I
A NATIONAL FOREIGN POLICY
The logic of a national democratic ideal and the responsibilities of a
national career in the world involve a number of very definite
consequences in respect to American foreign policy. They involve, in
fact, a conception of the place of a democratic nation in relation to
the other civilized nations, different from that which has hitherto
prevailed in this country. Because of their geographical situation and
their democratic institutions, Americans have claimed and still claim a
large degree of national aloofness and independence; but such a claim
could have been better defended several generations ago than it can
to-day. Unquestionably the geographical situation of the United States
must always have a decisive effect upon the nature of its policy in
foreign affairs; and undoubtedly no course of action in respect to other
nations can be national without serving the interests of democracy. But
precisely because an American foreign policy must be candidly and
vigorously national, it will gradually bring with it an increasingly
complicated group of international ties and duties. The American nation,
just in so far as it believes in its nationality and is ready to become
more of a nation, must assume a more definite and a more responsible
place in the international system. It will have an increasingly
important and an increasingly specific part to play in the political
affairs of the world; and, in spite of "old-fashioned democratic"
scruples and prejudices, the will to play that part for all it is worth
will constitute a beneficial and a necessary stimulus to the better
realization of the Promise of our domestic life.
A genuinely national policy must, of course, be based upon a correct
understanding of the national interest in relation to those of its
neighbors and associates. That American policy did obtain such a
foundation during the early years of American history is to be traced to
the sound political judgment of Washington and Hamilton. Jefferson and
the Republicans did their best for a while to persuade the American
democracy to follow the dangerous course of the French democracy, and to
base its international policy not upon the firm ground of national
interest, but on the treacherous sands of international democratic
propagandism. After a period of hesitation, the American people, with
their usual good sense in the face of a practical emergency, rallied to
the principles subsequently contained in Washington's Farewell Address;
and the Jeffersonian Republicans, when they came into control of the
Federal government, took over this conception of American national
policy together with the rest of the Federalist outfit. But like the
rest of the Federalist organization and ideas, the national foreign
policy was emasculated by the expression it received at the hands of the
Republicans. The conduct of American foreign affairs during the first
fifteen years of the century are an illustration of the ills which may
befall a democracy during a critical international period, when its
foreign policy is managed by a party of anti-national patriots.
After 1815 the foreign policy of the United States was determined by a
strict adherence to the principles enunciated in Washington's Farewell
Address. The adherence was more in the letter than in the spirit, and
the ordinary popular interpretation, which prevails until the present
day, cannot be granted undivided approval; but so far as its immediate
problems were concerned, American foreign policy did not, on the whole,
go astray. The United States kept resolutely clear of European
entanglements, and did not participate in international councils, except
when the rights of neutrals were under discussion; and this persistent
neutrality was precisely the course which was needed in order to confirm
the international position of the country as well as to leave the road
clear for its own national development. But certain consequences were at
an early date deduced from a neutral policy which require more careful
examination. During the presidency of Monroe the systematic isolation of
the United States in respect to Europe was developed, so far as the two
Americas were concerned, into a more positive doctrine. It was
proclaimed that abstention on the part of the United States from
European affairs should be accompanied by a corresponding abstention by
the European Powers from aggressive action in the two Americas. What our
government proposed to do was to divide sharply the democratic political
system of the Americas from the monarchical and aristocratic political
system of Europe. The European system, based as it was upon royalist
legitimacy and privileges, and denying as it did popular political
rights, was declared to be inimical in spirit and in effect to the
American democratic state.
The Monroe Doctrine has been accepted in this form ever since as an
indisputable corollary of the Farewell Address. The American people and
politicians cherish it as a priceless political heirloom. It is
considered to be the equivalent of the Declaration of Independence in
the field of foreign affairs; and it arouses an analogous volume and
fury of conviction. Neither is this conviction merely the property of
Fourth-of-July Americans. Our gravest publicists usually contribute to
the Doctrine a no less emphatic adherence; and not very many years ago
one of the most enlightened of American statesmen asserted that American
foreign policy as a whole could be sufficiently summed up in the phrase,
"The Monroe Doctrine and the Golden Rule." Does the Monroe Doctrine, as
stated above, deserve such uncompromising adherence? Is it an adequate
expression of the national interest of the American democracy in the
field of foreign affairs?
At the time the Monroe Doctrine was originally proclaimed, it did
unquestionably express a valid national interest of the American
democracy. It was the American retort to the policy of the Holy Alliance
which sought to erect the counter-revolutionary principles into an
international system, and which suppressed, so far as possible, all
nationalist or democratic agitation. The Spanish-American colonies had
been winning their independence from Spain; and there was a fear, not
entirely ill-founded, that the Alliance would apply its anti-democratic
international policy to the case of Spain's revolted colonies. Obviously
the United States, both as a democracy and as a democracy which had won
its independence by means of a revolutionary war, could not admit the
right of any combination of European states to suppress national and
democratic uprisings on the American continents. Our government would
have been wholly justified in resisting such interference with all its
available military force. But in what sense and upon what grounds was
the United States justified in going farther than this, and in asserting
that under no circumstances should there be any increase of European
political influence upon the American continents? What is the propriety
and justice of such a declaration of continental isolation? What are its
implications? And what, if any, are its dangers?
