The Monroe Doctrine and Latin America

IN the Atlantic Monthly for June, 1913, Professor Hiram Bingham discusses the celebrated Monroe Doctrine as ‘An Obsolete Shibboleth.’ Listening to him one would suppose it an elaborate and sterile theory of the past. But the dead are hard to destroy; this policy of intervention and coercion is alive and active. A North-American Senator, Mr. Lodge, is the author of a recent resolution forbidding European nations to purchase land belonging to feeble Spanish republics of the New World. Forced by the logic of his doctrine, might he not endeavor to restrict immigration to the south of the Rio Grande, or even to demand that all Spanish-American loans be henceforth placed in the market of New York, the headquarters of South American finance?

Far from growing antiquated and disappearing, Monroeism is winning new adherents hitherto antagonistic to its influences. In the United States the Democrats are becoming its zealous defenders. They are abandoning their irreproachable attitude of sympathetic neutrality toward the efforts of new peoples. Their enthusiasm now surpasses the ardor of the Republicans, who are naturally inclined to expansion and to war. Henceforth imperialism is destined to form part and parcel of the great national tradition. Its influence depends but little upon rivalry of parties and changes of administration.

After all the discussions of the North-American Senate upon the Panama affair, after the frank acknowledgment of error pronounced by farsighted statesmen, the United States, in its relation to Mexico, is assuming a position which seemed to have lapsed into desuetude: treating this great neighboring nation as if it were a conquered colony; interfering in the melancholy quarrels of this uneasy and unhappy people; sitting in judgment and condemning ex cathedra, with a dangerous assumption of infallibility. And herein lies a new aspect of this old doctrine, so extolled by some, so roundly condemned by others — of powerful guardianship, generous protection, conquest in disguise, according as times and men happen to interpret it. In Europe one could indeed wish that this doctrine were becoming an ‘out-worn shibboleth.’ Every one is familiar with the opinions of the German professor, Hugo Münsterberg, set forth in his book upon the Americans. He condemns ‘the error and the folly of the Monroe Doctrine ’ and he hopes that it will perish from the mere fact of NorthAmerican indifference toward it. But, at the same time, Professor Münsterberg is a sympathetic believer in the efforts at colonization which Europe will make after the abandon men t of t his much-decried defense, and he writes, ‘No Russian or French or Italian colony in South America would ever in the world give rise to a difficulty with the United States through any real opposition of interests.’ Is not this the naïve avowal of an imperialism which feels its hopes thwarted by the protection which the United States persists in granting to the endangered republics?

When Professor Burgess, in his celebrated discourse at Berlin, denounced the haughty policy of his compatriots, the Pan-Germanists were loud in exultation. They coveted the great American continent so jealously guarded against European aggression. The recent discussion between Great Britain and the United States, concerning the free navigation of the Panama Canal, has embittered British imperialists, who are irritated by this ne plus ultra, from which their commercial ambition must suffer. Everywhere there is a general desire to limit or to destroy the application of this theory, formulated a century ago by an audacious executive against a Europe still in the trammels of mysticism and feudalism. In the guise of declarations of idealistic policies, European nations seek to denounce the covetousness and the ambition of an insatiate plutocracy. The Paris Temps recently stated that the acts of President Wilson might perhaps be accounted for by the competition for the possession of rich oil-bearing territories. The newspaper declared that this Puritan idealogue was obeying unwittingly the corrupt pressure of Wall Street, and suggested that a precise title-given to the future war between Mexico and the United States would reveal its true character: that it might, be styled the ‘Oil War,’ after the fashion of the ‘Opium War’ of China.

When North America is under discussion, there is always talk of the menace of the United States, of its political duplicity, and its financial invasion of countries to the South. At the last Pan-American Congress, which met at Buenos Ayres, the delegate from San Domingo, M. Americo Lugo, publicly attacked the hypocritical influence of the United States and the periodic holding of these useless conferences wherein the envoys from Washington sit enthroned, and wherein colorless debates always end in the acceptance of the projects advanced by the NorthAmerican delegation. The disinterestedness of the United States toward Cuba, its quixotic war against Spain, were not sufficient to convince the more distrustful spirits of the advantage of Saxon guardianship. Has not the United States dispensed liberty after the fashion of the heroes of mythology? Has it not cleansed the cities and purged the finances of the marvelous island? Schools, roads, industries,— a splendid impetus along the path of progress had created all these after the long domination of inquisitorial Spain. True, Cuban autonomy was not complete, but under the beneficent guardianship of the great liberating people the republic was to live and to prosper. In San Domingo a treaty made with Washington stipulated for intervention in the island’s finances. Even if Porto Rico is a colony, Cuba and San Domingo are timid republics of the type of t he Australian ‘ Commonwealt h ’ and of other states of precarious liberties. The United States is sovereign in the Antilles, — ‘paramount,’ according to the haughty formula of Mr. Secretary Olney.

