centralized important
buildings, institutions, and spaces.94 In Cabanatuan (Nueva Ecija Prov-
ince, Luzon), for example, a site of 410 by 400 meters (449 by 438 yards)
was selected in 1912 to house a capitol and five other public buildings,
along with a new public plaza, park, and sports facilities (see figure 5.5).
In Malolos (Pampagna Province, Luzon) a similar scheme was proposed
in the same year. As Cameron summarized it in 1914, these two new
civic districts were “logical and convenient” and deliberately situated
away from business districts so that noise and dust would be mini-
mized.95 As Parsons himself explained with reference to Philippine civic
districts, symmetrical spaces, classically inspired buildings, and foliage
were the heart of the “modern Philippine city.” Buildings, he remarked,
must be dignified in appearance and have open space about them.96
Such open areas were to comprise “well-kept lawns with shade trees and
blossoming plants” and “ought to set a good example in the way of
beautifying the streets and plazas of the municipalities.”97
Chapter 2 remarked on the structure of colonial government and
the nurturing of political collaboration between Americans and the Fili-
pino elites. To deepen knowledge of how this relationship worked before
passage of the Philippine Autonomy Act in 1916, and in turn to help
deepen explication of the American process of exporting urban design
across the Philippines, it is once again necessary to reiterate that munici-
pal councils functioned as extensions of the central government. There-
fore, given the construction of the colonial governmental system, for
municipal administrations to be effective there not only had to be links
between Americans and Filipinos but an alliance too between different
Filipino groups. Hence, just as local elites could draw on the custom
utang na loob (debt of affection) to win loyalty from the lower social
classes, in turn they had to demonstrate as a rule that government oper-
ations in the provinces were “uplifting” local life. In this context, the
local government system worked so that the masses could have an ele-
vated quality of life, in part by knowing and maintaining their civil

rights.98 Because Filipinos in governmental posts were supervised by the
Americans, it was inescapable that the elites’ capacity for self-rule was
being put on trial. “Practical political education” was based on tutoring
within and outside governmental offices.
To fortify the government’s aspiration of “uplifting” and “civiliz-
ing” Philippine society, it was necessary for the Philippine Commission
to not only initiate a governmental system founded on principles dis-
tinct from those practiced during the Spanish era, but also warrant
buildings in which government offices could be housed. Many Spanish-
era public buildings were unusable given the nature or size of the Amer-
ican bureaucracy under the Municipal Code. Buildings in which
bureaucrats could efficiently work were crucial to the political effort
necessary to modernize the Philippines.99 Because the interaction
between Filipino provincial and urban elites tended to be confined to
specific regions, and interaction between the elites often exhibited dis-
tinct regional attributes, if the Americans as they claimed wished to
bring “progress” to the provinces, they could not avoid the need to erect
public edifices throughout the Philippine Archipelago. The role of Wil-
liam E. Parsons, the Beaux Arts–educated consulting architect, was to
this end decisive. But, before we return to the issue of urban planning,
the structure of colonial government and the nurturing of political col-
laboration between the Americans and Filipinos requires additional
explication.
Gerald Burns in Presenting America, Encountering the Philippines
states that Americans have consistently viewed themselves as an excep-
tional people, “charged with a special mission and destiny among the
nations of the world.”100 Thus, as an altruistic venture, America’s
responsibility to reform the Philippines relied heavily on the capacity of
the colonial government to reach out into the provinces so that “prog-
ress” could manifest itself. With the formation of civil government after
passage of the Organic Act of 1902, the American capacity to adminis-
ter law, order, economic and social development throughout the Philip-
pines was built around a governmental structure in which local,
regional, and national offices were connected with each other. This sys-
tem, Romeo Cruz explains, was devised in accord with what the Amer-
icans envisioned was the need of the Philippines at that time.101 Notably,
Cruz adds, the system, and thus its staff, was so formed “because Amer-
ica wanted to upstage other imperialists in the Pacific and show the
148 Chapter 5
world how a democracy like hers could properly implement the idea of
stewardship.”102
However, as Benedict Anderson explains, the American ability to
steward Filipinos was affected by the pre-1898 political situation, par-
ticularly the rise of the Spanish-speaking ilustrados during the second
half of the nineteenth century. Even though, at face value, the political
upheaval of 1898 radically altered the nature of Philippine society, it
also enhanced the economic and social status of the ilustrados given
they were, to be blunt, the only educated Filipinos at that time, and so
the only Filipinos the Americans could work with in terms of local and
national governance. So that democratic values could be exported
throughout the Philippines, political reform instigated by the Americans
created, to cite Anderson, was consequently “a solid, visible national
oligarchy.” In his opinion, the key construct to the emergence of the new
Filipino political elite post-1898 was not only the American willingness
to cooperate with educated Filipinos but the establishment of a legisla-
ture in which, in the lower house, seats were filled by individuals repre-
senting provincial constituencies selected in a winner-take-all election
process. This, in his view, consolidated the social position of the large
land owners in the regions: “The new representational system proved
perfectly adapted to the ambitions and social geography of the mestizo
nouveaux riches. . . . And their provincial fiefdoms were also protected
by the country’s immense linguistic diversity.”103
When considering the evolution of the Filipino elite during the
early 1900s, it is important to not downplay the matter of the colo-
nial civil service being established with, initially, almost half of its
5,500 employees being Filipino. In the Philippines, unlike elsewhere in
Southeast Asia (under regimes operating with dense, autocratic, white-
run bureaucracies), once assured of the loyalty of the ilustrados and
local and provincial elites to the nation, the Americans established a
bureaucracy whereby most of its component positions were to be turned
over to the natives. This political structural framework is neatly summed
up by Alleyne Ireland:
The American believes that every race of man in every climate can be-
come in time a creature of schools, ballot boxes, and free political insti-
tutions. That is more than a political opinion bred in the school of
experience; it is more than a political conviction born with the birth of
the Nation; it is a spiritual faith.104
Under such a framework, for the American colonial governmental to

reach out into the provinces, and so in theory bring “advancement” to
all regions of the Philippines, what was needed was the proliferation of
provincial and municipal offices (seats of government). In 1898, when
the Americans first assumed governmental control of the Philippines,
such offices and buildings required for democratic government did not
exist.105 So, in pragmatic terms, to house new government offices and to
ensure those offices had an impact on civil life in the provinces, the
Americans needed to construct new public buildings. Such a situation
was bolstered by the poor condition of many buildings used by the
Spanish for colonial government outside Manila.106
The only comprehensive overview of architectural and planning
developments in the provinces of the Philippines in the early 1900s is
Cameron’s article “Provincial Centers in the Philippine Islands.” Pub-
lished in 1914, the article refers to the attitude and work of William
E. Parsons: “Buildings of provincial governments, like those of any
architectural composition, should be arranged in a logical and conve-
nient scheme. The order and system which exists in the form of provin-
cial government should prevail and find expression in an orderly plan
for grouping buildings.”107
Under American colonial administration, the Philippines was
divided into the Moro Province and thirty-one Christian provinces,
“each with its own provincial capital center and the necessary buildings
for the provincial administration.” In terms of their design, Cameron
outlined the fundamentals of American civic centers in the Philippines as
follows:
• They were sited away from heavily populated districts.

• They would not, for practical and aesthetic reasons, be in proximity
to business quarters.
• Public buildings must be situated within parks so as to be in posi-
tions of dignity and retirement, and away from the noise and dust of
roadways. Setting buildings back within open spaces was justifiable
on aesthetic grounds as well as for safety: the risk of fire spreading
from neighboring buildings.
• The park space about capitols must comprise well-kept lawns, blos-
soming plants, and shade trees.108
150 Chapter 5
Of the Capitols before and circa 1916 in the Philippines, the stand-out
scheme in terms of planning arrangement was in Lingayen, Pangasinan
Province.109 As the model for plans implemented in the provinces of Albay,
Bulacan, Iloilo, Laguna, Leyte, Nueva Ecija, Pampagna, Rizal, Tarlac, and
Tayabas, the Lingayen scheme was “the largest and most complete of any
yet designed.”110 Replacing the government office erected in 1885, the
twenty-five-hectare (sixty-two-acre) site for the Lingayen capitol was at
the urban periphery close to the beach, at the northern end of the city, and
would house the concrete-built capitol, jail, storehouse, two schools, the
courthouse plus the homes of the province’s governor and treasurer. A
budget of ₱500,000 was requested to implement the entire scheme, which
was by the early 1920s completed. As the most monumental civic center
project outside of Manila and Baguio, it gave “the Philippines Islands a
provincial center that the projectors may well be proud of, one that should
serve as a model for civic improvements in the municipalities of this and
other provinces.”111 With its symmetrical plaza to the front of the princi-
pal (south-facing) elevation of the Capitol, and the space’s midpoint
marked by a statue, the new civic core was to redirect the urban fabric of
Lingayen away from the Spanish era plaza and its church (figure 5.6).
Three diagonal roads radiated away from the Capitol plaza, creating
monumental vistas for the new civic district. Today, where the statue was
intended to stand is a flag pole where the national flag flies (figure 5.7).
Figure 5.6. View from the plaza at the front of the capitol to Governor Aguedo F.
Agbayani Park and Maramba Boulevard. Source: Author.
Figure 5.7. Front Elevation of the capitol in Lingayen. Source: Author.
Of the three roadways running out from the civic core in Lin-
gayen, one—positioned directly in front of the center of the Capi-
tol’s main elevation—tied the new district to the existing built
environment of the city. Today known as Maramba Boulevard, the
more than one kilometer roadway joins the civic district to roads
and buildings near to Basing River, that is, urban features dating
from before 1898. Shifting, as did Parson’s plan for Cebu, the
entire balance of the city away from Spanish colonial architectural
and spatial features meant reorienting Lingayen northward away
from the Plaza de Lingayen and Lingayen Church toward Lingayen
Gulf. The new capitol district was thus a stage demonstrating the
arrival of the modern age in Pangasinan Province. The symmetry of
the buildings, spaces, and roads was also evident in other capitol
projects in the Philippines, particularly after 1916. What the Lin-
gayen Capitol district demonstrated uniquely was Parsons’ talent
for civic design—the purposeful association of a new, large public
152 Chapter 5
building with its surroundings with pleasing effect and harmonious

accord.
In other provincial capitals, similar new public buildings, spaces,
statuary, and roads were also developed, special attention being given in
the planning process to bringing these features into a balanced corre-
spondence. In Cabanatuan, the capital of Nueva Ejica Province, by 1914
a new civic district was approved by the BPW.112 Situated about one
kilometer from the business core of the city, the district’s new build-
ings—capitol, jail, high school, and storehouse—not only introduced a
new building material, reinforced concrete, to the city but also presented
a new environmental standard. Designed collectively as “a delightful
appearing center,” the new spaces, roads, and buildings reinforced onto
Cabanatuan’s layout the value of symmetry so that particular urban ele-
ments were highly visible within the evolving urban form.113 Given that
the civic district’s two primary edifices, the Capitol and school, had their
fronts marked by semicircular driveways, and their axis corresponded
to the layout of nearby garden spaces, the generic symmetrical form of
the plan encouraged views toward the buildings and architectural struc-
tures such as the bandstand, it being sited in the central open space
(positioned between Calle del Pilar and Calle Burgos to the north and
south) at their front.114 Additional landscaped gardens situated to the
west and east of the bandstand, the district offered a contrast to the
existing built fabric. In this context, as with Parsons’ work in other pro-
vincial settlements, modern city planning in the Philippines was about
establishing built environments in which the position, configuration,
and appearance of different urban features affected the placement of the
other.
Before the BPW was established, capitol buildings were con-
structed from wood. In Malolos, Bulacan Province, the one-story capi-
tol, erected in 1904, was built from Oregon wood and sited within open
space two kilometers from the existing business core.115 Situated with
an unencumbered, suburban site that was in Cameron’s words “capable
of expansion,” by 1914 a complete street system had been laid out
about the area, as had school buildings, a small number of houses, and
large numbers of trees.116 “Altogether a rather attractive parking system
has been developed.”117 Similar to the Capitols of Capiz and Iliolo Prov-
inces, open spaces and parks were valuable to establishing a new city
appearance. In Iloilo, for example, Parsons approved a park plan about
the residence of the Spanish colonial-era provincial governor, a building
reconstructed in the early 1900s to meet American government needs

on the island of Panay. In Capiz City, Capiz Province, a swamp was
drained and transformed into lawns, walks, and tennis courts.118 Tennis
courts were also, for instance, laid out close to the Capitol of Zambales
Province.
The value of green space was also evident in the civic centers Par-
sons recommended for Rizal Province and Tarlac Province. Built on a
hilltop and with three hectares of space about it, the Tarlac capitol was
said to be the most commanding in the country. The visual quality of the
building was enhanced by the development of open space in proximity
to it: “The parking work carried on is extremely effective and the whole
combination is beautiful to look upon.”119 In Rizal Province, the grounds
of the Capitol were also landscaped. This helped hide a nearby shed
belonging to the Manila Electric Railroad but also used the opportunity
to beautify an asymmetrical site bordered by the Pasig River. This was
the Philippines’ first reinforced concrete government office, a building
marking a distinct era in the policy governing provincial capitol design,
newly planted hedges and trees forming a “river wall” that ran parallel
to the line of the Pasig River.
To conclude, during the early 1900s, the Americans under the
direction of the Bureau of Public Works and the guidance of William
E. Parsons set about establishing new, large civic cores in numerous
Philippine cities. Although not all provincial capital cities were subject
to large-scale architectural and planning schemes, by the end of the early
period of American colonial rule the change in character of many urban
environments since 1898 was apparent. Parsons’ vision for the planning
of capitol surroundings and for restructuring regional capital cities led
by 1916 to the proliferation of symmetrical park districts at the urban
fringe of many cities.120 By establishing districts with ordered collections
of public edifices, architectural features such as bandstands or statues,
and green spaces frequently lined by rows of trees, Parsons not only
facilitated Philippine settlements to acquire an urban morphology and
appearance different to that of pre-1898 but also, by applying a new
urban design system based on that practiced in the United States, per-
mitted them to be analogous in appearance and plan with other “mod-
ern places” (specifically, those in North America). Furthermore by
standardizing the construction and design of capitols and their sur-
roundings, in part to maximize resources allotted to infrastructure
development, cities throughout the Philippines evolved with civic cores
154 Chapter 5
of similar visual and spatial form. In visual terms, to reiterate, societal

evolution affected public architecture not only through Parsons’ intro-
ducing concrete as the material of choice for construction but also
through facade design being handled strictly in accord with the classical
notion of scale and proportion. Limited detailing on main elevations
and symmetrical design so as to emphasize a central vertical axis, a basic
interplay of solid and void was evident in the form of—for example—
recessed main entrances and recessed window openings. Rendering the
spatial model derived from Spain’s 1573 Law of the Indies as outmoded,
commonly the central axis of the main elevation of public edifices
extended outward into the surroundings and was marked by an archi-
tectural feature of some significance. In connecting the building’s central
axis to its setting, and sometimes carrying this association for large dis-
tances to new roads to and from the civic core, the Philippine urban
form was redefined. This redefinition bestowed a new quality or set of
qualities on the Philippine built environment.
Contemporary classically inspired city hall architecture in the
United States would be elevated from the level of the ground by steps at
the front of the building and design emphasis given to both the central
and end sections of the primary facades, such as through the use of rus-
ticated stone work, larger window openings, stone detailing, and so on.
In the Philippines, by contrast, Parsons’ design for main elevations was
simplistic. To the eye, given their lack of detailing, some of Parsons’ cap-
itols might have appeared somewhat uninteresting. By way of illustra-
tion, it was unusual for capitols to have their ground floor level raised
above the ground and for a large number of steps to be placed in front
of the main entrance. Capitols in Albay (Albay Province), Balanga
(Bataan Province), and provinces such as Bohol, Capiz, Pasig, Surigao,
to name a few, basically had their ground floors at the same level as the
street even though principal rooms in the interior arrangement were to
be found on the upper levels. Rarely would the building line be brought
forward at the middle of the front elevation, one exception being in
Albay. It was also unusual for Parsons to emphasize the central axis of
the front elevation with a feature such as a clock tower. Vertical ele-
ments were rarely used for provincial capitols. Instead, to draw the eye
to the center of the main facade—it being marked by the main entrance
at the ground level—features such as small balconies (on the upper-floor
level) or a slight change in the roofline might be used. Bands of rusti-
cated stone were, however, applied to the central section and ends of
front elevations in Albay, Nueva Caceres (Ambos Camarines Province),

and Batangas, for instance.
As a model for provincial capitol environments, Lingayen embod-
ied what the American colonial urban planning ideal was for provincial
capitals.121 Set in a spacious landscape with walkways leading to or
from particular parts of the building, such as its main entrance and side
elevations, the environment was to be a model to replicate elsewhere.
Ideally, as Parsons suggested, the district in Lingayen and similar ones
elsewhere were to provoke municipal and regional councils to beautify
other parts of the urban environment. State architecture and public
space were tangible symbols of the American colonial-era’s civic and
secular precedence, to be inherent symbols of flourishing Philippine
identity and pride. In Lingayen, for example, the Capitol and its sur-
roundings were to promote not only awareness of the city belonging to
the national political and cultural body, but also Pangasinese self-
identity. The newly created impressive edifice and dignified surroundings
served as a rallying point to glorify the people of Pangasinan Province
and, in turn, their achievements.
Julian Dacanay remarks that, architecturally, the period from 1900
to 1920 in the Philippines mirrored design mannerisms popular in
Europe and the United States.122 Certainly in regard to civic construc-
tion, the influence of the City Beautiful paradigm was apparent within
Manila and many provincial capitals. Its use, an articulation of the
requirements of the American colonial government, thanks to the
schemes composed by Daniel Burnham and William E. Parsons empha-
sized the value of developing new civic districts. Their comprehensive
plans, for reasons shown, entailed far more than hasty decisions as to
what materials public edifices should be constructed from and where
those buildings should be sited. Setting down cityscape examples
throughout the country consisting of new street systems, parks and lei-
sure spaces, port and waterfront developments, and new civic centers,
the two architect-planners even after passage of the Philippine Auton-
omy Act in August 1916 (also known as the Jones Law), the decree that
formally established the Filipinzation of the colonial civil service, meant
that the nature of the “modern Philippine city” was largely defined by
buildings and spaces formed in accordance with Beaux Arts princi-
ples.123 Such was Burnham’s and Parsons’ impact that classical architec-
ture and spatial arranging continued into the 1930s in the Philippines,
carried out by Filipino architects in the BPW trained in the United States.
156 Chapter 5
Under the Pensionados Program (established in 1903 by Act No. 854),

