The conquest of the Philippines by the United States, 1898-1925

A war of conquest under tropical skies if carried on with scrupulous regard for the rules of civilized warfare should not differ from any other struggle, no matter how bitterly contested. Examination of the casualties in the fiercest struggles of the nineteenth century, for example, show always a striking similarity between the proportion of men killed and the men wounded on the field of battle. Generally this ratio is six to one, or at least five to one, that is to say, for every one man killed in battle five or six victims are wounded.

Thus, for example, in the great Boer War this ratio is substantially borne out. At the battle of Magersfontein there were killed, 171; wounded 691; at Colenso, killed 50; wounded 847. In all the battles waged in British East Africa from October, 1899, to June, 1900, killed 2518; wounded 11,405⁠[1].

If we go back a few years and examine the greatest battles of the Civil War, the ratio is even more accurately shown. Thus, at Antietam where the Federal forces attacked, there were killed 2,010; wounded 9,416; at Fredericksburg where the attack was made under a withering fire of rifle and cannon, killed 1,180; wounded 9,028; at the three day battle of Gettysburg, killed 2,834; wounded 13,709; at Cold Harbor where the carnage was frightful, killed 1,905 wounded 10,570⁠[2].

Thus it is seen that in no war where the usages of civilized warfare have been respected has the number of killed approached the number of wounded more nearly than in these figures. The proportion as shown remains constant—about five wounded to one killed.

Turn now to the Philippine campaign where the aim of the military administration was to be one which would “win the confidence, respect and affection of the inhabitants of the Philippines”⁠[3]. What do the official war records show? Almost the reverse, that is to say that for every Filipino wounded in battle, five were killed. Thus, in northern Luzon whose people, said Secretary of War Root, “received us (United States) with open arms,” the official records show that 1,014 Filipinos were killed and only 95 wounded⁠[4]. Losses by guerrilla warfare in southern Luzon are almost as convincing. There were, from November 1, 1899, to September 1, 1900, 3,227 killed and only 694 wounded. About 2,800 surrendered during this period.

What do these comparative figures of killed and wounded mean? How may they be accounted for? General MacArthur attempted to give an explanation at the time. He said it arose “from the fact that our soldiers are trained in what we call ‘fire discipline,’ that is, target practice. In other words, they know how to shoot.”⁠[5] But with the same breath he freely admits that “the Boer is the best individual marksman in the world.”⁠[6]

Is it to be believed that the best marksmen in the world, opposed to English soldiers who notoriously fought in the open, killed only one in four of the men they hit, whereas the Americans in numerous skirmishes killed every man they hit, and on an average nearly five out of six? The absurdity of such an explanation is heightened by the report of the Inspector-General of the Division, Colonel Garlington, who during the campaign testified that:

Target practice has been, from the necessities of the case, almost entirely neglected. This important part of the modern soldier’s education should receive prompt attention, and be vigorously prosecuted. At present the army is largely composed of new men without practice or skill in shooting⁠[7].

What then is the real explanation? It is found in the statements from the Americans engaged in the contest, officers as well as soldiers. These signed statements were published in the newspapers of America and they all severely indicated the brutality with which the war was being conducted.

Among the first descriptions to reach this country was that from L. F. Adams of Ozark, Missouri. Referring to the first battle of the war, that of February 5, he said:

In the path of the Washington regiment and Battery D of the Sixth Artillery there were 1,008 dead niggers and a great many wounded. We burned all their houses. I don’t know how many men, women and children the Tennessee boys did kill. They would not take any prisoners.

More reliable testimony is furnished by the American war correspondents stationed in the islands. It will be remembered that these men had previously joined in a protest denouncing the censorship of Manila dispatches. The General Manager of the Associated Press ordered an investigation and the reply from one of the correspondents, Robert M. Collins, contained a statement of a conversation held between General Otis and the protesting correspondents en masse. The following is but a sample of it. Said Mr. Collins:

In that connection we reminded him that the stories of looting in soldiers’ letters home had been little, if any exaggerated. Davis and Bass told him they had personally seen our soldiers bayonetting the wounded, and I reminded him that the cutting off of ears of two American soldiers at Damariscotta had been merely retaliation for similar mutilations of dead Filipinos by the Americans.

