The Path of Empire,
by
Carl Russell Fish
Part 3 out of 4
Take up the White Man's burden--
Send forth the best ye breed--
Go bind your sons to exile
To serve your captives' need;
To wait in heavy harness,
On fluttered folk and wild--
Your new caught, sullen peoples,
Half-devil and half-child.
Take up the White Man's burden--
And reap his old reward
The blame of those ye better,
The hate of those ye guard--
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah, slowly!) towards the light:--
Why brought ye us from bondage,
Our loved Egyptian night?
McKinley asked those having opinions on the subject of this
burden to write to him, and a strong call for the United States
to take up her share in the regeneration of mankind came from
important representatives of the religious public. Nor was the
attitude of those different who saw the possibilities of
increased traffic with the East. The expansion of the area of
home distribution seemed a halfway house between the purely
nationalistic policy, which was becoming a little irksome, and
the competition of the open world.
It was not, however, the urging of these forces alone which made
the undecided feel that the annexation of the Philippines was
bound to come. The situation itself seemed to offer no other
solution. Gradually evidence as to the local conditions reached
America. The Administration was anxious for the commissioners to
have the latest information, and, as Admiral Dewey remained
indispensable at Manila, General Merritt was ordered to report at
Paris, where he arrived on the 6th of October. He was of the
opinion that the Americans must remain in the Philippines, and
his reports were sustained by a cablegram from Dewey on the 14th
of October reading: "Spanish authority has been completely
destroyed in Luzon, and general anarchy prevails without the
limits of the city and Bay of Manila. Strongly probable that
islands to the south will fall into the same state soon." The
history of the previous few years and existing conditions made it
highly improbable that Spanish domination could ever be restored.
The withdrawal of the United States would therefore not mean the
reestablishment of Spanish rule but no government at all.
As to the regime which would result from our withdrawal, Admiral
Dewey judged from the condition of those areas where Spanish
authority had already ceased and that of the Americans had not
yet been established. "Distressing reports," he cabled, "have
been received of inhuman cruelty practised on religious and civil
authorities in other parts of these islands. The natives appear
unable to govern." It was highly probable, in fact, that if the
United States did not take the islands, Spain would sell her
vanishing equity in the property to some other power which
possessed the equipment necessary to conquer the Philippines. To
many this eventuality did not seem objectionable, as is indicated
by the remark, already quoted, of an American official to certain
Germans: "We don't want the Philippines; why don't you take
them?" That this attitude was foolishly Quixotic is obvious, but
more effective in the molding of public opinion was the feeling
that it was cowardly.
In such a changing condition of public sentiment, McKinley was a
better index of what the majority wanted than a referendum could
have been. In August he stated: "I do not want any ambiguity to
be allowed to remain on this point. The negotiators of both
countries are the ones who shall resolve upon the permanent
advantages which we shall ask in the archipelago, and decide upon
the intervention, disposition, and government of the
Philippines." His instructions to the commissioners actually went
farther:
"Avowing unreservedly the purpose which has animated all our
effort, and still solicitous to adhere to it, we cannot be
unmindful that, without any desire or design on our part, the war
has brought us new duties and responsibilities which we must meet
and discharge as becomes a great nation on whose growth and
career from the beginning the Ruler of Nations has plainly
written the high command and pledge of civilization.
"Incidental to our tenure in the Philippines is the commercial
opportunity to which American statesmanship cannot be
indifferent.... Asking only the open door for ourselves, we are
ready to accord the open door to others.
"In view of what has been stated, the United States cannot accept
less than the cession in full rights and sovereignty of the
island of Luzon."
The American commissioners were divided. Day favored the limited
terms of the instructions; Davis, Frye, and Reid wished the whole
group of the Philippines; Gray emphatically protested against
taking any part of the islands. On the 26th of October, Hay
telegraphed that the President had decided that "the cession must
be of the whole Archipelago or none." The Spanish commissioners
objected strongly to this new development, and threatened to
break off the negotiations which otherwise were practically
concluded. This outcome would have put the United States in the
unfortunate position of continuing a war which it had begun in
the interests of Cuba for the quite different purpose of securing
possession of the Philippines. The Spanish were probably not
without hopes that under these changed conditions they might be
able to bring to their active assistance that latent sympathy for
them which existed so strongly in Europe. Nor was the basis of
the claim of the United States entirely clear. On the 3d of
November the American commissioners cabled to the President that
they were convinced that the occupation of Manila did not
constitute a conquest of the islands as a whole.
By this time, however, the President had decided that the United
States must have the islands. On the 13th of November, Hay
telegraphed that the United States was entitled to an indemnity
for the cost of the war. This argument was not put forward
because the United States wished indemnity but to give a
technical basis for the American claim to the Philippines. In the
same cablegram, Hay instructed the commissioners to offer Spain
ten or twenty millions for all the islands. Upon this financial
basis the treaty was finally concluded; it was signed on December
10, 1898; and ratifications were exchanged on April 11, 1899.
The terms of the treaty provided, first, for the relinquishment
of sovereignty over Cuba by Spain. The island was to be occupied
by the United States, in whose hands its subsequent disposition
was left. All other Spanish islands in the West Indies, together
with Guam in the Ladrones, were ceded to the United States. The
whole archipelago of the Philippines, with water boundaries
carefully but not quite accurately drawn, was ceded to the United
States, which by the same article agreed to pay Spain
$20,000,000. All claims for indemnity or damages between the two
nations, or either nation and the citizens of the other, were
mutually relinquished, the United States assuming the
adjudication and settlement of all claims of her own citizens
against Spain.
This treaty, even more than the act of war, marked a turning
point in the relation of the United States to the outside world.
So violent was the opposition of those who disapproved, and so
great the reluctance of even the majority of those who approved,
to acknowledge that the United States had emerged from the
isolated path which it had been treading since 1823, that every
effort was made to minimize the significance of the beginning of
a new era in American history. It was argued by those delving
into the past that the Philippines actually belonged to the
Western Hemisphere because the famous demarcation line drawn by
Pope Alexander VI, in 1493, ran to the west of them; it was,
indeed, partly in consequence of that line that Spain had
possessed the islands. Before Spain lost Mexico her Philippine
trade had actually passed across the Pacific, through the Mexican
port of Acapulco, and across the Atlantic. Yet these interesting
historical facts were scarcely related in the mind of the public
to the more immediate and tangible fact that the annexation of
the Philippines gave the United States a far-flung territory
situated just where all the powerful nations of the world were
then centering their interest.
In opposition to those who disapproved of this extension of
territory, it was argued more cogently that, in spite of the
prevailing belief of the thirty preceding years, the United
States had always been an expanding power, stretching its
authority over new areas with a persistency and rapidity hardly
equaled by any other nation, and that this latest step was but a
new stride in the natural expansion of the United States. But
here again the similarity between the former and the most recent
steps was more apparent than real. Louisiana, Florida, Texas,
California, and Oregon, had all been parts of an obvious
geographical whole. Alaska, indeed, was detached, but its
acquisition had been partly accidental, and it was at least a
part of the American continent and would, in the opinion of many,
eventually become contiguous by the probable annexation of
Canada. Moreover, none of the areas so far occupied by the United
States had been really populated. It had been a logical
expectation that American people would soon overflow these
acquired lands and assimilate the inhabitants. In the case of the
Philippines, on the other hand, it was fully recognized that
Americans could at most be only a small governing class, and that
even Porto Rico, accessible as it was, would prove too thickly
settled to give hopes of Americanization.
The terms of the treaty with Spain, indeed, recognized these
differences. In all previous instances, except Alaska, the added
territory had been incorporated into the body of the United
States with the expectation, now realized except in Hawaii, of
reaching the position of self-governing and participating States
of the Union. Even in the case of Alaska it had been provided
that all inhabitants remaining in residence, except uncivilized
Indians, should become citizens of the United States. In the case
of these new annexations resulting from the war with Spain,
provision was made only for the religious freedom of the
inhabitants. "The civil rights and political status of the native
inhabitants of the territories hereby ceded to the United States
shall be determined by the Congress." There could therefore be no
doubt that for the first time the United States had acquired
colonies and that the question whether they should develop into
integral parts of the country or into dependencies of an
imperialistic republic was left to the future to decide.
It was but natural that such striking events and important
decisions should loom large as factors in the following
presidential campaign. The Republicans endorsed the
Administration, emphatically stated that the independence and
self-government of Cuba must be secured, and, with reference to
the other islands, declared that "the largest measure of
self-government consistent with their welfare and our duties
shall be secured to them by law." The Democrats asserted that "no
nation can long endure half republic and half empire," and
favored "an immediate declaration of the Nation's purpose to give
the Filipinos, first, a stable form of government; second,
independence; and third, protection from outside interference
such as has been given for nearly a century to the republics of
Central and South America." The Democrats were at a disadvantage
owing to the fact that, since so much had been irrevocably
accomplished, they could not raise the whole issue of colonial
expansion but only advocate a different policy for the handling
of what seemed to most people to be details. The distrust which
their financial program of 1896 had excited, moreover, still hung
over them and repelled many voters who might have supported them
on questions of foreign and colonial policies. Nevertheless the
reflection of President McKinley by a greatly increased majority
must be taken as indicating that the American people generally
approved of his policies and accepted the momentous changes which
had been brought about by the successful conclusion of the war
with Spain.
CHAPTER XIII. A Peace Which Meant War
In a large way, ever since the Spanish War, the United States has
been adjusting its policy to the world conditions of which that
struggle first made the people aware. The period between 1898 and
1917 will doubtless be regarded by the historian a hundred years
from now as a time of transition similar to that between 1815 and
1829. In that earlier period John Marshall and John Quincy Adams
did much by their wisdom and judgment to preserve what was of
value in the old regime for use in the new. In the later period
John Hay performed, though far less completely, a somewhat
similar function.
John Hay had an acquaintance with the best traditions of American
statesmanship which falls to the lot of few men. He was private
secretary to Lincoln during the Civil War, he had as his most
intimate friend in later life Henry Adams, the historian, who
lived immersed in the memories and traditions of a family which
has taken a distinguished part in the Government of the United
States from its beginning. Possessed of an ample fortune, Hay had
lived much abroad and in the society of the men who governed
Europe. He was experienced in newspaper work and in diplomacy,
and he came to be Secretary of State fresh from a residence in
England where as Ambassador he had enjoyed wide popularity. With
a lively wit and an engaging charm of manner, he combined a
knowledge of international law and of history which few of our
Secretaries have possessed. Moreover he knew men and how to
handle them. Until the death of McKinley in 1901 he was left
almost free in the administration of his office. He once said
that the President spoke to him of his office scarcely once a
month. In the years from 1901 to 1905 he worked under very
different conditions, for President Roosevelt discussed affairs
of state with him daily and took some matters entirely into his
own hands.