Filipinos from the Spanish-speaking classes were able to go to North
America to receive higher education and “lessons in civilization.”
Returning to the Philippines from about 1910 onward, many of these
individuals found work within the BPW, albeit at first in the lower ranks,
but by 1919 at the very highest echelons within the office. Consequently,
understanding the history of the City Beautiful in the Philippines both
before and after 1916 is essential. This effort will yield, for the first time,
a detailed narrative of the rise of Filipino architects and planners within
colonial bureaucracy, and schemes by individuals such as Juan Arellano
for Manila and Iloilo will be better appreciated. This book is part of a
larger Philippine urban planning history project. Because concrete capi-
tols and their symmetrical surroundings continued to be built until the
1930s, it is vital that these public spaces and edifices are understood as
agents accentuating Filipino identity. If this is not reasonably common
knowledge, their value to heritage conservation will not be fully appre-
ciated. For it is not only capitols but also their surroundings that supply
reference to the American attempts from 1905 to alter cityscape traits
within the Philippines, and in doing so build the bond between human-
made constructions and their environmental setting.
Chapter 6
Conclusion
“The Philippines were ours by fortunes of war. They were ours by

payment of a fair purchase price to their former owner, after the
arbitrament of a war for humanity had left them in our keeping.
Now we must show to the Filipinos, and to the nations of the earth,
that our humanitarian claims were something more than empty.”
T
he period from 1898 to 1916 saw the introduction of
modern city planning in the Philippines and its prolifer-
ation after Daniel Burnham introduced the City Beauti-
ful paradigm to Manila in 1905. This propagation included, as explained
in chapters 4 and 5, a number of monumental city plans in the provinces
and new civic centers in many capitals of the “Christian provinces.” On
a par in terms of volume with urban planning in the United States in the
opening years of the twentieth century, by 1916 the environmental char-
acter of the Philippine city contrasted with what it had been at the end
of the Spanish Empire in 1898. No more did the large-sized urban settle-
ments focus on plaza mayors. In addition, the new Philippine urban
form, as based on Burnham’s Manila exemplar, was believed by the
American colonial administration to help promote the modernization of
local society and the development of Philippine nationhood. As dis-
cussed, city planning was not only an articulation of the US imperial
mission in Southeast Asia but also—alongside economic development,
reform of the political system, education development, use of English,
public health reform, road building, and so on—a fundamental way to
augment life in the Philippines as well as the physical and abstract con-
nections between people living in the Philippine Archipelago. Conse-
quently, when focusing on the methods through which the Americans
after 1898 intended to unify Filipinos, city planning must be given due
attention. It, as this work has explained, had a vital role in helping pro-
duce a modern republic nation-state, albeit one based on the American
invention of an ideal type of Filipino citizen.
157
158 Chapter 6
The study has explained the historical setting into which city plan-
ning was set during the early 1900s in the Philippines. The decision to
analyze and, in unison, explicate the evolving appearance and structure
of Philippine cities in relation to colonial politics during what was an
important epoch in the nation’s history is an original step in recontextu-
alizing the planning history of the country. Furthermore, the decision to
analyze the promotion of Philippine nationalism and citizenry during a
key period in the country’s history will help shift scholarship on the
plans of Philippine cities toward some of the core ideas of both Ameri-
can colonial governance and spatial arranging. It is also an important
historiographical step in presenting a topic so far dominated by Daniel
Burnham and his 1905 plan for Manila. As this work has shown, the
urban planning narrative of the Philippines in the opening decades of
the twentieth century was much broader than one person or one plan:
much urban planning between 1905 and 1916 took place outside of
Manila, and not by Daniel Burnham.
The study has covered the relatively brief period from 1898 to
1916. As to why the investigation has the end date of 1916, the passage
of the Philippine Autonomy Act that year is significant. Also known as
the Jones Law or the Jones Act, the act gave legislative authority and
responsibility to the Filipinos for the first time: “Only the veto power
under the setup and the appointment of non-Christian representatives
were in American hands.”1 The act also granted the formal promise
(from the Americans) of Philippine independence in the future.2 So that
the Filipinos could assume responsibility for governance under the pro-
visions of the act, Filipinization of the colonial civil service proceeded
apace. Consequently, by 1921, just a few years after passage of the act,
many executive bureaus were headed by Filipinos, including the BPW.3
In the words of Maximo Kalaw, Filipinos in the years following 1916
“have demonstrated that they are wholly capable of playing their part in
the conduct of their affairs with skill, dignity, firmness, and above all,
with unswerving loyalty to the ideals of their country.” Transitions and
governmental change after 1916, he continues, “brought to the Filipino
people a sense of unity and have turned out a well-educated citizenry
worthy of their race.”4
With passage of the Philippine Autonomy Act, Filipinos who had
once held minor civil service positions were after 1916 occupying the
highest posts in many government offices. The Bureau of Public Works
by as early as 1919 had come under full control of Filipinos: they held
Conclusion 159
the highest positions and were designing the country’s most important
public architectural and planning projects. Yet, because they had been
educated in the United States under the Pensionados Program, these
largely East Coast– and Beaux Arts–educated individuals continued the
grand classical spatial arrangements originally brought to the Philip-
pines by Daniel Burnham in 1905 and propagated after that by William
E. Parsons.5 Nevertheless, in reference to the 1898 to 1916 period, sev-
eral matters need to be clarified, given the evolution of society in the
Philippines and the country’s finding its place in the modern world at
that time. First, the Spanish-American War put the Philippines into a
new world historical setting. Once on the periphery of the Spanish
Empire, the Philippines sat at the center of American imperialism after
the events of 1898. The Philippines was the first US attempt at govern-
ing an Asian society. Second, and relatedly, the Philippines as a society
after 1898 became more located within a modern, global setting tied to
the Americas as well as an actor of growing standing on the interna-
tional scene (in the Asia-Pacific context). Third, in regard to urban
design, the positioning of Philippine society alongside the United States
meant that it, as Robert Freestone notes, became a locale central to the
internationalization of the City Beautiful urban planning model.6 It is
impossible to not think of the civic splendor of cities in the United States
from the 1890s without appreciating that from 1905 onward Philippine
cities were developing along the same lines in terms of civic spirit and
visual-environmental form. Fourth, in terms of the global reach of the
City Beautiful, the flow of modern city planning from the North Ameri-
can continent to Southeast Asia is central to its narrative. The volume of
urban planning practice in the Philippines in the ten years or so after
1905 cannot be ignored. Furthermore, if the City Beautiful in the United
States was about forming green spaces and laying out civic centers and
boulevards, it left a deep imprint in the Philippines in the years leading
up to 1916. The redrawing of the urban form in the Philippines did
more than beautify existing towns and cities; it also helped the coloniz-
ers promote their governmental ambitions. To paraphrase David Brody,
the urban vision brought to the Philippines by Daniel Burnham abetted
social and economic transformation within the United States’ colonial
outpost in Asia. Reflecting American ingenuity, the “modern Philippine
city” as spatially and visually modeled on Burnham’s City Beautiful
concept would, for instance, allow trade to prosper and American cul-
ture, democracy, and the rule of law to flourish in the colony. Quite
160 Chapter 6
simply, the restructuring of the Philippine urban environment would

help instill advancement within a society, judged by the Americans at
the very end of the nineteenth century as basically devoid of civiliza-
tion.7 Manila, as Daniel Williams puts it, thanks to the application of
modern city planning, “was transformed from one of the plague spots
of the Far East to a condition comparing favorably with any of the cities
of the States.”8
Governmental Transition and Identity Change

The era from 1898 to 1916, then, was one of great political, eco-
nomic, social, and environmental transition in the Philippines, not least
in urban design. A monumental plan for Manila was proposed (and
implemented), and a new city, Baguio, was also planned (and built).
Then, in the regions, comprehensive plans for the Capitols of Cebu and
Zamboanga were tendered, plus plans were created for the sites and
surroundings of provincial capitols. Significantly, though, environmen-
tal reform was not only physical but also conceptual: the introduction
of City Beautiful planning was an agent helping impart “development”
on a people perceived by the Americans as uncivilized and bereft of
“modern mores” in 1898— a population in need of, in the words of
President McKinley’s Benevolent Assimilation Proclamation, uplifting
and civilizing.9
Under American colonial rule, a number of governmental strate-
gies were formed so that, in accordance with McKinley’s notion of
benevolent assimilation, “progress” could be imparted to Filipinos. His-
toriography, traditionally, has focused on the process of Philippine soci-
etal “advancement” between 1898 and 1916 by examining the
development of the school system, and the proliferation of English lan-
guage, improvements in public health, and economic and political
reform. In comparison, far less attention has been placed on the restruc-
turing of urban environments, even though by as early as 1901 politi-
cians in the United States were debating the need to restructure Manila’s
urban environment. Evidently, when in late 1904 Burnham traveled to
the Philippines, and in mid-1905 submitted to the War Department his
plan for Manila, a new urban design model was activated in the country.
As discussed in chapter 5, the planning model for Manila was continued
in the provinces. Responsible for this was William E. Parsons, an indi-
vidual frequently overlooked in urban historiography.
Conclusion 161
This work has provided an opportunity not only to identify the

nature of urban plans created for Philippine cities during the early
period of American colonial rule, but also to identify the influences on
built environment. Between 1898 and 1916, the colonial government
sought to acquire a rational control of the Philippine urban environ-
ment initially to pacify the local population and improve public health,
but by 1905 to help beautify cities, develop local economies, and pres-
ent the new civil governmental system. Among the factors noted to
have affected the development of the modern Philippine urban form
was the establishment, by the Americans, of Philippine nationalism.
With the production of new urban spaces, Philippine cities were reori-
ented toward new open areas, nearby public edifices, and statues to
national heroes around which new civil ceremonies took place. This
visual and spatial redirection occurred at the expense of Spanish-era
plazas and churches and was important to the American desire to dem-
onstrate the commencement of the “modern age” in the Philippines.
This process needs to be recognized as America’s deliberately seeking to
move Filipinos away from activities and ideas that scientific rationality,
democratic politics, and modern health and aesthetics found disturb-
ing. Of note as well, the change in the form of urban environments
after 1898 should stand as a creative reminder that Philippine romantic
nationalism is not a postcolonial construct: rather, it has origins in the
American instigation of benevolent assimilation. This historical fact
should also serve as a reminder that the propagation of public spaces
and government offices throughout the Philippine Archipelago was in
part, on one hand, an expression of American propaganda to demon-
strate the strength, stability, and reach of the colonial administration
and, on the other, to help proliferate about the country a metaculture,
“Philippine national culture,” and alongside it the cultivation of civic
liberalism. As noted, the American colonial administration used public
space to help forge social kinship among peoples until then kept apart
on social, racial, and linguistic grounds. The restructuring of Philippine
culture, politics, national economy, and built fabrics must in this setting
be viewed as elemental components in the US quest to engineer Philip-
pine society to a new state of existence in which, significantly, a secular
civic vision was paramount. This vision entailed deconstructing Cathol-
icism’s spatial logics, especially the influence of the religious orders that
were the great urbanizers and designers before 1898, whose urban
vision grounded the construction of churches and plazas that the
162 Chapter 6
mericans were undermining in importing the City Beautiful model,

A
hence the shift in morphology and meaning to Philippine cities before
and after 1898.
As the bearers of Enlightenment rationalism, the Americans in
their quest to propagate “development” in the Philippine Archipelago
not only reconstituted the meaning of Philippine nationhood but also
sent a critical message to the local population: cultural, social, and eco-
nomic progress is measurable through the colonized population’s grow-
ing share in public life. The Filipinos were thus not shy at learning the
art of participation in the public sphere—for example, as politicians,
civil servants, teachers, and the like—to exhibit their modernizing char-
acter. They no doubt understood, in this context, that all governments
have limited intelligence, and that “their principles of distributive jus-
tice require simple, homogeneous, sharply delineated identities.”10
Thus, in looking back at the Philippines between 1898 and 1916, it
becomes clear that America redefined ethnic identity in an attempt to
encourage Filipinos to profess, within the context of participation in a
new political order, a more one-dimensional identity that, if nothing
else, disregarded existing heterogeneity and diversity in Filipino cul-
tural practices. As shown in chapter 2, the rise of an American-pro-
moted Philippine national consciousness demonstrated, as far as the
colonizers were concerned, a desire to expose after 1898 “advance-
ment” within society. American colonial governance, modern civiliza-
tion, societal evolution, and Philippine nationhood going hand in hand,
in 1898 identities in the Philippine Archipelago were grounded in par-
ticular territories characterized by particular languages and social prac-
tices and kinships; after 1898, under the pressure of democratic political
representation, Filipinos were under pressure to profess a new identity,
that of being a Filipino. This alteration in people’s understanding of self
was fortified by the creation of new public institutions and urban spaces
where new “invented traditions” of being Filipino could take place.
Foreign city planning developments, such as the American City
Beautiful movement, which promoted classical architecture and sym-
metrical planning lines at often large spatial scales, were observed to be
highly influential on urban design in numerous Philippine cities before
1916. Without that influence, the urban form in Manila, Baguio, Cebu,
Zamboanga, and other cities by the early 1900s would have been radi-
cally different. The nature of the City Beautiful brought to the Philip-
pines was pure: its origins in the country heralded from arguably the
Conclusion 163
City Beautiful movement’s greatest practitioner and theorist, Daniel

Burnham. Following his plans for Manila and Baguio meant that key
characteristics of the movement were maintained for the design and
renewal of urban environments in the Philippine provinces. The integ-
rity of Burnham’s City Beautiful model owes much to the first consul-
tant architect in the BPW, William E. Parsons, whose faithfulness to
Burnham’s original plans meant they were not only implemented to a
large degree in the form originally intended, but they in their own right
became exemplars to be replicated in turn, albeit on smaller spatial
scales, such as the design of capitols and their surroundings. As Daniel
Doeppers observes, a signature of the American presence in the Philip-
pines was the new striking appearance of Manila.11 A broader signature
of the American presence in the Philippines was the striking, new appear-
ance of all regional and provincial capital cities. To side step for a
moment but to nonetheless highlight two important points, the appear-
ance and urban layouts constructed by the Americans before 1916 still
exist. For this reason, first, should anyone wish to see and comprehend
Burnhamian city planning practice, the Philippines, Chicago, and
Washington, DC, should be an imperative of any study. Second, the exis-
tence of such historically important urban layouts poses questions about
the management and preservation of built heritage in the Philippines.
Such an issue has come to a head given, for example, the development of
the Torre de Manila near Rizal Park in Manila, and proposals by the
municipal government in Baguio to convert sections of Burnham Park
into car parks.
The City Beautiful urban plan implemented in the Philippines
before 1916 was made up of a number of fundamental architectural and
spatial elements. The creation of parks and other urban spaces, the
widespread planting of foliage, the laying down of new roadways, the
development of riverbanks or seafronts, and the construction of new
public buildings collectively aimed to revive the economic, environmen-
tal, and cultural condition of Philippine cities. In the broadest sense,
City Beautiful planning contributed in a host of ways to the enriching of
urban civilization in the country. The new urban spaces, for instance,
not only encouraged the American and Filipino populations to frater-
nize, but also provided new sites for people to recognize new standards
of beauty within their cities. These open areas, where people were able
to bond and share experiences about their lives as Filipinos, help indi-
cate how the Americans ventured to reshape the Philippine urban
164 Chapter 6
e nvironment (in physical and metaphorical terms) to remold the lives of

people in the Philippine Archipelago.
Examination of Philippine cities between 1898 and 1916 revealed
that renewing urban environments along City Beautiful lines did not
necessarily mean restructuring central districts. American colonial urban
design in the provinces, at least, was about developing suburban green-
field sites for capitols and then linking them with boulevards or vistas to
the existing urban form. Streets and spaces from the Spanish colonial
era were left untouched. For this reason, what was clear about urban
environmental development in the Philippines by 1916 was that, relative
to 1898, how urban places looked very different at their urban fringe.
By 1916, in the provincial capitals, as well as in Cebu, Baguio, and
Manila, a new network or roads and green spaces had been established,
anchored to the downtown by grand planning alignments to the princi-
pal facade of the city’s new and most important public edifice. Directing
Philippine cities visually and morphologically away from their plaza
mayors, central churches, and lunetas, the American approach to city
planning in the Philippines was grounded in forming new, symmetrically
arranged districts toward the urban boundary. One exception was the
capital city of Manila, where as part of the 1905 city plan, Bagumbayan
Field (between the Intramuros and the suburban district of Ermita), was
developed into the new governmental core.
The Disposition of Urban Planning before 1916

In regard to the emergent character of modern city planning in
the Philippines between 1898 and 1916, the following results were
recognized:
• Urban design in the Philippines, like that in the United States, was
highly systemized. Layouts of buildings and spaces demonstrated
widespread use of symmetry. Public spaces appeared standardized in
terms of layout and appearance: they were usually greened with
lawns, had their perimeters marked by a line (or double line) of trees,
and sites tended to be rectangular in form. The inspiration for these
characteristics was the Mall in Washington, DC. Standardized eleva-
tional design for public architecture was also notable. This situation,
at least in the provinces, was a consequence of two major factors: an
initial lack of funds for building projects and the design logic of
Conclusion 165
illiam E. Parsons—Parsons adhered to the modernist concept that

W
in architecture “form follows function.” In reference to building
materials, Parsons played a great role in popularizing the use of con-
crete for public buildings. Of potential influence also on the design of
new urban spaces and buildings was the desire of the Philippine
Commission to universalize the “Filipino nation” by promoting a
new visual and spatial vernacular throughout all of the country, one
with standardized characteristics. Filipinos would be reminded, as
they traveled from region to region, that they belong to a single, uni-
fied territory—a nation called the Philippines.
• Planning projects when proposed were always implemented. No evi-
dence was found for proposed schemes not being undertaken, though
the lag between the submission of a plan and its completion could be
many years. Cebu and Manila, for example, took decades to com-
plete. However, in the case of the 1905 Manila plan, it was evident
once implementation of the scheme began that it would take a long
time to complete given the large amounts of money required, the
large volume of edifices and spaces to be constructed, the complexity
of issues relating to land rights, and the bureaucracy involved.
• Regardless of new public buildings, statues, and spaces being laid out
at the urban periphery, such spaces were always designed to be acces-
sible and visible. The importance of vista encouraged persons of dif-
ferent ethnic and social backgrounds to freely see public offices oper-
ating for their benefit. In this regard, beautiful urban settings
corresponded with the contemporary notion in the United States that
social religion could be generated; that is, people could by interact-
ing in urban spaces and collectively experiencing new vistas bond as
members of a local community and as members of a distinct nation
with its own history, culture, and identity.
• Urban plans included numerous basic elements, such as the design
of one or more large-scale public edifices, the laying out of spaces
about them, the siting of new statuary, and so on, that were all sub-
ordinate to a dignified environmental whole. These environmental
arrangements, in keeping with City Beautiful logic, literally and
symbolically would center themselves on the most important public
edifice in each settlement, the provincial capital. The four major
urban plans before 1916 were Baguio, Cebu, Manila, and Zambo-
anga, and each both individually and collectively emphasized how
spatial organization, aesthetics, environmental behaviorism, and
166 Chapter 6
civic politics were entwined within the concept and practice of the
American colonial city plan. Of significance as well, invoking an
image that the modern Philippine city was defined by spatial regula-
tion and grand vistas established by the urban planner, the marriage
between societal “progress” and urban design enabled the planner
to attain a laudable status within the imperial mission to uplift and
civilize Philippine society. This fact is frequently downplayed in Phil-
ippine historiography.
• Urban planning in the Philippines tended to be on a large scale. Plans
created before 1916 ranged from that for entire districts to entire cit-
ies. Accordingly, the dictum by Daniel Burnham to “make no little
plans, they have no magic to stir men’s blood” truly applied in regard
to the setting of societal evolution. Within the colonial government
milieu of the Americans’ aspiring to advance civilization in an Asian
society, the implementation of grand urban plans was a tangible way
to achieve that goal.
• The use of large vertical elements was rare for provincial capitols
although domes were to be found, on the Capitol at Cebu—although
it was constructed in 1937—and one was proposed for the (unbuilt)
capitol in Manila. All in all, a building’s dominant elevation would
not be marked above the main entrance by a large vertical feature.
Instead, the central axis would be marked in a nearby public space
by a statue or monument. Its position corresponded thus with a
building’s primary entrance and was typically an important space in
the internal arrangement behind it. In the Capitol in Lingayen, for
example, the seal of the province was placed directly to the rear of
the main entrance (sited at the center of the front elevation).
• In reference to public architecture, it was not typical for the principal
edifice to have the main ground floor level raised greatly above the
level of the ground or street. It was highly unusual for a large num-
ber of steps to lead up to a main entrance. Although this could be
seen in some public buildings, such as Lingayen and Manila, as a rule
public buildings had their ground-floor level close to the street level
and nearby open spaces.
• New urban plans typically involved laying new wide, long, and
straight roadways. Roads of more than one kilometer were not un-
common in either Manila or the provinces. Such roadways would
typically be lined with trees, which helped emphasize one point of
perspective toward a public building of note.
Conclusion 167
• Urban plans integrated spaces for leisure. Walkways along rivers,

new parks in central and peripheral locations, and Spanish-era forts
as sites of recreation were an integral part of the “modern environ-
ment.” New green spaces near public buildings were also locales for
recreation. Sport facilities such as tennis courts were sometimes
found in such spaces.
• Although the period 1898 to 1916 saw the establishment of urban
plans specifically for Philippine cities for the first time in the coun-
try’s history, detailed planning reports were rare. The two principal
planning texts of the era, for Manila and Baguio by Daniel Burnham
and Peirce Anderson, were each short in length and on detailed infor-
mation. Accounts of activity relating to urban design by the consul-
tant architect, published in the annual reports of the Philippine Com-
mission, were even shorter. Overviews of schemes associated with
public architecture, new public spaces, and roads in the provinces
sometimes could be just a few pages.
• Although urban plans centered on one new government office, such
as a capitol, planning projects in actuality often entailed the con-
struction and siting of sometimes numerous public buildings (sited
in proximity to the central edifice). Secondary axes as well as pri-
mary planning alignments determined the siting of buildings and
features such as statues. This meant that spaces, statuary, roads,
and buildings were in harmonious accord. Urban planning involved
the manipulation of space within and about prominent edifices: the
internal and external compositions of buildings corresponded so as
to reinforce points of axiality within facade design and the sur-
roundings of public buildings. By design, the eye would be drawn
toward particular parts of public buildings and statuary at their
front.
• The landscape, both natural and man-made, was fundamental to the
character of the modern Philippine city. Rivers and seafronts were
not ignored in colonial urban plans, and parks at the urban fringe
were often integrated into city plans. New urban spaces were greened
to help give dignity and repose to nearby public edifices. The exploi-
tation of topography was evident in Baguio, Cebu, and many provin-
cial capital cities. Placing buildings on elevated sites enhanced their
visibility, and laying roadways to lead to and from the crests of
mounts helped generate grand vistas. However, as in Baguio, public
buildings did not dominate the landscape. Instead, they fit into the
168 Chapter 6
natural scheme and by doing so worked with rather than against

environmental features.
Influence of Urban Planning in the Philippines on Other Places

