IT MAY perhaps be urged that the objects enumerated in the preceding
number ought to be provided for by the State governments, under the
direction of the Union. But this would be, in reality, an inversion
of the primary principle of our political association, as it would
in practice transfer the care of the common defence from the federal
head to the individual members: a project oppressive to some States,
dangerous to all, and baneful to the Confederacy.
The territories of Britain, Spain, and of the Indian nations in our
neighborhood do not border on particular States, but encircle the
Union from Maine to Georgia. The danger, though in different
degrees, is therefore common. And the means of guarding against it
ought, in like manner, to be the objects of common councils and of a
common treasury. It happens that some States, from local situation,
are more directly exposed. New York is of this class. Upon the plan
of separation provisions, New York would have to sustain the whole
weight of the establishments requisite to her immediate safety, and
to mediate or ultimate protection of her neighbors. This would
neither be equitable as it respected New York nor safe as it
respected the other States. Various inconveniences would attend such
a system. The States, to whose lot it might fall to support the
necessary establishments, would be as little able as willing, for a
considerable time to come, to bear the burden of competent
provisions. The security of all would thus be subjected to the
parsimony, improvidence, or inability of a part. If the resources of
such part becoming more abundant and extensive, its provisions
should be proportionally enlarged, the other States would quickly
take the alarm at seeing the whole military force of the Union in
the hands of two or three of its members, and those probably amongst
the most powerful. They would each choose to have some
counter-poise, and pretences could easily be contrived. In this
situation, military establishments, nourished by mutual jealousy,
would be apt to swell beyond their natural or proper size; and being
at the separate disposal of the members, they would be engines for
the abridgement or demolition of the national authority.
Reasons have been already given to induce a supposition that the
State governments will too naturally be prone to a rivalship with
that of the Union, the foundation of which will be the love of
power; and that in any contest between the federal head and one of
its members the people will be most apt to unite with their local
government. If, in addition to this immense advantage, the ambition
of the members should be stimulated by the separate and independent
possession of military forces, it would afford too strong a
temptation and too great a facility to them to make enterprises
upon, and finally to subvert, the constitutional authority of the
union. On the other hand, the liberty of the people would be less
safe in this state of things than in that which left the national
forces in the hands of the national government. As far as an army
may be considered as a dangerous weapon of power, it had better be
in those hands of which the people are most likely to be jealous
than in those of which they are least likely to be jealous. For it
is a truth, which the experience of ages has attested, that the
people are always most in danger when the means of injuring their
rights are in the possession of those of whom they entertain the
least suspicion.
The framers of the existing Confederation, fully aware of the danger
to the Union from the separate possession of military forces by the
States, have, in express terms, prohibited them from having either
ships or troops, unless with the consent of Congress. The truth is,
that the existence of a federal government and military
establishments under State authority are not less at variance with
each other than a due supply of the federal treasury and the system
of quotas and requisitions.
There are other lights besides those already taken notice of, in
which the impropriety of restraints on the discretion of the
national legislature will be equally manifest. The design of the
objection, which has been mentioned, is to preclude standing armies
in time of peace, though we have never been informed how far it is
designed the prohibition should extend: whether to raising armies as
well as to keeping them up in a season of tranquillity or not. If it
be confined to the latter it will have no precise signification, and
it will be ineffectual for the purpose intended. When armies are
once raised what shall be denominated "keeping them up," contrary to
the sense of the Constitution? What time shall be requisite to
ascertain the violation? Shall it be a week, a month, a year? Or
shall we say they may be continued as long as the danger which
occasioned their being raised continues? This would be to admit that
they might be kept up in time of peace, against threatening or
impending danger, which would be at once to deviate from the literal
meaning of the prohibition, and to introduce an extensive latitude
of construction. Who shall judge of the continuance of the danger?
This must undoubtedly be submitted to the national government, and
the matter would then be brought to this issue, that the national
government, to provide against apprehended danger, might in the
first instance raise troops, and might afterwards keep them on foot
as long as they supposed the peace or safety of the community was in
any degree of jeopardy. It is easy to perceive that a discretion so
latitudinary as this would afford ample room for eluding the force
of the provision.