(No one could possibly tell stronger stories of the looting and blackmailing by our soldiers than Otis has told although he charges it all to the volunteers.)

There has been according to Otis himself, and the personal knowledge of everyone here, a perfect orgy of looting and wanton destruction of property and most outrageous blackmailing of the natives and Chinamen in Manila, and various incidents like the shooting down of several Filipinos for attempting to run from arrest at a cock fight.

Here was then a statement by well-known correspondents. It was no anonymous slander. The witnesses were ready. Now was the time to investigate, to punish the offenders and to institute a reform. But what was done? Nothing so far as the public records show.

The first investigations which finally resulted from the innumerable letters coming from the soldiers themselves, was the case of Charles Brenner, a private in a Kansas regiment. Speaking of the battle of Caloocan, he wrote to his mother:

Company I had taken a few prisoners and stopped. The colonel ordered them up into line time after time, and finally sent Captain Bishop back to start them. Then occurred the hardest sight I ever saw. They had four prisoners and didn’t know what to do with them. They asked Captain Bishop what to do; and he said, “You know the orders,” and four natives fell dead⁠[8].

What did the military authorities do about this accusation as shown by the official records? On June 10, 1899, or four months after the statement was made, Brenner’s letter was referred by General MacArthur’s order to the inspector general of the division for investigation. What did this investigation show? It showed the testimony of several other witnesses that Captain Bishop had admitted giving the orders, that several others had heard the order given by some one, while one witness (Private Putnam) testified that he with others, had done the shooting. Captain Flanders testified that he ordered the prisoners to the rear, and heard some one give the order to shoot them. A lieutenant heard some one say (he thought at the time it was Captain Bishop) “Kill them! damn it, kill them!” Another witness testified that on the day of the battle, “word was passed along the line that orders were to take no prisoners”⁠[9].

Now at least, an investigation had been made and the facts found as a result of it were then reported to the highest authority in the Islands. This investigation conclusively showed at least three things:

1. That a crime had been committed—i.e., the killing of the prisoners.
2. That Private Putnam admitted having done the shooting itself but said that he had done it in obedience to the orders from his superior officer, Captain Bishop.
3. That the remaining evidence incriminating Bishop was very strong.

Arraigned against all this was Bishop’s denial, in the form of a written statement, that he had given such orders.

What steps were taken to punish the guilty parties? This much was done. General Otis believing Captain Bishop’s denial at once recommended that young Brenner, whose letter had brought about the investigation be court-martialled “for writing and conniving at the publication of the article which brought about this investigation” containing a false charge against Captain Bishop⁠[10]. In other words, Otis proposed to punish the soldier whose statement led to the discovery that a crime had in fact been committed, instead of finding and punishing the criminal.

Nor was this all. Otis further recommended that Private Putnam, the man who had admitted that he shot the prisoners, be tried also by court martial, thus urging the punishment of a private for obeying orders but letting the man who gave them go free.

But if Otis had been so tactless in his acts, he was after all saved from the folly of what he proposed to do. The Judge Advocate, Lieut. Col. E. H. Crowder, to whom these recommendations were sent, knew better than to follow them up. He therefore wrote to Otis on July 3, 1899, urging that the matter be dropped, saying:

I am not convinced from a careful reading of this report that Private Brenner has made a false charge against Captain Bishop. It is certain that the evidence is far from conclusive that he did so.

Nor would the Judge Advocate prosecute Private Putnam for slaying the prisoners because, he said, Putnam’s defense “would be the lawful order of his superior officer.” “If put on trial,” added the Judge Advocate, “it is probable that facts would develop implicating many others.” Hence followed his advice to this effect, “I doubt the propriety of this trial, and am of the opinion that considerations of public policy sufficiently grave to silence every other demand require that no further action be taken in this case”⁠[11].