In seeking an answer to these questions we must return to the source of
American foreign policy in the Farewell Address. That address contains
the germ of a prudent and wise American national policy; but Hamilton,
in preparing its phrasing, was guided chiefly by a consideration of the
immediate needs and dangers of his country. The Jeffersonian Republicans
in their enthusiasm for the French Revolution proposed for a while to
bring about a permanent alliance between France and the United States,
the object whereof should be the propagation of the democratic political
faith. Both Washington and Hamilton saw clearly that such behavior would
entangle the United States in all the vicissitudes and turmoil which
might attend the development of European democracy; and their favorite
policy of neutrality and isolation implied both that the national
interest of the United States was not concerned in merely European
complications, and that the American people, unlike those of France, did
not propose to make their political principles an excuse for
international aggression. The Monroe Doctrine, as proclaimed in 1825,
rounded out this negative policy with a more positive assertion of
principles. It declared that the neutrality of the American democracy,
so far as Europe was concerned, must be balanced by the non-intervention
of European legitimacy and aristocracy in the affairs of the American
continents. Now this extension of American foreign policy was, as we
have seen, justified, in so far as it was a protest against any possible
interference on the part of the Holy Alliance in American politics. It
was, moreover, justified in so far as it sought to identify the
attainment of a desirable democratic purpose with American international
policy. Of course Hamilton, when he tried to found the international
policy of his country upon the national interest, wholly failed to
identify that interest with any positive democratic purpose; but in
this, as in other respects, Hamilton was not a thorough-going democrat.
While he was right in seeking to prevent the American people from
allying themselves with the aggressive French democracy, he was wrong in
failing to foresee that the national interest of the United States was
identified with the general security and prosperity of liberal political
institutions--that the United States must by every practical means
encourage the spread of democratic methods and ideas. As much in foreign
as in domestic affairs must the American people seek to unite national
efficiency with democratic idealism. The Monroe Doctrine, consequently,
is not to be condemned, as it has been condemned, merely because it went
far beyond the limited foreign policy of Hamilton. The real question in
regard to the Doctrine is whether it seeks in a practicable way--in a
way consistent with the national interest and inevitable international
responsibilities--the realization of the democratic idea. Do the rigid
advocates of that Doctrine fall into an error analogous to the error
against which Washington and Hamilton were protesting? Do they not tend,
indirectly, and within a limited compass, to convert the American
democratic idea into a dangerously aggressive principle?
The foregoing question must, I believe, be answered partly in the
affirmative. The Monroe Doctrine, as usually stated, does give a
dangerously militant tendency to the foreign policy of the United
States; and unless its expression is modified, it may prevent the United
States from occupying a position towards the nations of Europe and
America in conformity with its national interest and its national
principle. It should be added, however, that this unwholesomely
aggressive quality is only a tendency, which will not become active
except under certain possible conditions, and which can gradually be
rendered less dangerous by the systematic development of the Doctrine as
a positive principle of political action in the Western hemisphere.
The Monroe Doctrine has, of course, no status in the accepted system of
International Law. Its international standing is due almost entirely to
its express proclamation as an essential part of the foreign policy of
the United States, and it depends for its weight upon the ability of
this country to compel its recognition by the use of latent or actual
military force. Great Britain has, perhaps, tacitly accepted it, but no
other European country has done so, and a number of them have expressly
stated that it entails consequences against which they might sometime be
obliged strenuously and forcibly to protest. No forcible protest has as
yet been made, because no European country has had anything to gain from
such a protest, comparable to the inevitable cost of a war with the
United States.
The dangerously aggressive tendency of the Monroe Doctrine is not due to
the fact that it derives its standing from the effective military power
of the United States. The recognition which any proclamation of a
specific principle of foreign policy receives will depend, in case it
conflicts with the actual or possible interests of other nations, upon
the military and naval power with which it can be maintained. The
question as to whether a particular doctrine is unwholesomely aggressive
depends, consequently, not upon the mere fact that it may provoke a war,
but upon the doubt that, if it provokes a war, such a war can be
righteously fought. Does the Doctrine as usually stated, possibly or
probably commit the United States to an unrighteous war--a war in which
the United States would be opposing a legitimate interest on the part of
one or a group of European nations? Does an American foreign policy of
the "Monroe Doctrine and the Golden Rule" proclaim two parallel springs
of national action in foreign affairs which may prove to be
incompatible?
There is a danger that such may be the case. The Monroe Doctrine in its
most popular form proclaims a rigid policy of continental isolation--of
America for the Americans and of Europe for the Europeans. European
nations may retain existing possessions in the Americas, but such
possessions must not be increased. So far, so good. A European nation,
which sought defiantly to increase its American possessions, in spite of
the express declaration of the United States that such action would mean
war, would deserve the war thereby incurred. But there are many ways of
increasing the political influence of European Powers in the Americas
without actual territorial appropriation. The emigration from several
European states and from Japan to South America is already
considerable, and is likely to increase rather than diminish. European
commercial interests in South America are greater than ours, and in the
future will become greater still. The South Americans have already
borrowed large quantities of European capital, and will need more. The
industrial and agricultural development of the South American states is
constantly tying them more closely to Europe than it is to the United
States. It looks, consequently, as if irresistible economic conditions
were making in favor of an increase of effective European influence in
South America. The growth of that influence is part of the
world-movement in the direction of the better utilization of the
economic resources of mankind. South America cannot develop without the
benefits of European capital, additional European labor, European
products, and European experience and training; and in the course of
another few generations the result will be a European investment in
South America, which may in a number of different ways involve political
complications. We have already had a foretaste of those consequences in
the steps which the European Powers took a few years ago to collect
debts due to Europeans by Venezuela.