Latins do not invariably condemn this insistent pressure of the north — this civilizing mission which does so much toward maintaining internal peace. Even the Dominicans have come to recognize that their revolutions have diminished in importance since the United States declared that the conquering chieftains might no longer loot the national treasury. It is not worth while to squander the moneys raised by loans when their expenditure is audited by the guardian nation. In Cuba, education and hygiene have made rapid strides under American control, and, in spite of the danger of future intervention, liberty in that uneasy island is a respected fact.

But there are limitations of this generous guardianship. It may weigh heavily upon nations when divisions exist. Indeed, it has already overpassed the boundaries of that affectionate intervention which characterized the romantic struggle for Cuban independence. In Panama, in Nicaragua, in the frequent convulsions of Central America, the action of the United States contradicts all its political principles. It divides a country; it favors revolutions; it marches straight toward conquest. In order to make itself mistress of Panama, it improvises a republic and treats the historic rights of Colombia with contempt. Instantly its prestige begins to diminish. The United States no longer ranks among the liberators but among the conquerors. It has forgotten the idealism of the Pilgrim Fathers and has become a violent servant of Caliban. Its action in Mexico assumes the form of a protectorship of the most audacious character. The Panama Canal seems, then, destined to fix the provisional limits of North-American Imperialism. To the South a continent newly severed from the North will for many years, perhaps forever, retain the autonomy which its natives have so boldly won; but to the north of the Canal nothing seems likely to check the progress of the haughty overlord.

It is not true, as Professor Bingham maintains, that amongst the republics which form the A B C Alliance, Argentina, Brazil, and Chile, powerful and solidly organized states, one finds any jealous opposition to the neo-Saxon power — such as would explain, according to Professor Bingham’s theory, the alliance of these ambitious peoples. On the contrary, among these nations, out of range of North-American action, the liveliest sympathy with the politics of the United States is discernible. Chile, of course, has not forgotten the Allsop affair with its disastrous consequences. The humiliation to which this warlike nation was subjected has made her react sharply against that vague sentiment of brotherhood prated of by ill-informed politicians. Brazil and Argentina have always acted in concert with their great sister republic. They have followed her examples; they have admired her statesmen and her institutions; and, in the periodic congresses which convene sometimes at Washington, sometimes at Rio de Janeiro, and sometimes at Buenos Ayres, the nations of Spanish origin have accepted without hesitation the leadership of North America.

It is rather in the ‘zone of influence’ of the United States, between the northern frontier of Mexico and Panama, in the Antilles, in Colombia and in Venezuela, that hatred against the United States has become a popular passion. It is in these territories also that the encroachments of the North Americans are visible, and have often threatened national independence. It would, then, be quite possible to divide Latin-America into two clearly defined zones, according to the state of the political and sentimental relations between these Latin countries and the Saxons across the seas.¹ If you draw a line from the northern boundary of Peru to the river Para in Brazil, and continue it to the distant mouths of the La Plata, you will outline the territory wherein the prestige of the United States has not been lessened. Its politics and its civil methods are admired by statesmen, and one finds only occasional intellectuals who criticize the excesses of North-American imperialism.

As for the perils of this influence to the autonomous development of the Latin republics, one is disposed to see in them only one of those deceptive nightmares which perpetually haunt the tropical imagination. Even Chile, dominated by very definite schemes of its own and by a shrewd materialistic policy, can very readily forget the injuries of her sister republic, and remember only the practical common sense of which they alone in South America are the fortunate possessors. Quite recently, at Buenos Ayres, a former Minister of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Estanislao Zeballos, in the course of a much-quoted speech, misrepresented the part played by the British in securing Argentine independence. He passed over the happy initiative taken by Canning and extolled the policy of Monroe, the true defender of the new republic. He demanded that one of the streets of the beautiful Latin capital should bear the name of the famous president, and selected that very one which the gratitude of his compatriots had already dedicated to the memory of the great Liberal minister. At Rio de Janeiro, a Monroe Palace testifies to the respect of Brazil for this beneficent protectorate of the north.

