"Imperialism" and "The Tracks of Our Forefathers"

by Charles Francis Adams

In a recent letter you kindly suggest that I submit to you a sketch of what, I think, should be said in an address such as it is proposed should now be put forth by the Anti-Imperialist League to the people of the United States.

I last evening read a paper before the Lexington Historical Society, in which I discussed the question of extra-territorial expansion from the historical point of view. A copy of this paper I hope soon to forward you. Meanwhile, there is one aspect, and, to my mind, the all-important aspect of the question, which, in addressing an historical society, was not germane. I refer to the question of a practical policy to be pursued by us, as a nation, under existing conditions. That Spain has abandoned all claim of sovereignty over the Philippine islands admits of no question. Whether the United States has accepted the sovereignty thus abandoned is still an open question; but this I do not regard as material. Nevertheless, we are confronted by a fact; and, whenever we criticise the policy up to this time pursued; we are met with an inquiry as to what we have to propose in place of it. We are invited to stop finding fault with others, and to suggest some feasible alternative policy ourselves.

To this we must, therefore, in fairness, address ourselves. It is, in my judgment, useless to attempt to carry on the discussion merely in the negative form. As opponents of an inchoate policy we must, in place of what we object to, propose something positive, or we must abandon the field. Accepting the alternative, I now want to suggest a positive policy for the consideration of those who feel as we feel. I wish your judgment upon it.

There has, it seems to me, been a great deal of idle "Duty," "Mission," and "Call" talk on the subject of our recent acquisition of "Islands beyond the Sea," and the necessity of adopting some policy, commonly described as "Imperial," in dealing with them. This policy is, in the minds of most people who favor it, to be indirectly modelled on the policy heretofore so successfully pursued under somewhat similar conditions by Great Britain. It involves, as I tried to point out in the Lexington paper I have referred to, the abandonment or reversal of all the fundamental principles of our government since its origin, and of the foreign policy we have heretofore pursued. This, I submit, is absolutely unnecessary. Another and substitute policy, purely American, as contradistinguished from the European or British, known as "Imperial," policy, can readily be formulated.

This essentially American policy would be based both upon our cardinal political principles, and our recent foreign experiences. It is commonly argued that, having destroyed the existing government in Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philippines, we have assumed a political responsibility, and are under a moral obligation to provide another government in place of that which by our action has ceased to exist. What has been our course heretofore under similar circumstances? Precedents, I submit, at once suggest themselves. Precedents, too, directly in point, and within your and my easy recollection.

I refer to the course pursued by us towards Mexico in the year 1848, and again in 1866; towards Hayti for seventy years back; and towards Venezuela as recently as three years ago. It is said that the inhabitants of the islands of the Antilles, and much more those of the Philippine archipelago, are as yet unfitted to maintain a government; and that they should be kept in a condition of "tutelage" until they are fitted so to do. It is further argued that a stable government is necessary, and that it is out of the question for us to permit a condition of chronic disturbance and scandalous unrest to exist so near our own borders as Cuba and Porto Rico. Yet how long, I would ask, did that condition exist in Mexico? And with what results? How long has it existed in Hayti? Has the government of Venezuela ever been "stable"? Have we found it necessary or thought it best to establish a governmental protectorate in any of those immediately adjacent regions?

What has been, historically, our policy—the American, as distinguished from the European and British policy—towards those communities,—two of them Spanish, one African? So far as foreign powers are concerned, we have laid down the principle of "Hands-off." So far as their own government was concerned, we insisted that the only way to learn to walk was to try to walk, and that the history of mankind did not show that nations placed under systems of "tutelage,"—taught to lean for support on a superior power,—ever acquired the faculty of independent action.

Of this, with us, fundamental truth, the British race itself furnishes a very notable example. In the forty-fourth year of the Christian era the island of Great Britain was occupied by what the "Imperial" Romans adjudged to be an inferior race. To the Romans the Britons unquestionably were inferior. Every child's history contains an account of the course then pursued by the superior towards that inferior race, and its results. The Romans occupied Great Britain, and they occupied it hard upon four centuries, holding the people in "tutelage," and protecting them against themselves, as well as against their enemies. With what result? So emasculated and incapable of self-government did the people of England become during their "tutelage" that, when Rome at last withdrew, they found themselves totally unfitted for self-government, much more for facing a foreign enemy. As the last, and best, historian of the English people tells us, the purely despotic system of the imperial government "by crushing all local independence, crushed all local vigor. Men forgot how to fight for their country when they forgot how to govern it."[3] The end was that, through six centuries more, England was overrun, first by those of one race, and then by those of another, until the Normans established themselves in it as conquerors; and then, and not until then, the deteriorating effect of a system of long continued "tutelage" ceased to be felt, and the islanders became by degrees the most energetic, virile, and self-sustaining of races. As nearly, therefore, as can be historically stated, it took eight centuries for the people of England to overcome the injurious influence of four centuries of just such a system as it is now proposed by us to inflict on the Philippines.[4] Hindostan would furnish another highly suggestive example of the educational effects of "tutelage" on a race. After a century and a half of that British "tutelage," what progress has India made towards fitness for self-government? Is the end in sight?

From the historical point of view, it is instructive to note the exactly different results reached through the truly American policy we have pursued in the not dissimilar cases of Hayti and Mexico. While Hayti, it is true, has failed to make great progress in one century, it has made quite as much progress as England made during any equal period immediately after Rome withdrew from it. And that degree of slowness in growth, which with equanimity has been endured by us in Hayti, could certainly be endured by us in islands on the coast of Asia. It cannot be gainsaid that, through our insisting on the policy of non-interference ourselves, and of non-interference by European nations, Hayti has been brought into a position where it is on the high road to better things in future. That has been the result of the prescriptive American policy. With Mexico, the case is far stronger. We all know that in 1848, after our war of spoliation, we had to bolster up a semblance of a government for Mexico, with which to negotiate a treaty of peace. Mexico at that time was reduced by us to a condition of utter anarchy. Under the theory now gaining in vogue, it would then have been our plain duty to make of Mexico an extra-territorial dependency, and protect it against itself. We wisely took a different course. Like other Spanish communities in America, Mexico than passed through a succession of revolutions, from which it became apparent the people were not in a fit condition for self-government. Nevertheless, sternly insisting on non-interference by outside powers, we ourselves wisely left that country to work out its own salvation in its own way.

In 1862, when the United States was involved in the War of the Rebellion, the Europeans took advantage of the situation to invade Mexico, and to establish there a "stable government." They undertook to protect that people against themselves, and to erect for them a species of protectorate, such as we now propose for the Philippines. As soon as our war was over, we insisted upon the withdrawal of Europe from Mexico. What followed is matter of recent history. It is unnecessary to recall it. We did not reduce Mexico into a condition of "tutelage," or establish over it a "protectorate" of our own. We, on the contrary, insisted that it should stand on its own legs; and, by so doing, learn to stand firmly on them, just as a child learns to walk, by being compelled to try to walk, not by being kept everlastingly in "leading strings." This was the American, as contradistinguished from the European policy; and Mexico to-day walks firmly.