107: The Philippine-American War
57:44 Share

Thomas Alva Edison, the Wizard of Menlo Park, as he was known, made a recent appearance in our Origin of the Movies episode.

because in addition to the electric light and countless other inventions, he also gave us the motion picture camera. It reminded me that Edison didn't do well in the traditional school classroom when he was a boy. This prolific inventor and successful businessman learned better at home. At school, it's reported that he'd likely be lost in thought. His mother, Nancy, recognized a different approach to learning was required for her son. And the rest is history. As a parent, I appreciate that.

because each of my own three children are different. They each learn in different ways, and I want them to thrive at whatever they choose to do later in life. One learning option for kids today is K-12. K-12 powered schools are accredited, tuition-free online public schools for students in kindergarten through 12th grade. K-12 can help your child reach their full potential and give you the support you need to get them there.

This is different from homeschooling, where you are responsible for teaching them. K-12 powered schools have state certified teachers, specially trained in teaching online.

So join the more than 2 million families who have chosen K-12 and empower your student to reach their full potential now. Go to k12.com slash HTDS today to learn more and find a tuition-free K-12 powered school near you. That's the letter K, the number 12 dot com slash HTDS. K12.com slash HTDS. It's February 7th, 1899. We're in Washington, D.C., inside the U.S. Capitol's spacious, rectangular Senate chamber.

Some senators are just walking in, others have taken their place among the desks, forming a semicircle around the rostrum. But whatever their position, any observer in the chamber's second-story gallery seating could tell you: the men are engrossed in conversation. Their subject is the Philippines. Let me fill you in on the situation here. It was just yesterday that this very august body, the U.S. Senate, ratified last year's Spanish-American War Ending Treaty of Paris.

And as we know from episode 105, this treaty not only ended the war, it handed several of the dying Spanish Empire's remaining colonies to the US, including the more than 7,000 island archipelago in Southeast Asia known as the Philippines.

But Filipinos didn't fight alongside the Americans, well, sort of alongside the Americans, to see their islands pass from Spain to the United States. They rebelled in the name of an independent Philippines. And now Washington DC is getting word of a battle a few days ago between American and Filipino forces in Manila. Good God. So given this, what should the US do in the Philippines? This is precisely the issue on the lips of every senator in the chamber.

A well-built, one-eyed, 50-something Carolinian with a cleft chin rises to take the floor. This is Senator Benjamin Tillman. Standing before his fellow legislators, he points out that while the recent peace treaty with Spain gave the Philippines to the U.S., his colleagues might want to think twice before framing the Filipinos firing on U.S. servicemen as rebels. We may say they are rebels, and in strict legal interpretation, they may be rebels.

But let this war terminate how it will. History will declare that they are today patriots striving for what we fought for in our struggle with Great Britain in the last century. And now the question which addresses itself to every American who loves his flag and loves his great country is this. Are we to take the place of Spain as their taskmasters and tyrants?

That's a fair point considering that the Spanish-American War was supposedly about liberating Cuba from Spanish rule. Yet, Ben doesn't argue that the U.S. should remove itself. Instead, the gentleman from South Carolina points to how the British Empire runs the largely Dutch-settled South African Republic's foreign affairs while staying out of its domestic affairs. In other words, Britain's made it a protectorate.

And with that point made, Ben asks, "What more do we want in the Philippines than the right of a protectorate which will give us the control of their foreign policy, will keep away from those islands any outside interloper or land grabber or robber who might desire to gobble them up and enslave the people?" Ah, so for Ben, Spanish imperialism was bad, but US imperialism, like British imperialism, is benevolent protection.

And the senator has a recently published poem that he believes speaks to his claim. He continues, as though coming at the most opportune time possible, you might say just before the treaty reached the Senate, there appeared in one of our magazines a poem by Rudyard Kipling, the greatest poet of England at this time. This poem, unique and in some places too deep for me, is prophecy.

I do not imagine that in the history of human events any poet has ever felt inspired so clearly to portray our danger and our duty. It is called "The White Man's Burden." With the permission of the Senators, I will read a stanza. Take up the white man's burden. Send forth the best ye breed. Go send your sons to exile to serve your captives' need.

to weight and heavy harness, on fluttered folk and wild, your new-caught soul and peoples, half devil and half child." Finishing this stanza, the South Carolinian pauses. He then asserts that, as a southerner, he understands exactly the "burden" Rudyard Kipling is describing.

