Write an analysis of the following document (attached to this post)
– 300 minimum
– Use citations of the text.
12 The Imperial Era
The United States entered this contest shortly after achieving inde-
pendence (“playing the European Game,” as Mark Twain would acidly
observe). Having established national sovereignty, U.S. leaders would
seek to extend territorial reach over European colonies and prevent other
powers from challenging this expansion. As a result, U.S. relations with
Latin America during the nineteenth century represented a continuation
and culmination of European incursions into and struggles over the New
World that dated back to the late fifteenth century.
From the outset, in other words, the United States was an aspiring
imperial power. It entered the international arena as a relatively minor, al –
most insignificant actor; within a century the young nation became a for-
midable contender. The United States embarked on its imperial course
neither by impulse, miscalculation, or accident. Its behavior represented
long-term policy and national purpose. As historian William Appleman
Williams has observed, “Americans thought of themselves as an empire at
the outset of their national existence. . . . Having matured in an age of
empires as part of an empire, the colonists naturally saw themselves in the
same light once they joined issue with the mother country.” 1 In an ethica
l
sense, U.S . conduct was neither better nor worse than that of other ambi-
tious powers. All played by the same rules of the game.
Once engaged in this contest, the United States adapted its policy in
accordance with conditions and circumstances particular to the New
World. While European powers engaged primarily in colonization of
overseas possessions, the United States tended to rely, first, on territorial
acquisition and absorption, and, second, on the estaplishment and preser-
vation of informal spheres of influence. The means thus varied, but the
ends were much the same.
European Rivalry in the New World
European powers began to compete for control of the New World alm_ost
immediately after Christopher Columbus announced his earth-shattering
“discovery” in 1492. Protesting Spanish claims to total monopoly ov~r
the Americas, King Joao II of Portugal convinced the “Catholic kings” U1
1494 to modify the original ruling of Pope Alexander VI and accept the
Treaty ofTordesillas, which ceded to Portugal dominion over the easte~n
half of South America-much of present-day Brazil. Theoretically, Spall1
and Portugal thus possessed exclusive title to the newly found territo~ies.
According to the terms of papal endorsement, it was the religious obliga-
tion of Spain and Portugal to spread the Catholic gospel to the heathen.
So long as they fulfilled this missionary duty, Spain and Portugal would
have complete control of lands and peoples of the New World. Frorn
1580 to 1640, when Portugal fell under Spanish control, this claim be-
longed to Spain alone . . d
The Iberian monopoly did not last long. Protestant:J.sm took hol_
……… ….. H ,.,,_ h ….. .. , .. mn ,… h ….. f’ p,.. .. ..,……,p, -,c, ,, rP~n1t- nf t-hP R p,.fnrm~t-lAn -:1nrl it<: ~no-
The European Game
1
3
Catholic adherents saw no reason to respect the Treaty of Tordesillas or
any papal declaration. Seeking economic access to the riches of the New
World, merchants and buccaneers from rival European countries initiated
a thriving trade in contraband. According to then-prevailing mercantilist
theory, mo:eover, the goal of economic activity was to enhance the power
of the natl.on-state. The accumulation of power was to be measured
through th~ possession of precious bullion-that is, gold or silver. Mer-
cantilist policymakers thus sought to run a favorable balance of trade
with exports e~ceeding imports, since this would increase the storage of
coinage ?: bullion. (The emphasis on trade gave the doctrine its name .)
Mercantilist theory tended to assume that nations engaged in a “zero-
sum” game, with one state’s gain entailing a loss for another state. Dis-
c~ver! of the New _World gravely threatened prevailing power relations ,
smce It placed massive and unforeseen quantities of gold and silver at the
disposal of Spain and its crusading Catholic monarchs Charles I and
Philip II. Given the assumptions of the time, other powe;s had no choice
but to react.
. By the mid-si~teenth century England emerged as Spain’s principal
nval. Legendary ptrateers John Hawkins and Francis Drake made raids on
ports around the Car~bbean. Philip II decided to retaliate by invading En-
gl~d. f_rake_ roared mto the harbor of Cadiz and destroyed a number of
ships, smgemg the beard of the king of Spain,” and the English fleet
then crushed the Spanish armada in 1588. War extended beyond Philip’s
~ath and peace finally came in 1609, when the Netherlands were divided
In tw~: the north was set free from Spain and became Holland· the south
remame_d under Spanish control and is now Belgium . ‘
Th Spam:s setbacks in Europe were soon reflected in the New World.
The English settled at Virginia in 1607 and at Massachusetts in 1620.
C e Du~ch reached New York in 1612. The French began moving into En~: m the 1620s. More significantly, from the standpoint of the era,
llliddl ‘ French, and Dutch settlements appeared in the Antilles-in the
th De ofwh~t had been up to then a Spanish lake. In 1630 moreover
e Utch seized co tr 1 f th B .li ‘ ‘
sugar 1 . n ° ~ .. e raz1 an northeast-with its extensive
the P ~tat:J.ons-an acqmsltlon that for Holland vastly overshadowed
111~udr~ ase ~f M~nhattan Island a few years before. The Dutch re-
c m Brazil unt:1.l 1654.
tffec!:erhe late sev~nteenth century Europe was seeking to establish an
famil coun_terwe1ght to France. In 1700 Louis XIV’s efforts to impose
e Y
rd
at:1.ve on the Spanish throne prompted a coalition of three
a ~~Eng!and, Holland, and the Holy Roman Emperor-to respond
til 17~~ arat:1.on of war. The War of the Spanish Succession dragged on
• Y, d · At _the war’s end Austria gained control of Milan Naples
. ‘ an Belgmm; Philip V (Louis XIV’s nephew) was made’ King of
, Under th ti ul · h th
b e s P at:1.on t at e crowns of France and Spain would
. e held by the same individual; and England, the biggest win-
ed control nFr:;h-~1 .. — 1’T – • • ..C _ __ __ JI . , ,,
14 The Imperial Era
important-the commercial contract (asiento) for the African slave trade
with Spanish colonies in the New World. This lucrative privilege gave
Britain a secure foothold in Spanish America.
Competition for empire intensified throughout the eighteenth cen-
tury. A series of skirmishes stretched from 1739 to 1763 (with an uneasy
truce from 1748 to 1756) and comprised what has come to be known as
“the great war of the mid-eighteenth century.” The first part of the con-
test, usually known as the War of the Austrian Succession, ground to a
halt in 1748 when England and France reached agreement to restore the
status quo ante bellum. The second stage came with the Seven Years’
War, in which Britain and Prussia joined forces against the combined
strength of the Hapsburgs and Bourbons. This war had multiple fronts,
stretching from Europe to Canada to India. When the dust finally cleared
in 1763, the Treaty of Paris codified the results: Britain remained in India;
France ceded to Britain all French territory on the North American main-
land east of the Mississippi River; France retained its slave stations in
Africa plus the cash-producing Caribbean islands of Guadeloupe and
Martinique (leading one observer to exult, in classic confirmation of mer-
cantilist economic doctrine, “We may have lost Canada, but we have re-
tained Martinique!”); and Spain retained its North American holdings
west of the Mississippi and at the river mouth. The Seven Years’ War thus
achieved a new political and economic equilibrium. England replaced
France as the preeminent colonial power, a position she would extend and
consolidate through the pax britannica of the nineteenth century.
As England was celebrating its diplomatic triumph, Prime Minister
George Grenville took a series of steps to consolidate British rule in
North America and to improve imperial finances. His most notorious
measure was the Stamp Act, which in 1765 imposed taxes on all legal
documents, newspapers, pamphlets, and almanacs. Eventually, and in
many instances reluctantly, British colonists rose up in protest against
these impositions and against the monarchy. Proclaiming their indepen-
dence in 1776, they finally achieved sovereignty and recognition in 1783.
The emergence of their new nation would have fundamental and far-
reaching impacts upon the international arena.
Imperial Order: The Rules of the Game
Imperialism entailed the policy, practice, or advocacy of the extension of
control by a nation over the territory, inhabitants, and resources of areas
that lay outside the nation’s own boundaries. Typically, nations engaged in
imperialistic behavior for two basic reasons: first, to gain access to eco-
nomic benefits-such as land, labor, and minerals; and second, to increase
political strength and military capability-often through the improvement
of geopolitical position in relation to other contending powers. Almost al-
ways, the pursuit ofimperial advantage evoked elaborate ideological justifi-
r · ;m in fr th r r inns missi n f i n h-,f”nt1mr, m1in tn th
The European Game 15
civilizing mission of eighteenth-century France and the “white man’s bur-
den” that would be borne by nineteenth-century England.
As it evolved over time, imperialism spawned an informal but coher-
ent code of international rules. The keystone of this system was the idea
of a balance of power. First articulated by the Peace of Westphalia in
1648, this principle assumed that international politics would consist of
relations among nation-states. The ultimate purpose of a balance of
power was to prevent domination by any single European nation. In prac-
tice the principle led to a constantly shifting pattern of alliances and coali-
tions, as weaker nations often sought to achieve an appropriate balance by
combining their forces in opposition to the stronger ones. Alignments
would be based not on religion, ideology, culture, or values. They would
respond to momentary contingencies and power calculations.
Second, this international system supported the sovereignty of estab-
lished European nation-states and accepted the state as the primary actor
in the global arena. Indeed, the whole idea of a “balance” among nations
tended to assume and assure their individual survival. By definition, equi-
librium precluded the possibility of elimination or extinction. Of course
this stipulation applied only to recognized powers in Europe, not to other
parts of the world.
Third, and partly as a result of this understanding, European nations
focused much of their competitive energy on imperial expansion. Preser-
vation of a balance among metropolitan powers tended to limit the scale
and scope of wars within the European theater. During the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, battlegrounds shifted from the European conti-
nent itself toward the colonized areas. In effect, the extension of imperial
possessions provided nations with an opportunity to enhance their power
positions without having always to engage in direct hostilities with other
European states. Colonization created a “positive-sum” game, or so it
seemed at the time, a means of tilting the balance of power without up-
setting the system as a whole.
Fourth, imperial holdings became integral elements in the calculation
of the power balance. Especially under the mercantilist doctrines of the
period, the ultimate rationale for imperial possessions was to strengthen
the economic and political position of the metropolitan state. European
powers consequently went to considerable lengths to maintain monopo-
listic control over their dominions, from Spain’s elaborate complex of le-
galisms and regulations to England’s maritime enforcement of its pax bri-
tannica. The point was not only to maximize direct exploitation of the
dominions. It was to make sure that no other rival power would seize part
of the booty and in so doing revise the prevalent balance of power.
Various methods existed for the pursuit of imperialistic advantage.
One was the conquest and incorporation of territory, leading to effective
enlargement of the boundaries of the nation-state. After the Peace of
Westphalia most European powers tended to shy away from this method,
at least in reµ;ard to each other’s terrain, since it threatened to violate the
16 The Imperial Era
whole idea of a balance of power. And with regard to overseas territories,
the prospect of incorporation raised complex juridical and philosophical
questions about the relationship of colonial inhabitants to metropolitan
society. Even so, it became the policy of France to regard its imperial
possessions in Africa, Asia, and the New World as integral parts of the
nation-as departements d ,outre m er, in theoretical possession of the legal
rights and obligations pertaining to the provinces of France.
A second technique involved subjugation and colonization. Through
this method, imperial dominions attained special status as subordinate ap-
pendages to the metropolitan nation and , usually, to its central govern-
ment. While adding to the power of the metropole, colonization did not
lead to effective enlargement of national boundaries. Nor did it raise awk-
ward questions about the rights or roles of colonial subjects. For such rea-
sons this approach was favored by most European competitors in the im-
perial contest. The British empire and its contemporary remnants ( the
so-called Commonwealth) offer perhaps the most notable and elaborate
example of this option.
A third alternative entailed the creation of a “sphere of interest,” or
sphere of influence, over which an imperial power would exert de facto
hegemony through informal means. This could stem from economic
domination or, in politics, the installation of client regimes or protec-
torates. One advantage of this approach was economy of effort: it did not
entail the enormous expenditures of military, administrative, and financial
resources that formal colonies required. (Indeed, there now exists sub-
stantial doubt about the net profitability of colonial possessions for Euro-
pean powers.) A central disadvantage was, of course, insecurity: precisely
because they were informal , spheres of influence were subject to intrusion
by rival powers. Stability could prevail only if major powers agreed to
recognize each other’s spheres of domination . Such was the case in
nineteenth-century Africa, where European rivals agreed to a “partition-
ing” of the continent, and to a lesser extent in turn-of-the-century China,
where European nations attempted to carve out exclusive spheres ofinflu-
ence . It also applied to locations where the ever-resourceful British con-
structed what have come to be known as “informal empires. “
2
Enter the United States
The newly independent United States joined the contest for imperial ex-
tension soon after achieving constitutional stability in the late 1780s. Two
schools of thought quickly emerged with regard to foreign policy. One,
championed by George Washington, held that the United States should
avoid “entangling alliances” with European powers and should separate
itself as much as possible from the Old World. The other, associated with
Alexander Hamilton, argued that the United States should actively take
advantage of European conflicts: if the new nation were to develop a
powerful navy, he wrote, “a price would be set not only upon our friend-
The European Game 17
hope ere long to become the Arbiter of Europe in America; and to be
able to incline the balance of European competitions in this part of the
world as our interest may dictate” (emphasis added). Despite these differ-
ences, however, U.S. policymakers were in full agreement on one funda-
mental premise: European influence in the Americas should be reduced
and restricted. It was this concern that directed their attention toward
Spanish America. As Rufus King said of South America in a letter to
Hamilton in 1799: “I am entirely convinced ifit [South America] and its
resources are not for us that they will speedily be against us.”
American statesmen employed several strategies to prevent this nega-
tive outcome . First was to insist, at least in the short run, that these
colonies remain in possession of Spain, which had the desirable quality of
being a weak and declining power. Spain presented no threat; France or
England, by contrast, would represent a powerful challenge. As a result,
the United States vigorously and consistently opposed the transfer of
Spanish dominions in the New World to any other European power.
Second, U.S . leaders would support campaigns for independence by
Spanish American colonies in the 1810s and 1820s. They reached this po-
sition after a substantial amount of controversy and debate . One concern
was that newly independent nations of Spanish America might forge
diplomatic and commercial ties with England or France. A second preoc-
cupation was that the resulting nations would be susceptible to instability,
authoritarianism, and, as a result, extrahemispheric intervention. Another
was that it would be politically difficult for the United States to take terri-
tory away from sister republics in the hemisphere. In the end, the United
States faced little practical choice-and concluded that Spanish American
independence would promote long-term national goals. As Thomas Jef-
ferson wrote in 1808, “We consider their interests and ours as the same,
and that the object of both must be to exclude all European influence
from this hemisphere .”
Third, U.S. policymakers sought to establish their own hegemony
within the region. Without the power to back up their statements, they
brazenly asserted that the continents of the Americas comprised a U.S .
sphere of interest-to the exclusion of European powers. As Secretary of
State John Quincy Adams declared, the United States was willing to leave
Great Britain in “indisputed enjoyment” of all her colonial possessions so
long as Britain would accept “every possibility of extension to our natural
dominion in North America, which she can have no solid interest to pre-
vent, until all possibility of her preventing it shall have vanished.” In a
similar vein, Jefferson insisted that Europe comprised “a separate division
of the globe,” while “America,” he contended, “has a hemisphere to it-
self. It must have a separate system of interest which must not be subordi-
nated to those of Europe. The insulated state in which nature has placed
the American continent should so far avail that no spark of war kindled in
the other quarters of the globe should be wafted across the wide oceans
which separate us from them.”
18 The Imperial Era
proclamation of the Monroe Doctrine in 1823. Partly aimed at czarist Rus- .
sia’s territorial claims in the American northwest, the doctrine asserted that
the American continents “are henceforth not to be considered as subject
for future colonization by any European power.” It did not condemn colo-
nization as a matter of principle; it inveighed only against colonization by
European powers in the Americas. Taking note of an apparent design by
the Holy Alliance to help Spain regain her colonies, President Monroe in
addition warned against reinstatement of monarchical rule:
We owe it, therefore, to candor, and to the amicable relations existing be-
tween the United States and those powers, to declare that we should con-
sider any attempt on their part to extend their political system to any portion
of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety. . . . We could not
view any interposition for the purpose of oppressing [ the newly independent
nations], or controlling in any other manner their destiny, by any European
power in any other light than as the manifestation of an unfriendly disposi-
tion toward the United States.
