Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

“That may be just as well. The supposition is, however, if you know in what country you expect to find your market the consular service there can give you the most help, because the local conditions are known. If you do not know where to find your market, you should at least familiarize yourself with the Consular Reports, the ‘advance sheets’ of which give the latest news from foreign markets. If you are exporters you will have no difficulty in obtaining these through your Congressmen”.

“Don’t you suppose, Professor, that a handbook of directions to shippers could be prepared by the Government—something to show how goods should be manufactured or packed, as well as cost of transportation, customs duties in foreign ports, etc.”?

“Yes, but you would find your handbook growing to enormous size, until finally it would be no less and no other than the Consular Reports. The trouble is, or has been, that people don’t read these enough. Now, let us get an idea of what such a handbook would contain. What do you manufacture”?

“Farming machinery”.

“Well, now let us suppose you have discovered that there is a market for your merchandise in Argentina. Suppose, too, that the horses in that country are of lighter draft than ours: then your machines must be lightened correspondingly, and this involves a good deal of detail. Again, their soil will differ from that for which you are manufacturing, consequently you may have to change the shape of your plows, or the construction of your harrows, or the size of your drills. Again, one must make sure that the natives can handle intricate machinery before sending any twine-binders, steam-engines, etc. Then, too, you must learn the strong and the weak points of the machinery with which you are to compete. So you see, when it is remembered that we have been considering a few contingencies in regard to only one line of industry, and that, too, in only one country, the sum of the contingencies is enormous. When it comes to cottons or woolens the case is much the same; the width, texture, color, pattern, price—everything which makes goods salable in any one country—must be known, and the advertisements put in a way that appeals to native sentiment and taste. In the Consular Reports you will get the information you need, and you will find it hard to be put in a handbook”.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I haven’t seen much of the Consular Reports”, said one.

“Nor I, either”, said several others, as they turned to go.

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LECTURE
IV

DIPLOMATIC SERVICE.

In 1815 the Congress of Vienna adopted seven rules for the regulation of diplomatic intercourse. The United States was not represented at this historic congress—wasn’t important enough and perhaps wasn’t interested enough; but it has chosen to conform to the rules, nevertheless. The fact that we had nothing to do with the promulgation of these rules and that we are the only power that has since grown into a commanding position, gives us a diplomatic advantage, an independence agreeable to our national ideals and geographical situation. The first of these rules reads as follows:

“Article 1. Diplomatic agents are divided into three classes: That of Ambassadors, legates or nuncios; that of envoys, ministers or other persons accredited to sovereigns; that of chargés d’affaires accredited to ministers for foreign affairs”.

Three years after the Congress of Vienna the Congress of Aix la Chapelle adds an eighth article, which reads as follows:

“Article VIII.—It is agreed that ministers resident accredited to them” (to sovereigns, presumably) “shall form, with respect to their precedence, an intermediate class between ministers of the second class and chargés d’affaires”.

Consequently the classification of our diplomatic officers is as follows:

1. Ambassadors. We do not send or receive legates or nuncios, as there are representatives of the Pope, and to do so would be contrary to our national policy respecting church and state.

2. Envoys, ministers or other persons accredited to sovereigns. This class includes that official with the ridiculously lengthy title of envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary—usually called minister “for short”.

3. Ministers resident, who are usually also consuls general. There are but four of these in our service, and as there is little justification for this grade it will probably some day be abolished.

4. Chargés d’affaires (pronounced shar-zha-daffair), who are not accredited to sovereigns, but to the minister for foreign affairs.

It should be borne in mind that this classification has nothing whatever to do with the transaction of business. All diplomats have essentially the same duties to perform. It is merely a matter of precedence, which was considered much more important at the time of the Vienna congress than it is now. Indeed, there are good reasons for thinking that we have outgrown these distinctions and should straightway abandon them. This much, at least, is apparent to all—that the chief diplomatic officer at every legation ought to be an ambassador, thus making no invidious distinctions between countries.

