SOURCE: Garrity, Patrick J. “Foreign Policy and The Federalist.” In Saving the Revolution: The Federalist Papers and the American Founding, edited by Charles R. Kesler, pp. 83-99. New York: The Free Press, 1987.

[In the following essay, Garrity looks at the formation of early American foreign policy as revealed in The Federalist Papers.]

In the first volume of his memoirs, Henry Kissinger reflects upon those traditions of American foreign policy that stand in the way of a more realistic approach to the preservation of U.S. national interests. Because of our geographic remoteness and the shield provided by British sea power during the nineteenth century, Kissinger tells us, “Americans came to consider the isolation conferred by two great oceans as the normal pattern of foreign relations. Rather arrogantly we ascribed our security entirely to the superiority of our beliefs rather than to the weight of our power or the fortunate accidents of history and geography.” The United States' belated interventions in the two great Eurasian wars of this century are said by Kissinger to have come about more from passion and idealism than from a cool calculation of the imperatives of the balance of power. Even the post-1947 American policy of containing the Soviet Union suffers according to Kissinger's standards: “This [American] definition of containment treated power and diplomacy as two distinct elements or phases of policy. It aimed at an ultimate negotiation but supplied no guide to the content of those negotiations.” The incoherence of American foreign policy became apparent with the breakdown in the domestic consensus on containment caused by the Vietnam War: “The internationalist Establishment … collapsed before the onslaught of its children who questioned all its values.”¹

But the former Secretary of State grants that there was one period in U.S. history when American policy makers were able to act reasonably in the pursuit of American national interest: “Ironically, our Founding Fathers were sophisticated statesmen who understood the European balance of power and manipulated it brilliantly, first to bring about America's independence and then to preserve it.” Later generations would unfortunately forget “the statecraft by which the Founding Fathers had secured our independence; disdained were the techniques by which all nations must preserve their interests.”²

Among those Founding Fathers whom Kissinger praises are Thomas Jefferson (for engaging Britain's enemies on the colonies' side during the American Revolution) and John Jay (for later securing recognition from Britain and “liquidating the residual problems of our war with England”). It should be noted, however, that Jay's latter accomplishment—“liquidating the residual problems” with Britain through the so-called Jay's Treaty—was vehemently opposed by Jefferson precisely on the grounds that it threatened American independence. In fact, the founders were deeply divided on a number of critical foreign policy questions, before, during, and after the ratification of the Constitution. The national debate over Jay's Treaty was just as heated and divisive as were subsequent controversies in American history—e.g., the Treaty of Paris (1898-1899), the Treaty of Versailles (1919), and the SALT II Treaty (1979). If wisdom was a hallmark of the founding generation, ordinary political consensus was not.

This is not to deny the importance of the views of the founding generation on foreign affairs; the creation and preservation of the Union during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries are surely testimony to their genius. Behind the obvious and impassioned disagreements there must have been some fundamental consensus on the international environment and America's place in it, or the young nation could not have survived its turbulent beginnings. We are thus justified in looking for policies and documents—Washington's Farewell Address (1796) and the Monroe Doctrine (1823) being the two most prominent examples—in which that consensus might be revealed.

The effort to understand that consensus is not merely an indulgence in antiquarian curiosity, despite such obvious considerations as that ballistic missiles and nuclear weapons did not then exist. The actions and thoughts of the founders are rich with insights into the nature of man and politics, insights that are not limited to a particular time and place, insights that Henry Kissinger correctly calls to our attention. Also, by comprehending the basic divisions of opinion about foreign relations in the 1780s and 1790s, we may better understand the divisions that exist today.³ Perhaps most importantly, American political leaders of the founding period recognized that major foreign policy disagreements must at times be reconciled if the safety and well-being of the regime were not to be put in immediate or long-term jeopardy. At the same time, they were not afraid to pursue the truth as they saw it, to seek political victory rather than consensus if that seemed necessary for the good of the regime.

The obvious danger with any search for consensus is that it will follow the lowest-common-denominator principle—i.e., an agreement for the sake of agreement, incorporating the weakest and least relevant portions of the contending arguments.⁴ But three of the most important Founders—Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay—demonstrated that this need not be so in their monumental literary collaboration to support ratification of the new Constitution.

The Federalist does not contain a complete elaboration of the theory and practice of international relations, because that was not the authors' purpose. But Publius does reveal many of the key assumptions about international affairs that informed the making of the Constitution and that guided early American foreign policy—even though two of the authors (Madison and Jay) had been bitterly at odds during the previous two years about the latter's negotiations with Spain over the Mississippi River, and even though two of them (Madison and Hamilton) would be at each other's throats during the next decade over almost every significant international question.

It is precisely these differences, clearly thought out and articulated in other forums and at other times, which make the consensus of The Federalist, however temporary, especially worthy of close study. Neither the form nor the substance of these differences was ultimately sacrificed to the necessities of the ratification debate, whatever temporary accommodations had to be made. None of the authors surrendered his prior or future policy preferences because of his intellectual and political participation in the joint project (although both Hamilton and Madison did later have certain passages from The Federalist cited against them). And above all, the profound threat to American security stemming from the weakness of the Confederation was dealt with, thereby providing the means to contend with other dangers—and to continue the debate over the true character of American national interest. This suggests that neither the search for political consensus nor for geopolitical truth alone represents the best approach to the formation of American foreign policy.