In one sense this statement declared the United States to be the guardian
of independence and democracy throughout the hemisphere. But in an-
other, more fundamental sense, it was an assertion of realpolitik. Not only
would the United States oppose colonization by Europe in America; it
would also oppose political alliances between newly independent nations
of Spanish America and European powers.
U.S. Imperialism I: Territorial Expansion
The first phase of U.S. imperialistic policy involved territorial acquisition
and absorption. Circumstances were propitious in the early nineteenth
century. England and France were distracted by internal strife and by con-
tinental wars. Spain was in a process of precipitous decline. New nations
in the hemisphere, especially in Spanish America, would be unable to
offer much resistance. As Thomas Jefferson prophesied as early as the
1780s, it would eventually become possible for the United States to take
over remnants of Spain’s once-formidable empire “peice by peice [sic].”
Pocketbook Diplomacy
The acquisition of Louisiana marked U.S. entry into the imperial contest.
In 1763 France lost its possessions west of the Mississippi to Spain-
fortunately for the United States, the weakest of the European powers. In
1795 the United States obtained commercial rights along the Mississippi
River. In 1800 Napoleon suddenly took title to Louisiana on behalf of
France. Thomas Jefferson expressed shock and dismay over this develop-
ment.3 “It completely reverses all the political relations of the U.S.,” he
declared. Shortly afterward Jefferson emphasized the importance of “one
sinp;le s ot” on earth-the port ofl’-kw o wh ·
The European Game 19
would necessarily become “our natural and habitual enemy.” The United
States and France were on a collision course.
England came to the rescue, at least indirectly, as British-French ten-
sions threatened to erupt in war. A beleaguered Napoleon decided to sell
off the Louisiana territory: better it go to the United States, he must have
calculated, than to the English. By the terms of the 1803 purchase arrange-
ment, the United States paid about $15 million in exchange for a massive
span ofland, one that not only included the present-day state of Louisiana
but that almost doubled the territorial size of the then United States.
Florida came next, through a combination of guile and force. In
1817 Secretary of State John Quincy Adams opened talks with the Span-
ish minister, don Luis de Onis, after which General Andrew Jackson
seized Spanish forts at St. Marks and Pensacola. Instead of reprimanding
Jackson, as one might have expected, Adams demanded reparations from
Spain to cover the cost of the military expedition-allegedly undertaken
against Indians whom the Spaniards could not control. Unable to obtain
diplomatic support from Great Britain, the king of Spain agreed in 1819
to cede “all the territories which belong to him situated to the eastward
of the Mississippi and known by the name of East and West Florida.” In
return the U.S. government would assume the claims of its citizens
against the Spanish government in the amount of $5 million. This money
was to be paid to American citizens, not to the Spanish government: tech-
nically speaking, the United States did not “purchase” Florida, as is often
said. In addition Spain renounced her claim to territory north of the
forty-second parallel from the Rockies to the Pacific, while the United
States gave up its claims to Texas. America’s renunciation of interest in
Texas did not, of course, endure the test of time.
England’s refusal to support Spanish claims in the New World re-
sulted from political calculations about the European theater. In the mid-
1820s, with French troops occupying parts of a much-weakened Spain,
British foreign minister George Canning began to worry about the possi-
bility that France might assume control of Spain’s holdings in the New
World. That would upset the balance of power. To prevent this outcome
he extended diplomatic recognition to the struggling republics of Spanish
America, a gesture that earned accolades and gratitude throughout the
continent. But Canning’s motive was less than charitable, as he immod-
estly declared in 1826: “Contemplating Spain, such as our ancestors had
known her, I resolved that if France had Spain, it should not be Spain
with the Indies. I called the New World into existence to redress the bal-
ance of the Old.” Rarely had the logic of the Imperial Era found such
pristine expression.
Military Conquest
In the 1820s Mexico won independence from Spain and jurisdiction over
· c;c; Qf v I wil rn :’i:’i (P ,:’i1im-
18 The Imperial Era
proclamation of the Monroe Doctrine in 1823. Partly aimed at czarist Rus-
sia’s territorial claims in the American northwest, the doctrine asserted that
the American continents “are henceforth not to be considered as subject
for future colonization by any European power.” It did not condemn cqlo-
nization as a matter of principle; it inveighed only against colonization by
European powers in the Americas. Taking note of an apparent design by
the Holy Alliance to help Spain regain her colonies, President Monroe in
addition warned against reinstatement of monarchical rule:
We owe it, therefore, to candor, and to the amicable relations existing be-
tween the United States and those powers, to declare that we should con-
sider any attempt on their part to extend their political system to any portion
of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety. . . . We could not
view any interposition for the purpose of oppressing [ the newly independent
nations], or controlling in any other manner their destiny, by any European
power in any other light than as the manifestation of an unfriendly disposi-
tion toward the United States .
In one sense this statement declared the United States to be the guardian
of independence and democracy throughout the hemisphere. But in an-
other, more fundamental sense, it was an assertion of realpolitik. Not only
would the United States oppose colonization by Europe in America; it
would also oppose political alliances between newly independent nations
of Spanish America and European powers.
U.S. Imperialism I: Territorial Expansion
The first phase of U .S. imperialistic policy involved territorial acquisition
and absorption . Circumstances were propitious in the early nineteenth
century. England and France were distracted by internal strife and by con-
tinental wars. Spain was in a process of precipitous decline. New nations
in the hemisphere, especially in Spanish America, would be unable to
offer much resistance. As Thomas Jefferson prophesied as early as the
1780s, it would eventually become possible for the United States to take
over remnants of Spain’s once-formidable empire “peice by peice [sic].”
Pocketbook Diplomacy
The acquisition of Louisiana marked U.S. entry into the imperial contest.
In 17 63 France lost its possessions west of the Mississippi to Spain-
fortunately for the United States, the weakest of the European powers. In
1795 the United States obtained commercial rights along the Mississippi
River. In 1800 Napoleon suddenly took title to Louisiana on behalf of
France. Thomas Jefferson expressed shock and dismay over this develop-
ment.3 “It completely reverses all the political relations of the U.S.,” he
declared. Shortly afterward Jefferson emphasized the importance of “one
rin1TJ., rnnt-” nn f’ ‘lrth ” .thf’ nnrt nf l\T,-m nrlf”lnr-thf’ nnrrPrrnr nf mhirh
The European Game 19
would necessarily become “our natural and habitual enemy.” The United
States and France were on a collision course.
England came to the rescue, at least indirectly, as British-French ten-
sions threatened to erupt in war. A beleaguered Napoleon decided to sell
off the Louisiana territory: better it go to the United States, he must have
calculated, than to the English. By the terms of the 1803 purchase arrange-
ment, the United States paid about $15 million in exchange for a massive
span ofland, one that not only included the present-day state of Louisiana
but that almost doubled the territorial size of the then United States.
Florida came next, through a combination of guile and force. In
1817 Secretary of State John Quincy Adams opened talks with the Span-
ish minister, don Luis de Onis, after which General Andrew Jackson
seized Spanish forts at St. Marks and Pensacola. Instead of reprimanding
Jackson, as one might have expected, Adams demanded reparations from
Spain to cover the cost of the military expedition-allegedly undertaken
against Indians whom the Spaniards could not control. Unable to obtain
diplomatic support from Great Britain, the king of Spain agreed in 1819
to cede “all the territories which belong to him situated to the eastward
of the Mississippi and known by the name of East and West Florida.” In
return the U.S. government would assume the claims of its citizens
against the Spanish government in the amount of $5 million. This money
was to be paid to American citizens, not to the Spanish government: tech-
nically speaking, the United States did not “purchase” Florida, as is often
said. In addition Spain renounced her claim to territory north of the
forty-second parallel from the Rockies to the Pacific, while the United
States gave up its claims to Texas. America’s renunciation of interest in
Texas did not, of course, endure the test of time.
England’s refusal to support Spanish claims in the New World re-
sulted from political calculations about the European theater. In the mid-
1820s, with French troops occupying parts of a much-weakened Spain,
British foreign minister George Canning began to worry about the possi-
bility that France might assume control of Spain’s holdings in the New
World. That would upset the balance of power. To prevent this outcome
he extended diplomatic recognition to the struggling republics of Spanish
America, a gesture that earned accolades and gratitude throughout the
continent. But Canning’s motive was less than charitable, as he immod-
estly declared in 1826: “Contemplating Spain, such as our ancestors had
known her, I resolved that if France had Spain, it should not be Spain
with the Indies. I called the New World into existence to redress the bal-
ance of the Old.” Rarely had the logic of the Imperial Era found such
pristine expression.
Military Conquest
In the 1820s Mexico won independence from Spain and jurisdiction over
thr nrnvinrr nf T~xali. then a lare:clv unpopulated wilderness. (Presum-
20 The Imperial Era
ably Mexico’s achievement of sovereignty freed the United States from its
1819 commitment to Spain .) After its long and bitter struggle for inde-
pendence, Mexico was in a greatly weakened state. Economic production
was anemic, especially in the mining and agricultural sectors; governmen-
tal budgets ran consistent deficits, taxes were steadily raised, properties
were confiscated, old currencies were recalled and new ones issued; poli-
tics fell prey to chronic instability. Between 1821 and 1860 the country
had more than fifty presidents, approximately one per year, and the mili-
tary comprised by far the nation’s strongest political force. Through this
turmoil there emerged the mercurial Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, hero
of Mexico’s rejection of Spain’s attempted reconquista in 1829 and of the
expulsion of French troops during the so-called guerra de las paste/es in
1838 . Santa Anna would both precipitate and personify Mexico ‘ s disinte –
gration and vulnerability during its first quarter-century of independence.
Recognizing their inability to protect the country’s northern frontier,
Mexican leaders in the 1820s permitted colonists, most of them slave-
holding planters from the United States, to settle in the province of
Texas. A group led by Stephen F. Austin agreed to profess the Roman
Catholic religion, to conduct official transactions in Spanish, and to abide
by Mexican law. Yet the colonists soon began chafing under Mexican rule.
They particularly complained about the fact that Texas was appended to
the state of Coahuila, where the provincial delegation was in a small mi-
nority, and demanded that Texas should become a state within Mexico,
with its own legislature and local government. Publicists in the United
States began to clamor for Texan independence. Afraid that its control of
Texas was slipping, the Mexican government attempted first to discour-
age immigration (by emancipating slaves in 1829) and then to prohibit it
altogether (through a proclamation in 1830). Shortly afterward Santa
Anna annulled the federalist constitution of 1824 and sought to concen-
trate effective power in the central government.
Texans rebelled in the name of independence . In March 1836 Santa
Anna overwhelmed Texan forces in the Battle of the Alamo; later, cap-
tured and defeated, he consented to the secession. When word of his ca-
pitulation reached Mexico City, nationalist intellectuals and politicians ex-
pressed outrage and disbelief. The Mexican legislature refused to receive a
peace commission from Texas or to extend recognition to the Lone Star
Republic.
The United States recognized Texas as a sovereign polity in 1837.
And in 1845, after the expansionist James K. Polk became president, it
annexed the republic of Texas. This was a direct affront to Mexico, which
still regarded Texas as an outlaw province of its own. Mexico and the
United States severed diplomatic relations .
A boundary dispute fanned the flames of contention. While North
Americans claimed that the southern border extended to the Rio Grande,
Mexicans insisted that the limit should end, as it always had, at the
Nueces River. In 1846 President Polk dispatched U.S. troops under Gen-
l
I
\
I
l
The European Game 21
eral Zachary Taylor to the disputed area, in what many historians inter-
pret as a deliberate move to provoke a fight. In hopes of relieving tension
the harried Mexican president, Jose Joaquin Herrera, agreed to receive a
diplomatic mission so long as the discussions “should appear to be always
frank, and free from every sign of menace or coercion.” Polk withdrew a
U.S. naval force from the coast ofVeracruz but authorized the U .S. mis-
sion under John Slidell to discuss not only Texas but the acquisition of
New Mexico and California as well . As bitterness mounted in Mexico
General Mariano Paredes overthrew the hapless Herrera, installed himself
as president, and refused to accept Slidell’s credentials .
Polk was now looking for war. On May 9 , 1846, he called a cabinet
meeting to discuss “definite measures” to be taken against Mexico. That
same evening news arrived of military hostilities at a place called Mata-
moros, on the southern bank of the Rio Grande. Seizing upon this ex-
cuse, Polk promptly called for war. In his message to Congress he praised
the United States for its “strong desire to establish peace” and con-
demned Mexico for treachery. The Mexican government had broken its
“plighted faith” by refusing to receive the Slidell mission, and had re-
sponded without reason when “Texas, a nation as independent as herself,
thought proper to unite its destinies with our own .” Tacitly confessing his
predetermination for war, Polk insisted that “the cup of forbearance had
been exhausted” even prior to the skirmish at Matamoros-which he de-
scribed as a Mexican invasion of U .S. soil. “As war exists, and, notwith-
standing all our efforts to prevent it, exists by the act of Mexico herself,”
Polk urged Congress to “recognize the existence of the war” and give
him full authority to wage the necessary campaigns.
Although the logic of his message was preposterous, Polk received
approval for his war. General Zachary Taylor swept into the city of Mon-
terrey, rebels in California took sides with the United States, and in 1847
American troops under General Winfield Scott advanced from Veracruz
to Mexico City, seizing the capital after subduing the resistance of young
Mexican cadets. The following year, in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo,
Mexico was obliged to surrender a huge span ofland-from New Mexico
and Colorado to California, as revealed in Figure 1, more than a million
square miles-in exchange for a modest $15 million. Several years later
the United States extended its holdings by obtaining an additional section
of New Mexico and Arizona through the Gadsden Purchase-a transac-
tion remembered in Mexico for the application of American pressure, and
therefore known as “the imposition of Mesilla” ( el tratado impuesto de la
Mesilla), so named after the valley that passed to U.S. hands.
Ironically, one eventual consequence of the U.S. defeat of Mexico was
a flagrant breach of the Monroe Doctrine. Humiliated by the “war of the
North American invasion” and unable to achieve a semblance of stability,
political conservatives in Mexico came to the unhappy conclusion that the
country could achieve national unity and strength only through a vigorous
reassertion of Hispanic, Catholic, and royalist tradition. They also main-
22 The Imperial Era
Figure 1. U.S. territorial acquisitions from Mexico, 1836-1853. [Source: Map
from Mexican Americans/American Mexicans by Matt S. Meier and Feliciano
Ribera. Copyright © 1972, 1993 by Matt S. Meier and Feliciano Ribera. Re-
printed by permission of Hill and Wang, a division of Farrar, Straus & Giroux,
Inc.]
tained that Mexico would be able to resist further encroachments by the
United States only with protection from a European power-in this case
France. (It was in this context, incidentally, that the whole concept of
“Latin America” emerged: it was a deliberate effort by France to emphasize
its solidarity with nations of the region.) In the 1860s Mexican representa-
tives conspired with European sponsors to bring an Austrian prince, Maxi-
milian von Hapsburg, to occupy a newly created “imperial” throne. The ill-
starred reign of Maximilian and Carlota led to the exacerbation of an
already bitter civil war between “conservatives” and “liberals” in Mexico
and concluded with the emperor’s execution in 1867.
Eyes upon Cuba
The United States coveted Cyl;,a thrQ\w;hout the nineteenth century.
The European Game 23
especially-its strategic location in the Caribbean, “the pearl of the An-
tilles” offered numerous and tempting advantages. Over time, the United
States developed a two-pronged policy: one goal was to prevent the trans-
fer of Cuba to any European power other than Spain; the other was to
take over the island directly.