The City Beautiful urban design in the Philippines influenced city
planning schemes at about the same time in Australia and the United
States as well. Little attention has been given to the parallels between
city designing in those countries and urban planning in the Philippines
between 1898 and 1916. Yet important schemes were proposed and
built in each. For example, comparing the 1905 plan for Manila with
the 1909 Chicago plan reveals certain commonalities. For example, the
quality of both city plans lies partly in their connection to natural envi-
ronmental features, such as the river and waterfront in Chicago and the
esteros, the Pasig River, and Manila Bay in Manila. Both projects’ basic
urban elements—open spaces and boulevards—also focused on edifices
at the physical and symbolic core of the cities. In Chicago it was to be
the city hall, and in Manila it was to be the capitol. In addition, owing
to the similar design of each city plan, these buildings were to be directly
connected to their hinterland. In Chicago, the road network extended
from the downtown to beyond the city borders to unite rural Illinois to
the city’s new core. New roads outside the city parallel to Lake Michi-
gan were also proposed, the intention being to link the city hall to the
region. In Manila, Burnham used a similar approach—a giant alignment
from the Capitol to the Isla del Corregidor was established. It connected
the nation’s most important building and the Mall to its west to an
island at the mouth of Manila Bay. The cityscape of each metropolis was
to be dominated, at least vertically, by the city hall in Chicago and the
capitol in Manila. The dome of each building not only terminated axes
along roads, urban spaces, or (in Manila) a grand water axis, but also as
tall edifices within their settlements were to have an omnipresence as
citizens traveled about the urban environment.
In reference to Burnham’s 1905 plan for Manila and 1909 plan for
Chicago, each put attention on the city as a whole, and within the urban
totality diagonal boulevards and park systems were hugely important.
Each plan dealt with traffic circulation and public spaces and public
monuments. In Chicago, such features alongside the inescapable visibil-
ity of City Hall encouraged civic harmony among the local population.12
In Manila, statuary near the Capitol, such as the memorial to José Rizal
Conclusion 169
in the Mall, promoted national sentiment among people formerly

believed to be lacking any sense of nationhood. Not only must both
plans be recognized as interweaving functional and symbolic elements,
but their amalgam of practical needs with abstract ideals must also be
comprehended as fundamental to the narrative of modern planned cit-
ies. Likewise, by using city planning to emphasize sight and physical
connection between different urban districts, and between the cities
with their regions, the organization of monumental civic ensembles with
public landscapes and broad thoroughfares not only enabled unre-
stricted movement within each city but also provided a way to engage
with urban design precedents in Europe and North America. These
include the restructuring of Paris (by Georges Haussmann), the renewal
of Vienna by the ringstrasse (ring road)—“The building of the Ring and
transformation of Paris were probably the most important events in the
city planning history of the nineteenth century”—and the McMillan
Plan in Washington, DC.13 In so doing, Burnham was able to demon-
strate that societal improvement was heavily shaped by controlled spa-
tial processes. Thus the Manila and Chicago plans, along with that of
Cleveland, San Francisco, and others, cultivated the belief that city plan-
ning was critical to societal betterment, though in Chicago the “advance-
ment” was to emerge from its distinct history and circumstances, and in
Manila from reforming the city’s environmental structure to rewrite its
political and cultural chronicle to eliminate alleged “black influences”
associated with Spanish colonialism.
Despite the environmental reform of Manila being expedient to
the Americans to help send Spanish colonization and all it entailed to
history, as an urban laboratory to modernize the Philippines, Manila
post-1905 sanctioned the Americans to present their colonial regime as
being “of the people.” Interestingly, central elements of the Manila plan
were replicated in the plan for Chicago. Noted as the maturation of
City Beautiful urbanism in the United States, the 1909 Chicago scheme,
analogous to the Manila project, incorporated many symbolic features
in the proposal for the renewed urban form.14 In effect showing that
government was the driver of the local economy and cultural and social
affairs in the city, the civic and physical “good order” of Chicago, akin
to that of Manila as suggested in the 1905 plan, exhibited the genera-
tion of material advancement. With a religious-like quality, the domes
of City Hall in Chicago and the Capitol in Manila were to encapsulate
what modern urban planning to the Americans was about: a matter
170 Chapter 6
pushed forward in practice from 1893 by Daniel Burnham with each

of his major projects. Each of these schemes “pushed the framework of
City Beautiful planning beyond all its prior limits.”15 Consequently,
if the Chicago plan, “a single, unified, colossal program,” was the
culmination of Burnham’s theoretical and pragmatic understanding of
urban planning, it may be argued that Burnham’s Philippine experi-
ences were vital to his reaching his vocational apogee. Although not
presented to date by scholars as being as visually magnificent as the
1909 Chicago plan, Manila’s plan of 1905 nonetheless was a marker
within City Beautiful of functionalism meeting civic vision. Crucially,
too, that image, at least in proximity to the Manila Bay shoreline and
the green space today called Rizal Park, has persisted and still defines
spatially the center of the Philippine capital city. It also, significantly,
persists in the Philippine provinces in the form of capitol buildings and
nearby civic centers. Baguio too, retains much of its colonial-era core
even though this has recently come under threat due to attempts by the
local government to cut back foliage downtown, as in Malcolm Square,
and to turn green spaces into car parks, as in Burnham Park (near the
Melvin Jones Grandstand and between the Orchidarium and Children’s
Park). Such conduct by the municipality to “renew” the urban core has
consequently given rise to the “Burnham Park is for people, not for
cars” campaign. It seeks to protect the heritage, culture, health, and
well-being of the local population by resisting the continuing threat of
the shrinking of green spaces in Baguio, especially in and about Burn-
ham Park.
Urban planning in the Philippines had an impact on another
important Asia-Pacific region before 1916—the 1912 Canberra plan by
Walter Burley Griffin, which was shaped by contemporary American
city planning notions, specifically, Burnham’s 1909 Chicago plan.16 Yet
the plan for Canberra was also influenced by Burnham’s work in the
Philippines. The Canberra scheme had, for instance, like urban plan-
ning in the Philippines before 1916, nationalistic connotations. In both
form and meaning, Griffin’s plan for Canberra strongly resembled
Burnham’s projects in the Philippines: “Of particular interest is the cen-
tral and often symbolic role given to the natural landscape by both
architects in their design for capital cities in each country. In addition,
Griffin’s Canberra plan replicated many of the visual and morphologi-
cal components evident in Burnham’s 1905 work in Manila and
Baguio.”17
Conclusion 171
Built from 1913 as a city in a landscape, Canberra from the get-go

was to be an object of great beauty. As a showpiece city, Canberra rep-
resented the progression of Australian politics and culture. The city was
to show off Australia to the world as a highly civilized country, a soci-
ety truly worthy of its place within the framework of “modern civiliza-
tion.” An amalgamation of grand Beaux Arts notions of spatial design
and Canberra’s natural setting, the city’s built environment merged
monumental axial planning lines with topographical features: “Can-
berra was, from the outset, a city connected to landscape elements,
albeit ones both natural and artificial.”18 Given this tying of Canberra
to the natural environment, parallels can be made between it and the
1905 plans for Manila and Baguio. These similarities include the place-
ment of the capitol buildings in both Canberra and Manila near bodies
of water, and the creation of green open spaces at the front of these
buildings to establish monumental vistas both to and from the water.19
Burley Griffin described his Canberra plan as utilitarian in that it
would provide, among other things, sites for federal government institu-
tions.20 However, it is evident from sources dating from about 1909 to
1913 that Canberra was not only to be a functional settlement, but also
a place of great symbolic value too. For Prime Minister Andrew Fisher,
Canberra was to exemplify the culture and society that built it.21
Because Canberra’s existence stemmed from the passing of the Com-
monwealth Act in 1901, the new capital city was to embody the newly
formed Australian nation-state. Beth Moore Milroy suggests in her
essay on city identities that societies view themselves within a continu-
ous process of development that generates, at distinct points in time,
new images and discussions.22 Thus, within the framework of a society’s
development and its sense of national consciousness, a capital city in its
physical form can exude information about what is considered valuable
and significant to the nation-state. To fail to understand Canberra’s
design is therefore to fail to grasp the values, perceptions, and disposi-
tion that Australian society conveyed of its citizenry after the Common-
wealth Act. In this regard, the sensitivity among Australians that they
were not treated by Britain as equal members of the British Empire
should not be dismissed. As a new capital city, Canberra was about not
only granting a site for the councils of the nation but also building a
citadel from which Australians could proudly look out into the world as
modern people, and have the world look toward Australia as a modern
nation.
172 Chapter 6
Designed as a single comprehensive whole, a possible reaction to

the unplanned growth of cities that Griffin deplored, Canberra’s plan
was a geometric layout centering on Capitol Hill, a knoll that was the
symbolic heart of the city and nation. Set against a natural backdrop
described by the architect as an amphitheater of hills, and making the
most of the natural advantages of the site—sunlight, open space, hills,
trees, and plants, Canberra was never questioned as being anything
other than an “Australian city” despite being designed by an American
in a contemporary American style. Like that in the Philippines, the plan
for Canberra aimed to promote cultural unity and the presence of
“high civilization.” Like Manila’s plan of 1905, Griffin’s scheme was
about forging a spatial repository for social and political ideals. As
plans expressing the ideals of the states into which they were borne,
Canberra and Manila, and to a lesser degree Baguio, articulated the
desired advancement of culture and politics within their respective
societies. The plans for all three, each with their grand central axes and
secondary alignments, owed much to an American model of spatial
arranging that “assimilated” itself into the political, cultural, and envi-
ronmental landscape so that civic spirit and national identity could be
promoted.23
The Torre de Manila and Built Heritage Management

In late July 2015, the legal representatives of the Order of the
Knights of Rizal (OKR) presented their oral arguments before the
Supreme Court of the Philippines as part of the case against DMCI
Homes and its construction of the Torre de Manila.24 A high-rise resi-
dential building 165 meters (541 feet) in height, the Torre de Manila,
given its location at Taft Avenue immediately to the rear and east of
Rizal Park in Manila, is said by the OKR to contravene laws relating
to the preservation of culture and heritage (see figure 6.1).25 The OKR
case is grounded in the claim that the new building has “broken the
vista” of the Rizal Monument when seen from the west, that is, near
Roxas Boulevard.26 Countering this stance, DMCI Homes filed a
memorandum to the Supreme Court in mid-July 2015 to dismiss the
OKR’s petition and lift the temporary restraining order so that con-
struction on the residential tower could continue.27 DMCI Homes
explains:
Conclusion 173
the government heritage agencies have no jurisdiction over the Torre

de Manila because it was built on private property outside of the Rizal
Park or any heritage zone, and that the Rizal Monument was declared
a national cultural treasure one year after the developer obtained all
government permits and started building.28
Described by DCMI Homes as an “exclusive residential tower right in

the heart of the city—leading universities, reputable hospitals, and key
businesses and commercial centers of the Metro are all within an easy
drive or commute,” the Torre de Manila has created a firestorm in the
Philippine media, on social media, and among parties interested in Phil-
ippine built heritage.29 The International Council on Monuments and
Sites, for instance, during its November 2014 General Assembly, issued
a resolution against the Torre de Manila and protection of the Rizal
Monument vista.30 The resolution stipulated that
Figure 6.1. Vista across Roxas Boulevard to the Rizal Monument during the early
morning ceremony to mark the anniversary of the assassination of José Rizal,
December 29, 2015. The Torre de Manila is visible in the background.
Source: Author.
174 Chapter 6
The Torre de Manila is a serious visual disruption to the solemnity of

the Rizal Monument and, therefore, must be removed. Even if located
at a distance from the monument, the height and volume of the “Torre
de Manila” disrespects the Rizal Monument by visually taking away its
importance. The skyscraper shifts the visual focus away from the mon-
ument, seriously diminishing the harmony of the visual ensemble that
gives eminence of the memorial to our national hero and destroys the
visual integrity of the skyline and silhouette that form the monument’s
backdrop when seen from key vantage points.
Relatedly, in January 2015, the National Commission for Culture and

the Arts (NCCA) issued a cease and desist order against DCMI Homes
because, with reference to the National Cultural Heritage Act (2009),
the Torre de Manila “destroys or significantly alters” the view to the
Rizal Monument.
Located within an expansive site that fronts Taft Avenue, the
Torre de Manila lies 789 meters (863 yards) from the Rizal Monu-
ment. The building, when completed, will stand at a height of 165
meters (180 yards), slightly offset from the central east-west axis of
Rizal Park—an alignment marked by the Rizal Monument. It is there-
fore inevitable that the building will extrude into any view of the mon-
ument from the westernmost section of the park. Basic trigonometry
makes this point clear. Ideal viewing of the Rizal Monument is from a
distance of twenty meters, that is, from the barrier to the west of the
monument to discourage the public from coming any closer to it.
Given the height of the Torre de Manila, and its distance from the
Rizal Monument, for a person five feet five inches (1.65 meters) tall,
the angle of elevation from the viewer to the top of the Torre de Manila
is 11.4 degrees and the height of the Rizal Monument 12.7 meters
(13.8 yards) tall. Thus the Torre de Manila blocks more than half of
the Rizal Monument. Further, as the distance west from the Rizal
Monument increases, so does the scale of the Torre de Manila relative
to it. The setting of Rizal Park, because of the planting of trees at its
southern and northern sides, permits a one-point perspective west-east
through the space to be formed. Hence, from the roadway presently
known as Independence Road, a thoroughfare laid down near where
Burnham envisaged in the 1905 city plan Manila’s water gate to be,
the vista to Rizal Park is dominated if not entirely blocked by the Torre
de Manila (see figure 6.2).
Conclusion 175
Figure 6.2. Contemporary view east to Rizal Park from close to where Burnham
envisaged Manila’s “water gate.” Source: Author.
The process of constructing the Torre de Manila has in the past

few years encountered a number of legal blocks. On March 31, 2013,
to give an example, an ordinance was passed by the City of Manila
government to ensure that any land development in the city was sub-
ject to regulation so that lines of sight to cultural sites and monu-
ments were preserved. In spite of this, DCMI Homes was able to
obtain an exemption from the ruling, and so was able to proceed with
the building of the condominium block. Indeed the construction of
the Torre de Manila continued until the Supreme Court’s Temporary
Restraining Order was issued in mid-2015. By August 2015 the solici-
tor general, Florin Hilbay, supported the OKR petition to demolish
the Torre de Manila. Speaking before the justices at the Supreme
Court, Hilbay, the legal representative of the NCCA and the National
Museum, remarked that the high-rise building impairs the visual
integrity of the Rizal Monument.31 He added, “The government is
asking the Honorable Court to order private respondent DMCI to
demolish Torre de Manila, an illegal construction, to the extent that it
impairs the sightline of the Rizal Monument.” According to Hilbay, as
emphasized in chapter 3 of this volume, the Rizal Monument and
176 Chapter 6
Rizal Park as originally formed were intended to be seen from west to

east, and with a clear sightline.
The controversy surrounding the Torre de Manila and preservation
of historic built environments in the Philippines centers on a number of
points. These include the speed at which property development compa-
nies such as DCMI Homes are sometimes able to obtain the necessary
permits to construct new buildings. Such speed gives rise to fear of cor-
ruption within public offices. Accordingly, some worry that further high-
rise developments will not only be built, for instance, east of Rizal Park
but also near other nationally important heritage sites. As The Palladium,
a publication from the Ateneo Law School, noted, “That both the City of
Manila and the NHCP [National Historical Commission of the Philip-
pines] hastily approved the construction of the tower after DMCI had
appealed their decisions to oppose the construction, speaks heavily of the
kind of mentality people in government have over laws which were laid
down for a purpose.”32 Another cause for concern focuses on the civil
servants charged with heritage protection. Since August 2015, the Office
of the Solicitor General has been in public disagreement with the NHCP
about interpretations of building law, giving rise to disquiet among mem-
bers of the public about the NHCP’s role in ensuring that heritage sites
under Philippine law are protected.33 Moreover, because the head of the
NHCP from 2011 to 2016, Maria Serena Diokno, refused to publicly
explain the NHCP’s issuance of a building permit for a high-rise close to
the nation’s most important monument, politicians including Senator Pia
Cayetano have asked for change within the organization.34 For Cayet-
ano, Rizal Park has become a threatened heritage site.
I find it extremely strange that we now have the National Historical

Commission of the Philippines insisting that it cannot defend the Rizal
Monument when there are many of us, including the solicitor general,
the defender of the Constitution, who believe that we must and we can
protect the Rizal Monument under the Constitution and existing laws.35
Oral arguments on the OKR case concluded after six hearings in early
September 2015. In late April 2017, the Supreme Court dismissed the
petition against the construction of the Torre de Manila. The Court’s
ruling and its remark that no law in the Philippines prohibits the con-
struction of the condominium tower—a building dubbed by its critics as
the pambansang photobomber (national photobomber)—will no doubt
Conclusion 177
have massive implications for the preservation of built heritage in

Manila and other Philippine cities. As this work makes explicit, knowl-
edge of urban design during the American colonial period is critical to
understanding how the modern Philippine city and thus spaces such as
Rizal Park, the grounds of capitols, their monuments, and road systems
came into being. But attention to the urban history of the American
colonial era is also helpful in unpacking the problems of contemporary
Philippine politics. First, as the OKR case demonstrates, much more
needs to be done with regard to the management of Philippine cities.
This matter is culturally significant given shifts in the social imaginaries
of the public in past decades. Second is that the Philippines have seen no
environmental movement of note regarding the creation of public spaces
since independence in 1946. Manila, for example, currently has one of
the lowest proportions of open, green, public space to private space in
the world (see figure 6.3). Furthermore, the spaces remaining in the city
are not only of the colonial age—be it the Spanish or the American
period—but also under threat as to their integrity. Given the Supreme
Court ruling that the Torre de Manila should continue to stand, the vista
from west to east of the Rizal Monument is permanently obscured.
Figure 6.3. View east from the Manila Hotel in 2011 of the Intramuros walls and
Rizal Park. Source: Author.
178 Chapter 6
S imilarly, if heritage rulings continue to be loosely interpreted by muni

cipal and provincial governments, little will stand in the way of, say,
Baguio and its hills with pines—the defining feature of the city as it was
originally planned—being removed?36 In light of the ever-increasing
need to sustain an economy of one hundred million plus people, the
buildings and spaces created by the Americans to develop community
spirit and augment Philippine nationhood are, in the name of today’s
“national progress,” being fundamentally undermined.
The media furor surrounding the OKR and the Torre de Manila
court case, as much as it highlighted contemporary concerns with built
heritage preservation and the management of cities in the Philippines,
has also made many residents of Metro Manila keenly aware of their
disconnection from “downtown.” Whereas Manila developed during
both the Spanish and American colonial eras with distinct urban cores,
each including public spaces where communal activities were held, in the
postcolonial context, Manila, particularly after the 1970s, has grown
rapidly and enlarged to such an extent that a journey from the suburbs
to the colonial cores now takes considerably longer than it once did.
Given that people have in the past few decades moved out of the inner
districts to the suburbs or to other areas farther out, such as Quezon
City, the national capital established after independence, and that the
metropolis has developed on a multiple nuclei model—Metro Manila
today includes twelve municipalities and has a collective population of
about thirteen million—as a conurbation without a major metro rail sys-
tem the metropolis suffers from seemingly perpetual road traffic conges-
tion problems.37 People are understandably often reluctant to travel any
great distance within the city’s bounds. Because rush hour traffic moves
as slow as two to three kilometers (one to two miles) an hour, any visit
from the suburbs to Rizal Park can easily take two to three hours.
Manila’s residents are consequently far less motivated and have less
opportunity to visit either the Intramuros or Rizal Park than prior gen-
erations. Hence, somewhat atypically, the outcry over the Torre de
Manila people has encouraged people to return to Rizal Park, and by
doing so the space has been replanted in their collective memory. In the
context of the media firestorm and people flocking back to downtown
historic quarters, the public has been able to appreciate firsthand how
much the built fabric in Manila has changed during their lifetime. This
process of environmental development and its negative imprint on heri-
tage sites has been noted elsewhere in the city. The “renewal” of the Army
Conclusion 179
and Navy Club, an important American colonial-era building on a site

on the southern periphery of the New Luneta, is another example of
built heritage put at risk by the much publicized guise of “building
development” job opportunities (see figure 6.4).38 The Torre de Manila
standing where it does and the renovation of the Army and Navy Club
into a boutique hotel and casino will greatly diminish, not enhance, what
Burnham in 1905 intended to be the most glorious waterfront in all of
the Orient. Under such renewal, Burnham’s water gate and Washington-
inspired mall could become a “playground” that most citizens of the city
cannot afford to use or enjoy. The space of the nation, Rizal Park, formed
to bring people together as Filipinos, will become a place that few Filipi-
nos will regularly visit, a space not of unity but of dichotomy. It will
demonstrate how Manila has corrupted its respect for its past, its people,
and their evolution.
In other parts of Manila, spaces important to the city’s history cur-
rently give an impression of being under no public management, or at
least having no apparent heritage value. Public spaces in the Extramuros
such as Spanish-era plazas in front of churches are now car parks or run
down to such an extent that they are barely usable for anyone but the
Figure 6.4. Front facade of the Army and Navy Club in late 2016. Source: Author.
180 Chapter 6
homeless. American-era spaces also, such as Plaza Lawton, at the front

