Trump, McKinley, and US imperialism in Asia

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥, 𝟓 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟗𝟎𝟐: “𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧.” 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞.

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The American president responsible for setting the United States down the path of imperialist conquest was William McKinley. The Republican Party candidate for President in 1896, McKinley ran on a platform of high tariffs to promote the interests of American corporations. His campaign was the first in US history to run with massive financial support from major capitalist interests.

In his second inaugural address on January 20, President Donald Trump called McKinley a “great president,” and announced that he was reimposing McKinley’s name on Mt. Denali, the highest peak in North America. Trump has repeatedly praised McKinley and clearly sees the long dead president as a model. Trump hailed McKinley as a president of tariffs and a “natural businessman” who made possible the construction of the Panama Canal under his successor Theodore Roosevelt.

Trump’s admiration for McKinley is apt. Trump speaks openly of colonizing Gaza, of the territorial annexation of Greenland and Panama, and wields tariffs as an instrument of economic warfare to browbeat rival powers into submission to the dictates of American capitalism. The presidency of McKinley was the fulcrum in the transformation of the United States into an imperialist power. It was under McKinley, that the United States annexed Hawaii in 1898, took Guam, Cuba, and Puerto Rico in the Spanish-American War, and launched a war of conquest in the Philippines that continued long after McKinley himself was dead.

More than any other of his policies, it is through the Philippine-American War that the ghost of McKinley still stalks the West Wing. A war of indiscriminate slaughter, institutionalized torture, and concentration camps, it was a crime that can measure up to the terrible proportions of the century that it opened.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐒 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦

The Philippine-American War was born of the Spanish-American War. The American capitalist class, hungry for expansion and territorial annexation, saw in the death throes of the Spanish empire, in the revolutions in Cuba and the Philippines, an easy entrance onto the world stage. A public outcry over human rights against the repressive Spanish rulers was whipped up by the yellow journalism of American papers.

The mysterious explosion of a US Naval ship in Havana harbor in February 1898 was followed by accusations of Spanish mines and the slogan “Remember the Maine!” McKinley sent America to war. The Spanish colonies of Guam, Cuba, and Puerto Rico fell like overripe fruit into the basket of American empire.

US Commodore George Dewey sailed to Manila Bay at the outbreak of the war. His defeat of the dilapidated and aged Spanish fleet, in which one American sailor died of heatstroke, was hailed a great victory in Washington. Within a month, books were being published in the United States entitled: “Our New Possessions. Eldorado of the Orient.”

Rosa Luxemburg in 𝙍𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙤𝙧 𝙍𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, her masterful polemic against revisionism published in 1900, wrote of “two extremely important phenomena of contemporary social life: on the one hand, the policy of tariff barriers, and on the other, militarism.” She explained the role of tariffs in the era of McKinley: “[A] protectionist tariff on any commodity necessarily results in raising the cost of production of other commodities inside the country. It therefore impedes industrial development. But this is not so from the viewpoint of the interests of the capitalist class. While industry does not need tariff barriers for its development, the entrepreneurs need tariffs to protect their markets. This signifies that at present tariffs no longer serve as a means of protecting a developing capitalist section against a more advanced section. They are now the arm used by one national group of capitalists against another group.”

Militarism—imperialist war—was the inevitable outgrowth of this economic warfare. It was on the basis of this logic that in May 1898, Senators Henry Cabot Lodge and Stephen Elkins visited McKinley and urged him to turn the Philippines into a US colony. The Boston Evening Transcript published the substance of their remarks to the President:

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘶𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘐𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘶𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘮, 𝘪𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘤𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.

These were the economic motives of US imperialism: to seize from its rivals as large a sphere of economic control for American capitalism as possible. This drive was focused above all on China. Sen. Albert Beveridge in a speech to the legislature in January 1900, with the war of conquest in the Philippines less than a year old, made explicit the aims of US imperialism in Asia. It remains relevant, for while the data have changed, the motive has not; it is worth quoting at length.

𝘔𝘳 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, “𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴,” 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢’𝘴 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘰. 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. …

𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘈𝘴𝘪𝘢. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯. 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘌𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘶𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴, 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴? 𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘎𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺, 𝘰𝘳 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘵. . . .

𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢’𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 $285,738,300 𝘪𝘯 1897, 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳, 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 9 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘺 𝘶𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 50 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢’𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 340 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 20,000 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯?

From the inception of US empire, the Philippines was conceived of by the United States as its foothold for control of Asia, and above all the vast markets of China, against rival imperialist powers. But while these were actual engines of empire, McKinley justified America’s colonial enterprise in Asia in the language of racist paternalism and evangelical Christianity. Speaking to a delegation of Methodist church leaders in November 1899, McKinley spun his decision to conquer the Philippines:

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. … 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺—𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦: (1) 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯—𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦; (2) 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘎𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺—𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵—𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦; (3) 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴—𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘨𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵—𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯’𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 (4) 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥’𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸-𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 (𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘱-𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴…

This policy of conquest, pinning the Philippines to the map of the United States, McKinley termed “benevolent assimilation.”