Thomas Jefferson confidently regarded Cuba as a proper limit for
U .S. territorial expansion, proposing the erection of a sign at the south-
ern tip of the island saying Nee plus ultra (“Not beyond here”). And as
Secretary of State John Quincy Adams viewed the hemisphere in 1823,
he observed that Cuba and Puerto Rico comprised “natural appendages
to the North An1erican continent . . . . It is scarcely possible,” he wrote,
“to resist the conviction that the annexation of Cuba to our federal re-
public will be indispensable to the continuance and integrity of the Union
itself.” Eventually, Adams surmised, this would occur as a result of natural
forces:
. there are laws of political as well as physical gravitation; and if an apple
severed by the tempest from its native tree cannot choose but fall to the
ground, Cuba, forcibly disjoined from its own unnatural connection with
Spain, and incapable of self-support, can gravitate only towards the North
American Union, which by the same law of nature cannot cast her off from
her bosom.
In other words, the United States had only to await Cuba’s liberation
from Spain. Once that occurred, laws of political gravitation would bring
the island naturally and inevitably into the fold of the United States.
Campaigns for outright annexation surged in the 1840s and 1850s.
Celebrating the conclusion of the Mexican War, journalist John L. O’Sul-
livan wrote to Secretary of State James Buchanan in March 1848:
Surely the hour to strike for Cuba has come. . . . Fresh from our Mexican
triumphs, glories and acquisition, the inevitable necessity for which the
United States must sooner or later have Cuba, will force itself on the minds
of the Spanish Ministry. . . . We will give great moral force to the party
whose measure it will be, as contributing to prove to be the true American
party, the party entrusted by God and Nature with the mission of American
policy and destiny.
Having staked his presidency upon expansionist principles, President Polk
promptly authorized negotiations for the purchase of Cuba.
Complications ensued. A Venezuelan adventurer, General Narciso
Lopez, proposed to conquer the island and present it to the United States.
Though Lopez was defeated by Spanish forces, England and France ex-
pressed alarm over American filibustering and proposed a tripartite agree-
ment to guarantee that Cuba would stay under Spain. Serving as secretary
of state under President Millard Fillmore, Edward Everett not only de-
clined to participate but seized the opportunity to reflect upon the situa-
tion of the hemisphere. English and French acquisitions in Africa and else-
whr.re “have r,rr:;:itr:rl nn 1mr:;isinrss nn thr rnrt nf thf’ TTnitf’rl ,”t”t”~ ”
24 The Imperial Era
‘·,
ness to the great European powers, as they have been brought about by·
operation of natural causes, and without any disturbance of the interna-
tional relations of the principal states!’ To this extent, Europeans and
Americans were complying with the informal codes of the imperial contest.
Everett contended that the transfer of Cuba to any European power other
than Spain would disturb this equilibrium, however, since “it would indi-
cate designs in reference to this hemisphere which could not but awaken
alarm in the United States.” The destiny of Cuba was therefore “mainly an
American question,” and the idea of a tripartite convention was wholly in-
appropriate:
The project rests on principles applicable, if at all, to Europe, where interna-
tional relations are, in their basis, of great antiquity, slowly modified, for the
most part, in the progress of time and events; and not applicable to America,
which, but lately a waste, is filling up with intense rapidity, and adjusting on
natural principles those territorial relations which, on the first discovery of
the continent, were in good degree fortuitous.
While Europe should refrain from pronouncements or actions on Cuba,
the United States was unwilling to renounce all possibility of future
claims. The island was of such strategic importance, Everett insisted, that
annexation someday “might be almost essential to our safety.” In modern
parlance, Cuba was a national security issue.
The United States continued its search for opportunities. In 1854 the
otherwise undistinguished President Franklin Pierce instructed the U.S.
minister to Spain, Pierre Soule of Louisiana, to make a new offer to pur-
chase the island or, if unsuccessful, to initiate efforts to “detach” Cuba
from Spain. Consequently plotting to overthrow the Spanish monarchy,
Soule received instructions to consult with U.S. ministers to England and
France . This ebullient threesome embodied its recommendations in a dis-
patch known as the Ostend Manifesto. The ministers began with a
solemn vow that the United States should make every effort to acquire
Cuba with Spanish “consent,” presumably through purchase. If this
could not be accomplished, however, “we shall be justified in wresting it
from Spain if we possess the power; and this upon the very same principle
that would justify an individual in tearing down the burning house of his
neighbor if there were no other means of preventing the flames from de-
stroying the home.” As demonstrated by Haiti’s continuing intimidation
of the Dominican Republic, a slave revolt in Cuba could also pose a men-
ace to racial purity.4 “We should,” the ministers continued,
be recreant to our duty, be unworthy of our gallant forefathers, and commit
base treason against posterity, should we permit Cuba to be Africanized and
become a second St. Domingo, with all its attendant horrors to the white
race, and suffer the flames to enter our own neighborhood shores, seriously
endanger or actually to consume the fair fabric of our Union.
To m;:iinniin th~ “fair fahri~” of American mdetv and to nrntect irn shores
The European Game 25
delay. If Spain stubbornly rejected U.S. overtures, it would bear responsi-
bility for the result. The Ostend Manifesto was an ultimatum.
Confronted by news leaks and anxious to maintain good public rela-
tions with Spain, the Pierce administration promptly disavowed the docu-
ment. Yet the ensuing embarrassment proved to be short-lived: one of its
signatories, James Buchanan, became the next president of the United
States.
By the late 1850s the whole question of Cuba became embroiled in
domestic sectional controversy, as the North objected to the prospect of
admitting a new slave state. The U.S . Civil War and its outcome tem-
porarily removed the issue from the political agenda. Cuba returned to
the forefront in the late 1860s, when rebels launched the Ten Years’ War
against Spanish colonial rule and prompted Ulysses S. Grant to proclaim
in 1869 what came to be known as the “no-transfer principle.” Casting a
nervous eye on England and France, the president huffed: “These depen-
dencies are no longer regarded as subject to transfer from one European
power to another.” The issue faded with Spain’s defeat of rebels in the
Ten Years’ War. It was not until the 1890s that Cuba would recapture na-
tional attention.
U.S. Imperialism II: Commercial Empire
Toward the end of the nineteenth century the United States shifted its
strategy toward Latin America. After intense soul-searching and debate
over principles and methods of expansion, Washington turned principally
from the acquisition of territory to the creation of a sphere of interest, ex-
tending U.S . hegemony through an informal network of economic and
political relations. There were several reasons for this change. One was
demographic reality: these new areas were either unsuitable for European
immigration or already populated by peoples of indigenous, African, or
Iberian heritage. According to the racist doctrines of the era, to be ex-
plored in chapter 2, this made them unfit for incorporation into the pre-
dominantly Anglo-Saxon society of the United States. Second was a
reevaluation of the global imperial contest, with its growing emphasis on
commercial advantage instead of territorial reach. Third was a realization
that imperialism, in the European sense, was an expensive proposition: as
the British would discover in India and elsewhere, it required substantial
expenditures of military and administrative capacity. By the late nine-
teenth century it was becoming apparent that with foresight and fortune
it might be possible to obtain the benefits of imperialism without assum-
ing all its costs.
United States leaders confronted two key challenges within the hemi-
sphere. One was Europe’s political domination of the Caribbean Basin. In
the mid-1890s, as shown in Figure 2, the Caribbean was essentially a Eu-
ropean lake. With the exception of Hispaniola (shared by Haiti and the
nnminir1n Rt>n11hlir’\ S f”lrt>ru rinrrlt> irhnrl ur1• 1 F11rnnt>1n rnlnmr <.n1in
N
°’
N
‘1
CENTRAL AMERICA AND THE CARIBBEAN
(SPANISH)
{? o e;5T· MAAATEN (DUTCH)
CARIBBEAN SEA
VIRGIN 0
ISLANDS Q,#:- GUADELOUPE (FRENCH)
(BRITISH/DANISH) ‘°8
l) MARTINIQUE (FRENCH)
(DUTCH) I t,BARBADOS (BRITISH;
ARUBA CURACAO .
r:l)~B~RE
.. 01ernst.l
NORTHERN SOUTH AMERICA
BOQOti
• COLOMBIA
VENEZUELA
BRAZIL
Figure 2. European possessions in Latin America, mid-1890s. (The Falkland Is-
lands , off the southern coast of Argentina, were also held by the British.)
(BRITISH)
28 The Imperial Era
of the Virgin Islands, Grenada and several of the leeward islands, as well
as the mainland dominions of British Honduras and British Guiana·
‘ France held Martinique, Guadeloupe, and French Guiana; the Dutch
held several islands, including St. Maartens, plus Dutch Guiana on the
northern fringe of South America. No wonder European leaders ridiculed
the Monroe Doctrine.
The second challenge came from Europe’s commercial position. The
United States had a strong presence around the greater Caribbean Basin,
especially in Cuba and Mexico, but Europe was preeminent in South
America (see Table Al in the statistical appendix). As ofl913 Great Britain
was the leading overall trade partner for Argentina, Chile, and Peru, and it
was the largest source ofimports for Brazil. Germany and France both had
important commercial relations with Argentina and Brazil. Throughout
southern South America, the United States was a relatively minor source of
commerce-and of political influence. As writer and publicist William
Eleroy Curtis would exclaim to the U.S. Congress in 1886, the benefits of
economic growth in that southernmost region were going almost ex-
clusively to “the three commercial nations of Europe”-England, France,
and Germany-which “have secured a monopoly of the trade of Spanish
America … [and] the Englishmen,” Curtis gravely warned, “have the
Brazilians by the throat.” In the 1890s Benjamin F. Tracy, secretary of the
navy, sounded a similar alarm: “Commercial supremacy by a European
power in . . . the Western Hemisphere means the exclusion of American
influence and the virtual destruction, as far as that state is concerned, of in-
dependent existence. With the great maritime powers it is only a step from
commercial control to territorial control.”
Investments offered a similar picture . During the nineteenth century
the United States, itself a debtor nation, was in no position to export
much capital to Latin America . England had taken up the slack, making
long-term investments in Brazil and Argentina-and following through
with spurts of new investment in the 1870s and the 1890s. By 1914
Britain alone held more than half of all foreign investments in Latin
America. France supplied substantial capital during the 1880s and after
the turn of the century; during the period 1910-13, in fact, over 45 per-
cent of French overseas investments were directed toward Latin America.
Germany joined the race in the 1890s, and by the turn of the century
Latin American investments represented over one-third of all Germany’s
assets abroad.
In the meantime, U.S. policymakers insisted on the need to expand
export markets. As the post-Civil War economy continued its headlong
rush toward industrial growth, U.S. exports had grown from a minuscule
$392 million in 1870 to $1.3 billion by 1900. This was only a promising
start. “But today,” cried Senator Albert J. Beveridge oflndiana in 1899,
“we are raising more than we can consume . Today, we are making more
than we can use. Therefore, we must find new markets for our produce,
new occupation for our capital1 new work for our labor.” The hope was
The European Game 29
. sed trade would sustain steady growth, thereby avoiding the that mcrea .
I f depression that had devastated the economy m 1873-78, eye es o
1882-85, and 1893-97. . . . ..
To achieve this goal, polemicists and pohtioans calle~ upo~ the U.S .
ent to develop and sustain a clear-cut economic policy, rather governm . d
than laissez-faire reliance on the workings of the market. _They argue
th ·twas up to the Department of State to represent American commer-at i . . La . Am . A
cial and financial interests in foreign lands, esp~cially m tm enca . s
the New York Commercial Advertiser asserted m 1898, we can now spe~k
f ” new Monroe Doctrine, not of political principles, but of commercial oa . fi”
l. Instead of laying down dogmas, it figures up pro ts. po icy … •
A Sphere of One’s Own: The Pan-American Community
In the late nineteenth century the United States began making vigorous
efforts to institutionalize its rising claim to hegemony within the Western
Hemisphere. In 1881 Secretary of State Jam~s G. B~aine, the “Plumed
Knight” from Maine, issued invitations for an mternati~nal conferen~e t?,
consider “the means of preventing war among the nations of Amenca.
(During 1865-70 countries of the Southern Cone had fo~g~~ the lon_g
and bitter Paraguayan War, and in 1879 Chile and Peru had imtiated their
War of the Pacific.) As Blaine would later describe his intent, he had_ two
purposes in mind: “first, to bring about peace . .. . ; second: to cultivate
such friendly commercial relations with all Amencan countnes as would
lead to a large increase in the export trade of the United States. To obtain
the second object the first must be accomplished.” To assuage concern
among Latin Americans and to distinguish the United States from En-
gland, Blaine explained that “Our great demand is expansion” but only of
trade, rather than of territory. What he was seeking, in other words, was
“what the younger Pitt so well called annexation of trade .”
After President James A. Garfield’s assassination Blaine was replaced
as secretary of state, and his successor, Frederick T. Frelinghuysen, ex-
pressed open skepticism about any meeting where Latin American natio~s
might outvote the United States. Yet Frelinghuysen supported the basic
idea of consolidating a U .S. sphere of influence: “I am thoroughly con-
vinced,” he said in 1884, “of the desirability of knitting closely our rela-
tions with the States of this continent . . . in the spirit of the Monroe
Doctrine which, in excluding foreign political interference, recognizes
the com~on interest of the States of North and South America.” Com-
menting on recently concluded reciprocity pacts with Spain for i~crea~ed
trade with Cuba and Puerto Rico, Frelinghuysen expressed satisfaction
that the accord would bring “those islands into close commercial connec-
tion with the United States (and] confers upon us and upon them all ben-
efits which would result from annexation were that possible .” The secre-
tary also looked forward to a series of comparable agreements with
nations nf T ,.1tin America that “ol:lcm the markets of the west coast of
30 The Imperial Era
South America to our trade and gives us at our doors a customer able to
absorb a large portion of those articles which we produce in return for
products which we cannot profitably raise.” Like Blaine, Frelinghuysen
saw the principal goal of U.S. policy toward the region as expansion of
trade.
With Benjamin Harrison elected to the presidency in 1888, Blaine re-
turned as secretary of state and took the opportunity to issue a second in-
vitation for what had come to be known as a “Pan-American” conference.
The agenda included not only the preservation of peace within the hemi-
sphere but also commercial development and economic integration . Top-
ics ranged from construction of a Pan American railway to the adoption
of a common monetary standard. There was to be no contemplation of
political or military alliances. At the conference itself considerable discus-
sion focused on the possible formation of a customs union-which would
oblige nations of the hemisphere to erect common tariffs on commercial
products from outside the region. The idea was voted down, however, as
delegates expressed concern over potential threats to national sovereignty.
The conference yielded scant material results. One was the creation of
a Commercial Bureau of the American Republics-parent of the Pan
American Union and, much later, the Organization of American States.
Another, indirect consequence was a series of bilateral reciprocity treaties
between the United States and nations of Latin America. Yet another out-
come drew little notice at the time. During congressional debates over
reciprocity Eugene Hale, a U.S. senator from Maine, proposed a measure
that would have included Canada as well as Latin America in a common
zone for free trade in raw materials. The idea gained few adherents, and
Hale himself quietly withdrew it from consideration. It would reemerge
in the century ahead.
Obtaining John BuWs Acquiescence
During the 1890s America’s principal rival in Latin America was Great
Britain. A number of episodes heightened tensions between the two pow-
ers. In the Chilean port of Valparaiso, for instance, two American sailors
from the vessel Baltimore were stabbed to death during a saloon brawl in
1891. At first unable to obtain full satisfaction from Chilean authorities,
President Benjamin Harrison threatened to take military action. But the
real issue was not so much financial indemnity; it was international power.
Chile was in the midst of political upheaval, and the United States and
Britain found themselves on opposite sides: Washington sided with the
existing government, while the British supported anti-American rebels.
The New York Tribune offered a clear view of the interests at stake:
The danger to the United States in these crises arises from the disposition of
Europeans to interfere, the while pretending that they are merely defending
their own commercial interests. In Chili and the Argentine, the most pro-
P-rrssivr rnmmrrri;il rn1mtri~s nfSnmh Amuirn, w~ h;iv~ n~rmimxl F,nP-lilnfl
The European Game 31
btain monopoly of trade. We have talked lustily about the “Monroe Doc-
to
O
b ·1din hi d . k · ,, while Great Britain has been w g s ps an operung mar ets.
rnne ·1· d th Ar ·
B · · h subJ·ects to-day hold a chattel mortgage over Chi 1 an e gent.me. nus th • fl ·
No American who wishes his country to possess em uence m com-
~~r~e and affairs to which its position among nations entitles it can be
pleased with this situation.