It is true that an eminent historian and diplomat of Brazil, Mr. de Oliveira Lima, has taken a stand against the allpowerful influence of the New Saxons, in his book, Pan-Americanismo, wherein he writes, ‘ The Monroe Doctrine was invariably in its earlier stages a selfish policy intended to reserve America economically and diplomatically for the most important nation of the American continent. Nevertheless it was by the help of this doctrine that all the other states escaped from the domination of their parent nations in Europe, which were certainly no more monopolistic in their policy than the United States has been.’ But this opinion runs contrary to the general belief of Mr. Lima’s compatriots, and he himself admits that the Monroe Doctrine is ‘a useful instrument to the whole continent so long as it does not undergo alteration, that is to say, so long as, continuing to be an arm of protection, it does not become an arm of guardianship, indeed of domination, by means of territorial annexations.’

But must we see in the Monroe Doctrine merely a formula whose significance has been allowed to lapse? I do not believe it. European expansionists realize that the doctrine creates for them a hard-and-fast limitation of all territorial acquisition, but does not interfere with their economic influence, which is so essential to the development of Latin-America. Professor Bingham writes correctly that, ‘Had it not been for the Monroe Doctrine, the American republics would have found it very much more difficult to maintain their independence during the first three quarters of a century of their career.’ This has reference, however, rather to a moral guarantee than to any practical assistance, for the United States did not defend Peru and Chile in 1866 against the Spanish projects of reconquest, nor did it attempt to shield Argentina, then under the rule of the tyrant, Rosas, from the menace of the French and English navies. When the danger was nearer home, when a foreign prince at the time of the War of Secession in the United States sat on the Mexican throne and planned to found there a ‘liberal empire’ like that of Napoleon III, the republic of the United States grew uneasy and in the name of the classic doctrine took action against the exotic dynasty. Historians have maintained that the French Emperor wished to champion in Mexico the independence of the Latin idea against Saxon guardianship. In thwarting this ambition, the United States did more than simply defend the autonomy of a nation, thenceforward subject to its uncontrolled suzerainty.

Just here occurs the first stigma upon the traditional policy of the United States. It has only pronounced its veto in especial cases, often when its immediate interests were involved. For fifteen years South America in armed rebellion struggled against Spanish rule. Where are the valiant soldiers of North America in the records of 1808 to 1824 ? You will find there Irishmen, Frenchmen, Germans, fighting in the armies which freed the New World from its ancient servitude; but there the United States played no part. It remained indifferent to this great epic mêlée. It did not even hasten to recognize the newly won independence of its ‘sister Republics.’ The French came with their glorious assistance to the American Saxons in their struggle against the mother-country. What a splendid career for a North-American general to become a pioneer in the fierce combats of South America! In their history you will find a Lord Cochrane, an O’Leary, but no captain who came like Lafayette to be the Don Quixote of a noble crusade.

In spite of this estrangement, the Monroe Doctrine is becoming in the sequel a bulwark of South-American independence. The projects of European colonization are vanishing and America, land of the free, is enabled to live far from the lusts of the imperialistic peoples of the Old World. Only, this noble theory is very far from being a stable principle unsusceptible of further growth. It alters continuously; it protects or it bullies; it is a servant of peace or of anarchy. I have made a study of these serious transformations in my book, Latin America. May I recall them here? The Monroe Doctrine is passing from the defensive to intervention, from intervention to the offensive. From a theory which opposes all attempts of Europe to make political changes among the democracies of the New World, —a theory which forbids all acquisition of territory, which opposes all transfer of authority from a weak to a strong power, — is evolved the doctrine of President Polk, who in 1845 decrees the annexation of Texas on account of the fear of foreign intervention. In 1870 President Grant demands the seizure of San Domingo as a measure of national protection — a brand-new corollary of the Monroe Doctrine. President Johnson is greedy to possess Cuba in the name of the ‘ law of political gravitation which forces little states into the maw of great powers.' In 1895, Secretary of State Olney, at the time of the dispute between Great Britain and Venezuela, declares that the United States is, in very fact, sovereign in America. From Monroe to Olney, the doctrine of defense becomes a doctrine of moral guardianship.