This recommendation was acted upon by Otis. The War Department in Washington followed Otis’ advice and the record stands showing that the highest authorities declined to punish proven acts of barbarity not because the guilt of the accused was in doubt but because it was probable “that facts would develop implicating many others”; not because there was no reason, but because there was too much reason. Nay, the Commander-in-Chief had even actually proposed to punish the witness (Brenner) who had made the crime known, and let the criminal go free. Is it not also probable that this latter mark of severity against the unfortunate Brenner made itself felt throughout the army, and that the word was passed along the ranks, “Whatever you see, it is not safe to tell!” The strange thing is that soldiers did continue to tell with increasing frequency.

During this sad episode of the conquest, however, there were some convictions of both enlisted men as well as officers. Rule No. 44 of General Order 100 strictly provides that

all wanton violence committed against persons in the invaded country; all destruction of property not commanded by the authorized officer; all robbery, all pillage or sacking even after taking a place by main force; all rape, wounding, maiming, or killing of such inhabitants,—are prohibited under penalty of death or such other severe punishment, as may seem adequate for the gravity of the offense.

If the guilty party is an officer, his punishment should naturally be as severe as the military law permits, for misconduct by one in authority is more pernicious and harmful. The Secretary of War’s own memorandum of February 17, 1901, therefore, will be taken and examined⁠[12]. This choice list compiled and made accessible to the public showing the trials of forty-four men, ten of whom were officers, opens to us only so much of the proceedings as the Secretary permits us to see. What does it show?

Of these ten officers, one was tried and convicted for “firing into town and looting.” Under General Order No. 100 Rule 44, such an offense is generally punishable by death. But in this case the officer was sentenced to—a reprimand.

The second officer, Lieut. Bissell Thomas, of the 35th Volunteer Infantry, was convicted for assaulting prisoners and cruelty. The Court furthermore said that the accused’s acts were “very severe and amounted almost to acute torture” and that they “cannot be too much deplored nor too emphatically denounced.” He was sentenced to a “reprimand” and a fine of three hundred dollars.

The third officer was convicted of “looting and encouraging the same,” and the fourth of “permitting looting.” Both were sentenced to—a reprimand.

The next two officers were convicted of “torture by causing natives to be hung by the neck for ten seconds.” The culprits here were a Lieutenant Perkins and a Captain Brandle. In Brandle’s case⁠[13] the Court found as a fact that he did hang two Filipinos by the neck for ten seconds each on May 26, 1900. Disliking the word “torture,” however, the Court substituted the words “inflict mental anguish upon,” as if hanging by the neck were physically delightful. Here was an absolute case of torture found as a fact, yet when the time came for the sentence his brother officers sentenced him to—a reprimand. Which shows how little indignation was felt by the other officers of the army.

The case of Lieutenant Perkins was very similar. He too was found guilty of hanging two natives by the neck in the same fashion. But the military court not only changed the accusation of “torture” to “mental anguish,” but also imposed a sentence of “a reprimand.”

The last conviction was that of First Lieutenant Brown of the 2d Infantry who was found guilty of “killing a prisoner of war.” This was clearly a plain case of murder, but the sentence meted was dismissal from the service and imprisonment for five years. This punishment looks severe in the light of the others, but the record of the case does not stop here, for on January 27, 1902, this sentence was commuted to a loss of thirty-five places in the army list and the forfeiture of one-half pay for nine months. Outside of that the accused was permitted to regain his position in the army.

The remaining three officers tried were acquitted.

Here then were seven convictions of officers standing high in the records of the army, convictions of looting, torture and murder. Here were crimes justly punishable by death in ordinary cases, and yet under tropical skies they resulted in five reprimands, one fine and a reprimand, and one loss of numbers and half pay for a few months. What did this record say to the rest of the army,—what effect could it have produced in checking similar offenses during the campaigning?

This comedy of errors is magnified when we consider the military orders current at that time. On March 19, 1899, no less a personage than General Otis himself, having found it necessary to give more explicit orders for the conduct of his army, issued the following warning:

Commanding generals of divisions will make renewed efforts to impress upon the troops of their commands the necessity of exercising the greatest vigilance to insure the protection of private property, not only in this city, but wherever they may be quartered or acting.... The burning or looting of houses or buildings of any description or the abuse of unarmed citizens will be punished with the utmost severity known to military law⁠[14].