The Baltimore affair was eventually settled in early ~892_ w?en ~e
Chilean government paid $75,000 as indemnity, but the 1mphcat1ons h?-
gered on : the United States and Britain were wrestling for supremacy m
the Americas.
Subsequent encounters took place in Brazil and Nicaragua, but the
most serious British-American confrontation resulted from the Venezue-
lan crisis of 1895-96. The precipitating conflict was a boundary dispute
between Venezuela and British Guiana. At specific issue was control over
the mouth of the Orinoco River, the trade artery for the northern third of
South America. Venezuela requested international arbitration. Great
Britain responded by augmenting its claims-now to include a region rich
in gold deposits. Venezuela broke off diplomatic relations with England
and appealed to President Grover Cleveland in Washington.
The United States had two major interests in this controversy. One
was access to the Orinoco River. The other was political influence. In
February 1895 the U.S. Congress announced its opposition to the British
claims . In July 1895 Secretary of State Richard Olney couched a message
to Whitehall in unusually blunt and provocative language:
Today the United States is practically sovereign on this continent, and its fiat
is law upon the subjects to which it confines its interposition. Why? It is not
because of the pure friendship or good will felt for it. It is not simply by rea-
son of its high character as a civilized state, nor because wisdom and justice
and equity are the invariable characteristics of the dealings of the United
States . It is because, in addition to all other grounds, its infinite resources
combined with its isolated position render it master of the situation and prac-
tically invulnerable as against any or all other powers.
This passage has earned for Olney a dubious reputation in the history of
inter-American relations. It is rarely remembered that after all this bluster
the note concluded with a call for peaceful arbitration.
The British foreign minister, Lord Salisbury, responded with two
separate messages. One refuted the assertion by Olney that the Monroe
Doctrine comprised a part of international law; the other consented to
the principle of arbitration. Ongoing crises in Europe, South Africa, and
the Middle East finally compelled Lord Salisbury to consent to the cre-
ation of an arbitration board-with two Americans, two British citi zens,
and one Russian authority on international law. (No one had consulted
Venezuela in the meantime.) After protesting, Venezuela was reluctantly
allowed to have one member of the board.
Rv -irrrntinv ;irhitr;itinn Grr,ilt Rrit;iin w;is tacitlv n;cmmiz.in!l; Qln<::v's
32 The Imperial Era
claim to American preeminence throughout the Western Hemisphere. And
from that point forward, Britain would tend to align itself on the side of the
United States, using U.S. power whenever possible to protect British inter-
ests in Latin America. Through the Venezuelan controversy, the United
States had taken a major step toward the achievement of de facto hege-
mony in the Americas.
Securing the Caribbean
The ~aribbean Basin remained a focal point for U.S. policy. As always
~ashmgton was eager to reduce, if not eliminate, the European presence
m the ~r~a. Th~ United States wanted to take advantage of promising op-
portumtles for mvestment and trade. A related goal was the creation and
protection. of ship_ring lanes for U.S. commerce. Also compelling was a
long-standmg desire to construct a canal in Central America that would
establish a link between the east and west coasts of the United States and
equally important, provide access to the alluring markets of the Far East’.
I~ v~ew of widely accepted military doctrine, this plan bore geopolitical
s1gmfic~nce as well: _as h~storian-publicist Alfred Thayer Mahan forcefully
argued m such mag1stenal books as The Influence of Sea Power upon His-
tory (1890), naval power was the key to international influence which
meant that the United States required a two-ocean navy. A transi;thmian
canal would make this possible.
Spanish-Cuban-American War
Th~ Cub~n question returned to the fore largely because of efforts by
ant.1-Spamsh forces. The U.S. response to the depression of 1893 had
major repercussions on the island: when the protectionist tariff of 1894
r~mov~d provisions for reciprocity, the Cuban economy collapsed. Planta-
t10ns discharged workers in 1894 and 1895, owing to loss of the North
American market, and rebellion quickly ensued. Led by the Maceo broth-
ers in Cuba and inspired by writings of the exiled Jose Marti in New York
Cuban forces mounted a determined drive for independence from Spain’.
Ch~os resul~g from the military campaigns offered a short-lived pretext
for mtervention by the United States. In 1896 Congress declared that the
U.S . government “should be prepared to protect the legitimate interests
of our citizens, by intervention if necessary.” By this time North Ameri-
~ans _had _invested more than $30 million in the island, including $8 mil-
~1on 1~ ~mes an_d _$12 million in plantations. A clamor for war was steadily
~nte~stfymg. Wilham Randolph Hearst, the creator of “yellow journal-
1s~, rep~rtedly warned an overly scrupulous newspaper artist: “You fur-
rush the pictures, and I’ll furnish the war.”
Resisting popular opinion, President Grover Cleveland refused to
intervene. In June 1895 the White House issued a declaration of neu-
tralitv. tacitlv acknowkrlP-inP- il ,~tiltf” nfhr-llivr-rrnnr in 111h’l Anri in Anril
The European Game 33
IS96, going one step further, Se~retary of St~te Ol~ey offered to medi-
the
conflict. The move was reJected by Spam, which then sought sup-
ate 1 S · · M dr’d’ ort from other European powers to foresta 1 U … m_terventi~n. a _ 1 . s
p rure cell on deaf ears: Britain was reevaluating its Amencan pohc1es
over 1′ .
in light of the Venezuelan . crisis,. France ‘:as ~nconcern~d, and Russia
was attempting to consolidate its growmg mfluence m Korea and
Manchuria. . . . .
As events unfolded, this became a tnangular conflict-mvolvmg
Spain, the United States, and the Cuban independence movement. The
United States initially supported autonomy for Cuba under a reformed
colonial regime, but this was not acceptable to Spain or to the Cubans.
Spain wanted to maintain its empire, but this was no~ acceptable to the
Cubans or to Washington. And the Cubans fought for mdependence, but
this was not acceptable to Spain or the United States. In fact Madrid and
Washington firmly agreed on denial of power to the Cubans . As the
American consul wrote to the State Department in 1897, “All classes of
Spanish citizens are violently opposed to a real or genuine autonomy be-
cause it would throw the island into the hands of the Cubans-and rather
than that they prefer annexation to the United States or some form of
American protectorate.” He later observed that upper-class supporters of
the Cuban rebellion were apprehensive as well: “They are most pro-
nounced in their fears that independence, if obtained, would result in the
troublesome, adventurous, and non-responsible class” seizing power.
By late 1897, with William McKinley as president, prospects for a n~-
gotiated settlement seemed fairly bright. Then struck two thunderbolts m
early 1898. First, the White House came into possession of a confidential
but careless letter from the Spanish consul, Dupuy de Lome, who deliv-
ered himself of the opinion that McKinley was a weak, venal, and vacillat-
ing politician. Second, an explosion ripped through the U.S . battle~hip
Maine in Havana harbor and took the lives of more than 260 Amencan
seamen. McKinley responded with an ultimatum, demanding an immedi-
ate cessation of hostilities by Spain and full reparations for the sinking of
the Maine . As Madrid was preparing to accede, McKinley proceeded to
recommend war anyway- “in the name of humanity, in the name of civi-
lization, on behalf of endangered American interests.” To his other terms
McKinley now added a call for Cuban independence, which he knew the
Spanish government could not accept.
As McKinley declared war on Spain, the question immediately arose
as to whether Washington should extend recognition to the rebel forces.
The president finally proclaimed, with uncommon clarity:
To commit this country now to the recognition of any particular government
in Cuba might subject us to the embarrassing conditions of international
obligation toward the organization so recognized . In case of intervention
our conduct would be subject to the approval or disapproval of such govern-
ment . We would be required to submit to its direction and to assume to it
rh,- m,-r,. rl’htinn nf frir-ncilv r1l1v,
34 The Imperial Era
Recognition of an independent government might impose unwelcome re-
strictions upon the United States. Like his predecessors, McKinley
wanted to preserve complete freedom of action in Cuba.
Under orders from Theodore Roosevelt, assistant secretary of the
navy, Commodore George Dewey promptly launched an attack on the
Spanish fleet at Manila harbor in the Philippines. The rambunctious
Roosevelt himself joined the fray, leading his “Rough Riders” in a much-
publicized assault upon Cuba’s San Juan Hill. The exhausted Spaniards
proved to be no match for their American opponents, and the “splendid
little war” lasted only a matter of months. According to the peace terms,
Cuba attained independence from Spain. The United States assumed out-
right control of Puerto Rico and Guam and, for a payment of $20 mil-
lion, the Philippine Islands as well (in these specific cases the United
States established European-style colonies) . What had started as a war to
liberate Cuba, in the eyes of many, became a war to expand the American
empire.
Cuba’s independence from Spain did not mean independence from
the United States. As the hostilities faded, Cuba fell under the direct ad-
ministration of the U.S. War Department. And as Cuban leaders worked
to establish a government, the United States in 1901 attached to Cuba’s
new constitution the so-called Platt Amendment, permitting the United
States to intervene in the affairs of the island “for the preservation of
Cuban independence, and the maintenance of a government adequate for
the protection of life, property, and individual liberty.” This provision was
also ratified in a treaty of 1903 . A sovereign nation in name, Cuba was in
fact a protectorate of the United States.
Taking Panama
Major powers had long contemplated the possibility of constructing a
canal through Central America that would connect the Atlantic and Pa-
cific Oceans, eliminate the need for time-consuming and dangerous voy-
ages around Cape Horn, accelerate commerce and trade, and revise the
prevailing distribution of geopolitical influence. Initial plans dated back to
the seventeenth century. By the middle of the nineteenth century, the
United States and Britain sought to minimize friction resulting from their
own competing claims by concurring, in the Clayton-Bulwer treaty of
1850, that any such canal would be a joint Anglo-American project. Like
so many diplomatic accords, this one was made to be broken.
Attention focused principally on Nicaragua, whose lakes and rivers of-
fered a promising site, and on Panama, a province of Colombia at the nar-
rowest point on the isthmus. In 1878 the Colombian government autho-
rized a French group under Ferdinand de Lesseps, builder of the Suez
Canal, to dig a route through Panama. United States engineers continued
to favor Nicaragua, and a North American firm received a contract to
begin excavation in that country. Then came the financial Pani<,: Qf 1893,
The European Game 35
Popular interest in Central America quickened. as_ a result ~f the
Spanish-American War. As a bi~ter inter_nal struggle w1thm Colom~1a was
nearing its end in 1903, Washmgton dispatched troops to quell disorder
• Panama. The resulting crisis eventually led to the Hay- Herran treaty,
: agreement that authorized the United States to build a canal in
panama. The U.S. Congress eagerly approved the document-but the
Colombian legislature, unwilling to compromise national sovereignty, re-
fused to go along.
The United States then fomented insurrection . With Roosevelt’s full
knowledge, Philippe Buneau-Varilla (the de Lesseps chief engineer)
started laying plans for a separatist rebellion in Panama. As the uprising
began, U.S. ships prevented Colombian troops from crossing _t~e isthmus
to Panama City. Within days Washington extended recognmon to the
newly sovereign government of Panama, and received Buneau-Varilla
(still a French citizen) as its official representative. United States Secretary
of State John Hay and Buneau-Varilla hastily signed a treaty giving the
United States control of a ten-mile-wide canal zone “in perpetuity …
as it if were sovereign.” A pliant Panamanian legislature soon approved
the document . As TR would reportedly boast: “I took the Canal Zone.” 6
Opened in 1914, the canal immediately became a major international
waterway, and the Panamanian government began receiving steady an-
nuities. The Canal Zone became a de facto U.S. colony, an area of legal
privilege and country-club prosperity that stood in sharp and conspicuous
contrast to local society. Outside the Zone, Panama developed the charac-
teristics that typified Central America as a whole: dependence on agricul-
tural exports ( especially bananas), reliance on the U.S. market, and do-
mestic control by a tightly knit landed oligarchy. Washington had
established a protectorate that would help promote, protect, and extend
its commercial empire . With the taking of the canal , the United States
completed its century-long efforts to gain territorial footholds around the
Caribbean Basin.
Recipe for Intervention
Effective maintenance of the U.S. sphere of influence required the exclu-
sion of powers external to the hemisphere. In flagrant contravention of
the Monroe Doctrine, however, naval forces from Germany and Great
Britain launched an armed intervention against Venezuela in December
1902 to collect debts due their citizens. Italy soon joined the assault. As
fighting intensified the Argentine foreign minister, Luis Maria Drago,
urged Washington to proclaim its opposition to the use of armed force by
any European power against any American nation for the purpose of col-
lecting debts. It was Drago’s intention, however naive, that this stipula-
tion would become a multilateral inter-American policy, not a unilateral
U.S. assertion.
The Roosevelt administration was unhappy with the European in-
36 The Imperial Era
interventionist powers, but was also cool to Drago’s idea of multilateral
consultation. In 1904 the president finally responded with a proclama-
tion: “Any country whose people conduct themselves well,” Roosevelt
asserted,
can count upon our hearty friendship. If a nation shows that it knows how to
act with reasonable efficiency and decency in social and political matters, if it
keeps order and pays its obligations, it need fear no interference from the
United States. Chronic wrong-doing, or an impotence which results in a
general loosening of the ties of society, may in America, as elsewhere, ulti-
mately require intervention by some civilized nation, and in the western
hemisphere the adherence of the United States to the Monroe Doctrine may
force the United States, however reluctantly, in flagrant cases of such wrong-
doing or impotence, to the exercise of an international police power.
To avoid any pretext for intervention by Europe, in other words, the
United States would assume responsibility for maintaining order in the
hemisphere. And despite Drago’s hopes, the United States would act on a
unilateral basis.
This statement of policy became instantly known as the “Roosevelt
Corollary” to the Monroe Doctrine. It was aimed at major extrahemi-
spheric powers, assuring them that the United States would guarantee
order ( and fulfillment of obligations on debts) throughout the region,
and also at the governments of Latin America, warning them that the
United States would take military action in the face of “wrong-doing or
impotence .” The United States thus proclaimed itself a hegemon .
Roosevelt’s bellicose stance gained widespread support from com-
mentators and politicians throughout the United States. In 1909 one of
the most distinguished journalists of the era, Herbert Croly, argued that
hemispheric cooperation and solidarity would necessarily require interfer-
ence and expansion:
In all probability no American international system will ever be established
without the forcible pacification of one or more centers of disorder. . . .
Any international American system might have to undertake a task in states
like Venezuela, similar to that which the United States is performing in Cuba.
. . . 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 lit-
tle order into the affairs of the turbulent Central American republics.
United States tutelage and power would bring development and democ-
racy throughout the Western Hemisphere. Fittingly enough, Croly’s
book was entitled The Promise of American Life.
The mere proclamation of U.S. hegemony throughout the Western
Hemisphere did not, of course, bring it into effect. Throughout the early
twentieth century European interests would continue to play a major role
throughout the region. Great Britain maintained colonies in the
Caribbean and close commercial ties with Chile and especially Argentina.
Germany would attempt to lure Mexico to its sidt durin2″ Workl W;ir T
The European Game 37
h the Zimmerman Telegram, offering to restore lands lost during thfoug · c d. 1 · d
” f the North American invasion” m return ior tp omauc an the war o . . • p
• · al support.7 With possessions of its own m the Amencas, ranee
logisuc • h · Ul ·
Id nurture cultural and intellectual ties throughout t e reg10n . u-
wou l ·twas a chain of events and processes in the global arena at large,
mate Y,
1
I fulfill
not boisterous declarations of U.S. in~ent, that led to the eventua –
ment of America’s hegemonic pretens10ns.
2
The Gospel of Democracy
We must Consider that we shall be a City upon a Hill, the eyes of all
people are upon us.
John Winthrop (1630)
Cabalistic phrases [are designed to hold the citizen ry} spell bound, as if
the lies of magic were realities and a syllable or two of gibberish could
reverse all the laws of nature and turn human intelligence into
brutishness. One of these is «our manifest destiny,” a shallow and
impious phrase. Who shall assure that it is not of the «Devil’s fetching. ”
. Oh, miserable humbug of History!