Hay found somewhat better instruments to work with than most
Americans were inclined to believe probable. It is true that the
American diplomatic service abroad has not always reflected
credit upon the country. It has contained extremely able and
distinguished men but also many who have been stupid, ignorant,
and ill-mannered. The State Department in Washington, however,
has almost escaped the vicissitudes of politics and has been
graced by the long and disinterested service of competent
officials. From 1897 to 1913, moreover, the service abroad was
built up on the basis of continuity and promotion.
One sign of a new epoch was the changed attitude of the American
public toward annexation. While the war was in progress the
United States yielded to the desires of Hawaii, and annexed the
islands as a part of the United States, with the hope of their
eventual statehood. In 1899 the United States consented to change
the cumbrous and unsuccessful arrangement by which, in
partnership with Great Britain and Germany, it had supervised the
native government of Samoa. No longer unwilling to acquire
distant territories, the United States took in full possession
the island of Tutuila, with its harbor of Pago Pago, and
consented to Germany's taking the remainder of the islands, while
Great Britain received compensation elsewhere. In 1900 the
Government paid over to Spain $100,000 for Sibutu and Cagayan
Sulu, two islands really belonging to the Philippines but
overlooked in the treaty. Proud of the navy and with a new
recognition of its necessities, the United States sought naval
stations in those areas where the fleet might have to operate. In
the Pacific the Government obtained Midway and Wake islands in
1900. In the West Indies, the harbor of Guantanamo was secured
from Cuba, and in 1903 a treaty was made with Denmark for the
purchase of her islands--which, however, finally became American
possessions only in 1917.
By her policy toward Cuba, the United States gave the world a
striking example of observing the plighted word even when
contrary to the national interest. For a century the United
States had expected to acquire the "Pearl of the Antilles." Spain
in the treaty of peace refused to recognize the Cuban Government
and relinquished the island into the hands of the United States.
The withdrawal of the Spanish troops left the Cuban Government
utterly unable to govern, and the United States was forced to
occupy the island. Nevertheless the Government had begun the war
with a recognition of Cuban independence and to that declaration
it adhered. The country gave the best of its talent to make the
islands self-governing as quickly as possible. Harvard University
invited Cuban teachers to be its guests at a summer session.
American medical men labored with a martyr's devotion to stamp
out disease. General Wood, as military governor, established
order and justice and presided over the evolution of a convention
assembled to draft a constitution for the people of Cuba and to
determine the relations of the United States and Cuba. These
relations, indeed, were already under consideration at Washington
and were subsequently embodied in the Platt Amendment.* This
measure directed the President to leave the control of Cuba to
the people of the island as soon as they should agree to its
terms. It also required that the Government of Cuba should never
allow a foreign power to impair its independence; that it would
contract no debt for which it could not provide a sinking fund
from the ordinary revenue; that it would grant to the United
States "lands necessary for coaling or naval stations"; that it
would provide for the sanitation of its cities; and that the
United States should have the right to intervene, "for the
preservation of Cuban independence, the maintenance of a
government adequate for the protection of life, property, and
individual liberty, and for discharging" certain obligations with
respect to Spanish subjects which the United States had assumed
in the treaty signed at Paris. After some hesitation the
convention added these provisions to the new constitution of
Cuba. On May 20, 1902, the American troops withdrew, leaving Cuba
in better condition than she had ever been before. Subsequently
the United States was forced to intervene to preserve order, but,
though the temptation was strong to remain, the American troops
again withdrew after they had done their constructive work. The
voluntary entrance of Cuba into the Great War in cooperation with
the United States was a tribute to the generosity and honesty of
the American people.
* An amendment to the Army Appropriation Bill of March 2, 1901.
Porto Rico presented a problem different from that which the
United States had to solve in Cuba. There existed no native
organization which could supply even the basis for the formation
of a government. The people seemed, indeed, to have no desire for
independence, and public sentiment in the United States generally
favored the permanent possession of the island. After a period of
rule entirely at the discretion of the President, Congress
established in 1900 a form of government based on that of the
American territories. Porto Rico remained, however,
unincorporated into the Union, and it was long doubtful whether
it would remain a dependency or would ultimately attain
statehood. In 1917, however, the degree of self-government was
increased, and the inhabitants were made American citizens. It
now seems probable that the island will ultimately become a State
of the Union.
Meanwhile on the other side of the world the United States had a
more unpleasant task. The revolted Filipinos, unlike the Cubans,
had not declared themselves for independence but for redress of
grievances. The United States had assisted Aguinaldo, at the
moment in exile, to return to the islands after the Battle of
Manila Bay but had not officially recognized him as having
authority. When he saw Spanish power disappearing under American
blows, he declared himself in favor of the abolition of all
foreign rule. This declaration, of course, in no way bound the
United States, to whom the treaty with Spain, the only recognized
sovereign, ceded the island absolutely. There was no flaw in the
title of the United States, and there were no obligations, save
those of humanity, to bind the Americans in their treatment of
the natives. Nevertheless, the great majority of Americans would
doubtless have gladly favored a policy similar to that pursued in
the case of Cuba, had it seemed in any way practicable.
Unfortunately, however, the Filipinos did not constitute a nation
but only a congeries of peoples and tribes of differing race and
origin, whom nearly four centuries of Spanish rule had not been
able to make live at peace with one another. Some were
Christians, some Mohammedans, some heathen savages; some wore
European clothes, some none at all. The particular tribe which
formed the chief support of Aguinaldo, the Tagalogs, comprised
less than one half of the population of the island of Luzon. The
United States had taken the islands largely because it did not
see any one else to whom it could properly shift the burden. The
shoulders of the Tagalogs did not seem broad enough for the
responsibility.
The United States prepared, therefore, to carry on the task which
it had assumed, while Aguinaldo, with his army circling Manila,
prepared to dispute its title. On February 4, 1899, actual
hostilities broke out. By this time Aguinaldo had a capital at
Malolos, thirty miles north of Manila, a government, thirty or
forty thousand troops, and an influence which he was extending
throughout the islands by means of secret organizations and
superstitious appeals. This seemed a puny strength to put forth
against the United States but various circumstances combined to
make the contest less unequal than it seemed, and the outcome was
probably more in doubt than that in the war with Spain.
The United States had at the moment but fourteen thousand men in
the islands, under the command of General Otis. Some of these
were volunteers who had been organized to fight Spain and who
could not be held after the ratification of peace. Congress had,
indeed, provided for an increase in the regular army, but not
sufficient to provide the "40,000 effectives for the field," whom
Otis had requested in August, 1899. There were, of course, plenty
of men available in America for service in the Philippines, and
finally twelve regiments of volunteers were raised, two of which
were composed of negroes. Aguinaldo's strength lay in the
configuration of the country, in its climate, which for four
centuries had prevented a complete conquest by the Spaniards, and
in the uncertainty which he knew existed as to how far the
American people would support a war waged apparently for
conquest, against the wishes of the Filipinos. On the other hand,
the chief advantages of the American forces lay in Aguinaldo's
lack of arms and in the power of the American Navy, which
confined the fighting for the most part to Luzon.
In March, General MacArthur began to move to the north, and on
the last day of that month he entered Malolos. On the 23d of
April he pushed farther northward toward Calumpit, where the
Filipino generalissimo, Luna, had prepared a position which he
declared to be impregnable. This brief campaign added a new
favorite to the American roll of honor, for it was here that
Colonel Funston, at the head of his gallant Kansans, crossed the
rivers Bag-bag and Rio Grande, under circumstances that gave the
individual American soldier a prestige in the eyes of the
Filipinos and a reputation which often ran far ahead of the army.
General Luna had torn up the ties and rails of the steel railroad
bridge over the Bag-bag, and had let down the span next the far
bank. Thus cut off from attack by a deep river two hundred feet
wide, the Filipino commander had entrenched his forces on the
farther side. Shielded by fields of young corn and bamboo
thickets, the Americans approached the bank of the river. A naval
gun on an armored train bombarded the Filipinos but could not
silence their trenches. It was therefore necessary to cross an
the bridge, and under fire. General Wheaton ordered Colonel
Funston to seize the bridge. With about ten men Funston rushed
the nearer end which stood in the open. Working themselves along
the girders, the men finally reached the broken span. Beyond
that, swimming was the only method of reaching the goal. Leaving
their guns behind them, Colonel Funston and three others swung
themselves off the bridge and into the stream. Quite unarmed, the
four landed and rushed the nearest trenches. Fortunately these
had been abandoned under American fire, and rifles and cartridges
had been left behind. Thus this aquatic charge by unarmed men
secured the bridge and enabled the American troops to cross.
Not far beyond was the Rio Grande, four hundred feet broad and
crossed by another railroad bridge that must be taken. Here again
the task was entrusted to Colonel Funston and the Twentieth
Kansas. This time they found an old raft. Two privates stripped
and swam across with a rope. Landing unarmed on the enemy's side
of the river, they fastened their rope to a part of the very
trench works of the Filipinos. With this connection established,
Colonel Funston improvised a ferry and was soon on the enemy's
side with supports. A stiff, unequal fight remained, as the ferry
carried but six men on each trip. The bank was soon won, however,
and the safe crossing of the army was assured. Such acts gave the
natives a respect for Americans as fighting men, which caused it
to be more and more difficult for the Filipino commanders to
bring their forces to battle in the open.
General Lawton in the meantime was conducting a brilliant
movement to the eastward. After breaking the enemy forces, he
returned to Manila and then marched southward into the Tagalog
country, where on the 13th of June, at Zapoti Bridge, he won the
most stoutly contested battle of the insurrection. The successful
conclusion of these operations brought the most civilized part of
the island under American control.
The fighting now became scattered and assumed gradually a
guerrilla character. The abler commanders of the American forces
found their way to the top, and the troops, with their natural
adaptability, constantly devised new methods of meeting new
situations. A war of strangely combined mountain and sea
fighting, involving cavalry and infantry and artillery, spread
over the islands in widening circles and met with lessening
resistance. An indication of the new character of the war was
given by the change of the military organization, in April, 1900,
from one of divisions and brigades, to a geographical basis. Each
commander was now given charge of a certain area and used his men
to reduce this district to order.
The insurgents fought in small groups and generally under local
chieftains. Their advantage lay in their thorough knowledge of
the country and in the sympathy of a part of the population and
the fear of another part, for outlaws living in concealment and
moving in the dark can often inspire a terror which regular
troops under discipline fail to engender. The Americans could not
trust the natives, as it was impossible to tell the truthful from
the treacherous. Nevertheless it was a kind of fighting which
gave unusual scope for that American individualism, so strongly
represented in the army, to which the romance of precisely this
sort of thing had drawn just the class of men best fitted for the
work. Scouting, counter scouting, surprise attacks, and
ambuscades formed the daily news transmitted from the front--
affairs not of regiments and companies but of squads and
individuals. When face to face, however, the Filipinos seldom
stood their ground, and the American ingenuity and eager
willingness to attempt any new thing gradually got the better of
the local knowledge and unscrupulousness as to the laws of war
which had at first, given the natives an advantage. Funston, now
Brigadier General, and his "suicide squad" continued to play an
active part, but a similar spirit of daring and ingenuity
pervaded the whole army.