of the Central Post Office site, have lost their initial grandeur to the
presence of squatters, the dumping of waste objects, open drains, and
broken pavement stones. However, thanks to organizations such as the
Philippine Institute of Architects (PIA), some attention has been turned
to prominent American colonial-era public buildings and the need for
their restoration. For example, William E. Parsons’ train station in Paco,
now derelict, is the focus of a comprehensive PIA conservation report.
Serving during the American colonial period as the transport link
between the Philippine capital and the provinces, Parsons’ station, com-
pleted in 1915, with its grand classical front elevation decorated with
columns, pilasters, and large stone eagle sculptures on each side of the
clock above the main entrance, certainly enhanced the cityscape of
Manila at the time. Since the late 1990s, however, when a shopping mall
was proposed on the train station’s site and part of Parsons’ building
was demolished, the train station, Manila’s equivalent of Union Station
in Washington, DC, has stood empty, an unusable structural skeleton,
the steel frame of the half-built shopping mall exposed, the contractor
having run out of capital (see figure 6.5).39 Such a scene is depressing
Figure 6.5. Front of the rail station in Paco by William E. Parsons in August 2016.
Source: Author.
Conclusion 181
enough but it is not alone. Two giant electricity pylons sit within the
green space at the front of the rail station from which Burnham’s boule-
vards were to run to various parts of Manila. A flyover is also being
built directly in front of the formerly grand edifice. Beauty does not
describe what the eye presently sees, or will ever see, in proximity to
Parsons’ building. Manila’s heritage lobby has therefore suggested dis-
mantling the structure and moving it to a new site.
Despite the outwardly gloomy future for historic built environ-
mental features in the Philippines, sectors of society continue to be
overly sanguine about their preservation and use. It is vital that academ-
ics, professional organizations, and nationally renowned bodies such as
the NCCA take a lead role in promoting discourse on both urban his-
tory and built heritage. Such debate, with both structural environmental
and cultural historical perspectives, will provide robust analytical frame-
works to questions that include “What is the Filipino?” and “What is
the Filipino cultural heritage context?”
City Beautiful planning is shown in this volume to have had an
immense role in helping shape the meaning of being Filipino and the
form of the modern Philippine urban environment after 1898. Daniel
Burnham and William E. Parsons were critical to this process. In Sep-
tember 2016, the NCCA encouraged new discussion in the process of
composing a heritage charter. It, no doubt, when complete will be a wel-
come addition to the armory of the Philippine heritage lobby. Yet, sig-
nificantly too, as the Torre de Manila episode makes clear, unless city
and provincial governments sign, the impact of any heritage charter will
be limited. The issue of built heritage preservation in the Philippines
arguably lies more with the implementation of rulings than the need to
devise new decrees as a response to charters.40 For, ironically, although
public authorities under the law are the guardians of heritage, they have
in fact become the agencies sanctioning the destruction of important
historic buildings, the removal of public spaces, and the lack of care for
the urban waterways (Burnham identified the esteros of Manila, for
example, as vital to the development of the economy, life, and reputa-
tion of the city).41 Now the waterways stand stagnant and polluted, giv-
ing the impression of being totally uncared for. In a sense, the historic
urban fabric has been torn, even shredded, in Manila and in other Phil-
ippine cities.
There are thus two generic points on which to conclude. First, until
public authorities appreciate more deeply the quality of the country’s
182 Chapter 6
urban historical features, and recognize how colonial city plans contrib-
uted to the making of Filipino identity and quality of life, then “prog-
ress” of the sort politicians currently promote will continue to be a
byword for the publicly sanctioned negligence of history and its built
products. Second, to paraphrase Sylvia Mendez-Ventura, until features
such as the esteros are taken seriously as a facet of Manila’s environ-
ment, the city’s reputation—which Burnham redefined in 1905 as a Pearl
of the Orient and Venice of the Far East—will be a joke rather than a
compliment.42 In the light of city plans for the national capital city, the
schemes for Baguio, Cebu, Zamboanga, and provincial capitol grounds,
the American intention before 1916 was to not take Philippine urban
environments for granted. Rather, it was to use them for colonial gov-
ernmental goals. Fundamentally, this approach was also true for Fili-
pino architect-planners after 1916, who until 1941, and so within the
colonial milieu, designed public buildings, roads, and open spaces vital
to forging the Filipino identity. Their work in the Bureau of Public
Works, for instance, was critical to maintaining the urban design
momentum Burnham initiated in 1905. Notably too, these profession-
als, just as Burnham and Parsons before them, demonstrated that Philip-
pine towns and cities are made up of far more than buildings. They
sought to produce a balanced urban setting in which buildings, roads,
and open spaces were designed in harmony with each other. Top-notch
civic designers such as Juan Arellano established, before the Philippine
Commonwealth was established in 1935, public spaces that became the
center of urban life. Often large in scale, landscaped with flowers, trees,
and lawns, these open areas were the hubs of their communities. Sadly,
many of these spaces today are now poorly looked after or have been
filled with structures that seem more to satisfy the ego of the architect
rather to enhance the experience of the user of the space. At risk of being
turned into basketball courts or car parks, as in Baguio, public spaces
laid down throughout the Philippines after 1905 must be recognized as
being important to all Filipinos. The spaces, with their statuary to local
or national heroes and nearby public edifices, were established until
1941 as the physical glue to bind people of all classes and races together.
Reviving these civic spaces, as many are now seeking to do in Manila
and elsewhere, will not only boost local and national pride but also will
encourage people to reconnect with an urban built environment estab-
lished to elevate their well-being and define them as Filipinos.
Notes
Chapter 1. Modernity, Nationhood, and Philippine Cities

1. Epigraph. Burnham and Bennett, Plan of Chicago, 29.
Nation-building is said to be the dynamic process where the imagining
of what comprises or represents the nation is strengthened and reevalu-
ated (Maria Atienza, introduction, xxv).
2. “Publishers’ Note Baguio 100,” Baguio Centennial Yearbook, 8.
3. Morris, History of Urban Form, 294.
4. Szuchman, “The City as Vision,” 5.
5. Franca, History of the Philippines, 57; Tremml-Werner, Spain, China,
and Japan in Manila, 98–100; Phelan, Hispanization of the Philippines,
47–48. Spaniards first arrived in the Philippine Archipelago in 1521
but colonization did not start until 1565 (Zaide, The Philippines, 80;
Harrison, Cornerstone of Philippine Independence, 19).
6. Mundigo and Crouch, “City Planning Ordinances,” 248.
7. From 1565 to 1898, more than two hundred settlements were estab-
lished by the Spanish in the Philippines (Chias and Abad, “Colonial
Urban Planning,” 9).
8. Morley, “Cultural Expansion of America,” 230–233.
9. Stanley, Nation in the Making, 82.
10. Theories of modernization commonly emphasize the role of new pro-
cesses of rationalization. The development of modern urban environ-
ments consequently derives from individuals venturing to make sense
of, interpret, and bring human experiences under control (Rosa, Social
Acceleration, 35–46; Berman, All That Is Solid, 15).
11. In total, thirty-one provincially located capitols were in use by 1916.
Some dated from the Spanish colonial era.
12. Sheppard, “Problems of European Modernism,” 1.
13. Rosa, Social Acceleration, 21; Heller, Theory of Modernity, 42.
14. Sheppard, “Problems of European Modernism,” 1.
15. Foucault, Politics of Truth, 106.
183
184 Notes to Pages 5–10
16. Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe, 47.

17. Fernald, “Modernism and Tradition,” 157.
18. Hobsbawm, “Inventing Traditions,” 1.
19. Modernity does not necessarily constitute a radical break from the past
(Harvey, Paris, 1).
20. Williams, “Simultaneous Uncontemporaneities,” 13.
21. Ahearne, “Other Languages,” 162.
22. Williams, “Simultaneous Uncontemporaneities,” 28.
23. Ibid., 33.
24. Abueva, Making of the Filipino Nation, 5.
25. Ibid., 8.
26. Majul, Political and Constitutional Ideas, 1; Mendoza Cortes, Boncon,
and Jose, Filipino Saga, 125.
27. Corpuz, Roots of the Filipino Nation, 24. The assassination of indi-
viduals associated with the Mutiny provided Filipino nationalism with
its first martyrs. One effect was to wipe out an entire generation of
almost all of the most educated Filipinos, priests, lawyers, and mer-
chants (Schumacher, “Rise of Nationalism,” 25).
28. The Cavite Mutiny was treated by the colonial authorities as a political
movement, hence it was mercilessly avenged (Foreman, Philippines,
363).
29. The roles of the “Gomburza” were not merely of martyrs or symbol.
Burgos, for instance, was an individual before his death known for
playing a positive role in the formation of national spirit (Schumacher,
“Gomburza,” 1653).
30. Constantino, A History, 143.
31. Corpuz, Roots of the Filipino Nation, 46–47.
32. The use of the term by the Spanish colonial authorities from the 1860s
in local newspapers emphasized the racial difference as stipulated in
Special Law between the colonizers and the colonized, but by the
1870s had the effect of uniting creoles, natives, and mestizos under the
same identity (Blanco, Frontier Constitutions,151–153).
33. Constantino, A Past Revisited, 146.
34. The etymology of the term has been discussed by Maria Serena Dio-
kno, who identifies an ideological connection to the Enlightenment,
Liberalism, and anticlericalism (“Making of the Filipino,” 134–135).
35. Castañeda Anastacio, Foundations of the Modern Philippine State, 41.
36. Ibid., 129.
37. Guerrero, First Filipino, 496.
38. Anderson, Spectre of Comparisons, 230.
Notes to Pages 10–16 185
39. Guerrero, First Filipino, 496.

40. Ibid., 497.
41. Ileto, Filipinos, 1.
42. Estimates of membership are as high as thirty thousand (The Philip-
pines 100 Years, 30).
43. The organization’s membership and influence was initially confined to
the Tagalog-speaking provinces of Central Luzon (May, Inventing a
Hero,13). By the end of 1896, revolution was most active in Manila
and the provinces of Batangas, Bulacan, Cavite, Laguna, Morong,
Nueva Ecija, Pampagna, Tarlac and Tayabas (Mendoza Cortes, Bon-
con, and Jose, Filipino Saga, 152).
44. Ibid.
45. Abueva, Making of the Filipino Nation, 240.
46. Cullinane, Arenas of Conspiracy, 83.
47. Corpuz, Roots of the Filipino Nation, 306.
48. Guerrero, “Surrender at Biak-na-Bato,” 209.
49. Vale, Architecture, 3.
50. Ibid., 9.
51. Anderson, Imagined Communities, 5–6.
53. Hirschi, Origins of Nationalism, 35–36.
54. Hegel, Lectures, 134.
55. Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, 1.
56. Matters acknowledged as helping bond people together include race,
language, religion, and topography, that is, topographical features such
as islands and mountain ranges (Geertz, Interpretation of Cultures,
261–263).
57. Gellner, “Nationalism and High Culture,” 64.
58. Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, 7.
59. For Sutcliffe, regardless of the actual form of environmental transfor-
mation, it is determined by three fundamentals: cultural values, the
emergence of national institutions, and economic development (Sut-
cliffe, “Capital Cities,” 196).
60. Vale, Architecture, 53.
61. Hobsbawm, “Nation as Invented Tradition,” 77–78.
63. Kramer, Blood of Government; Hawkins, Making Moros; Welch,
Response to Imperialism; Karnow, In Our Image; Go, American Empire.
64. Brody, Visualizing American Empire; Lico, Arkitekturang Filipino; Tor-
res, Americanization; Hines, Burnham.
Chapter 2. Spanish Colonialism, American Imperialism, and the Philippines

1. Epigraph. Brown, New Era in the Philippines, 19.
Corpuz, Roots of the Filipino Nation, 403.
2. Ileto, “Knowing America’s Colony,” 22.
3. Brown, New Era in the Philippines, 19; McHale, “Development of
American Policy,” 59.
4. Willis, Our Philippine Problem, 1.
5. Ibid., 2.
6. Ireland, Tropical Colonization, 220.
7. Ibid., 220–221.
8. New York Times, “Filipinos Not Fitted,”1.
9. Van Ells, “White Man’s Burden,” 609.
10. Blount, American Occupation, 149–150.
11. Stuntz, Philippines and the Far East, 31.
12. Willis, Our Philippine Problem, 261.
13. Hunt, “American Ideology,” 20.
14. Burnham and Anderson, “Report on Improvement,” 635.
15. Wiselius, Visit to Manila, 12.
16. Manila Times, “Two Civilizations,” 3.
17. Le Roy, Americans in the Philippines, 52–54; Scott, Bacon, and Root,
Military and Colonial Policy, 239–240; Forbes, Philippine Islands, vol.
1, 443; Brown, New Era in the Philippines, 21.
18. Skirbekk, Multiple Modernities, 7.
19. Elizalde, “Imperial Transition in the Philippines,” 155.
20. Constantino, “Origin of a Myth,” 115; Arcilla, “Origin of the Philip-
pine Political Elite,” 135.
21. Paredes, “Origins of National Politics,” 44.
22. Gaerlan, “The Pursuit of Modernity,” 98–99.
23. Taft, letter to Elihu Root, July 14, 1900, Taft Papers.
24. Arcilla, “Origins,” 137.
25. Go, “Provinciality of American Empire,” 79.
26. New York Times, “ ‘Filipinos do like Americans,’” 9. The government
was headed by the Philippine Commission, formed in March 1900 as
the first and sole legislative body in the Philippines. The commission
existed until 1916 when, as part of the Philippine Autonomy Act, it
was replaced by an elected legislature. The original commission mem-
bers were Dean Worcester, Bernard Moses, Luke Wright, Henry Ide,
and William Taft. From 1901, new commission members included
Benito Legarda (September 1901 to October 1907), Trinidad Pardo de
Tavera (September 1901 to February 1909), Jose Ruiz de Luzurinage
(September 1901 to October 1913), James Smith (January 1903 to

November 1909), W. Cameron Forbes (June 1904 to November 1909),
William Shuster (September 1906 to February 1909), Gregorio Ara-
neta (February 1909 to October 1913), Newton Gilbert (July 1908 to
December 1913), Rafael Palma (July 1908 to October 1916), Juan Su-
mulong (March 1909 to October 1913), Francis B. Harrison (Septem-
ber 1913 to October 1916), Victorino Mapa (October 1913 to Octo-
ber 1916), Jaime de Veyra (October 1913 to April 1916), Vicente
Ilustre (October 1913 to October 1916), Vicente Singson Encarnacion
(October 1913 to October 1916), Henderson Martin (November 1913
to October 1916), Clinton Riggs (November 1913 to October 1915),
Eugene E. Reed (May 1916 to October 1916), Wilford Denison (Janu-
ary 1914 to March 1916).
27. All elected officials had to take an oath that recognized “the supreme
authority of the United States of America and will maintain true faith
and allegiance thereto” (Township Government Act, 7).
28. Jessup, Elihu Root, 345.
29. What Has Been Done, 7.
30. The notion is that the United States is only an imperial power when
absolutely necessary (Caronan, Legitimizing Empire, 5).
31. Ileto, Knowing America’s Colony, 22.
32. A Pronouncing Gazetteer, 65–66.
33. Ibid., 67.
34. Everett, Exciting Experiences, 445.
35. Taft, Hearing Before Committee, 28.
36. Ibid.
37. In the Philippines, 31–32.
38. Kemlein, Guide and Map, 6.
39. Taft, Hearing Before Committee, 31.
40. New York Times, “Spain in the Philippines,” 22.
41. Russell, Outlook, 3.
42. New York Times, “Dean C. Worcester Speaks,” 5. The First Philippine
Commission, also known as the Schurman Commission, was formed
on January 20, 1899, by President William McKinley. Its members
were Worcester, Admiral George Dewey, Charles Denby (former US
minister to China), Elwell Otis, and Jacob Schurman, the Head of the
Commission. The primary purpose of the commission was to investi-
gate conditions in the Philippines and to make recommendations. The
final report of the First Philippine Commission was on January 3,
1900, and recommended establishing a civilian government having a

bicameral legislature.
43. Halstead, Story of the Philippines, 100.
44. In the Philippines, 34.
45. Ibid., 27, 96.
46. Juan, US Imperialism, 48.
47. Doty, Imperial Encounters, 37.
48. Juan, US Imperialism, 51.
49. Census of the Philippine Islands, Vol. 2, 15.
50. Taft, address to the Chamber of Commerce of the State of New York,
April 21, 1904, 9, Taft Papers.
51. Halstead, Story of the Philippines, 93.
52. First Report, xiv; Stickey, Admiral Dewey, 256.
53. Roosevelt and Taft, Philippines, 105–106.
54. Tan, History, 41–49.
55. Reed, Colonial Manila, 3–5.
56. Reed, “Hispanic Urbanism,” 23.
57. de Sande, “Expeditions,” 282–285.
58. Tan, History, 7–8.
59. At the time of the Spanish conquest the archipelago’s population con-
sisted of about 670,000 persons (Doeppers and Xenos, “Demographic
Frame,” 3).
60. Society at that time comprised three classes: chiefs (datus); citizens
(timaguas); slaves (oripes).
61. Klassen, Architecture , 49–50.
62. Manahan, Philippine Architecture, 10; Lico, Arkitekturang Filipino, 9.
63. Fernandez, Diksiyonaryong, 2–35.
64. Lico, Arkitekturang Filipino, 27.
65. Stanislawski, “Early Spanish Town Planning,” 94.
66. Mundigo and Crouch, “City Planning Ordinances,” 248.
67. Reed, Colonial Manila, 14–15; Dumol, Manila Synod, lvii.
68. Stanislawski, “Origin and Spread,” 106; Crouch, “Roman and Spanish
Colonization,” 198.
69. Morley, “ Creation,” 7; Reps, Making of Urban America, 32.
70. Lico, Arkitekturang Filipino, 105–106. With regard to the Philippines,
the 1582 Synod of Manila outlined the purpose of Spanish coloniza-
tion. Central to this process was obligation to gather the Indios (na-
tives) into new towns. A number of reasons were given for this, includ-
ing: “because that is what the king commands”; “needs and sickness
[of the Indians] will be remedied”; “[the Indians] cannot have a com-
monwealth or government, or peace and order, nor can some of them

be picked for governance, nor can the good be rewarded or the evil
punished”; “helping others in their needs, lending, giving alms, and
doing good are very natural deeds.” By doing this, the Spanish would
accomplish policía, that is, civilization (Dumol, Manila Synod, lvi–lvii).
71. Nuttall, “Royal Ordinances,” 250.
72. The siting of churches next to plazas in the Philippines, owing to a lack
of fortifications in settlements, meant they had, if required, a defensive
or military role.
73. Cushner, Spain, 65.
74. Trade had been established centuries prior between China and the Phil-
ippines. The expansion of the Spanish Empire to East Asia, and Manila
acting as a trading post between Spain (and Mexico) and China (and
Japan), brought potentially rich rewards for piracy and invasion. The
Chinese as a consequence were not allowed to live inside the walled
city in Manila, and attempts were made by the Spanish to constrain the
Chinese community’s population size (Crossley, Hernando de los Ríos,
15–16).
75. The outcome of the 1583 fire was that “all the city was burned in a few
hours, as it was built of wood. There was great loss of goods and prop-
erty. The city was rebuilt with great difficulty and labour, leaving the
Spaniards very poor and needy” (Morga, History, 59).
76. Dasmariñas set out new rules as to the environmental form of M anila—
for example, it had to be enclosed by a stone wall—and on the galleon
trade with Mexico (Giraldez, Age of Trade, 68).
77. Merchants in Manila by the end of the 1500s had financial investments
in places as geographically dispersed as Brazil, Mexico, Macau, Japan,
Malacca, and South China. An intricate web of mercantile exchanges
and investments from Manila was uncovered by the Inquisition
between circa 1580 and 1630. Much investment in Manila galleons
was by New Christians, that is, Jews who had converted to Christian-
ity. The galleon trade was the first commercial network to connect
Asia, the Americas, and Europe, and by the seventeenth century M anila
had established itself as the entrepôt of Asia. As a major port city, Ma-
nila was able to attract traders from other parts of the continent (Zial-
cita, Authentic, 195).
78. The moat surrounding the city was widened and deepened in 1603 fol-
lowing an uprising by the local Chinese population.
79. Reed, Colonial Manila, 49.
80. Klassen, Architecture, 75.
81. By the end of the Spanish colonial period, Manila’s built environment
included eleven major plazas. The plazas of the Extramuros, the spatial
core of communities, were formed between the late 1500s and late
1800s. The first church in the district was constructed in 1606 (De
Viana, Three Centuries, 87).
82. Richard Ahlborn discusses the influence of Manila as a missionary cen-
tre on Spanish church architecture (“Spanish Churches,” 283–292).
83. Reed, Colonial Manila, 15.
85. Constantino, “Origin of a Myth,” 61.
86. As in the Americas, the native population was considered a legal minor
protected by both the Crown and Church. This population, forming
the República de los Indios (Republic of the Natives), throughout the
Spanish colonial period spoke their own language and had their own
authorities. With the exception of the Church’s friar lands, the hacien-
das of Central American did not exist in Southeast Asia. Instead the
Spaniards exploited the local population by co-opting the Filipino up-
per class, the datus, to impart resources and labor. Local government
was to be based on the native kinship unit as articulated within baran-
gays (see Giraldez, Age of Trade, 84–85).
87. Ibid., 61.
88. To acculturate themselves into Spanish civilization the leaders of the
larger Filipino communities, such as Manila, learned Spanish, and
abandoned customs such as headhunting (Scott, Looking, 5–7).
89. The galleon trade from the 1500s until 1815 laid the foundation for
what was for that time the largest cultural, religious, trading, and
human exchange across the Pacific Ocean. The connection between the
ports of Acapulco and Manila was more than economic. See Angara,
“Philippine-Mexican Partnership,” 21; Angara and Cariño, Manila
Galleon, 32.
91. Blount, American Occupation, 148.
92. Stickey, Admiral Dewey, 188.
93. Younghusband, Philippines, 51.
94. Report of the Philippine Commission, 52.
95. Ibid., 50.
96. Williams, Odyssey, 49.
97. Manila and the Philippines, 10.
98. Forbes-Lindsay, Philippines, 400.
99. A major earthquake in July 1880 on Luzon Island heralded the mate-
rial modernization of local architecture, for example, the use of c ement,
steel frames, and iron sheets for roofing. See Lico and Tomacruz,
“Infrastructure of Modernity,” 1–11.
100. Forbes-Lindsay, Philippines, 409.
101. Ibid., 410.
102. Younghusband, Philippines, 51.
103. A Pronouncing Gazetteer, 184.
104. Ibid., 161.
105. Reports of the Taft Philippine Commission, 63.
106. Census of the Philippine Islands, 9.
107. Miller, Interesting Manila, 223.
108. In October 1901, the Bureau of Architecture and Construction of Pub-
lic Buildings was founded. The bureau’s first chief was Edgar Bourne,
an architect from New York. Bourne was assisted by two Americans,
Stephen Barlon (as clerk) and Samuel Rowell (as a draftsman). Three
Filipinos, Ysabelo Asuncion, Sergio Cabrera, and Juan Aragon, were
also employed as draftsmen (Alarcon, Imperial Tapestry, 36–37).
109. Nakpil, “Filipino Cultural Roots,” 195.
Chapter 3. The City Beautiful and the Modern Philippine Capital City
1. Epigraph. Burnham, “Report on Improvement,” 635.
In June 1905, the Philippine Commission passed an Act appropriating
almost ₱4,900,000 from funds realized by the sale of Public Improve-
ment Bonds. Such money was to be used for schemes tied to the r enewal
of Manila as recommended by Burnham (“Improvements in the Philip-
pines,” 22).
2. The 1905 report was to permit the controlled enlargement of the city.
Although no demographic figure was put on how large Manila was to
become, the Times noted in November 1910 that Burnham’s scheme
would accommodate Manila’s population to grow to up to two million
people (“America in the Philippines”).
3. Lico, “Imperial Manila,” 58.
4. March, History and Conquest, 197.
5. “We found a country absolutely stagnant. There was no marked
annual increase either in population, in trade, or in intellectual devel-
opment” (Forbes, “Commencement Address”). To raise finance to im-
prove the supply of water and to construct sewers the Philippine Com-
mission in 1902 issued bonds to the value of $4,000,000 (Third
Annual Report, 30).
6. White, Our New Possessions, 140–141.