The increasing industrial, social, and financial bonds might not have
any serious political consequences, provided the several South American
states were possessed of stable governments, orderly political
traditions, and a political standing under definite treaties similar to
that of the smaller European states. But such is not the case. The alien
investment in South America may involve all sorts of political
complications which would give European or Asiatic Powers a justifiable
right under the law of nations to interfere. Up to the present time, as
we have seen, such interference has promised to be too costly; but the
time may well come when the advantages of interference will more than
counterbalance the dangers of a forcible protest. Moreover, in case such
a protest were made, it might not come from any single European Power. A
general European interest would be involved. The United States might
well find her policy of America for the Americans result in an attempt
on the part of a European coalition to bring about a really effectual
isolation. We might find ourselves involved in a war against a
substantially united Europe. Such a danger seems sufficiently remote at
present; but in the long run a policy which carries isolation too far is
bound to provoke justifiable attempts to break it down. If Europe and
the Americas are as much divided in political interest as the Monroe
Doctrine seems to assert, the time will inevitably arrive when the two
divergent political systems must meet and fight; and plenty of occasions
for such a conflict will arise, as soon as the policy of isolation
begins to conflict with the establishment of that political relation
between Europe and South America demanded by fundamental economic and
social interests. Thus under certain remote but entirely possible
conditions, the Doctrine as now proclaimed and practiced might justify
Europe in seeking to break it down by reasons at least as valid as those
of our own country in proclaiming it.
But if the Monroe Doctrine could only be maintained by a war of this
kind, or a succession of wars, it would defeat the very purpose which it
is supposed to accomplish. It would embroil the United States and the
two American continents in continual trouble with Europe; and it would
either have to be abandoned or else would carry with it incessant and
enormous expenditures for military and naval purposes. The United States
would have to become a predominantly military power, armed to the teeth,
to resist or forestall European attack; and our country would have to
accept these consequences, for the express purpose of keeping the
Americas unsullied by the complications of European politics. Obviously
there is a contradiction in such a situation. The United States could
fight with some show of reason a single European Power, like France in
1865, which undertook a policy of American territorial aggrandizement;
but if it were obliged to fight a considerable portion of Europe for the
same purpose, it would mean that our country was opposing a general, and
presumably a legitimate, European interest. In that event America would
become a part of the European political system with a vengeance--a part
which in its endeavor to escape from the vicissitudes of European
politics had brought upon itself a condition of permanent military
preparation and excitement. Consequently, in case the "Monroe Doctrine
and the Golden Rule" are to remain the foundation of American foreign
policy, mere prudence demands a systematic attempt to prevent the
Doctrine from arousing just and effective European opposition.
No one can believe more firmly than myself that the foreign policy of a
democratic nation should seek by all practicable and inoffensive means
the affirmation of democracy; but the challenge which the Monroe
Doctrine in its popular form issues to Europe is neither an inoffensive
nor a practicable means of affirmation. It is based usually upon the
notion of an essential incompatibility between American and European
political institutions; and the assertion of such an incompatibility at
the present time can only be the result of a stupid or willful American
democratic Bourbonism. Such an incompatibility did exist when the Holy
Alliance dominated Europe. It does not exist to-day, except in one
particular. The exception is important, as we shall see presently; but
it does not concern the domestic institutions of the European and the
American states. The emancipated and nationalized European states of
to-day, so far from being essentially antagonistic to the American
democratic nation, are constantly tending towards a condition which
invites closer and more fruitful association with the United States; and
any national doctrine which proclaims a rooted antagonism lies almost at
right angles athwart the road of American democratic national
achievement. Throughout the whole of the nineteenth century the European
nations have been working towards democracy by means of a completer
national organization; while this country has been working towards
national cohesion by the mere logic and force of its democratic ideal.
Thus the distance between America and Europe is being diminished; and
Americans in their individual behavior bear the most abundant and
generous testimony to the benefits which American democracy can derive
from association with the European nations. It is only in relation to
the Monroe Doctrine that we still make much of the essential
incompatibility between European and American institutions, and by so
doing we distort and misinterpret the valid meaning of a national
democratic foreign policy. The existing domestic institutions of the
European nations are for the most part irrelevant to such a policy.
The one way in which the foreign policy of the United States can make
for democracy is by strengthening and encouraging those political
forces which make for international peace. The one respect in which the
political system, represented by the United States, is still
antagonistic to the European political system is that the European
nation, whatever its ultimate tendency, is actually organized for
aggressive war, that the cherished purposes of some of its states cannot
be realized without war, and that the forces which hope to benefit by
war are stronger than the forces which hope to benefit by peace. That is
the indubitable reason why the United States must remain aloof from the
European system and must avoid scrupulously any entanglements in the
complicated web of European international affairs. The policy of
isolation is in this respect as wise to-day as it was in the time of its
enunciation by Washington and Hamilton; and nobody seriously proposes to
depart from it. On the other hand, the basis for this policy is wholly
independent of the domestic institutions of the European nations. It
derives from the fact that at any time those nations may go to war about
questions in which the United States has no vital interest. The
geographical situation of the United States emancipates her from these
conflicts, and enables her to stand for the ultimate democratic interest
in international peace.