These were indeed strong words,—on paper. For the specific cases we have just touched show that when a few months afterwards Lieutenant Capp fired and looted a town he received “a reprimand,”⁠[15] while Lieutenant Ellison “for looting and encouraging looting” also received the same punishment⁠[16]. “The utmost severity known to military law,” indeed!

From the latter part of 1900 until 1902 no other officer seems to have been convicted,—in fact only one was tried and he for having improper relations with native women. On April 15, 1902, however, we find an order for the court martial of General Smith. Here was a sensational case surely. What do the records show?

General Smith had been in charge of subduing the island of Samar and his first step had been to install a system of reconcentration. For the benefit of those unfamiliar with this drastic term, it should be explained that reconcentration (as practised by Weyler in Cuba and the American commanders in the Philippines) means the establishment of a certain prescribed zone or place where the people of a district may be herded together. The establishment of this zone is announced by proclamation or otherwise some days in advance and all persons must leave their homes and come within this area, there to remain until further orders. All persons found outside that zone are then treated as public enemies.

Such a method of putting down a rebellion is naturally attended with great hardships. Crops are left to ruin, homes are deserted, and the peaceful as well as the active suffer alike. It was the establishment of such camps in Cuba with the attendant horrors that finally led to the Spanish American War. How the practice of reconcentration affected McKinley when the Spaniards practised it in Cuba, may be expressed in his own words:

It was not civilized warfare [he told Congress], but a new and inhuman phase happily unprecedented in the modern history of civilized Christian people.... It was extermination. The only peace it could beget was that of the wilderness and the grave.

“The steps of the White House are slippery with the blood of the reconcentrados,” said Roosevelt. And yet in the Philippines, however, three years after the Filipino-American war was begun and a year after civil government was supposed to be established under the just administration of Governor Taft, and no person supposed to be deprived of “life, liberty or property without due process of law,” reconcentration camps began to flourish.

But General Smith was not tried for establishing these camps, for they were also used in other provinces of the archipelago. In fact, as late as June 1, 1903, the civil government in Manila, headed by Mr. Taft, passed a law permitting the establishment of such camps⁠[17]. Smith’s difficulties instead came about as a result of the method by which he enforced obedience to these orders.

It happened that on November 4, 1901, the Manila Times, an American daily, gave an account of the progress of the military arm in Samar, which then had a population of 250,000. It stated that General Smith had been in that little island for ten days and that his strong policy was already making itself felt. To continue,

He had already ordered all natives to present themselves in certain of the coast towns saying that those who were found outside would be shot and no questions asked. The time limit had expired ... and General Smith was as good as his word. The policy of reconcentration is said to be the most effective thing of the kind ever seen under any flag. All suspects including Spaniards and half-breeds were rounded up in big stockades and kept under guard.

This news item was published in Manila. Surely, it must have come to the attention of General Chaffee or the War Department at the time. But were any steps taken to investigate or to stay the hand of General Smith? None. Nothing was done until February 4, of the following year, 1902, when this statement was brought to the attention of the United States Senate as a result of a petition signed by ex-Senator Edmunds, S. L. Clemens (Mark Twain), some thirty-six professors of the University of Chicago and many other notables in private life. These gentlemen asked that the matter be investigated and that such practices be stopped. Surely the Secretary of War could not plead ignorance to this demand from responsible citizens. But did he take any positive action to investigate or to stop these practices? So far as the record shows, none! The order to try General Smith by court martial was not given till April 15.

The real gravity of the Smith offense would apparently seem to be worse than that pictured in the newspaper item. To quote from Secretary Root’s letter to the President on July 12, he stated that Smith had given the following oral instruction:

“I want no prisoners. I wish you to kill and burn: the more you kill and burn the better you will please me,” and further, that he wanted all persons killed who were capable of bearing arms and in actual hostilities against the United States, and did in reply to a question by Major Waller asking for an age limit, designate the limit as ten years of age.