THE NATURE OF INTERNATIONAL POLITICS

The Federalist divides the globe into four political/geographic regions—Europe, Asia, Africa, and America—each of which is said to have a distinct set of interests. Unfortunately, at the present time, Europe, “by her arms and by her negotiations, by force and by fraud, has in different degrees extended her dominion over them all.” Some attribute this European success to the superiority of her inhabitants, casting doubt upon the natural ability of the other regions to challenge Europe's global mastery. (“Men admired as profound philosophers … have gravely asserted that all animals, and with them the human species, degenerate in America—that even dogs cease to bark after having breathed awhile in our atmosphere.”) Publius admits that “[f]acts have too long supported these pregnant pretensions of the European.”⁵

Nevertheless, Europe's worldwide glory came from the collective successes of several nations, not just the singular excellence of one. Among themselves, the kingdoms of Europe struggle for commercial and military advantage, both inside and outside the continent. It is this struggle for national power which characterizes international politics. The Federalist makes this point most strongly when it argues that conflict, and not cooperation, would mark the American states if they ceased to come under the aegis of a national government. Despite their common language, geography, and preference for republican government, the demands of national interest would quickly divide them as surely as they had divided France and Great Britain.⁶

According to The Federalist, all nations have distinct interests that are of sufficient importance to be defended or advanced through war or the threat of war. Publius speaks of two principal factors that determine these interests. First, there is the effect of geography and the requirement to defend national territory. Nations that border on one another tend naturally to be rivals: “… it has from long observation of the progress of society become a sort of axiom in politics that vicinity, or nearness of situation, constitutes nations natural enemies.”⁷ Propinquity leads to territorial disputes, which “have at all times been found one of the most fertile sources of hostility among nations.”⁸ Along this same line, The Federalist distinguishes between continental and insular situations—nations that have land borders with other nations (e.g., France, Prussia, and Austria) automatically inherit “natural” geographic rivals, unlike nations that are surrounded by water or an otherwise benign environment (e.g., Great Britain).⁹

The second major determinant of national interest is commerce: “Different commercial concerns must create different interests. …”¹⁰The Federalist reflects that the great wars between Britain and France “have in great measure grown out of commercial considerations—the desire of supplanting and the fear of being supplanted, either in particular branches of traffic or in the general advantages of trade and navigation, and sometimes even the more culpable desire of sharing in the commerce of other nations without their consent.” Further, Publius notes that the violent character of international relations has not changed since commercial interests and disputes became relatively more important: “Is not the love of wealth as domineering and enterprising a passion as that of power and glory? Have there not been as many wars founded upon commercial motives since that has become the prevailing system of nations, as were before occasioned by the cupidity of territory or dominion?” This is not to say that “the love of power or the desire of pre-eminence and dominion” has ceased to be a driving force in international relations—merely that the impulse to maximize national power tended to manifest itself in wars or diplomacy based on the search for commercial advantage.¹¹

According to The Federalist, then, the major factors that determine national interest (geography, commerce, national or kingly ambition) tend toward conflict rather than conciliation among nations. “To judge from the history of mankind, we shall be compelled to conclude that the fiery and destructive passions of war reign in the human breast with much more powerful sway than the mild and beneficent sentiments of peace.”¹² To reinforce this case about the “realistic” character of international politics, Publius describes the pernicious influence of “unrealistic” factors: Nations make war for advantage (“whenever they have a prospect of getting anything by it”), but “absolute monarchs will often make war when their nations are to get nothing by it, but for purposes and objects merely personal, such as a thirst for military glory, revenge for personal affronts, ambition, or private compacts to aggrandize or support their particular families or partisans.”¹³

The latter point suggests that The Federalist has neglected a rather obvious factor affecting national interest: the nature of the regime. Surely monarchies are more aggressive than republics? But Publius takes pains elsewhere to demonstrate that peoples (and republics) have in practice been no less addicted to war than monarchs, that “aversions, predilections, rivalships, and desires of unjust acquisitions … affect nations as well as kings.” Again: “There have been, if I may so express it, almost as many popular wars as royal wars.”¹⁴The Federalist makes this point strongly in order to emphasize that the traditional balance of power politics, based on the conflict of nations, will not be replaced by some other, less conflict-ridden international system.¹⁵

As noted above, disputes over commerce had to a large extent replaced conflicts over territory as the mechanism that drove the European national and imperial competition, according to The Federalist. But at the time of the Revolution and during the Confederal period, some Americans argued that the combination of commerce (based on free international trade) and the spread of the republican form of government would lead to a very different kind of relationship among nations. Specifically, Publius refers to those who favored a dissolution of the Union and to their argument that several small commercial American republics would enjoy peace and prosperity with each other. This principle of commercial cooperation was also expected by some to create a similar relationship among the nations of the world. As The Federalist characterizes this view:

… there are still to be found visionary and designing men, who stand ready to advocate the paradox of perpetual peace between the States though dismembered and alienated from each other. The genius of republics (say they) is pacific; the spirit of commerce has the tendency to soften the manners of men, and to extinguish those inflammable humors which have so often kindled into wars. Commercial republics, like ours, will never be disposed to waste themselves in ruinous contentions with each other. They will be governed by mutual interest, and will cultivate a spirit of mutual amity and accord.

Publius's rejoinder is harsh:

… what reason can we have to confide in those reveries which would seduce us into an expectation of peace and cordiality between the members of the present confederacy, in a state of separation? Have we not already seen enough of the fallacy and extravagance of those idle theories which have amused us with promises of an exemption from the imperfections, the weaknesses, and the evils incident to society in every shape? Is it not time to awake from the deceitful dream of a golden age and to adopt as a practical maxim for the direction of our political conduct that we, as well as the other inhabitants of the globe, are yet remote from the happy empire of perfect wisdom and perfect virtue?¹⁶