Broken as were the Filipino field forces and widening as was the
area of peace, the result of the island campaign was still
uncertain. It rested upon two unknown quantities. The first was
the nature of the Filipinos. Would they remain irreconcilable,
ever ready to take advantage of a moment of weakness? If such
were to be the case, we could look for no real conquest, but only
a forcible occupation, which the people of the United States
would never consent to maintain. The second unknown quantity was
the American people themselves. Would they sustain the occupation
sufficiently long to give a reasonable test of the possibilities
of success?
Two events brought these uncertainties to an end. In the first
place, William Jennings Bryan was defeated for the presidency in
November, 1900, and President McKinley was given four more years
in which to complete the experiment. In the second place, on
March 23, 1901, Aguinaldo, who had been long in concealment, was
captured. Though there had long been no possibility of really
commanding the insurgent forces as a whole, Aguinaldo had
remained the center of revolt and occasionally showed his hand,
as in the attempt to negotiate a peace on the basis of
independence. In February an intercepted letter had given a clue
to his hiding place. Funston, in spite of his new rank,
determined personally to undertake the capture. The signature of
Lacuna, one of the insurgent leaders, was forged and letters were
sent to Aguinaldo informing him of the capture of five Americans,
who were being sent to headquarters. Among the five was Funston
himself. The "insurgent" guard, clad in captured uniforms,
consisted for the most part of Macabebes, hereditary enemies of
the Tagalogs--for the Americans had now learned the Roman trick
of using one people against another. The ruse succeeded
perfectly. The guard and its supposed prisoners were joyfully
received by Aguinaldo, but the tables were quickly turned and
Aguinaldo's capture was promptly effected.
On the 19th of April, Aguinaldo wrote: "After mature
deliberation, I resolutely proclaim to the world that I cannot
refuse to heed the voice of a people longing for peace, nor the
lamentations of thousands of families yearning to see their dear
ones enjoying the liberty and promised generosity of the great
American nation. By acknowledging and accepting the sovereignty
of the United States throughout the Philippine Archipelago, as I
now do, and without any reservation whatsoever, I believe that I
am serving thee, my beloved country."
On the 19th of May, General Wheaton, Chief of Staff in the
Philippines, sent the following dispatch to Washington: "Lacuna
having surrendered with all his officers and men today, I report
that all insurrectionary leaders in this department have been
captured or have surrendered. This is the termination of the
state of war in this department so far as armed resistance to the
authority of the United States is concerned."
There was subsequent fighting with other tribes and in other
islands, particularly with the Moros of the Sulu group, but by
the time Aguinaldo had accepted American rule, the uncertainty of
the American people had been resolved, and the execution of the
treaty with Spain had been actually accomplished. As seventy
thousand troops were no longer needed in the islands, the
volunteers and many of the regulars were sent home, and there
began an era of peace such as the Philippines had never before
known.
During the suppression of the insurrection the American Army had
resorted to severe measures, though they by no means went to the
extremes that were reported in the press. It was realized,
however, that the establishment of a permanent peace must rest
upon an appeal to the good will and self-interest of the natives.
The treatment of the conquered territories, therefore, was a
matter of the highest concern not only with reference to the
public opinion at home but to the lasting success of the military
operations which had just been concluded.
There was as yet no law in the United States relating to the
government of dependencies. The entire control of the islands
therefore rested, in the first instance, with the President and
was vested by him, subject to instructions, in the Military
Governor. The army fortunately reflected fully the democratic
tendencies of the United States as a whole. In June, 1899,
General Lawton encouraged and assisted the natives in setting up
in their villages governing bodies of their own selection. In
August, he issued a general order, based upon a law of the
islands, providing for a general system of local government into
which there was introduced for the first time the element of
really popular election. In 1900, a new code of criminal
procedure, largely the work of Enoch Herbert Crowder, at that
time Military Secretary, was promulgated, which surrounded the
accused with practically all the safeguards to which the
Anglo-Saxon is accustomed except jury trial, for which the people
were unprepared.
To advise with regard to a permanent system of government for the
Philippines President McKinley appointed in January, 1899, a
commission consisting of Jacob G. Schurman, President of Cornell
University, Dean C. Worcester, who had long been engaged in
scientific research in the Philippines, Colonel Charles Denby,
for many years previously minister to China, Admiral Dewey, and
General E. S. Otis. Largely upon their recommendation, the
President appointed a second commission, headed by Judge William
Howard Taft to carry on the work of organizing civil government
which had already begun under military direction and gradually to
take over the legislative power. The Military Governor was to
continue to exercise executive power. In 1901, Congress at length
took action, vesting all military, civil, and judicial powers in
such persons as the President might appoint to govern the
islands. McKinley immediately appointed Judge Taft to the new
governorship thus authorized. In 1901 in the "Insular Cases" the
Supreme Court also gave its sanction to what had been done. In
legislation for the territories, it held that Congress was not
bound by all the restrictions of the Constitution, as, for
instance, that requiring jury trial; that Porto Rico and the
Philippines were neither foreign countries nor completely parts
of the United States, though Congress was at liberty to
incorporate them into the Union.
There was, however, no disposition to incorporate the Philippines
into the United States, but there has always been a widespread
sentiment that the islands should ultimately be given their
independence, and this sentiment has largely governed the
American attitude toward them. A native Legislature was
established in 1907 under Governor Taft,* and under the Wilson
Administration the process toward independence has been
accelerated, and dates begin to be considered. The process of
preparation for independence has been threefold: the development
of the physical well-being of the islands, the education of the
islanders, and the gradual introduction of the latter into
responsible positions of government. With little of the
encouragement which might have come from appreciative interest at
home, thousands of Americans have now labored in the Philippines
for almost twenty years, but with little disposition to settle
there permanently. Their efforts to develop the Filipinos have
achieved remarkable success. It has of late been found possible
to turn over such a large proportion of the governmental work to
the natives that the number of Americans in the islands is
steadily diminishing. The outbreak of the war with Germany found
the natives loyal to American interests and even saw a son of
Aguinaldo taking service under the Stars and Stripes. Such a
tribute, like the services of Generals Smuts and Botha to Great
Britain, compensates for the friction and noise with which
democracy works and is the kind of triumph which carries
reassurance of its ultimate efficiency and justice.
* By the Act of July 1, 1902, the Legislature was to consist of
two houses, the Commission acting as an upper house and an
elective assembly constituting a lower house. The Legislature at
its first session was to elect two delegates who were to sit,
without the right to vote, in the House of Representatives at
Washington. An Act of August 29, 1916, substituted an elective
Senate for the Philippine Commission as the upper house of the
Legislature.
CHAPTER XIV. The Open Door
The United States arrived in the Orient at a moment of high
excitement. Russia was consolidating the advance of two centuries
by the building of the trans-Siberian railroad, and was looking
eagerly for a port in the sun, to supplement winter-bound
Vladivostok. Great Britain still regarded Russia as the great
enemy and, pursuing her policy of placing buffer states between
her territories and her enemies, was keenly interested in
preventing any encroachment southward which might bring the
Russian bear nearer India. France, Russia's ally, possessed
IndoChina, which was growing at the expense of Siam and which
might grow northwards into China. Germany saw in eastern Asia the
richest prize remaining in the world not yet possessed by her
rivals, and it was for this that she was seeking power in the
Pacific. Having missed the Philippines, she quickly secured Samoa
and purchased from Spain the Caroline Islands, east of the
Philippines, and all that the United States had not taken of
Spain's empire in the Pacific.
These latent rivalries had been brought into the open by the
Chino-Japanese War of 1894-1895, which showed the powerlessness
of China. The western world was, indeed, divided in opinion as to
whether this colossus of the East was essentially rotten, old,
decrepit, and ready to disintegrate, or was merely weak because
of arrested development, which education and training could
correct. At any rate, China was regarded as sick and therefore
became for the moment even more interesting than Turkey, the
traditional sick man of Europe. If China were to die, her estate
would be divided. If she were really to revitalize her vast bulk
by adapting her millions to modern ways, she had but to stretch
herself and the toilfully acquired Asiatic possessions of the
European powers would shiver to pieces; and if she awoke angry,
Europe herself might well tremble. The really wise saw that the
important thing was to determine the kind of education which
China should receive, and in solving this problem the palm of
wisdom must be given to the missionaries who represented the
great Christian societies of Europe and America. To small-minded
statesmen it seemed that the situation called for conquest. No
nation was willing to be late at the division, if division it was
to be; while if China was to awake, the European powers felt that
she should awake shackled. By no one was this latter view so
clearly held as by the Kaiser. With his accustomed versatility,
he designed a cartoon showing the European powers, armed and with
Germania in the forefront, confronting the yellow peril. On
sending his troops to China in 1900, he told them to imitate the
methods of the Huns, in order to strike lasting terror to the
hearts of the yellow race. By such means he sought to direct
attention to the menace of the Barbarian, when he was himself
first stating that doctrine of Teutonic frightfulness which has
proved, in our day at least, to be the real world peril.
It was Japan who had exposed the weakness of the giant, but her
victory had been so easy that her own strength was as yet
untested. Japan had come of age in 1894 when, following the
example of Great Britain, the various powers had released her
from the obligation of exterritoriality imposed upon her by
treaties when their subjects were unwilling to trust themselves
to her courts. It was still uncertain, however, whether the
assumption of European methods by Japan was real, and her
position as a great power was not yet established. In the very
moment of her triumph over China she was forced to submit to the
humiliation of having the terms of peace supervised by a concert
of powers and of having many of the spoils of her victory torn
from her.
The chief fruits that remained to Japan from her brilliant
military victory were Formosa and the recognition of the
separation of Korea from China: These acquisitions gave her an
opportunity to show her capacity for real expansion, but whether
she would be able to hold her prize was yet to be proven. The
European states, however, claimed that by the Japanese victories
the balance of power in the Orient had been upset and that it
must be adjusted. The obvious method was for each power to demand
something for itself. In 1898 Germany secured a lease of
Kiao-chau Bay across the Yellow Sea from Korea, which she at once
fortified and where she proceeded to develop a port with the hope
of commanding the trade of all that part of China. Russia in the
same way secured, somewhat farther to the north, Port Arthur and
Talien-wan, and proceeded to build Dalny as the commercial outlet
of her growing railroad. Great Britain immediately occupied
Wei-hai-wei, which was midway between the German and Russian
bases and commanded from the south the entrance to Pekin, and
also, much farther to the south, Mirs Bay, which gave security to
her commercial center at Hong-kong. France took Kwang-chau, still
farther to the south, and Italy received Sanmen, somewhat to the
south of the Yangtszekiang. From these ports each power hoped to
extend a sphere of influence. It was axiomatic that such a sphere
would be most rapidly developed and most solidly held if special
tariff regulations were devised to throw the trade into the hands
of the merchants of the nation holding the port. The next step,
therefore, in establishing the solidity of an Asiatic base, would
be the formulation of special tariffs. The result would be the
practical division of China into districts having different and
opposed commercial interests.