And what is more serious still, the very nation which condemns foreign colonial enterprise in the New World, itself takes possession of neighboring territory. The new doctrine of imperialism is grafted upon the outworn theory of moral idealism. An enormous territory is open to the ambition of neoSaxons, and yet they covet Mexican provinces — and actually acquire them in 1848 and 1852. Henceforth Monroeism becomes a doctrine to be looked on with suspicion by the republics which it protects from European expansion. There is even undeserved prejudice against the intentions of the United States, generous as they often are, and the union of the North Saxon and the South Latin is checked or rendered impossible by the very principle which seemed destined to create a great moral confederation stretching from Washington to Buenos Ayres.

The lack of discipline of the Spanish republics, their surly individualism, their Castilian pride, revolt against every infringement of their power and especially against any organized protectorate. There is nothing more difficult to manage than the amour propre of the nations of the south, who look upon any kind of interference as a menace to their independence. They would choose anarchy, destruction even, rather than suffer the unlawful intrusion of any foreign power which ventured to interfere in the internal affairs of a free country. North Americans have often forgotten this attitude of their ‘brothers’ of the south. Likewise, with no consideration for their tempestuous pride, they have carried their influence in southern matters to the point of provoking violent outbursts of nationalism. They make parade of their superiority, and the South Americans, proud of their traditions and their ancient cities, revolt angrily against the wise counsels of the protecting nation.

Like all Latins, the South Americans have a feeling for form, and respect for the proprieties. They are naturally subtle and Byzantine. Nothing ruffles them more than the rudeness of Washington politicians, who scarcely take pains to disguise a certain contempt for these inferior and turbulent peoples. Mr. Roosevelt cynically says, ’I took Panama.’ He believes in the efficacy of the ‘big stick’ in the relations between the two Americas. He is scarcely a psychologist in these matters. It is far easier to get what one wants from these Latin democracies through flattering proposals, through courteous replies, through a delicate, nicely shaded diplomacy. Violence accomplishes nothing beyond the embitterment of the South American temper. The bookish President has ventured to write that the Spanish republics will, perchance, reach the degree of civilization possessed by Portugal. This opinion, which the South American looks upon as contemptuous, is made without regard to the extraordinary progress of Brazil and of Argentina. Such imprudent words make it very difficult for the Saxons and the Latins oversea to understand one another.

The behavior of business men whose desire it is to dominate the finances of South America is another factor in aggravating the readily distrustful attitude of the south for the north. These men are not the aristocrats of the banking world, but commonly mere ignorant adventurers who have made up their minds to despise the southerners; rough business men who have become fomenters of anarchy. They interfere in political disputes; they instigate revolutions in order to obtain from the conquerors huge concessions of land, or railway privileges, or loans calculated to ruin the country. To republics which have no conception of the power and the idealism of the United States, such men as this stand as representatives of a vulgar and immoral nation. They have earned for themselves the troublesome reputation of busybodies. One of these men was told that the Supreme Court of the count ry opposed his projects, and he, without further preliminaries, asked, ‘How much does it cost to buy the Supreme Court? ’ When someone spoke to an unscrupulous banker of the honesty of certain judges, he retorted that honest people always fetch a higher price than the venal. This is the moral preached abroad by Americans who despise the political vagaries of Latin nations. To the perils of internal anarchy they add the still more disquieting danger of financial corruption.

The contempt of politicians, the thwarted ambition of bankers, estrange the southern democracies from the republic which really desires to help their political advancement. So long as the Monroe Doctrine is allowed to pander to the covetousness of some and to the unscrupulousness of others, Pan-Americanism, the dream of a statesman, Mr. Blaine, will make no progress.