The crucial point for Publius is that the United States cannot expect that international politics will somehow be transformed into something other than what observation reveals—the struggle for the advantage and survival of individual nations. Neither trade nor the development of republics (in the United States or elsewhere) will change the character of international relations. The new Constitution will not change, and was not intended to change, this situation. Publius emphasizes that the question of “peace or war will not always be left to our option, that however moderate or unambitious we may be, we cannot count upon the moderation, or hope to extinguish the ambitions of others. … To model our political systems upon speculations of lasting tranquillity would be to calculate on the weaker springs of human character.”¹⁷ More specifically, the United States must expect “that a firm union of this country, under, an efficient government, will probably be an increasing object of jealousy to more than one nation of Europe. …”¹⁸

Having made this grim observation, however, The Federalist does not counsel despair or the abandonment of republican government in favor of some other form better suited to the conduct of war and the defense of territory. Rather, Publius concludes that republican government, properly constructed, can provide security in this hostile international environment—and more importantly, that in doing so a republican government can bring domestic prosperity and well-being to its people. Here the Constitution, and the policies of those who drafted and supported the Constitution, were expected to play the crucial role in vindicating the worth and viability of self-government in international relations.

THE UNITED STATES AND WORLD POLITICS

Much of The Federalist's discussion of foreign policy is devoted to the question of safety—i.e., how the United States could preserve its national independence in the face of severe domestic and foreign pressure. This argument was made partly for ordinary political effect in the ratification debate; raising the British (or Spanish or Indian) threat garnered votes for the new Constitution, insofar as that threat seemed to have come about because of the inadequacies of the Confederation. But Publius seems to have much more in mind when making this argument. The most thoughtful supporters of the Constitution believed that the weakness of the Confederal government reflected an even larger political deficiency. The Constitution was written (as was The Federalist) with the hope of helping to define a sense of American nationhood that otherwise seemed incomplete. In a world of powerful and avaricious states, the United States was required to present itself to the world as a nation that understood and was capable of defending its interests. Any significant internal differences on this point were bound to be exploited by unfriendly powers. External danger, then, constituted an important unifying (centripetal) element for American nationalists.¹⁹

The Federalist was very explicit about the types of foreign dangers then confronting the United States. Britain and Spain held possessions on and around the North American continent from which attacks against U. S. territory could take place. (The British and the Spanish could strike directly with their own forces, or indirectly through support of the Indian tribes resisting the westward migration of American settlers.) This threat of military aggression against the United States was only part of the problem, however. America's domestic and international trade, which was vital to national prosperity, had been placed in jeopardy by the policies of the European empires. For example, Spain had closed the Mississippi River to Americans in 1784, thus shutting off the easiest route of trade from the emerging West to the rest of the states. Britain had imposed Orders in Council that effectively removed most of the lucrative trading advantages that the colonies had enjoyed while a member of the British Empire. Nor was the economic threat strictly a European one; for example, pirates from the Barbary Coast threatened to destroy American shipping in the Mediterranean.²⁰

Publius thus insists that American independence had by no means been assured merely because of the peace treaty with Britain. Isolation from the quarrels of Europe was not a foregone conclusion in 1787. Hostile nations schemed to take advantage of American domestic weakness by convincing certain peripheral areas of the Confederation (Vermont, the West) that their interest lay in separation from the United States, if not formal alignment with Britain or Spain. Weakness at the periphery was unfortunately compounded by weakness at the center—or more precisely, because of the lack of a center (“weakness and divisions at home would invite dangers from abroad”).²¹ State governments by and large ignored the efforts of Congress to address the immediate dangers to the territorial and economic security of the Union. By following their own particular interests while sabotaging those of the entire nation, the states had drawn both the contempt and the wrath of Britain and Spain.

This line of argument was sympathetically received by many who had resented or suffered from the indignities borne by the United States during the Confederal period. But the requirements of safety were essentially negative in character. Foreign dangers could only go so far in creating a sense of national identity and interest; once the immediate danger had ceased—or when one state or faction tried to turn the threat to its narrow advantage—the artifice of cohesion would break down. Everyone could presumably agree upon the point that the American nation should not be held hostage to the whims of European despots, but what exactly did that principle mean in practice? Was it the interest of the West in free navigation of the Mississippi, or the interest of the East in enhanced trade with Spain (which might require an agreement with Madrid to forego navigation of the Mississippi, at least for some time)? What were the positive aspects of American nationhood that could unite those people who resided in American territory, and that could give energy and direction to the affairs of state in a dangerous and demanding world?

If these are not easy questions today, much less were they during the troubled years during and immediately after the Revolution. The Federalist is in part a description of the political and institutional process by which American national interests could be satisfactorily (and safely) defined. In the judgment of Publius, the Articles of Confederation had manifestly failed at this most essential task. That task was then conferred upon the Constitution, in combination with the Union.

The formation of positive national interests, however, is viewed by Publius as depending upon much more than properly structured institutions of government. Many American interests were derived from the fact that the United States existed at a particular place and time, and that it existed in a specific international environment that was largely beyond American control (but not beyond prudent manipulation). For instance, The Federalist noted that the occupants of American territory have a certain genius which must be taken into account in the formation of American institutions and policies. Among other traits, there is the “unequaled spirit of enterprise, which signals the genius of the American merchants and navigators and which is in itself an inexhaustible mine of national wealth.”²²

The devotion to commerce that marks the American character is buttressed by a natural inclination to Union. Publius remarks in Federalist 2 that “[t]his country and this people seem to have been made for each other,” and that “independent America was not composed of detached and distant territories, but that one connected, fertile, wide-spreading country was the portion of our western sons of liberty.” The people were united because they had descended “from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion, attached to the same principles of government, very similar in their manners and customs, and who, by their joint counsels, arms, and efforts, fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established their general liberty and independence.”²³