The supposed utility of a provision of this kind can only be founded
on the supposed probability, or at least possibility, of a
combination between the executive and the legislative, in some
scheme of usurpation. Should this at any time happen, how easy would
it be to fabricate pretences of approaching danger! Indian
hostilities, instigated by Spain or Britain, would always be at
hand. Provocations to produce the desired appearances might even be
given to some foreign power, and appeased again by timely
concessions. If we can reasonably presume such a combination to have
been formed, and that the enterprise is warranted by a sufficient
prospect of success, the army, when once raised, from whatever
cause, or on whatever pretext, may be applied to the execution of
the project.
If, to obviate this consequence, it should be resolved to extend the
prohibition to the raising of armies in time of peace, the United
States would then exhibit the most extraordinary spectacle which the
world has yet seen, that of a nation incapacitated by its
Constitution to prepare for defence, before it was actually invaded.
As the ceremony of a formal denunciation of war has of late fallen
into disuse, the presence of an enemy within our territories must be
waited for, as the legal warrant to the government to begin its
levies of men for the protection of the State. We must receive the
blow, before we could even prepare to return it. All that kind of
policy by which nations anticipate distant danger, and meet the
gathering storm, must be abstained from, as contrary to the genuine
maxims of a free government. We must expose our property and liberty
to the mercy of foreign invaders, and invite them by our weakness to
seize the naked and defenceless prey, because we are afraid that
rulers, created by our choice, dependent on our will, might endanger
that liberty, by an abuse of the means necessary to its
preservation.
Here I expect we shall be told that the militia of the country is
its natural bulwark, and would be at all times equal to the national
defence. This doctrine, in substance, had like to have lost us our
independence. It cost millions to the United States that might have
been saved. The facts which, from our own experience, forbid a
reliance of this kind, are too recent to permit us to be the dupes
of such a suggestion. The steady operations of war against a regular
and disciplined army can only be successfully conducted by a force
of the same kind. Considerations of economy, not less than of
stability and vigor, confirm this position. The American militia, in
the course of the late war, have, by their valor on numerous
occasions, erected eternal monuments to their fame; but the bravest
of them feel and know the liberty of their country could not have
been established by their efforts alone, however great and valuable
they were. War, like most other things, is a science to be acquired
and perfected by diligence, by perseverance, by time, and by
practice.
All violent policy, as it is contrary to the natural and experienced
course of human affairs, defeats itself. Pennsylvania, at this
instant, affords an example of the truth of this remark. The Bill of
Rights of that State declares that standing armies are dangerous to
liberty, and ought not to be kept up in time of peace. Pennsylvania,
nevertheless, in a time of profound peace, from the existence of
partial disorders in one or two of her counties, has resolved to
raise a body of troops; and in all probability will keep them up as
long as there is any appearance of danger to the public peace. The
conduct of Massachusetts affords a lesson on the same subject,
though on different ground. That State (without waiting for the
sanction of Congress, as the articles of the Confederation require)
was compelled to raise troops to quell a domestic insurrection, and
still keeps a corps in pay to prevent a revival of the spirit of
revolt. The particular constitution of Massachusetts opposed no
obstacle to the measure; but the instance is still of use to
instruct us that cases are likely to occur under our government, as
well as under those of other nations, which will sometimes render a
military force in time of peace essential to the security of the
society, and that it is therefore improper in this respect to
control the legislative discretion. It also teaches us, in its
application to the United States, how little the rights of a feeble
government are likely to be respected, even by its own constituents.
And it teaches us, in addition to the rest, how unequal parchment
provisions are to a struggle with public necessity.
It was a fundamental maxim of the Lacedaemonian commonwealth, that
the post of admiral should not be conferred twice on the same
person. The Peloponnesian confederates, having suffered a severe
defeat at sea from the Athenians, demanded Lysander, who had before
served with success in that capacity, to command the combined
fleets. The Lacedaemonians, to gratify their allies, and yet
preserve the semblance of an adherence to their ancient
institutions, had recourse to the flimsy subterfuge of investing
Lysander with the real power of admiral, under the normal title of
vice-admiral. The instance is selected from among a multitude that
might be cited to confirm the truth already advanced and illustrated
by domestic examples; which is, that nations pay little regard to
rules and maxims calculated in their very nature to run counter to
the necessities of society. Wise politicians will be cautious about
fettering the governments with restrictions that cannot be observed,
because they know that every breach of the fundamental laws, though
dictated by necessity, impairs that sacred reverence which ought to
be maintained in the breast of rulers towards the constitution of a
country, and forms a precedent for other breaches where the same
plea of necessity does not exist at all, or is less urgent and
palpable.
Signed "PUBLIUS"
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