7. Browne, Pearl of the Orient, 104.
8. Morley, “Modern Urban Form,” 9.
9. Wright, Politics of Design, 9.
10. On March 28, 1898, Congress was informed that a mine had caused
the USS Maine to sink (Rhodes, McKinley and Roosevelt, 50).
11. Stickney, War in the Philippines, 37; Gowing, “American Mood,” 60.
12. Rarick, Progressive Vision, 24; Foglesong, Planning, 124.
13. Ward, Planning, 35; Robin, Enclaves of America, 35; Parsons, “Burn-
ham,” 13.
14. Robinson, Modern Civic Art, 17.
15. Morley, “City Beautiful Movement,” 150.
16. Hall, Cities of Tomorrow, 189; Nierhaus, “Urban Revolution,” 27.
17. Burnham and Bennett, Plan of Chicago, 121.
18. Budden, “Relation of Exposition Planning,” 155–159.
19. Parsons, “Burnham,” 14.
20. The media, both in the United States and overseas, interpreted the
event’s environment as the US artistic ideal (Draper, “White City,” xi).
21. Reps, Making of Urban America, 24.
22. Bluestone, Constructing Chicago, 153.
23. Peterson, Birth of City Planning, 78.
24. Field, “Interpreting,” 118. Daniel Burnham identified the beautiful
city with democracy. Cynthia Field remarks on how in context of
Burnham’s grasp of democracy the creation of a city plan may be per-
ceived as a patriotic act to awaken the citizenry into action. Guided
by this belief, she argues, the vision of the McMillan Plan was raised
to the level of the symbolic ideal of the City Beautiful (“Dignity and
Beauty,” 53).
25. Burnham, “City of the Future,” 369.
26. Gourney, “Washington,” 117.
27. Hines, “Imperial Facade,” 35.
28. The plan for Cleveland was composed by Daniel Burnham, Arnold
Brunner, and John Carrére. A central feature of the plan was the cre-
ation of a 560-foot wide, 2,100-foot long mall (for a description, see
Abercrombie, “Cleveland,” 131–135).
29. Morley, “Cultural Expansion,” 237.
30. Burnham and Bennett, Plan of Chicago, 123.
31. Wilfley, “Our Duty,” 309.
32. In terms of environmental improvements, the Philippine Commission
Report observed that many difficulties were frequently encountered.
These included “the scarcity of skilled and common labour, the very
restricted local market for machine supplies, exorbitant prices charged
by private firms for machine work, and the great distance from home
market” (Third Annual Report, 252).
33. “Policy of Administration,” 4.
34. Moore, Daniel H. Burnham, 177.
35. Insular Division, War Department Records 2834/4, US National
Archives II, Maryland.
36. Journal, June 12, 1905; January 14, 1905, 131, 133, 160, 228, Forbes
Papers, Harvard University. On January 13, 1905, a sketch layout of
proposed streets at the harbor front was created by Burnham. One day
later, the plan for the boulevard to Cavite and the extension of the
Luneta (at a scale of 1 inch to 5,000 feet) was composed. On his return
journey back to the United States later that month, from Kyoto in
Japan, Burnham sent to the colonial government in the Philippines a
“Sketch Layout of Proposed Streets in Malate” to the same scale.
37. Act No. 22 was passed on October 15, 1900, to provide a fund of
$1,000,000 for the improvement of Manila’s port. By 1903, with the
passing of Amendment Acts, an additional sum of $2,000,000 was
granted to cover costs (Fifth Annual Report, 247). New bridges in
Manila included the Santa Cruz Bridge (opened 1902); existing bridges
(such as Ayala Bridge and Bridge of Spain) were widened. Asphalt as a
road-building material was first used by the Americans circa 1902–
1903 on bridges.
38. By 1904, the Americans had laid 14.55 kilometers (nine miles) of new
road in Manila. Pavements of wooden blocks, granite blocks, and mac-
adam were also constructed. In addition, ₱95,773.90 was spent on
resurfacing existing roadways in the city (Fifth Annual Report, 113–
114). Between May 28, 1904, and January 1905, demolition of the
Intramuros walls was undertaken (by prisoners) so as to widen
entrances into the district (115).
39. Because most houses in the city were nipa huts, fires periodically con-
sumed large areas. To counteract this threat, by 1903 a general scheme
of street extension was introduced. It was to open up new plots for
residential and business purposes in Ermita and Malate:
The system provides wide streets, admitting of sidewalks and a

small space for trees or parking. Sidewalks in Manila are almost
unknown, and the advantages to be gained from trees in a tropi-
cal country can not be overestimated, and yet, with very few
exceptions, this seems to have been overlooked by the Spanish

Government” (Annual Reports, 546).
40. In Manila, in 1903, fewer than 1,800 lights in buildings and on streets
were powered by electricity.
41. In 1902, the Insular Ice Plant and Cold Storage Building, designed by
Edgar Bourne, was used to distribute clean water throughout the city.
42. The first concrete steps to plan Manila appear in 1903 when the civil
governor, William H. Taft, petitioned the secretary of war to draw up
improvements in the city “with a view to art and utility” (Report of the
General-Governor, 88).
43. By 1908, the Bureau of Public Works had earmarked ₱780,000 for a
new hospital in Manila, and ₱250,000 for a medical school (War
Department Annual Reports, 353).
44. Environmental reform was used to instigate positive environmentalism
to transform the norms, values, and behavior of people (Boyer, Urban
Masses, 261–266).
45. The plan was to be implemented by the consulting architect, William
E. Parsons. He considered the role of undertaking Burnham’s plan “an
architect’s dream” (Journal, March 12, 1906, 392, Forbes Papers, Har-
vard University).
46. Cameron Forbes was central, in mid-1906, to passing a law that no
changes could be made environmentally in Manila without the author-
ity of the consultant architect (Journal, May 26, 1906, 16, Forbes Pa-
pers, Harvard University).
47. Fifth Annual Report, 151.
48. The population sizes for the city’s districts in 1903 were Binondo,
16,657; Ermita, 12,246; Intramuros, 11,460; Malate, 8,855; Paco,
6,691; Pandacan, 2,990; Quiapo, 11,139; Sampaloc, 18,772; San
Nicolas, 29,055; Santa Ana, 3,255; Sta. Cruz, 35,030; Tondo, 39,043.
The population for the Port Area was listed as zero (Census of the
Philippine Islands, Vol. 3, 130, 262–263, 293–294.
49. The implementation of the scheme was to be undertaken by the Bureau
of Public Works (BPW). Formed on November 1, 1905, after the pass-
ing of Act No. 1407 on October 26, 1905, the BPW was borne from
the merging of the Bureau of Engineering and Construction of Public
Works (established 1901) and the Bureau of Architecture and Con-
struction of Public Buildings (also formed in 1901). The BPW was
responsible for all state-funded architectural and planning schemes in
the Philippines.
50. Parsons, Burnham, 17. In March 1904, the passage of Act No. 1087
made ₱180,000 available for public works and improvements such as
the street system. By 1907, the streets in Manila extended for 146.5
kilometers (ninety-one miles). Of the total area of roadways at that
time, 1,360,354 square meters, approximately 96 percent of which
had been macadamized (Eighth Report, 106).
51. Burnham and Anderson, “Report on Improvement,” 628. The road-
way, a redeveloped thoroughfare originally heralding from the Spanish
colonial era, was named Dewey Boulevard as part of Manila’s post-
1905 renewal.
52. A budget of ₱300,000 was put aside to cover the cost of the seawall
along the boulevard.
54. Vegetation was said to run riot in the Philippines, but a notable feature
of the Philippine landscape was the mango tree and bamboos. The
mango tree was described as a “truly magnificent tree often of perfect
symmetry,” and the trees as “pleasing objects for the eye to rest on.”
Bamboos when clumped, were comparable to giant plumes of ostrich
feathers: “Nothing in the vegetable kingdom is more graceful” (Saw-
yer, Inhabitants, 4–5).
55. Burnham and Anderson, “Report on Improvement,” 628. The seven-
mile roadway was to be lined by four rows of mango trees, as well as
other tropical trees (Journal, January 5, 1905, 50, Forbes Papers, Har-
vard University).
56. One of the effects of suburban development was the rising cost of land.
Between 1910 and 1919, some suburbs saw land prices increase by
almost 1,200 percent. Although this generated taxable income for the
colonial government, it also meant a growth in slum areas within
Manila (Carman, “Carman Describes,” 10).
58. Ibid.; Journal, September 11, 1905, 443, Forbes Papers, Harvard Uni-
versity.
60. Manila Times, “Red Letter Day,” 4.
61. In 1908, the Philippine Legislature ordered a national survey of all
roads so as to estimate the cost of building a new national road net-
work. In 1916, a report was published stating that new roads would
cost ₱74,500,000 and would take seventeen years to complete (see
West, “Proposed Highway System,” 23–36).
63. Gerard Lico remarked on Manila by circa 1900 having the reputation
as the worst port in the Orient (Arkitekturang Filipino, 221).
64. By early 1905, $1.962 million had been spent on harbor improvements
and work on the Pasig River, such as dredging. The work was super-
vised by Major C. Townsend of the US Army Corps of Engineers (Fifth
Annual Report, 39–40).
65. In a letter dated April 4, 1905, to William H. Taft, Burnham wrote that
work on two 650-foot long wharfs along the Pasig River were to start
immediately (Burnham Collection, Chicago Art Institute Library).
66. The cleaning of esteros was carried out by the Bureau of Navigation
(“Esteros,” 25).
67. The train system was developed in the late 1800s as a result of British
investment in the Philippines. By the early 1900s, the national train
system was rudimentary at best. The primary train line in the country
was Manila to Dagupan, a distance of about 175 kilometers
(109 miles).
68. Burnham and Anderson, “Report on Improvement,” 634. Up to 1905,
large boats had to anchor approximately four kilometers (2.5 miles)
from shore. Vessels drawing up to thirteen feet could enter into the
Pasig River but docking facilities were extremely limited. In 1882, the
Spanish had employed a British engineer, W. S. Richardson, to improve
local docking facilities and although work began the effect of a ty-
phoon in 1890, combined with lax administration, meant the work
was largely unfinished by the fall of the Spanish Empire. Writing in
1899, John Foreman remarked that the scrap of built sea wall was “of
no use to trade or anyone” (Philippine Islands, 399).
70. The Bureau of Public Works, formed in 1905, was to manage the rede-
velopment of the city, and as part of its remit was to ensure esteros
were to be dredged to a depth of at least two meters (6.5 feet).
71. Burnham and Anderson, “Report on Improvement,” 634, 635.
72. By as early as 1902, public officials had noted the need for recreation
areas where the public could seek amusement and exercise (Third
Annual Report, 328).
73. By 1910, a new park of more than two hundred thousand square
meters (240,000 square yards) of open space had been opened in

Malate, and in the Tondo another of more than 150,000 square meters
(180,000 square yards) had also been opened.
75. Ibid.
76. Times, “America in the Philippines,” 7. The space, however, was also
used by the Spanish colonial government for public executions.
78. Times, “America in the Philippines,” 7.
80. Much of the local American press commented on the value of conserv-
ing the city wall: “We have within the city limits what very few cities
can claim, viz, an antique in the shape of an ancient walled city. It
would be a false idea of utility that would destroy these walls” (Manila
Times, “Manila,” 2).
81. Burnham and Anderson, “Report on Improvement,” 630–631. William
H. Taft, governor of the Philippines from 1901 to 1903, remarked that
unless the Americans could bring fresh water, public health, good
houses, schools, electricity, roads, a buoyant economy, and new public
institutions to the Philippines then the local population would con-
tinue to be “necessary savages, because society is impossible” (Karnow,
In Our Image, 218).
82. Governor-General William H. Taft was an advocate for dismantling
the entire wall structure surrounding the Intramuros. In his view, the
walls served no purpose “except to gratify the taste for the antique in
the tourist.” As to why the walls were not razed Maramag has sug-
gested bureaucratic wrangling: for Taft land about the Intramuros’
walls was under civil control; for the US Army the walls were military
structures, and so under their jurisdiction (see Maramag, “Urban His-
tory,” 193–194).
83. The declining importance of the district was demonstrated by the fall
in its land prices. Between 1903 and 1909 Intramuros land dropped in
value by 99 percent (see Municipal Board, Annual Report, 68–69).
84. During the Spanish colonial era, different districts of Manila had dif-
ferent readings in terms of their level of civilization: the Intramuros
represented to the Spaniards high civilization, the Extramuros was
apparently semicivilized, and the hilly terrain surrounding the city, as
with other mountainous parts of the Philippines, places resided in by
uncivilized peoples.
85. By 1914, construction of the new civic core had not begun owing to a
lack of funds (“Manila Capitol Buildings,” 358). The selected site for
the Government Group during the late Spanish colonial era was
known as Bagumbayan Field. It had by the late 1890s little public use:
it housed the ruins of a hospital building and a collection of small
buildings. A waterway, the Canal de Balate, was the only other feature
of note in the open space, and it filled into the moat about a fortifica-
tion of the Intramuros. To the west of the space, near the shoreline, was
the Luneta.
87. Construction of the public edifices was projected to begin in 1909, and
were to be designed by the consulting architect, William E. Parsons. On
May 21, 1909, a concrete block was symbolically placed on the spot
where the center of the Capitol’s dome was to be located. However, it
was not until February 1912 that plans and sections of the civic cen-
ter’s buildings were submitted to the legislature. The cost of the Gov-
ernment Group was put, at that time, at ₱6,113,605.80. In 1912 the
legislature deferred action on the Capitol complex (Maramag, “Urban
History,” 226–267).
89. The Capitol’s cost was estimated to be ₱1,650,000 (“Manila Capitol
Buildings,” 358).
91. The implementation of spaces and buildings was left to the consultant
architect, William E. Parsons, who was employed within the Bureau of
Public Works. The train station, of neoclassical design, was built in
1914 to a design by Parsons (Dakudao, “Imperial Consulting Archi-
tect,” 39).
92. In 1903, a number of new rail lines were proposed by the Philippine
Commission. These lines, in Central Luzon, were to pass through, or
near to, places such as Caloocan, Bocave, Baliuag, Batangas, San Ilde-
fonso, Meycauayan, Aritao, Bayombong, Ilagan, Aparri, Cabanatuan,
Pantabangan, and Tumauini. The total cost for engineering was esti-
mated at almost $6.7 million (Annual Reports, 399–400). The prob-
lem of torrential rains in the Philippines, and the damage it caused,
meant that road maintenance was about equal to the cost of road con-
struction in many provinces, plus the problem of obtaining ‘good road
material’ led the Philippine Commission to believe that it was “more
important in these islands to have railroads than wagon roads” (8).
93. Doeppers, Feeding Manila, 131–132, 155–156.
94. Burnham, “Report on Proposed”, 12, 15, 16–17.
95. Jonathan Best notes that the Americans “wanted their buildings to be
both imposing and publicly accessible, in sharp contrast to the walled
enclaves and conventos of the Spaniards” (“Empire Builders,” 29).
97. Times, “America in the Philippines,” 7.
98. The decision to site the Army and Navy Club on the south side of the
New Luneta was that of Cameron Forbes. In a letter from Burnham to
Forbes dated August 7, 1905, he remarked, “I think your idea of mak-
ing the Army and Navy Club occupy the south side of the new Luneta
is admirable” (Burnham Collection, Chicago Art Institute Library).
99. Burnham and Anderson, “Report on Improvement,” 633. Construction
was overseen by the Manila Hotel Company. It was authorized by the
colonial government to raise bonds, such as in 1914, to the amount of
₱1 million to cover all costs.
100. Miller, Interesting Manila, 45.
101. Burnham and Anderson, “Report on Improvement,” 627, 635.
102. Doeppers, “Manila’s Imperial Makeover,” 490.
103. Cosgrove, Social Formation, 26.
105. The monument was designed by Richard Kissling, a Swiss national. A
budget of more than ₱135,000 was raised to cover costs of building the
memorial. Act No. 243 (1901) granted the right to use public land in
Central Manila for the purpose of commemorating Jose Rizal. The Act
stated any memorial must include a statue of Rizal.
106. Palma, “Inaugural Address,” 57–72.
107. Constantino, “Veneration,” 7–9.
108. Delmendo, Star Entangled Banner, 22.
109. Duque, “Militarization,” 49.
110. Ibid., 53–54.
111. In June 1905, proposals were advertised in Manila and Washington,
DC, for bids to construct eleven rail lines totaling more than
1,100 miles. Of these, 430 miles were to be built in Luzon Island (Sev-
enth Annual Report, 204–207).
112. Worcester, History.
113. Duque, “Militarization,” 56–59.
114. Schmid, “Henri Lefebvre’s Theory,” 28.
115. In the opinion of Hughes-Hallet, heroes, especially dead ones, are use-
fully compliant: “their images have been pressed into service as often
by revolutionaries as by defenders of authoritarianism. A vigorous
counter-tradition celebrates the popular hero, the man of the people
who challenges elitist power and privilege, the plucky little fellow who
slays the giant with nothing but a pebble in a sling” (Hughes-Hallett,
Heroes, 10).
116. Act 243 stipulated the necessity of creating a committee to oversee the
establishment of the Rizal monument, and subsequently those selected
(by the Americans) to make up this group included Ariston Bautista,

Juan Tuason, Paciono Rizal—brother of the fallen hero, Pascual
Poblete, Mariano Limjap, Maximo Paterno, and Teodoro Yangco. Part
of the committee’s task was to raise funds to pay for the monument,
and organize a design competition—held between 1905 and 1907.
117. A 1912 article titled “Two Peoples Before Rizal” in El Ideal stated that
the mausoleum fronting Manila Bay was “a monument to the memory
of the Apostle of Filipino liberties and the seal and apotheosis of the
unbreakable friendship and alliance of two peoples whom Destiny has
joined” (see Elliott Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, DC).
Monuments erected to the memory of Rizal, sited in proximity to pub-
lic edifices, can be found in settlements such as Pasay, Marikina City,
Quezon City, Baguio, Rosales, Villasis, Llorente, Basey, MacArthur,
Ginoporlos, Iloilo, Tacloban, Panay, Calamba City, Muñoz, Lucban,
Baliwag, Carigara, Sta. Cruz, Rizal, San Pablo City, Mabitac, Badoc,
Paoay, Caba, San Juan, Dolores, Dasmariñas, Daet, Romblon, Her-
mani, Balangiga, Balangkayan, Quinapondan, Taytay, San Jose, Ragay,
and Miagao.
118. “Provoking Luxury” (Elliott Papers, Library of Congress, Washington,
DC).
119. “Embellishment of Manila” (Elliott Papers, Library of Congress, Wash-
ington, DC).
120. Translated editorial comment in El Commerio, August 16, 1912
(Elliott Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, DC).
121. Ashcroft, Griffiths, and Tiffin, Postcolonial Studies Reader, 9.
Chapter 4. Baguio: The United States’ City Beautiful in the Philippine Uplands
1. Epigraph. Philippine Review, “Baguio,” 75.
Public Land Act 926 of 1904 permitted ten square miles of land to be
reserved for developing the summer capital city (Manila Times,
“Fence,” 1; Forbes, Philippine Islands, Vol. 1, 572).
2. Baguio was designated the summer capital city on June 1, 1903. It was
incorporated as a city on September 1, 1909.
3. Vernon, “Daniel Burnham,” 10.
4. Burnham and Anderson, “Preliminary Plan,” 405–406.
5. Parsons, “Burnham,” 17, 25.
6. From as early as July 1900, it was apparent that the US colonial
relationship with the Philippines would break from the canons of
traditional colonialism and was nonpermanent (McHale, “Develop-
ment,” 65).
7. The first American-era governor of Benguet Province was H. P. Whit-