Unfortunately, according to The Federalist, neither commercial enterprise nor affection for Union had prospered under the weakness of the Articles of Confederation. As a consequence of this weakness, the United States found it impossible to cope with the threat of aggression described above or to promote international or domestic commerce. The obvious failings of the Confederation undermined the popular ties that bound the Union together, and encouraged hostile foreign powers to restrict trade and otherwise meddle in internal American affairs, with the hope of breaking up the Union (or, in the case of Britain, recovering her imperial status). Thus the lament in Federalist 6:

Let the point of extreme depression to which our national dignity and credit have sunk, let the inconveniences felt everywhere from a lax and ill administration of government, let the revolt of a part of the State of North Carolina, the late menacing disturbances in Pennsylvania, and the actual insurrections and rebellions in Massachusetts, declare—!²⁴

Publius warns that this depressing situation will lead to its logical conclusion—the frustration of commerce and the break-up of the Union, due in large part to foreign pressure—unless the substantial reforms undertaken by the Constitution are adopted. Once these reforms are achieved, The Federalist anticipates the outline of an approach to foreign policy that would provide security and prosperity to the American regime, along the lines that would satisfy the peculiar genius of the people. This outline, not surprisingly, contains many of the elements that would later appear in Washington's Farewell Address and the Monroe Doctrine. The Federalist does not argue that the United States can or should change the international environment radically to secure American interests; a global revolution on behalf of free trade or republican government does not seem to be necessary to the prosperity and security of the American regime. Rather, Publius suggests that the United States, if properly governed and prudent, can exempt itself from much of the turmoil caused by European conflicts. Indeed, American statesmen might well gain diplomatic leverage because of the mechanics of the European balance of power, thereby permitting the United States to gain positive economic and strategic advantages without exposing the United States to undue risks.

The central geopolitical objective of the United States is set out in Federalist 8. Here Publius makes the distinction between insular and continental states on the basis of the frequency with which nations are subject to invasion. Great Britain is described as falling within the first (insular) category because of its geographic location and its powerful navy. If the United States remains united and energetic, “we may for ages enjoy an advantage similar to that of an insulated situation. Europe is at a great distance from us. Her colonies in our vicinity will be likely to continue too much disproportioned in strength to be able to give us any dangerous annoyance.” On the other hand, division of the Union would place the remaining states or confederacies “in a short course of time, in the predicament of the continental powers of Europe,” both with respect to each other and to the European empires, which would then represent a much greater threat.²⁵

We should note that the geopolitical objective established by The Federalist—insularity, or isolation—is a conceivable but not necessary consequence of the geographic separation between the Old and New World. That is, insularity for the United States, while feasible, is not automatic. To achieve this preferred position, the United States requires a positive program to maintain and strengthen the Union, provide adequate military capability to deter or conduct war, and remove European influence from American domestic councils and eventually from threatening positions in the Western Hemisphere. If the United States fails on this score, it will become “the instrument of European greatness.” If the United States succeeds, however, it will be “superior to the control of all transatlantic force or influence and be able to dictate the terms of the connection between the old and the new world.” The United States “may hope, erelong, to become the arbiter of Europe in America, and to be able to incline the balance of European competitions in this part of the world as our interest may dictate.”²⁶

The Federalist's understanding of the “balance of competition” can be reduced to this axiom: America rules in America, or Europe rules in America. (The United States, we should note, seeks to play upon the European balance of competition “in this part of the world”—i.e., America does not seek to become the arbiter of Europe in Europe.) By remaining united, the American states can play upon the inevitable conflicts among the European empires; the distinguished historian Samuel Flagg Bemis referred to this concept as “America's advantage from Europe's distress.”²⁷

How exactly does The Federalist propose that the United States gain advantage from Europe's distress? Military action is an obvious conclusion, but it is not the one that Publius reaches. Keeping in mind the peculiar commercial genius of the American people, The Federalist holds out trade as the preferred tool of American diplomacy. We recall his earlier observation that European disputes over commerce had supplanted to some extent the previous pattern of disputes over territory.²⁸ By playing in this commercial game—at the economic, not the military level—with its not inconsiderable resources, the United States might expect to gain leverage over competing European powers. “By prohibitory [discriminatory] regulations, extending at the same time throughout the states,” Publius writes, “we may oblige foreign countries to bid against each other for the privilege of our markets.” American markets were thought especially attractive to the Europeans because the U.S. economy was then, and seemed likely to remain, predominantly agricultural in character; European traders thus had several million potential customers whose needs for manufactured goods could not be satisfied in the domestic American marketplace.²⁹

The Federalist describes briefly how a commercially based foreign policy might work, using the often-discussed British example:

Suppose, for instance, we had a government in America capable of excluding Great Britain (with whom we have at present no treaty of commerce) from all our ports; what would be the probable operation of this step upon her politics? Would it not enable us to negotiate, with the fairest prospect of success, for commercial privileges of the most valuable and extensive kind in the dominions of that kingdom? … A mature consideration of the objects suggested by these questions will justify a belief that the real disadvantages to Great Britain from such a state of things, conspiring with the prepossessions of a great part of the nation in favor of American trade and with the importunities of the West India islands, would produce a relaxation of the present [British] system and would let us into the enjoyment of privileges in the markets of those islands and elsewhere from which our trade would derive the most substantial benefits. Such a point gained from the British government … would be likely to have a correspondent effect on the conduct of other nations, who would not be inclined to see themselves altogether supplanted in our trade.³⁰

American commercial leverage over the European nations would be strongest when the latter were at war and in desperate need of trade. This interest increased the incentive for the United States to remain neutral and reap the benefits from all of the belligerents while suffering the wrath of none. The commercial approach to foreign policy also explains the long-standing American interest in the trading rights of neutrals in international law and practice, an interest which the Founding generation very much shared.