It will be observed that in this accusation by the Secretary, which is grave enough on its face, the Secretary interpolated the words, “in actual hostilities against the United States,” after the phrase “capable of bearing arms.” But the dispatches which came from Manila in the course of the trial which were never questioned clearly refute that mitigating phrase. For General Smith’s counsel was quoted as saying,

General Smith did give instructions to Major Waller to “kill and burn” and “make Samar a howling wilderness,” and he admits that he wanted everybody killed capable of bearing arms, and that he did specify all over ten years of age, as the Samar boys of that age were equally as dangerous as their elders.

The accused bore his trial like a man. He admitted giving the orders. He did not seek to excuse them on the ground that his words were reckless talk,—on the contrary, he sought to justify them. On the solitary question, therefore, of whether or no he had given the order the reviewing officers of high rank found him guilty and sentenced him “to be admonished.”

Even the Boston Transcript, one of the strongest supporters of the Washington administration, could not refrain from saying that this sentence was “the very lightest penalty that could be awarded for such an offence against humanity and the laws of war,” adding that had the President done no more “the proceedings of the court martial would have been about as effective as firing a blank cartridge against an armed enemy.”

The representatives of the army upon the court martial were, however, satisfied with this blank cartridge.

When these results were transmitted to the Secretary of War, surely there was an opportunity for him to show manly indignation at General Smith’s inhuman order. But instead of that he sought to justify the leniency of the court on the ground that Smith did not really mean what he said and that his subordinates so understood it. This might conceivably sound probable having come from a man like Mr. Root were we not confronted with official reports from Smith’s subordinates in the course of the campaign showing how they really interpreted the command of their superior officer. Said Major Waller on November 23, 1901⁠[18]:

On the march to Liruan the second column, fifty men, under Captain Bears, in accordance with my orders, destroyed all villages and houses, burning in all one hundred and sixty-five.... I wish to go southward a little, destroying all houses and crops, and, if possible, get the rifles from Balangiga. This plan has been explained to the General (Smith), meeting his approval⁠[19].

This, when viewed in the light of a subsequent endorsement by General Smith himself to the effect that the aforementioned Major Waller “carries out my wishes loyally and gallantly,” and recommending that he be awarded another brevet, speaks for itself.

Fire and looting, killing to exterminate, refusal to take prisoners of war,—there are some of the outrages we have found from such official records as are opened to us. What else do we find from other independent and official sources? The Weir charges are the first to attract attention among the many available.

On the tenth of April, 1901, Andrew K. Weir, a private in the Fourth Cavalry, wrote a letter to his uncle, charging Lieutenant Frederick Arnold and Sergeant Edwards of his regiment with outrageous cruelty to a Filipino prisoner who was stripped naked, given the water torture in the most revolting manner, whipped and beaten unmercifully while he was down, kicked, strung up by the thumbs and then his ankles tied and his feet jerked from under him. Young Weir was an eye witness of this cruelty and complained to Lieutenant Arnold, who told him:

When I give a man to Sergeant Edwards, I want information. I do not know how he gets it; but he gets it anyway.

Weir also charged Arnold with cutting a strip from the man’s ankle, attaching it to a piece of wood, and then coiling the flesh up his shin bone; with having an old man held under water until he was unconscious; with tying several times a man to a saddled horse with a few feet of slack, and then making the rider gallop, dragging the victim if he could not keep up. For all these charges, Weir said that he had witnesses.

These serious charges were eventually brought to the attention of the War Department. The matter was thereupon referred for investigation to the inspector general of Northern Luzon. This officer, Captain P. W. West of the Fifth Infantry, subsequently turned in his findings on August 27, 1901, reporting a mass of testimony proving that Weir’s charges were true. The inspector general also added:

I believe that a thorough investigation into this matter will substantiate the charges made by Private Weir, that prisoners were treated in a cruel and harsh manner, and that Lieutenant Arnold winked at this treatment.

