_August, 1890._
Indications are not wanting of an approaching change in the thoughts
and policy of Americans as to their relations with the world outside
their own borders. For the past quarter of a century, the predominant
idea, which has asserted itself successfully at the polls and shaped
the course of the government, has been to preserve the home market for
the home industries. The employer and the workman alike have been
taught to look at the various economical measures proposed from this
point of view, to regard with hostility any step favoring the intrusion
of the foreign producer upon their own domain, and rather to demand
increasingly rigorous measures of exclusion than to acquiesce in any
loosening of the chain that binds the consumer to them. The inevitable
consequence has followed, as in all cases when the mind or the eye is
exclusively fixed in one direction, that the danger of loss or the
prospect of advantage in another quarter has been overlooked; and
although the abounding resources of the country have maintained the
exports at a high figure, this flattering result has been due more to
the superabundant bounty of Nature than to the demand of other nations
for our protected manufactures.
For nearly the lifetime of a generation, therefore, American industries
have been thus protected, until the practice has assumed the force of a
tradition, and is clothed in the mail of conservatism. In their mutual
relations, these industries resemble the activities of a modern
ironclad that has heavy armor, but inferior engines and guns; mighty
for defence, weak for offence. Within, the home market is secured; but
outside, beyond the broad seas, there are the markets of the world,
that can be entered and controlled only by a vigorous contest, to which
the habit of trusting to protection by statute does not conduce.
At bottom, however, the temperament of the American people is
essentially alien to such a sluggish attitude. Independently of all
bias for or against protection, it is safe to predict that, when the
opportunities for gain abroad are understood, the course of American
enterprise will cleave a channel by which to reach them. Viewed
broadly, it is a most welcome as well as significant fact that a
prominent and influential advocate of protection, a leader of the party
committed to its support, a keen reader of the signs of the times and
of the drift of opinion, has identified himself with a line of policy
which looks to nothing less than such modifications of the tariff as
may expand the commerce of the United States to all quarters of the
globe. Men of all parties can unite on the words of Mr. Blaine, as
reported in a recent speech: "It is not an ambitious destiny for so
great a country as ours to manufacture only what we can consume, or
produce only what we can eat." In face of this utterance of so shrewd
and able a public man, even the extreme character of the recent tariff
legislation seems but a sign of the coming change, and brings to mind
that famous Continental System, of which our own is the analogue, to
support which Napoleon added legion to legion and enterprise to
enterprise, till the fabric of the Empire itself crashed beneath the
weight.
The interesting and significant feature of this changing attitude is
the turning of the eyes outward, instead of inward only, to seek the
welfare of the country. To affirm the importance of distant markets,
and the relation to them of our own immense powers of production,
implies logically the recognition of the link that joins the products
and the markets,--that is, the carrying trade; the three together
constituting that chain of maritime power to which Great Britain owes
her wealth and greatness. Further, is it too much to say that, as two
of these links, the shipping and the markets, are exterior to our own
borders, the acknowledgment of them carries with it a view of the
relations of the United States to the world radically distinct from the
simple idea of self-sufficingness? We shall not follow far this line of
thought before there will dawn the realization of America's unique
position, facing the older worlds of the East and West, her shores
washed by the oceans which touch the one or the other, but which are
common to her alone.
Coincident with these signs of change in our own policy there is a
restlessness in the world at large which is deeply significant, if not
ominous. It is beside our purpose to dwell upon the internal state of
Europe, whence, if disturbances arise, the effect upon us may be but
partial and indirect. But the great seaboard powers there do not stand
on guard against their continental rivals only; they cherish also
aspirations for commercial extension, for colonies, and for influence
in distant regions, which may bring, and, even under our present
contracted policy, already have brought them into collision with
ourselves. The incident of the Samoa Islands, trivial apparently, was
nevertheless eminently suggestive of European ambitions. America then
roused from sleep as to interests closely concerning her future. At
this moment internal troubles are imminent in the Sandwich Islands,
where it should be our fixed determination to allow no foreign
influence to equal our own. All over the world German commercial and
colonial push is coming into collision with other nations: witness the
affair of the Caroline Islands with Spain; the partition of New Guinea
with England; the yet more recent negotiation between these two powers
concerning their share in Africa, viewed with deep distrust and
jealousy by France; the Samoa affair; the conflict between German
control and American interests in the islands of the western Pacific;
and the alleged progress of German influence in Central and South
America. It is noteworthy that, while these various contentions are
sustained with the aggressive military spirit characteristic of the
German Empire, they are credibly said to arise from the national temper
more than from the deliberate policy of the government, which in this
matter does not lead, but follows, the feeling of the people,--a
condition much more formidable.