Ben questions, though, if this is something the United States should undertake in the Philippines, particularly given the death and misery his new favorite poet says is a part of the white man's burden. To quote Ben again, "...we of the South have borne this white man's burden of a colored race in our midst since their emancipation and before."

Why do we as a people want to incorporate into our citizenship ten millions more of a different or of differing races? Let us see what this English poet has to say about it and what he thinks. Take up the white man's burden. No iron rule of kings, but toil of serf and sweeper. The tale of common things. The ports ye shall not enter. The roads ye shall not tread.

Go make them with your living and mark them with your dead. Yes, death. Imperialism costs lives and considering the will of the Filipino people to fight, Ben thinks the deadly cost of imposing more than a U.S. protectorate in the Philippines is too high. He seeks to prove this by again turning to the English poet before adding some of his own analysis specific to the Philippines. At what sacrifice will the American domination be placed over them?

There is another verse of Kipling. I have fallen in love with this man. He tells us what we will reap. Take up the white man's burden and reap his old reward. The blame of those ye better, the hate of those ye guard, the cry of hosts ye humor. Ah, slowly to the light. Why brought ye us from bondage, our loved Egyptian knight?

Those people are not suited to our institutions. They are not ready for liberty as we understand it. They do not want it. Why are we bent on forcing upon them a civilization not suited to them and which only means in their view degradation and a loss of self-respect, which is worse than the loss of life itself? Why not tell these people now before further blood is shed?

We do not intend to do with you differently from what we do with the Cubans. We only want enough of your territory to give us a harbor of refuge, a naval station, the right to protect you from outside interlopers and to get such commercial advantages as you of right ought to give us. Pass a resolution of that kind and then if those people will not listen to reason and continue to fire on the flag,

I for one will say the blood will be on their own heads. Let slip the dogs of war and teach them to respect the stars and stripes. But we are there now upon a false pretense. We are there wrongfully. We are there without any justification to ourselves or to the civilized world. Ben yields the floor, leaving his colleagues to debate his interpretation of Rudyard Kipling and suggested U.S. Protectorate.

But do his fellow senators share his views? How many want a stronger response? Or, on the other hand, are anti-imperialist? Whatever their perspectives, one thing is certain: the U.S. Senate will find no easy answers today for the Philippines. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story.

Today, we've come to one of the most overlooked wars in the history of the United States, the Philippine-American War, or the Philippine War, or the Philippine Insurrection. Yeah, even naming this conflict brings challenges, and we'll get to that. But first things first, let's figure out how the Spanish-American War morphed into or birthed this war. That means discussing a few things we touched on in episode 105, but from a different angle.

From there, we'll hear about this battle that has the Senate so on edge, then follow the throwdown between U.S. forces and Emilio Aguinaldo's Philippine Army of Liberation. We'll witness battles, murder, guerrilla warfare, atrocities, and meet another future U.S. president before mostly ending the war in 1902. Plenty to do. So let's leave the U.S. Senate for the moment and go figure out how a war with Spain led to a war in the Philippines.

And to do that, we need to go one year back in time. Rewind. So, February 1898. It's on the 15th of this month that the USS Maine inexplicably explodes in Havana Harbor.

Now, I'm sure you remember that tragic day from episode 105, so I'll spare the details on this war-threatening explosion. But it's only a week and a half later, in late February, that Assistant Secretary of the Navy and soon-to-be Rough Rider, Theodore Roosevelt, telegraphs his friend in command of the U.S. Navy's Asiatic Squadron, Commodore George Dewey.

Teddy instructs George to keep his ships full of coal in British Hong Kong's waters and ready to move 600 miles to the southeast to attack the Spanish at their colony that is the Philippines. To quote Teddy, "Your duty will be to see that the Spanish squadron does not leave the Asiatic coast and then offensive operations in the Philippines islands." Now, hang on. If the US and Spain do indeed go to war, it will be over Cuba. So why hit the Spanish in the Philippines?

Well, notice the instructions said to keep this Spanish fleet in Asia. In other words, Teddy's saying, "George, don't let these Spanish warships steam across the Pacific and attack our west coast." Right. Such are the tactical concerns when you're a continent-wide nation warring against a global empire. George prepares his squadron accordingly. Teddy's cable proves spot on within the next few months.