Here certainly was an instance where the preliminary reports of an army investigator largely substantiated the charges. But although this report was sent to the Secretary of War on August 27, 1901, he omitted to send it along with his other reports to the Senate on February 17, 1902. The matter would probably have been entirely ignored had not Senator Culberson introduced a resolution asking for these papers. Senator Lodge came to the rescue of the administration, however, by expressing his wish to find out whether a court martial had been ordered. A few days later Secretary Root answered by saying that a court martial had been ordered for Edwards, the sergeant, but not for Arnold, the Lieutenant, but neither he nor anyone else friendly to the administration offered to say when this was done. The only inference that can be drawn is that no court martial had been ordered until Senator Culberson’s motion forced them to do so.

The most unfortunate result of these hideous crimes and the laxity of the discipline with which they were combatted, was the moral effect it had on the American soldiers, failing as it did to check the progress of such inhuman acts under tropical skies. Take the water cure, for example, which was widely used in order to force the native prisoner to divulge information.

An extract in the New York Evening Post of April 8, 1902, describes this method of conducting war most vividly as in distinct violation of the Articles of War.

Says the letter:

But the water cure! If the tortures I’ve mentioned are hellish, the water cure is plain hell. The native is thrown upon the ground, and, while his legs and arms are pinned, his head is raised partially so as to make pouring in the water an easier matter. An attempt to keep the mouth closed is of no avail; a bamboo stick or a pinching of the nose will produce the same effect. And now the water is poured in, and swallow the poor wretch must or strangle. A gallon of water is much but it is followed by a second and a third. By this time the victim is certain his body is about to burst. But he is mistaken, for a fourth and even a fifth gallon are poured in. By this time the body becomes an object frightful to contemplate. While in this condition, speech is impossible, and so the water must be squeezed out of him. This is sometimes allowed to occur naturally, but it is sometimes hastened by pressure, and “sometimes we jump on them to get it out quick,” said a young soldier to me with a smile—a young soldier, a mere boy hardly ten years out of his mother’s lap.... Does it seem possible that cruelty could further go? And what must we think of the fortitude of the native when we learn that many times the “cure” is twice given ere the native yields? I heard of one who took it three times and died.

How often does it happen? is a natural question. No one knows. A sergeant told me he had seen it taken by between two and three hundred, by as many as twenty sometimes in a day. Another had seen eighty. An officer saw four, but knew of its happening two hundred times.

Another phase of the subject merits our attention,—the effect upon the American. The unconcerned way in which the soldiers and civilians speak of the water cure, the exulting way in most cases, is the saddest phase of all.... These things are not lovely, but they are true.

Indeed, what more evidence of this is needed than that even an army judge advocate like Captain Glenn ordered such a water cure and, on being court-martialed and found guilty, was sentenced to pay a fine of fifty dollars, which is one half the fine that may be imposed for spitting on a public street car in Boston!

All these charges and convictions, all these reliable accusations, as well as the official copies of the orders given by General Bell in Batangas and General Smith in Samar directing that the war be conducted in the most rigorous manner possible were known to the Secretary of War. And yet, as if to calm the public conscience which was beginning to hear the cries of agony from the unfortunate victims of military conquest, the Secretary of War issued an official statement on February 17, 1902, to the effect that:

The war in the Philippines has been conducted by the American army with scrupulous regard for the rules of civilized warfare, with careful and genuine consideration for the prisoner and the non-combatant, with self-restraint, and with humanity never surpassed.

Nor was that all. Two months later in his speech at Arlington on Decoration Day, the President himself said:

Determined and unswerving effort must be made to find out every instance of barbarity on the part of our troops, to punish those guilty of it, and to take, if possible, even stronger measures than have already been taken to minimize or prevent the occurrence of all such instances in the future.

What must we think of these words?

Here, then, were two statements carefully and deliberately planned. Coming as they did from two of the most responsible administrators of the nation, the statements circulated widely and served to restrain other indignant citizens from making fruitless protests. The masses throughout the country also took these statements at their face value for it was easy to believe ill of one’s enemies and well of one’s kin. But even such records only as the administration chose to open to us and the censored dispatches from Manila tell an entirely different story.

And now to view the product of American conquest, quietly and with sobriety. The sudden “imperialistic impulse of 1898–1900,” as Viscount Bryce aptly called it, had come to an end⁠[20]. What had it achieved? What was the future? What was to be done with the Philippines?