This justifiable policy of isolation has, moreover, certain important
consequences in respect to the foreign policy of the United States in
the two Americas. In this field, also, the United States must stand in
every practicable way for a peaceful international system, and whatever
validity the Monroe Doctrine may have in its relation to the European
nations is the outcome of that obligation. If South and Central America
were thrown open to European colonial ambitions, they would be involved
very much more than they are at present in the consequences of European
wars. In this sense the increase of European political influence in the
two Americas would be an undesirable thing which the United States would
have good reason to oppose. In this sense the extension of the European
system to the American hemisphere would involve consequences inimical to
democracy. In 1801 the North was fighting, not merely to preserve
American national integrity, but to prevent the formation of a state on
its southern frontier which could persist only by virtue of a European
alliance, and which would consequently have entangled the free republic
of the Northern states in the network of irrelevant European
complications. Such would be the result of any attempt on the part of
the European states to seek alliances or to pursue an aggressive policy
on this side of the Atlantic.
But it may be asked, how can European aggressions in America be opposed,
even on the foregoing ground, without requiring enormous and increasing
military preparations? Would not the Monroe Doctrine, even in that
modified form, involve the same practical inconsistency which has
already been attached to its popular expression? The answer is simple.
It will involve a similar inconsistency unless effective means are taken
to avoid the inevitable dangers of such a challenge to Europe--unless,
that is, means are taken to prevent Europe from having any just cause
for intervention in South America for the purpose of protecting its own
investment of men and money. The probable necessity of such intervention
is due to the treacherous and unstable political conditions prevailing
on that continent; and the Monroe Doctrine, consequently, commits the
United States at least to the attempt to constitute in the two Americas
a stable and peaceful international system. During the next two or three
generations the European states will be too much preoccupied elsewhere
to undertake or even to threaten any serious or concerted interference
in South America. During that interval, while the Monroe Doctrine
remains in its present situation of being unrecognized but unchallenged,
American statesmen will have their opportunity. If the American system
can be made to stand for peace, just as the European system stands at
present for war, then the United States will have an unimpeachable
reason in forbidding European intervention. European states would no
longer have a legitimate ground for interference; it would be impossible
for them to take any concerted action. The American nation would testify
to its sincere democracy both by its negative attitude towards a
militant European system and by its positive promotion of a peaceful
international system in the two Americas.
On the other hand, if a stable international system either is not or
cannot be constituted in the two Americas, the Monroe Doctrine will
probably involve this country in wars which would be not merely
exhausting and demoralizing, but fruitless. We should be fighting to
maintain a political system which would be in no essential respect
superior to the European political system. The South and Central
American states have been almost as ready to fight among themselves, and
to cherish political plans which can be realized only by war, as the
European states. In the course of time, as they grow in population and
wealth, they also will entertain more or less desirable projects of
expansion; and the resulting conflicts would, the United States
permitting, be sure to involve European alliances and complications. Why
should the United States prepare for war in order to preserve the
integrity of states which, if left to themselves, might well have an
interest in compromising their own independence, and which, unless
subjected to an edifying pressure, would probably make comparatively
poor use of the independence they enjoyed? Surely the only valid reason
for fighting in order to prevent the growth of European political
influence in the two Americas is the creation of a political system on
behalf of which it is worth while to fight.
II
A STABLE AMERICAN INTERNATIONAL SYSTEM
Possibly some of my readers will have inferred by this time that the
establishment of a peaceable international system in the two Americas is
only a sanctimonious paraphrase for a policy on the part of this country
of political aggrandizement in the Western hemisphere. Such an inference
would be wholly unjust. Before such a system can be established, the use
of compulsion may on some occasions be necessary; but the United States
acting individually, could rarely afford to employ forcible means. An
essential condition of the realization of the proposed system would be
the ability of American statesmen to convince the Latin-Americans of the
disinterestedness of their country's intentions; and to this end the
active coöperation of one or more Latin-American countries in the
realization of the plan would be indispensable. The statesmen of this
country can work without coöperation as long as they are merely seeking
to arouse public sentiment in favor of such a plan, or as long as they
are clearing away preliminary obstacles; but no decisive step can be
taken without assurance of support on the part of a certain proportion
of the Latin-American states, and the best way gradually to obtain such
support has already been indicated by Mr. Elihu Root during his official
term as Secretary of State. He has begun the work of coming to an
understanding with the best element in South American opinion by his
candid and vigorous expression of the fundamental interest of the United
States in its relations with its American neighbors.
Fifteen years ago the attempt to secure effective support from any of
the Latin-American states in the foundation of a stable American
international system would have looked hopeless. Countries with so
appalling a record of domestic violence and instability could apparently
be converted to a permanently peaceable behavior in respect to their
neighbors only by the use of force. But recently several niches have
been built into the American political structure on which a foothold may
eventually be obtained. In general the political condition of the more
powerful Latin-American states, such as Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, and
Chile, has become more stable and more wholesome. If their condition of
stability and health persists, their industrial and commercial
prosperity will also continue; and little by little their political
purposes will become more explicit and more significant. As soon as this
stage is reached, it should be possible for American statesmen to
estimate accurately the weight of the probable obstacles which any
movement towards an international agreement would encounter. A series of
particular steps could then be taken, tending to remove such obstacles,
and, if wise, the whole question of an international agreement could be
raised in some definite way.