Amid cries of "Remember the Maine," the US and Spain officially declare war in April. And on May 1st, George Dewey's squadron utterly demolishes the Spanish fleet in the Philippines' Manila Bay. Or perhaps I should call it George Dewey's Bay. This American commander and his wax-tipped walrus mustache are its indisputable masters by that evening. And with Spain needing to shore up its defenses in the Caribbean, there will be no further challenge in these Pacific waters.

George proceeds to blockade the bay, cut Manila's underwater cable, and bring a young Filipino revolutionary home, one Mr. Emilio Aguinaldo. We met Emilio in episode 105, but only briefly amid his return to the Philippines. Time to get to know him better. Born in the Manila Bay city of Cavite and of mixed Chinese and Tagalog descent, young Emilio once held civic offices and led a militia in his hometown.

But by the mid 1890s, he knew he couldn't rise any higher under a Spanish government. So he joined a clandestine group of some 30,000 seeking to cast off Spanish rule and establish an independent Philippine nation. This group was known as the Association or in the Tagalog language, the Katipunan. The Spanish learned of the Katipunan's existence in 1896 though.

This led to arrests, war, and soon a power struggle for control of the Katipunan between its founding leader, Andres Bonifacio and Emilio Aguinaldo. Emilio not only emerges the victor, he eliminates any further challenge. After a biased jury found Andres guilty of treason, Emilio sought to his predecessor's execution on May 10th, 1897. But even as the Katipunan's indisputable leader, Emilio and his jet black hair couldn't save the revolution.

By the end of the year, the young revolutionary found himself negotiating with Spain, and on December 14th, the two sides met at Vietnambato to sign a treaty. In it, the Spanish agreed to amnesty for the revolutionaries and a serious cash payment to Katipunan leaders. In return, these same leaders agreed to go into exile. And there it is. Now we know how and why Emilio Aguinaldo wasn't in the Philippines when Commodore George Dewey took Manila Bay in early May 1898.

But given that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, it's little wonder that the Commodore quickly arranges for the 29-year-old revolutionary's return to the Philippines via an American steamer on May 19th. George immediately provides Emilio with 100 rifles and instructs the U.S. consul in Hong Kong to buy and send 2,000 more to his new Filipino ally. This is everything Emilio needs to put himself back in control of the revolutionary movement.

Within a few short weeks, he declares the Philippines independent from Spain and organizes a new revolutionary government. Things are moving fast now, so let's slow our roll here for a minute. What on earth is or should the U.S. do here in the Philippines at this point? George Dewey has neutralized the threat of the Spanish squadron to the U.S. West Coast. That made good sense. But is this sufficient?

Or should the U.S. press beyond the large Philippine island of Luzon's Manila Bay and take the fight to the, at most, 15,000 Spanish soldiers holding Manila City? President William McKinley is unsure, but ultimately decides to send U.S. troops.

Thus, by July, over 10,000 U.S. soldiers are making use of formerly Spanish barracks just southwest of Manila and along the bay's coast in Cavite, while Filipino revolutionary Emilio Aguinaldo's forces of roughly 13,000, or the Army of Liberation, as it's now called, is encamped outside Spanish-held Manila. But don't mistake this as a functional, fill American alliance against the Spanish.

Relations between the U.S. military and the Army of Liberation are going downhill. All remains cordial enough, but neither side is sure it can trust the other. In this world of empires, the Filipinos wonder, will the U.S. really not take control of these islands? Meanwhile, the Americans wonder, can they really trust these poorly armed, clothed, and trained Filipinos to hold their own in a fight?

Worse still for the nominal alliance, some Americans hold prejudice against the Filipinos, like Brigadier General El Will Otis, who dismisses all of them as, quote, ignorant and very superstitious, close quote. Further, the president wants U.S. General Wesley Merritt to move on Manila and take the crucial, choked-off capital city of 70,000 people without the Filipinos so that there's no need to include them in the rapidly approaching treaty negotiations with Spain. And that's just what the general will do.

It's the morning of August 13th, 1898. Wind and rain rip through Manila as newly promoted Rear Admiral George Dewey's squadron bombards Fort San Antonio de Abad and Manila's other Bay defenses. Making use of this naval support, U.S. Army's 8th Corps snaps into action. Brigadier General Francis V. Green's men charge through slick, muddy terrain, chasing the Spanish from their trenches. On the right flank, Brigadier General Arthur MacArthur's forces tackle Blockhouse 14.