The inability of the Confederation to develop and enforce such a national economic policy was one of the major marks against the old system. As a result of this failure, Publius claims, commercial affairs tended to divide rather than unite the states and the people. The East-South debate over the question of the Mississippi, with its immense foreign policy repercussions, provided only one of many examples of this deplorable trend. The commercial genius of the American people, being frustrated, had manifested itself in dangerous ways—e.g., separatist trends and flirtation with foreign powers in the West, the flouting of Congress's requests for cooperation on trade legislation. A breakup of the Union would leave matters even worse:

The spirit of enterprise, which characterizes the commercial part of America, has left no occasion of displaying itself unimproved. It is not at all probable that this unbridled spirit would pay much respect to those regulations of trade by which particular States might endeavor to secure exclusive benefits to their own citizens. The infractions of these regulations, on one side, the efforts to prevent and repel them, on the other, would naturally lead to outrages, and these to reprisals and wars.³¹

The Federalist suggested that the new constitutional system, and an intelligent geopolitical approach to American security, would channel this potentially divisive commercial energy and ambition into policies aimed to strengthen the bonds of Union, increase the general prosperity, and maintain security from external threats. Here is at least part of the positive national interest that the Founders were attempting to cultivate.³²

Military power—at least as defined in terms of war and conquest—is not put forward by Publius as an object of positive interest to the American regime. The Federalist goes into great detail about how the Constitution and Union will decrease the likelihood of foreign aggression, whether the causes of the attack were just or unjust.³³ Publius is by no means indifferent to the importance of strategy or complacent about the military requirements of foreign policy; he notes that “[w]ar, like most other things, is a science to be acquired and perfected by diligence, by perseverance, by time, and by practice.” The romantic image of the citizen-farmer leaving his plow to defeat the invader is unrealistic in the era of modern, professional warfare.³⁴The Federalist, however, sees American military competence put to its best use not on the battlefield, but on occasions when it would deter a European power from contemplating war against the United States. In particular, the United States should be in a political and military position to maintain its neutrality, and its overseas commerce, during a war among European powers that does not immediately threaten American security.

Publius emphasizes that preference alone will not allow the United States to maintain its neutrality: “The rights of neutrality will only be respected when they are defended by an adequate power. A nation, despicable by its weakness, forfeits even the privilege of being neutral.” To this end, a federal navy would be the most efficacious military tool with which to influence European behavior. That navy would not necessarily have to match the capabilities of the great British or French fleets to be effective, given the geographical advantages of operating an American navy in the Western Hemisphere, and the narrow margin of combat between the European maritime powers. In the not-too-distant future, the United States should be able to create a navy that would

… at least be of respectable weight if thrown into the scale of either of two contending parties. This would be more particularly the case in relation to operations in the West Indies. A few ships of the line, sent opportunely to the reinforcement of either side, would often be sufficient to decide the fate of a campaign on the event of which interests of the greatest magnitude were suspended. Our position is in this respect a very commanding one.³⁵

The Federalist here is not arguing that the United States should seek opportunities to conduct naval warfare; under these circumstances, the United States could probably avoid war and still maintain and promote its essential national interests. By combining American military forces with the usefulness of American military supplies to a European power operating in the New World, the United States would be able “to bargain with great advantage for commercial privileges. A price would be set not only upon our friendship, but upon our neutrality.”³⁶

The Federalist does not argue that military power alone, any more than preference alone, is the best way to maintain a useful neutrality for the United States. A positive American “correlation of forces” is best built on a broader base of national power and unity: “America united, with a handful of troops, or without a single soldier, exhibits a more forbidding posture to foreign ambition than America disunited, with a hundred thousand veterans ready for combat.”³⁷ Publius puts this case forward in Federalist 4:

If they [foreign nations] see that our national government is efficient and well administered, our trade prudently regulated, our militia properly organized and disciplined, our resources and finances discreetly managed, our credit re-established, our people free, contented, and united, they will be much more disposed to cultivate our friendship than provoke our resentment.³⁸

To sum up: like all other nations, the United States seeks to survive and prosper as a nation; to that end, Publius argues that it should seek to accumulate power and freedom of international action along the prudent lines described above. But national survival and prosperity are not comprehensive guides to the proper ends of national power. Commercial genius and inclination to Union are not sufficient descriptions of the American character, because the same might be said of peoples under a monarchy or mixed regime. Federalist 39 points to another crucial aspect of the American way of life: “It is evident that no other form [than strictly republican government] would be reconcilable with the genius of the people of America; with the fundamental principles of the Revolution; or with that honorable determination which animates every votary of freedom to rest all our political experiments on the capacity of mankind for self-government.”³⁹

What special requirements, if any, does the republican form of government place on American foreign policy? We earlier noted The Federalist's observation that there seemed to be no difference between monarchies and republics when it came to such crucial points as the pursuit of international commerce and the propensity to war. This observation must be qualified at least to the extent that, according to The Federalist, all other attempts at self-government to that date had been fatally flawed, and that only the American experiment fully grasped the true requirements of republican rule. To this extent, the United States may have interests and pursue policies that differ from those of all other nations, both monarchical and quasi-republican.

One might also be able to formulate republican foreign policy by making a strict separation between the requirements of domestic politics (self-government) and the demands of international relations (Realpolitik). The Preamble to the Constitution apparently gives equal weight to “the common defense,” “a more perfect Union,” “Justice,” “domestic Tranquility,” “the general Welfare,” and “the Blessings of Liberty.” In theory, one could avoid questions of priority by assuming that defense applies only to external matters and the rest strictly to internal affairs. But The Federalist does not permit that distinction to be made quite so easily, and indeed posits a very close relationship among these various goals of the regime. To recall points already made: a strong Union and domestic tranquility are essential to an effective foreign policy, while an effective foreign policy creates an environment in which American commerce can prosper without fear of external or internal European interference.

