The people of the United States were allowed to believe that it was a piece of good fortune that Dewey’s fleet was in Asiatic waters. As a matter of fact the capture of Manila had been planned long before the Maine was destroyed and the Spanish war begun.

On the afternoon of December 30, 1924, a discussion was held in New York City under the auspices of the League for Industrial Democracy. The subject chosen was American Imperialism, and among the principal speakers on the occasion was the well-known banker, Otto H. Kahn, who spoke on “The Myth of American Imperialism.” Feeling, no doubt, the tremendous significance of his words as a denial that such a force existed, no time was lost in reproducing the address in full, to be widely distributed later by the so-called “Committee of American Business Men.”

Mr. Kahn’s address as printed covered twenty-six pages. Less than half a page is devoted to the Philippine situation, however, and it is interesting to read how he dealt with the subject. He said:

Owing to the limitation of the time available, I cannot enter into the matter of America’s ownership of the Philippines, except to point out that it came to us as an unforeseen incident of the Spanish-American war, unsought and decidedly unwanted, but, having come, it involves a national responsibility which, in self-respect and in duty, we are bound to discharge, and of which we cannot divest ourselves until it is fairly discharged.

This was a sweeping generalization, and yet it was a statement representing the widespread belief today among the Americans unfamiliar with the earlier years of American occupation. Let us, therefore, make a closer examination of that period, so inadequately understood at the time but which can now be studied soberly and with fuller knowledge.

Although when war was declared American thought and purpose were limited to Cuban emancipation, it became apparent that it was impossible thus to limit her action. War knows but one law. The enemy must be attacked and destroyed wherever possible. Hence the prompt occupation of Porto Rico followed, though Porto Rico had not revolted, for the thought of driving a misgoverning country from one island, and leaving her in another close by where a similar situation might later exist was clearly indefensible.

Granting that Spain was to be driven out, what was to be done with Porto Rico? Of course, Cuba was to have her freedom,—she had been promised that. But Porto Rico—somehow the analogy did not fit. The island was smaller, there had been no revolt, and there was great need of a naval station in that locality. But why go further? Only idealists questioned the wisdom of doing it, any other nation would have done it, and so.... Well, that is the way that empires grow!

But there were also the Philippines. And only six hundred miles away lay Admiral Dewey with his fleet loading coal in Hongkong. What a piece of good fortune for the American cause. It was but a matter of hours before Dewey received the order to sail and destroy the enemy fleet.

And yet the most remarkable thing about this naval victory which immediately thrilled the American nation from coast to coast and placed the Philippines definitely on the map was that it did not come unsolicited or unpremeditated. It had been planned months before. Let us see how and why.

When the possibility of war with Spain became generally accepted, Admiral Dewey was in the Gulf of California in command of the Narragansett. As a true naval expert the thought of taking the Philippines came to him.

If war with Spain is declared, the Narragansett will take Manila [he said]. In command of an efficient force in the Far East, with a free hand to act in consequence of being so far away from Washington, I could strike promptly and successfully at the Spanish forces in the Philippines.

This was in the fall of 1897⁠[1]. He thereupon sought the command of the Asiatic squadron, and with Mr. Roosevelt’s aid obtained it⁠[2].

Thus it was that while the indignation of a sympathetic American public was daily increasing at the atrocities in Cuba, Dewey was quietly but efficiently fitting his squadron, firmly determined to capture Manila⁠[3]. He sailed on December 7, 1897, more than two months before the destruction of the Maine, with the eyes of the naval authorities watching him with interest. While lying at anchor in Hongkong there was flashed to him on February 25, 1898, the following significant cable from the then Assistant Secretary of the Navy:

Dewey, Hongkong:

Order the squadron except the Monocacy to Hongkong. Keep full of coal. In the event of declaration of war with Spain, your duty will be to see that the Spanish squadron does not leave the Asiatic coast, and start offensive operations in Philippine Islands. Keep Olympia until further orders.

(Signed) Roosevelt⁠[4].

And yet this was six weeks before war was declared.

The results of the battle in Manila Bay are well known. It literally electrified the American nation. The significance of such a gallant victory could not be over-estimated in the eyes of her citizens. What a horizon had been opened! The stage was set for the beginning of America’s manifest destiny,—entry into world politics,—into world power. This was but natural. In the words of Henry Watterson, it was

the natural impulse of a people full of exultation and pride over the completeness, without precedent in naval war, of the victory that Dewey had achieved with a skill and intrepidity that conferred splendor upon American arms. It was the spontaneous outburst of simplest patriotism to ask that that flag so valiantly planted, might float there forever in memory of the heroes who raised it⁠[5].

There were also challenging voices, urging that the flag should remain.

Who dares halt it now [cried Senator Beveridge], now when history’s largest events are carrying it forward, now when we are at last one people, strong enough for any task, great enough for any glory destiny can bestow? Blind is he who sees not the hand of God in events so vast, so harmonious, so benign.