The United States did not arrive in this energetic company as an
entire stranger. With both China and Japan her relations had long
been intimate and friendly. American merchants had traded ginseng
and furs for China silks and teas ever since the United States
had been a nation. In 1786 the Government had appointed a
commercial agent at Canton and in 1844 had made one of the first
commercial treaties with China. In 1854 the United States had
been the point of the foreign wedge that opened Japan to western
civilization and inaugurated that amazing period of national
reorganization and assimilation which has given the Japanese
Empire her place in they world today. American missionaries had
labored long and disinterestedly for the moral regeneration of
both China and Japan with results which are now universally
recognized as beneficial, though in 1900 there was still among
the Chinese much of that friction which is the inevitable
reaction from an attempt to change the fundamentals of an ancient
faith and long-standing habits. American merchants, it is true,
had been of all classes, but at any rate there had always been a
sufficient leaven of those of the highest type to insure a
reasonable reputation.
The conduct of the American Government in the Far East had been
most honorable and friendly. The treaty with Japan in 1858
contained the clause: "The President of the United States, at the
request of the Japanese Government, will act as a friendly
mediator in such matters of difference as may arise between the
Government of Japan and any European power." Under Seward the
United States did, indeed, work in concert with European powers
to force the opening of the Shimonoseki Straits in 1864, and a
revision of the tariff in 1866. Subsequently, however, the United
States cooperated with Japan in her effort to free herself from
certain disadvantageous features of early treaties. In 1883 the
United States returned the indemnity received at the time of the
Shimonoseki affair--an example of international equity almost
unique at the time but subsequently paralleled in American
relations with China. The one serious difficulty existing in the
relationships of the United States with both China and Japan
resulted from an unwillingness to receive their natives as
immigrants when people of nearly every other country were
admitted. The American attitude had already been expressed in the
Chinese Exclusion Act. As yet the chief difficulty was with that
nation, but it was inevitable that such distinctions would prove
particularly galling to the rising spirit of the Japanese.
John Hay was keenly aware of the possibilities involved in these
Far Eastern events. Of profound moment under any circumstances,
they were doubly so now that the United States was territorially
involved. To take a slice of this Eastern area was a course quite
open to the United States and one which some of the powers at
least would have welcomed. Hay, however, wrote to Paul Dana on
March 16, 1899, as follows: "We are, of course, opposed to the
dismemberment of that empire [China], and we do not think that
t2he public opinion of the United States would justify this
Government in taking part in the great game of spoliation now
going on." He felt also that the United States should not tie its
hands by "formal alliances with other Powers interested," nor was
he prepared "to assure China that we would join her in repelling
that demand by armed force."
It remained, then, for the Secretary of State to find a lever for
peaceful interference on the part of his country and a plan for
future operations. The first he found in the commercial interest
of the United States. Since the Government refrained from
pressing for special favors in any single part of the Chinese
Empire, it could demand that American interests be not infringed
anywhere. The Secretary of State realized that in a democracy
statesmen cannot overlook the necessity of condensing their
policies into popular catchwords or slogans. Today such phrases
represent in large measure the power referred to in the old
saying: "Let me make the songs of a nation, and I care not who
makes its laws." The single phrase, "scrap of paper," probably
cost Germany more than any one of her atrocious deeds in the
Great War. Hay's policy with regard to China had the advantage of
two such phrases. The "golden rule," however, proved less lasting
than the "open door," which was coined apparently in the
instructions to the Paris Peace Commission. This phrase expressed
just what the United States meant. The precise plan of the
American Government was outlined and its execution undertaken in
a circular note of September 6, 1899, which the Secretary of
State addressed to London, Berlin, and St. Petersburg. In this he
asked the powers to agree to respect all existing open ports and
established interests within their respective spheres, to enforce
the Chinese tariff and no other, and to refrain from all
discrimination in port and railroad charges. To make such a
proposal to the European powers required courage. In its
essential elements the situation in the Far East was not unlike
the internal economic condition prevailing at the same time in
the United States. In this country great transportation
monopolies had been built up, having an enormous capitalization,
and many of them were dependent for their profits on the
advantage of price fixing that monopoly may be expected to bring.
Then state and nation stepped in and asserted their right to fix
prices in the interest of the consumer. The consequent political
struggles illustrate the difficulties besetting the Secretary of
State in his somewhat similar attempt to take the chief fruits
from the powers which had just acquired Chinese territory--an
undertaking in which he had none of the support of legal powers
effective in the United States.
That Hay so promptly succeeded in putting at least a toe in the
door which he wished to open was due to a number of
circumstances. Great Britain, devoted to the principle of free
trade, heartily approved of his proposal and at once accepted its
terms. The other powers expressed their sympathy with the ideas
of the note, but, in the case of Russia at least, without the
faintest intention of paying any heed to it. Hay promptly
notified each power of the others' approval and stated that, with
this unanimous consent, he would regard its acceptance of the
proposals as "final and definitive."
The force which Hay had used was the moral influence of world
opinion. None of the powers dared, with its hands fresh filled
with Chinese plunder, openly to assert that it had taken the
spoils for selfish reasons alone--at least, after another power
had denied such purpose. Hay saw and capitalized the force of
conventional morality which, however superficial in many cases,
had influenced the European powers, particularly since the time
of the Holy Alliance. Accustomed to clothe their actions in the
garb of humanitarianism, they were not, when caught thus
red-handed, prepared to be a mark of scorn for the rest of the
world. The cult of unabashed might was still a closet philosophy
which even Germany, its chief devotee, was not yet ready to avow
to the world. Of course Hay knew that the battle was not won, for
the bandits still held the booty. He was too wise to attempt to
wrench it from them, for that indeed would have meant battle for
which the United States was not prepared in military strength or
popular intention. He had merely pledged these countries to use
their acquisitions for the general good. Though the promises
meant little in themselves, to have exacted them was an initial
step toward victory.
In the meantime the penetration of foreign influences into China
was producing a reaction. A wave of protest against the "foreign
devils" swept through the population and acquired intensity from
the acts of fanatic religious leaders. That strange character,
the Dowager Empress, yielded to the "Boxers," who obtained
possession of Pekin, cut off the foreigners from the outside
world, and besieged them in the legations. That some such
movement was inevitable must have been apparent to many European
statesmen, and that it would give them occasion, by interference
and punishment, to solidify their "spheres of influence" must
have occurred to them. The "open door" was in as immediate peril
as were the diplomats in Pekin.
Secretary Hay did not, however, yield to these altered
circumstances. Instead, he built upon the leadership which he had
assumed. He promptly accepted the international responsibility
which the emergency called for. The United States at once agreed
to take its share, in cooperation with the Great Powers, in
whatever measures should be judged necessary. The first obvious
measure was to relieve the foreign ministers who were besieged in
Pekin. American assistance was active and immediate. By the
efforts of the American Government, communication with the
legations was opened; the American naval forces were soon at
Tientsin, the port of Pekin; and five or six thousand troops were
hastily sent from the Philippines. The United States therefore
bore its full proportion of the task. The largest contingent of
the land forces was, indeed, from Germany, and the command of the
whole undertaking was by agreement given to the German commander,
Graf von Waldersee. Owing, however, to his remoteness from the
scene of action, he did not arrive until after Pekin had been
reached and the relief of the legations, which was the first if
not the main object of the expedition, had been accomplished.
After this, the resistance of the Chinese greatly decreased and
the country was practically at the mercy of the concert of
powers.
By thus bearing its share in the responsibilities of the
situation, the United States had won a vote in determining the
result. Secretary Hay, however, had not waited for the military
outcome, and he aimed not at a vote in the concert of powers but
at its leadership. While the international expedition was
gathering its forces, he announced in a circular note that "the
policy of the Government of the United States is to seek a
solution which may bring about permanent safety and peace to
China, preserve Chinese territorial and administrative entity,
protect all rights guaranteed to friendly powers by treaty and
international law, and safeguard for the world the principle of
equal and impartial trade with all parts of the Chinese Empire."
To this position he requested the powers to assent.
Again Hay had hit upon a formula which no self-respecting power
could deny. Receiving from practically all a statement of their
purpose to preserve the "integrity" of China and the "Open Door"
just when they were launching the greatest military movement ever
undertaken in the Far East by the western world, he made it
impossible to turn punishment into destruction and partition. The
legations were saved and so was China. After complicated
negotiations an agreement was reached which exacted heavy
pecuniary penalties, and in the case of Germany, whose minister
had been assassinated, a conspicuous and what was intended to be
an enduring record of the crime and its punishment. China,
however, remained a nation--with its door open.
Once more in 1904 the fate of China, and in fact that of the
whole Far East, was thrown into the ring. Japan and Russia
entered into a war which had practically no cause except the
collision of their advancing interests in Chinese territory.
Every land battle of the war, except those of the Saghalien
campaign, was fought in China, Chinese ports were blockaded,
Chinese waters were filled with enemy mines and torpedoes, and
the prize was Chinese territory or territory recently taken from
her. To deny these facts was impossible; to admit them seemed to
involve the disintegration of the empire. Here again Secretary
Hay, devising a middle course, gained by his promptness of action
the prestige of having been the first to speak. On February 8,
1904, he asked Germany, Great Britain, and France to join with
the United States in requesting Japan and Russia to recognize the
neutrality of China, and to localize hostilities within fixed
limits. On January 10, 1905, remembering how the victory of Japan
in 1894 had brought compensatory grants to all the powers, he
sent out a circular note expressing the hope on the part of the
American Government that the war would not result in any
"concession of Chinese territory to neutral powers." Accustomed
now to these invitations which decency forbade them to refuse,
all the powers assented to this suggestion. The results of the
war, therefore, were confined to Manchuria, and Japan promised
that her occupation of that province should be temporary and that
commercial opportunity therein should be the same for all. The
culmination of American prestige came with President Roosevelt's
offer of the good offices of the United States, on June 8, 1905.
As a result, peace negotiations were concluded in the Treaty of
Portsmouth (New Hampshire) in 1905. For this conspicuous service
to the cause of peace President Roosevelt was awarded the Nobel
prize.