Such obstacles may prove to be insurmountable; but provided the
Latin-Americans can be convinced of the disinterestedness of this
country, they do not look insurmountable. Acquiescence in a permanent
American international system would, of course, imply a certain
sacrifice of independence on the part of the several contracting states;
but in return for this sacrifice their situation in respect to their
neighbors would receive a desirable certification. They would renounce
the right of going to war in return for a guarantee of their
independence in other respects, and for the consequent chance of an
indefinite period of orderly economic and social development. Whether
they can ever be brought to such a renunciation will depend, of course,
on the conception of their national interest which the more important
Latin-American states will reach. As long as any one of them cherishes
objects which can only be realized by war, the international situation
in the Western hemisphere will remain similar to that of Europe. An
actual or latent aggressiveness on the part of any one nation inevitably
provokes its neighbors into a defiant and suspicious temper. It is too
soon to predict whether the economic and political development of the
Latin-Americans during the next generation will make for a warlike or a
peaceful international organization; but considering the political
geography of South America and the manifest economic interests of the
several states, it does not look as if any one of them had as much to
gain from a militant organization as it had from a condition of
comparative international security.
The domestic condition of some of the Latin-American states presents a
serious obstacle to the creation of a stable American international
system. Such a system presupposes a condition of domestic peace. The
several contracting states must possess permanent and genuinely national
political organizations; and no such organization is possible as long as
the tradition and habit of revolution persists. As we have seen, the
political habits of the more important states have in this respect
enormously improved of late years, but there remain a number of minor
countries wherein the right of revolution is cherished as the essential
principle of their democracy. Just what can be done with such states is
a knotty problem. In all probability no American international system
will ever be established without the forcible pacification of one or
more such centers of disorder. Coercion should, of course, be used only
in the case of extreme necessity; and it would not be just to deprive
the people of such states of the right of revolution, unless effective
measures were at the same time taken to do away with the more or less
legitimate excuses for revolutionary protest. In short, any
international American political system might have to undertake a task
in states like Venezuela, similar to that which the United States is now
performing in Cuba. That any attempt to secure domestic stability would
be disinterested, if not successful, would be guaranteed by the
participation or the express acquiescence therein of the several
contracting states.
The United States has already made an effective beginning in this great
work, both by the pacification of Cuba and by the attempt to introduce a
little order into the affairs of the turbulent Central American
republics. The construction of the Panama Canal has given this country
an exceptional interest in the prevalence of order and good government
in the territory between Panama and Mexico; and in the near future our
best opportunity for improving international political conditions in the
Western hemisphere will be found in this comparatively limited but, from
a selfish point of view, peculiarly important field. Within this
restricted area the same obstacles will be encountered as in the larger
area, and success will depend upon the use of similar means and the
exhibition of similar qualities. Very little can be achieved in Central
America without the coöperation of Mexico, and without the ability to
convince Mexican statesmen of the disinterested intentions of this
country. In the same way any recrudescence of revolutionary upheavals in
Mexico would enormously increase the difficulties and perils of the
attempt. On the other hand, success in bringing about with Mexican
coöperation a condition of political security and comparative stability
in Central America would augur well for the success of the larger and
more difficult attempt to perform a similar work for the whole American
hemisphere.
The most difficult task, however, connected with the establishment of a
peaceful American international system is presented by Canada. In case
such a system were constituted, Canada should most assuredly form a part
of it. Yet she could not form a part of it without a radical alteration
in her relations with Great Britain. Canada is tied to the British
Imperial system, and her policy and destiny depends upon the policy and
destiny of the British Empire. She is content with this situation, not
merely because she is loyal to the mother country, but because she
believes that her association with Great Britain guarantees her
independence in respect to the United States. Many Canadians cherish a
profound conviction that the United States wishes nothing so much as
the annexation of the Dominion; and the one thing in the world which
they propose to prevent is a successful attack upon their independence.
This is the natural attitude of a numerically weak people, divided by a
long and indefensible frontier from a numerous and powerful neighbor;
and while the people of this country have done nothing since the War of
1812 positively to provoke such suspicions, they have, on the other
hand, done nothing to allay them. We have never attempted to secure the
good will of the Canadians in any respect; and we have never done
anything to establish better relations. Yet unless such better relations
are established, the United States will lose an indispensable ally in
the making of a satisfactory political system in the Western hemisphere
while at the same time the American people will be in the sorry
situation for a sincere democracy of having created only apprehension
and enmity on the part of their nearest and most intelligent neighbors.
Under such circumstances the very first object of the foreign policy of
the United States should be to place its relations with Canada on a
better footing. There was a time when this object could have been
accomplished by the negotiation of a liberal treaty of commercial
reciprocity. If the commercial policy of the United States had been
determined by its manifest national interest instead of by the interests
of a group of special industries, such a treaty would have been signed
many years ago. A great opportunity was lost when the negotiations
failed early in the eighties, because ever since Canada has been
tightening her commercial ties with Great Britain; and these ties will
be still further tightened as Canada grows into a large grain-exporting
country. But while it will be impossible to make an arrangement as
advantageous as the one which might have been made twenty-five years
ago, the national interest plainly demands the negotiation of the most
satisfactory treaty possible at the present time; and if the special
interests of a few industries are allowed to stand indefinitely in the
way, we shall be plainly exhibiting our incompetence to carry out an
enlightened and a truly national foreign policy. We shall be branding
ourselves with the mark of a merely trading democracy which is unable to
subordinate the selfish interests of a few of its citizens to the
realization of a policy combining certain commercial advantages with an
essential national object. Just as the maintenance of the present high
protective tariff is the clearest possible indication of the domination
of special over national interests in domestic politics, so the resolute
opposition which these industries show to the use of the tariff as an
instrument of a national foreign policy, suggests that the first duty of
the United States as a nation is to testify to its emancipation from
such bondage by revising the tariff. The matter concerns not merely
Canada, but the South American Republics; and it is safe to say that the
present policy of blind protection is an absolute bar to the realization
of that improved American political system which is the correlative in
foreign affairs of domestic individual and social amelioration.