There is no sound reason for believing that the world has passed into a
period of assured peace outside the limits of Europe. Unsettled
political conditions, such as exist in Haiti, Central America, and many
of the Pacific islands, especially the Hawaiian group, when combined
with great military or commercial importance as is the case with most
of these positions, involve, now as always, dangerous germs of quarrel,
against which it is prudent at least to be prepared. Undoubtedly, the
general temper of nations is more averse from war than it was of old.
If no less selfish and grasping than our predecessors, we feel more
dislike to the discomforts and sufferings attendant upon a breach of
peace; but to retain that highly valued repose and the undisturbed
enjoyment of the returns of commerce, it is necessary to argue upon
somewhat equal terms of strength with an adversary. It is the
preparedness of the enemy, and not acquiescence in the existing state
of things, that now holds back the armies of Europe.
On the other hand, neither the sanctions of international law nor the
justice of a cause can be depended upon for a fair settlement of
differences, when they come into conflict with a strong political
necessity on the one side opposed to comparative weakness on the other.
In our still-pending dispute over the seal-fishing of Bering Sea,
whatever may be thought of the strength of our argument, in view of
generally admitted principles of international law, it is beyond doubt
that our contention is reasonable, just, and in the interest of the
world at large. But in the attempt to enforce it we have come into
collision not only with national susceptibilities as to the honor of
the flag, which we ourselves very strongly share, but also with a state
governed by a powerful necessity, and exceedingly strong where we are
particularly weak and exposed. Not only has Great Britain a mighty navy
and we a long defenceless seacoast, but it is a great commercial and
political advantage to her that her larger colonies, and above all
Canada, should feel that the power of the mother country is something
which they need, and upon which they can count. The dispute is between
the United States and Canada, not the United States and Great Britain;
but it has been ably used by the latter to promote the solidarity of
sympathy between herself and her colony. With the mother country alone
an equitable arrangement, conducive to well-understood mutual
interests, could be reached readily; but the purely local and
peculiarly selfish wishes of Canadian fishermen dictate the policy of
Great Britain, because Canada is the most important link uniting her to
her colonies and maritime interests in the Pacific. In case of a
European war, it is possible that the British navy will not be able to
hold open the route through the Mediterranean to the East; but having a
strong naval station at Halifax, and another at Esquimalt, on the
Pacific, the two connected by the Canadian Pacific Railroad, England
possesses an alternate line of communication far less exposed to
maritime aggression than the former, or than the third route by the
Cape of Good Hope, as well as two bases essential to the service of her
commerce, or other naval operations, in the North Atlantic and the
Pacific. Whatever arrangement of this question is finally reached, the
fruit of Lord Salisbury's attitude scarcely can fail to be a
strengthening of the sentiments of attachment to, and reliance upon,
the mother country, not only in Canada, but in the other great
colonies. These feelings of attachment and mutual dependence supply the
living spirit, without which the nascent schemes for Imperial
Federation are but dead mechanical contrivances; nor are they without
influence upon such generally unsentimental considerations as those of
buying and selling, and the course of trade.
This dispute, seemingly paltry yet really serious, sudden in its
appearance and dependent for its issue upon other considerations than
its own merits, may serve to convince us of many latent and yet
unforeseen dangers to the peace of the western hemisphere, attendant
upon the opening of a canal through the Central American Isthmus. In a
general way, it is evident enough that this canal, by modifying the
direction of trade routes, will induce a great increase of commercial
activity and carrying trade throughout the Caribbean Sea; and that this
now comparatively deserted nook of the ocean will become, like the Red
Sea, a great thoroughfare of shipping, and will attract, as never
before in our day, the interest and ambition of maritime nations. Every
position in that sea will have enhanced commercial and military value,
and the canal itself will become a strategic centre of the most vital
importance. Like the Canadian Pacific Railroad, it will be a link
between the two oceans; but, unlike it, the use, unless most carefully
guarded by treaties, will belong wholly to the belligerent which
controls the sea by its naval power. In case of war, the United States
will unquestionably command the Canadian Railroad, despite the
deterrent force of operations by the hostile navy upon our seaboard;
but no less unquestionably will she be impotent, as against any of
the great maritime powers, to control the Central American canal.