Secretary Hay had therefore, in the seven years following the
real arrival of the United States in the Far East, evolved a
policy which was clear and definite, and one which appealed to
the American people. While it constituted a variation from the
precise methods laid down by President Monroe in 1823, in that it
involved concerted and equal cooperation with the great powers of
the world, Hay's policy rested upon the same fundamental bases: a
belief in the fundamental right of nations to determine their own
government, and the reduction to a minimum of intervention by
foreign powers. To have refused to recognize intervention at all
would have been, under the circumstances, to abandon China to her
fate. In protecting its own right to trade with her, the United
States protected the integrity of China. Hay had, moreover, so
ably conducted the actual negotiations that the United States
enjoyed for the moment the leadership in the concert of powers
and exercised an authority more in accord with her potential than
with her actual strength. Secretary Hay's death in 1905 brought
American leadership to an end, for, though his policies continued
to be avowed by all concerned, their application was thereafter
restricted. The integrity of Chinese territory was threatened,
though not actually violated, by the action of Great Britain in
Tibet and of Japan in Manchuria. Japan, recognized as a major
power since her war with Russia, seemed in the opinion of many to
leave but a crack of the door open in Manchuria, and her
relationship with the United States grew difficult as she
resented more and more certain discriminations against her
citizens which she professed to find in the laws of some of the
American States, particularly in those of California.
In 1908 Elihu Root, who succeeded Hay as Secretary of State,
effected an understanding with Japan. Adopting a method which has
become rather habitual in the relationship between the United
States and Japan, Root and the Japanese ambassador exchanged
notes. In these they both pointed out that their object was the
peaceful development of their commerce in the Pacific; that "the
policy of both governments, uninfluenced by any aggressive
tendencies, is directed to the maintenance of the existing status
quo in the region above mentioned, and to the defense of the
principle of equal opportunity for commerce and industry in
China"; that they both stood for the independence and integrity
of China; and that, should any event threaten the stability of
existing conditions, "it remained for the two governments to
communicate with each other in order to arrive at an
understanding as to what measures they may consider it useful to
take."
The immigration problem between Japan and the United States was
even more serious than that of the open door and the integrity of
China. The teeming population of Japan was swarming beyond her
island empire, and Korea and Manchuria did not seem to offer
sufficient opportunity. The number of Japanese immigrants to this
country, which before the Spanish War had never reached 2000 in
any one year, now rose rapidly until in 1907 it reached 30,226.
American sentiment, which had been favorable to Japan during her
war with Russia, began to change. The public and particularly the
laboring classes in the West, where most of the Japanese
remained, objected to this increasing immigration, while a number
of leaders of American opinion devoted themselves to converting
the public to a belief that the military ambitions of Japan
included the Philippines and possibly Hawaii, where the Japanese
were a formidable element in the population. As a consequence
there arose a strong demand that the principles of the Chinese
Exclusion Act be applied to the Japanese. The situation was made
more definite by the fact that the board of education in San
Francisco ruled in 1906 that orientals should receive instruction
in special schools. The Japanese promptly protested, and their
demand for their rights under the treaty of 1894 was supported by
the Tokio Government. The international consequences of thus
discriminating against the natives of so rising and
self-confident a country as Japan, and one conscious of its
military strength, were bound to be very different from the
difficulties encountered in the case of China. The United States
confronted a serious situation, but fortunately did not confront
it alone. Australia and British Columbia, similarly threatened by
Japanese immigration, were equally opposed to it.
Out of deference to Great Britain, with which she had been allied
since 1902, Japan consented that her immigrants should not force
their way into unwilling communities. This position facilitated
an arrangement between the United States and Japan, and an
informal agreement was made in 1907. The schools of San Francisco
were to be open to oriental children not over sixteen years of
age, while Japan was to withhold passports from laborers who
planned to emigrate to the United States. This plan has worked
with reasonable success, but minor issues have kept alive in both
countries the bad feeling on the subject. Certain States,
particularly California, have passed laws, especially with
regard to the ownership and leasing of farm lands, apparently
intended to discriminate against Japanese who were already
residents. These laws Japan has held to be violations of her
treaty provision for consideration on the "most favored nation"
basis, and she has felt them to be opposed in spirit to the
"gentlemen's agreement" of 1907. The inability of the Federal
Government to control the policy of individual States is not
accepted by foreign countries as releasing the United States from
international obligations, so that, although friendly agreements
between the two countries were reached on the major points, cause
for popular irritation still remained.
Philander C. Knox, who succeeded Root as Secretary of State,
devoted his attention rather to the fostering of American
interests in China than to the development of the general
policies of his Department. While he refrained from asking for an
American sphere of influence, he insisted that American
capitalists obtain their fair share of the concessions for
railroad building, mining, and other enterprises which the
Chinese Government thought it necessary to give in order to
secure capital for her schemes of modernization. As these
concessions were supposed to carry political influence in the
areas to which they applied, there was active rivalry for them,
and Russia and Japan, which had no surplus capital, even borrowed
in order to secure a share. This situation led to a tangled web
of intrigue, perhaps inevitable but decidedly contrary to the
usual American diplomatic habits; and at this game the United
States did not prove particularly successful. In 1911 there broke
out in China a republican revolution which was speedily
successful. The new Government, as yet unrecognized, needed
money, and the United States secured a share in a six-power
syndicate which was organized to float a national loan. The
conditions upon which this syndicate insisted, however, were as
much political as they were pecuniary, and the new Government
refused to accept them.
On the accession of President Wilson, the United States promptly
led the way in recognizing the new republic in China. On March
18, 1913, the President announced: "The conditions of the loan
seem to us to touch nearly the administrative independence of
China itself; and this administration does not feel that it
ought, even by implication, to be a party to those conditions."
The former American policy of non-interference was therefore
renewed, but it still remained uncertain whether the entrance of
the United States into Far Eastern politics would do more than
serve to delay the European dominance which seemed to be
impending in 1898.
CHAPTER XV. The Panama Canal
While American troops were threading the mountain passes and the
morasses of the Philippines, scaling the walls of Pekin, and
sunning themselves in the delectable pleasances of the Forbidden
City, and while American Secretaries of State were penning
dispatches which determined the fate of countries on the opposite
side of the globe, the old diplomatic problems nearer home still
persisted. The Spanish War, however, had so thoroughly changed
the relationship of the United States to the rest of the world
that the conditions under which even these old problems were to
be adjusted or solved gave them entirely new aspects. The
American people gradually but effectually began to take foreign
affairs more seriously. As time went on, the Government made
improvements in the consular and diplomatic services. Politicians
found that their irresponsible threatenings of other countries
had ceased to be politically profitable when public opinion
realized what was at stake. Other countries, moreover, began to
take the United States more seriously. The open hostility which
they had shown on the first entrance of this nation into world
politics changed, on second thought, to a desire on their part to
placate and perhaps to win the support of this new and formidable
power.
The attitude of Germany in particular was conspicuous. The Kaiser
sent his brother, Prince Henry, to visit the United States. He
presented the nation with a statue of Frederick the Great and
Harvard with a Germanic museum; he ordered a Herreshoff yacht,
and asked the President's daughter, Alice Roosevelt, to christen
it; he established exchange professorships in the universities;
and he began a campaign aimed apparently at securing for Germany
the support of the entire American people, or, failing that, at
organizing for German purposes the German-born element within the
United States. France sought to revive the memory of her
friendship for the United States during the Revolution by
presenting the nation with a statue of Rochambeau, and she also
established exchange professorships. In England, Cecil Rhodes,
with his great dream of drawing together all portions of the
British race, devoted his fortune to making Oxford the mold where
all its leaders of thought and action should be shaped; and
Joseph Chamberlain and other English leaders talked freely and
enthusiastically of an alliance between Great Britain and the
United States as the surest foundation for world peace.
It need not be supposed, however, that these international
amenities meant that the United States was to be allowed to have
its own way in the world. The friendliness of Great Britain was
indeed sincere. Engaged between 1899 and 1901 in the Boer War,
she appreciated ever more strongly the need for the friendship of
the United States, and she looked with cordial approbation upon
the development of Secretary Hay's policy in China. The British,
however, like the Americans, are legalistically inclined, and
disputes between the two nations are likely to be maintained to
the limit of the law. The advantage of this legal mindedness is
that there has always been a disposition in both peoples to
submit to judicial award when ordinary negotiations have reached
a deadlock. But the real affection for each other which underlay
the eternal bickerings of the two nations had as yet not revealed
itself to the American consciousness. As most of the disputes of
the United States had been with Great Britain, Americans were
always on the alert to maintain all their claims and were
suspicious of "British gold."
It was, therefore, in an atmosphere by no means conducive to
yielding on the part of the United States, though it was one not
antagonistic to good feeling, that the representatives of the two
countries met. John Hay and Sir Julian Pauncefote, whose long
quiet service in this country had made him the first popular
British ambassador, now set about clearing up the problems
confronting the two peoples. The first question which pressed for
settlement was one of boundary. It had already taken ninety years
to draw the line from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and now the
purchase of Alaska by the United States had added new
uncertainties to the international boundary. The claims of both
nations were based on a treaty of 1825 between Great Britain and
Russia. Like most attempts to define boundaries running through
unexplored territories, the treaty terms admitted of two
interpretations. The boundary line from Portland Channel to Mount
St. Elias was stipulated to run everywhere a distance of ten
marine leagues from the coast and to follow its sinuosities. This
particular coast, however, is bitten into by long fiords
stretching far into the country. Great Britain held that these
were not part of the sea in the sense of the treaty and that the
line should cut across them ten marine leagues from the outer
coast line. On the other hand, the United States held that the
line should be drawn ten marine leagues from the heads of these
inlets.
The discovery of gold on the Yukon in 1897 made this boundary
question of practical moment. Action now became an immediate
necessity. In 1899 the two countries agreed upon a modus Vivendi
and in 1903 arranged an arbitration. The arbitrating board
consisted of three members from each of the two nations. The
United States appointed Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, ex-Senator
George Turner, and Elihu Root, then Secretary of War. Great
Britain appointed two Canadians, Louis A. Jette and A. B.
Aylesworth, and Lord Alverstone, Chief Justice of England. Their
decision was in accordance with the principle for which the
United States had contended, though not following the actual line
which it had sketched. It gave the Americans, however, full
control of the coast and its harbors, and the settlement provided
a mutually accepted boundary on every frontier.
With the discovery of gold in the far North, Alaska began a
period of development which is rapidly making that territory an
important economic factor in American life. Today the time when
this vast northern coast was valuable only as the breeding ground
for the fur seal seems long past. Nevertheless the fur seal
continued to be sought, and for years the international
difficulty of protecting the fisheries remained. Finally, in
1911, the United States entered into a joint agreement with Great
Britain, Japan, and Russia, which is actually serving as a sort
of international game law. The problems of Alaska that remain are
therefore those of internal development.
Diplomacy, however, is not concerned solely with sensational
episodes. American ministers and the State Department are engaged
for the most part in the humdrum adjustment of minor differences
which never find their way into the newspapers. Probably more
such cases arise with Great Britain, in behalf of Canada, than
with any other section of the globe. On the American continent
rivers flow from one country into the other; railroads carry
goods across the border and back again; citizens labor now in one
country, now in the other; corporations do business in both. All
these ties not only bind but chafe and give rise to constant
negotiation. More and more Great Britain has left the handling of
such matters to the Canadian authorities, and, while there can be
no interchange of ministers, there is an enormous transaction of
business between Ottawa and Washington.