The desirable result of the utmost possible commercial freedom between
Canada and the United States would be to prepare the way for closer
political association. By closer political association I do not mean the
annexation of Canada to the United States. Such annexation might not be
desirable even with the consent of Canada. What I do mean is some
political recognition of the fact that the real interests of Canada in
foreign affairs coincide with the interests of the United States rather
than with the interests of Great Britain. Great Britain's interest in
the independence of Holland or in the maintenance of the Turkish power
in Europe might involve England in a European war, in which Canada would
have none but a sentimental stake, but from which she might suffer
severe losses. At bottom Canada needs for her political and commercial
welfare disentanglement from European complications just as much as does
the United States; and the diplomacy, official and unofficial, of the
United States, should seek to convince Canada of the truth of this
statement. Neither need a policy which looked in that direction
necessarily incur the enmity of Great Britain. In view of the increasing
cost of her responsibilities in Europe and in Asia, England has a great
deal to gain by concentration and by a partial retirement from the
American continent, so far as such a retirement could be effected
without being recreant to her responsibilities towards Canada. The need
of such retirement has already been indicated by the diminution of her
fleet in American waters; and if her expenses and difficulties in Europe
and Asia increase, she might be glad to reach some arrangement with
Canada and the United States which would recognize a dominant Canadian
interest in freedom from exclusively European political vicissitudes.
Such an arrangement is very remote; but it looks as if under certain
probable future conditions, a treaty along the following lines might be
acceptable to Great Britain, Canada, and the United States. The American
and the English governments would jointly guarantee the independence of
Canada. Canada, on her part, would enter into an alliance with the
United States, looking towards the preservation of peace on the American
continents and the establishment of an American international political
system. Canada and the United States in their turn would agree to lend
the support of their naval forces to Great Britain in the event of a
general European war, but solely for the purpose of protecting the
cargoes of grain and other food which might be needed by Great Britain.
Surely the advantages of such an arrangement would be substantial and
well-distributed. Canada would feel secure in her independence, and
would be emancipated from irrelevant European complications. The United
States would gain support, which is absolutely essential for the proper
pacification of the American continent, and would pay for that support
only by an engagement consonant with her interest as a food-exporting
power. Great Britain would exchange a costly responsibility for an
assurance of food in the one event, which Britons must fear--viz., a
general European war with strong maritime powers on the other side. Such
an arrangement would, of course, be out of the question at present; but
it suggests the kind of treaty which might lead Great Britain to consent
to the national emancipation of Canada, and which could be effected
without endangering Canadian independence.
Any systematic development of the foreign policy of the United States,
such as proposed herewith, will seem very wild to the majority of
Americans. They will not concede its desirability, because the American
habit is to proclaim doctrines and policies, without considering either
the implications, the machinery necessary to carry them out, or the
weight of the resulting responsibilities. But in estimating the
practicability of the policy proposed, the essential idea must be
disentangled from any possible methods of realizing it--such as the
suggested treaty between the United States, Great Britain, and Canada.
An agreement along those lines may never be either practicable or
prudent, but the validity of the essential idea remains unaffected by
the abandonment of a detail. That idea demands that effective and
far-sighted arrangements be made in order to forestall the inevitable
future objections on the part of European nations to an uncompromising
insistence on the Monroe Doctrine; and no such arrangement is possible,
except by virtue of Canadian and Mexican coöperation as well as that of
some of the South American states. It remains for American statesmanship
and diplomacy to discover little by little what means are practicable
and how much can be accomplished under any particular set of conditions.
A candid man must admit that the obstacles may prove to be insuperable.
One of any number of possible contingencies may serve to postpone its
realization indefinitely. Possibly neither Canada nor Great Britain will
consent to any accommodation with the United States. Possibly one or
more South American states will assume an aggressive attitude towards
their neighbors. Possibly their passions, prejudices, and suspicions
will make them prefer the hazards and the costs of military preparations
and absolute technical independence, even though their interests counsel
another course. Possibly the consequences of some general war in Europe
or Asia will react on the two Americas and embroil the international
situation to the point of hopeless misunderstanding and confusion.
Indeed, the probabilities are that in America as in Europe the road to
any permanent international settlement will be piled mountain high with
dead bodies, and will be traveled, if at all, only after a series of
abortive and costly experiments. But remote and precarious as is the
establishment of any American international system, it is not for
American statesmen necessarily either an impracticable, an irrelevant,
or an unworthy object. Fail though we may in the will, the intelligence,
or the power to carry it out, the systematic effort to establish a
peaceable American system is just as plain and just as inevitable a
consequence of the democratic national principle, as is the effort to
make our domestic institutions contribute to the work of individual and
social amelioration.