marsh, who heralded from England but had spent time living in Aus-
tralia. Arriving in the Philippines in 1898 as a correspondent for Out-
look Magazine, Whitmarsh by 1900 had been appointed provincial
governor. His first official task was to transfer the provincial capital
from La Trinidad to Baguio, and to engage with the Igorots to end
head-hunting. In later years, he became involved in the development of
gold mining in Baguio, and the development of ornamental gardens
(54). During both the Spanish and American colonial eras in the Philip-
pines the Igorots were considered as an “other,” uncivilized peoples of
the Philippines (Aguilar-Cariño, “The Igorot”). In the mid-1800s, a
Spanish official, Sinbaldo de Mas, remarked of the native population of
the Philippines that colonial rule was sustained in such a way by Spain
so as to keep the population in an intellectual and moral state whereby,
despite their numerical superiority, they would weigh less than a bar of
gold (Said, Culture and Imperialism, 195). William Henry Scott added
that the Spanish, as a consequence of only bringing Christianity to cer-
tain regions of the Philippines, created a distinction between the char-
acter of lowland and highland indios (natives) (Scott, Bacon, and Root,
Military and Colonial Policy, 7). The lowland Filipino, for instance,
was characterized by submission, conversion, and civilization. The
upland Filipino by independence, savagery, and paganism.
8. A bill to endorse the 1905 Baguio plan was composed by Philippine
Commissioner W. Cameron Forbes and was enacted as Act No. 1495.
As part of the decree, William E. Parsons was charged with its interpre-
tation and implementation.
9. Mitchell, “Imperial Landscape,” 7, 13.
10. Cosgrove, Social Formation, 13.
11. Hoganson, Fighting, 157.
12. Stanley, “Voice of Worcester,” 125.
13. Cameron Forbes stated that, with reference to military events in 1898,
had the Americans left the Philippines at that time anarchy and blood-
shed would have prevailed among Filipinos (Journal, August 13, 1904,
Forbes Papers, Harvard University).
14. Benedict Anderson, on the lack of societal evolution in the Philippines
instigated during the Spanish colonial era, stated that by about 1900
few countries “give the observer a deeper feeling of historical vertigo
than the Philippines” (Spectre of Comparisons, 227).
15. As part of the taming of the “wild people” in Baguio, Burnham stressed
the need for basic utilities such as gas, electricity, sewerage removal,
and clean water to be sourced from the nearby Agno River (Alarcon,
Imperial Tapestry, 71).
16. President Roosevelt in a letter to Cameron Forbes on April 6, 1915,
stated, in relation to US colonial governance in the Philippines, that
there “is no use of speaking of abstract principles unless we apply them
in concrete” (BMS AM1364, 247, Forbes Papers, Harvard University).
The process of cultural estrangement brought about by colonial rule
states Fanon intended to convince natives that colonialism lightens
their darkness. As such colonial rule protects the colonized population
from themselves (Fanon, “National Culture,” 37).
17. Burnham during his time in the Philippines spent nine days studying
the terrain of Baguio (see Resurreccion, Baguio City; Cullinane, “Bring-
ing on the Brigands,” 52–54).
18. In 1904, the death rate in the provinces was 26.10. By 1910, it had
dropped to 18.85. The infant mortality rate in the provinces dropped
from 203.71 in 1904 to 147.55 by 1910 (“Interesting Data on the
Philippines,” BMS AM1364, 4, Forbes Papers, Harvard University).
19. Reed, City of Pines, 49–50.
20. During the 1800s, both fictional and nonfictional texts highlighted the
danger of crossing the boundary from “civilized” to “noncivilized” ter-
ritories and people. To engage with native peoples was, potentially, un-
hinging (Loomba, Colonialism/Postcolonialism, 136). Public health
problems associated with environmental degradation in colonial set-
tings are frequently viewed by those in positions of power as being,
aside from the threat to people’s physiological security, a threat to
colonial economies (Grove, “Colonial State,” 210).
21. Stickney, Admiral Dewey, 188. Because of illness among American
troops, the US military took an interest in the concept of creating an
upland retreat, and consequently purchased a 550-acre tract of land in
Baguio that was, from 1906, developed into Camp John Hay
(“Baguio,” Far Eastern Review).
22. Osterhammel highlights the premise within colonization to construct
an inferior “otherness” of the colonized population. As anthropologi-
cal counterparts the colonized population are thus understood to have
inferior mental and physical capabilities which accordingly renders
them incapable of large-scale cultural accomplishments (Osterhammel,
Colonialism, 108–109).
23. Kane, Baguio, 8. The lack of roads in the Philippines was considered by
the Americans as a major drawback to the material prosperity of local
society (Congressman Martin’s Speech, Office of the Supervising Rail-
way Expert, Department of Commerce and Police, Manila, August 29,

1910, BMS AM1364, 4, Forbes Papers, Harvard University).
24. The notion of making model cities, both at Baguio and Manila, was
evident in press reporting of Burnham’s urban plans. The Manila
Times, in particular, devoted much attention to the need to both
cleanse and beautify Philippine towns and cities (“Trend of the City’s
Growth,” 3; Wilson, “Burnham,” 14).
25. Letter from Stimson, September 11, 1911, BMS AM1364, 265, Forbes
Papers, Harvard University.
26. Philippine Review, “Baguio,” 75.
27. Burnham sent his initial sketch map of Baguio, which he composed
while sailing from Hong Kong to Yokohama, to Forbes from Kyoto,
Japan, in late January 1905.
28. Burnham and Anderson, “Plan of Baguio,” 197. The hills had an eleva-
tion between one hundred and two hundred feet from the valley floor
(197). As farmers of wild strawberries, the Igorots were to sell their
produce in the market building. Their ability to collect money for their
wares was to help lift them out of a lifestyle historically defined by
poverty. It would also help acculturate them into Western culture,
namely capitalist economics (405).
29. Ibid., 405.
30. Letter to William H. Taft, October 6, 1905, Burnham Collection, Chi-
cago Art Institute Library.
31. Elliott, “City Transformed,” 42–43.
32. Sonne, Representing the State, 92.
33. Burnham and Anderson, “Plan of Baguio,” 405.
34. Ibid.
35. Moses, “American Control.”
36. Under the Charter of Baguio, the mayor had to possess executive abil-
ity as a city engineer. This strategy was to guarantee the undertaking of
high-quality infrastructure at Baguio.
37. The Filipino elites were not a united group in the first decade of Amer-
ican colonial rule. Divided politically and ideologically, the elites were
also partitioned by differences in wealth, ethnicity, social position,
geography, levels of education, and employment. The most educated,
the largely Manila based ilustrados, held visions of national unity and
viewed a number of martyrs killed by the Spanish as national heroes
(Cullinane, Ilustrado Politics, 52–54).
38. Finin, Making of the Igorot, 13. In the lowland regions, US colonial
rule was strengthened by alliances with cacique Filipino families who
had prominence under Spanish rule. In the Cordillera American inter-

vention was different in that it was much more direct (42).
39. Anderson, Imagined Communities, 15–16.
40. Finin, Making of the Igorot, 19–20.
41. Ibid., 67.
42. Forbes was a Philippine commissioner between 1904 and 1908, vice
governor-general of the Philippines in 1908, and governor-general
from 1909 to 1913.
43. The credit for the inception of American architecture and city planning
in the Philippines belongs to William H. Taft, who as secretary of war
instructed Forbes to seek advice on the subject (Rebori, “William E.
Parsons,” 309).
44. Between 1904 and 1905, Forbes visited Baguio a number of times to
determine the “real needs” of the new settlement (Reed, City of Pines,
109–110).
45. Journal, August 9, 1904, FMS AM1365, 50, Forbes Papers, Harvard
University.
46. Journal, August 22, 1904, FMS AM1365, 50, Forbes Papers, Harvard
University.
47. The city’s municipal charter was formed with only thirty-two codes—
in contrast, Manila’s had eighty-eight and New York’s had 1,620—so
as to ensure the simple working of local government (see Malcolm,
“Baguio Yesterday,” 6).
48. As a place intended to improve health standards in the Philippines the
Bureau of Lands in 1908 conducted an experiment to appreciate the
practical effects of sending both Americans and Filipinos to Baguio.
Findings included peoples’ weight increased, and work output improved.
49. Forbes commented that the American engineers utilized the knowledge
of the Igorots as to where to lay out the roadway. This advice, among
other things, was noted as helping save construction costs (Forbes,
Philippine Islands, 582).
50. The construction of this road was a financial disaster. An engineer,
Charles Mead, was employed from 1900 to accomplish the task, and
upon his recommendations $75,000 was immediately given to pay for
costs. Mead estimated the road could be built in six months yet the
$75,000 budget was spent before a survey of the road’s location had
been undertaken. When completed in 1905, the Benguet Road had cost
almost $2,000,000.
51. Ellem, “No Little Plans,” 109–110. Regulations were strictly enforced
by the local constabulary. Prostitution, public drunkenness, and jay-
walking, for instance, were forbidden, and with the arrival of cars new
rules were introduced to stipulate where they could be parked. Parking
on the sides of roadways was forbidden.
52. Journal, December 10, 1911, FMS AM1365, 78, Forbes Papers, Har-
vard University.
53. From late May 1906, plots within the bounds of Baguio were sold for
private houses. The money raised was directly invested into construct-
ing infrastructure projects such as road building. Road-building at the
time was not directly financed by the Philippine Commission because
of the political fallout of the excessive cost of constructing the Benguet
Road. To thus avoid further political criticism, the commission was
hesitant to release large sums of funds. With regard to the sale of plots
in Baguio, purchasers had to erect houses within a short period of time
(Forbes, Philippine Islands, 566–583).
54. Ibid., 573.
55. Journal, May 5, 1906, FMS AM1365, 78, Forbes Papers, Harvard Uni-
versity.
56. Under Public Land Act 926, no one was permitted to purchase more
than two plots in Baguio (either for residential or business use). Money
earned from the sale of land was used to defray the public expense of
developing Baguio.
58. Rebori, “William E. Parsons,” 309.
59. Forbes described the government center in March 1910: “[It] is a won-
derful success. . . . It seems as though Haube had Aladdin and his won-
derful lamp licked to a frazzle. We have nine large buildings, seven of
which are built round a quadrangle open at the end towards Baguio.
The center is parked; there are roads, walks, terraces, trees, plants and
bushes growing” (“Notes on Early History,” 37).
60. Buildings were to sit below summits so that trees would mark the high-
est elevations in the city, and so provide a silhouette characterized by
nature rather than architecture.
61. Burnham and Anderson, “Plan of Baguio,” 198–199.
62. Brody, “Building Empire,” 132. A number of schemes were put forward
to bring the Igorots into the fold of American civilization. This
included, in 1905, the creation of a government-funded horse breeding
program, an Industrial School for boys (within the Teacher’s Camp),
and the suggestion of establishing a military school given the Igorot
reputation for fierce fighting.
63. Rabinow, French Modern, 169–170.
64. Morley, “Modern Urban Designing,” 32–34.

65. De Certeau, Practice of Everyday Life, 94.
66. Lico, Arkitekturang Filipino, 256. The greater emphasis on the plan’s
central axis reasserted Burnham’s intention to establish Baguio’s urban
form as a miniature version of L’Enfant’s plan for Washington, DC
(Hines, Burnham of Chicago, 209).
67. Brody, “Building Empire,” 133.
68. Ibid.; Foucault, Discipline and Punish, 199–200.
69. Pratt, Imperial Eyes, 6.
72. Lico, “Imagining,” 44; Sonne, Representing the State, 93.
73. Hines, “American Modernism,” 320.
74. Lico, “Imagining,” 46.
75. Carman, “Carman Describes,” 10.
76. In late 1905, the colonial government reorganized itself. Each province
now had to have a district engineer who reported directly to the B
ureau
of Public Works based in Manila.
77. The Americans found that existing road surfaces were easily broken by
the carts Filipinos used for transporting goods and people. Using (from
1905) prisoners in Manila as laborers a program was instigated to
build higher quality wheels for carts, and to manufacture tires for their
use. The use of sledges to drag cargo along roads was also prohibited
(Forbes, Philippine Islands, 381).
78. What the Americans labeled first-class roads in the Philippines mea-
sured by as late as 1907 just 303 miles. By 1913, another thousand
miles had been laid out (Forbes, Philippine Islands, 369).
79. For an explanation of the American approach to road building in the
Philippines, see West, “A Proposed Highway System.”
80. To calculate the economic value of each road, a sum of two cents per
kilometer traversed each day by wheeled transport was awarded by
the Bureau of Public Works.
81. Cost of road repairs per kilometer were set at $175. This covered the
cost of materials and labor costs (Ninth Annual Report, 344, 450–
451).
82. Urban wheeled traffic in the early 1900s was largely by horse and cart,
though in rural locales water buffalo and carts were commonplace.
However, from 1903, motor vehicles arrived in Manila. Act No. 2159
was passed in February 1912 to regulate the licensing and registering
of cars. The nature of the act was based on existing law in the United
States. To demonstrate to Filipino governors the poor quality of road-

ways within their jurisdiction, American officials would often drive
them at speed over badly maintained roads. Putting the governors in
the back seats of these bump rides not only demonstrated the need for
road improvement but catalyzed civic pride. Rivalry between neigh-
boring settlements and provinces consequently often resulted as such
experiences. Moreover if dignitaries were coming to visit Filipino gov-
ernors often asked for “volunteer labor” to clean or repair roads so
that they could show off the “civilized nature” of their town or city to
visitors.
83. By 1909, 2,837 miles of first-class roads existed in the Philippines
(West, “A Proposed Highway System,” 23).
84. Carman, “Carman Describes,” 10.
85. The general development of the city was overseen by a committee com-
prising circa 1905 of the secretary of the interior (Dean Worcester),
secretary of commerce and police (Cameron Forbes), consulting archi-
tect (William E. Parsons), director of forest (George Ahern), and the
governor of Benguet Province (William Pack) (Journal, Vol. 2, 203,
March 30, 1907, FMS AM1365, Forbes Papers, Harvard University).
86. The budget to build the house, and develop the 25-acre site into a land-
scaped garden, was set at $15,000.
87. Reed, City of Pines, 124.
88. Act No. 2 passed in mid-September 1900 permitted $5,000 to survey
the route for a train to North Luzon.
89. The final cost of the road was approximately $2.6 million, and pro-
voked major criticism within both the American and Filipino commu-
nities. However, the vital role of Major Lyman Kennon (of the US
Army Corps of Engineers) in ensuring the road came to completion
saw Forbes recommend him in April 1905 to J. Pierpont Morgan for
the construction of the Canton-Hankow railway in China (Forbes,
Philippine Islands, 13).
90. As part of the development of Baguio a military camp and a teachers’
camp was established. Approval for the teachers’ camp was given in
January 1908 on a twenty-hectare site known by the Igorots as Oren-
gano.
92. In 1913, it was said of the Igorots, in relation to the development of
Baguio, that they “are getting from the presence of the city here an
opportunity to earn money and better their condition to an extent
never before known in the history of the Islands. They draw higher
wages, get more regular work, and are reaping corresponding advan-
tages” (Teachers’ Assembly Herald, “Baguio,” 14).
94. Ibid., 200. Place names in Baguio were both American and indigenous
in origin. American names included Outlook, North Drive, South
Drive, and so on, and indigenous place names included Pakdal, Bua,
and Guisad.
95. Ibid., 201.
96. The William E. and Myra L. Parsons Papers at Yale University make
little reference to planning activities in Baguio.
98. Osmeña, “Impressions,” 2.
99. El Ideal, “Between Americans and Filipinos.”
100. La Vanguardia, “ Theory.”
101. One prominent Filipino nationalist who liked Baguio immensely
was Emilio Aguinaldo: “He is very enthusiastic about Baguio and
says it has his vote for permanent capital of the archipelago” (Jour-
nal, May 16, 1913, 235, FMS AM1365, Forbes Papers, Harvard
University).
102. La Vanguardia, “Provoking Luxury.”
103. Ibid.
104. El Ideal, “Baguio the Sublime”; “Goings and Comings.”
105. El Ideal, “Irony of Baguio.”
106. El Ideal, “Baguio the Sublime.”
107. Ibid.
108. Ileto, “America’s Colony,” 22.
109. Taft considered these two urban plans as exercises not so much in plan-
ning as in public art (“Daniel Hudson Burnham,” 184).
110. Under Act No. 1873 (passed in 1908) the Office of the Consulting Ar-
chitect comprised the consultant architect, an assistant, a chief drafts-
man, four other draftsmen, two clerks, eight junior draftsmen, and a
messenger (War Department, 1908, Vol. 9, 105).
Chapter 5. Regional Capital Plans and Provincial Civic Centers

1. Epigraph. In the Philippines, 31–32.
Forbes, Philippine Islands, Vol. 1, 368–369.
2. Russell, “Public Works,” 10.
3. The census revealed that the island’s population was 653,727 people
(Fifth Annual Report, 466).
4. Under the American-led civil government the Philippines, two hundred

ports were open for domestic and international trade (Kwok-Chu, The
Chinese, 85).
5. In 1904, it was estimated that work on the port would cost $350,000.
Work was completed by April 1908 (What Has Been Done, 35; War
Department, 1908, Part 2, 363).
6. On May 28, 1906, the Philippine Commission granted concession for
the Philippine Railway Corporation to construct new rail lines on the
islands of Cebu, Negros, and Panay.
7. War Department, 1908, Part 2, 363.
8. The Spanish colonial core, discounting churches, government build-
ings, and a fort at the seafront, was made up largely of small-scale busi-
ness premises (Conejos, Strategic Plan, 12).
9. War Department, 1907, 136.
10. Russell, “Public Works,” 16.
11. “The Spanish had named them Moros because of their resemblance to
the Moors of North Africa, even though they represented a dozen or so
different ethnic groups—each led by a local sultan or self-styled
prophet” (Karnow, In Our Image, 194).
12. From August 1903 to June 1905, the provincial engineer was Captain
Charles Keller; from June 1905 to January 1906, Captain F. R. McCoy;
from February 1906 to August 1907, Captain J. P. Jervey; from August
1907 to November 1908, Captain W. B. Ladue; from November 1908
to July 1910, C. F. Vance; from August 1910 to March 1912, Captain
Paul Bond; and from March 1912 to February 1914, V. R. Stirling.
13. Much road maintenance and road building was undertaken by Muslim
or tribal volunteers “who became imbued with the spirit and enthusi-
asm shown by many of the district governors in this work” (Cameron,
“Public Works,” 21).
14. By 1908, the annual cost of provincial road and bridge building funds
exceeded ₱2,000,000 (War Department, 1908, Part 2, 342).
15. Cameron, “Public Works,” 19.
16. The Americans had a policy of permanent construction. Walls for
building were, under this guiding principle, to be constructed of rein-
forced concrete along with “durable hard native woods.” Galvanized
iron roofs were used not for aesthetics—Spanish tile roofs were pre-
ferred—but for economy. Overall the Americans intended to create
“public buildings comparing favourably with the monumental charac-
ter of those erected by the Spaniards” (War Department, 1908, Part 2,
353–354).
17. Metcalf, “Colonial Cities,” 758.

18. Cullinane split Filipino elites into three categories: provincial elites,
urban elites, and urban middle sectors. Provincial elites typically

owned large land holdings, and influenced the broader society through
the exertion of power commonly within economic frameworks. Such
elites made up less than 1 percent of the population of any province.
Urban elites arose out of small commercially orientated Chinese mes-
tizo communities and lived a culturally cosmopolitan lifestyle. The
urban middle sectors, in contrast, came from a variety of socio

economic and cultural backgrounds, and tended to be engaged in com-
mercial or bureaucratic operations within urban centres. In Cebu, for
instance, by the 1890s one thousand citizens made up this exclusive
social group (Cullinane, Ilustrado Politics, 20–22).
19. Report of the Philippine Commission, 80–106.
20. Cameron described the building as occupying about one-third of a
four-thousand-square-meter site, and as being constructed of native
woods and cut coral. It was said by the early 1900s to be “much too
small for present needs” (“Provincial Centres,” 7).
22. Cody, Exporting American Architecture, 39.
23. Thomas Hines reveals that Parsons’ buildings were superior to Spanish
Revival schemes designed by his contemporaries in the United States.
Adding that the most interesting aspect of Parsons’ designing was “his
achievement in forging a significant ‘modern’ architecture from an-
other Spanish colonial tradition—from the Spanish interaction with an
Asiatic people, thousands of miles in another hemisphere from the
Spanish colonial legacies in the southern part of North America”
(Hines, “American Modernism,” 316).
25. Parsons, “Burnham,” 13, 14, 17.
26. Municipal governments under the American colonial governmental
system were formed from 1900. The system was described as follows:
“It is a government by the people of the town. It opens the power to
govern to all the people by providing every man who learns to read
and write may vote. Getting the right to help govern depends upon
each man himself and not upon the choice of a few rulers of the town”
(O’McGoverney, Civil Government, 90).
27. Hines, “American Modernism,” 319; Lico, Arkitekturang Filipino, 257.
29. All local governments (outside Manila) operated under the Municipal
Code: “It tells how many and what officials of a town shall have, what
their powers and duties and how they shall be elected. It tells what
taxes shall be collected. It also tells what kind of laws the municipal
government may make. The Municipal Code is like a book which tells
how to make a watch and have it run well” (O’McGoverney, Civil
Government, 92–93). Municipal governments were intended (by the
Americans) to represent all the people. As such the public controlled
the government, not only in the sense of being able to vote for who
they wish to represent them, but through these representatives estab-
lishing policy/local regulations beneficial to all (90–91). Duties of local
governments included building and repairing streets and erecting nec-
essary public buildings. Under the Municipal Code, all cities were ex-
pected to be “clean and healthful.” Because municipalities of more than
twenty-five thousand people had eighteen councillors under the Muni
cipal Code, existing Spanish-era government offices were often too
small. As a result a necessary action of many local governments was to
erect new public offices (with assistance from the BPW).
30. Nagano, State and Finance, 9; Wilson, Ambition and Identity, 56.
31. The first modern banks in the Philippines were the Chartered Bank of
India, Australia and China, which opened its first branch in Manila in
1873, and the Hong Kong Shanghai Banking Corporation, which
began local operations in 1875.
32. Nagano, State and Finance, 9.
33. Mojares, Casa Gorordo, 20.
34. The process of assimilation was aided by some Chinese allowing a
padrino (sponsor) at baptism, usually a prominent Spaniard, and then
assuming the padrino’s family name. As a result many prominent Cebu
families had both a Spanish and Chinese branch to their family tree.
35. Doeppers, “Development,” 769.
36. In the context of a socially fractured city, the rise of the Parian came at
the cost of the native Filipino population who, from the mid-1800s,
became increasingly disconnected and so anonymous to local eco-
nomic and trade activities.
37. Nagano, State and Finance, 42.
38. McGee, Southeast Asian City, 85.
39. The damage from the March 11, 1905, fire was estimated at $1,000,000
(Straits Times, “Fire at Cebu,” 8). The process of rebuilding the city
included improving local sanitation and hygiene because in 1903 Cebu
Island had been subject to a smallpox epidemic (Fifth Annual Report,