While there has of late years been little talk of annexation,
there have been many in both countries who have desired to reduce
the significance of the boundary to a minimum. This feeling led
in 1911 to the formulation of a reciprocity agreement, which
Canada, however, was unwilling to accept. Yet, if tariff
restrictions were not removed, other international barriers were
as far as possible done away with. In 1898 a commission was
appointed to agree upon all points of difference. Working slowly
but steadily, the commissioners settled one question after
another, until practically all problems were put upon a permanent
working basis. Perhaps the most interesting of the results of
this activity was the appointment in 1908 of a permanent
International Fisheries Commission, which still regulates that
vexing question.
Another source of international complication arose out of the
Atlantic fisheries off Newfoundland, which is not part of Canada.
It is off these shores that the most important deep-sea fishing
takes place. This fishery was one of the earliest American
sources of wealth, and for nearly two centuries formed a sort of
keystone of the whole commercial life of the United States. When
in 1783 Great Britain recognized American independence, she
recognized also that American fishermen had certain rights off
these coasts. These rights, however, were not sufficient for the
conduct of the fisheries, and so in addition certain "liberties"
were granted, which allowed American fishers to land for the
purpose of drying fish and of doing other things not generally
permitted to foreigners. These concessions in fact amounted to a
joint participation with the British. The rights were permanent,
but the privileges were regarded as having lapsed after the War
of 1812. In 1818 they were partially renewed, certain limited
privileges being conceded. Ever since that date the problem of
securing the additional privileges desired has been a subject for
discussion between Great Britain and the United States. Between
1854 and 1866 the American Government secured them by
reciprocity; between 1872 and 1884 it bought them; after 1888 it
enjoyed them by a temporary modus vivendi arranged under
President Cleveland.
In 1902 Hay arranged with Sir Robert Bond, Prime Minister of
Newfoundland, a new reciprocity agreement. This, however, the
Senate rejected, and the Cleveland agreement continued.
Newfoundland, angry at the rejection of the proposed treaty, put
every obstacle possible in the way of American fishermen and used
methods which the Americans claimed to be contrary to the treaty
terms. After long continued and rather acrimonious discussions,
the matter was finally referred in 1909 to the Hague Court. As in
the Bering Sea case, the court was asked not only to judge the
facts but also to draw up an agreement for the future. Its
decision, on the whole, favored Newfoundland, but this fact is of
little moment compared with the likelihood that a dispute almost
a century and a half old has at last been permanently settled.
None of these international disputes and settlements to the
north, however, excited anything like the popular interest
aroused by one which occurred in the south. The Spanish War made
it abundantly evident that an isthmian canal between the Atlantic
and the Pacific must be built. The arguments of naval strategy
which Captain Mahan had long been urging had received striking
demonstration in the long and roundabout voyage which the Oregon
was obliged to take. The pressure of railroad rates on the trade
of the country caused wide commercial support for a project
expected to establish a water competition that would pull them
down. The American people determined to dig a canal.
The first obstacle to such a project lay in the Clayton-Bulwer
Treaty with Great Britain. That obstacle Blaine had attempted in
vain to remove; in fact his bungling diplomacy had riveted it yet
more closely by making Great Britain maintain it as a point of
honor. To this subject Hay now devoted himself, and as he
encountered no serious difficulties, a treaty was drawn up in
1900 practically as he wished it. It was not, however, popular in
the United States. Hay preferred and arranged for a canal
neutralized by international guarantee, on the same basis as the
Suez Canal; but American public sentiment had come to insist on a
canal controlled absolutely by the United States. The treaty was
therefore rejected by the Senate, or rather was so amended as to
prove unacceptable to Great Britain.
Hay believed that he had obtained what was most desirable as well
as all that was possible, that the majority of the American
people approved, and that he was beaten only because a treaty
must be approved by two-thirds of the Senate. He therefore
resigned. President McKinley, however, refused to accept his
resignation, and he and Lord Pauncefote were soon at work again
on the subject. In 1901 a new treaty was presented to the Senate.
This began by abrogating the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty entirely and
with it brushing away all restrictions upon the activity of the
United States in Central America. It specifically permitted the
United States to "maintain such military police along the canal
as may be necessary to protect it against lawlessness and
disorder." By interpreting this clause as allowing complete
fortification, the United States has made itself the guardian of
the canal. In return for the release from former obligations
which Great Britain thus allowed, the United States agreed that
any canal constructed should be regulated by certain rules which
were stated in the treaty and which made it "free and open to the
vessels of commerce and of war of all nations observing these
Rules, on terms of entire equality," in time of war as well as of
peace. This time the treaty proved satisfactory and was accepted
by the Senate. Thus one more source of trouble was done away
with, and the first obstacle in the way of the canal was removed.
The Clayton-Bulwer Treaty was, however, only a bit of the tangled
jungle which must be cleared before the first American shovel
could begin its work. For over twenty years a contest had been
waged between experts in the United States as to the relative
merits of the Panama and the Nicaragua routes. The latter was the
more popular, perhaps because it seemed at one time that Panama
was preempted by De Lesseps' French company. This contest as to
the better route led to the passage of a law, in 1902, which
authorized the President to acquire the rights and property
needed to construct a canal by the Panama route, on condition
that he could make satisfactory arrangements "within a reasonable
time and upon reasonable terms." Otherwise, Nicaragua was to be
chosen. Theodore Roosevelt was now President and, though at one
time not favoring Panama, he decided that there the canal should
be constructed and with his accustomed vigor set himself to the
task.
The first difficulty presented by this route was the prior right
which the French company still retained, although it had little,
if any, hope of carrying on the construction itself. It possessed
not only rights but also much equipment on the spot, and it had
actually begun excavation at certain points. The purchase of all
its properties complete for $40,000,000 was, therefore, not a bad
investment on the part of the Government. By this purchase the
United States was brought directly into relation with Colombia,
through one of whose federal states, Panama, the canal was to be
cut.
While the French purchase had removed one obstacle, the De
Lesseps charter alone would not suffice for the construction of
the canal, for the American Government had definite ideas as to
the conditions necessary for the success of the work. The
Government required a zone which should be under its complete
control, for not otherwise could satisfactory sanitary
regulations be enforced. It insisted also on receiving the right
to fortify the canal. It must have these and other privileges on
a long time grant. For them, it was willing to pay generously.
Negotiations would be affected, one could not say how, by the
Treaty of 1846 with Colombia,* by which the United States had
received the right of free use of the isthmus, with the right of
maintaining the neutrality of the district and in return had
guaranteed to Colombia sovereignty over the isthmus.
* Then known as the Republic of New Granada.
Hay took up the negotiations with the Colombian charge
d'affaires, Dr. Herran, and arranged a treaty, which gave the
United States a strip of land six miles wide across the isthmus,
on a ninety-nine year lease, for which it should pay ten million
dollars and, after a period of nine years for construction, a
quarter of a million a year. This treaty, after months of debate
in press and Congress, was rejected by the Colombian Senate on
August 12, 1903, though the people of Panama, nervously anxious
lest this opportunity to sit on the bank of the world's great
highway should slip into the hands of their rivals of Nicaragua,
had urged earnestly the acceptance of the terms. The majority of
the Colombians probably expected to grant the American requests
in time but were determined to force the last penny from the
United States. As Hay wrote: "The Isthmus is looked upon as a
financial cow to be milked for the benefit of the country at
large. This difficulty might be overcome by diplomacy and money."
President Roosevelt at this point took the negotiations into his
own hands. Knowing that the price offered was more than just, he
decided to depend no longer on bartering. He ordered the American
minister to leave Colombia, and he prepared a message to Congress
proposing that the Americans proceed to dig the canal under
authority which he claimed to find in the Treaty of 1846. It was,
however, doubtful if Congress would find it there, particularly
as so many Congressmen preferred the Nicaragua route. The
President therefore listened with pleased attention to the rumors
of a revolution planned to separate Panama from Colombia. Most
picturesquely this information was brought by M. Philippe
Bunau-Varilla, a former engineer of the De Lesseps company, who
glowed with the excitement of coming events. Roosevelt, however,
relied more upon the information furnished by two American
officers, who reported "that various revolutionary movements were
being inaugurated."
On October 10, 1903, the President wrote to Dr. Albert Shaw, of
the "Review of Reviews":
"I enclose you, purely for your own information, a copy of a
letter of September 5th, from our minister to Colombia. I think
it might interest you to see that there was absolutely not the
slightest chance of securing by treaty any more than we
endeavored to secure. The alternatives were to go to Nicaragua
against the advice of the great majority of competent engineers--
some of the most competent saying that we had better have no
canal at this time than go there--or else to take the territory
by force without any attempt at getting a treaty. I cast aside
the proposition made at the time to foment the secession of
Panama. Whatever other governments can do, the United States
cannot go into the securing, by such underhand means, the
cession. Privately, I freely say to you that I should be
delighted if Panama were an independent state; or if it made
itself so at this moment; but for me to say so publicly would
amount to an instigation of a revolt, and therefore I cannot say
it."
Nothing, however, prevented the President from keeping an
attentive eye on the situation. On the 16th of October he
directed the Navy Department to send ships to the Isthmus to
protect American interests in case of a revolutionary outbreak.
On the 2d of November, he ordered the squadron to "maintain free
and uninterrupted transit.... Prevent the landing of any
armed force with hostile intent, either government or insurgent,
at any point within fifty miles of Panama." At 3:40 P.M., on the
3d of November, the acting Secretary of State telegraphed to the
Isthmus for confirmation of a report to the effect that an
uprising was in progress. A reply dated 8:15 P.M. stated that
there had been none as yet, but that it was rumored one would
take place during the night. On the 4th of November independence
was proclaimed. The only fatality was a Chinaman killed in the
City of Panama by a shell from the Colombian gunboat Bogota. Its
commander was warned not to fire again. On the 6th of November,
Secretary Hay instructed our consul to recognize the new
republic, and on the 13th of November, President Roosevelt
received Bunau-Varilla as its representative at Washington.
This prompt recognition of a new state, without waiting to allow
the parent Government time to assert itself, was contrary to
American practice. The United States had regarded as a most
unfriendly act Great Britain's mere recognition of the
belligerency of the Southern Confederacy. The right of the United
States to preserve the neutrality of the isthmus, as provided by
the Treaty of 1846, certainly did not involve the right to
intervene between the Government and revolutionists. On the
other hand, the guarantee of possession which the United States
had given to Colombia did involve supporting her Government to a
reasonable extent; yet there could be little doubt that it was
the presence of American ships which had made the revolution
successful.
The possible implications of these glaring facts were cleverly
met by President Roosevelt in his message to Congress and by the
Secretary of State in the correspondence growing out of the
affair. The Government really relied for its justification,
however, not upon these technical pleas but upon the broad
grounds of equity. America has learned in the last few years how
important it is for its safety that "scraps of paper" be held
sacred and how dangerous is the doctrine of necessity.