In a mere matter of hours, the stars and stripes are flying over Manila. It's a fast, resounding American victory. But the battle was, in truth, an act of theater. Already subsisting on horse meat, the Spanish knew they couldn't hold Manila. But declining as their empire might be, Manila's proud Spanish leaders couldn't just walk away. Nor did they want to surrender to the Filipinos, whom they feared would show no mercy against their former colonial rulers.

That's why the Spanish agreed to what correspondent John F. Bass calls a quote-unquote sham battle. The U.S. would attack without the Filipinos, while the Spanish would resist just enough at the outset to preserve Spanish honor, then hand the city of Manila to the Americans. And so, once several dozen young Spaniards and Americans had fallen lifeless in the Philippine rain and mud, Spanish leaders surrendered.

None of this would have happened had either side known their government signed an armistice only hours earlier. But alas, the outside world can't telegraph news to Manila. Remember, George Dewey cut the underwater cable. Now, we know that at the start of the Spanish-American War, the U.S. was only looking to nullify any Spanish naval threat that could emanate from the Philippines. But holding Manila Bay and city as peace talks begin, U.S. leaders can't help thinking about economic and military considerations.

The Philippines are so close to China in all its potential trade, and the archipelago is a great place for a naval coaling station. Further, some Americans argue, if the U.S. doesn't hold the Philippines, won't another imperial power seize them? Europe's been gobbling up the Pacific of late. France has French Indochina. Germany has imposed its rule on islands from Samoa to German New Guinea. And we've already noted the proximity of British Hong Kong.

Meanwhile, the idea that the United States can be a world leader that inculcates better values than these European powers is really popular with American voters. And the midterm elections are coming up. None of this is lost on President William McKinley. When the treaty is worked out that December, Spain will agree to hand sovereignty over the Philippines to the United States for the price of $20 million. But as this treaty is getting hashed out, what's happening on the ground in the Philippines?

To say the Battle of Manila further damaged the Phil-American relationship is beyond an understatement. In fact, as American troops prevent Filipino troops from entering Manila, the two sides nearly opened fire on one another that same day. New lines and fortifications go up between them. There is some diplomacy. Emilio Aguinaldo restores Manila's water supply while his men are permitted to visit the city, but tensions remain high.

Soldiers scuffle, Americans yell racial slurs, and if either side gets too close to a sentry, there's gunfire. But as the months wear on, as the peace treaty in which Spain hands the Philippines to the US is signed, and another wave of reinforcements brings the number of US troops in the Philippines up to some 20,000, only so many fists can be thrown and guns discharged before things escalate past the point of no return.

It's about 8:00 p.m. on the evening of February 4th, 1899. A patrol of three U.S. soldiers from the 1st Nebraska are making the rounds near a small village to the northeast of Manila. This is disputed territory or perhaps a neutral zone between the U.S. and Filipino forces. And as the patrol approaches Blockhouse 7, they encounter three Filipino soldiers. Do the Americans call on the Filipinos to halt as they continue to advance? Or do these Midwesterners fire without provocation?

I can't tell you. Sources conflict. All I can say for sure is that both sides are soon firing at each other. The Nebraskans book it back to their main lines. Guns flash in the dark of night as Filipino fighters challenge the American perimeter around Manila. Inside the city, revolutionary cells hear the crack of rifles and rise up. U.S. forces quickly subdue the urban fighters, and the American line around the city holds, but the firefight rages through the night and into the morning.

It's now Sunday morning, February 5th. Operating with sunlight, U.S. forces organize. With General Wesley Merritt's months-ago departure, General Elwell Otis now commands the U.S. Army, specifically the 8th Corps. His first division is under General Thomas Anderson. The second is under General Arthur MacArthur. Both will now go on the offensive, hitting different sides of Emilio Aguinaldo's Army of Liberation.

With ships in the bay and gunboats on the Pasig River, Rear Admiral George Dewey brings a rain of shells on the Filipinos' blockhouses and trenches. The First Division cheers and whoops as it advances. Filipino gunfire may hit some Americans, but it also makes their position known, and U.S. artillery quickly answers. But by that afternoon, American troops have advanced too far for the cannons to do the work. Bullets fly both ways while bayonets and knives puncture and slice at Blockhouse 11.