486).
40. Hardman, “City Planning.”
41. Seventh Annual Report, 341.
42. The condition of roads within Cebu in 1903 were “in a deplorable
state”: “The dust of many of the streets during the dry season is almost
choking, and during the rainy spell the streets are flooded owing to the
fact that most of the sewers are choked up and that the sewerage sys-
tem is very defective” (Third Report, 808).
43. Parsons located the new civic core at the northern end of a new, monu-
mental roadway called Jones Avenue, later renamed Osmeña Boule-
vard. The roadway was an extension of an existing thoroughfare, Juan
Luna Street, but was considerably wider than the thoroughfare that
previously existed.
44. A new bridge was built over the rail line. The rail line, to simplify, acted
as the western boundary marker between old Cebu and modern Cebu.
45. The neoclassical building was designed by Juan Arellano and com-
pleted in 1938. An inscription on its central facade reads “The author-
ity of the government emanates from the people.”
46. By 1914, the meeting point of the axes of the three boulevards was
marked by Osmeña Fountain, a structure constructed from concrete
(Cameron, “Provincial Centres,” 7).
47. Vernon, “Daniel Burnham’s,” 9.
48. Jack McCallum describes late-1800s Zamboanga: “The delightful
small city sits at the southernmost tip of a peninsula jutting into the
Sulu Sea like an outsized right claw of crab-shaped Mindanao. Backed
up against steep mountains and washed with a constant sea breeze, it
has the finest coastal climate in the Philippines” (Leonard Wood, 212).
49. Hawkins, Making Moros, 3. Islam arrived in Mindanao via traders in
the fourteenth century (Arcilla, Formation, 94).
50. Arcilla, Formation, 94.
51. American claim of Mindanao heralded from the Bates Treaty of 1899.
By 1903, a law was passed—Public Land Act No. 718—to nullify land
grants held hitherto by datus (Hofileña, Under the Stacks, 74).
52. Hawkins, Making Moros, 9.
53. Zamboanga was situated within the Province of Misamis. The popula-
tion in the countryside surrounding the city was estimated in 1901 to
be 80,000 and spoke seven languages (Report of the Philippine Com-
mission, 108–109).
54. Given their lack of knowledge about the people of Mindanao, the
Americans used Spanish sources, such as “Las Islas Filipinas, Mind-
anao” by Francisco y Ponce de Leon and Julian Gonzales Parredes, to
understand the composition and culture of the peoples of the island.
According to this source, published in 1898, the population of Mind-
anao was 1,187,000, of whom 325,000 were Christian, 262,000 were
pagan tribes, and 600,000 were Muslim (Letter, Brigadier General
George W. David to Headquarters Department Mindanao and Jolo,
October 14, 1901, Box 317, John J. Pershing Papers, Library of Con-
gress).
55. Abinales, Making Mindanao, 19; Far Eastern Review, “Improvement
and Extension,” 384.
56. Much economic activity took place in the form of barter (Fifth Annual
Report, 9).
57. Chinese documents showing trade relations between the Chinese main-
land and communities in the Philippine Archipelago, including Mind-
anao, date from the early-thirteenth century CE, late Song dynasty
(See, Tsinoy, 24).
58. McCoy, Policing America’s Empire, 210–214.
60. Kramer, Blood of Government; Hawkins, Making Moros; Welch,
Response; Karnow, In Our Image; Go, American Empire, 2008.
61. Kramer, Blood of Government, 162.
63. Ibid., 27.
64. Onofre Corpuz reveals that the Americans’ denigratory perception of
Muslim Filipino culture meant that the word “Moro” imparted a mix-
ture of fear, distrust, and sense of cultural superiority (Roots, 596).
65. The Bureau existed until 1936.
66. Hawkins, Making Moros. Governor Wood believed that the importa-
tion of American progressivism into Mindanao would help influence
the development of national spirit, one that could transcend “sectional,
class, and nationality group differences” (Huntington, Soldier and the
State, 280).
67. Diokno, “Benevolent Assimilation,” 92–93.
68. Abinales, Making Mindanao, 18–19.
69. As the 1900s unfolded, in ethnographic terms the Americans perceived
Filipinos as being closely related: “From the ethnological standpoint,
however, the outstanding fact about the Filipino people is not diversity,
but homogeneity. In blood and ancestry they are at least as unified as
are the inhabitants of Great Britain, France, Spain, or the United States.
When the Government of the Philippines seeks to arouse among all of
the native inhabitants of the Archipelago a consciousness of Philippine
citizenship and devotion to a Philippine state, it is appealing to a peo-
ple already united by one of the most fundamental of ties, that of blood
relationship” (Hayden, The Philippines, 12, 14).
70. By early 1904 in Zamboanga, landscape transitions were occurring in
the settlement: “Zamboanga itself is growing in beauty and activity.
Along the streets [Governor] Wood has planted lines of coconut palms.
He has converted the stream that runs through the town into a broad
lagoon filled with lotus flowers” (Hagedorn, Leonard Wood, 58).
71. “The system of roads in the plan provide communication along the
waterfront and in three lines converge on a public plaza at the centre of
the city. . . . There is also a broad avenue forming practically the perim-
eter of the present town site and intersecting the radiating avenues”
(Far Eastern Review, “Improvement and Extension,” 384).
72. Hines, “American Modernism,” 319.
73. Far Eastern Review, “Improvement and Extension,” 384.
74. Best, “Empire Builders,” 31; Far Eastern Review, “Improvement and
Extension,” 384.
75. Antonio Orendain describes the building as “the most venerable of the
town’s ancient institutions.” The buildings about Rizal Park and the
nearby Plaza Pershing, where the city’s largest private buildings were
sited, are further discussed in relation to their outstanding visual qual-
ity (Orendain, Zamboanga Hermosa, 62).
76. Majul, Contemporary Muslim, 20.
77. Hagedorn, Leonard Wood, 2. American ventures to stimulate the econ-
omy in Zamboanga and its hinterland, such as by building new
wharves in the port and inland roads, began in the opening years of the
twentieth century. As a result, by 1905 once warlike tribes people liv-
ing in the foothills about the city were trading goods in larger quanti-
ties than ever before, and at higher prices. Other Filipinos who never
before traded in the city were by this time bringing goods to sell, and
merchants in Manila were complaining that the Hong Kong trade was
now bypassing the national capital for Zamboanga (57–58).
78. One of the major features of the early success of the Moro Province
was economic advancement, a process integral to the civilizing quest.
After 1903 trade within Mindanao, between the island and other Phil-
ippine islands, and between Mindanao Borneo, Singapore, and Austra-
lia raised substantially. By 1906, Zamboanga was the island’s top port
in terms of customs revenue (Abinales, Making Mindanao, 20–21).
79. Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe, 47.
80. Buenconsejo, “Beyond the Local,” 58.
81. After the end of the Philippine-American War in 1902, the American
colonial administration allowed the formation of political parties,
trade unions, non-Catholic religious organizations, new newspapers,
and cooperative commercial societies. In many cities, this encouraged
nationalist sentiment to emerge (McCoy, “Culture and Conscious-
ness,” 167–168).
82. Buenconsejo, “Beyond the Local,” 64–65.
83. Stanek, Henri Lefebvre, 81.
84. Lefebvre, Production of Space, 341–342.
85. Stanek, Henri Lefebvre, 155–156.
86. Philippine patriotism and nationhood was a central theme in the writ-
ing of many ilustrados by the 1890s. Apolinario Mabini in “You Owe
Your Country All” stated, “You will come to know of that which for a
long time the Spanish were bent concealing from you: that you have a
country” (Abueva, The Making, 166).
87. Civil municipal and provincial governments were, for the Americans,
training grounds where Filipinos could demonstrate their capacity for
self-rule (Thompson, Imperial Archipelago, 168).
88. By as early as 1908, plans had been established for public buildings
costing ₱4,597,390. These included capitols in settlements such as San
Fernando (Pampagna Province), Pasig (Rizal), and Santa Cruz
Laguna), each at a cost of between ₱60,000 and ₱100,000 (War
(
Department 1908, Part 2, 353).
89. Hines, “Imperial Facade,” 50.
90. Cullinane, “Bringing in the Brigands,” 52. Among the first generation
of capitol buildings was San Fernando (Pampagna Province), which
under the support of Governor Macario Arnedo included a major
landscape project. The original area for the Capitol and surroundings
was twelve hectares (known as Silva Park). To the front of the Capitol
was placed a statue of General Maximino Hizon, a person distin-
guished for his battles against Spanish forces during the Philippine
Revolution. Another notable scheme was the Capitol of Laguna Prov-
ince (in Santa Cruz), which used the same floor plan as in Pampagna,
Tayabas, and Rizal Provinces. The front facade was given an imposing
design with large Doric columns. The cost of the building was put at
₱97,000.
91. For ornamentation, Parsons often used ironwork, a feature adopted

from local architecture (Hines, “American Modernism,” 324).
92. Klassen, Architecture, 166.
93. Dakudao, “Imperial Consulting Architect,” 38.
94. Far Eastern Review, “Provincial Buildings,” 44.
95. Cameron, “Provincial Centres,” 3.
96. Parsons cited in Dakudao, “Imperial Consulting Architect,” 31.
98. Lande, “Philippines,” 528.
99. The opinion of many Americans at the start of the 1900s was that Fili-
pinos without education had little political sentiment (Cullinane,
“Bringing in the Brigands,” 47–48).
100. Burns, Presenting America, 6.
101. Cruz, America’s Colonial Desk, 69.
102. Ibid., 155.
103. Anderson, “Cacique Democracy,” 7–10, 11. Spanish-era land owner-
ship patterns were fortified in the provinces when land was purchased
from the Catholic Church in December 1903 for $7.6 million. Some
410,000 acres of land were bought, about half in the hinterland of
Manila. When the land was resold to Filipinos wealthy families utilized
the situation to expand their landholdings and so local power bases
(Anderson, “Cacique Democracy,” 11; Forbes, Worcester, and Carpen-
ter, Friar Land Inquiry; Cunningham, “Friar Lands Question”).
104. Ireland, Far Eastern, 277.
105. Many buildings from the Spanish era were built of materials consid-
ered nondurable, such as Philippine woods, brick, stone cut from
sea coral, and adobe. After 1898, public edifices in the Philippines
were built from several types of reinforced concrete, one Philippine
hardwood, Oregon pine, and Douglas fir. The first concrete capitol
in the Philippines was for Rizal Province (Cameron, “Provincial
Centres,” 3, 11).
106. Many Spanish-era edifices by the early 1900s were riddled with dry rot
and white ants.
107. Cameron, “Provincial Centres,” 3. From October 1909 to September
1912, Parsons was assisted by Louie Marié. Marié’s replacement in
1912 was George C. Fenhagen.
108. Ibid., 3. Parsons emphasized that to establish such green environments
within Philippine cities each provincial government should establish a
nursery for the propagation of trees and plants (4).
109. The Capitol was designed by Ralph Harrington Doane, consultant ar-
chitect in the Bureau of Public Works after Parsons had left the Philip-
pines. Historically, Pangasinan Province had been subject to much
Spanish colonial intervention so as to develop trade, and spread the
Spanish language and Catholic faith in the territory (Cortes, Pangas-
inan, 117.
110. Parsons cited in Cameron, “Provincial Centres,” 3.
111. Ibid., 11.
112. Parsons resigned from the post of consultant architect in February
1914. By this time, Filipinos dominated the positions of architectural
draftsmen and junior draftsmen. Following political changes in 1916,
such individuals were to enjoy promotion within the BPW. Norma
Alarcon, however, attributes the transition within the BPW due to
American personnel leaving the Philippines to serve in the US Army
during World War I.
114. The size of the new civic district in Cabanatuan was 400 meters by
410 meters (438 by 449 yards).
115. In total, three capitols were built in the Philippines from wood, all in
1904.
117. Ibid., 6.
118. The name used for the settlement since the 1950s is Roxas City.
119. Cameron, “Provincial Centres,” 11. As with other capitol projects in
the Philippines, other public buildings were erected near it so as to
form a new civic core.
120. Of the thirty-one capitols in the Christian provinces by 1914, fifteen
were newly built by the Americans, principally to designs by Parsons.
By the 1920s, however, many of the Spanish colonial-era buildings had
been replaced by edifices designed by Filipino architects, Juan Arellano,
for example, in the BPW. These new buildings typically were set in
monumental, symmetrically landscaped grounds.
121. Inscription on the pediment of the front elevation states the function of
the colonial government in Pangasinan Province: “By the government
for the administration of a civil state promoting life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness.”
122. Dacanay, “Burnham-Anderson Blueprints,” 2514.
123. By the time Filipinization was enacted, the work of some American
professionals in the Philippines had all but come to an end, especially
surveyors (Evans, American Surveyor, 25–26).
Chapter 6. Conclusion
1. Epigraph. Stuntz, Philippines, 156.
Tan, History, 66.
2. The creation of civil government in the Philippines was grounded in
two governmental principles: the Americans would in time decide
whether the Filipinos had proven themselves fit for self-rule; the Amer-
icans would decide, given Filipino actions, whether self-rule was good
for Filipinos (Storey and Lichauco, Conquest, 192). The Americans
granted self-rule to the Filipinos after passage of the Tydings-Duffy Act
in 1934. The act stipulated that autonomous government would be
formed within ten years.
3. In 1921, American civil servants headed the Bureaus of Education,
Prisons, Forestry, Science, the Mint, the Quarantine Service, the Coast
and Geodetic Survey, and the Metropolitan Water District. All other
government offices were headed by Filipinos (Constantino, History,
316).
4. Kalaw, Self-Government, 108.
5. The scholarship scheme to send Filipinos to the United States for the
purpose of education in colleges and universities, and to obtain lessons
in “higher civilization,” came into being in August 1903. Upon their
return to the United States, many Filipinos were employed at senior
levels in the colonial civil service. The program lasted until the early
1940s.
6. Freestone, “City Beautiful.”
7. Brody, Visualizing, 162–163.
8. Williams, United States, 126.
9. To pay for urban improvement schemes, port developments, the pur-
chase of friar lands, and so on, the Philippine Commission, which recei
ved no financial assistance from the US Treasury, took on debt. By
1913, national debt was $13 million.
10. Chakrabarty, Habitations, 88.
11. Doeppers, “Imperial Makeover,” 490.
12. Roche and Lasher, Plans of Chicago, 54.
13. On Paris, Lees, The City, 72–73; Hall, Planning, 55–83; on Vienna,
Ward, Planning, 141–143; on Washington, Hegemann and Peets,
American Vitruvius. 21.
14. Wilson, City Beautiful, 281.
15. Peterson, Birth, 215.
16. Freestone, Designing, 80, 119.
17. Morley, “Philippine Connections,” 30.
18. Ibid., 41.

19. Christopher Vernon discusses the reputation of Burnham in Australia
at the time of the Canberra design competition (“Daniel Burnham,”
501–525).
20. Letter from Walter Burley Griffin to King O’Malley, Documents Neces-
sary to Complete Parliamentary Paper No. 153 of Session 1914–15–
16, Laid on the Table of the House of Representatives on June 16
1915, CP487/6, 5, National Archives of Australia.
21. Canberra Annual, “Vicissitudes,” 4.
22. Milroy, “Commentary,” 86.
23. Morley, “Philippine Connections,” 50.
24. The Order of the Knights of Rizal petition was filed on September 12,
2014. The case is listed as G. R. No. 213948 Knights of Rizal v. DMCI
Homes, Inc., DCMI Project Developers, Inc., City of Manila, National
Commission for Culture and the Arts, National Museum and the
National Historical Commission of the Philippines. Oral arguments
began on July 21, 2015.
25. The Tower, when completed, will have 48 floors (41 for residences, 3
for basement parking, and 4 for podium parking). Its land area is
7,557 square metres and its overall aesthetic is contemporary art deco.
The site was purchased by DCMI Homes on September 1, 2011. The
front (western) border of the site is at a distance of about sixty metres
from the eastern boundary of Rizal Park. Taft Avenue, running north-
south, is situated between Rizal Park and the Torre de Manila’s site.
26. Construction began soon after DCMI Homes obtained a building per-
mit from the Manila city government in July 2012. An additional ele-
ment of the argument against the construction of the Torre de Manila
is that it has violated building and zoning regulations because its floor
to area ratio is almost 8:1, whereas regulations state the ration must be
less than 4:1. By July 2015, 91 percent of units in the tower had been
sold. Units, typically inclusive of balconies, are less than 40 square me-
ters in gross floor area. The average cost of a unit was $66,000.
27. “DCMI Homes Memorandum on the Torre de Manila,” DCMI Homes,
accessed November 4, 2015, http://www.dmcihomes.com/whats-new
-article.php?dmci-homes-memorandum-on-torre-de-manila=15763.
The order was issued by the Supreme Court on July 17, 2015.
28. “DCMI Homes Memorandum.”
29. “New Advisory (Torre de Manila),” DCMI Homes, accessed Novem-
ber 5, 2015, http://www.dmci-homes.com/projects/manila-city/torre
-de-manila-taft-avenue-luneta.html; Buen Marquez and Angelo G arcia,
“A Soaring Eyesore: Torre de Manila Construction Threatens Rizal Park’s

Skyline,” The Palladium, February 2015, accessed March 1, 2015, http:/
/thepalladium.ph/legal/soaring-eyesore-torre-de-manilas-construction
-threatens-rizal-parks-skyline/.
30. Gemma Cruz Araneta, “ICOMOS for Rizal Monument,” Manila Bul-
letin, July 30, 2015.
31. Mark Merueñas, “SolGen Finally Faces SC, Wants Torre de Manila De-
molished,” GMA News Online, August 25, 2015, accessed August 26,
2015, http://www.gmanetwork.com/news/story/534311/news/nation
/solgen-finally-faces-sc-wants-torre-de-manila-demolished.
32. Marquez and Garcia, “A Soaring Eyesore.”
33. In June 2014, the NHCP stated that the Torre de Manila violated
guidelines on monuments honoring national heroes, but within a few
months had reversed its position.
34. Pia Cayetano was the chairperson of the Senate Committee on Educa-
tion, Arts, and Culture. Since June 2016, she has been a member of the
Philippine House of Representatives.
35. “We Disagree: OSG on Dropping NHCP in Torre de Manila Case,”
CNN Philippines, September 1, 2015, accessed August 5, 2017, http:/
/cnnphilippines.com/metro/2015/08/26/Office-of-Solicitor-General
-drops-NHCP-in-Torre-de-Manila-case.html.
36. In June 2014, the Department of Environment and Natural Resources,
Cordillera Administrative Region filed a complaint against Baguio City
Congressman Nicasion Aliping and officials of three construction com-
panies for damaging 761 trees within a forest reservation. The trees
were cut to make way for construction of a two-kilometer road on
land owned by Congressman Aliping.
37. The metropolitan and peri-urban population is estimated to be as high
as twenty-four million. If that is accurate, Manila is the fourth-largest
metropolis in the world.
38. De la Torre, Landmarks, 100–102.
39. The project to construct the shopping mall ended during the Southeast
Asian financial crisis of the late 1990s.
40. The topic of the historic built fabric in the Philippines, urban planning,
and heritage has been discussed throughout 2016 in the weekly col-
umn City Sense by Paulo Alcazaren in the newspaper the Philippine
Star.
41. One of the major parks at Manila’s urban fringe suggested in the 1905
plan by Daniel Burnham was developed by the 1930s into a fifty-hect-
are (124-acre) leisure area known as Harrison Park. Because by the
early 2000s sports facilities, which included the Rizal Memorial Sta-
dium, were run down, the area became subject to public authority–
approved development. Fear that one of Manila’s last large open spaces
will disappear to commercial development has prompted the National
Museum of the Philippines and the National Historical Commission of
the Philippines to award the Rizal Memorial Sports Complex the sta-
tus of “important cultural property” and “national historical land-
mark.”
42. Mendez-Ventura, “Esteros,” 43.
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Index
Aguinaldo, Emilio, 7, 11, 83, 208 Baguio (planning activity in by Daniel