National Intelligencer ( 1848)
A central tenet in America’s national creed has endowed the United States
with a political mission : spreading the gospel of democracy throughout the
world. During the nineteenth century this belief served to legitimize impe-
rial behavior and dignify unseemly conquests, at least in the eyes of the be-
holders . Implicitly, the credo sustained the argument that Europe, mo-
narchical and unrepublican, should stay out of the Western Hemisphere.
During the twentieth century it also provided a rationale for intervention
in the affairs of sovereign nations of Latin America .
The basic purpose of this intellectual activity was to provide an expla-
nation and justification for U.S. imperialism, territorial and commercial.
Though ideas can acquire a life of their own, the driving goals of U.S .
policy toward Latin America were economic and political expansion. In
thi~ ,nntnt th, mk nf irl,n]ngir w;i~ tn nrrnrirl, ” rnh,~iv, int,rnr,t1tinn
The Gospel of Democracy 39
of U.S. behavior, to imbue it with a higher purpose, and to present the is-
sues at hand in satisfying and self-serving terms.
This was not merely an academic exercise. The persistent invocation
of the ideals of democracy represented efforts to redefine the substance of
conflict, to seize control of the agenda, to capture the terms of debate,
and to shape the outcome of the struggle itself. Ideology tends toward
simplification. By providing a “cognitive map” of reality, ideology reduces
complex issues to straightforward and usually simplistic terms that not
only provide a pleasing and coherent explanation but also suggest a pre-
scription for action.
Regarding U.S . relations with Latin America, this rhetoric was aimed
at three main audiences. One consisted of domestic society. For national
leaders, the definition of U.S. policy as fulfillment of a higher mission
could assist in the mobilization of resources. Everything else being equal,
citizens preferred to believe that their efforts were serving some noble
purpose rather than material self-interest. Ideology could also provide
leaders with weapons for weakening and silencing domestic opposition.
Objections to official policy would not merely express disagreement on
tactics or strategy; they would constitute disloyalty.
The second audience consisted of rival powers, especially in Europe.
The deployment of ideological rhetoric served to emphasize the impor-
tance of the matter at hand, warning outside rivals that interference on
their part would tread on hallowed ground. Ideology underlined national
purpose and will. At the same time it presented would-be rivals with an
intellectual challenge . Unless they could produce an ideological rational-
ization of their own, one that was plausible if not superior, they would be
discouraged from action. Throughout history, of course, imperial powers
justified their actions in terms of a higher mission. Either they struggled
for monopoly over claims to a single shared mission, as in the case of six-
teenth-century Portugal and Spain; or they confronted each other and
the international community with alternative declarations of purpose . In
either event, ideological disputation remained part and parcel of imperial-
istic rivalry and contestation.
A third audience consisted of the subjugated societies . In this con-
text, the role of ideological indoctrination-epitomized by missionary ac-
tivities and educational campaigns-was to engender a rationale for ac-
ceptance by local peoples of new power arrangements. The colonized
could interpret the new situation not so much as national ( or societal)
defeat but as a march toward higher truth. Special emphasis was placed
on leadership groups and those who could serve as go-betweens (and
who would usually benefit handsomely as a result) . Ultimately, the
achievement of voluntary acquiescence within the subordinate society
was crucial to imperial power and to the imposition of durable hege-
mony. Otherwise rule must rest on the perpetual use or threat of force-
which was costly, inefficient, and counterproductive. Ideology was serious
business,
40 The Imperial Era
The Meaning of Manifest Destiny
Every nation has its own mythology. For the United States, the capstone
idea has defined American purpose as a quest for national greatness and
the promotion of political democracy. As Thomas Paine declared in Com-
mon Sense, his famous call for independence in 1776, “We have it in our
power to begin the world all over again.” This was not a modest claim. In
the eyes of British (and other European) observers of the time, such brash
expressions of self-importance must have looked preposterous.
America’s emerging ideology drew a fundamental distinction between
the New World and the Old, between America and Europe. These were to
be two separate spheres. An early exponent of U.S. views on the world,
Paine gave explicit formulation to this credo by stressing, first, the fact that
immigrants had crossed the ocean precisely to escape from Europe: “this
New World has been the asylum for the persecuted and the lovers of civil
and religious liberty from every part of Europe.” Second, Paine took notice
of geography, especially the Atlantic Ocean, observing that “even the dis-
tance at which the Almighty has placed England and America is a strong
and natural proof that the authority of the one over the other was never the
design of heaven.” And third, he combined historical with religious inter-
pretation: “The time likewise at which the continent was discovered adds
weight to the argument, and the manner in which it was peopled increases
the force of it. The Reformation was preceded by the discovery of
America-as if the Almighty meant to open sanctuary to the persecuted.”
A central element in this mythology was belief in providential bene-
diction. It was God in Heaven, not just earthly mortals, who endowed
American society with its virtues and its purposes. The pursuit of national
greatness therefore could not be a matter of choice. It was a sacred obli-
gation. Just as sixteenth-century Spaniards persuaded themselves that
they were performing God’s will, so did eighteenth-century Americans
and their descendants. It was incumbent upon them to act as they did;
otherwise they could be committing sacrilege as well as treason.
This sense of heavenly mission led to an emphasis on national
uniqueness, a fundamental belief in the exceptionalism of the United
States. Not only was America distinct from Europe; as the bastion of
democracy, it stood apart from other nations as a City on a Hill. With re-
gard to foreign policy, this conviction encouraged contradictory impulses.
On the one hand, it gave rise to the notion that the United States was ex-
ceptional, superior, a truly chosen land whose political ideals and institu-
tions could (by definition) never flourish anywhere else. This was an isola-
tionist idea. On the other hand, the sense of uniqueness shaped and
defined the political obligation to spread the gospel of democracy. This
was an activist idea. Imbued with this conviction, many American leaders
could not rest content with the construction of a working democracy at
home. They felt charged to extend the virtues of this idea to other parts of
the globe, thus carrying out the divine task of political <,:iy" · a ·
i
I
The Gospel of Democracy 41
Territorial expansion in the nineteenth century required and rein-
forced a righteous definition for U.S. national purpose. As President
James K. Polk contested Britain’s claim to the Oregon territory and pre-
pared for war in Mexico during the 1840s, a young newspaper editor
named John L. O’Sullivan invoked providential will. The U.S. claim, he
asserted in the New York Morning News, “is by the right of our manifest
destiny to overspread and to possess the whole of the continent which
Providence has given us for the development of the great experiment of
liberty and federated self-government entrusted to us.” Cast in these
terms, it was America’s mission to democratize the continent.
Thus emerged the idea of “manifest destiny.” This was more than a
catchphrase or slogan. It was a concept that crystallized a sense of na-
tional purpose, providing both an explanation and a rationalization for
U.S. territorial expansion. The seizure of lands represented not avarice
but “destiny,” a Heaven-sent fate that mere mortals could neither prevent
nor ignore. This destiny was moreover clearly “manifest,” a self-evident
truth that was plain for all to see. Of course this assertion was not subject
to empirical proof or verification. It was held to be transparently true, and
it was therefore not a subject for argumentation.
O’Sullivan’s newspaper eagerly applied the implications of the doc-
trine to the Texas question. As debate mounted over the possible incor-
poration of Texas into the Union, the New York Morning News in 1845
blithely interpreted its annexation as a logical expression of historical
processes:
From the time that the Pilgrim Fathers landed on these shores to the present
moment, the older settlements have been constantly throwing off a hardy,
restless and lawless pioneer population, which has kept in advance, subduing
the wilderness and preparing the way for more orderly settlers who tread
rapidly upon their footsteps. . . . As their numbers increased, law and order
obtained control, and those unable to bear constraint sought new homes.
These latter have rolled forward in advance of civilization, like the surf on an
advancing wave, indicative of its restless approach. This is the natural, un-
changeable effect of our position upon this continent, and it must continue
until the waves of the Pacific have hemmed in and restrained the onward
movement.
Thus did the Morning News resolve doubts about the validity of annexa-
tion. Tongue in cheek, the editorial also proffered an olive branch to
Mexico: if the country permitted itself to be overtaken by the “Anglo-
Saxon race,” it, too, would become able to apply for admission to the
United States.
Recurring themes in these debates were the invocation of divine pur-
pose and the spreading of democracy. As Illinois congressman John Went-
worth is recorded to have said in 1845:
He did not believe the God of Heaven, when he crowned the American arms
with success r in the Revolutionary War l, desip;ned that the orip;inal States
42 The Imperial Era
should be the only abode of liberty on the earth. On the contrary, he only
designed them as the great center from which civilization, religion, and lib-
erty should radiate and radiate until the whole continent shall bask in their
blessing.
Expansion of the nation and the diffusion of democracy over the “whole
continent” represented God’s will and therefore the national mission. At
issue was not the acquisition of territory, land, and natural resources; it
was fulfillment of a divine plan.
Not surprisingly, there existed some uncertainty about precise
boundaries for the extension of this enterprise. Some commentators cast
longing eyes on Canada; others claimed that the United States should
take all of Mexico. As Daniel S. Dickinson of New York proclaimed in the
Senate, during deliberations over the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the
United States still had some way to go: “New territory is spread out for us
to subdue and fertilize; new races are presented for us to civilize, educate
and absorb; new triumphs for us to achieve for the cause of freedom.
North America presents to the eye one great geographical system ….
And the period is by no means remote, when … [North America] shall
be united . . . in one political system, and that, a free, confederated, self
governed Republic.” Others went even farther. Editor James Gordon
Bennett would assert in the New York Herald, in 1845, that “the arms of
the republic . . . must soon embrace the whole hemisphere, from the
icy wilderness of the North to the most prolific regions of the smiling and
prolific South.” Anglo-Saxons and their “free institutions” were plainly
on the march.
The prospect of manifest destiny encompassed significant subthemes.
One stressed the notion of America’s youth, in implicit contrast to the de-
crepit Old World of Europe. “Too young to be corrupt,” in the words of
the United States Journal, “it is Young America, awakened to a sense of
her own intellectual greatness and her soaring spirit.” Fresh, eager, inno-
cent, the United States was coming into its own as a power. Another sub-
theme challenged European principles of international law, codes that had
arisen to regulate intercourse among nations and to sustain the post-
Westphalian balance of power. Indeed, O’Sullivan explicitly dismissed “all
those antiquated materials of old black-letter international law” in his ini-
tial promulgation of the doctrine. Within the Western Hemisphere, in
short, the United States would not be constrained by classical rules oflaw.
They applied only to Europe, not to the Americas.
Yet another subtheme stressed not only democratic principles in ab-
stract form but the particular virtues of states’ rights. According to O’Sul-
livan and his cohorts, governmental federation offered an ideal formula
for territorial expansion through the incorporation of new states, one at a
time: “How magnificent in conception!” O’Sullivan exclaimed. “How
beneficent in practice is this system, which associates nations in one great
family compact, without destroying the social identity, or improperly con-
sm· inv. t , ·ncti · 11 1 ,n· s a n .m ,nts i o 1 nts o
The Gospel of Democracy 43
strength and civilization those very sources of difference which have
heretofore destroyed the peace of mankind!” New states could join the
Union without upsetting the structure of government. Added a writer in
the Democratic Review, the discovery of such a benevolent prescription
could only be “an emanation from Providence.” God spoke in clear as
well as mysterious ways.
Despite its vigor, the summons to manifest destiny contained a good
deal of ambiguity. One source of uncertainty concerned the question of
inevitability versus agency, passivity versus activism. To what extent was
the American future already foreordained, and therefore bound to occur
as the result of automatic processes? Or would it require decisive action
on the part of leaders and citizens? Characteristically, the issue acquired its
most explicit form in debates over the need for military action. In discus-
sions over the Oregon question, John C. Calhoun, soon to oppose the
war with Mexico, gave clear expression to the passive school of thought:
Time is acting for us; and, if we shall have the wisdom to trust its operation, it
will assert and maintain our right with resistless force, without costing a cent
of money, or a drop of blood. . . . Our population is rolling toward the
shores of the Pacific with an impetus greater than what we realize.
After all, one might have argued, if the nation truly had a “destiny,” and a
“manifest” one at that, why not simply await its arrival?
On the other side, war hawks expressed no apprehensions about mili-
tary intervention. Destiny was something to be seized, not passively
awaited. As hostilities mounted with Mexico, the definition of national
purpose broadened in scope. In his annual message of 1847 Polk declared
that U.S. action now had a political goal, the prevention of monarchy in
Mexico. That same year the Boston Times proclaimed that military con-
quest by the United States would bring untold benefits to Mexico:
The “conquest” which carries peace into a land where the sword has always
been the sole arbiter between factions equally base, which institutes the reign
oflaw where license has existed for a generation; which provides for the edu-
cation and elevation of the great mass of people, who have, for a period of
300 years been the helots of an overbearing foreign race, and which causes
religious liberty, and full freedom of mind to prevail where a priesthood has
long been enabled to prevent all religion save that of its worship,-such a
“conquest,” stigmatize it as you please, must necessarily be a great blessing to
the conquered. It is a work worthy of a great people, of a people who are
about to regenerate the world by asserting the supremacy of humanity over
the accidents of birth and fortune.
Echoed Moses Y. Beach, editor of the New York Sun: “The [Mexican]
race is perfectly accustomed to being conquered, and the only lesson we
shall teach is that our victories will give liberty, safety, and prosperity to
the vanquished, if they know enough to profit by the appearance of our
stars. To liberate and ennoble-not to enslave and debase-is our mission.”
rt 11 fi rf'” thP Pr tn lfillmP t fn1tinn1l 11rn P
44 The Imperial Era
The greater the degree of military action, in other words, the more
expansive the definition of national purpose. At the outset of the Mexi- .’
can War, the concept of manifest destiny applied to areas of Mexico-
ultimately from Texas to California-that would be taken from the coun-
try and incorporated into the United States . As U.S. troops hammered
their way into Mexico City, however, there emerged yet another inten-
tion the liberation and democratization of Mexico. Years later a sophisti-‘
cated and skeptical observer, James Russell Lowell, would neatly capture
this relationship: the deeper and deeper the military penetration, he wrote
in the Biglow Papers, “our Destiny higher an’ higher kep’ mountin’.”
Obstacles to Democracy: History and Character
Spreading the gospel of democracy would be no easy task, as U.S . leaders
clearly recognized. And in nineteenth-century perspective, Latin America
looked like unpromising soil . One line of reasoning focused on the trajec-
tory of Latin America’s history, on the forces giving shape to what would
now be called political culture. Prominent among these were the charac-
ter of Spain, the influence of Catholicism, and the effects of climate. And
absolutely crucial, as explained below, was the difficult question ofrace. 1
A skeptical view of Latin America’s capacity for democracy came from
Thomas Jefferson as early as 1811, as he reflected on the wars for inde-
pendence from Spain. “Another great field of political experiment is
opening,” Jefferson wrote to Dupont de Nemours, and yet
I fear the degrading ignorance into which their priests and kings have sunk
them, has disqualified them from the maintenance or even knowledge of
their rights, and that much blood may be shed for little improvement in their
condition. Should their new rulers honestly lay their shoulders to remove the
great obstacles of ignorance, and press the remedies of education and infor-
mation, they will still be in jeopardy until another generation comes into
place, and what may happen in the interval cannot be predicted, nor shall you
or I live to see it. In these cases I console myself with the reflection that those
who will come after us will be as wise as we are, and as able to take care of
themselves as we have been.
It would take at least a generation to uproot the legacies of monarchism
and Catholicism. Jefferson was particularly harsh on the impact of the
Catholic Church. In 1813 he would surmise that “History, I believe, fur-
nishes no example of a priest-ridden people maintaining a free civil gov-
ernment. This marks the lowest grade of ignorance, of which their civil
as well as religious leaders will always avail themselves for their own
purposes.”