It's a similar tale for Arthur's men on the northeast side of Manila. With the same naval support this morning, his troops dash out across rice fields and fly past their initial objectives. As the afternoon wears on, they take Blockhouse 5, then Blockhouse 6, and the one where the first shots were fired last night, Blockhouse 7. And still, the Nebraskans and Coloradans charge forward. By the end of the day, they hold the high ground on the other side of the San Juan River.

As the sun sets, 59 Americans lay dead. 300 more are wounded. Meanwhile, the number of Filipino casualties is guesswork, somewhere in the thousands. And further skirmishes will follow for several days. After nearly half a year of growing distrust, insults, and even guns fired in smaller dust-ups, there will be no going back from what happened today. The Spanish-American War is over. The Philippine-American War has begun.

Are you earning and investing in the stock market? In real estate? How about in relationships? Are you earning and investing in your life? I'm Doc G, semi-retired hospice physician and host of the Earn and Invest podcast, where we have the 201 or next level conversations about money and life. Not only how you make money and grow it, but also how you use your wealth to create a better and more fulfilling existence. Join us every Monday and Thursday wherever you listen to fine podcasts.

The Battle of Manila, well, this most recent Battle of Manila, continues to some degree for over two weeks, from February 4th to 23rd, 1899. But February 5th and 6th are the heaviest days of fighting, and they deliver the U.S. military an incredible victory. This fills the 8th Corps' green troops with confidence and an assurance that being aggressive pays off. Conversely, Emilio Aguinaldo's Army of Liberation is despondent.

Historians will later note various reasons for the battle's surprisingly lopsided outcome, cultural differences, leadership, firing power, and more. But no one is thinking about these aspects at the moment. Right now, the Americans just look unstoppable. The battle is also impacting Washington, D.C., as the U.S. Senate considers the Spanish-American War Ending Treaty of Paris.

See, a sizable minority of U.S. senators, enough to threaten the needed two-thirds threshold to ratify, are uncomfortable with a treaty that somehow concludes a war for Cuban independence by expanding the United States' imperial reach. They reject the idea that the United States should hold sovereignty over the Philippines or any other islands, be that to benefit the U.S. economy or to quote-unquote civilize them.

Senator George Frisby Hoare of Massachusetts represents this anti-imperialist view when he asserts, "I claim that under the Declaration of Independence you cannot govern a foreign territory, a foreign people, another people than your own; that you cannot subjugate them and govern them against their will because you think it is for their good, when they do not; because you think you are going to give them the blessings of liberty.

You have no right at the cannon's mouth to impose on an unwilling people your declaration of independence and your constitution and your notions of freedom and notions of what is good. But President Will McKinley's hopes for this treaty aren't dead. Plenty of senators disagree with their New Englander colleague, instead saying that the United States' high-minded ideals of self-government are not universal.

They point to the exclusion of Native Americans and African Americans from full civil rights to make this point and call the anti-imperialists the real hypocrites. As Senator Albert J. Beveridge from Indiana argues, "The Declaration of Independence only applies to people capable of self-government. How dare any man prostitute this expression of the very elect of self-governing peoples to a race of Malay children of barbarism schooled in Spanish methods and ideas."

And you, who say the Declaration applies to all men, how dare you deny its application to the American Indian? And if you deny it to the Indian at home, how dare you grant it to the Malay abroad? But perhaps the February 1899 Battle of Manila clinches the treaty, as David Silbey so perfectly puts it in his book, A War of Frontier and Empire, quote, a vote against annexing the islands after February 4th was a vote against the troops, close quote.

Thus, just as we heard in this episode's opening, the Senate ratifies the treaty, barely surpassing the requisite 56 votes, with 57 in favor, 27 against. And of course, it's the next day, February 7th, that Senator Benjamin Tillman argues in favor of a U.S. protectorate while quoting Rudd Kipling's poem, The White Man's Burden, subtitled as The United States and the Philippines.

Readers and scholars alike will argue ardently and well into the 21st century over whether the British poet is a blatant racist or being satirical. But regardless of other takes, it's clear that Senator Ben Tillman takes Rudd seriously. Enough of Washington, D.C., though. Let's head back to the Philippines. Following the Battle of Manila, General Elwell Otis goes on the offensive. Talk about a step backwards from President Will McKinley's policy of, quote-unquote, benevolent assimilation.