As it is at present we send ambassadors to the most important countries, envoys extraordinary and ministers plenipotentiary to those that are next important to us, and so on. Thus there are five ambassadors; one each at London, Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg and Mexico respectively, thirty envoys extraordinary and ministers plenipotentiary, four ministers resident, and one who is classed as a chargé d’affaires.

There are secretaries of legation at twenty-three different capitals, who in the absence of their chief may become chargés d’affaires exercising all the functions of a diplomatic officer. At fourteen different capitals there are military or naval attachés, sometimes both, and an interpreter at six of them.

Legation, or embassy, formerly meant the particular business, the errand, so to speak, upon which the ambassador was sent.

These terms are now used more often to designate the officers themselves who are sent on an embassy, and finally by the extension of the term they also mean the official residence of those officers.

American legations as a rule have fewer members than those of other great nations and are much less expensive. The American diplomatic service costs only one fourth as much as the British. Whether or not the result is desirable upon the whole you may judge for yourselves; for while it must be said that we have as a rule been very well served diplomatically, yet on the other hand one direct result of our economy is that only men of wealth can afford to be ambassadors. The cost of living, and especially of entertaining, is so high and the salary is so inadequate that no man in ordinary circumstances can occupy a high diplomatic position where the social requirements are burdensome.

In several cases the parsimony of the Government has been quite contrary to its own best interests. In Central and South America, for instance, where we ought, by all means, to be well represented, the same officer is frequently accredited to two, or even three different countries. Now, no country likes to have a representative of an inferior grade accredited to it, certainly not when a mere change of title would mend the matter, but when it comes to being bunched together with another country or two by a powerful and wealthy neighbor it is almost insulting, and the countries in question show a justifiable resentment. In such countries we will find European nations well represented, and yet we wonder at our own loss of prestige.

PURPOSE.

As long as the nations have any dealings with each other as nations, so long will it be necessary for them to have representatives, honored and trusted by those who receive them as well as those who send them, at each other’s capitals. It might almost be said that they exist for the prevention of business—the business arising from misunderstandings—for their primary duty is, while representing their own nation with dignity and reserve, to cultivate friendly relations with the power to which they are accredited, as far as circumstances will allow. To do this they interpret the public acts of their own government as it wishes to be understood, and are frequently entrusted with large discretionary powers for this purpose. Moreover, they expedite business and help to avoid annoyances in a very large measure. The government at Washington, for instance, wishes to know the attitude of the government at Berlin upon a certain matter without making it too formal or exaggerating its importance, and accordingly application is made at once either to the German ambassador residing at Washington or to the American ambassador in Berlin, either of whom, if it lies within his discretion, gives the desired information. If the whole thing is quietly done, so as to escape general notice, it saves needless wild guessing as to what it all means; and this is greatly to be desired when things are in an acute stage, if not at other times. The recent triumph of the “open door” policy in China was accomplished in this quiet, effective way.

It will be observed that the modern conception of the function of a diplomat makes him a resident of the country of his embassage during the time of his appointment. Moreover, that he is not sent on any stated errand, as for instance, the negotiation of a treaty, or as a member of an international congress. This latter, to be sure, is diplomatic business, but the agents employed are usually termed commissioners.

ORIGIN.

It was in this latter sense, however, that the term ambassador was originally used.

Just when it had its origin it would be hard to say, but it was so far back in antiquity that the sanctity of religion must needs be thrown about the persons of the officials to shield them from violence. In ancient times when an ambassador went to a foreign court he went with a special message, and having delivered it and received a reply, his business was ended and he returned homeward. His official dignity was but little inferior to that of the sovereign. Indeed he represented not only his country but the person of his sovereign, and he was accredited not to any foreign minister, but directly to the sovereign. Hence his visit, especially if friendly, was attended with an elaborate display of pomp and ceremony, the exchange of gifts and courtly compliments, and it would have been a royal sight to have beheld his journey through the

“lovely land ...
Whose loveliness was more resplendent made
By the mere passing of that cavalcade
With plumes and cloaks and housings, and the stir
Of jeweled bridle and of golden spur”.