John Quincy Adams, eventual author of the Monroe Doctrine, advo-
cated a constructive but cautious stance toward Spanish American in-
dependence . The promotion of democracy “by all the moral influence
which we can exercise, whether by example, of friendly counsel, or of per-
n11nrinn ir nmronrr thA rl11ti Pr nrhirh rl Pirnh rP 11nnn 11~ in thP fnrm1tinn nf
The Gospel of Democracy 45
our future relations with our southern neighbors.” Faced with pressure to
extend diplomatic recognition to the new republics, the secretary of state
expressed doubt that U.S. influence would have much positive effect: “I
wished well to their cause,” he carefully explained,
but I had seen and yet see no prospect that they would establish free or lib-
eral institutions of government . . . . They have not the first elements of
good or free government . Arbitrary power, military and ecclesiastical, was
stamped upon their education, upon their habits, and upon all their institu –
tions. Civil dissension was infused into all their seminal principles . War and
mutual destruction was in every member of their organization, moral, politi-
cal, and physical. I had little expectation of any beneficial result to this coun-
try from any future connection with them, political or commercial.
The less the contact, the better for the United States. Intercourse could
only bring contamination.
A more optimistic assessment came from Henry Clay of Kentucky,
who consistently promoted the granting of diplomatic recognition to the
newly independent countries of the region. His argument had two con-
tentions. One focused on the international arena, maintaining that new
governments throughout the region “would be animated by an American
feeling, and guided by an American policy,” even if dictatorial in form.
They would thus provide a bulwark against European influence. The
other focused on domestic political processes, holding that cooperation
would lead to democratization in Spanish America through a kind of
demonstration effect. By granting diplomatic recognition, Clay predicted,
We should become the center of a system which would constitute the rallying
point of human wisdom against all the despotism of the Old World. Did any
man doubt the feelings of the South toward us? In spite of our coldness to-
ward them, of the rigor of our laws, and the conduct of our officers, their
hearts still turned toward us, as to their brethren; and he had no earthly
doubt, if our Government would take the lead and recognize them, that they
would become yet more anxious to imitate our institutions, and to secure to
themselves and their posterity the same freedom which we enjoy.
Recognition would lead to diplomatic cooperation, which would in turn
promote democracy. When all was said and done, however, Clay’s gran-
diose formula called for relatively modest measures by the United States.
Territorial expansion, especially the war with Mexico and anticipa-
tions of Cuba, required an activist doctrine. It was essential, in light of na-
tional mythology, for newly acquired lands and peoples to experience the
blessings of democracy. In 1854 one enthusiastic legislator justified a po-
tential military takeover of Cuba as an uplifting missionary enterprise:
We absorb to elevate; we rule by bestowing on the governed a share of politi-
cal power. Sir, we are destined to expand by assimilation, and by elevating
those who have been misgoverned and oppressed to the rank of freemen.
. . . We conquer that we may raise the conquered to an equality with our-
selves; we ;mncx tn a~~imilatr. othr.rn with ns on a hifYhrr sralr nf hnmaninr
46
The Imperial Era
A …
cqms1tton was thus an act of Jiberati fc th ” .
pres~ed.” Once incorporated into the ~:it~~ Se misgoverned and op
to climb upward to “a higher al f h . tates, they would be fre
b sc e o umamty” 0th
pro lems with the pearl of the Antill “Th . ers saw persistin
ferent language ” one congressm les. e people of Cuba speak a dif.
fc . ‘ an ater recounted “th fc
erent religion, and they are of different e . ‘ ey pro ess a dif-
ple have regarded them as aliens d tlxtractton from us; and our peo-
and civilization. . . . I think I h::
6
°u aws from the pale of humanity
than it would be to bring her . h ;en at more respectable weddings
In the late 1890s th _mto_t e ousehold [Laughter].”
d e immmence of the Spani h Am . prompte denunciation of Sp · , hi . – s – encan War
I am s stoncal record d . crue ty to native populations th . . an , parttcularly, its
by rival imperial powers in th u~ rev1vtthng the “black legend” espoused
e sixteen and sev t h one war hawk proclaimed: en eent centuries. As
S . h
pam . as been tried and convicted in th fc .
been bigotry, whose sacraments hav b e orum of history. Her religion has
rack. Her statesmanship has bee . ~ ee~sole1:1nized by the faggot and the
have been massacres: her supremn m :Uy~ er dip!omacy, hypocrisy: her wars
ing continents to sterility and th a_cy_ hasb_een a bhght and a curse, condemn-
‘ elf m a 1tants to death.
Th·
. ts condemnation possessed a doubl
v1ded a rationalization fc . e edge . On the one hand it pro-
or war agamst Spain O th . ‘
t!1at the legacy of such perfidious rule would. n e_ other, It suggested
tton of democracy. This confront d US !severely impede the installa-
dil . th e · • eaders with 1 emma. e worse the qualiti f th an unso vable
for military intervention-and ;s ~ e opponent, the greater the need
Climate presented yet anothe essbthe clhance for democratic rule.
s d th er o stac e Carl Sch d h pecte au orities forcefully ar ued th . . urz an ot er re-
democracy; instead they were conJ . at ~he tr~pICs . were unfit for
responsibility. When the U S C uc1ve to lazme_ss, hcenttousness, and ir-
new territorial acquisitions. Ric~:;;~s ;as _considering how to deal with
perate state of South Dak , . . etttgrew, senator from the tem-
h ota, rqected annexation f H …
t e ground that “republics cannot live” . ” . o awau m 1898 on
subsequent debates on Puerto Rico m tro~1cal countries .,, And in
Texas took it upon himself to fc ‘fepresentattve James L. Slayden of
serving that “The T . ormu ate pseudoscientific principles ob-
rop1cs seems to heat the bl d h’J ,
people who inhabit them ,, p 1 h 1· . oo w I e enervating the
. eop e w o ive w1thi tw d
equator, Slayden solemnly concluded ” . th n enty egrees of the
representative government constru d ne1 er comprehend nor support
cte on the Anglo-Saxon plan.”
Obstacles to Democracy: The Problem of Race
More pervasive than concerns abou h. .
character were preoccupatt·o b t istoncal formation and national
. ns a out race. Th · .
related, smce racial compos1·tt· . ese issues were closely mter-
. on was mterpreted
ttonal character. In the view f . as a central feature of na –
o mneteenth-century Amerkarn, ( ;mrl m1m,
The Gospel of Democracy 47
of their descendants), the conviction was unshakeable: nonwhite peoples
were incapable of responsible self-government and were therefore un-
suited to democracy.
The intellectual foundation for this conclusion rested not only on
racial prejudice, as it did, but also upon a hierarchical notion of compe-
tence that reflected and expressed God’s manifest will. At the top of this
pyramid were Anglo-Saxons, the hardiest and strongest of all whites:
“Out of all the inhabitants of the world,” one polemicist boasted in the
Jate nineteenth century, “a select stock, the Saxon, and out of this the
British family, the noblest of the stock, was chosen to people our coun-
try.” John W. Burgess, a well-known professor at Columbia University in
this same era, confirmed as indisputable fact the contemporary notion
that “there are vast differences in political capacity between the races, that
it is the white man’s mission, his duty, and his right to hold the reins of
political power in his own hands for the civilization of the world and the
welfare of mankind.”
Asians of pure heritage, Chinese and Japanese, fell in the middle of
this scheme; so did Spaniards and other southern Europeans. At the bot-
tom were blacks and Indians, widely regarded as hopelessly beyond re-
demption. Mixed-bloods occupied an ambivalent position. Some ob-
servers regarded the mixture of races as a means of uplifting character and
quality over generations; others denounced it as a path to degradation
and perdition. In 1848 the Cincinnati Gazette expressed its considered
opinion that, in general, mixed races “unite in themselves all the faults,
without any of the virtues of their progenitors; as men they are generally
inferior to the pure races, and as members of society they are the worst
class of citizens.” Standards for judgment involved not only racial back-
ground; they also demanded racial purity.
War with Mexico raised the problem of racial assimilation in clear and
forceful fashion. Early in his career James Buchanan had denounced “the
imbecile and indolent Mexican race .” And as debate mounted in the late
1840s over ratification of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the New York
Evening Postwent straight to the heart of the problem:
The Mexicans are Indian.f-Aboriginal Indians . Such Indians as Cortez con-
quered three thousand [sic] years ago, only rendered a little more mischie-
vous by a bastard civilization . The infusion of European blood whatever it is,
and that, too, infused in a highly illegitimate way, is not enough, as we see, to
affect the character of the people. They do not possess the elements of an in-
dependent national existence. . . . Providence has so ordained it, and it is
folly not to recognize the fact. The Mexicans are Aboriginal Indians, and
they must share the destiny of their race .
Whatever its longevity, European and Spanish influence was negligible. As
Indians, the Mexican people were beyond redemption-and therefore
suitable only for conquest and servitude .
At the- ,~;imr: timr:. r;id11r formulation11 nrnvidcd ar!l;umrnt:i for QDDQ~i-
48 The Imperial Era
tion to the war. John C. Calhoun, that redoubtable champion of states’
rights and slavery, foresaw nothing but trouble in the annexation of
Mexico, proclaiming that “we have never dreamt of incorporating into
our Union any but the Caucasian race-the free white race. To incorpo-
rate Mexico, would be the very first instance of the kind, of incorporating
an Indian race. . . . I protest against such a union as that! Ours, sir, is
the Government of a white race.” Only the “free white race” was capable
of democratic government. The United States should therefore resist the
temptation to seize control of Mexico.
Departing from similar racist premises, others came to advocate a
compromise: their solution was to take as much land from Mexico with as
few people as possible. The purpose of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo
was acquisition of territory, according to the Louisville Democrat, not in-
corporation of citizens:
Besides, we have by this treaty, not the best boundary, but all the territory of
value that we can get without taking the people. The people of the settled
parts of Mexico are a negative quantity. We fear the land, minus the people, is
not worth much. We think all Mexico will fall, piece by piece, into this gov-
ernment; but then it must first be settled by a different population, and the
union effected by other means than the sword.
In the long run, the United States could confidently await alteration of the
ethnic composition of Mexican society. With this accomplished the entire
country would fall, “piece by piece,” into the control of the United States.
Racial rearrangements would provide the key to imperial expansion.
Decades later the issue would again emerge. In reference to potential an-
nexation of the Philippines, John W. Daniels, a senator from Virginia, ex-
pressed horror in 1899 over the prospect of assimilating “this mess of Asi-
atic pottage” into American society. Unfazed by such logic, annexationists
turned the racist argument to their own advantage. Filipinos were indeed
“a decadent race,” according to Senator Albert J. Beveridge, but this sim-
ply defined the nature of the imperialist challenge. After Rudyard Kipling’s
notorious ditty on the “White Man’s Burden” appeared in McClure 1s Mag-
azine in 1899, Teddy Roosevelt concluded that it was “very poor poetry
but made good sense from the expansion point of view.” As Roosevelt and
others saw it, the task was to provide tutelage for inferior races to prepare
them for eventual democracy and civilization:
The problem presented to us in the Philippine Islands is akin to, but not ex-
actly like, the problems presented to the other great civilized powers which
have possessions in the Orient. There are points of resemblance in our work
to the work which is being done by the British in India and Egypt, by the
French in Algiers, by the Dutch in Java, by the Russians in Turkestan, by the
Japanese in Formosa .
Empires around the world were engaged in the task of uplifting inferior
races. In this respect, Roosevelt conceded, the United States was just like
any other imperial power.
The Gospel of Democracy 49
As Beveridge asserted, the key political issue in the Philippines and
elsewhere went far beyond the design of constitutions or the creation of
competitive parties. “It is racial,” he said with finality :
God has not been preparing for the English speaking and Teutonic peoples
for a thousand years for nothing but vain and idle self-contemplation and
self-admiration. No! He has made us the master organizers of the world to
establish system where chaos reigns .. . . He has made us adept in govern-
ment that we may administer government among savage and senile peoples .
Here was, indeed, the White Man’s Burden.
Fulfillment of divine obligation nonetheless raised a fundamental
question: how to incorporate the newly subjugated peoples. The prospect
of eventual citizenship ran directly into the problem of race . As Senator
Henry M . Teller of Colorado explained, “I would a great deal rather
make the Philippine Islands a colony, a province, a dependency, or what-
ever you may choose to call it, than to make their inhabitants citizens of
the United States … that they shall stand before the law on an equality
with all other citizens of the United States .” Cuba, with its large black
population, posed an even greater challenge. Southerners were especially
quick to express apprehensions. Benjamin F. Tillman, a rural populist
from South Carolina (fondly known as “Pitchfork Ben”), explained his
opposition to outright annexation after the Spanish-American War in
frankly racist terms:
It was not because we are Democrats, but because we understand and realize
what it is to have two races side by side that cannot mix or mingle without
deterioration and injury to both and the ultimate destruction of the civiliza-
tion of the higher. We of the South have borne this white man’s burden of a
colored race in our midst since their emancipation and before.
The burden, he warned colleagues from the North, would be heavier
than they might expect.
Senators were listening. Orville H . Platt, author of the Platt Amend-
ment, expressed fervent opposition to the incorporation of Cuba because
“The people of Cuba, by reason of race and characteristic, cannot be
easily assimilated by us . . . . Their presence in the American union, as a
state, would be most disturbing.” A few years later John W. Foster, who
had served as secretary of state in 1892-93, would draw a clear connec-
tion between domestic and foreign policies: “With the negro problem in
our Southern States pressing upon us for solution . . . do we desire to
aggravate the situation by adding a million more of the despised race to
our voting population?” Partly in response to such concerns, Cuba was
granted independence-of the most nominal kind-in 1902. There con-
tinued to be occasional talk of annexation or incorporation after a due
process of “Americanization,” but the racial barrier presented a persisting
obstacle. Commenting on an insurrection by Cuban blacks in 1911, one
observer noted that “Cuba may neeq 4~, l;,\H we do not need the (;uhanli,
50 The Imperial Era
They, as a mass, are a degenerate race lacking in all th~ in~tincts of civic
pride or honor and utterly disregarding all moral obligations to them –
selves.” Better to keep a safe distance. . .
In the end, racism bore a paradoxical relationship to U.S. 1mpe~ial-
ism. On the one hand , prejudicial disdain for colored peoples off~red Jus –
tification for the forceful acquisition of influence and territory. Smee the
resident nonwhite population was (by definition) unsuited to develop the
land and construct a civilized society, that obligation-that “burden”-
fell to members of the more highly endowed Anglo-Saxon race. On the
other hand, the presence of nonwhite peoples in newly do~inated lands
posed the unwelcome possibili~ th~t the~ might ha~e- to be mcorp~rat~d
into American society, thus altering its racial composltlon and l~wenng its
quality. Racism thus promoted imperialist expansion by the Uruted States
but also restricted it as well.
It was largely because of these ideological contradictions_ that, by the
turn of the century, U .S. leaders turned away from the outnght anne~a-
tion of territory toward the construction of protectorates and col~me~,
which offered a permanent source of influence; or t~w_ard p~nod1c
episodes of military intervention, which provided regular ( 1f 1′.1term1t~ent)
sources of influence . A commercial empire did not necessanly reqmre a
permanent military or administrative presence. By contrast, invasions and
protectorates would prove cost-effective.
Intervention for Democracy
Between 1898 and 1934 the United States launched more than thirty_ f
military interventions in Latin America. (A~cording to_ one quaint but
telling definition, a military intervention consists of the ~spatch of armed
troo s from one countr to another “for other than ceremotnal pur-
poses.”) ere were varied motivatio11s for ~ese ac:ions. One was the
( 1) protection of U.S. economic interests, especially pr~~ate loans to loc_al
governments. Another was thd.2:fssertion of geopohtJCal hegemony, m
keeping with the ~sev__:!_t __ Co!9llary, thus ass~ring European powers
that they need not medafe in the hemisphere; dunn~ a1:1d after World War
I, protection of the Panama Canal assumed sp~c1a~ ~mportan~e . _In all
cases, the . perpet1:~l _ rati!1~1_i_~~as tha_t, t.h(:JlJ<:i1pous appltca~on of
military force by t'"fje Unit~9: - ~tates would lead to the pr_omouon of
democracy throughout the regio°-_.
This co~ponent of U .S. policy focused exclusively on the great~r
Caribbean Basin, including Mexico and Central Amenca . As s?own_ m
Table 1 the United States launched major operations during this penod
in Cub;, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, Honduras, Mexico, Nic~ragua,
and Panama. (There were threats of intervention on othe~ occas~ons as
well.) Some of these, as in Mexico, were relatively shor:-hved e~1sodes.
