Uncle Sam Abroad

Part 7

Chapter 73,971 wordsPublic domain

With the present system of recruiting the diplomatic service the most essential point is to lodge the testing power in the hands of capable and incorruptible men, so that those who are “appointed for examination” will not necessarily pass because of the influence which supports them.

I will now leave the subject with you, merely remarking in closing that diplomacy, especially American diplomacy, which lies outside of and beyond our present theme, is of fascinating interest and will well repay careful study. Our diplomatic history is brief, but it is glorious, chiefly because it has made for righteousness and peace, not to ourselves only but to all the world.

* * * * *

“Professor, will you kindly give the remainder of the articles of the Congress of Vienna”?

“Certainly. Besides the first and the last which have already been given, they are as follows:

“Art. II. Ambassadors, legates, or nuncios only have the representative character; (that is, can represent the person of the sovereign).

“Art. III. Diplomatic agents on an extraordinary mission have not, on that account, any superiority of rank; (e. g., our commissioners at the Hague conference would not for that reason outrank our diplomatic representative there, supposing the latter not to be a commissioner).

“Art. IV. Diplomatic officers shall take precedence in their respective classes according to the date of the official notification of their arrival. The present regulation shall not cause any innovation with regard to the representative of the Pope.

“Art. V. A uniform mode shall be determined in each state for the reception of diplomatic agents of each class.

“Art. VI. Relations of consanguinity or of family alliance between courts confer no precedence on their diplomatic agents. The same rule applies also to political alliances.

“Art. VII. In acts or treaties between several powers which grant alternate precedence, the order which is to be observed in the signatures shall be decided by lot between the ministers.”

Q. “Are these the only international rules concerning diplomats”?

A. “They are the only ones given in the Diplomatic and Consular Register”.

Q. “Are they universally accepted”?

A. “By all except Turkey, which recognizes but three grades—ambassadors, ministers and chargés d’affaires”.

Q. “Suppose we send a diplomat of the second rank to any country: have we a right to receive one of the same grade in return”?

A. “Certainly, and no more. Italy, however, sends us an ambassador, while our representative to Italy is a minister”.

Q. “Professor, you will allow me to disagree with you upon the propriety of wearing a uniform”?

A. “Certainly, what have you to say”?

Q. “Well, nothing new; it is only that as a people we have taken a wise stand in favor of simplicity as opposed to meaningless conventionalities, and that it should characterize all our official relations with foreign powers, otherwise we would seem to compromise our position”.

A. “I’ll admit,” said the Professor, “that yours is the view ordinarily taken and officially adopted in our country. But I still maintain that it is a wrong view because it is founded upon a wrong principle, namely that ‘the rule should emanate from home’. Why, suppose you go to visit a neighbor and you find that the rules of his household are somewhat unlike your own: would you not as far as possible try to conform to them? Of course you would; and the complaisance that is to be expected between neighbors is a duty as between ambassadors, because it is their business to remove friction, not to create it. Oh, well, these are trifles and need not be dwelt upon were it not that they are conspicuous trifles.

“But the mention of these matters of etiquette reminds me of a suggestion by Schuyler, to the effect that a bureau of ceremonies should be added to the State Department—just as in Paris there is a Service du Protocol—both to facilitate its correspondence and to serve as an intermediary between the Department and foreign diplomats in Washington. There are many reasons—small in themselves, but rather weighty taken together, why this suggestion is worth heeding. The Master of Ceremonies plays a very important as well as a conspicuous part in nearly every capital except Washington; and perhaps he is all the more necessary with us because we have so little ceremony”.

After dismission a group of ladies was observed in earnest conversation waiting for a word with the Professor, who soon advanced with: “Do you wish to speak to me”?

“Oh, we were just wondering”, said one of them, “why women wouldn’t make good ambassadors”.

“They do”, said the Professor, “and excellent ones, too, for women are generally diplomats both by nature and training”.

“I never heard of one’s being appointed”.