When he began to stay abroad, some four or five hundred years ago, his purpose was mischievous. He stayed to act as a court spy and intriguer, to find out secrets while keeping his own. A certain diplomat of the seventeenth century is said to have written in praise of his occupation, diplomacy “causes sudden revolutions in great states. It excites hatreds, jealousies and seditions. It arms princes and whole nations against their own interests; it forms leagues and other treaties among sovereigns and peoples whose interests are quite opposed to one another; it destroys those leagues and snaps the closest ties asunder”. There is no doubt as to what this means. It is war—polite war, if you please, where the weapons are deception, hypocrisy, insinuation and innuendo—the meanest kind of war, where cowards may be greater than heroes.

“If they lie to you, lie still more to them”, was the naive instruction given by one sovereign to his ambassadors.

Not to multiply instances on a point where history is unfortunately too full, it is interesting to notice, as some one has pointed out, that with rapid communication by train and by telegraph, court intrigues have gradually died away; for now that the capitals of the world are within “whispering distance” of each other, as it were, ambassadors have assumed a position of secondary importance to the minister for foreign affairs (or in America the Secretary of State), an officer who resides at the home capital.

PRECEDENCE.

Naturally enough, one of the questions of greatest concern at a mediaeval court was that of precedence—who was the biggest man, and the next and so on. Talk about comic opera! In more than one historic instance the question of precedence among diplomats, or the consequent squabbles between their trains of attendants, fairly “out-Herods Herod” in farcicalness. “The Conferences of Ryswyk”, we are told, “were held in a house which seemed to have been built for the purpose, with three separate entrances and every convenience for preventing collisions; but it was found impossible from first to last to sit at the single table in the rooms assigned to the mediators, because no agreement could be come to about the order of sitting; in that room they could only stand; they sat in a circle in another room where there was no table. A Latin protocol, which had been preserved of the proceedings at Nymegen eighteen years before, was produced as a precedent, but in vain; it contained a plan of the room used at Nymegen, showing the arrangement of seats in it, together with the positions of the doors, windows and fireplace—for these things may be important in determining which is the top and which the bottom of a table. A round table was used at Cambray, Soissons and Aix la Chapelle; but even a round table loses its accommodating quality when it is discovered that the place of honor is that opposite the door, and that every place of honor has a right hand and a left.” A quarrel between two ambassadors’ wives has seriously interfered with international negotiations, and a coachman’s obstinacy has added thirty pages to the “Compleate History of the Treaty of Utrecht.”

MODERN DIPLOMACY—CHARACTER.

It is not to be supposed that modern diplomacy has so completely changed character as to lose all of its disagreeable features, for there is still more or less mediaevalism attaching to it—at least if the popular conception be true. And perhaps in some degree it must always be so; for the office is unique in its opportunities as well as its inducements to dissimulate, mislead and misrepresent. In the first place, the diplomat undertakes his mission under secret instructions. The public may know what are the duties of the consular service as fully as the consuls themselves; but not so with the diplomatic service, for to the public it is a closed door. Moreover, our diplomat may reason with himself that business of any kind involving competition is a kind of warfare; that diplomatic business is especially so because it is international, that there is no penalty for the breaking of an international law, and thus he may be led to conclude that “all’s fair in love and war”, especially war.

It may be necessary for some if not all of the members of a legation to maintain a “discreet inquisitiveness”; it certainly is necessary for all to know how to meet indiscreet questions with non-committal answers; yet the finesse of diplomatic intrigue is dangerous ground and British and American diplomats have, in the main, done well to avoid it. The chief of a legation especially should remember that his office is a noble one and should be kept above the stifling air of intrigue; that the dignity of a nation may easily be compromised by the mere suspicion of complicity therein, and that to those among whom he moves he both represents his country officially and typifies his countrymen personally. The American diplomat has gained something of a reputation for going straight at the mark—of leaving no doubt as to the attitude of his government and the policy he is to follow, and is not this the true diplomacy? The ruling purpose should not be to gain one’s point, but to preserve the national dignity while using all honorable means to gain the point.