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜

It was not the guns of Dewey’s fleet, but two years of bitter fighting by Filipino revolutionaries that won the Philippines independence from Spain. When the Americans arrived, the Spanish forces had retreated to within the walled city of Intramuros in Manila, surrounded by the forces of the revolution. The Spaniards signaled to Dewey that they would surrender, but not to the Filipinos. The Americans and Spanish, ostensibly at war, met and secretly arranged to stage a mock battle for control of Manila, transferring control of the walled city from a dying colonial to a rising imperialist power. They had a common enemy: the population outside the walls.

Under the leadership of Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo, the Filipinos proclaimed their independence from Spain on June 12, 1898. Drawing heavily on the American Declaration of Independence, the assembled Filipinos declared:

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵; 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯; 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘞𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘐𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰,

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘋𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳.

Aware of the discussion in the United States that the Philippines was a new possession, and that the justification for this was the Filipinos’ supposed “unfitness” for self-government, the revolutionaries rapidly set about drawing up a constitution and setting up the administrative apparatus of the new Philippine Republic. At the center of these efforts was a man named Apolinario Mabini. The son of an impoverished peasant family, Mabini had by dint of extraordinary effort worked his way through university and become a lawyer. He was fluent in multiple languages and became the intellectual guiding force of the Philippine revolution. Inspired by the American and French revolutions, he was a man of science and the secular Enlightenment. He was stricken by polio in his twenties, paralyzed from the waist down, and had to be carried in a hammock from battlefield to battlefield during the war with the Americans. Captured, he refused to swear allegiance to Washington and was exiled to Guam.

The Constitution of the Republic granted universal male suffrage, made state-funded public education through high school mandatory for all Filipinos, contained a clause explicitly separating Church and State, and enshrined the principle of birthright citizenship. Anyone born to a Filipino parent, or born in the Philippines, or naturalized in the Philippines was a citizen. The revolutionaries declared that they were confiscating the vast landholdings of the Catholic church for public use.

The American conquerors tore up the constitution of the Republic, imposed the Chinese Exclusion Act of the United States on their new colony, and when, in 1935, they finally granted their colony a constitution, they made citizenship a matter of race. That definition stands to this day and has excluded generations of immigrants from citizenship, most particularly the vulnerable population of Chinese Filipinos. In 1906 the United States returned to the Roman Catholic church all lands confiscated by the revolutionaries.

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

These self-governing people, “unfit for self-government,” were purchased by the United States from Spain with the Treaty of Paris on December 10, 1898, for the sum of $20 million. Not a bad price; the United States bought itself a colony for a little less than $3 a head. The treaty went before the US Senate for ratification. The deadline for a vote was February 6 and it was uncertain if McKinley could swing the needed vote of a two-thirds majority.

Tensions between the armed patrols of American forces within Manila and the Philippine forces surrounding them were razor sharp. On the night of February 4, an American sentry fired on a Filipino sentry and conflict erupted. The Americans burst out of Manila overwhelming the Filipino lines, bombarding their trenches with repeating rifle and artillery fire. Dewey sailed up the Pasig river and pounded the trenches with shells. The outbreak of the war secured the approval of McKinley’s treaty in the Senate a day later by a margin of one vote.

It proved a peculiarly American war, dealing death, mayhem and catastrophe on the population in the name of “human rights” and “democracy.” Mass murder and imperialist plunder were committed with protestations of the noblest intentions.

The Filipino forces, many barefoot and poorly armed, fought with immense courage. Motivated by political ideals and the desire to be free, they cited the American declaration of independence—that all men are created equal—and they were shot down by US troops.

The early months of the war were a grotesquely lopsided struggle. US forces were armed with Krag bolt-action rifles, Filipino troops often only with bolos. The trenches of the Filipino forces were scenes of carnage. The corpses of the valiant defenders of the republic were left to rot.

What quickly became apparent to the American commanders was that the political sympathies of almost everyone they sought to colonize lay with the revolutionary troops and the Republic. Gen. Arthur MacArthur, who became commander of the US forces in the war and who was the father of Douglas MacArthur, wrote of “the almost complete unity of action of the entire native population.”