But after denouncing the dangerous influence of these two concomitants, political tutelage and imperialism for profit, have we said all that can be usefully said concerning this doctrine? Monroeism can be enlarged. Without losing hold of its historic influence, it can change both its method and its aim. Instead of abandoning this traditional principle, it would be entirely practicable to adapt it to the new social conditions of Latin America. A Colombian diplomatist, Mr. Santiago Perea Triana, in a notable publication, has already made a study of l he transformation of the doctrine of tutelage. According to him, the instinct for spoils has once again established itself among the great European nations who are sharing the plunder of Tripoli and of Morocco. If their ambition does not look with envious eyes upon Latin America, the reason is that there is another doctrine which opposes it, the ‘gift which nations just born into the world find in that cradle of liberty which they have won with so much pain.’ He calls upon South-American nations to make a proclamation in their turn, and to declare solemnly that foreign conquest is henceforth banished from the New World. If the United States, says he, would affirm that it also is in accord with the sovereign republics of the south, that it respects the territorial status quo in this American continent which its own triumphant expansion seems to threaten,² an American system of law would be established, and the union of the two races which govern this huge continent would become a political fact of most far-reaching consequence. We should be face to face, then, with a new Monroeism as the doctrine of American autonomy accepted and proclaimed by all the people oversea, who would agree to protect one another against all future attempts at conquest, and then, in place of this vexing and harassing tutelage, we should have a sturdy declaration of American solidarity.

Even by 1911 these generous plans showed signs of development. The United States, Brazil, and Argentina, through friendly intervention, averted an imminent war between Peru and Ecuador. When they pacified Central America, Mexico came to their aid, and thenceforward their action no longer bore any resemblance to the intrusion of foreigners. It was in the name of a doctrine not only North American, but Pan-American, that the peoples of the New World addressed the powerful nations which stood ready to tear them in pieces. No one then criticized this intervention of the great countries of the New World, of North Saxon and South Latin. The United States played its part; also, — which made its moral influence acceptable, — the Spanish American nations.

Moreover, the celebrated Drago doctrine is only a single consequence of Monroeism, a single economic development of the troublesome old theory. It was an America threatened by creditors which sought this weapon to defend its autonomy. President Monroe had condemned the colonization of American territory by European peoples. The Argentine Minister, Drago, foresaw the possible occupation of the territory of debtor countries as security for the payment of uncertain debts. The protective doctrine became an accepted theory among southern nations in spite of their abhorrence of an AngloSaxon guardianship. With the same idea in mind, during the last Peace Congress at The Hague, the Span is hAmericans succeeded in proving to indifferent Europe that the peoples of Spanish origin also possessed an ideal of their own, a sharply defined individuality and a jealous care for their traditions and their liberty. In principle the Monroe Doctrine is an essential article in the public code of the New World. Two newspapers of Buenos Ayres, La Argentina and La Razón, have come to recognize it as such. In them we read that the United States is ‘ the safeguard of American interests,’ and they praise the North-American republic for the paternal protection which it offers. It is only the brutal expression of the doctrine, the cynical imperialism which is deduced from it, which becomes dangerous to the moral unity of the continent.

The wisest statesmen have no thought of divorcing this doctrine from the future history of America, even when t hey criticize its excesses most severely. If you suppress its moral influence, the relations between Europe and the New World will change on the instant, and the imperialism of conquering nations will awaken to new attempts at colonization, to be checked by the patriotic resistance of the people whose territories are invaded. South-American nations are jealous of one another in spite of their fraternal proposals. The violent spirit of nationalism divides them. It would be difficult indeed to combine them afresh in a single burst of enthusiasm for liberty such as that of a century ago. The powerful republics of Brazil and Argentina are often forgetful of their duties toward nations of the same race which are less rich and less important than they. Mr. Archibald Coolidge, a plain-spoken professor of Harvard University, has seen very clearly the moral danger of this disintegration of interest. The democracy of the North has evidently a sense of organization and of self-discipline. It is in her power to maintain strong and helpful ties between the republics in the south.

In place of a single Policeman State, a number of governments should form a kind of ideal confederation whose beneficent influence would be felt by all the republics. In proportion as new peoples succeeded in establishing their independence, in sloughing off the ancient anarchy and in developing themselves in peace, this union would enlarge and take them to its bosom. It would be a civilizing organization without any definite powers, in which the two great political systems, Saxon and Latin, the United States and its sister republics, would balance each other; and America would find therein a pledge of peace, of solidarity, and of progress. Thus we should avoid the danger of war between homogeneous nations. The richest people would come to the aid of those whose development is still imperfect, and Pan-Americanism would become an actuality.