Last December, the commander-in-chief instructed Elwell to use, and I quote, the strong arm of authority to repress disturbance, close quote, yet also convinced the Filipinos, if I may quote Will once more, that the mission of the United States is one of benevolent assimilation. But with respect, Elwell Otis isn't the man for such a delicate job. This general with drooping mutton chops not only thinks little of Filipinos, but

He's known for being moody, micromanaging, and is generally disliked. Not to lay the blame entirely on him, but between the inherent challenges of the benevolent assimilation policy and Elwell's lack of tact, it isn't surprising that we have war in the Philippines. But as February advances, so do U.S. forces, including a campaign among a cluster of Central Philippine islands known as the Visayas.

Not that Emilio Aguinaldo's upper-class, Tagalog-oriented nationalist movement is welcome on these isles. It's just that the United States isn't either. By mid-February 1899, Panay Island's Iloilo city is in ruins under the stars and stripes. We'll circle back to the Visayas later, but for now, let's just keep in mind that this island-to-island campaign won't be over anytime soon. At the same time, General Elwell Otis is still on the large northern island of Luzon contending with Emilio Aguinaldo's forces.

Elwell believes that he's primarily dealing with an Emilio-led Tagalog insurrection. If he can end that, the U.S. president's benevolent assimilation policy will be well poised to move forward. So, the mutton-chop-wearing commander sends General Arthur MacArthur's roughly 10,000-strong 2nd Division northward to capture Emilio Aguinaldo, his Army of Liberation, and the Philippine Republic's capital, the city of Malolos.

The campaign begins in earnest on March 25, 1899. Supported by artillery, U.S. troops splash through rivers and traverse jungles in two columns. They attack the Army of Liberation's defensive positions, but the fast-moving Americans quickly find they have another enemy as well: Sunstroke. The sweltering heat brings down some of the advancing troops, while others ditch as many supplies as they dare, including their food and bayonets. Difficult as these conditions are, though, they continue to dislodge Filipino fighters.

Much like the Battle of Manila, it seems the Americans are unstoppable. And so it continues. Within the next day or so, US forces press across the Tuliahan River. The Army of Liberation avoids capture but continuously falls back. In doing so, its commander, Antonio Luna, takes a page from the Napoleonic Wars playbook. He goes scorched earth, putting to torch the villages through which the army retreats, hoping this will impede the Americans.

But unlike the Russians of nearly a century ago, Antonio isn't fighting a massive 500,000 man army living off of the land as it goes. He accomplishes little more than destroying civilian homes as General Arthur MacArthur's men continue north. Come March 31st, the exhausted 2nd Division arrives at Malolos. Arthur is prepared for a major throwdown. Instead, the American general and his men encounter the smallest resistance, mostly snipers.

They find Malolos generally abandoned, and as they reach the city center, it inflames. It seems the still-retreating Army of Liberation is even willing to go scorched earth on its capital. Meanwhile, President Emilio Aguinaldo is nowhere to be found. His whole government has fled. Arthur MacArthur may not have captured the president or his army, but with the capital in hand and few U.S. casualties, this week-long campaign has proven a great success. The Americans see more victories in the months to come.

In April, Arthur and his men press north to Columpet and again best the Army of Liberation. Meanwhile, Emilio and his northward fleeing government are barely hanging on. They establish a new capital in San Ysidro, only to lose it to U.S. forces under General Henry W. Lawton on May 17th. Worse still for the nationalists, President Emilio Aguinaldo and the Army of Liberation's commander, Antonio Luna, are at each other's throats.

Antonio wants to reform the army. Ironically though, his initiative also makes him a threat to Emilio's power. It's now reported that Emilio is saying either he will kill Antonio or Antonio will kill him. The statement is truer than some realize. It's June 5th, 1899. Just a few days ago, the president sent a telegram to General Antonio Luna asking to meet at a convent in the latest Philippine Republic capital, Cabanatuan, to chat about possible changes in the government.

Okay, here he is. With companions waiting outside, the thick mustache wearing and quick tempered commander enters the convent alone. He sees a familiar face. It's Captain Pedro Janolino and this doesn't please him. Antonio bellows out, don't you remember that I disarmed you because of your cowardice? Who reinstated you?

