“And yet perhaps if countries we compare
And estimate the blessings which they share,
Though patriots flatter, yet shall wisdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind.”
Such is Americaʼs new possession, wherein she has assumed the moral responsibility of establishing a form of government on principles quite opposite to those of the defunct Spanish régime: whether it will be for better or for worse cannot be determined at this tentative stage. Without venturing on the prophetic, one may not only draw conclusions from accomplished facts, but also reasonably assume, in the light of past events, what might have happened under other circumstances. There is scarcely a Power which has not, in the zenith of its prosperity, consciously or unconsciously felt the “divine right” impulse, and claimed that Providence has singled it out to engraft upon an unwilling people its particular conception of human progress. The venture assumes, in time, the more dignified name of “mission”; and when the consequent torrents of blood recede from memory with the ebbing tide of forgetfulness, the conqueror soothes his conscience with a profession of “moral duty,” which the conquered seldom appreciate in the first generation. No unforeseen circumstances whatever caused the United States to drift unwillingly into Philippine affairs. The war in Cuba had not the remotest connexion with these Islands. The adversaryʼs army and navy were too busy with the task of quelling the Tagálog rebellion for any one to imagine they could be sent to the Atlantic. It was hardly possible to believe that the defective Spanish-Philippine squadron could have accomplished the voyage to the Antilles, in time of war, with every neutral port en route closed against it. In any case, so far as the ostensible motive of the Spanish-American War was concerned, American operations in the Philippines might have ended with the Battle of Cavite. The Tagálog rebels were neither seeking nor desiring a change of masters, but the state of war with Spain afforded America the opportunity, internationally recognized as legitimate, to seize any of the enemyʼs possessions; hence the acquisition of the Philippines by conquest. Up to this point there is nothing to criticize, in face of the universal tacit recognition, from time immemorial, of the right of might.
American dominion has never been welcomed by the Filipinos. All the principal Christianized islands, practically representing the whole Archipelago, except Moroland, resisted it by force of arms, until, after two years of warfare, they were so far vanquished that those still remaining in the field, claiming to be warriors, were, judged by their exploits, undistinguishable from the brigand gangs which have infested the Islands for a century and a half. The general desire was, and is, for sovereign independence; and although a pro-American party now exists, it is only in the hope of gaining peacefully that which they despaired of securing by armed resistance to superior force. The question as to how much nearer they are to the goal of their ambition belongs to the future; but there is nothing to show, by a review of accomplished facts, that, without foreign intervention, the Filipinos would have prospered in their rebellion against Spain. Even if they had expelled the Spaniards their independence would have been of short duration, for they would have lost it again in the struggle with some colony-grabbing nation. A united Archipelago under the Malolos Government would have been simply untenable; for, apart from the possible secessions of one or more islands, like Negros, for instance, no Christian Philippine Government could ever have conquered Mindanao and the Sulu Sultanate; indeed, the attempt might have brought about their own ruin, by exhaustion of funds, want of unity in the hopeless contest with the Moro, and foreign intervention to terminate the internecine war. Seeing that Emilio Aguinaldo had to suppress two rivals, even in the midst of the bloody struggle when union was most essential for the attainment of a common end, how many more would have risen up against him in the period of peaceful victory? The expulsion of the friars and the confiscation of their lands would have surprised no one cognizant of Philippine history. But what would have become of religion? Would the predominant religion in the Philippines, fifty years hence, have been Christian? Recent events lead one to conjecture that liberty of cult, under native rule, would have been a misnomer, and Roman Catholicism a persecuted cause, with the civilizing labours of generations ceasing to bear fruit.