Nevertheless it is well to observe that if the United States did,
in the case of Panama, depart somewhat from that strict
observance of obligations which it has been accustomed to
maintain, it did not seek any object which was not just as useful
to the world at large as to itself, that the situation had been
created not by a conflict of opposing interests but by what the
Government had good reason to believe was the bad faith of
Colombia, and that the separation of Panama was the act of its
own people, justly incensed at the disregard of their interests
by their compatriots. This revolution created no tyrannized
subject population but rather liberated from a galling bond a
people who had, in fact, long desired separation.
With the new republic negotiation went on pleasantly and rapidly,
and as early as November 18, 1903, a convention was drawn up, in
which the United States guaranteed the independence of Panama and
in return received in perpetuity a grant of a zone ten miles wide
within which to construct a canal from ocean to ocean.
CHAPTER XVI. Problems Of The Caribbean
As the acquisition of the Philippines made all Far Eastern
questions of importance to the United States, so the investment
of American millions in a canal across the Isthmus of Panama
increased popular interest in the problems of the Caribbean. That
fascinating sheet of water, about six hundred miles from north to
south by about fifteen hundred from east to west, is ringed
around by the possessions of many powers. In 1898 its mainland
shores were occupied by Mexico, British Honduras, Guatemala,
Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Colombia, and Venezuela; its
islands were possessed by the negro states of Hayti and the
Dominican Republic, and by Spain, France, Great Britain, Holland,
and Denmark. In the Caribbean had been fought some of the
greatest and most significant naval battles of the eighteenth
century and, when the canal was opened, across its waters would
plough a great share of the commerce of the world. As owner of
the canal and professed guardian of its use, the United States
was bound to consider its own strategic relation to this sea into
which the canal opened.
Gradually the situation which existed in 1898 has changed. Spain
has been removed from the Caribbean. Of her former possessions
the United States holds Porto Rico; Cuba is independent, but is
in a way under the protection of the United States, which
possesses on her coast the naval station of Guantanamo. The
American treaty with the new republic of Panama practically
created another American protectorate, and the fortification of
the canal gave the United States another strategic position. The
negotiation for the purchase of the Danish islands has been
completed successfully. But these obvious footholds are of less
importance than the more indirect relationships which the United
States has been steadily establishing, through successive
Administrations, with the various other powers located on the
borders of the Caribbean.
The Spanish War did not lull the suspicions of the United States
regarding the dangerous influence which would be exerted should
the ambitions of European powers be allowed a field of action in
the American continents, and the United States remained as intent
as ever on preventing any opportunity for their gaining
admittance. One such contingency, though perhaps a remote one,
was the possibility of a rival canal, for there are other
isthmuses than that of Panama which might be pierced with the aid
of modern resources of capital and genius. To prevent any such
action was not selfish on the part of the United States, for the
American canal was to have an open door, and there was no
economic justification for another seaway from the Atlantic to
the Pacific.
There might, however, be some temptation in the political and
military influence which such a prospective second canal could
exert. Negotiations were begun, therefore, with all the
transcontinental powers of Central America, offering liberal
compensation for the control of all possible canal routes. These
negotiations have been long drawn out and are only lately coming
to fruition. They have served, however, to taboo all projects by
other nations, and one of these treaties negotiated with
Colombia, but not yet ratified, holds out the prospect of winning
back her friendship which was so seriously alienated by the
recognition of the republic of Panama by the United States.
In one respect the changing world has rendered quite obsolete the
pronouncements of President Monroe. In the case of Japan there
has grown up a great power which is neither European nor
American. American policy in the Far East has made it abundantly
evident that the United States does not regard the self-imposed
limitations upon its activity as extending to Asia. In her case
there is lacking the quid pro quo by which the United States has
justified its demand that European powers refrain from
interfering in America. By no means, however, has the Government
admitted the right of Asia to impinge on the American continents.
In 1912 Washington heard that Japan was negotiating with Mexico
for a concession on Magdalena Bay. Senator Lodge promptly
introduced a resolution in the Senate, declaring that "when any
harbor or other place in the American continents is so situated
that the occupation thereof for naval or military purposes might
threaten the communication or the safety of the United States,
the Government of the United States could not see, without grave
concern, the possession of such harbor or other place by any
corporation or association which has such relation to another
government, not American, as to give that government practical
power of control for naval or military purposes--" This
resolution, which passed the Senate by a vote of 51 to 4,
undoubtedly represented American sentiment, at least with regard
to the foreign occupation of any territory bordering on the
Caribbean or on the Pacific between Panama and California.
A more subtle danger lay in the financial claims of European
powers against the various states in Central America, and the
possibility of these claims being used as levers to establish
permanent control. Most of these foreign demands had a basis in
justice but had been exaggerated in amount. They were of two
kinds: first, for damage to persons or property resulting from
the numerous revolutions and perpetual brigandage which have
scourged these semitropic territories; second, for debts
contracted in the name of the several countries for the most part
to conduct revolutions or to gild the after-career of defeated
rulers in Paris,--debts with a face value far in excess of the
amount received by the debtor and with accumulated interest in
many cases far beyond the capacity of the several countries to
pay. The disputes as to the validity of such claims have been
without end, and they have furnished a constant temptation to the
cupidity of individuals and the ambition of the powers.
In 1902 Germany induced Great Britain and Italy to join her in an
attempt to collect the amount of some of these claims from
Venezuela. A joint squadron undertook a "pacific blockade" of the
coast. Secretary Hay denied that a "pacific blockade" existed in
international law and urged that the matter be submitted to
arbitration. Great Britain and Italy were willing to come to an
understanding and withdrew; but Germany, probably intent on
ulterior objects, was unwilling and preferred to take temporary
possession of certain ports. President Roosevelt then summoned
the German Ambassador, Dr. Holleben, and told him that, unless
Germany consented to arbitrate, Admiral Dewey would be ordered at
noon ten days later to proceed to Venezuela and protect its
coast. A week passed with no message. Holleben called on the
President but rose to go without mentioning Venezuela. President
Roosevelt thereupon informed the Ambassador that he had changed
his mind and had decided to send Admiral Dewey one day earlier
than originally planned; he further explained that in the event
the Kaiser should decide to arbitrate, as not a word had been put
on paper, there would be nothing to indicate coercion. Within
thirty-six hours Holleben reported that Germany would arbitrate.
Only once before, when Seward was dealing with Napoleon III
concerning Mexico, had forcible persuasion been used to maintain
the Monroe Doctrine.
It was perfectly clear that if the United States sat idly by and
allowed European powers to do what they would to collect their
Latin American debts, the Monroe Doctrine would soon become a
dead letter. It was not, however, so plain how American
interference could be justified. The problem was obviously a
difficult one and did not concern the United States alone. Latin
America was even more vitally concerned with it, and her
statesmen, always lucid exponents of international law, were
active in devising remedies. Carlos Calvo of Argentina advanced
the doctrine that "the collection of pecuniary claims made by the
citizens of one country against the government of another country
should never be made by force." Senior Drago, Minister of Foreign
Affairs in the same country in 1902, urged upon the United States
a modification of the same view by asserting that "the public
debt cannot occasion armed intervention."
President Roosevelt handled the matter in his messages of 1903
and 1904. "That our rights and interests are deeply concerned in
the maintenance of the [Monroe] Doctrine is so clear as hardly to
need argument. This is especially true in view of the
construction of the Panama Canal. As a mere matter of self
defense we must exercise a close watch over the approaches to
this canal, and this means we must be thoroughly alive to our
interests in the Caribbean Sea." "When we announce a policy...
we thereby commit ourselves to the consequences of the policy."
"Chronic wrongdoing or an impotence which results in a general
loosening of the ties of civilized society, may in America, as
elsewhere, ultimately require intervention by some civilized
nation, and in the Western Hemisphere the adherence of the United
States to the Monroe Doctrine may force the United States,
however reluctantly, in flagrant cases of such wrongdoing or
impotence, to the exercise of an international police power."
To prevent European intervention for the purpose of securing just
claims in America, then, the United States would undertake to
handle the case, and would wield the "Big Stick" against any
American state which should refuse to meet its obligations. This
was a repetition, in a different tone, of Blaine's "Elder Sister"
program. As developed, it had elements also of Cleveland's
Venezuela policy. In 1907 the United States submitted to the
Hague Conference a modified form of the Drago doctrine, which
stated that the use of force to collect contract debts claimed
from one government by another as being due to its citizens
should be regarded as illegal, unless the creditor nation first
offered to submit its claims to arbitration and this offer were
refused by the nation against which the claim was directed. The
interference of the United States, therefore, would be
practically to hale the debtor into court.
Around the Caribbean, however, were several nations not only
unwilling but unable to pay their debts. This inability was not
due to the fact that national resources were lacking, but that
constant revolution scared away conservative capital from seeking
constructive investment or from developing their natural riches,
while speculators loaned money at ruinous rates of discount to
tottering presidents, gambling on the possibility of some turn in
fortune that would return them tenfold. The worst example of an
insolvent and recalcitrant state was the Dominican Republic,
whose superb harbors were a constant temptation to ambitious
powers willing to assume its debts in return for naval stations,
and whose unscrupulous rulers could nearly always be bribed to
sell their country as readily as anything else. In the case of
this country President Roosevelt made a still further extension
of the Monroe Doctrine when, in 1905, he concluded a treaty
whereby the United States agreed to undertake the adjustment of
the republic's obligations and the administration of its custom
houses, and at the same time guarantee the territorial integrity
of the republic. This arrangement was hotly attacked in the
United States as an indication of growing imperialism, and,
though it was defended as necessary to prevent the entrance of
new foreign influences into the Caribbean, the opposition was so
strong that the treaty was not accepted by the Senate until 1907,
and then only in a modified form with the omission of the
territorial guarantee.
For the United States thus to step into a foreign country as an
administrator was indeed a startling innovation. On the other
hand, the development of such a policy was a logical sequence of
the Monroe Doctrine. That it was a step in the general
development of policy on the part of the United States and not a
random leap is indicated by the manner in which it has been
followed up. In 1911 treaties with Nicaragua and Honduras
somewhat similar to the Dominican protocol were negotiated by
Secretary Knox but failed of ratification. Subsequently under
President Wilson's Administration, the treaty with Nicaragua was
redrafted and was ratified by both parties. Hayti, too, was in
financial difficulties and, at about the time of the outbreak of
the Great War, it was reported that Germany was about to relieve
her needs at the price of harbors and of control. In 1915,
however, the United States took the island under its protection
by a treaty which not only gave the Government complete control
of the fiscal administration but bound it to "lend an efficient
aid for the preservation of Haitian independence and the
maintenance of a government adequate for the protection of life,
property, and individual liberty."
Since 1898, then, the map of the Caribbean has completely changed
its aspect. The sea is not an American lake, nor do the Americans
wish it to be such. In time, as the surrounding countries become
better able to stand alone, direct interference on the part of
the United States will doubtless become less than it is today.