Militarily speaking, and having reference to European complications
only, the piercing of the Isthmus is nothing but a disaster to the
United States, in the present state of her military and naval
preparation. It is especially dangerous to the Pacific coast; but the
increased exposure of one part of our seaboard reacts unfavorably upon
the whole military situation.
Despite a certain great original superiority conferred by our
geographical nearness and immense resources,--due, in other words, to
our natural advantages, and not to our intelligent preparations,--the
United States is wofully unready, not only in fact but in purpose, to
assert in the Caribbean and Central America a weight of influence
proportioned to the extent of her interests. We have not the navy, and,
what is worse, we are not willing to have the navy, that will weigh
seriously in any disputes with those nations whose interests will
conflict there with our own. We have not, and we are not anxious to
provide, the defence of the seaboard which will leave the navy free for
its work at sea. We have not, but many other powers have, positions,
either within or on the borders of the Caribbean, which not only
possess great natural advantages for the control of that sea, but have
received and are receiving that artificial strength of fortification
and armament which will make them practically inexpugnable. On the
contrary, we have not on the Gulf of Mexico even the beginning of a
navy yard which could serve as the base of our operations. Let me not
be misunderstood. I am not regretting that we have not the means to
meet on terms of equality the great navies of the Old World. I
recognize, what few at least say, that, despite its great surplus
revenue, this country is poor in proportion to its length of seaboard
and its exposed points. That which I deplore, and which is a sober,
just, and reasonable cause of deep national concern, is that the nation
neither has nor cares to have its sea frontier so defended, and its
navy of such power, as shall suffice, with the advantages of our
position, to weigh seriously when inevitable discussions arise,--such
as we have recently had about Samoa and Bering Sea, and which may at
any moment come up about the Caribbean Sea or the canal. Is the United
States, for instance, prepared to allow Germany to acquire the Dutch
stronghold of Curaçao, fronting the Atlantic outlet of both the
proposed canals of Panama and Nicaragua? Is she prepared to acquiesce
in any foreign power purchasing from Haiti a naval station on the
Windward Passage, through which pass our steamer routes to the Isthmus?
Would she acquiesce in a foreign protectorate over the Sandwich
Islands, that great central station of the Pacific, equidistant from
San Francisco, Samoa, and the Marquesas, and an important post on our
lines of communication with both Australia and China? Or will it be
maintained that any one of these questions, supposing it to arise, is
so exclusively one-sided, the arguments of policy and right so
exclusively with us, that the other party will at once yield his eager
wish, and gracefully withdraw? Was it so at Samoa? Is it so as regards
Bering Sea? The motto seen on so many ancient cannon, _Ultima ratio
regum_, is not without its message to republics.
It is perfectly reasonable and legitimate, in estimating our needs of
military preparation, to take into account the remoteness of the chief
naval and military nations from our shores, and the consequent
difficulty of maintaining operations at such a distance. It is equally
proper, in framing our policy, to consider the jealousies of the
European family of states, and their consequent unwillingness to incur
the enmity of a people so strong as ourselves; their dread of our
revenge in the future, as well as their inability to detach more than a
certain part of their forces to our shores without losing much of their
own weight in the councils of Europe. In truth, a careful determination
of the force that Great Britain or France could probably spare for
operations against our coasts, if the latter were suitably defended,
without weakening their European position or unduly exposing their
colonies and commerce, is the starting-point from which to calculate
the strength of our own navy. If the latter be superior to the force
that thus can be sent against it, and the coast be so defended as to
leave the navy free to strike where it will, we can maintain our
rights; not merely the rights which international law concedes, and
which the moral sense of nations now supports, but also those equally
real rights which, though not conferred by law, depend upon a clear
preponderance of interest, upon obviously necessary policy, upon
self-preservation, either total or partial. Were we so situated now in
respect of military strength, we could secure our perfectly just claim
as to the seal fisheries; not by seizing foreign ships on the open sea,
but by the evident fact that, our cities being protected from maritime
attack, our position and superior population lay open the Canadian
Pacific, as well as the frontier of the Dominion, to do with as we
please. Diplomats do not flourish such disagreeable truths in each
other's faces; they look for a _modus vivendi_, and find it.