But glory and power were not the only incentives. If in the face of a sacred pledge to Cuba there had not been wanting counselors who urged the retention of the island for its commercial possibilities, their numbers were now augmented as the movement gained momentum. There was a glamour of romance in the entire project and the spell was difficult to resist. As the Hon. Frank A. Vanderlip, then Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, aptly put it in 1898,—

Together with the islands of the Japanese Empire, since the acquirement of Formosa, the Philippines are the pickets of the Pacific, standing guard at the entrances to trade with the millions of China and Korea, French Indo-China, the Malay Peninsula, and the islands of Indonesia to the south. Australia may even be regarded as in the line of trade. The possession of the Philippines by a progressive, commercial power, if the Nicaragua Canal project should be completed, would change the course of ocean navigation as it concerns a large percentage of the water-borne traffic of the world. The project is alluring. In the undeveloped resources of the Philippines the sanguine radicals see a great opportunity for our genius. They recognize that in a decade we might make a change greater than has been wrought since Magellan’s discovery until the present time. They see great development companies formed to cultivate tobacco and sugar by modern methods, others formed to test the richness of the unknown mineral deposits, and still others to develop transportation or to reap the treasures of the forest.

And so this gentleman, who stood high in the councils of the administration, finally concluded:

We thus see with sudden clearness that some of the most revered of our political maxims have outlived their force [and then adds], a new mainspring ... has become the directing force ... the mainspring of commercialism⁠[6].

Thus began and thus was fostered the campaign for the retention of the Philippines. As a distributing centre, with half the population of the world living within a radius of 3500 miles from Manila, the possession of the islands was indeed “alluring.”

In that proud hour of nation-wide rejoicing accompanied by the vast commercial possibilities which victory had disclosed, the American multitude failed to hear the voice of the Filipinos. To the former annexation meant, and could now mean only annexation like the previous acts of American expansion. No thought was here given to the wishes of the eight million natives in the Islands who, under the rule of Spain, had taken part in thirty-six distinct uprisings as a protest against the cruelties and injustices from which they had suffered in the same manner as had the Cubans.

There had been, of course, vague reports of a revolution then existing in the Philippines just as one had been existing in Cuba. Could not the Islands be turned over to the revolutionists? True, there had been no definite promises such as those made to a nearer neighbor, but should not Spain’s title, if any, be forfeited for the same reasons that her claims to Cuba were being ignored? The Americans whose interests in the occupation sprang purely from altruistic and sympathetic motives thought that the Filipinos were entitled to the same treatment as the Cubans. Could the Filipino rebels have organized an island government of their own? If not, would an American protectorate for a limited number of years have been more plausible? These were natural inquiries, but any reports which might to some extent have answered these questions were not forthcoming. The islands were too far distant,—half the people of the country did not know where they were. Of course, there were those who also believed with good reason that the intervention in Cuba was actuated by purely altruistic motives—that of a helping hand to a weaker nation. Thus, the venerable Senator Hoar, writing many years afterwards about this agitating period, said,

I believed then, and I believe now, that it was our duty to deliver them (the Philippines) from Spain, to protect them against her, or against the cupidity of any other nation until the people could have tried fully the experiment of self-government in which I have little doubt they would have succeeded⁠[7].

But there were also those who, in a spirit of evil ambition, had already decided to retain the Philippines, if retention would benefit the United States. On August 2, 1898, a commissioner was appointed by the Secretary of State to “investigate and report on financial and industrial conditions in the Philippine Islands.” This was eleven days before the capture of Manila. The report that followed by Commissioner Edward Harden and which was sent to the Secretary of the Treasury, covered the field examined as well as the existing conditions permitted. It spoke of the present situation of Philippine industry and predicted the future possibilities that awaited the hand of a modern expert. That regarding Manila hemp, the leading industry of the Islands, specially deserved attention.

Manila hemp [said the report] is used in the manufacture of cordage of a superior class. For ships’ purposes it is superior to any other material considering its cost and wearing qualities.... It is found nowhere else in the world.... There is a great future for this product. There are vast tracts of uncultivated land ... where it flourishes with greatest vigor, and all that is needed is capital and enterprise to open it up⁠[8].

Not apparently content with the preliminary investigations conducted by these executive departments, the President himself decided to take a hand. He therefore dispatched the following cable to Admiral Dewey on August 13, the day after the signing of the protocol ending hostilities:

Dewey, c/o American Consul:

The President desires to receive from you any important information you may have of the Philippines, the desirability of the several islands, the character of their population, coal and other mineral deposits, their harbor and commercial advantages and in a naval and commercial sense which would be the most advantageous.

Allen, Secretary⁠[9].

Of course, these proceedings were not made known to the public at that time. This powerful minority in order to fulfill their imperialistic aims had already embarked on a program unique in its nature and fraught with hazardous consequences, as events later proved. Briefly, their plan was to conceal their well-devised scheme of retention, and should such project be forcibly exposed,—to justify it, all the while pretending to be working solely for the good of the Filipinos. Their real feeling was, however, bluntly expressed by Mr. Denby of McKinley’s first Philippine Commission when he said:

The cold practical question remains: will the possession of these islands benefit us as a nation? If they will not, set them free tomorrow and let their peoples, if they please, cut each other’s throats⁠[10].