McKinley ordered more troops to the Philippines, then yet more. By 1900, 70,000 US troops occupied a nation at war to keep its freedom. Gen. Aguinaldo, president of the Republic, commanded the Philippine army, adopting a strategy of guerrilla warfare. Historian Luzviminda Francisco, in an article entitled “The First Vietnam,” wrote that “Lack of firearms indeed continued to be the single most pressing issue for the Filipinos.” She estimated that “only one partisan in four was actually armed.”

The Americans declared the Filipino combatants “bandits,” who were not to be accorded the rights of prisoners of war, and turned to the tools of counter-insurgency: torture, the reconcentration of large populations, and the execution of prisoners.

US soldiers administer the “water cure” torture [Photo: UN National Archive]
American troops interrogated Filipinos with a form of torture they adopted from the Spanish, the “water cure.” They forced prisoners, both soldiers and civilians, to drink gallons of water and then trampled on their swollen abdomens. Many prisoners died of burst innards.

American naval vessels shelled coastal communities; the US Army burned villages to the ground. The populations of entire islands were ordered into concentration camps, a policy known as reconcentrado.

Angered at the death of 54 American soldiers in an ambush, General Jacob Smith told his troops in the province of Samar “I want you to kill and burn, the more you kill and burn the more you will please me … make Samar a howling wilderness.” When asked to set an age limit for killing, he answered, “Everyone over ten.” All of the inhabitants of Samar, a population of over 250,000 people, were relocated to concentration camps. Those outside the camps were killed. Smith was brought before a US court-martial to stand trial for his orders. He was found guilty of “conduct to the prejudice of good order,” sentenced to be “admonished,” and quietly retired.

The people of the provinces of Batangas, Marinduque, Albay, and elsewhere, were also forced into concentration camps. The area outside the camps was known as the “dead line” and any Filipino outside it would be shot on sight. Agricultural production came to a standstill. In Batangas, Gen Franklin Bell ordered all property outside the dead line put to the torch. Francisco recorded that, “According to statistics compiled by US Government officials, by the time Bell was finished at least 100,000 people had been killed or died in Batangas alone as a direct result of the scorched-earth policies, and the enormous dent in the population of the province (which was reduced by a third) is reflected in the census figures.”

The reconcentrated population, tens of thousands of men, women and children crowded together in a wasteland of makeshift huts, had no access to sanitation, adequate nutrition or medical care. An incalculable number, well over 100,000, died of cholera, typhoid, dysentery, beriberi, and malaria as a direct result. Malnutrition turned to starvation; surviving historical photographs of gaunt, slat-ribbed Filipinos in American concentration camps serve as visible evidence.

The US War Department censored press dispatches, keeping the American public in the dark about the war waged in their name. At home, Thomas Edison used his recently developed film studio in New Jersey to produce war propaganda reels for the government. The US population eventually learned of the reality of the conduct of the war from letters sent home by soldiers.

In the United States, opposition to the war was organized in the Anti-Imperialist League. In his monumental 1916 work, Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism, Lenin aptly characterized the League as “the last of the Mohicans of bourgeois democracy,” but stated that as long as their criticism “shrank from recognising the inseverable bond between imperialism and the trusts, and, therefore, between imperialism and the foundations of capitalism, while it shrank from joining the forces engendered by large-scale capitalism and its development, it remained a ‘pious wish.’”

The most eloquent of American critics of American imperialism was Mark Twain. He wrote of the impact of empire on democracy in the United States:

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘓𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬. 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦; 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴-𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵.

Imperialism, in the precise phrase of Lenin, is “reaction down the line.” The apparatus designed by US imperialism for the coercion, surveillance, and policing of the colonized Filipinos was quickly redeployed within the United States against the labor movement and political radicals and revolutionaries, as historian Alfred McCoy extensively documented in his work, Policing America’s Empire. Col. Ralph van Deman, head of Army intelligence in the Philippines, was made head of the Military Intelligence Division in the United States responsible for surveilling the American population for suspected sedition under the Espionage Act of 1917. He created the vast vigilante network of domestic informers and spies in the American Protection League. He is but one example among thousands of “reaction down the line.”

Aguinaldo was captured in March 1901. Six months later, McKinley was “benevolently assimilated” by an anarchist’s bullet. Theodore Roosevelt became president of the United States. On July 4, 1902, he declared the war in the Philippines over. Guerrilla fighting continued over the course of nearly a decade, led by such figures as Gen Miguel Malvar and Gen Macario Sakay.


Bud Dajo massacre, 1906 [Photo: US National Archives]
1906 found US troops still actively reconcentrating and waging war on the people of the southern island of Mindanao. In March, an entire village fled before advancing US troops, seeking shelter in the crater of a nearby dormant volcano known as Bud Dajo. With repeating rifles, Gatling guns and heavy artillery, the American troops opened fire from the rim of the volcano on the defenseless villagers huddled below. Of the estimated 1,000 men, women, and children who sheltered in the crater, six survived. Corpses were piled five feet high. President Roosevelt wired his congratulations to the commanding American General.