More importantly, The Federalist also stresses that the success of American foreign policy is essential to the preservation of American liberty. The character of any regime depends to a great extent on its place in the world. Again recurring to the distinction between insular and continental powers, Publius makes the point that those nations which are constantly exposed to the danger of invasion must maintain large standing armies to repel sudden invasion, and that “the liberties of Europe, as far as they have ever existed, have, with few exceptions, been the price of her military establishments.”⁴⁰

The perpetual menacings of danger oblige the government to be always prepared to repel it; its armies must be numerous enough for instant defense. The continued necessity for their services increases the importance of the soldier and proportionately degrades the condition of the citizen. The military state becomes elevated above the civil. The inhabitants of territories, often the theater of war, are unavoidably subjected to frequent infringements on their rights; and by degrees the people are brought to consider the soldiery not only as their protectors but as their superiors.⁴¹

Unfortunately, according to Publius, some opponents of the Constitution have concluded too much from the unhappy condition of the continental European powers. To be specific, many Anti-Federalists objected to the lack of a Constitutional prohibition against a standing army as being a fatal flaw in that document—the first step toward an American despotism. The Federalist counters this argument directly on the grounds that a standing army as such need not lead to tyranny; clearly, given the importance of a constant defense of the frontier and the seacoast, some sort of permanent military force will be necessary.⁴² Publius makes this part of his more general argument that it is foolish, indeed counterproductive, to limit in advance those powers of the government (e.g., to ensure public safety from external invasion) that cannot be limited in practice:

How could a readiness for war in time of peace be safely prohibited, unless we could prohibit in like manner the preparations and establishments of every hostile nation? The means of security can only be regulated by the means and the danger of attack. They will, in fact, be ever determined by these rules and by no others. It is vain to oppose constitutional barriers to the impulse of self-preservation. It is worse than vain, because it plants in the Constitution itself necessary usurpations of power, every precedent of which is a germ of unnecessary and multiplied repetitions. If one nation maintains constantly a disciplined army, ready for the service of ambition or revenge, it obliges the most pacific nations who may be within reach of its enterprises to take corresponding precautions.⁴³

To support this essentially negative argument about military power, Publius develops a much more optimistic theme: the American military establishment will prove compatible with republican government because a prudent foreign policy can decisively affect (though it cannot absolutely prohibit) “the preparations and establishments of every hostile nation.” By indirectly reducing the threat, an American government can thus minimize the necessary size and importance of its own armed forces. In contemplating their verdict on the fate of the Constitution, the people should not assume that the continental situation will or should obtain for the United States; an insular condition is both desirable and possible. (An insular nation, we recall, is one that is not ordinarily jeopardized by the constant threat of foreign invasion.) Britain here is proof of what the combination of favorable geography and sensible foreign policies can achieve: “Being rendered by her insular situation and her maritime resources impregnable to the armies of her neighbors, the rulers of Great Britain have never been able, by real or artificial dangers, to cheat the public into an extensive peace [time military] establishment.”⁴⁴

To enjoy “the same happy security” as her former colonial master, the United States must follow the British pattern of security, or “the face of America will be but a copy of that of the continent of Europe. It will present liberty everywhere crushed between standing armies and perpetual taxes.”⁴⁵ That pattern for Publius included maintaining the Union, and developing an effective maritime (naval) capability to defend against seaborne invasion, protect American commercial shipping, preserve America's rights as a neutral, and (in the modern vernacular) project military power if such became necessary. In geopolitical terms, an emphasis on the navy was a cheap way to purchase a great deal of diplomatic and economic leverage; by denying a potential European enemy the ability to supply land forces in North America or to hold American coastal cities hostage, the United States would enjoy a potentially decisive military advantage, and hence discourage attack in the first place.

In political terms, a strong navy was much less offensive to republican liberty than a standing army; in Publius's words, the “batteries most capable of repelling foreign enterprises on our safety [i.e., the navy] are happily such as can never be turned by a perfidious government against our liberties.”⁴⁶ Naval competence would imply a reduction in the size of the army, that force which is most feared by republican governments: “When a nation has become so powerful by sea that it can protect its dockyards by its fleets, this supersedes the necessity of garrisons for that purpose. …”⁴⁷

In summary, The Federalist does not anticipate any dichotomy between the requirements of “power” and “principle” in American foreign policy. A due regard to republican liberty (which necessitates Union and a properly constructed national government) and to the requirements of geopolitics are seen as being complementary, not contradictory. The approach that made the most strategic sense—the active pursuit of insularity (isolation) with an emphasis on strengthening America's position in international commerce—would also create a domestic environment that would support the preservation and maturation of self-government. This was about as comprehensive a definition of the national interest as one could possibly achieve.⁴⁸

CONCLUSION

To return to our earlier question: how could three men, who were able to collaborate on such a brilliant exposition of political rhetoric and political theory as The Federalist, disagree so strongly over the direction of the American regime in the decade following ratification of the Constitution? The consensus articulated in the name of Publius—that insularity and the pursuit of commerce represented the essential American national interest toward the rest of the world—proved impossible to maintain in practice. Neither Hamilton nor Madison, nor their respective followers, ever repudiated this basic goal of American foreign policy, but they interpreted the means to that goal (and indeed, the goal itself) in vastly different lights. This observation is not intended to revisit the political terrain of the Hamilton-Madison split, which has been well staked-out by other and far wiser scholars. But it is intended to produce reflection concerning the meaning and purpose of reaching a consensus about American foreign policy.

For those attending the national security conference circuit in the Washington—New York—Boston triangle, one familiar topic is today discussed virtually without fail: how can the American political community reestablish a bipartisan consensus on foreign affairs similar in form—but almost certainly not in substance—to that which existed during the so-called Cold War? This project, unfortunately, is hampered by the general lack of clarity about the fundamental assumptions and goals that underlie various foreign policy options now being discussed. Perhaps it is this lack of clarity, and not the lack of consensus, which lies at the root of our security problem.