III
DEMOCRACY AND PEACE
A genuinely national foreign policy for the American democracy is not
exhausted by the Monroe Doctrine. The United States already has certain
colonial interests; and these interests may hereafter be extended. I do
not propose at the present stage of this discussion to raise the
question as to the legitimacy in principle of a colonial policy on the
part of a democratic nation. The validity of colonial expansion even for
a democracy is a manifest deduction from the foregoing political
principles, always assuming that the people whose independence is
thereby diminished are incapable of efficient national organization. On
the other hand, a democratic nation cannot righteously ignore an
unusually high standard of obligation for the welfare of its colonial
population. It would be distinctly recreant to its duty, in case it
failed to provide for the economic prosperity of such a population, and
for their educational discipline and social improvement. It by no means
follows, however, that because there is no rigid objection on democratic
principles to colonial expansion, there may not be the strongest
practical objection on the score of national interest to the acquisition
of any particular territory. A remote colony is, under existing
international conditions, even more of a responsibility than it is a
source of national power and efficiency; and it is always a grave
question how far the assumption of any particular responsibility is
worth while.
Without entering into any specific discussion, there can, I think, be
little doubt that the United States was justified in assuming its
existing responsibilities in respect to Cuba and its much more abundant
responsibilities in respect to Porto Rico. Neither can it be fairly
claimed that hitherto the United States has not dealt disinterestedly
and in good faith with the people of these islands. On the other hand,
our acquisition of the Philippines raises a series of much more doubtful
questions. These islands have been so far merely an expensive
obligation, from which little benefit has resulted to this country and a
comparatively moderate benefit to the Filipinos. They have already cost
an amount of money far beyond any chance of compensation, and an amount
of American and Filipino blood, the shedding of which constitutes a
grave responsibility. Their future defense against possible attack
presents a military and naval problem of the utmost difficulty. In fact,
they cannot be defended from Japan except by the maintenance of a fleet
in Pacific waters at least as large as the Japanese fleet; and it does
not look probable that the United States will be able to afford for
another generation any such concentration of naval strength in the
Pacific. But even though from the military point of view the Philippines
may constitute a source of weakness and danger, their possession will
have the political advantage of keeping the American people alive to
their interests in the grave problems which will be raised in the Far
East by the future development of China and Japan.
The future of China raises questions of American foreign policy second
only in importance to the establishment of a stable American
international organization; and in relation to these questions, also,
the interests of the United States and Canada tend both to coincide and
to diverge (possibly) from those of Great Britain. Just what form the
Chinese question will assume, after the industrial and the political
awakening of China has resulted in a more effective military
organization and in greater powers both of production and consumption,
cannot be predicted with any certainty; but at present, it looks as if
the maintenance of the traditional American policy with respect to
China, viz., the territorial integrity and the free commercial
development of that country, might require quite as considerable a
concentration of naval strength in the Pacific as is required by the
defense of the Philippines. It is easy enough to enunciate such a
policy, just as it is easy to proclaim a Monroe Doctrine which no
European Power has any sufficient immediate interest to dispute; but it
is wholly improbable that China can be protected in its territorial
integrity and its political independence without a great deal of
diplomacy and more or less fighting. During the life of the coming
generation there will be brought home clearly to the American people how
much it will cost to assert its own essential interests in China; and
the peculiar value of the Philippines as an American colony will consist
largely in the fact that they will help American public opinion to
realize more quickly than it otherwise would the complications and
responsibilities created by Chinese political development and by
Japanese ambition.
The existence and the resolute and intelligent facing of such
responsibilities are an inevitable and a wholesome aspect of national
discipline and experience. The American people have too easily evaded
them in the past, but in the future they cannot be evaded; and it is
better so. The irresponsible attitude of Americans in respect to their
national domestic problems may in part be traced to freedom from equally
grave international responsibilities. In truth, the work of internal
reconstruction and amelioration, so far from being opposed to that of
the vigorous assertion of a valid foreign policy, is really correlative
and supplementary thereto; and it is entirely possible that hereafter
the United States will be forced into the adoption of a really national
domestic policy because of the dangers and duties incurred through her
relations with foreign countries.
The increasingly strenuous nature of international competition and the
constantly higher standards of international economic, technical, and
political efficiency prescribe a constantly improving domestic political
and economic organization. The geographical isolation which affords the
United States its military security against foreign attack should not
blind Americans to the merely comparative nature of their isolation. The
growth of modern sea power and the vast sweep of modern national
political interests have at once diminished their security, and
multiplied the possible sources of contact between American and European
interests. No matter how peaceably the United States is inclined, and no
matter how advantageously it is situated, the American nation is none
the less constantly threatened by political warfare, and constantly
engaged in industrial warfare. The American people can no more afford
than can a European people to neglect any necessary kind or source of
efficiency. Sooner than ever before in the history of the world do a
nation's sins and deficiencies find it out. Under modern conditions a
country which takes its responsibilities lightly, and will not submit to
the discipline necessary to political efficiency, does not gradually
decline, as Spain did in the seventeenth century. It usually goes down
with a crash, as France did in 1870, or as Russia has just done. The
effect of diminishing economic efficiency is not as suddenly and
dramatically exhibited; but it is no less inevitable and no less severe.