The United States cannot now shrink into isolation and give up an influence which its power and its wealth amply justify. In proportion as its uncontrolled action presages danger in the affairs of the New World, just so its complete withdrawal from the struggles of South America would work injury to the progress of the still divided countries of the southern continent. The ambitions of Europe and Japan, as well as North-American imperialism, are dangers which keep the Latin countries of the New World in a state of chronic anxiety. The ambitions of t hese several countries run counter to each other, and the struggle between them is a perpetual reassurance of independence to the nations of the Equator and to the south of it. Furthermore, the men of theNorth have a civilizing function to fulfill in a continent wherein they exercise supreme power. If their behavior is disinterested, if they prevent war, if they fertilize these new countries abundantly with the gold of their banks, if they become apostles of peace and international justice, no one will ever forget the grandeur of their political rôle in the world’s polities. We shall inevitably be reminded of France in 1792, the universal liberator of peoples, — a crusade against tyranny.

In considering the behavior of the United States toward its neighbors, we must distinguish quite clearly between its attitude regarding Panama and its policy toward countries south of the Isthmus. In Cuba the United States has respected the liberty which it has bestowed upon this island which has profited so little from its experience; but elsewhere, especially at Panama, many a revolution which it has not condemned, many an example of the lust for advantage, has interfered with the performance of its fine promises. Toward South America its intervention deserves only respect. The purely selfish interest of the United States evidently lay in the acceptance of war and anarchy, in accordance with the classical formula, ‘Divide and rule’; yet the United States has kept the peace. From Panama to the La Plata it is working for the union of the peoples and for civilization.

Here, then, is an aspect of the Monroe Doctrine of perpetual usefulness: the struggle against the wars which threaten to ruin the New World, still poor and thinly populated — intervention with the olive branch. In stimulating the union of South American republics, the United States is at the same time protecting its own commercial interests, menaced by this perpetual turmoil. If its action were to halt there, if it renounced all territorial acquisition and set its face against all interference with the internal affairs of every state, the doctrine so often condemned would seem born anew and no one would dare to criticize its efficacy. Most of all, it is on the score of irregular political practices, of fomenting revolution, that the excessive tutelage of the United States comes in for most widespread condemnation. An Argentine writer, Manuel Ugarte, has summarized this sentiment in the phrase, ‘We wish to be brothers of the North Americans, not their slaves.’ Even if this tutelage were designed to prepare democracies without democratic tradition for self-government after the Saxon method; even if, as in the case of Cuba, it granted partial liberty and provisional privileges, the passionate feeling for independence which is so widespread throughout America would be exceedingly irritated by this rather contemptuous method of education. Great Britain pays more respect to the autonomy of her colonies than the new Saxon democracy is willing to bestow upon the still fragile independence of some American republics. What would be thought of the attitude of a Conservative minister of Great Britain who put a veto on the action of the Socialist government of Australia by dissolving the colonial Parliament, and criticized the laws of the free ‘Commonwealth’? One cannot comprehend the policy which American peoples are often obliged to endure in their relations with Washington.

If from the political point of view the influence of this powerful republic should surely be reduced to the necessary minimum, it should certainly be encouraged from an intellectual and moral point of view. If the behavior of the United States were always disinterested and on the side of civilization, we should in that case better understand the nature of its interventions when they are unselfish and intended to further the cause of civilization. In Latin America, people do not understand the United States. A few offhand judgments often control the decision which leads Latin Americans to antagonism or to unreflecting infatuation. The Americans of the North are thought to be ‘practical people.’ Men say that they are intensely covetous of riches. They have no morality. The business man, always hard and arrogant in mind and brutal in method, is the symbol of the nation. Ideals, dreams, noble ambitions, never stir their breasts. These characteristics of the North American the men of the South, according to their individual ideas, admire or despise. They forget how austere is the grandeur that Americans of the North acquire from their superb idealism, from their strong Puritan tradition, from the lust for gold made subservient to ambition for power and for influence over men. They are ignorant of the mysticism which forever flourishes in the United States, continually creating new sects, the perpetual Christian Renaissance whose energy was so greatly admired by William James. We must admit that in South American countries, with their narrow and superficial religiosity, we do not find this great concern regarding the line which divides t he ideal from the fact. The example of the United States, the reading of its poets, the study of Emerson, the influence of its universit ies, an examination of the part which wealth has played in this democracy would, I conceive, go far toward reforming the bad manners of the South and make it appreciate the true fundamentals of the grandeur of North America.