Timidly, the captain indicates upstairs and answers, "The officials up there were the ones, sir, who did. Well, I will settle you all presently." Ascending the stairs, Antonio encounters Felipe Buencamino, who informs the general that President Emilio Aguinaldo is not here. Angrily, Antonio exclaims, "Why didn't they tell me that they were going away? We just wasted our energy in coming over." But then, a rifle shot rings out from below.

This is exactly the sort of incompetence that drives Antonio's desire for reform. He flies down the stairs, yelling, "Now I am more convinced than ever that you don't know how to handle a gun!" Now, what follows is technically disputed, but few will believe it's Antonio Luna's fault. But regardless of who instigates this fight, we know a bolo knife soon slashes the general's ear and temple. Guns unholster and knives fly as the presidential guards join in the fray.

Sliced, bleeding, Antonio staggers out of the convent. His loyal officers, Colonel Francisco Roman and Captain Eduardo Rusca are mortified. They dash toward the general until the presidential guard starts firing. Francisco is pumped full of lead at such close range his lifeless body smokes and sizzles. Meanwhile, Eduardo is hit in the leg. He crawls toward a church and returns fire from its portal until he gets a bullet in the head.

Incredibly though, the now unconscious captain will live to tell his tale. Gushing blood, Antonio makes his way to the plaza. With painful effort, he raises his gun and squeezes off a shot. That's all he can do. This is over, and he knows it. Mustering all his remaining strength, Antonio faces his assailants and calls out, "Gowards! Assassins!" Those are his last words.

Few, if any, will believe General Antonio Luna provoked this. Most are certain that Emilio Aguinaldo eliminated a viable threat to his leadership the same way he secured it after taking power from Andres Bonifacio, by arranging for his competitor's untimely death. But as the months pass, it increasingly appears that Emilio secured the presidency of an untenable regime. He is losing this war.

The U.S. Navy is running a blockade, and U.S. reinforcements, along with the newly formed Native Filipino Auxiliary Corps, are swelling General Elwell Otis' army. He launches another campaign as the monsoon season ends in October. Emilio flees into the mountains and establishes himself at Bayambong, knowing he can't win. Not with his present tactics, at least. On November 13th, he proclaims the end of conventional warfare. His forces will shift to guerrilla tactics in the next two months.

General Elwell Otis finds this encouraging. In his mind, the war is coming to a close. He will later report that by the end of 1899, quote, the insurgent government and army were destroyed and all important islands were placed fairly well under United States supervision. War in its proper meaning had ceased to exist, close quote.

Perhaps his reports have impacted President Will McKinley because he's looking to establish an American-led civil government in the Philippines at this point to continue his benevolent assimilation policy. In January 1900, he pins these hopes on Judge William Taft. A content, heavy-set federal judge in Cincinnati, Ohio, William Taft has no interest in going to the Philippines. Frankly, he's a staunch opponent of the U.S. being on the islands.

But the president convinces him that point is now moot. The Philippines is in the hands of the U.S., period. And therefore, the commander-in-chief argues, it behooves the United States to govern them until such time as their people had learned the difficult art of governing themselves. William Taft agrees with that conclusion, but he loves being a federal judge. Why would he give up his lifetime appointment for this?

The president has an answer for that. All I can say to you is that if you give up this judicial office at my request, you shall not suffer. If I last and the opportunity comes, I shall appoint you. That's right. Will McKinley just promised Will Taft a decent shot at a nomination to the U.S. Supreme Court. Damn, that's not a guarantee. But this federal judge with a world-class handlebar mustache can't pass it up.

He agrees to lead the Second Philippine Commission, or Taft Commission as it's also called, which will oversee the transition from military rule to civilian government on the archipelago. Fully believing in the benevolent assimilation mission, the Taft Commission arrives in the Philippines that summer, June 1900. But its members aren't greeted by General Elwell Otis. At his request, Elwell left last month.

Instead, William Taft is going to work with, or rather argue with, the new commander and present U.S. military governor, Arthur MacArthur. We've encountered Arthur a number of times here in the Philippines. Although his career will later be utterly eclipsed by that of his son currently at West Point, Douglas MacArthur, you'd never know that today. Arthur is a seasoned, respected commander.

