The Consequences of Hostilities Between the States

We have established that in case of disunion the separate states, or whatever confederacies formed from the wreck of the union, would swing between peace and war, friendship and enmity, like all neighboring nations under no common government. I will now trace some of the consequences of that situation.

War between the states, in the first period of their separate existence, would bring far greater distress than war brings in countries with long-established military systems. Europe’s disciplined standing armies, though they menace liberty and economy, have made sudden conquest impracticable, and the art of fortification serves the same end. The nations there are ringed with chains of fortified places that obstruct invasion, so whole campaigns are wasted reducing two or three frontier garrisons to gain entry into an enemy’s country. An invading army once reached the heart of a neighboring country as fast as news of its approach; now a small defensive force of disciplined troops, aided by such posts, can frustrate a much larger one. War in that part of the world is no longer a story of nations subdued and empires overturned, but of towns taken and retaken, battles that decide nothing, and much effort for little gain. In this country the scene would be altogether reversed. Jealousy of military establishments would postpone them as long as possible, and the lack of fortifications would leave every state’s frontier open to invasion. The populous states would overrun their less populous neighbors with little difficulty, and conquests would be as easy to make as they would be difficult to hold. War would therefore be roving and predatory, for plunder and devastation always march in the train of irregular troops, and its chief calamities would fall on private citizens.

This picture is not overdrawn, though I confess it would not long stay accurate. Safety from external danger is the most powerful director of national conduct; even an ardent love of liberty will, in time, give way to its demands. The destruction of life and property in war, and the ceaseless alarm of constant danger, will compel even the most liberty-loving nations to seek rest and security in institutions that tend to destroy their civil and political rights. To be more safe, they at length become willing to risk being less free.

The institutions I mean are chiefly standing armies and their attendant military establishments. Critics observe that the new Constitution does not forbid standing armies, and they infer that such armies may exist under it; yet on that argument’s own terms, their existence is at most doubtful and uncertain. The reply is that disunion would make standing armies inevitable, for frequent war and constant fear of it demand equally constant preparation.

The weaker states or confederacies would resort to them first, hoping to offset smaller populations and fewer resources with disciplined troops and fortifications, and so put themselves on an equal footing with stronger neighbors. They would also have to strengthen the executive arm of government, and their constitutions would move step by step toward monarchy. It is the nature of war to increase the executive at the expense of the legislative authority.

These expedients would soon give the states or confederacies that used them a superiority over their neighbors. Small states with vigorous governments and disciplined armies have often triumphed over larger states that lacked those advantages. But neither the pride nor the safety of the more important states would let them submit long to this humiliating superiority; they would quickly adopt the same means to recover their lost pre-eminence. In a short time we would see established in every part of this country the same engines of despotism that have been the scourge of the Old World. This, at least, is the natural course of things. These are not vague guesses about defects in a Constitution whose whole power rests with the people and their representatives, but solid conclusions drawn from the natural and necessary progress of human affairs.

Someone may object: why did standing armies not spring up out of the quarrels that so often distracted the ancient republics of Greece? The industrious habits of modern people, absorbed in the pursuit of gain and devoted to agriculture and commerce, are incompatible with a nation of soldiers, which is what those republics truly were. And the growth of revenue through gold, silver, and industry, joined with the modern science of finance, has produced an entire revolution in the system of war. Disciplined armies, distinct from the body of citizens, are now the inseparable companions of frequent hostility.

There is also a wide difference between armies in a country rarely exposed to invasion and in one often invaded and always fearing it. Rulers of the first have no good pretext, even if so inclined, to keep armies as large as the second must maintain. Because such armies are rarely called out for internal defense, the people are never broken to military subordination. The laws are not bent to military needs, and the civil state keeps its full vigor, uncorrupted by the military spirit. The smallness of the army also leaves the natural strength of the community an overmatch for it. Citizens who never learn to look to the military for protection, or submit to its oppressions, neither love nor fear the soldiery; they tolerate it as a necessary evil, ready to resist any power aimed at their rights. Such an army can help the magistrate suppress a faction or an occasional mob, but it cannot enforce encroachments against the united strength of the whole people.

In a country under constant threat of invasion, the opposite happens: the government must keep armies numerous enough for instant defense. The constant need for their services raises the soldier and degrades the citizen; the military state rises above the civil. People whose land is often a theater of war suffer constant infringements of their rights, which weakens their sense of those rights, until they come to see the soldiery not only as protectors but as superiors. From there it is neither a distant nor a difficult step to seeing them as masters. A people in that state of mind is hard to rouse into bold or effective resistance against usurpations backed by military power.

The kingdom of Great Britain falls within the first description. Its island position and powerful navy guard it so well against invasion that it has never needed a large army at home. A force sufficient to check a sudden landing until the militia can rally has been all that policy demanded or public opinion would tolerate. This happy situation has done much to preserve the liberty that country enjoys to this day, despite its widespread venality and corruption. If Britain had instead sat on the continent, she would have been forced to keep military establishments at home as extensive as those of the other great powers of Europe. Like them, she would in all probability now be the victim of the absolute power of a single man. The people of that island may possibly be enslaved by other causes, but not by the strength of an army as small as the one usually kept within the kingdom.

If we are wise enough to preserve the Union, we may for ages enjoy an advantage like that of an island nation. Europe is far away, and her colonies near us will probably remain too weak to give us any dangerous trouble. In that position, extensive military establishments cannot be necessary to our security. But if we are disunited, whether the parts stand alone or, more probably, are thrown into two or three confederacies, we will soon be in the predicament of the continental powers of Europe. Our liberties would become prey to the very means of defending ourselves against one another’s ambition and jealousy. This idea is not superficial or futile but solid and weighty; it deserves the serious consideration of every prudent and honest man, whatever his party. If such men pause and weigh it calmly, tracing it to all its consequences, they will not hesitate to give up trivial objections to a Constitution whose rejection would most likely end the Union. The airy phantoms that flit before the heated imaginations of some of its opponents would quickly give way to dangers that are real, certain, and formidable. I will examine the objection about standing armies fully in its proper place. There I will show that the only natural precaution that could be taken has been taken, a better guard than any constitution previously framed in America provides, since most provide no guard at all.