So, here it is.
A rubber, a johnny, French letter, top hat, call it what you will.
I bought it from the supermarket round the corner, and the
checkout girl didn’t even bat an eyelid until I caught her eye, and winked.
50 years ago, I couldn’t have assumed that a supermarket would have them.
A trip to the chemist would have been in order.
But in all likelihood, as a young man, the pharmacist would not have given them to me.
So I would have to have gone to the machine in the pub toilets.
For a woman, the whole process would have been more laborious still.
Before the 20th century, of course, the luxury of a condom—if you can call it that—wasn’t even there.
It’s time to talk the talk, and walk the walk.
My name’s Guy, and welcome to It’s History.
I’ve been entertaining myself recently with a little research into the history of every responsible man’s back-pocket saviour--and other means of contraception.
Fertility has occupied the mind of man since time immemorial.
The pleasure associated with that very concept has been an even greater distraction.
Generally speaking, we find five means of contraception in the history books.
The popular classics don’t work: mysticism, magic and religion.
So there was advice in antiquity for a woman to leap up and down after intercourse, or to sneeze powerfully.
Fine for urging out a fart, perhaps, but otherwise ineffective.
Another option was for a woman to tie weasel testicles to her leg, perhaps to fool fertility-granting spirits that she was a man. Mmm.
Then there was a more promising leap—not up and down, but forwards.
Barriers placed within the vagina.
In ancient Egypt, women used plugs made of honey, leaves and, some recipes said, manure.
A good deterrent for sperm, perhaps, but manure… Really!
Mentioned in early Jewish traditions and used into the 19th century was a sponge with a little slit, and usually soaked in vinegar.
Not bad, but vinegar was terribly irritating to the insides, not to mention to the old man.
Casanova reports in the 18th century of lemon rind that the
women of the European royal courts had to insert with a certain twist of the finger, so to speak.
All of the above was better than nothing, but not much better than that.
The idea to insert a mechanical barrier was improved by the German doctor Wilhelm Mensinga.
In the 1870s and 80s, he researched and developed what we call the diaphragm today, but which in those days had a more attractive name: the occlusive pessary.
While application required practice, its contraceptive potential was high.
Contraceptive sponges made a comeback in the 70s, but this time were made out of polyurethane and came with a safe, built-in spermicide that was activated by contact with water.
Chemistry was the third option; to put it more precisely, poisons.
Some botanical poisons influence the consistency of the blood, and can therefore trigger menstruation.
Ever since antiquity, women have applied various botanical concoctions after sex.
A sort of liquid pill, you might say.
But these special brews were also used to terminate pregnancy, which could be highly dangerous, especially if the pregnancy was already quite advanced.
Folk songs have preserved some of these recipes for posterity.
Simon and Garfunkel’s version of Scarborough Fair talks of parsley sage, rosemary and thyme.
It is said that this blend could be used for abortion.
In the novels in the series, A Song of Ice and Fire, the women drink “moon tea” with tansy and vermouth to avoid pregnancy.
Tansy tea was used in the European middle ages for exactly this purpose.
And in 1994, Nirvana sang Pennyroyal Tea, about people who cherish pointless hope.
Kurt Cobain said that he had friends who had tried to use pennyroyal as a contraceptive or for abortion—in vain.
So, there’s not much more you can do when it comes to contraception, is there?
Ah, but it takes two to tango, and we have yet to busy ourselves with this second individual and his smoking gun.
Unfortunately, this has a lot to do with tradition.
Contraception was, in many cultures and centuries long, a matter for women.
Well into the 20th century, men exempted themselves from all responsibility.
If she didn’t bring a condom, it was her fault.
Condoms.
It’s hard to say how long they’ve been around, as there are far fewer records about them than other means of contraception.
Penis covers, for protection in battle or against evil spirits, or for cultural reasons in general, were used in prehistoric times
and continue to this day in some Indonesian cultures.
It’s possible that there were also some designs envisaged for sex, but we have yet to find them if so.
The ruling classes in China and Japan used a sort of mini-condom in the 14th century, which just covered the glans.
Most probably, it was made out of oiled silk paper, viscera or, in Japan, tortoise shell.