Donald Trump is not unfamiliar with the bloodshed of the Philippine-American War. In a fascistic speech delivered in 2016, he cited with immense enthusiasm an apocryphal story of how Gen Pershing finally subdued Mindanao by executing Muslim prisoners with bullets dipped in pig’s blood.

How many Filipinos died as a result of the American war of occupation? The most conservative estimate is 200,000, a figure that is certainly too small. Gen. Bell, who commanded the concentration camp policy in Batangas, estimated to the New York Times a death toll of 600,000 on the island of Luzon. A figure for the entire Philippines that begins to approach 1 million is likely near to the truth.

Conclusion
On the bones of the Filipino dead, Washington built its “showcase of democracy in Asia.” The showcase has served ever since as the staging ground for US imperialism in Asia. In 1900, it was from the Philippines that the United States intervened in crushing the Boxer Rebellion and joined in the imperialist carve-up of China. It was from the Philippines that in the 1950s Washington staged a secret and illegal bombing campaign against Indonesia. A decade later, US military bases in the Philippines serviced the carpet bombing of Vietnam and Cambodia. The early US advisors in Vietnam, the CIA operatives who laid the foundation for Washington’s bloody, protracted imperialist war, all were trained in the Philippines. The relationship continues to this day. Last year, the United States deployed the intermediate range Typhon missile launcher system to the northern Philippines with the capacity to target all of China.

Washington sustained its “showcase” with espionage and imperialist machinations, selecting and deposing presidents. When US interests could no longer be preserved through the trappings of democracy, Washington funded and endorsed the brutal dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos.

The Philippine-American War is little remembered in either the Philippines or the United States. The US government termed the entire bloody affair an “insurrection.” The Filipinos had been purchased for $20 million. They were in rebellion against the duly constituted government of the United States. To this day, many of the documents of the Philippine Republic are kept in the US National Archives under the label “Philippine Insurrection.”

The victorious American colonizers wrote the first history textbooks for the Philippine public school system, and the conquerors became “liberators.” American capital flooded the colonial economy, seeking profit. The capital city still bears the colonial imprint. Taft Avenue runs through Manila, and the rich reside in Forbes Park. The US president and ambassador will invariably speak, in tones of condescension, of the countries’ historic ties. They are ties that were forged with bloodshed.

This is what is invoked when Trump speaks of his admiration for McKinley. He is expressing his desire—the desire of the rapacious American oligarchy—to return to open colonial rule and the conquest and annexation of territories. His insistent enthusiasm for McKinley must be taken as a warning.

The parallels to the present are striking: economic warfare and territorial annexation to secure for American capitalism control over markets for investment and exploitation. Now as then, China is the fixation of Washington, not merely as a threat to American global economic dominance but also as a prize to be carved up, a land whose vast wealth can be pillaged, with a labor force a billion strong waiting to be exploited. Trump’s moves to annex Greenland, to seize Panama, to take Canada, express the same fundamental logic as McKinley’s seizure of the Philippines: He seeks a staging ground for war with China.

But while the logic of imperialist expansion is inexorable in its continuity, a century and a quarter have passed, and the world has been qualitatively and fundamentally altered.

The wealth of the oligarchs has grown beyond the wildest fantasies of the robber barons from the era of McKinley. In 1909, the Sugar Trust, an economic and political behemoth, had a capital of $90 million, a bit over $3 billion in 2025 dollars. Today, one man, Elon Musk, has an estimated wealth of slightly less than $400 billion dollars. This is more than a change in magnitude. The modern oligarchy sits atop a mountain built of over a century’s compound interest in human misery, class exploitation and imperialist plunder. They have been schooled in rapine and will allow nothing, not even nuclear destruction, to stand in the way of profit.

As in the era of McKinley, imperialist war is twin to the repression of the working class. But again, the scale now is far more vast, surveillance insinuated into every aspect of social life, the capacity for censorship expanded to a degree unimaginable. Where McKinley and his successors undermined and carved away at civil liberties and democratic rights, Trump seeks to scrap them entirely.

There is a final difference, and it is decisive. McKinley expressed the ambitions of US empire on the rise; Trump, the desperation of its decline. McKinley’s tawdry democratic pretenses have been thrown aside. Trump presents the world with the openly fascist face of American empire.

We are no longer in the age of the Anti-Imperialist League, however, of opposition to colonialism as a “pious wish.” The twentieth century revealed, above all in the October revolution of 1917, the only viable method of anti-imperialist struggle: the international solidarity and mobilization of the working class for the overthrow of capitalism.