Ahern, George, 207 Burnham and Peirce Anderson),
Albay, 122, 150, 154–155 86–110
Alberti, Leon Battista, 34 Baguio (Preliminary Plan, Report of,
Alcazaren, Paulo, 220 1905), 90, 108, 110, 167
Aliping, Nicasion, Jr. (Baguio City Bagumbayan Field (Manila), 8, 83–84,
Congressman), 220 164, 197
Allen, Warren, 128–129, 131 Balanga (Bataan), 154
Anderson, Benedict, 9, 12, 90, 94–95, Balangiga (Samar), 200
148, 201 Balangkayan (Samar), 200
Anderson, Peirce, 23, 46, 87, 89‑90, Baliuag (Bulacan Province), 198
100, 108, 167 Barangay (Philippine urban commu-
Apacible, Galicano, 9 nity), 21, 31–32, 39
Aparri (Cagayan Province), 198 Barlon, Stephen, 191
Aragon, Juan, 191 Barrio (neighbourhood dating from the
Araneta, Gregorio, 187 Spanish colonial era), 34, 39, 116
Arellano, Juan, 130, 132, 156, 182, Basey (Samar), 200
212, 217 Batangas (Batangas Province), 155, 185,
Aritao (Nueva Vizcaya), 198 198
Army and Navy Club (Manila), 179, Bates Treaty (1899), 212
199 Battle of Manila Bay (between Spain and
Arrabales (outlying districts of Spanish United States, 1898), 18–19, 48, 63
colonial urban settlements), 38, Bautista, Ariston, 200
81 Bayombong (Nueva Vizcaya), 198
Asiatic Squadron (US Navy), 18 Benevolent Assimilation (Proclamation
Asociacion Hispano-Filipino, 9 of), 5, 16, 19–21, 26, 45, 80, 99,
Asuncion, Ysabelo, 191 111, 134, 160–161
Audiencia (Spanish royal court), 35 Benguet Province, 86–87, 92, 107
Australia, 168, 170‑172, 201, 211, 219 Bennett, Edward, 50
Berlin (Germany), 50, 74
Badoc (Ilocos Norte), 200 Biak-na-Bato Republic, 11
Baguio, 1, 3, 16, 45, 52, 54, 84, 86, Binondo (district in Manila), 38, 63, 81
111–114, 119‑120, 123, 125, 150, Black Legend, 23
160, 162–165, 167, 170–172, 182, Bogo (Cebu), 116
200–208, 220 Bohol, 125, 154
243
244 Index
Bond, Paul, 209 Capiz Province, 122, 152–154

Bonifacio, Andres, 7, 83, 137 Carigara (Leyte), 200
Borneo, 31, 133, 214 Carrére, John, 192
Bourne, Edgar, 54, 103, 191, 194 Catholic Church, 8–9, 28, 33–34,
Brunner, Arnold, 192 37–39, 121, 124, 143, 216–218
Budapest (Hungary), 74 Cavite (Province of Cavite), 57, 60,
Bulacan Province, 150, 185 185, 193
Bureau of Architecture and Construc- Cavite Mutiny, 7–8, 184
tion of Public Buildings, 191, 194 Cayetano, Pia (Philippine Senator), 176,
Bureau of Engineering and Construc- 220
tion of Public Buildings, 194 Cebu, 1, 3, 16, 31–32, 35, 84, 104, 114,
Bureau of Lands, 204 116–119, 121–132, 136, 138, 146,
Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes, 151, 160, 162, 165–167, 182,
135–136 209–212
Bureau of Public Works (BPW), 99, Cebu Burned Area Committee, 118
104–105, 114, 117, 120, 123, de Certeau, Michel, 6, 101
152–153, 155–156, 158, 163, 182, Chartered Bank of India, Australia and
194, 196, 198, 206, 217 China, 211
Burnham, Daniel, 14–16, 23, 45–46, Chicago, 16, 51, 60, 67, 122, 163,
49–57, 60, 63, 65–68, 74, 84,
168–170
86–87, 89, 96–97, 99–100, 104,
China, 31, 189, 207, 213
108, 113–114, 117, 119–123, 125,
City Beautiful planning, 2, 15–16, 23,
143, 145, 155, 157–160, 163,
45, 46–50, 78–81, 137–138, 143,
166–168, 170, 174, 179, 181–182,
155, 157, 159–160, 162, 170–172,
191–192, 195, 197–198, 202–203,
181
219
City of Manila (Manila’s municipal
Burnham Park (Baguio), 94, 100, 102,
government), 175–176
107–109, 113, 163, 170
Burrows, David, 135 Civic Centers, 1, 3, 16, 52, 61, 68–72,
74, 77, 79, 81, 83, 87, 93–94, 98,
Caba (La Union Province), 200 102–103, 107–110, 129–131,
Cabanatuan (Nueva Ecija), 145–146, 137–139, 144–155, 157, 159,
152, 198, 217 164–167, 169–170, 182, 197
Cabrera, Sergio, 191 Cleveland, 52, 123, 169, 192
Caciques (native chief), 25, 30, 203 Colombia, 33
Cainta (Rizal Province), 31 Cordillera Region, 86, 94
Calamba City (Laguna Province), 200 Crane, Stephen, 49
Caloocan (National Capital Region), Cuba, 19–20, 48
10, 198
Camp John Hay (Baguio), 107, 202 Daet (Camarines Norte), 200
Canberra (Australia, capital city of), Dagupan (Pangasinan Province), 196
170–172 Danao (Cebu), 118
Capitol Buildings, 2, 13–14, 52, 69–70, Dasmariñas, Gómez Pérez (Spanish
72, 74, 77–78, 80, 83, 100, 123, Governor-General of the Philip-
129–131, 137–138, 143–155, 160, pines), 36
164, 166–168, 170–172, 177, 182, Denby, Charles, 187
183, 197, 212, 215–217 Denison, Wilfred, 187
Index 245
Dewey, George (US Naval Com- Heritage (built, preservation of), 17,
mander), 11, 19, 48, 187 170, 172–182
Dilao (district in Manila), 38 Hilbay, Florin, 175
Diokno, Maria Serena, 176, 184 Hong Kong, 42, 214
DMCI Homes, 172–173, 175–176, 219 Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking
Doane, Ralph Harrington, 217 Corporation, 211
Dreiser, Theodore, 49 Hunt, Richard Morris, 50
École des Beaux Arts (Paris, France), 50 Ide, Henry, 186

Ecuador, 33 Igorot (tribe/tribespeople), 87, 92,
Ermita (district in Manila), 42, 69, 164, 94–96, 201, 204–205, 207
193–194 Ilagan (Isabela Province), 198
Escolta (business thoroughfare in Iloilo (Panay), 122, 125, 131, 150,
Binondo, Manila), 74 152–153, 156, 200
Esteros (estuarine river inlets), 63–66, Ilustrados (learned Filipinos), 8–10, 25,
168, 181–182, 196 30, 110, 148, 203, 210, 215
Extramuros (area of Manila outside the Ilustre, Vicente, 187
Spanish walled city), 37–38, 42, Imus (Province of Cavite), 42
57, 60–61, 68–79, 103, 179, 189 International Council on Monuments
and Sites (ICOMOS), 173
Intramuros (Spanish walled city in
Fisher, Andrew (Australian Prime
Manila), 36–37, 39–40, 42–45,
Minister), 171
55, 68–69, 71, 73, 76–77, 79, 81,
Forbes, W. Cameron, 55, 96, 106, 115,
138, 164, 178, 189, 193–194,
187, 194, 199, 201, 204–205, 207
197–198
Foucault, Michel, 102, 142
Isla del Corregidor (Corregidor Island),
67, 77, 84, 168
Genoa (Italy), 100
Islam, 31, 40, 118, 132–136, 140, 213
Gilbert, Newton, 187
Gill, Irving, 145 Japan, 31
Gomburza (Mariano Gomez, Jose Jervey, J.P., 209
Burgos, Jacinto Zamora), 7, 184 Jolo (Sulu), 115
Government Group (Daniel Burnham’s
new civic quarter for Manila as Katipunan, 10–11, 29, 185
suggested in 1905 city plan), Keller, Charles, 209
69–72, 74, 77–79, 81, 83, 103, Kennon, Lyman, 207
108, 197 Kyoto (Japan), 193
Griffin, Walter Burley, 170–172, 219
Guadalupe River (Cebu), 132 Ladue, W.B., 209
Guam, 19–20 Laguna Province, 150, 185
Guisad (district in Baguio), 208 Laoag (Ilocos Norte), 42
Law of the Indies (1573), 2, 33–34, 36,
Harrison, Francis Burton, 105, 187 154
Harrison Park (Manila) 220–221 Lefebvre, Henri, 81, 83, 142
Haussmann, Georges Eugène, 50, 169 de Legazpi, Miguel, 35
Havana Harbor (Cuba), 48 L’Enfant, Pierre, 51
Helsinki (Finland), 50 Letter of Instructions (1900), 26
246 Index
Leyte, 125, 150 McKinley, William (President of the

Leyte, Eduardo, 9 United States, 16, 18–20, 25–26,
Limjap, Mariano, 200 110, 134, 136, 160, 187
Lingayen, 150–151, 155, 166 McMillan Plan (Washington DC,
Lingayen Gulf, 115, 151 1901‑2), 51–54, 169
Llorente (Samar Province), 200 Mead, Charles, 204
London (United Kingdom), 50, 69, 74 Metaculture, 137, 141–144, 161
Lopez-Jaena, Graciano, 9 Mexico, 37, 40, 189–190
Lucban (Quezon Province), 200 Meycauayan (Bulacan Province), 198
Luna, Antonio, 9 Miagao (Iloilo Province), 200
Luneta (Manila), 66–69, 75, 77, 79, 84, Mindanao, 31, 118–119, 125, 132–141,
108, 132, 179, 193, 198–199 144, 146, 213–214
de Luzurinage, Jose Ruiz, 186 Mindoro, 31
Misamis Province, 212
Mabini, Apolinario, 7, 137, 215 Morgan, J. Pierpont, 207
MacArthur (Leyte), 200 Morong (Bataan), 185
Madrid (Spain), 105 Moro Province, 118, 149
Magellan, Ferdinand, 117 Moses, Bernard, 186
Mountain Province, 95
Malate (district in Manila), 193–194,
Municipal Board of Manila, 55–56
196
Municipal Center (Baguio), 93–94,
Malay Peninsula, 31
107–110
Malolos (Bulacan Province), 146, 152
Municipal Code, 147, 211
Manila, 1, 3, 11, 14–16, 21, 23–24,
Muñoz (Nueva Ecija), 200
31–32, 35–38, 40, 42–45, 47–48,
52–56, 60–80, 92, 102–104,
Naples (Italy), 65
111–112, 115–121, 123, 125–126,
National Commission for Culture and
129, 132–133, 137–138, 145, 150, the Arts (NCCA), 174–175, 181,
156–158, 160, 162–182, 189, 219
191–200, 203–204, 206, 211, 214, National Government Center (Baguio),
219–221 93, 107, 109–110
Manila (Report on Improvement of, National Historical Commission of the
1905), 46, 54–55, 57, 68, 74, 77, Philippines (NHCP), 176, 219–221
80, 90, 145, 167, 191, 195–198 National Museum of the Philippines,
Manila (Report on Proposed Passenger 175, 219, 221
Station, 1906), 73 Negros, 209
Manila Bay, 11, 19, 48, 55, 57, 60, 67, New York, 74, 204
77, 118, 168, 170, 200 New York Times, 20
Manila Carnival, 67 Nolan, John, 50
Manning, Warren, 50 Norris, Frank, 49
Mapa, Victorino, 187 Nueva Caceres (Ambos Camarines
Marianas Islands, 7 Province), 155
Marikina City (National Capital Nueva Ecija Province, 145–146, 150,
Region), 200 152, 185
Martin, Henderson, 187
McCoy, F.R., 209 Office of the Consulting Architect, 117,
McKim, Charles, 50–51 208
Index 247
Olmsted, Frederick Law, 51 105, 120–121, 124, 136, 147, 165,

Olmsted Jr, Frederick Law, 50–51 167, 191–192, 198, 205, 218
O’Malley, King, 219 Philippine Commonwealth, 182
Order of the Knights of Rizal, 172, Philippine Institute of Architects (PIA),
175–178, 219 180
Otis, Elwell, 187 Philippine Organic Act (1902), 134,
147
Pacific Squadron (Spanish Navy), 18 Philippine Star, 220
Pack, William, 207 de Pilar, Marcelo, 9
Paco (district in Manila), 38, 55, 72–73, Plaza Mayor (central urban plaza
75, 81, 180, 194 within Spanish colonial settle-
Pakdal (district in Baguio), 99, 108, 208 ments), 2, 33–34, 37, 114, 121,
Pampagna Province, 122, 150, 185, 215 143, 157, 164
Panama, 33 Poblacions, 39
Panay, 35, 125, 153, 209 Poblete, Pascual, 200
Pandacan (district in Manila), 55, 194 Ponce, Mariano, 9
Pangasinan Province, 151, 217 Pope, John Russell, 50
Pantabangan (Nueva Ecija), 198 Post, George, 50
Paoay (Ilocos Norte), 200 Prague (Czech Republic), 50
Pardo de Tavera, Trinidad, 186 Principalias (Philippine local elites),
Parian (Chinese district in Cebu), 126, 25, 30, 40, 125, 132, 146–148,
128 210
Parian (Chinese district in Manila), 38 Propaganda Movement, 29
Paris (France, capital city of), 49–50, Puerto Rico, 19–20
65, 69–70, 74, 105, 169
Parsons, William E., 15–16, 93–94, Quezon City, 178, 200
96–101, 103, 104, 108–110, Quiapo (district in Manila), 55, 194
113–114, 117, 119–125, 129–131, Quinapondan (Samar), 200
134, 137–8, 140, 143–147, 149,
151–155, 159–160, 163, 165, Ragay (Camarines Sur), 200
180–182, 197, 207, 212, 216–217 Reducción (Spanish colonial policy of
Pasay (National Capital Region), 200 forced resettlement of native
Pasig (Rizal Province), 145, 154, 215 Filipinos), 34, 39
Pasig River (Manila), 58, 63–66, 68, Reed, Eugene E., 187
71–72, 74, 79, 81, 153, 168 Riggs, Clinton, 187
Paterno, Maximo, 200 Riis, Jacob, 49
Pensionados Program, 155, 159 de Rivera, Fernando Primo (Spanish
Peru, 33 Governor-General of the Philip-
Philip II (King of Spain), 2, 33 pines), 11
Philippine American War (1899‑1902), Rizal, José, 7, 9–10, 14–15, 65, 78–80,
46, 91, 112, 134, 215 83–84, 94, 137–138, 168, 173,
Philippine Autonomy Act (Jones Law, 199–200
1916), 1, 4, 105, 146, 155, 158, Rizal, Paciono, 200
186 Rizal Memorial Sports Complex
Philippine Commission, 25–26, 28, (Manila), 221
55–57, 79, 90, 92, 95–96, 100, Rizal Memorial Stadium (Manila), 221
248 Index
Rizal Monument (in Rizal Park, Stimson, Henry (US Secretary of War),
Manila), 14, 78–79, 168, 172–174, 92
176–177, 199–200 Stirling, V. R., 209
Rizal Park (Manila), 8, 14, 163, 170, St. Petersburg (Russia), 74
172–174, 176–179, 219–220 Sulawesi, 133
Rizal Province, 150, 153, 200, 215–216 Sulu, 133
Robinson, Charles Mulford, 50 Sumulong, Juan, 187
Romblon (Romblon Province), 200 Surigao Province, 154
Rome (Italy), 50, 66, 70, 130
Root, Elihu, 54 Tacloban (Leyte), 200
Rosales (Pangasinan), 200 Taft, William H., 28, 46, 54, 84, 96,
Rowell, Samuel, 191 186, 197, 204
Tarlac (Tarlac Province), 150, 153, 185
Saint-Gaudins, Augustus, 51 Tayabas (Quezon Province), 150, 185,
Samar, 125 215
Sampaloc (district in Manila), 194 Taytay (Rizal Province), 200
San Antonio (district in Manila), 66 Tokyo (Japan), 69
San Fernando (Pampagna), 145, 215 Tondo (district in Manila), 44, 55, 194,
San Francisco, 100, 169 196
San Ildefonso (Bulacan Province), 198
Torre de Manila, 163, 172–178,
San Jose (Occidental Mindoro), 200
219–220
San Juan (district of Manila), 200
Townsend, C. (Major, US Army Corps
San Miguel (district in Manila), 38
of Engineers), 196
San Nicolas (district in Manila), 63,
Treaty of Paris (between United States
194
and Spain, signed 1898), 18, 20,
San Pablo City (Laguna Province), 200
63, 83
San Ramon (Mindanao), 119
Tuason, Juan, 200
Santa Ana (district in Manila), 55, 194
Santa Cruz (district in Manila), 55, 194 Tumauini (Isabela Province), 198
Santa Cruz (Laguna Province), 145, Tydings-Duffy Act (1934), 218
200, 215
Schurman, Jacob, 187 US Census of the Philippines (under-
Schuyler, Montgomery, 55 taken in 1902), 44, 208
Senate Park Commission (based in USS Maine, 48, 192
Washington, DC), 54 Utang na loob, 146
Shuster, William, 187
Siam, 31 Vance, C.F., 209
Singapore, 42, 133, 214 Venezuela, 33
Singson, Vicente, 187 Venice (Italy), 65
Sitios, 39 Versailles (France), 70, 130
Spanish-American War (1898), 1, 11, Vienna (Austria, capital city of), 49–50,
19–20, 48, 52, 126, 159 69, 74, 169
Spanish Empire, 2, 16, 33–34, 117 Villasis (Pangasinan), 200
Spanish Empire (fall of, 1898), 4, 42, Vitruvius, 33
124, 157
Stick Style (architectural design form), War Department (US Government
103 Office), 1, 45, 54, 160
Index 249
Washington, DC, 14, 16, 19, 48, 51–54, Wright, Luke, 186
60, 69–70, 74, 80, 100, 114, 123, Yangco, Teodoro, 200
163–164, 169, 180
Whitmarsh, H.P., 201 Zambales Province, 153
Wood, Leonard, 212, 214 Zamboanga (Zamboanga del Sur
Worcester, Dean, 28, 96, 186–187, 207 Province), 1, 3, 16, 84, 104, 114,
World’s Columbian Exposition (in 119, 122–123, 132–141, 143, 160,
Chicago, 1893), 51, 122 162, 165, 182, 212, 214–215
About the Author
Ian Morley teaches modern history at the Chinese University

of Hong Kong. A graduate of the Centre for Urban History,
Leicester University, UK, and the School of Architectural Stud-
ies, University of Sheffield, UK, he has published widely on ur-
ban environments during the late 1800s and early 1900s, for
example, in Philippine Studies: Historical and Ethnographic
Viewpoints, Fabrications: The Journal of the Society of Archi-
tectural Historians, Australia and New Zealand, and Planning
Perspectives. The former book review editor for Urban Mor-
phology: Journal of the International Seminar on Urban Form,
Morley has also worked with media outlets such as The Dis-
covery Channel, Voom!, the Los Angeles Times, and Wall
Street Journal Asia. He currently is a council member of the
International Planning History Society.

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Cities and Nationhood

Cities and Nationhood

University of Hawai‘i Press

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Morley, Ian, author.

University of Hawai‘i Press books are printed on acid-free

Chapter 1. Modernity, Nationhood, and Philippine Cities / 1

In bringing this project to fruition, I am indebted to a

­ hilippine cities, the legacy of city planning developments between 1898

istration of the Philippines in 1898, the imprint of Spain’s colonial urban

Modernity and Modernization

advancement is instigated paradigmatically, that is, when modernity is

Building on Hobsbawm’s theory, Anne Fernald suggests that

mised on change—led to the new state of being within which traditional

Filipino Sense of Self Pre-1898

who were garrotted at Bagumbayan Field in Manila (today Rizal Park),

educated, liberal-minded young men and older self-exiled Filipinos

who sought to “unite the whole archipelago” and envisioned a “com-

But what exactly was the Philippine nation as a concept as it emerged

in the Philippine Archipelago, the Katipunan lost its original cultural-

to American colonial rule, as chapter 2 explains, fundamentally affected

Cities and Nationhood

nation.56 For Gellner, nationalism is definable in terms of both human

to help organize roads, spaces, and buildings, urban planning plainly

Rizal were powerful symbols to bind Filipinos together. Significantly as

Although aspects of American attitudes to civilization in the Phil-

tion of grand classical urbanism outside Manila is therefore reviewed as

“The circumstances in which the United States came into possession of

in a declaration given in Washington, DC, on December 21, 1898, a

Acquiring the Philippines

As Alleyne Ireland observed at the time, “Nothing can be more unprom-

to win the confidence, respect, and affection of the inhabitants of the

To come to terms with what American colonial rule was to accomplish,

The American Perspective on Spanish Colonial Rule and

modernizing of the Philippines was fashioned with an intrinsic paradox:

mobi­ lity was important. By exploiting their political aspirations—

1900 Letter of Instructions, said to be the most important document in

“The Orphans of the Pacific” and Their Political Experience

On arriving in the Philippines, Americans often remarked on the

Associated closely, in the opinion of the Americans, to this subjugation

ninety per cent of the inhabitants are still in a hopeless condition of

Comparing Filipinos with Native Americans thus, if the Philippines by

Urban Development and Urban Design in the Philippines

need to migrate to find food. In contrast, in lowland regions, where

Spain’s occupation of the Philippines had an immense impact on

­ attista Alberti (1404–1472), the Law of the Indies sought to establish

1. use of reducción (forced resettlement);

settlers. Any remaining plots were to be held so that land could be

With its extensive two kilometer-long stone perimeter walls, and

(and flammable) buildings into an imposing colonial capital. Visitors to

It is important to appreciate what the Intramuros represented to the

made up the island chain were either uninhabited or sparsely inhabited.

Invariably, in the vicinity of poblacions, subordinate urban communities

matter evident in their title of principalias. Third, in reiterating a prior

Urban Conditions in the Philippines circa 1898

It is a common saying that Paris is France. In the same sense Manila is

Table 2.2. Population of Largest Settlements in the Visayas Region in 1900

Table 2.3. Population of Largest Settlements on Mindanao in 1900

As tables 2.1 through 2.3 collectively reveal, aside from Manila

picturesque.97 In terms of house design, architecture in the walled city

traveling in Manila, observed that road conditions were “execrable, and

The City Beautiful and the Modern

hilippine cities, the legacy of city planning developments between 1898

mobi lity was important. By exploiting their political aspirations—

attista Alberti (1404–1472), the Law of the Indies sought to establish

Trees planted along the Sea Boulevard, placed on the western-

idespread presence of disease in both urban and rural localities, the

c ircumstances, the Philippine Commission realized that the spread and