The history of nudism as a social movement of the 20th century (and its relative decline even though one might have expected otherwise with the sexual revolution) has always interested me - go and use the search bar at the side to find my previous post, if you want..
For more on this topic, there is an essay up at Aeon (which will require you to get past the "begging for donations" page which appears half way through it, but if you guess where the "X" is on the top right hand side, you can close it and continue.)
It explains the "high minded" attitude of (some) intellectuals of the early 20th century that it was a society changing, morally uplifting, movement:
The New York sociologist Maurice Parmelee was one US visitor who became a convert to the cause. His much-reprinted book Nudism in Modern Life: The New Gymnosophy
(1929) developed a theory of nakedness for an Anglophone readership. He
claimed that ‘gymnosophy’ – his preferred term, as an ancient Greek
word combining nakedness and wisdom – ‘stands for simplicity, temperance
and continence in every phase of life. It is useful in the rearing of
the young,’ he claimed, ‘in the relations between the sexes, and in
promoting a democratic and humane organisation of society.
Consequently,’ he argued, ‘the implications of gymnosophy extend far
beyond the practice of nudity alone, for it connotes a thoroughgoing
change in the outlook upon and mode of life.’
For Parmelee, and those who followed his line of thinking, nudism was
libertarian, democratic and humanitarian. He claimed it would deliver a
more egalitarian world, destroying class and caste systems, and
establishing gender equality. Nudism, he asserted, ‘is a powerful aid to
feminism, because it abolishes the artificial and unnecessary sex
barrier and distinction of dress. The gymnosophic movement is,’ he
believed, ‘the logical continuation and consummation of the woman’s
movement, for it at last brings woman into the man’s world and man into
the woman’s world, so that they can see each other as they really are.’
Parmelee’s study was illustrated with black-and-white photographs of
naked white German youths assuming expressionist dance poses or boldly
leaping for joy in the open air.
But, of course, the rise of readership of nudist magazines indicated that they were being bought for reasons other than moral uplift:
By the early 1930s, several nudist periodicals could be purchased cheaply from British newsstands, from the short-lived monthly Gymnos, which styled itself as ‘For Nudists Who Think’, to the longer-lasting quarterly Sun Bathing Review.
Both were populated with high-brow articles written by physicians,
psychiatrists and clergymen who detailed the physical, mental and
spiritual messages of the movement....
Sun Bathing Review particularly promoted its status as
‘copiously illustrated’, which ensured it a readership of 50,000 by its
second issue, far more than the quantities of practising nudists at the
time. ...
By the end of the 1930s, nudist membership was at an all-time high in
Britain, with around 40,000 members. New nudist magazines were launched,
boasting readerships of more than 100,000 per issue; evidently, more
people liked to look on than to join in. In wartime, nudists found new
justifications for their cause, when sun and air were reconceived as
‘unrationed benefits’, and public health was a national priority. The photographic nude also took on new meanings in a wider culture where pin-ups were achieving popularity as imports from the US....
Nudes were perceived as a national tonic under wartime conditions, and
their viewing was restorative. But nudists were aware that there could
be right and wrong ways of looking. A quiz in Sun Bathing Review
in 1945 asked: ‘How Good a Sun Bather are You?’ To pass the test,
readers were expected to be able to identify the Sun’s actinic and
abiotic rays, the relative merits of artificial sunlamps, and a list of
foods containing Vitamin D. ‘Good’
nudists were those who understood the practice intellectually. But
highly educated members worried that readers were looking at depictions
of flesh for less than scholarly aims. The experimental psychologist J C Flügel, for
example, had warned a 1938 meeting of the Sex Education Society that
‘even the editors of our nudist magazines must admit that most of their
readers are attracted by a sexual interest in the pictures’.
I've always found this funny: the dedication in the magazines themselves, and in censorship bodies, to the pretence that nudist magazines were only being read, or bought by, the "high minded" nudist.
The essay ends on a point about the apparent retreat from nudism acceptance on significant parts of the internet:
A hundred years after the first tentative attempts to establish nudism
as a collective cause in Britain, some of the founders’ ambitions may
seem wrongheaded, quaint or merely curious. But as I assembled my recent
book on the subject, Nudism in a Cold Climate: The Visual Culture of Naturists in Mid-20th-Century Britain
(2022), the echoes of their claims were still everywhere to be heard. A
book about nude photography with a nude on the cover still cannot be
sold on most bookselling platforms in the 21st century.
Facebook and Instagram will not allow uncensored images from the book’s
contents to be shown, even those with historic retouching or otherwise
concealed pubic areas. Breasts and buttocks, deemed harmless a century
ago, are now forbidden by social media moderators, our new censors.
Nudists have long argued that seeing the bodies of others would open
minds from repressive tradition and lead to a fairer world based on
knowledge. The 50-year moral battles that were won for photography in
print in the 1970s are still being fought on social media more than 50 years later.
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