No generous, high-minded man, enjoying the glorious privilege of liberty, would withhold from his fellow-men the fullest measure of independence which they were capable of maintaining. If Americaʼs intentions be as the world understands them, she is endeavouring to break down the obstacles which the Filipinos, desiring a lasting independence, would have found insuperable. America claims (as other colonizing nations have done) to have a “mission” to perform, which, in the present case, includes teaching the Filipinos the art of self-government. Did one not reflect that America, from her birth as an independent state, has never pretended to follow on the beaten tracts of the Old World, her brand-new method of colonization would surprise her older contemporaries in a similar task. She has been the first to teach Asiatics the doctrine of equality of races—a theory which the proletariat has interpreted by a self-assertion hitherto unknown, and a gradual relinquishment of that courteous deference towards the white man formerly observable by every European. This democratic doctrine, suddenly launched upon the masses, is changing their character. The polite and submissive native of yore is developing into an ill-bred, up-to-date, wrangling politician. Hence rule by coercion, instead of sentiment, is forced upon America, for up to the present she has made no progress in winning the hearts of the people. Outside the high-salaried circle of Filipinos one never hears a spontaneous utterance of gratitude for the boon of individual liberty or for the suppression of monastic tyranny. The Filipinos craving for immediate independence, regard the United States only in the light of a useful medium for its attainment, and there are indications that their future attachment to their stepmother country will be limited to an unsentimental acceptance of her protection as a material necessity.
Measures of practical utility and of immediate need have been set aside for the pursuit of costly fantastic ideals, which excite more the wonder than the enthusiasm of the people, who see left in abeyance the reforms they most desire. The system of civilizing the natives on a curriculum of higher mathematics, literature, and history, without concurrent material improvement to an equal extent, is like feeding the mind at the expense of the body. No harbour improvements have been made, except at Manila; no canals have been cut; few new provincial roads have been constructed, except for military purposes; no rivers are deepened for navigation, and not a mile of railway opened. The enormous sums of money expended on such unnecessary works as the Benguet road and the creation of multifarious bureaux, with a superfluity of public servants, might have been better employed in the development of agriculture and cognate wealth-producing public works. The excessive salaries paid to high officials seem to be out of all proportion to those of the subordinate assistants. Extravagance in public expenditure necessarily brings increasing taxation to meet it; the luxuries introduced for the sake of American trade are gradually, and unfortunately, becoming necessities, whereas it would be more considerate to reduce them if it were possible. It is no blessing to create a desire in the common people for that which they can very well dispense with and feel just as happy without the knowledge of. The deliberate forcing up of the cost of living has converted a cheap country into an expensive one, and an income which was once a modest competence is now a miserable pittance. The infinite vexatious regulations and complicated restrictions affecting trade and traffic are irritating to every class of business men, whilst the Colonyʼs indebtedness is increasing, the budget shows a deficit, and agriculture—the only local source of wealth—is languishing.
Innovations, costing immense sums to introduce, are forced upon the people, not at all in harmony with their real wants, their instincts, or their character. What is good for America is not necessarily good for the Philippines. One could more readily conceive the feasibility of “assimilation” with the Japanese than with the Anglo-Saxon. To rule and to assimilate are two very different propositions: the latter requires the existence of much in common between the parties. No legislation, example, or tuition will remould a peopleʼs life in direct opposition to their natural environment. Even the descendants of whites in the Philippines tend to merge into, rather than alter, the conditions of the surrounding race, and vice versa. It is quite impossible for a race born and living in the Tropics to adopt the characteristics and thought of a Temperate Zone people. The Filipinos are not an industrious, thrifty people, or lovers of work, and no power on earth will make them so. The Colonyʼs resources are, consequently, not a quarter developed, and are not likely to be by a strict application of the theory of the “Philippines for the Filipinos.” But why worry about their lethargy, if, with it, they are on the way to “perfect contentment”?—that summit of human happiness which no one attains. Ideal government may reach a point where its exactions tend to make life a burden; practical government stops this side of that point. White men will not be found willing to develop a policy which offers them no hope of bettering themselves; and as to labour—other willing Asiatics are always close at hand. Uncertainty of legislation, constantly changing laws, new regulations, the fear of a tax on capital, and general prospective insecurity make large investors pause.
Democratic principles have been too suddenly sprung upon the masses. The autonomy granted to the provinces needs more control than the civil government originally intended, and ends in an appeal on almost every conceivable question being made to one man—the Gov.-General: this excessive concentration makes efficient administration too dependent on the abilities of one person. There are many who still think, and not without reason, that ten years of military rule would have been better for the people themselves. Even now military government might be advantageously re-established in Sámar Island, where the common people are not anxious for the franchise, or care much about political rights. A reasonable amount of personal freedom, with justice, would suffice for them; whilst the trading class would welcome any effective and continuous protection, rather than have to shift for themselves with the risk of being persecuted for having given succour to the pulajanes to save their own lives and property.