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494 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1975
When Damned Whores and God’s Police was first published in 1975, I was in my first year at university, and just about every young woman I knew raved about it. But it wasn’t until several years later, when Anne Summers’ groundbreaking work was prescribed reading for a post-graduate unit on Australian political culture, that I read the book and realised what all the fuss was about. Summers skillfully captured Australia’s unique and troubled attitude towards women, tracing it back to our colonial beginnings.
Re-reading the book over 30 years later, at a time when Australia’s treatment of juvenile offenders in the Northern Territory and “offshore detainees” in Manus Island and Nauru are dominating the headlines, was an unsettling experience. It seems that we haven’t left our convict origins very far behind.
The title Damned Whores and God’s Police is drawn from women’s prescribed roles in the early days of white settlement. Before 1840, “female convicts and female immigrants were expected to be, and were treated as, whores, and this label was applied indiscriminately to virtually all women in the colony”. During the 1840s and 1850s, when the idea of a bourgeois family took hold, women were expected to become “God’s Police”, “entrusted with the moral guardianship of society”. Summers adds that while moral policing “has been the lot of women in most Western societies, in Australia it has acquired an almost evangelical cast and many of its particularities have given it a unique form”.
A bestseller when it was first published, Damned Whores and God’s Police has remained almost continuously in print since then. The 2014 edition incorporates all of the material from previous editions: the original 1975 text; the revised 1994 edition, for which Summers was awarded a PhD from the University of Sydney; and a new introduction and afterword.
In her introduction to the 1994 edition, Summers explains why she chose to add to, rather than rewrite and update, her original work:
“If we constantly rewrite history to fit how we see things now, we forget how things used to be and, equally important to future scholars, how we used to see them.”
I enjoyed Summers’ personal introduction, drawing on her experiences on the front lines of feminism in both Australia and the United States. From her perspective as the former editor of Ms magazine, Summers explains why US feminists have not had the enduring effect on public policy as their Australian sisters: “The American women’s movement is no different from American society in general in its obsession with fame and celebrity”. This “national fetish” has led the US women’s movement to surrender “much of their political agenda to the fads of the famous”.
In practice, this has meant that:
“… the women’s movement has become captive to the ideological whims of the celebrities who, in turn, usually only have strong (public, at least) feelings about issues involving personal lifestyle choices such as abortion. It is almost unheard of to have famous names lending their support on economic issues — they are too complicated, too difficult — and maybe this is why these subjects are so neglected by American feminism. Yet it is issues like equal pay and job opportunities that affect the daily lives of most women and are of more immediate, urgent and continuing relevance than the more fashionable subjects Hollywood stars feel strongly about.”
Underlying the political, social and legal advances women have made over the past 40 years is the need for a fundamental rethink of the way social institutions are structured. As Summers points out: “The work-place is still mostly organized around employment patterns developed earlier this century when the work-force was overwhelmingly male (with the assumption that each male worker had a domestic support system in the form of a wife).” Likewise, school hours, “seem to be still arranged around the assumption that women are full-time housewives and mothers able to be home in mid-afternoon when children get out of school”.
The introduction provides a brief overview of the advances Australian women have made over the past four decades. Summers concludes by musing on the relevance today of her title “damned whores and God’s police” — “So while we can argue that the stereotypes are still there, submerged in the national consciousness, they are not as coercive as they once were.”
Not surprisingly, other aspects of the book have lost much of their currency. For example, Summers notes of Chapter 5, “The Poverty of Dependence”, “When this book was written it seemed important to try to have something to say on the relationship between sex oppression and capitalism; not even the most ardent Marxist would probably bother to do so today and I certainly have lost interest in this once-pressing subject.” Thankfully, Chapter 4, “The Ravaged Self”, which explores territory similar to Betty Friedan’s landmark 1963 book, The Feminine Mystique, on the psychic damage and resulting emotional problems women may experience from limited opportunities to work outside the home, is now very outdated.
Similarly, much of Chapter 7, “The Colonisation of Sex”, which covers socialisation, and sexual and medical issues, is now outdated, although the section on the construction of femininity still rings true: “It is not something women are born with, but is posed as something they must strive for.”
The remainder of this review focuses on aspects of the original text which I found interesting and relevant today.
I enjoyed Summers’ analysis of the effect of Australian cultural identity on colonial literature, especially the “Australian Man of the Bush, that brash, rugged, sardonic individual”, who lives on to this day in the popular imagination. She adds, “Probably more written words have been devoted to creating, and then to analysing and extolling, this composite Australian male than to any other single facet of Australian life.”