While, therefore, the advantages of our own position in the western
hemisphere, and the disadvantages under which the operations of a
European state would labor, are undeniable and just elements in the
calculations of the statesman, it is folly to look upon them as
sufficient alone for our security. Much more needs to be cast into the
scale that it may incline in favor of our strength. They are mere
defensive factors, and partial at that. Though distant, our shores can
be reached; being defenceless, they can detain but a short time a force
sent against them. With a probability of three months' peace in Europe,
no maritime power would fear to support its demands by a number of
ships with which it would be loath indeed to part for a year.
Yet, were our sea frontier as strong as it now is weak, passive
self-defence, whether in trade or war, would be but a poor policy, so
long as this world continues to be one of struggle and vicissitude. All
around us now is strife; "the struggle of life," "the race of life,"
are phrases so familiar that we do not feel their significance till we
stop to think about them. Everywhere nation is arrayed against nation;
our own no less than others. What is our protective system but an
organized warfare? In carrying it on, it is true, we have only to use
certain procedures which all states now concede to be a legal exercise
of the national power, even though injurious to themselves. It is
lawful, they say, to do what we will with our own. Are our people,
however, so unaggressive that they are likely not to want their own way
in matters where their interests turn on points of disputed right, or
so little sensitive as to submit quietly to encroachment by others, in
quarters where they long have considered their own influence should
prevail?
Our self-imposed isolation in the matter of markets, and the decline of
our shipping interest in the last thirty years, have coincided
singularly with an actual remoteness of this continent from the life of
the rest of the world. The writer has before him a map of the North and
South Atlantic oceans, showing the direction of the principal trade
routes and the proportion of tonnage passing over each; and it is
curious to note what deserted regions, comparatively, are the Gulf of
Mexico, the Caribbean Sea, and the adjoining countries and islands. A
broad band stretches from our northern Atlantic coast to the English
Channel; another as broad from the British Islands to the East, through
the Mediterranean and Red Sea, overflowing the borders of the latter in
order to express the volume of trade. Around either cape--Good Hope and
Horn--pass strips of about one-fourth this width, joining near the
equator, midway between Africa and South America. From the West Indies
issues a thread, indicating the present commerce of Great Britain with
a region which once, in the Napoleonic wars, embraced one-fourth of the
whole trade of the Empire. The significance is unmistakable: Europe has
now little mercantile interest in the Caribbean Sea.
When the Isthmus is pierced, this isolation will pass away, and with it
the indifference of foreign nations. From wheresoever they come and
whithersoever they afterward go, all ships that use the canal will pass
through the Caribbean. Whatever the effect produced upon the prosperity
of the adjacent continent and islands by the thousand wants attendant
upon maritime activity, around such a focus of trade will centre large
commercial and political interests. To protect and develop its own,
each nation will seek points of support and means of influence in a
quarter where the United States always has been jealously sensitive to
the intrusion of European powers. The precise value of the Monroe
doctrine is understood very loosely by most Americans, but the effect
of the familiar phrase has been to develop a national sensitiveness,
which is a more frequent cause of war than material interests; and over
disputes caused by such feelings there will preside none of the calming
influence due to the moral authority of international law, with its
recognized principles, for the points in dispute will be of policy, of
interest, not of conceded right. Already France and Great Britain are
giving to ports held by them a degree of artificial strength uncalled
for by their present importance. They look to the near future. Among
the islands and on the mainland there are many positions of great
importance, held now by weak or unstable states. Is the United States
willing to see them sold to a powerful rival? But what right will she
invoke against the transfer? She can allege but one,--that of her
reasonable policy supported by her might.
Whether they will or no, Americans must now begin to look outward. The
growing production of the country demands it. An increasing volume of
public sentiment demands it. The position of the United States, between
the two Old Worlds and the two great oceans, makes the same claim,
which will soon be strengthened by the creation of the new link joining
the Atlantic and Pacific. The tendency will be maintained and increased
by the growth of the European colonies in the Pacific, by the advancing
civilization of Japan, and by the rapid peopling of our Pacific States
with men who have all the aggressive spirit of the advanced line of
national progress. Nowhere does a vigorous foreign policy find more
favor than among the people west of the Rocky Mountains.