So much depends upon the manner of a diplomat. Men ordinarily admire and covet a certain plainness and directness of speech which in business may amount even to bluntness. But frankness of speech which in any other occupation might prove only disadvantageous, in diplomacy amounts to a complete disqualification. In business a diplomat must be all ears and no tongue until the time comes for him to speak, then he must know exactly what to say and what not to say. He may feel that every man has a right to an opinion and to the expression of it, but being a diplomat he must remember that his opinion will be regarded as official whether or not he intends it so, and therefore it must be guarded religiously.

In society, somewhat to the contrary, there should be no outward indication of a studied reserve—nothing that would serve as a restraint upon his freedom of movement and conversation. He should be a man of engaging manners, of suave and polite address, and of affability and urbanity in conversation. He should not only be well trained in the usages of good society, but should also thoroughly acquaint himself with the traditional usages and customs, the etiquette of the court where he is to reside.

ACCEPTABILITY.

Since the principal purpose in sending ambassadors is to secure peace by cultivating friendly relations with other governments, it is evidently wise before making an appointment to any country to learn whether the person whom it is expected to send is acceptable to that country. Accordingly it is customary before making the appointment public to make the nomination privately to the foreign government and to express the hope that it will be found acceptable. Even the nominee knows nothing of it, and is thus saved the pain of rejection in case that should occur. If there is no personal objection to the nominee, and if there is no doubt that his country possesses full sovereignty and is therefore entitled to send ambassadors, his government is notified of the fact that he is acceptable; but should there be any objection to him—and sometimes very trifling ones will suffice—his government is notified that he is _persona non grata_ (not an agreeable person), and it proceeds to make other nominations. Not only has the foreign government the right to reject a nominee but also to demand his recall at any time if there is any well grounded dissatisfaction with him. One American ambassador was recalled because complaint was made about his bad manners.

SOVEREIGNTY OF A STATE.

Since the power to send ambassadors is conditioned upon the sovereignty of a state we may be pardoned for a glance at international law for the meaning of sovereignty. The essential attributes of a state are—

(1) Equality—in a legal sense—a small country the equal of a larger
one.
(2) Independence, freedom from all other states.
(3) Sovereignty.
(4) Fixed locality—boundary.
(5) Its people must be organized into a political society.

Woolsey, who mentions the first three only, says that they “cannot exist apart, and perhaps the single conception of sovereignty, or of self-protection, may include them all”. It is “the power of entering into relations with other states and of governing its own subjects”. Thus it follows that no dependency or colony can send a diplomat of any rank whatever.

After the appointment of any one to the diplomatic service, the manner of which will be mentioned later, he must take the oath of allegiance and is then given a pamphlet of printed instructions by the State Department. He is furnished with a letter of credence from the President to the foreign government and is expected to reach his post within a given time, and to stay there until the expiration of his appointment unless he is given special permission to leave. Having reached his destination, he is formally presented to the sovereign, unless he is a chargé d’affaires, makes calls upon his colleagues, and secures his exequatur. It is wise to make an early call upon the dean of the diplomatic body, who is generally the oldest official member of the diplomatic corps, for instruction as to local customs, ceremonies and etiquette.

Our government has generally assumed an attitude of indifference to matters of form and ceremony—an independence which has cost it no little prestige, and its diplomats a great deal of annoyance. It should be granted that forms and ceremonies have their place in diplomatic affairs, and that each court or capital has a right to its own long-established usages. But we have rather been inclined to turn up our noses at such foreign nonsense, forgetting that in matters of form there is sound discretion in the precept, “When in Rome do as the Romans do”. But the government seems to have cared less for the art of being agreeable than for the science of being successful, regardless of the fact that in diplomacy the one is a prerequisite to the other. Two illustrations of this may be given—the appointment of ambassadors and the question of a diplomatic uniform.