And the service which the very intensity of modern international
competition renders to a living nation arises precisely from the
searching character of the tests to which it subjects the several
national organizations. Austria-Hungary has been forced to assume a
secondary position in Europe, because the want of national cohesion and
vitality deprived her political advance of all momentum. Russia has
suddenly discovered that a corrupt bureaucracy is incapable of a
national organization as efficient as modern military and political
competition requires. It was desirable in the interest of the Austrians,
the Hungarians, and the Russians, that these weaknesses should be
exposed; and if the Christian states of the West ever become so
organized that their weaknesses are concealed until their consequences
become irremediable, Western civilization itself will be on the road to
decline. The Atlantic Ocean will, in the long run, fail to offer the
United States any security from the application of the same searching
standards. Its democratic institutions must be justified, not merely by
the prosperity which they bestow upon its own citizens, but by its
ability to meet the standards of efficiency imposed by other nations.
Its standing as a nation is determined precisely by its ability to
conquer and to hold a dignified and important place in the society of
nations.
The inference inevitably is that the isolation which has meant so much
to the United States, and still means so much, cannot persist in its
present form. Its geographical position will always have a profound
influence on the strategic situation of the United States in respect to
the European Powers. It should always emancipate the United States from
merely European complications. But, while the American nation should
never seek a positive place in an exclusively European system, Europe,
the United States, Japan, and China must all eventually take their
respective places in a world system. While such a system is still so
remote that it merely shows dimly through the obscurity of the future,
its manifest desirability brings with it certain definite but contingent
obligations in addition to the general obligation of comprehensive and
thorough-going national efficiency. It brings with it the obligation of
interfering under certain possible circumstances in what may at first
appear to be a purely European complication; and this specific
obligation would be the result of the general obligation of a democratic
nation to make its foreign policy serve the cause of international
peace. Hitherto, the American preference and desire for peace has
constituted the chief justification for its isolation. At some future
time the same purpose, just in so far as it is sincere and rational, may
demand intervention. The American responsibility in this respect is
similar to that of any peace-preferring European Power. If it wants
peace, it must be spiritually and physically prepared to fight for it.
Peace will prevail in international relations, just as order prevails
within a nation, because of the righteous use of superior force--because
the power which makes for pacific organization is stronger than the
power which makes for a warlike organization. It looks as if at some
future time the power of the United States might well be sufficient,
when thrown into the balance, to tip the scales in favor of a
comparatively pacific settlement of international complications. Under
such conditions a policy of neutrality would be a policy of
irresponsibility and unwisdom.
The notion of American intervention in a European conflict, carrying
with it either the chance or the necessity of war, would at present be
received with pious horror by the great majority of Americans.
Non-interference in European affairs is conceived, not as a policy
dependent upon certain conditions, but as absolute law--derived from the
sacred writings. If the issue should be raised in the near future, the
American people would be certain to shirk it; and they would, perhaps,
have some reason for a failure to understand their obligation, because
the course of European political development has not as yet been such as
to raise the question in a decisive form. All one can say as to the
existing situation is that there are certain Powers which have very much
more to lose than they have to gain by war. These Powers are no longer
small states like Belgium, Switzerland, and Holland, but populous and
powerful states like Great Britain, Italy, and France. It may be one or
it may be many generations before the issue of a peaceful or a warlike
organization is decisively raised. When, if ever, it is decisively
raised, the system of public law, under which any organization would
have to take place, may not be one which the United States could accept.
But the point is that, whenever and however it is raised, the American
national leaders should confront it with a sound, well-informed, and
positive conception of the American national interest rather than a
negative and ignorant conception. And there is at least a fair chance
that such will be the case. The experience of the American people in
foreign affairs is only beginning, and during the next few generations
the growth of their traffic with Asia and Europe will afford them every
reason and every opportunity to ponder seriously the great international
problem of peace in its relation to the American national democratic
interest.
The idea which is most likely to lead them astray is the idea which
vitiates the Monroe Doctrine in its popular form,--the idea of some
essential incompatibility between Europeanism and Americanism. That idea
has given a sort of religious sanctity to the national tradition of
isolation; and it will survive its own utility because it flatters
American democratic vanity. But if such an idea should prevent the
American nation from contributing its influence to the establishment of
a peaceful system in Europe, America, and Asia, such a refusal would be
a decisive stop toward American democratic degeneracy. It would either
mean that the American nation preferred its apparently safe and easy
isolation to the dangers and complications which would inevitably attend
the final establishment of a just system of public law; or else it would
mean that the American people believed more in Americanism than they did
in democracy. A decent guarantee of international peace would be
precisely the political condition which would enable the European
nations to release the springs of democracy; and the Americanism which
was indifferent or suspicious of the spread of democracy in Europe would
incur and deserve the enmity of the European peoples. Such an attitude
would constitute a species of continental provincialism and chauvinism.
Hence there is no shibboleth that patriotic Americans should fight more
tenaciously and more fiercely than of America for the Americans, and
Europe for the Europeans. To make Pan-Americanism merely a matter of
geography is to deprive it of all serious meaning. Pan-Slavism or
Pan-Germanism, based upon a racial bond, would be a far more significant
political idea. The only possible foundation of Pan-Americanism is an
ideal democratic purpose--which, when translated into terms of
international relations, demands, in the first place, the establishment
of a pacific system of public law in the two Americas, and in the second
place, an alliance with the pacific European Powers, just in so far as a
similar system has become in that continent one of the possibilities of
practical politics.