The United States has often been imitated with no proper conception of the spirit of its institutions, and this imitation has been fraught with misfortune to the Spanish republics. For this reason the federal idea among the nations of South America has served only to divide them the more, and to multiply the anarchy by the number of states created by the federation. Whilst among the neo-Saxons the sovereign states have tightened their bonds and welded themselves into a powerful union, the states of South America have passed from an absolute centralization to a chaotic division. In the same way the presidents of South America govern for a period of four years, after the example of the United States, and their ephemeral rule has been powerless to found a stable régime. It. would be a great gain to South America to be enabled better to understand the social and political aspects of North-American life, to see its strength and its weakness, to appreciate the part played by idealism and the part played by common sense, to understand the disinterestedness and the imperialism, to appraise the ‘big stick’ and the loyalty to an idea. Even to-day South Americans grasp very imperfectly the moral idealism which inspires President Wilson to condemn a government which from its very birth has been bloody as the hands of Lady Macbeth. Latin-American peoples, like sceptical Europe, accept the excuse of reasons of state, of necessary crime, and too often forget the relations between politics and morals.

Professor Bingham maintains that the South Americans consider themselves ‘more nearly akin to the Latin races of Europe than to the cosmopolitan people of the United States.’ If this is true, the prest ige of the guardian republic does not suffer thereby. Men do not love it, but they habitually fear and admire it, and these feelings smooth the way for love. In my book on Latin democracies, I have set forth the contrasts which may easily be established between the Catholicism of the Spanish Americans, the state religion, uniform and formal, and the restless and active Protestantism of the United States: between the mixture of races in the South, and that racial pride, ‘the white man’s burden,’which controls northern opinion. It would be very easy to push this analysis further and to set forth the strength of aristocratic prejudices among the Spaniards and the very definite democratic spirit which exists among the Saxons; to contrast the idealism of the North with the less vast, less generous ambition of the South; or the stanch, puritanical domestic life among the South Americans with a certain license of morals which exists in North America.³ But, in spite of this sharp contrast, there are resemblances not less evident than the divergent traits, an Americanism which gives a certain unity to the entire New World. All evidence points to the conclusion that if the United States acts in accord with Latin America, if the Monroe Doctrine loses its aggressive character, the influence of these twenty nations will be a force in the world’s progress which cannot be despised.

There are certain general principles, like democracy and arbitration, which are scarcely disputed in America. Two eminent professors, Mr. W. R. Shepherd and Mr. L. S. Rowe, have acknowledged that the idea of arbitration as a judicial means of deciding international differences, owes its origin to Bolivar, the Liberator of the New World. This principle has become American: all the republics accept it, and, in a magnificent burst of impulsive ardor, Mr. Taft wished to impose the principle upon Europe. Self-conscious classes, proud of the privilege of caste, do not exist in this young continent, open to world-wide influences. No religious prejudice over here halts the mingling of races. In Buenos Ayres, just as in New York, the foreigner who throws off his allegiance to Spain or to Great Britain becomes a patriot. The continent is the smelting-pot of all immigrant races. Analogous intellectual interests are preëminent in the North and in the South, with no preliminary agreement, no subjection of Latin America to the influence of the United States. Poetry sings of the race and its exploits, liberty, and life. We South Americans also have our Walt Whitmans. Social sciences throughout the whole continent have made greater progress than metaphysics and theology. Rivals of Giddings and Lester Ward teach in South-American universities, and over against the work of Wheaton we can set the work of Calvo. Pragmatism, the philosophy of North America, is also the philosophy of Spanish South America, and, in the books of Alberdi, a sociologist of Argentina, we find thoughts to which William James and his disciples subscribed half a century later. We are forced, then, to believe in the definite relationship between the physical order and the moral order. The New World has a geography and a policy which give it genuine originality as compared with Europe.

And the New World must become conscious of this individuality. It must be proud of it. It must come to a full realization of the usefulness of an understanding between the Saxons and the Latins overseas, as races complementary each to each. The Latins must learn to appreciate the United States more fully and to judge it more fairly. On its part the United States must renounce all aggressive policies and must give over a Monroeism at once rigid and perilous. Then it will be possible to apply to the whole continent of America the verses of Walt Whitman upon democracy, whose epic poet he was, when he said of his countrymen,