It should be observed that the Philippine question, coming upon us as it did, all unlooked for and unsought, made our duty all the more unmistakable. No time was given to judge of the capacity of the people for self-government, nor to ask whether ours was the nation to assume sovereignty. We were simply confronted with a situation. The logic of events (or shall we not say the hand of Providence?) had placed upon us a responsibility which, whether desirable or undesirable, we could not shirk. We stood sponsor to the world for the islands, the sovereignty over which we had destroyed. As a question of international law there could be no doubt of our sovereignty.
“But”, says the anti-imperialist, “this is ignoring the rights of the inhabitants”, and then he proceeds in academic fashion to solve the whole problem by a very simple syllogism, thus:
Major premise—All just government is founded upon the consent of the governed.
Minor premise—The natives of the Philippines are in need of a just government.
Conclusion—The Philippines should be left to take care of themselves.
And this pleasant bit of sophistry actually passes for argument among those who do not stop to see the gaps in it—who do not reflect that a government is a growth, and not a mere artificial structure to be erected by inexperienced hands—who do not reflect that something is due to international comity, and that the nations would certainly have to be reckoned with in the advent of a new power—and finally, who will not give candid consideration to the unanimous testimony of such men as Schurman, Worcester, Denby, Otis and Dewey to the effect that “no tie of race, religion, sympathy or common interest of any kind holds the natives together or justifies a belief in their capacity for self-government”!
But other objections are raised against American occupation of the Philippines. It is alleged that it is contrary to our traditional policy; that it is in disregard of the advice of Washington to “avoid entangling alliances”; that it sacrifices our “splendid isolation”, and makes us more vulnerable to a foreign enemy.
All these objections—if objections they are—must be met by a frank admission. But it is worth while to inquire into their validity as objections—to see whether they should have as much weight henceforth as they have had in the past; for we must all see very plainly that the policy of “expansion” involves a radical change in our world relations—a change somewhat at variance with our historic policy.
Let me not be misunderstood when I say that a certain reserve (to use no stronger term) has always characterized our government—not our citizens, mind you, but our government—that we have exhibited toward the “Old World” such an attitude as, who should say—“We have come out into this New World to escape the tyranny of the Old. We have explored it, conquered it, settled it, and then won our independence from the Old. We consider our land and its government peculiarly suited to become the ‘land of the free and the home of the brave’—‘a home for the oppressed of all nations’. We intend to stay at home and not meddle in your affairs, and we expect you to do the same”.
An attitude such as this is just what one would expect in the light of colonial and revolutionary history. But there is another—a politic reason: a weak power with a flattering prospect of becoming a great one is just such a prize as would tempt the cupidity of stronger powers; hence it would desire nothing so much as to be let alone. Such a power should above all things “avoid entangling alliances”—keep to itself until its strength is developed. Such a power we were when those words were uttered, and such we remained as long as the schism of slavery existed, so that never did we realize our full, united strength until called into action against Spain. Up to the present, then, Washington’s advice has proved sound policy.