Others led to military occupations of several years m durauon. In
‘n ~ ‘.,; …. (r,flrnr nrrnnif”ri thf” rnnntrv illmo:it 1,’.Qnstantly from
The Gospel of D emocracy
Table 1. U.S. Military Interventions in the Caribbean Basin, 1898-1934
Country
•· Costa Rica
Cuba
Dominican Republic
Guatemala
H ai ti
, Honduras
Mexico
Nicaragua
Panama
Interventions
( 1_2U
·- 1898-1902, 1906-1909, 1912, 1917-1922
1903, 1904, 1914, 1916-1924
1920
_1915-1934
1903, 1907, 1911, 1912,1919,1924, 1925
1913, 1914, 1916-1917, 1918-1919
1898, 1899, 1909-1910,1912-1925 1926-1933
1903-1914, 1921,(1925-‘ ‘
si µof
n’V( h
s.A –
51
Source: Adapted from William Appleman Williams, Empire as a Way of Life (New York·
Oxford University Press, 1980), pp. 136-142, 165-167. ·
1909 to 1934; in Haiti, U.S. troops lingered from 1915 to 1934· in the
Dominican Republic, they established military rule from 1916 t~ 1924.
~he basic goal of U .S. policy, as commentators repeatedly said at the
time, was to convert the Caribbean into an “American lake .”
. At the s_a’.11e tim_e, . Washington insisted that it was fulfilling a high-
mmded polmcal m1ss1on. The principal exponent of this view was
Wo~drow Wilson, who eventually defined his purpose in World War I as
maki?g the world safe for democracy. As for the hemisphere , Wilson would
exclaim: “We are the friends of corisi::itutional government in America· we
are mo~~ than i~s friends, we are its champions.” And then he ste~nly
vow~~: ! a~ gomg to teach the So~th Americ~n_ republics to elect good
m~n. V1ewmg __ g~ocracy as a uruversal poss1b11ity, the southern-born
~1lson was implicitly rejecting prejudicial theories about historical reli-
g1ous, geographical limitations on the spread of political civiliz;tion.
Th~ough in_struction, example, and the judicious application of force, even
Latm Amencans could learn the rules of democratic conduct.
Yet the conception of Latin American democracy, even for Wilson had
clear-cut limits . This was a period, it should be remembered, of subst~tial
cons~raints on American democracy: women acquired the right to vote
only~ 1919, organiz~d labor was_struggling to assert itself, and racial seg-
r~gat10n meant the virtual exclusion of blacks from political life. And in
view of popular skepticism about the political capability of Latin Am~ri~an
peo~l~s, t_he Un~t~d States had precious little interest in promoting highly
~a_ruc1p_auv~ polmcs throughout the region. Instead the preference, as po-
litical h1stonan Paul W. Drake has pointed out, was for an “aristocratic re-
p~blic. ”
2
The insistence was on the maintenance oflaw and order. The one
thmg to avoid was mass-based social revolution. One of the nation’s lead-
in~ diplo~atic experts on the region, Adolf A. Berle, Jr., would sum up this
pomt succmctly: “I don’t like revolutions on principle .”
Most U.S . _interv~ntions displayed a consistent pattern . Military
forces would arnve armd i,;on:iidcrahlr. fanfarr· rlrnmr rnlrr~ nfi-f”n mith
52 The Imperial Era
minimal force; install a hand-picked provisional government; supervise
national elections; and then depart, mission accomplished. The political
key to these operations was the holding of elections-which, as tangible
signs of democracy at work, justified both the fact of intervention and the
decision to lift the occupation. UnitectStates supervision of these contests
was often overbearing, sometimes to the point of preselection of the win-
ner, but the holding of elections was an essential step in the process. As
one U.S. ambassador explained to his bewildered British counterparts,
the United States would intervene as necessary in Latin America to “make
’em vote and live by their decisions.” If rebellions follow, “We’ll go in and
make ’em vote again.”
This sequence first took clear shape in 1906, when Teddy Roosevelt
used the Platt Amendment as justification for dispatching troops to Cuba
and installing William Howard Taft as provisional governor. The United
States undert6ok to annul the elections of 1905, enact electoral legisla-
tion, and monitor a vote in 1909. As TR defined the mission to Taft in
1907: “Our businessi~tQestablish peace and order on a satisfactory basis,
start the new government, and then leave the island.” The United States
followed a similar course in Panama, diligently overseeing elections in
1906, 1908, and 1912 (at this point dispatching troops for this purpose).
Nicaragua received the same treatment and provided an opportunity for
expostulation of U.S. policy toward the region as a whole. According to
an official declaration in 1912: “The full measure and extent of our policy
is to assist in the maintenance of republican instit~tio11s. upoi:i:!!iis hemi-
sphere, and we are anxious that the experiment of a government of the
people, for the people, and by the people shall not fail in any republic on
this continent.” Tacit reminiscence of the rolling cadences in Lincoln’s
Gettysburg Address could only serve to emphasize the point.
There were efforts to enshrine promotion of democracy as hemi-
spheric principle. In 1907 an Ecuadorean diplomat named Carlos Tobar
proposed the so-called Tobar Doctrine, under which American nations
would refuse recognition tode facto regiIE:eS that had entered office by
<:ieposing constiti:.itional governments. And-m-·1913 the United States
would propound the Wilson boctri.ne, which went one step farther by
calling for the nonrecognition of all unconstitutional governments in
Latin America. The U.S. stand was resisted by former Argentine foreign
minister Estanislao Zeballos, among others, who saw it as a pretext for
continuing and arbitrary North American intervention in domestic affairs
of the region. Multilateralism did not flourish in this political arena.
Taking Sides: The Mexican Revolution
The outburst in 1910 of a revolutionary movement in Mexico was deeply
disturbing to Washington. American investors had profited handsomely
under the decades-old government of Porfirio Diaz, which had, under the
slogan of “peace and administration,” romoted economic p;rowth and
The Gospel of Democracy 53
political stability. Mexico was a source of special_~<_>ncern t() _t_h5c . .Unitfsi
States-because of its siz<:_,. its importance, arid its geographical proximity.
And as a result of ltS presenceallif power~--the United States exerted con-
siderable influence in Mexican affairs. Uncertain and hesitant, Washing-
ton first resisted the Mexican Revolution and then took halting steps to
direct its political course.
Ambassador Henry Lane Wilson ( no relation to Woodrow) began
overtly meddling in Mexican national politics as early as July )9~.~- Ex-
pressing his contempt for the newly installed government of Francisco
/ Madero, the U.S.-educated idealist who had prompted the overthrow of
~ Diaz, Wilson complained bitterly of “disrespect for constituted authority
. . ·. a defiance of the law . . . lack of respect for property rights, vio-
lence, and rapine …. The laboring classes have quit work,” the diplo-
mat said, “and are making demands . . . a for111idabfe opposition is
springing up against Mr. Madero [who] lacks in that decision of charac-
ter, uniformity of policy, and close insight which is so essential.”
In September 1912 the United States officially protested crimes
against American citizens in Mexico. Ambassador Wilson avidly sought
Madero’s resignation from the presidency and threatened U.S. military
intervention in the event that he refused (President Taft would not, how-
ever, endorse this act of blackmail). Unchastened, tl:!5c _ _a.mbassador_t:._~n
undertook negotiations with Madero’s counterrevolutionary opponents,
Victonaoo Buei:Q_ and Fe§}?iaz. Shortly thereafte~eposed an_d
~urdete~,; While not directly responsible for this assassination,
an accredited U.S. diplomat had campaigned actively against an elected
president of Mexico and expressed no palpable remorse over his demise.
This is not remembered as a happy chapter in U.S.-Mexican relations.
To its credit, the Taft administration withheld recognition from Vic-
toriano Huerta. Woodrow Wilson continued this policy after his election
in November 1912, vowing: “I will not recognize a government of
butchers.” When Huerta refused to succumb to U.S. pressure, President
Wilson in April 1914 lifted an embargo on arms shipments to Mexican
rebels, secured British cooperation for economic sanctions against the
Huerta regime, and authorized a naval occupation of the port of Vera-
cruz. His ultimate goal, Wilson proclaimed, was the installation of “an or-
derly and righteous government in Mexico.”
The action proved counterproductive, as political groups throughout
Mexico denounced the invasion as an unwarranted assault on national
sovereigp.!J. Huerta resigned in July 1914, lTI~~~ -a~~~siiit-~ hi~ d~~~-rio-
rating military position than because of U.S. pressure, and Wilson seized
the face-saving opportunity to withdraw the troops from Veracruz. Per-
haps as a result of this experience, Wilson began to comprehend the com-
plexity of the Mexican situation and the logic behind its revolutionary im-
perative. A year later the U.S. president observed, “The first and most
essential step in settling the affairs of Mexico is not to call general elec-
tions. It seems to me necessary that a governmc::q a y YO on-
54 The Imperial Era
ary in character should take action to institute reforms by decree before
the full forms of the constitution are resumed.” In Mexirn, sgs:ii\Ljµs_!ice
would become a necessary prelude to democracy.
At a later stage in the Mexican Revolution Wilson would dispatch an-
other military mission. Ip.M~_!216armed forces under Pancho Villa,
who was feeling betrayed by lack of U.S. support, conducted a raid on the
otherwise insignificant town of Columbus, New Mexico, killing eighteen
American citizens and burning the town beyond recognrtion. In retalia-
~ tion 1 son au!lched a puru ve expe 1 on under General John J. ( “Black
Jack”) Pershing, who scoured the unhospitable countryside for months in
an unsuccessful ~ffort to apprehend the villainous Villa. The goal of this
expedition was 11ot tq_overtake a government or _Q~e!see elections, how-
ever; it was simply to capture and punish Villa: In early 1917 the fruitless
· expedition was withdrawn, and Pershing was rewarded for his failure with
promotion to leadership of U.S. forces in Europe after Wilson finally en- \p
“(‘(‘\lr~._re ~ vt
tered World War I. r ,’
United States militar res onses to the Mexican Reto!ution had y/ree
~ s: Ill , . cting_pt1_11i~_li._ment on t~nsgressors Hue~ta and vm~, and
. weakening their pgl_itical position; protecting U.S. interests; and pfomot-
ing political stability. What is perhaps most striking about these episodes, in
light of the high stakes involved, was the timidity of U.S. incursions. They
were profoundly offensive to Mexican patriots, understandably so, but they
were remarkably limited in scope. But as other countries in the Caribbean
were discovering, the pursuit of “~cy” bytlie United States
could result in long-term military occupationµ
Dollar Diplomacy I: The Dominican Republic (1916-24)
As implied by the Roosevelt Corollary, the United States expressed con-
tinuing concern over the prospect that European creditors would per-
suade their governments to take military action against financially delin-
quent countries of the Caribbean Basin in order to permit collection on
debts. In this sense, economic instability threatened U.S. designs on con-
solidation of an “American lake.” Military incursions by British, German,
or French forces would clearly undermine U.S. hegemony. To forestall
such possibilities, Washington encouraged U.S. banking concerns to as-
sume the debts of these countries, usually in conformance with explicit
treaties, and promised to assist the financiers in the collection of their pay-
ments. A standard procedure was for U.S. representatives to take charge
of customshouses, which guaranteed timely payment on the rescheduled
debts; a common corollary was long-term military occupation.
The Dominican Republic became one site for this scenario. In 1903
the San Domingo Improvement Company, a New York-based concern,
purchased a public debt owed by the Dominican government to the
Netherlands and, according to the agreement, obtained the right to col-
lect customs. When the Dominican resident decided to appoint his own
The Gospel of Democracy 55
stoms board, the American company appealed to the State Depart-
cuent. As a result of ensuing negotiations, the Dominican Republic
:ought back its debt for $4.5 million-but if it was unable to pay, the
United States could appoint a financial agent to take over the customs.
When payments stopped, rumors began circulating that French and Ital-
ian vessels were on their way to collect their own debts by force. Accord-
ingly, Secretary of State John Hay instructed the U.S. minister in Santo
Domingo, Thomas C. Dawson, to suggest to the Dominican government
that it “request” the United States to take over management of the cus-
tomshouses. The Dominicans reluctantly assented, and Teddy Roosevelt
eventually reached an “executive protocol” in February 1907 stipulating
that the U.S. president would appoint a customs collector for the Do-
minican Republic, the U.S. government would afford military protection,
and the Dominican government would neither increase debts nor lower
taxes without the consent of the United States. Moreover, the American
receiver-general was to pay off the Dominican debt with $20 million bor-
rowed through the brokerage firm of Kuhn, Loeb & Co. To assure its
payments to Kuhn, Loeb, the United States was entitled “to collect cus-
toms for fifty years.” Under the terms of this 1907 agreement, the Na-
tional City Bank of New York agreed to float a subsequent loan of $1.5
million to the Dominican government in 1914.
American financial control led to close political supervision. An upris-
ing in 1911-12 led U.S. representatives to propose, for the sake of sta-
bility, the resignation of a provisional president. In September 1913
William Jennings Bryan, Wilson’s secretary of state, assured Dominican
rulers that the United States would uphold the country’s “lawful authori-
ties.” If rebellious factions took power Washington would withhold
diplomatic recognition and impound the Dominican share of customs re-
ceipts. Amid mounting tension the American minister in Santo Domingo
arranged for new elections, which were held under the watchful eye of
U.S. naval warships.
In 1916 a major insurrection prompted the landing of U.S. marines.
The Dominican congress elected Francisco Henriquez y Carvajal as tem-
porary president, but Washington refused to recognize his government
unless he signed a new treaty granting U.S. control not only of customs
but also of the treasury, the army, and the police. Henriquez y Carbajal
refused, customs payments stopped, and deadlock ensued. In November
1916 Captain H. S. Knapp, in command of the U.S. marines, declared
outright martial law. Knapp summarily ousted Dominican officials, dis-
solved the legislature, forbade elections, levied taxes, imposed censorship,
and declared himself “supreme legislator, supreme judge, and supreme
executor.” This was, in fine, a military dictatorship.
Under the U.S. regime additional bonds followed in 1921 and 1922.
Invoking the 1907 agreement, U.S. naval authorities took it upon them-
selves to assure American bankers that customs duties “shall be collected
ml n i nffki 1 nn int v thr rr, ·nrnt f th Tnitr St t s
56 The Imperial Era
and that the loan now authorized shall have a first lien upon such customs
duties.” Since the 1922 loan was repayable over a twenty-year period, this
implied that the United States would retain control of the Dominican
customshouses until 1942. After another election U.S. troops withdrew
from the country in 1924, but only when the new Dominican leaders
agreed to ratify the acts of the military government and to place the com-
mand of local armed forces under American officers.
Dollar Diplomacy II: Nicaragua (1909-25)
A special consideration about Nicaragua was the ever-present issue of a
transisthmian canal. There were questions about financial stability and
American loans, as in the Dominican Republic, but the prospect of a
waterway tended to dominate the bilateral agenda. Even after comple-
tion of the Panama Canal, Washington continued to express interest in
Nicaragua-if for no other reason than to prevent an extrahemispheric
power from winning a rival concession. United States authorities were
also eager to secure a naval base in the Gulf of Fonseca. Nicaragua en-
tailed security interests.
The Taft administration frequently conveyed displeasure over the rule
in Nicaragua ofJose Santos Zelaya, a Liberal who strongly resisted foreign
control in negotiations over a canal route . In 1909 the capricious Zelaya
ordered the execution of two North American adventurers. Secretary of
State Philander C. Knox denounced Zelaya as “a blot upon the history of
his country” and expelled Nicaragua’s ambassador from the United States .
The following year U.S. support for an anti-Zelaya revolt helped force the
president to resign. Nicaragua was in chaos; the treasury was empty; Euro-
pean creditors were clamoring for payment on their bonds.
In October 1910 the State Department appointed Thomas C . Daw-
son, fresh from his exploits in the Dominican Republic, as a special agent
to Nicaragua with instructions to rehabilitate the nation’s finances and
“to negotiate a loan secured by a percentage of the customs revenues to
be collected according to agreement between the two Governments, but
in such a way as will certainly secure the loan and assure its object.”