She contrasts this with early women writers, such as Miles Franklin, Katharine Susannah Prichard, Mary Gilmore and Henrietta Drake-Brockman, who wrote about the bush. Their female characters were “copers, responding to settings that most of them had neither chosen nor enjoyed, and as such their stories were chronicles of reaction.” This meant that:
“Women in the bush could be strong characters but they were not allowed, in the literature as in life, to rival their husband’s monopolization of the national characteristics.”
Summers’ original take on Australians’ fond depiction of their nation as “Godzone Country” was that it is really “Manzone Country” — in other words, women’s contribution to the Australian experience is largely invisible — has held up surprisingly well. As she notes in the introduction to the 1994 edition:
“While Australian culture is not the thoroughly masculine construct that prevailed in the mid-1970s, it is still true in the early 1990s that women’s views and presence are under-represented. We are still coming to terms as a society and as a nation with how to reconcile our various parts into a fair and coherent whole. The debate includes such issues as Aboriginal reconciliation, multiculturalism, reconciling work and family responsibilities… and how to conduct ourselves as a largely European nation on the cusp of Asia. It does not yet adequately address what should perhaps be the most fundamental question of all: achieving reconciliation between women and men.”
Summers’ critique of marriage as an unequal partnership which women enter into largely through economic necessity seems extremely outdated today. But her description of the emotional work expected of a wife and mother is still current:
“She consoles the child who is bullied at school, the husband who has problems at work, the daughter who is in the throes of a teenage passion, the son who didn’t make the football team. The woman alleviates stress between family members and thus enables them to keep going at whatever work they are engaged in outside the home, and to the extent that she is successful in keeping them going they value ‘the family’. The institution itself is credited with the individual work of one of its members.”
In the second part of the book, Summers provides an incredibly detailed history of Australia, focusing on women and the pervasive stereotypes of “damned whores” and “God’s police”.
Contemporary accounts of the attitudes towards and treatment of women — convicts and free immigrants alike — in the early days of the penal settlement make extremely grim reading. Women were subject to “enforced whoredom”, a condition which had far-reaching effects on the female populace.
When transportation to the mainland ceased in the 1840s, Australia evolved from a penal colony to a respectable society, and women were required to fill a new role: the fledgling nation needed wives, not whores. The work of Caroline Chisholm and other private individuals to encourage the immigration and settlement of thousands of families and single people, and emerging ideas about the importance of family life, ushered in a new view of women as “God’s Police”. But this too, limited women’s options. As Summers points out:
“Caroline Chisholm had thought that the mere presence of large numbers of women would be sufficient to alter the mores of convict Australia; she was confident that what she considered to be women’s innate desires for marriage, children and homes would, if encouraged by the authorities, secure a reversal of the Damned Whore stereotype. What she did not see was that the God’s Police stereotype was just as much an imposition on women as the one it replaced.”
The ideology of God’s Police has had a far-reaching influence on Australia’s national character. It was behind the tradition of wowserism which began in the early 20th Century, when a “rampant puritanism descended upon Australian society”. It also influenced the women’s suffrage movement. As Summers writes, the early feminists:
“fought for the dignity of womanhood but their ideal of womanhood was one which still depended heavily on the Victorian characterization of women as pure and noble, as superior to men and as needing special protection. There was a contradiction between this characterization and the ideal of independence and self-determination they sought.”
The last chapter, “Suburban Neurotics”, brings the reader up to date with the then-contemporary second-wave feminism of the 1970s. Back then, although nearly 30 per cent of women with children under 12 years old were in the paid workforce, many of them experienced guilt and anxiety due to the enduring ideology of God’s Police:
“It is still present in the publicly articulated policies of the churches and many political groups. It is present in the themes and assumptions of advertising directed towards women. It is present in the content of most women’s magazines. And it is present in the theories of psychologists (and child psychologists), sociologists and many others who are either studying women or who have set themselves up to ‘help’ them.”
Extensively researched and footnoted, Damned Whores and God’s Police is essential reading for anyone interested in Australia’s cultural history, and the history of our feminist movement. And if any of today’s readers doubt the need for a feminist movement, they should read Summers’ moving 1994 afterword, “Letter to the Next Generation”:
“If you contrast your life today with the description of how life used to be, you will have some idea of what we have won — and what you must never lose.”