No one better than Senator Hoar realized the true import of the situation. The following retrospect, perhaps, gives the most illuminating view of the problem. Said Mr. Hoar to the imperialist members of the Senate Chamber:

When Aguinaldo said he did not want war to go on, and that it went on against his wish, he was told by our General that he would not parley with him without total submission. My friend from Wisconsin declared in the Senate that we would have no talk with men with arms in their hands, whether we were right or wrong. The responsibility of everything that has happened since, which he must have foreseen if he knew something of history and human nature, rests upon him and the men who acted with him.

We cannot get rid of this one fact, we cannot escape it and we cannot flinch it. You chose war instead of peace. You chose force instead of conciliation, with full notice that everything that has happened since would happen as a consequence of your decision. Had you made a declaration to Aguinaldo that you would respect their title to independence, and that all you desired was order and to fulfil the treaty and to protect your friends, you would have disarmed that people in a moment....

Instead of that, gentlemen talked of the wealth of the Philippine Islands, and about the advantage to our trade. They sought to dazzle our eyes with nuggets of other men’s gold. Senators declared in the Senate Chamber and on the hustings that the flag never should be hauled down in the Philippine Islands, and those of you who thought otherwise kept silent and entered no disclaimer.... What your fathers said when they founded the republic; the Declaration of Independence; the great leaders of every generation; our century of glorious history, were appealed to in vain. Their lessons fell upon the ears of men dazzled by military glory and delirious with the lust of conquest. I will not repeat them now. My desire is simply to call attention to the practical working of the two doctrines—the doctrine of buying sovereignty or conquering it in battle, and the doctrine of the Declaration of Independence.

For the last three years you have put one of them in force in Cuba and the other in the Philippine Islands. I ask you to think soberly which method, on the whole, you like better. I ask you to compare the cost of war with the cost of peace, of justice with that of injustice, the cost of empire with the cost of republican liberty.... You have tried both, I hope, to your hearts’ content.

Gentlemen talk about sentimentalities, about idealism. They like practical statesmanship better. But, Mr. President, this whole debate for the last four years has been a debate between two kinds of sentimentality....

You, my imperialistic friends, have had your ideals and sentimentalities. One is that the flag shall never be hauled down where it has once floated. Another is that you will not talk or reason with a people with arms in their hands. Another is that sovereignty over an unwilling people may be bought with gold. And another is that sovereignty may be got by force of arms, as the booty of battle or spoils of victory.

What has been the practical statesmanship, which comes from your ideals and sentimentalities? You have wasted six hundred millions of treasure. You have sacrificed nearly ten thousand American lives, the flower of our youth. You have devastated provinces. You have slain uncounted thousands of the people you desire to benefit. You have established reconcentration camps. Your generals are coming home from their harvest, bringing their sheaves with them, in the shape of other thousands of sick and wounded and insane to drag out miserable lives, wrecked in body and mind. You make the American flag in the eyes of a numerous people the emblem of sacrilege in Christian churches, and of the burning of human dwellings, and of the horror of the water torture....

Your practical statesmanship [added Mr. Hoar] has succeeded in converting a people who three years ago were ready to kiss the hem of the garment of the American and to welcome him as a liberator, who thronged after your men after they landed on those islands with benediction and gratitude, into sullen and irreconcilable enemies, possessed of a hatred which centuries cannot eradicate.

And then came this prophecy of the future:

This war, if you call it war, has gone on for three years. It will go on in some form for three hundred years, unless this policy is abandoned. You will undoubtedly have times of peace and quiet, or pretended submission. You will buy men with titles or officers or salaries. You will intimidate cowards. You will get pretended and fawning submission. The land will smile and smile and seem at peace. But the volcano will be there. The lava will break out again. You can never settle this thing until you settle it right⁠[21].

Men and women of today may ask on reading these pages, “Why revive these memories that we would fain obliterate? Why add fuel to the feeling of hostility which the Filipinos may have against us today?” The answer is because no American today can deal with the Philippine problem as it now stands without knowing also the history of the conquest, for what American representatives have done in the past may be done again. It is because with all this history behind him, the President of the United States still asserts that the islands came to us “unsought.”