Brown Brothers offered to float the Nicaraguan loan. Aboard an Ameri-
can warship, anti-Zelaya leaders consented to the so-called Dawson Pact,
under which the United States would recognize their new Conserva-
tive government under several conditions: a constituent assembly would
elect Juan Jose Estrada president and Adolfo Diaz vice president; a
U.S.-Nicaraguan mixed commission would arbitrate outstanding finan –
cial questions; and a loan would be guaranteed by administration of the
customshouse in ways “satisfactory to both governments.” News about
the Dawson Pact unleashed a storm of controversy in Nicaragua, and the
nation’s constituent assembly promptly adopted a charter expressly
prohibiting such arrangements as the customshouse clause; under pres-
The Gospel of Democracy 57
ure from Washington, Estrada dissolved the assembly and called for new
:lections. Virulent protests forced Estrada to resign in favor of Adolfo
Dfaz. To keep Diaz in office, the United States responded by dispatching
a warship .
By June 1911 a new bilateral agreement specified terms for autho –
rization of $15 million in loans to Nicaragua, reaffirming U.S. control of
customs . Nicaragua also pledged not to alter customs duties without U.S.
approval. The first loan under this accord was floated in September, by
J. and W. Seligman and by Brown Brothers; 51 percent of customs re-
ceipts would go to themselves, for service on the debt, and 49 percent
would go to the government of Nicaragua . In December 1911 Colonel
Clifford D . Ham arrived to take charge of customs, in violation of the
constitution, and in May 1912 the American bankers assumed all liabili-
ties for debts owed to a syndicate in London. In exchange for this favor
the New York financiers insisted on their right to “apply to the United
States for protection against violation of the provisions of this agreement
and for aid in the enforcement thereof.”
Liberals continued to reject Conservative rule. An uprising in July
1912 brought the arrival of U.S. troops under the colorful Smedley Butler
and then led to a full-scale intervention. United States marines crushed the
Liberal insurrection, established order, and oversaw elections-which were
won, not surprisingly, by the congenial Adolfo Diaz . For twenty out of the
next twenty-one years, U.S. marines would remain on Nicaraguan soil.
Combining concerns over debts and the canal route, the Bryan-
Chamorro treaty in February 1916 called for a $3 million payment by the
United States to Nicaragua in return for three concessions: ( 1) the exclu-
sive right to construct a transilhmian canal, (2) a ninety-nine-year lease
on the Great Corn and Little Corn Islands and on a naval base in the Gulf
of Fonseca, and (3) a U.S. option to renew the naval base lease for an ad-
ditional ninety-nine years . The $3 million would enable Nicaragua to pay
off a large share of current debt. And for the United States, according to
Colonel Ham, the Bryan-Chamorro agreement would forever eliminate
“the danger of a foreign power seeking and obtaining those concessions,”
while it also forged “an important link in the chain . . . of preparedness
and national defense, and the protection of our investment in the Panama
Canal.” In 1918 the two countries established a high commission on
finances-with two Americans and one Nicaraguan. In effect, the United
States created a protectorate in Nicaragua.
United States military occupation of Nicaragua led to conflict and
tension . In February 1921 a group of U.S . marines wrecked the offices of
a prominent newspaper. A clash in January 1922 resulted in the death of
four Nicaraguan civilians. After payments to U.S. bankers were completed
in 1924, Washington proceeded the next year to withdraw its troops,
which were replaced by a constabulary-a force that was created, trained,
and officered by Americans.
58 The Imperial Era
Dollar Diplomacy III: Haiti (1915-34)
As the crusading Wilson struggled with problems in Mexico, the Domini-
can Republic, and Nicaragua, he came to launch a long-term occupation
in Haiti. The country was in disarray. With plantations long ago de-
stroyed, wild coffee was the only export crop. The government had no
money and was borrowing from anyone that would lend. Between 1908
and 1915 there were seven presidents and about twenty uprisings and in-
surrections . When President Vilbrun Guillaume Sam was torn limb from
limb by a mob in Port-au-Prince in mid-1915, the U .S. marines invaded.
There were three reasons for the intervention. One had to do with
loans from the ubiquitous National City Bank of New York. The fiscal
agent for the Haitian government was Banque Nationale de la Re –
publique d’Haiti, owned by the Banque de !’Union Parisienne , but the
National City Bank itself possessed a 5 percent share in a new loan of
1910-and served as agent for a number of German and French bond-
holders as well. National City thus had considerable influence within the
Haitian national bank. When the local government showed signs of
defaulting on payments, National City representatives persuaded the
Banque Nationale to withhold payments to the Haitian government-in
hopes of provoking U.S. intervention. After Haitian authorities re-
sponded by issuing paper currency, they tried to retrieve a $2 million de-
posit at the Banque Nationale. Bankers requested assistance from Wash-
ington, and U.S. marines aboard the cruiser Machias seized $500,000
and transported it for safekeeping to the National City Bank in New York.
A second motivation concerned foreign influence. France held the
largest share of Haitian debt and therefore possessed a clear incentive to
invade. At this point in World War I there was, as well, concern that Ger-
many might attempt to take over Haiti. As Secretary of State Robert
Lansing explained to Congress, the U.S . action was ” designed to prevent
the Germans from using Haiti as a submarine base.” In the event, of
course, both France and Germany were much too preoccupied with the
European theater to devote much time or attention to Haiti.
A third concern focused on the Panama Canal, the protection of
which was a national security interest. As in Nicaragua, U.S. authorities
took action in Haiti with an eye toward Panama.
Thus the U.S.S. Washington steamed into Port-au-Prince, over-
saw elections, and assured the victory of the obsequious Philip Sudre
Dartiguenave. By August 1915 the State Department pressed by-now-
familiar treaty terms on the new government: U .S. control of the cus-
tomshouse, U .S. appointment of a financial adviser, a gendarmerie
manned by Haitians but commanded by U.S . officers, and U.S . control
over sanitation and public works. Haiti further agreed not to sell or sur-
render any territory “to any foreign government or power, not to enter
into any treaty or contract with any foreign power or powers that ,vill im-
mir nr tf’nrl tn immir thf’ inrlmf’nrknrr nf H;iiti ” Arni “shrn1lrl thr nr –
The Gospel of D emocracy 59
cessity occur,” according to the document, “the United States will lend
an efficient aid for the preservation of Haitian independence and the
maintenance of a government adequate for the protection of life, prop –
erty and individual liberty.” The treaty was to be in force for ten years, re-
newable for a second term “if, for specific reasons presented by either of
the high contracting parties, the purpose of the Treaty has not been fully
accomplished.” Within a year of its ratification it was extended to 1936 .
Acting through the gendarmerie, the so-called Garde d’Haiti, the
United States erected an indirect form of military rule. In the midst of
constitutional debates, American officers of the gendarmerie dissolved the
national assembly in 1916 and arranged for new elections in 1917. When
the resulting assembly refused to ratify a U .S.-sponsored constitution, re-
portedly drafted by the assistant secretary of the navy, Franklin Delano
Roosevelt, the Garde dissolved thl congress for a second time. To gain
approval for the constitution, U .S. authorities then arranged for a na-
tional plebiscite in June 1918-an utterly farcical exercise that resulted in
the charter’s approbation by a vote of98,294 to 769.
There were puppet presidents, Dartiguenave ( 1915-22) and Louis
Borno (1922-30 ). But the real source of power came from the U .S.
marines. In the words of Paul Douglas, later a distinguished U.S. senator
from Illinois,
The American powers over Haiti are in reality almost complete . American ap-
proval is needed for the enactment of laws , the revenues of the country are
collected under the supervision of Americans, and the budget is drawn up by
the American financial adviser. The financial adviser scrutinizes all vouchers
and withholds payments that he believes to be not in conformity with the
principles of the budget or with efficient administration. The control over the
gendarmerie is in American hands, as are also the services of Health and Pub-
lic Works, and Agriculture. Only Justice and Education are outside of Ameri-
can co ntrol.
Under the terms of additional loans, it became apparent that the United
States might retain control of the Haitian customshouse well into the
1940s.
Indirect rule by American forces promoted precious little progress .
United States-supported governments acquiesced in the imposition of
Jim Crow-style segregation rules and reinstituted the long-hated corvee
law, under which peasants could be drafted for road building. While accu-
mulating a surplus on government accounts, thanks to careful manage-
ment of customs receipts, U.S. authorities concentrated all their energies
on debt repayment, rather than investments in infrastructure and educa-
tion . The United States failed to train a civil service, improve agriculture,
or change the political culture . “In fact,” as historian Robert Rotberg has
observed, “the marine occupation simply prepared Haiti for a renewal of
dictatorship and instability. “3
One justification for extension of the military occupation, and also
for the; inattc;ntiQn tQ dc;mQ~ra~v. ~aw<: from racist doctrine. In 1921
60 The Imperial Era
a U .S. diplomat carefully explained to his superiors key differences be- •
tween Haiti and the Dominican Republic, which American marines
would evacuate in several years:
It is well to distinguish at once between the Dominicans and the Haitians.
The former, while in many ways not advanced far enough for the highest type
of self-government, yet have a preponderance of white blood and culture. •
The Haitians on the other hand are negro for the most part, and, barring a
very few highly educated politicians, are almost in a state of savagery and
complete ignorance. The two situations thus demand different treatment. In
Haiti it is necessary to have as complete a rule within a rule by Americans as
possible. This sort of control will be required for a long period of time, until
the general average of education and enlightenment is raised. In the Domini-
can Republic, on the other hand, I believe we should endeavour to counsel
rather than control.
The political difficulty posed by such racist contentions was that they of-
fered no prospect for a gracious exit by U.S. troops. Here again was the
principal conundrum of contemporary imperialism: how to exert effective
control with minimal administrative and military costs.
Ultimately, the United States would welcome the chance to withdraw
from Haiti. In 1930 Herbert Hoover appointed a joint U.S.-Haitian
commission that recommended Borno’s resignation and new elections,
won by Stenio Vincent (1930-36). A relieved Hoover then began to ex-
pedite withdrawal, and in 1934 Franklin Delano Roosevelt ordered the
complete evacuation of U.S. forces. The financial mission nonetheless
stayed until 1941.
Promoting Democracy?
From the 1830s to the 1930s, despite high-minded rhetoric and ostensi-
ble nobility of purpose, not a single U.S. intervention led to installation
of democracy in Latin America. For Mexico, the political consequence of
military conquest and territorial dismemberment in the 1840s was the ill-
starred importation of a European emperor. (The country would subse-
quently endure civil war and decades of dictatorship, but largely as a re-
sult of internal factors rather than American interference. Similarly, U.S.
intrusions in the 1910s had relatively minor impact on the political course
of the Mexican Revolution.) Fate was no kinder to the islands of the
Caribbean. Under the vigilant eye of the Platt Amendment, Cuba oscil-
lated between episodes of social protest and cosmetic pseudodemocracy
that, in the 1930s, would be followed by long-term authoritarian rule.
Nicaragua and the Dominican Republic would suffer comparable fates.
And Haiti, perhaps the most desperate instance of all, would embark on a
seemingly endless course of dictatorship when U.S. forces finally departed
after nineteen years of military occupation.
There were several explanations for this dismal record. One dealt
with the goals of U.S. policy. Stripped of rhetoric, Washin~ton’s actiqn~
The Gospel of Democracy 61
had geopolitical and economic motivations. A pr!mary purp?se was ~o as-
sert U.S. influence throughout the greater Canbbean Basm and,_ ~n so
d
·ng to reduce if not eliminate the European presence. An additional
m ‘ . .
d related purpose was to protect the business mvestments, especially
:e banking interests, that had become vital instruments of imperial _ex-
pansion. A remarkably virulent condemnation of these_ unlovely motiva-
tions came in 1933 from none other than Smedley Darlmgton Butler, the
flamboyant U.S. marine who reflected back on his career:
I spent thirty-three years … being a high-class muscle man for Big Busi-
ness, for Wall Street and the bankers. In short, I was a racketeer for capital-
ism …. I helped purify Nicaragua for the international banking house of
Brown Brothers in 1909-1912. I helped make Mexico and especially
Tampico safe for American oil interests in 1916. I helped make Haiti and
Cuba a decent place for the National City [Bank] boys to collect revenue in .
I helped in the rape of half a dozen Central American republics for the bene-
fit ofWall Street.
Butler was said to be embittered by his failure to become commandant of
the U.S. Marine Corps. He may also have felt that, in the absence of an
ennobling mission, he and his troops had been abused and deceived.
A second explanation for the failure to achieve democracy derived
from the methods employed by the United States. In keeping with the po-
litical myopia of the era, U.S. occupation forces made little effort to con-
struct, strengthen, or bolster democratic practices or institutions . From
time to time they oversaw elections, sometimes patently fraudulent ones, as
much for the purpose of extricating themselves from unpleasant situations
as for the goal of promoting pluralistic competition. And in each of the
three countries with the longest U .S. occupations-Nicaragua, the Do-
minican Republic, and Haiti-Washington supervised the creation oflocal
constabularies that would eventually become the agents of dictatorial re-
pression. Not only did the United States fail to promote democratic devel-
opment in Latin America; it could even be argued, with considerable rea-
son, that U.S. military interventions tended to retard the prospects for
political democracy.
Third, the paucity of U .S. efforts in this area stemmed from ambiva –
knee. While Woodrow Wilson and his cohorts espoused the universal ap-
plicability of democracy, policymakers in Washington-and U.S. citizens
in general-had severe reservations about the political suitability, capa-
bility, and desirability of Latin American peoples. As a result of history, re-
ligion, and race, many Americans believed, Latin America was incapable
of sustaining true democracy. Rather than waste time and effort on illu-
sory hopes, analysts commonly argued, it made more sense to concentrate
on law and order. The goal of stability thus came to replace the ideal of
democracy. And if stability required an iron hand, that was neither the
fault nor the responsibility of the United States .
From th\’. \’.;trly nineteenth century to the 1930s1 in summary1 the
62 The Imperial Era
United States routinely deployed military power in the name of political ·
demo~racy; From the f?rmulation of “m~fest de~tiny” to the adoption
of Wilson s democratJ.c crusade, American policymakers, legislators
scholars, _and journalists justified the application of power as a means of ,
propagat1.ng the gospel of democracy. It was Herbert Hoover, of all
people, who wo”!d articulate_ the fundamental contradiction underlying
these efforts. Dunng a goodwill tour of South America in 1928, the then-
popular president-elect promised that the United States would be re-
spectful of national sensibilities and would endeavor to promote democ-
racy in Latin America by example rather than by force. In fact, he said
somewhat disingenuously, suppression of neighboring nations would be
foreign to America’s political tradition. “True democracy is not and can-
not be imperialistic .”
3
Mr. Roosevelt’s Neighborhood
That is a new approach that I am talking about to these South
American things. Give them a share. They think they are just as good as
we are and many of them are.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1940)
A new era of colonial ambitions, determined more by economic factors
than strictly political ones, is going to take charge of universal destinies.
Oswaldo Aranha ( 19 3 5)
The decade of the 1930s stands out as a golden era of U .S. relations with
Latin America . President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s proclamation of a
“Good Neighbor” policy marked an abrupt change in U.S. policy toward
the region. Washington withdrew military troops, refrained from inter-
vention, and initiated a process of consultation and cooperation. The
United States began treating Latin American nations as sovereign entities,
rather than subordinates, as equal partners engaged in the collective pro-
motion of hemispheric interests. This new stance promoted goodwill and
mutual respect among countries of the Americas, according to conven-
tional accounts, and its practical consequence was the achievement of
nearly unanimous support for the United States throughout World War
II . Being a Good Neighbor turned out to be good policy.I
There is another way of viewing these events . Within the context of
the Imperial Era, the Good Neighbor policy can be seen not as a depar-
ture from past practices but as the culmination of trends in U.S. policy to-
ward the region. In effect, FDR’s stance reflected a hardheaded sense of
rr.alnnlitik that nromotcd and 1:,rQt\’.c;t~d the lon?;-standinp; U.S. quest for
- img00.4
- img00.7
- img001
- img002
- img003
- img004
- img005
- img006
- img007
- img008
- img009
- img010
- img011
- img012
- img013
- img014
- img016
- img017
- img018
- img019
- img020
- img021
- img022
- img023
- img024
- img025
- img026
- img027