When one-examines the historical record to identify the “golden years” of the anti-Soviet consensus, one will search almost in vain. There were significant differences of policy and purpose about the American doctrine of containment from the beginning; the original “father” of containment, George Kennan, would later deny paternity for virtually the entire enterprise. Harry Truman and Dean Acheson, now heroes for much of the conservative movement, were not heroes to the right when they were in office. George Marshall, the architect of American victory in World War II, somehow managed to “lose” China and was later vilified on the floor of the Senate as “an errand boy, a front man, a stooge, or a co-conspirator for this [Truman] administration's crazy assortment of collectivist cutthroat crackpots and Communist fellow-traveling appeasers.”⁴⁹

This is not to deny that one can identify, in retrospect, critical agreements about the national interest from 1947 to the late 1960s, just as one can identify certain points of consensus in 1787, or today for that matter. If these points—often unspoken and even unrecognized—did not exist, then the American regime would have collapsed at some point. But such specific or general areas of concurrence have not been, and are not now, a complete blueprint for U. S. national security. A consensus on the ends of American foreign policy, if that were intellectually possible, would provide no guarantee of a consensus on the means to achieve those ends. (Nor would the fact of a consensus guarantee that it would work in the real world.) A consensus on certain means (e.g., the MX missile and the small ICBM), if that were politically negotiable, would very likely not be supported by a common purpose.

Such is the pattern of American history, and there is little reason to believe it will change. There is no magic solution to resolve differences over the proper approach to the Soviet Union, over the morally and strategically correct nuclear doctrine, over the efficacy of sanctions against the government of South Africa. We will in all likelihood continue to muddle along, knowing that it is not the best we could do, but that it will have to do.

Still, for those who are interested in doing better, in improving the contemporary content of American foreign policy, a reappraisal of the experience of the founders is most instructive. Publius demonstrated in the 1780s the fruits of collaboration; Hamilton and Madison demonstrated in the 1790s the limits of that collaboration, and their belief that it was more important to demonstrate the alternatives then open to the American regime than to remain in shallow agreement for the sake of consensus and political tranquillity. We are richer for both experiences, not only because the founders were sophisticated, but because they worked hard to make serious arguments about their deeply held convictions, and to understand fully their own position and that of their political adversaries (or allies). Over the past two centuries, we have taken liberally from each vision—from each set of policies—that which suited us. We have profited from both the harmony and the discord. The search for consensus is not always the best approach, and certainly not the only approach, to improving our understanding of the national interest.

Notes

1. Henry Kissinger, White House Years (Boston: Little, Brown, 1979), pp. 58-61, 65.

2. Ibid., p. 58.

3. Among the historians who have taken up the intellectual connection between American foreign policies of the twentieth century and those of the Founders are Felix Gilbert, To the Farewell Address: Ideas of Early American Foreign Policy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961); Paul A. Varg, Foreign Policies of the Founding Fathers (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 1963); and James H. Hutson, “Intellectual Foundations of Early American Diplomacy,” Diplomatic History 1 (Winter 1977): 1-19.

4. This would be the equivalent of allowing the Dutch to determine NATO nuclear policy.

5. Federalist 11, p. 91.

6. See especially Federalist 5-8 on this point.

7. Federalist 6, p. 59.

8. Federalist 7, p. 60.

9. Federalist 8, pp. 69-71. Of course, even an insular nation such as Britain must fear seaborne invasion—hence the traditional British concern that no power dominate the European continent, especially the Low Countries. But there is no single “natural” enemy that poses that threat; at the time of The Federalist, France represented the most immediate potential danger to Britain, but this role was earlier occupied by Spain and would later be assumed by Germany and the Soviet Union.

10. Federalist 5, p. 53.

11. Federalist 6, pp. 55, 57, and 59, Federalist 5 (p. 51) predicts that such motives would exist even among the smaller American confederacies if the Union were dissolved.

12. Federalist 34, p. 208.

13. Federalist 4, p. 46.

14. Federalist 6, pp. 56-58.

15. There is no explicit and full treatment of the European balance of power in The Federalist, but there is also no question that the founders had a sophisticated understanding of “realistic” international politics and that this informs the argument of The Federalist throughout. See, for example, Madison's remarks in the Constitutional Convention, June 28, 1787, in Robert A. Rutland et al., eds., The Papers of James Madison (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1962-), vol. 10, pp. 81-82. Hereinafter referred to as Madison Papers.

16. Federalist 6, pp. 56-59.

17. Federalist 34, p. 208.

18. Federalist 59, p. 366. In Federalist 11 (p. 85), Hamilton refers to three specific objectives of hostile European powers: “preventing our interference in their navigation, of monopolizing the profits of our trade, and of clipping the wings by which we might soar to dangerous greatness.”

19. This was a particular theme of John Jay. In reference to the Barbary pirate problem, Jay wrote John Adams in October 1785: “The Algerines, it seems, have declared war against us. If we act properly, I shall not be very sorry for it. In my opinion it may lay the foundation for a navy, and tend to draw us more closely into a federal system.” On the threats to American security in North America, Jay wrote to Lafayette that same month: “Good will come out of evil; these discontents nourish federal ideas. As trade diminishes, agriculture must suffer; and hence it will happen that our yeomen will be as desirous of increasing the powers of Congress as our merchants now are. All foreign restrictions, exclusions, and unneighborly ordinances will tend to press us together, and strengthen our bands of union.” Henry P. Johnston, ed., The Correspondence and Public Papers of John Jay (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1891), pp. 161, 173.