“No, it is always her husband that is appointed; but this is dangerous ground. It is a fact well known in the service that a discreet wife can almost double her husband’s efficiency. In the first place she hears as much gossip as he does—as much, I say—and if she can keep it, why that is the best way that a diplomat can learn what is going on. But aside from court gossip, a great deal of an ambassador’s influence depends upon his position in society and this in turn depends very much upon the kind of wife he has. An indiscreet wife, one who is over fond of gossip, or under fond of society, might be a positive disqualification for the best kind of ambassador. It should go without saying that the wife should be patriotic; only sometimes diplomats will marry abroad. On this point Schuyler says that Bismarck always insisted that German diplomats should marry German wives. Women are very important social factors at every capital, and even sovereigns find that they are to be reckoned with. A good story is told by Schuyler which illustrates this fact and which shows at the same time what diplomacy can do in small things. I give it as nearly as I recall in his words:

“The court of Vienna is bound by very strict rules of etiquette, which not even the Emperor feels at liberty to overstep. And the society of Vienna has adopted still stricter ones. In order for an Austrian lady to be able to appear at court, she must show at least four generations of nobility. It is said that some years ago when the first bourgeois ministers were appointed in Austria, while they were officially invited to a court ball, their wives were omitted. The ladies were indignant and brought a sufficient pressure to bear upon the husbands to induce them to resign their offices if their wives were not invited to the ball. The Emperor was in a dilemma, for he could not dispense with such useful ministers, neither could he override the rules of court etiquette. He adopted, however, a very simple expedient—he ennobled the long-deceased great-grandfathers of the ladies in question, which thus gave them the personal right to appear”.

“Have diplomats nothing better to do than simply to get along peaceably with each other”?

“It must be confessed that in spite of the grand part they are expected to play upon occasion, a large share of their time and attention is devoted to the art of being agreeable—not a mean art in its way, though it demands attention to trifles after a fashion that would be exasperating to some minds.”

“Then I understand that it is in this exasperating art, the minor tactics of diplomacy, that women have the credit of excelling”?

“It is in this that they certainly do excel; and indeed in major tactics or world politics one need not ask for a better diplomat for her day and her nation than ‘Good Queen Bess’, not to mention other illustrious examples”.

“Well”, said one of the ladies, as they turned to go, “since to be an ambassador a woman must either be born one or marry one, why we might as well settle down to minor tactics where we are; so have a care, Professor, for we may not have learned the art of being agreeable”.

LECTURE V

UNCLE SAM AND EXPANSION.

Uncle Sam has lately gone abroad after an entirely new fashion—new at least to him.

He went to Hawaii only after repeated and urgent invitation; hesitating because he thought it was against his principles.

He went to Cuba to help the people to get rid of their rubbish.

He went to Porto Rico because he thought that he was needed.

He went to the Philippines on a business trip, and is there yet. He will probably make up his mind to stay there though he is still halting a little. In less than a year he will have decided, and in the meantime he will do some hard thinking about it, just as he has been doing since May 1, 1898.

It is to this problem that we will now address ourselves—for it is still a problem with some—not to questions of method in administration, which should be determined by experience, but to the ethical, political and practical considerations involved in the term expansion, or if you please, imperialism.

First of all, the occupation of the Philippines by the United States is regarded by the average American citizen as a moral question. “Is it right to extend our authority over the Philippines, even, if necessary, by force of arms”? This is the question we all have been asking ourselves, the question that the “anti-imperialists” have promptly answered in the negative, while the great majority of opinion seems to be slowly swinging in the opposite direction, in agreement with the present administration.

But the answer to this question, startling as it may seem, is that it is not primarily an ethical question, whatever ethical phases it may have. “What,” you ask, “do not all governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed?” Well, let us see about that; and in order to see clearly and dispassionately let us get outside of America as it were, so that we may look at this proposition from a convenient distance.