It has been said that, in our present state of unpreparedness, a
trans-isthmian canal will be a military disaster to the United States,
and especially to the Pacific coast. When the canal is finished, the
Atlantic seaboard will be neither more nor less exposed than it now is;
it will merely share with the country at large the increased danger of
foreign complications with inadequate means to meet them. The danger of
the Pacific coast will be greater by so much as the way between it and
Europe is shortened through a passage which the stronger maritime power
can control. The danger will lie not merely in the greater facility for
despatching a hostile squadron from Europe, but also in the fact that a
more powerful fleet than formerly can be maintained on that coast by a
European power, because it can be called home so much more promptly in
case of need. The greatest weakness of the Pacific ports, however, if
wisely met by our government, will go far to insure our naval
superiority there. The two chief centres, San Francisco and Puget
Sound, owing to the width and the great depth of the entrances, cannot
be effectively protected by torpedoes; and consequently, as fleets can
always pass batteries through an unobstructed channel, they cannot
obtain perfect security by means of fortifications only. Valuable as
such works will be to them, they must be further garrisoned by
coast-defence ships, whose part in repelling an enemy will be
co-ordinated with that of the batteries. The sphere of action of such
ships should not be permitted to extend far beyond the port to which
they are allotted, and of whose defence they form an essential part;
but within that sweep they will always be a powerful reinforcement to
the sea-going navy, when the strategic conditions of a war cause
hostilities to centre around their port. By sacrificing power to go
long distances, the coast-defence ship gains proportionate weight of
armor and guns; that is, of defensive and offensive strength. It
therefore adds an element of unique value to the fleet with which it
for a time acts. No foreign states, except Great Britain, have ports so
near our Pacific coast as to bring it within the radius of action of
their coast-defence ships; and it is very doubtful whether even Great
Britain will put such ships at Vancouver Island, the chief value of
which will be lost to her when the Canadian Pacific is severed,--a blow
always in the power of this country. It is upon our Atlantic seaboard
that the mistress of Halifax, of Bermuda, and of Jamaica will now
defend Vancouver and the Canadian Pacific. In the present state of our
seaboard defence she can do so absolutely. What is all Canada compared
with our exposed great cities? Even were the coast fortified, she still
could do so, if our navy be no stronger than is designed as yet. What
harm can we do Canada proportionate to the injury we should suffer by
the interruption of our coasting trade, and by a blockade of Boston,
New York, the Delaware, and the Chesapeake? Such a blockade Great
Britain certainly could make technically efficient, under the somewhat
loose definitions of international law. Neutrals would accept it as
such.
The military needs of the Pacific States, as well as their supreme
importance to the whole country, are yet a matter of the future, but of
a future so near that provision should begin immediately. To weigh
their importance, consider what influence in the Pacific would be
attributed to a nation comprising only the States of Washington,
Oregon, and California, when filled with such men as now people them
and still are pouring in, and which controlled such maritime centres as
San Francisco, Puget Sound, and the Columbia River. Can it be counted
less because they are bound by the ties of blood and close political
union to the great communities of the East? But such influence, to work
without jar and friction, requires underlying military readiness, like
the proverbial iron hand under the velvet glove. To provide this, three
things are needful: First, protection of the chief harbors, by
fortifications and coast-defence ships, which gives defensive strength,
provides security to the community within, and supplies the bases
necessary to all military operations. Secondly, naval force, the arm of
offensive power, which alone enables a country to extend its influence
outward. Thirdly, it should be an inviolable resolution of our national
policy, that no foreign state should henceforth acquire a coaling
position within three thousand miles of San Francisco,--a distance
which includes the Hawaiian and Galapagos islands and the coast of
Central America. For fuel is the life of modern naval war; it is the
food of the ship; without it the modern monsters of the deep die of
inanition. Around it, therefore, cluster some of the most important
considerations of naval strategy. In the Caribbean and in the Atlantic
we are confronted with many a foreign coal depot, bidding us stand to
our arms, even as Carthage bade Rome; but let us not acquiesce in an
addition to our dangers, a further diversion of our strength, by being
forestalled in the North Pacific.
In conclusion, while Great Britain is undoubtedly the most formidable
of our possible enemies, both by her great navy and by the strong
positions she holds near our coasts, it must be added that a cordial
understanding with that country is one of the first of our external
interests. Both nations doubtless, and properly, seek their own
advantage; but both, also, are controlled by a sense of law and
justice, drawn from the same sources, and deep-rooted in their
instincts. Whatever temporary aberration may occur, a return to mutual
standards of right will certainly follow. Formal alliance between the
two is out of the question, but a cordial recognition of the similarity
of character and ideas will give birth to sympathy, which in turn will
facilitate a co-operation beneficial to both; for if sentimentality is
weak, sentiment is strong.
[Illustration: THE PACIFIC OCEAN]