This glans condom celebrated a return in 2014 as the Galactic Cap, which was financed by crowdfunding.
A reliable description of the historic garment comes from 1564.
The Italian, Gabriello Fallopio, developed a protective cap made of linen. He also described the tube that leads from the ovaries to the uterus, and now bears his name: the fallopian tube.
Syphilis was doing the rounds in Europe at the time, so the cap spread as quickly as the disease and was mentioned in many texts with more than a giggle.
Animal intestines were also used instead of linen, inspired by the sausage-making process.
These caps were actually half decent at protecting against disease and unwanted pregnancies.
We know that they were used for contraception, because a theologian wrote at the beginning of the 17th century about how thoroughly immoral they were.
Casanova was the proud owner of one such “English riding coat”, as he called it in his biography, and as I still call it today.
In fact, he had a luxury model, padded with silk, which he could wash out, dry, and use again.
Environmentally friendly, then—but not particularly safe.
It wasn’t until 1855 that rubbers were made out of rubber, after Goodyear invented the vulcanisation process.
The first examples were relatively thick, however, and had seams. Ouch.
In 1912, Julius Fromm developed a process using liquid rubber, which led to the emergence of Latex.
These new condoms were thinner, seamless and rigorously tested in Fromm’s factory.
The world’s first branded condom had arrived, but Fromm was forced to close down operations during the Nazi era.
His successors produce the goods these days under the name of Mapa.
In the GDR, the People’s Condom—the Mondo— was made in Fromm’s old factories.
They were manufactured mostly out of sheep’s appendix, and were praised for the heightened sensation they allowed.
So, good for those with a compost heap, but not suitable for
vegetarians.
The condom remains the most reliable means of contraception, and the only one that protects against sexually transmitted diseases.
The last method is coitus interruptus: the well-timed pull-out.
It’s a particularly risky solution, and one mentioned in the Bible.
The Old Testament tells in the First Book of Moses of a young man who marries the wife of his dead brother.
This was usual at the time, but all was apparently not ok in this case.
He let his sperm, as the text goes, drip to the floor.
He was struck at that moment by lightning.
And he was called Onan.
Conservative religious powers have used this incident as the basis of sexual prohibition ever since, most notably against onanism: the etymology is clear.
Islam speaks out against the so-called Al Azl, Arabic for coitus interruptus.
The Catholic Church remains vehemently against contraception.
In 1930s, the Church merely accepted the rhythm method, where couples have sex at times of lower fertility.
A text published in 1968 under the title “De Humane Vitae” stated again that sex was for nothing else but reproduction.
Condoms, said Pope Benedict in 2010, could—could—be used in exceptional circumstances among prostitutes and against disease.
The Anglican Church gave the ok in the 1930s, and other protestant churches gave their sanction in the 50s—excepting the most radical institutions in the States.
In the 19th century, religious taboos held research and development back.
Lobbying by Anthony Comstock, the founder of the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice, was responsible for a law that forbade everything judged to be obscene.
That included the distribution of contraceptives and information about birth control.
It wasn’t until 1965 that the Supreme Court lifted the law.
Research into the pill was difficult in this climate.
The 30s saw the beginning of artificial hormone manufacture.
Russell Marker managed to produce progesterone from plants in 1939.
This hormone regulates the menstrual cycle, and was before his success prohibitively expensive.
Over the following ten years, research remained challenging, as the only funding came from private donors.
Margaret Sanger, founder of the first birth-control movement, was heavily involved in this financing.
In 1957, initial results were published, and in 1960, the first pill was on the market.
Enovid was its name, and its impact on society was monumental.
It heaved sex out of its uptight corner, and sex, officially, became fun.
The revelation shocked many conservatives, however, and raised the question of who should be allowed a prescription.
It was handed out for free in socialist states, where family planning was a hot topic.
In other places, the authorities were more cautious.
They didn’t want to encourage a tendency already rife among teenagers: ill-considered sex.
Talking of ill-considered sex and resulting maladies, check out our episode on pirate medicine and solutions to syphilis by clicking here.
So what do you think: do people today know enough about sex, safety and contraception?
Does the church have a point about sex not being good for society? Leave your comments
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