People sometimes make mistakes. Whole nations sometimes make the same mistake. Indeed, on a fundamental proposition a whole civilization during successive periods of history covering many centuries has been known to swing from one extreme to the other and backward again. Such movements are often likened to the swing of a mighty pendulum, or better still, to the rising and narrowing coils of a spiral.

Naturally, one of the subjects upon which men have thought the most and disagreed the most and therefore made the most mistakes is the relation of the individual to the state. Less than three centuries ago one of the fundamental maxims of government was that the individual exists for the state and not the state for the individual. This is one extreme. Up to the time of Rousseau there was no marked philosophical change upon this subject on the continent of Europe. With him and those after him began that marvelous reaction—that tidal wave of philosophic thought and popular conviction away from absolutism and in the direction of the rights of man. If this movement should reach its climax in the opposite extreme it would mean anarchy—and that is what it reached in the French Revolution.

It was but a few years before its climax, however, that our own Declaration of Independence was written, the writers whereof were thoroughly in sympathy with the movement toward the rights of man. Hence we hear in America the calm statement, “We believe that all men are by nature free and equal”, while in France we hear the frenzied cry, “Liberty! Equality! Fraternity!”

The individual has at last secured his long coveted freedom. But it is only to be confronted with a still greater question, namely: What is he to do with his freedom? How is he to use it?

Well, what has he done with it? In America, as elsewhere, notwithstanding his political creed, he has wisely decided that the insane must not enjoy either freedom or equality with other men. No more can criminals; no more do women. Why? If all have a right to these things, who dares take it away?

This brings us to a point beyond the statement of the Declaration, a point, however, that must have been in the minds of the writers, namely, that

SELF-GOVERNMENT IS NOT SO MUCH A RIGHT AS IT IS A CAPACITY.

Have you a right to vote, and if so where did you get it? You may answer these questions just as you please; but the fact is, if you go insane or commit a crime the government takes away your right to vote because of your incapacity. You are assumed to have the capacity and therefore the right unless it is proved to the contrary; but let it not be forgotten that the capacity is fundamental and antecedent to the right, otherwise our theory will always seem inconsistent with our practice.

And that is what mystifies so many of us just now. We have made no mistake in our practice, but we have made a mistake in trying to justify the practice by an unfounded theory, and it doesn’t work. We as a nation have simply been idealizing the rights of man, liberty and self-government, forgetting that these are all secondary to capacity, just as did the eighteenth century doctrinaires.

So far with the analogy. Now, can any one give a good, valid reason why the same conclusions would not apply to a community or tribe or race within a state which is held to be incapable—the Indians, for instance, or the emancipated slaves? Certainly not. Now, is there any ethical reason why the same conclusions would not apply to an incompetent nation? Certainly not. The difficulty to be encountered is a practical one, because, first, there is no international court to decide upon the capacity of a race to govern itself, and, second, there is no international power to act as guardian for incompetent or backward races.

How is it with the family of nations to-day? A few of them are forging ahead at a marvelous rate, a good many more are like Micawber’s wife, continually _in statu quo_, while others still are suffering a noticeable decline, and finally there are races or tribes which have never been organized into states or nations, and which if left to themselves probably never will be. And to what shall we liken this family of nations? It is like a settlement beyond the frontier of civilization, with no law above them except a neighborhood agreement—a settlement made up of a few progressive men, a number of “ne’er do weels”, several idiots and insane and a number of dissolutes. The best that one could hope for in such a situation would be for the progressive men to infuse some life and energy into the “ne’er do weels”, remove all destructive agencies from the hands of the idiots and insane and put the dissolutes under watch and ward. Instead, however, the state of things that we actually see is this: the dissolutes are rebellious, the idiots are idiots, the “ne’er do weels” are suspicious, and worst of all, the progressive men are jealous of each other. In the absence of cohesiveness and harmony in this settlement, one of these progressive men has shown a disposition sometimes domineering, sometimes kindly, but a disposition nevertheless to maintain law and order, and a fondness for having a hand in enforcing it, and that man is Mr. Anglo-Saxon. He never puts his hand to this business without calling down the imprecations of the whole neighborhood upon himself as a tyrant, and yet freedom, prosperity and progress go with him. He doesn’t believe much in passive goodness. He has learned the lesson of self-government and he proposes to teach it to his less progressive neighbors whether or no; and when they have once learned it they may stay under his protection or not, just as they please, and the significant fact is that they are not only glad to stay but to fight for him when they have once learned his idea of freedom.

