In the recent avalanche of scholarship that appeared on the centenary of World War I, Lisa Todd's new book on “sexual treason” in Germany is a most welcome contribution to the history of gender and sexuality. Todd's work builds on recent calls for a shift in concentration from military, medical, and civilian elites, to a greater focus on how ordinary men and women perceived sexuality. She expertly uncovers tensions between attempts by elites to control hegemonic gender ideals and the actual behavior of ordinary soldiers and civilians, on the one hand, and the agency the latter often exerted in resisting efforts at sexual control, on the other. Todd focuses on how intimate behaviors that went against prevailing middle-class norms were, in the context of total war, increasingly labelled as “treasonous.” The war intensified scrutiny of sexual relationships, the proliferation of venereal disease (VD), sex not aimed at reproduction, and sexual contact between Germans and non-Germans. Digging deeper than just a history “from above,” she uses a wide range of ego-documents, including testimonies in police reports and other sources, to reveal the tension between official rhetoric and the behaviors and perceptions of ordinary people. She shows further how ordinary Germans fought against or ignored state intrusion, demonstrating that the power of elites in controlling sexual behavior and notions of sexuality were ultimately limited.

Before the outbreak of the war, sex reform movements and moral purity organizations struggled to influence sexual behavior. Conversations about intimacy became more public as popular culture and prostitution came under greater scrutiny as dangerous. The figure of the female prostitute, in particular, became a symbol of debates over degeneracy and social control, and doctors took on increasingly public roles to fight venereal disease. Todd argues that the war turned moral panic into a national issue. In its early months, fears of moral breakdown—and, in turn, national collapse—intensified. The study examines encounters between soldiers and civilians in diverse spaces, including brothels, cafes, and homes, as well as on the street. Expanding prewar police surveillance systems, the military regulated prostitution in order to control VD, but homefront morality organizations increasingly protested against these brothels. Todd also argues that there was tension between military and state policy, on the one hand, and everyday behavior, on the other, as individual men and women made decisions about their intimate affairs, with little recognition of police control or fears about committing “sexual treason.”

Making convincing use of diaries and letters collected from various archives, Todd reveals that many soldiers felt entitled to conquer enemy women as well as territory. Abstinence campaigns had little effect in this regard, and official regulations were inconsistent. The military saw brothels as a necessary evil, whereas morality organizations wanted to ban all extramarital sex in the name of protecting the fatherland. At the same time, men were seen, at first, as innocent victims of supposedly predatory, disease-ridden foreign women, but this attitude shifted by mid-1915, when the military began to put greater pressure on men to use prophylaxis and obey regulations aimed at controlling disease. Todd found extraordinary sources, including court martial documents, that reveal how some men manipulated the system. In one case, a soldier sold pus infected with gonorrhea to his comrades so that they could smear it on their genitals prior to hygiene inspections—and thus avoid fighting on the front line.

VD campaigns seemed to take effect in combat zones by the end of 1915, but infection rates increased on the home front. Police, bureaucrats, and sex reformers intruded on private life more intensely than before, and even declared that women who merely “acted” like prostitutes were now subject to investigation. Todd argues that, despite their attempts to manage sex lives on the home front, social conservatives failed to understand the changing attitudes toward sexuality that were unfolding in wartime society. Religious-based organizations ignored economic reasons for prostitution, and feminists decried the double standard that portrayed women as predators. At the same time, Todd shows that police enjoyed widespread assistance from neighbors eager to denounce “suspect” women. Inspired by Robert Gellately's work on denunciations, which uses Gestapo records in the Third Reich, Todd shows how gossip and grassroots consent helped police crack down on “promiscuous” women in public spaces, controlling not only sexual behavior but also norms of “respectability.” Adulterous war wives were condemned as “enemies of the people” and as a threat to the war effort, and they were seen as betraying “vulnerable” husbands who were sacrificing for the nation.

As moral panic intensified, police, pastors, and judges turned their focus on contact between civilians and prisoners-of-war. Todd shows that affairs between German women and foreigners were even more aggressively prosecuted in Germany than in other belligerent nations because they were seen as “sexual traitors.” Foreign labor also fueled anxiety about sexual contact, which was why the military and civilian organizations increasingly turned their attention to controlling interactions with foreign men. Todd uses close analysis of case studies to reveal various forms of aggression by the state: women could be arrested just for talking to prisoners-of-war, and women who became pregnant as a result of affairs with foreigners faced jail time. But, in the eyes of the public, police investigations seemed ineffectual; as a result, many ordinary Germans took matters into their own hands and humiliated women publicly—with help from the press, which condemned and shamed adulterous war wives. By the end of the war, these women were characterized as enemies who had tainted German blood, a perception upon which the Nazis would later capitalize.

Many of the anxieties about fertility that would later drive Nazi policy originated during the years 1914-1918. Separation between men and women during the war, rising VD rates, changing gender roles, and mass death sparked fears about reproduction. In 1916, the Reichstag created a commission to tackle the falling birthrate crisis, but, despite expanded efforts to curb VD and promote pronatal policies, most people, Todd shows, did not prioritize national policies over family interest and individual desire when making sexual decisions. At the end of the war, wartime “experts” on sex reform and control nevertheless still saw themselves as authorities in shaping discourse, and accusations of “sexual treason” persisted in the wake of defeat and revolution. There were also deep political divisions and fragmented popular perceptions of sex reform, as well as a lack of consensus about birth control, abortion, and eugenics—all of which would carry over into the Weimar Republic and beyond.

Todd's engaging study is an excellent contribution to the history of gender and sexuality during World War I. Her arguments are supported by careful analysis of a wealth of archival sources, in particular letters and diaries, which provide a glimpse into the behavior of ordinary Germans and their perceptions of sexuality. This study should serve as a model for further research that goes beyond medical, state, and military policies. Todd's work, which illuminates diverse, intimate experiences in a variety of contexts, should inspire other historians to continue to explore the complex impact of total war on everyday attitudes toward sex. Specialists on the history of sexuality will profit from Todd's work, as will readers interested in the social and cultural history of modern war.