20. See, for example, Federalist 4, pp. 46-47; Federalist 15, pp. 106-107. The threats to American national security during the 1780s are well described in Edward Marks, Independence on Trial: Foreign Affairs and the Making of the Constitution (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1973), especially pp. 3-51. Among the frequent references to these dangers by the authors of The Federalist, see also Hamilton, “Remarks on an Act Acknowledging the Independence of Vermont,” New York Assembly, March 28, 1787, in Harold C. Syrett, ed., The Papers of Alexander Hamilton (New York and London: Columbia University Press, 1962-), vol. 5, pp. 135-136. Hereinafter cited as Hamilton Papers.

21. Federalist 5, p. 50. It was widely held that the British had a hand in the Vermont separatist movement and in Shay's rebellion. See, for example, William Grayson to Madison, November 23, 1786, in Madison Papers, vol. 9, p. 174, and Jay to Jefferson, December 14, 1786, in Julian P. Boyd et al., eds., The Papers of Thomas Jefferson (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1950-), vol. 10, p. 596.

22. Federalist 11, p. 88. According to Forrest McDonald, however, Hamilton “rejected Montesquieu's widely-held proposition that the spirit of a people determined its government on the grounds that laws and institutions were more important that ‘spirit,’ and that a people received its ‘manners’ and morals and ‘national character’ from the example of ‘people in authority,’ anyway.” Alexander Hamilton: A Biography (New York: W. W. Norton, 1979), pp. 96-97. In any event, The Federalist certainly did not neglect the institutional component of how the national interest should be politically conceived.

23. Federalist 2, p. 38. The authors of The Federalist were concerned about the strength of the American “genius” toward Union; Madison and Jay had been preoccupied with the sectional problems brought on by the negotiations with Spain over navigation of the Mississippi. At one point, Madison identified the “centrifigul problem” as being between North and South, which resulted “partly from climate, but principally from the effects of their having or not having slaves.” On another occasion, however, Madison remarked that the human character could not be determined by the points of the compass. (Madison, “Remarks at the Constitutional Convention,” June 30 and July 11, 1787, in Madison Papers, vol. 10, pp. 90, 98.)

24. Federalist 6, p. 59.

25. Federalist 9, pp. 70-71. See also Hamilton's remarks to the Constitutional Convention, June 29, 1787, in Hamilton Papers, vol. 4, pp. 220-221.

26. Federalist 11, pp. 87, 91. In the view of Samuel Flagg Bemis (“The Background of Washington's Foreign Policy,” Yale Review 16 [January 1927]: 325): “During the period of confederation … there was not so much question about the United States being involved in European affairs as there was of keeping European powers out of American affairs and American territory.”

27. See, most notably, Bemis, Jay's Treaty: American's Advantage from Europe's Distress, 1783-1900, rev. ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1960), and Jay's Treaty: A Study of Commerce and Diplomacy, rev. ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1962). Thus Madison's point to Horatio Gates (December 11, 1787): “A general war in Europe will open a new scene to this Country: a scene which might be contemplated with pleasure if our humanity could forget the calamities in which it must involve others; and if we were in a condition to maintain the rights and pursue the advantages of neutrality.” Madison Papers, vol. 10, p. 315.

28. See Federalist 6, pp. 56-59.

29. Federalist 11, p. 85.

30. Ibid., pp. 85-86. These words were penned by Hamilton, who would later find fault with what was apparently a similar policy advocated by Madison in the 1790s.

31. Federalist 7, p. 63.

32. Of course, despite the apparent agreement between Hamilton and Madison that emphasis on commerce was a necessary component of Union and a sensible foreign policy, the two disagreed vehemently during the 1790s over precisely what the commercial policy should be.

33. See Federalist 3, pp. 42-43.

34. Federalist 25, pp. 166-167.

35. Federalist 11, p. 87.

36. Ibid., pp. 86-87.

37. Federalist 41, p. 258.

38. Federalist 4, p. 49. Hamilton makes a related argument in Federalist 11, p. 89.

39. Federalist 39, p. 240. The authors of The Federalist were very much concerned, however, with the propensity of republics to admit foreign influence.

40. Madison does not make this point lightly; he notes that, had the other nations of Europe failed to respond to Charles VII of France's peacetime establishment of military forces, “all Europe must long ago have worn the chains of a universal monarch. Were every nation except France to disband its peace establishment, the same event might follow.” Federalist 41, p. 257.

41. Federalist 8, pp. 70-71.

42. The Federalist is even prescient enough to recognize the danger of surprise attack (No. 25, p. 165).

43. Federalist 41, p. 257.

44. Ibid., p. 258. Also Federalist 8, p. 67: “To be more safe, they at length become willing to run the risk of being less free.” This point is well made in David F. Epstein, The Political Theory of the Federalist (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), pp. 14-21.

45. Federalist 41, p. 257.

46. Ibid., pp. 260-261.

47. Federalist 24, p. 162.

48. Admittedly, The Federalist is much less explicit on the question of the relationship between the liberty and welfare of the American people, and that of the peoples of other nations. Emphasis is placed on the importance of the American experiment succeeding (“… it seems to be reserved to the people of this country, by their conduct and example, to decide the important question, whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good government from reflection and choice, or whether they are forever destined to depend for their political constitutions on accident and force.” Federalist 1, p. 33) rather than on any speculation about how that example would be received by the rest of the world. Differences over this question have been, and they remain, probably the single most important obstacle to the articulation of the national interest (as it relates to foreign affairs) since the founding. This problem was a theoretical one for the founders until the French Revolution, at which time Hamilton and Madison, among many of the founding generation, parted philosophical company on this and several other critical issues.

49. Senator William E. Jenner, cited in Dean Acheson, Present at the Creation (New York: W. W. Norton, 1969), p. 365.