A fanatic may say, “I prefer my own government, not because it is the best, but because it is mine”. That may well be as between two progressive nations, but as between a progressive and a retrograde or incompetent government, it is sheer fanaticism. It avails nothing in such a case to quote the words of Lincoln: “No man is good enough to govern another man against that other man’s consent”, for these words were uttered concerning human bondage which is by no means analogous to a loss of independence by a state. Canada has no political independence, technically, but are Canadians in bondage? Are the Australians, the Hindus, the Egyptians, in bondage?

No nation has a right to remain in the backwoods (pardon the homely expression). The facilities for travel and inter-communication are so vastly improved the “double coincidence of wants and possessions” has become so general, the bar of language, custom, religion and race is so rapidly disappearing—in a word, the nations of the earth are becoming such near neighbors to each other that each must be personally interested, so to speak, in the welfare of the others. If a man’s nearest neighbors are some miles distant, the way they get their living or govern their households may be of small interest to him; but let them move up to adjoining lots and it makes a world of difference whether their business is reputable, and whether their households are quiet and orderly.

No nation is safe when it remains in the backwoods. When two races, a more civilized and a less civilized, come into close quarters as neighbors the latter must improve or go to the wall. And this is not so much a moral as it is a physical question; for an area of land that will support one hunter will support a hundred farmers, and nature is economic in this as in every other matter. It is not so much that the weak must yield to the strong as it is that the ineffectual must give way to the effectual—just the ordinary law of evolution.

Like all natural laws it is merciless; and being a natural law it is neither to be condemned nor justified; yet again, like other natural laws, its rigor may and should be mitigated. In short, the superior race should regard the inferior much as a schoolmaster does an intractable youth, who must be dealt with kindly and patiently, admonished repeatedly and perhaps punished severely.

No nation has a right to remain in the backwoods. A country that shuts its eyes to progress in other lands, a people whose all-sufficient answer is, “What was good enough for our fathers is good enough for us”, a nation which stands for tyranny, for corruption, for instability, for retrogression, of any sort, has no one to blame but itself when the widening breach which separates it from advancing civilization is closed with a violence that destroys its identity.

An unstable government is a standing menace to all neighboring governments. It is the rottenness of Turkey, more than the cupidity of the powers, that constantly endangers the peace of Europe. It was the rottenness of Spanish colonial administration and not our own cupidity, that brought on the Spanish war. It is the turbulence of the South American republics rather than their weakness, that in spite of the protection of the Monroe doctrine may yet invite European intervention. The culpability of the incompetent powers is a theme we hear much less about than the “rapacity” of the “harpy powers”—and why? Because of that childish tendency to take the part of the “under dog”, no matter whose the fault.

It would seem a necessary conclusion, therefore, that whenever a people demonstrates its incapacity to learn self-government by its own unaided effort, or whenever from any cause its civilization is far in the rear of the times, that the best interests both of itself and of the rest of humanity demand that it be placed under a governmental pedagogue, at least until it attains its majority. And this is no less true though the people rebel and many lives be lost, provided that it means progress for the race—“the greatest good to the greatest number”. Who would claim that Egypt would be better off without the wise guidance of England, or who now counts the lives that were lost in India in the establishment of her beneficent reign?

Hence, not all governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed, for this sublime statement of the Declaration applies to those only who are fit for self-government. We hold it now as we always have held it, a governmental ideal which we mean to realize; for in practice we never have followed it in our dealings with the Indians, and we never made a greater mistake than in following it too literally in the days of “reconstruction”.

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.