It is only within the present decade that the United States has begun to exercise its constitutional right to be represented wherever it chooses by diplomats of the first rank, i. e., ambassadors. Previously its highest representatives abroad were diplomats of the second rank, i. e., ministers, who though thoroughly competent to handle the business were simply out-ranked by every ambassador of every second or third rate power in the world. This we could afford to ignore so far as it is merely a question of sentiment, but when it compels an American diplomat after waiting hours for an audience to give place to any ambassador who happens along, and when it implies an acceptance on our part of a secondary place among the nations, it is sheer nonsense to continue the practice. Our reasons were, first an ambassador is supposed to represent the person of his sovereign, and as we have no sovereign we should have no ambassadors; and second, the office itself was supposed to involve a greater outlay of money and a more gorgeous and elaborate display than was consistent with the simplicity of republican tastes.

As to the diplomatic uniform, which is not the same thing as a court dress, by the way, the same objections have been urged. The mistake that we have made is in assuming that “the rule should emanate from home, and not from abroad”; for while we have an undoubted right to establish our own customs at our national capital, others might be excused for thinking us priggish when we attempt to carry those customs abroad, especially when in defiance of customs in general usage and of long standing. But so it stands recorded in the statutes, that American diplomatic officers shall wear no distinguishing uniform; and as a consequence, at an evening reception in some brilliant foreign capital you will see the diplomatic corps of other nations appropriately distinguished, while the American diplomat appears in the costume worn by the servants and waiters, that is, plain evening dress. What diplomats sometime complain of in this connection is not the lack of distinction, but that they are rather unpleasantly distinguished.

PRIVILEGES.

An ambassador enjoys unusual privileges from the time he enters until the time he leaves the country where he is sent, and these we will now briefly consider. They have been classified under the heads of inviolability and exterritoriality, though they may be considered together.

Inviolability means that “neither public authority nor private persons can use any force or do any violence to him, without offending against the law of nations”. Of course if he attempts any violence toward other individuals he becomes amenable to the local authorities.

Exterritoriality means the right while sojourning in a foreign country to remain subject to the laws of his own, in both criminal and civil jurisdiction.

These privileges are granted because it is thought that an ambassador cannot fully and freely represent his own country if he is liable to be interfered with by the state to which he is accredited. When carried out to their practical application some curious results are reached; for instance—

1. These privileges extend to his goods and his lodgings. “His house is a sanctuary—except in case of a gross crime—for himself and his retinue”. His official papers and archives are inviolate. He cannot shelter any fugitive from law, although even this—the right of asylum—was at one time general.

2. The courtesy of exemption from taxation is usually extended to ambassadors, as well as exemption from duties on all necessary articles of his household.

3. Owing to the inviolability of his property it is hard to collect a debt from an ambassador when he has a mind not to pay—a thing which has happened more than once.

4. The right to his own form of worship is granted to an ambassador and his retinue, even when his religion is not otherwise tolerated by the laws of the land. In this latter case it is sometimes provided that it must be simply “house worship—without bell, organ or other sign indicating to passengers in the street that a chapel is near by”;—“a native of the country cannot attend”, and the “chaplain must not appear abroad in his canonicals”.

5. Exemptions from local jurisdiction apply to the secretary of legation, the chaplain, physician, private secretary and even to domestic servants. They apply even to domestic servants who are natives of the country though in a limited degree.

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Diplomatic Ball

See page 141
]

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6. The jurisdiction of an ambassador over the members of his train is limited to minor matters. A criminal would be sent home for trial, the ambassador collecting and forwarding all the evidence.

I have purposely deferred the subject of the selection of diplomatic officers until after a consideration of the service itself, in order that we may the better understand what is needed in such an officer.

It will be observed that the requirements for a successful diplomat are wholly unlike those for a consul. To be successful in the consular service one must first of all be a good business man. One should have a mind for details, a quick and keen commercial insight, an acquaintance with the material facts of life, and the proper training would be that of the merchant or the journalist, supplemented in some cases by that of the lawyer and jurist. There is a definite, body of information which a consul should have at his command, a body of rules whose authority he must not transgress, and in the transaction of his business if he looks to precedent it is only for present guidance.