There is, however, practically no present opportunity for a
non-American power to establish itself and to threaten the
commerce or the canal of the United States.
Few people in the United States and perhaps fewer in the
countries involved realize from what American influence has saved
these small states. A glance at Africa and Asia will suggest what
would otherwise have been the case. Without the United States and
its leadership, there can be little doubt that giant
semi-sovereign corporations owing allegiance to some great power
would now possess these countries. They would bristle with forts
and police, and their populations would be in a state of absolute
political and of quasi-economic servitude. They might today be
more orderly and perhaps wealthier, but unless the fundamental
American belief in democracy and self-government is wrong they
would be infinitely farther from their true goal, which involves
the working out of their own civilization.
The Caribbean is but a portion of the whole international problem
of the Americas, and the methods used by the United States in
solving its problems seemed likely to postpone that sympathetic
union of the whole to which it has been looking forward for a
century. Yet this country has not been unappreciative of the
larger aspects of Pan-Americanism. In 1899 President McKinley
revived Blaine's project and proposed a Pan-American congress. To
popularize this idea, a Pan-American Exposition was arranged at
Buffalo in 1901. Here, just after he had expounded his views of
the ties that might bind the continents together, McKinley was
assassinated. The idea, however, lived and in the same year a
congress was held at the City of Mexico, where it was proposed
that such meetings be held regularly. As a result, congresses
were held at Rio de Janeiro in 1906 and at Buenos Aires in 1910,
at which various measures of common utility were discussed and a
number of projects were actually undertaken.
The movement of Pan-Americanism has missed achieving the full
hopes of its supporters owing not so much to a difference of
fundamental ideas and interests as to suspicion and national
pride. The chief powers of southern South America--Argentina,
Brazil, and Chili--had by the end of the nineteenth century in
large measure successfully worked out their own problems. They
resented the interference of a power of alien race such as the
United States, and they suspected its good intentions in wielding
the "Big Stick," especially after the cavalier treatment which
Colombia had received. They observed with alarm the strengthening
of the grip of the United States about the Caribbean. United in a
group, known from their initials as the "A.B.C." powers, they
sought to assume the leadership of Latin America, basing their
action, indeed, upon the fundamentals of the Monroe Doctrine--the
exclusion of foreign influence and the independence of peoples--
but with themselves instead of the United States as chief,
guardians.
Many of the publicists of these three powers, however, doubted
their capacity to walk entirely alone. On the one hand they noted
the growing influence of the Germans in Brazil and the
indications of Japanese interest in many places, and on the other
they divined the fundamental sincerity of the professions of the
United States and were anxious to cooperate with this nation. Not
strong enough to control the policy of the various countries,
these men at least countered those chauvinists who urged that
hostility to the United States was a first duty compared with
which the danger of non-American interference might be neglected.
Confronted by this divided attitude, the United States sought to
win over but not to compel. Nothing more completely met American
views than that each power should maintain for itself the
principles of the Monroe Doctrine by excluding foreign
influences. Beyond that the United States sought only friendship,
and, if it were agreeable, such unity as should be mutually
advantageous. In 1906 Elihu Root, the Secretary of State, made a
tour of South America with a view of expressing these sentiments;
and in 1913-1914 ex-President Roosevelt took occasion, on the way
to his Brazilian hunting trip, to assure the people of the great
South American powers that the "Big Stick" was not intended to
intimidate them. Pan-American unity was still, when President
Taft went out of office in 1913, an aspiration rather than a
realized fact, though the tangible evidences of unity had vastly
multiplied since 1898, and the recurring congresses provided a
basis of organization upon which some substantial structure might
be built.
The United States had sincerely hoped that Mexico, like the
"A.B.C." powers, was another Latin American power which had found
itself. Of all it was certainly the most friendly and the most
intimate. The closeness of its relations with the United States
is indicated by the fact that in the forty years between 1868 and
1908, forty agreements, treaties, and conventions had been
concluded between the two countries. Nor was intimacy confined to
the Governments. The peace arranged by President Diaz had brought
foreign capital by the billion to aid the internal development of
the country, and of this money more had come from the United
States than from any other nation. Nor was it financial aid alone
which had gone across the border. There was but little American
colonization, it is true, but business managers, engineers, mine
foremen, and ranch superintendents formed thousands of links
binding the nations together. The climax of intimacy seemed
reached when, in 1910, a general treaty of arbitration was made
after President Taft and President Diaz had met at El Paso on the
Mexican border in a personal conference. A personal interview
between the President of the United States and the chief of a
foreign state was almost unique in American history, owing to the
convention that the President should not depart from the national
territory.
It was, therefore, with a bitter sense of disappointment that
Americans heard of the revolution inaugurated in 1910 by
Francisco Madero. In common with France, Spain, Great Britain,
and Germany, the United States was disturbed for the safety of
the investments and persons of its citizens. The Government was
also concerned because the points of first and most persistent
fighting were where the various railroads crossed the American
boundary. This circumstance brought the whole border within the
range of disturbance. The Government was apprehensive, too, as to
the effect of long-continued war upon territories within the
circle of its chief interest, the Caribbean area. Yet, when the
first surprise caused by the revolution had passed and the reason
for the outbreak was perceived,--the fact that the order and
apparent prosperity of the Diaz regime had been founded upon the
oppression and exploitation of the masses,--public sympathy in
the United States went out to Madero and his supporters.
The Diaz Government collapsed with surprising suddenness. The
resignation of President Diaz in May, 1911, was accepted as a
proof of the popular character and the success of the revolution,
and Madero, who was elected president in October, was promptly
recognized as the constitutional head of the Mexican Government.
The revolution, however, aroused the United States to the fact
that there still persisted the era of disturbance which it had
hoped was drawing to a close in Latin America. With this
disturbing revelation in mind, Congress took another step in the
development of American policies consequent upon the Monroe
Doctrine by passing an act authorizing the President, whenever he
should "find that in any American country conditions of domestic
violence exist which are promoted by the use of arms and
munitions of war procured from the United States," to prohibit
trade in such articles. Under this authority, President Taft
promptly forbade the export of such articles to Mexico except to
the Government.
Real revolutions, however, seldom result simply in the transfer
of authority from one group to another. The breaking of the bonds
of recognized authority releases all sorts of desires,
represented in the state by separate groups, each of which sees
no reason for accepting the control of another. All seek to seize
the dropped reins. The inauguration of Madero, therefore, did not
result in a new and popular government but in continued
disturbance. Factions with differing creeds raised revolts in
various sections of the country until, in February, 1913, Madero
was overthrown by one of these groups, led by Felix Diaz and
General Victoriano Huerta, and representing a reactionary
tendency. Madero and his vice president Pino Suarez were killed,
it was believed by order of Huerta, and on the 27th of February,
in the City of Mexico, Huerta was proclaimed President. Don
Venustiano Carranza, Governor of the State of Coahuila,
straightway denied the constitutionality of the new Government
and led a new revolution under the banner of the Constitution.
It was in such a condition that President Wilson found the
affairs of the continent when he took office on March 4, 1913.
The American policy in the Caribbean was well defined and to a
large extent in operation. Pan-American sentiment was developing,
but its strength and direction were yet to be determined. Mexico
was in chaos, and upon the Government's handling of it would
depend the final success of the United States in the Caribbean
and the possibility of effecting a real and fruitful cooperation
of the Americas.
CHAPTER XVII. World Relationships
It became increasingly evident that the foreign policy of the
United States could not consist solely of a Caribbean policy, a
Pan-American policy, and a Far Eastern policy, but that it must
necessarily involve a world policy. During the years after the
Spanish War the world was actively discussing peace; but all the
while war was in the air. The peace devices of 1815, the Holy and
the Quadruple Alliances, had vanished. The world had ceased to
regard buffer states as preventives of wars between the great
nations, although at the time few believed that any nation would
ever dare to treat them as Germany since then has treated
Belgium. The balance of power still existed, but statesmen were
ever uncertain as to whether such a relation of states was really
conducive to peace or to war. A concert of the Great Powers
resembling the Quadruple Alliance sought to regulate such vexing
problems as were presented by the Balkans and China, but their
concord was not loud enough to drown the notes of discord.
The outspoken word of governments was still all for peace; their
proposals for preserving. it were of two kinds. First, there was
the time-honored argument that the best preservative of peace
was preparation for war. Foremost in the avowed policies of the
day, this was urged by some who really believed it, by some who
hoped for war and intended to be ready for it, and by the cynical
who did not wish for war but thought it inevitable. The other
proposal was that war could and should be prevented by agreements
to submit all differences between nations to international
tribunals for judgment. In the United States, which had always
rejected the idea of balance of power, and which only in Asia,
and to a limited degree, assented to the concert of powers, one
or the other of these two views was urged by all those who saw
that the United States had actually become a world power, that
isolation no longer existed, and that a policy of nonintervention
could not keep us permanently detached from the current of world
politics.
The foremost advocates of preparedness were Theodore Roosevelt
and Admiral Mahan. It was little enough that they were able to
accomplish, but it was more than most Americans realize. The
doubling of the regular army which the Spanish War had brought
about was maintained but was less important than its improvement
in organization. Elihu Root and William H. Taft, as Secretaries
of War, profiting by the lessons learned in Cuba, established a
general staff, provided for the advanced professional training of
officers, and became sufficiently acquainted with the personnel
to bring into positions of responsibility those who deserved to
hold them. The navy grew with less resistance on the part of the
public, which now was interested in observing the advance in the
rank of its fleet among the navies of the world. When in 1907
Roosevelt sent the American battleship squadron on a voyage
around the world, the expedition not only caused a pleased
self-consciousness at home but perhaps impressed foreign nations
with the fact that the United States now counted not only as a
potential but as an actual factor in world affairs.
Greater popular interest, if one may judge from relative
achievement, was aroused by the proposal to substitute legal for
military battles. The United States had always been disposed to
submit to arbitration questions which seemed deadlocked. The
making of general arrangements for the arbitration of cases that
might arise in the future was now advocated. The first important
proposal of this character was made to the United States by
Great Britain at the time of the Venezuela affair. This proposal
was rejected, for it was regarded as a device of Great Britain to
cover her retreat in that particular case by suggesting a general
provision. The next suggestion was that made by the Czar, in
1899, for a peace conference at The Hague. This invitation the
United States accepted with hearty good will and she concurred in
the establishment of a permanent court of arbitration to meet in
that city. Andrew Carnegie built a home for it, and President
Roosevelt sent to it as its first case that of the "Pious Fund,"
concerning which the United States had long been in dispute with
Mexico.
The establishment of a world court promoted the formation of
treaties between nations by which they agreed to submit their
differences to The Hague or to similar courts especially formed.
A model, or as it was called a "mondial" treaty was drawn up by
the conference for this purpose. Secretary Hay proceeded to draw
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