The diplomat on the other hand should first of all be a statesman. To belong to the first rank, along with the greatest in the world, he must have the gift of prophecy and the grace to keep it quiet. In the pursuit of a great national ambition he should have wisdom to foresee, genius to plan and tact to execute. His study is of men, the history and the political institutions of men, the history and tendencies of his own times, and the capacities and characteristics of different races. These things are his science, furnishing the basis for his art, that art which Bacon called the highest of all—the art of “working” men. He cannot, in the nature of the case, expect to receive very definite instruction from his government, unless it be upon a specific line of policy and an acquaintance with the treaties between the two countries. Precedents are of value to him as a guide to present action, but more especially as affecting future policy; for a nation’s foreign policy is influential among other nations and satisfactory at home in proportion as it is self-consistent and just. In great international emergencies the diplomat sometimes does the work of a military chieftain, but with these differences: his means are peaceful, his warfare is necessarily in secret, the results are bloodless, and, when all is done, the skill with which he has fought is seldom recognized except by the historian.

Fortunately the practical problem of choosing men for the diplomatic service does not contemplate deeds of such momentous character—at least not for beginners—but it does indicate the magnitude of the scale of operations sometimes carried on by this service which makes history no less than do military campaigns. It is evident, moreover, that no course of study however long can prepare a man for the diplomatic service, except in an elementary way. It goes without saying that such elementary preparation should be made before entering the service, and that it should include among other essentials a knowledge of French, Spanish or German, especially the first which has been called the language of diplomacy.

But after all, the only satisfactory preparation for the diplomatic service is experience. Some years ago the United States began a system, pursued more or less by other nations, of appointing young men to various legations as attachés without salary. In this capacity they became acquainted with diplomats and the “ins and outs” of diplomacy, and incidentally gave their superiors a chance to discover their fitness or unfitness for the service. The advantages of such a system, which has been abandoned except as to the appointment of military and naval attachés, must be apparent to all, and it is hard to see why it should not be reinstated.

In the absence of definite training and knowledge to furnish a basis for examination the diplomatic service is either exceptionally fortunate or exceptionally unfortunate. As long as the good of the service is kept chiefly in view in the selection of candidates, even though the service be regarded as political, it is well that technical knowledge cannot interfere seriously with the appointment of the most promising candidate. On the other hand, when the service is regarded as a legitimate means of rewarding political friends it will suffer all the more for the want of a restraint such as the examination affords, just as with the consular service, only in a greater degree.

Diplomatic officers are more apt to change with the change of administration than are consular officers, for the reason that the service itself is more political in character. Some authorities go so far as to justify the change on the ground that the administration ought to be unrestricted in carrying out its policy, and therefore should be represented abroad by those of its own political faith just as it is in the cabinet. It must be admitted that there is a great deal to justify this contention, but it should be said that the analogy with the President’s cabinet is hardly fair; for in the latter case the parties are the units, and we recognize the right of the stronger party to full executive power; but in the case of the ambassadors the nation is the unit which he represents, not the party. Theoretically the change of diplomatic officials with the change of administration cannot be justified, and practically a sweeping change is certainly demoralizing to our interests. In the most important positions, however, it may sometimes be best that the President be allowed to substitute those of his own party.

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Q. “Are they universally accepted”?

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

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

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

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

A. “Certainly, what have you to say”?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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LECTURE
V

UNCLE SAM AND EXPANSION.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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“No Nation has a right
to remain
in the backwoods”

See page 169.
]

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

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

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

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

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

It should be observed that the Philippine question, coming upon us as it did, all unlooked for and unsought, made our duty all the more unmistakable. No time was given to judge of the capacity of the people for self-government, nor to ask whether ours was the nation to assume sovereignty. We were simply confronted with a situation. The logic of events (or shall we not say the hand of Providence?) had placed upon us a responsibility which, whether desirable or undesirable, we could not shirk. We stood sponsor to the world for the islands, the sovereignty over which we had destroyed. As a question of international law there could be no doubt of our sovereignty.

“But”, says the anti-imperialist, “this is ignoring the rights of the inhabitants”, and then he proceeds in academic fashion to solve the whole problem by a very simple syllogism, thus:

Major premise—All just government is founded upon the consent of the governed.

Minor premise—The natives of the Philippines are in need of a just government.

Conclusion—The Philippines should be left to take care of themselves.