And he doesn't share the view of his predecessor, Elwell Otis, the president, or incoming William Taft, that the U.S. has beaten the nationalists, or insurgents, and that most Filipinos will now welcome American government and tutelage. Arthur's taking the guerrillas seriously. This year, 1900, guerrilla fighters have killed well over 100 American servicemen between January and April alone. And the attacks are growing more frequent. Guerrillas ambush, kill, then disappear into the jungle.

American troops know the fighters who've killed their friends are somewhere among the innocent civilians in the villages, but it's impossible to identify them. Everyone proclaims friendship with cries of amigo, amigo. Arthur offers blanket amnesty to all guerrillas in June, but few take up the offer. To the Americans, these aren't freedom fighters seeking to dislodge an occupying foreign power. They see insurgents unwilling to engage in a fair fight.

But at the same time, stories of American troops committing atrocious acts are starting to surface as well. There's word of U.S. servicemen burning villages, killing lawful prisoners, and implementing something they call the "water cure." This same summer of 1900, a letter written by the 32nd Volunteer Infantry Regiment's A.F. Miller appears in the Omaha World Herald.

The letter tells of how they used this quote-unquote cure to get a gorilla to give up a secret cache of weapons. Quote, Now, this is the way we give them the water cure. Lay them on their backs, a man standing on each hand and each foot. Then put a round stick in the mouth and pour a pail of water in the mouth and nose. And if they don't give up, pour in another pail. They swell up like toads. I'll tell you, it is a terrible torture. Close quote.

American reliance in the Philippines on the use of the "water cure" or "water boarding" as it will later be called, is sometimes exaggerated. Nonetheless, the water cure, beatings, and other such methods are used to get detainees to talk. And toward the end of the year, on December 20, 1900, General Arthur MacArthur announces that U.S. forces will combat guerrilla warfare by employing the harshest provisions permissible under General Order 100.

Signed by President Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War, General Order 100, often referred to as the Libra Code, reigns in some of the worst behaviors of war. No surprise, really, considering the document's aim was to govern the conduct of a war in which brothers fought each other. It forbids pillaging, raping, wanton violence, states that receipts are to be given when the military seizes private property, and so on. But it does not look kindly on, quote,

Men who commit hostilities without sharing continuously in the war. Translation, guerrillas who attack one moment but blend into the crowd and cry amigo the next. According to Article 82, Close quote.

In other words, harsh things are coming their way, including in some circumstances, execution without trial. The general isn't calling for anarchy, but this increased latitude is all some of his troops need to act punitively, cruelly even, as they're faster to destroy crops or execute rather than capture. And so, as 1900 gives way to 1901,

Even as William Taft seeks to establish local governments, build roads, and bring hundreds of American teachers to the islands, even with the anticlimactic capture and capitulation of Emilio Aguinaldo between March and April, the war most certainly isn't ending. It's only changing, growing darker. And as we enter the latter half of 1901, the worst of that darkness is yet to come. It's early morning, roughly 6 a.m., September 28th, 1901.

We're in the small, coastal, American-held town of Balangiga on the Philippines' Visayan island of Samar. A bugle sounds, and the soldiers of Company C, 9th Infantry, know what that means. Breakfast time. The men emerge from their makeshift barracks and make their way to the mess area. As the soldiers shuffle toward the mess tents, they see local police chief Valeriano Abanador. They think nothing of his presence here.

True, relations with the local population aren't good, a result of some American troops looting and raping, as well as Captain Thomas Connell re-concentrating up to 100 Filipino men as forced laborers. But Valeriano is a common sight here. He oversees that forced labor. So again, nothing to note as the Americans load their plates and dig in. But suddenly, all hell breaks loose.

Valeriano grabs a mess hall sentinel's gun and attacks while crying out for reinforcements. Church bells ring out and on that signal Filipinos skilled with bolo knives rush out of the church and the tents falling on the half-awake, breakfasting Americans. Pandemonium reigns as the unarmed, grossly outnumbered 74 men of Company C attempt to defend themselves.

Bolo slice and hack through limbs and skulls. The Americans respond with improvised weapons: pots, baseball bats, even cans of food.

One powerfully built private throws large rocks. A survivor will later recall him, quote, "hurling at the natives, bowling them over like ninepence," close quote. Dashing past the sight of their friends dead and dying, in some cases with their brains hanging out, a minority of Americans escape the mess area and retrieve their guns. They establish a defensive position on the beach. Even still, they can't hold off the Filipino fighters.

Seeing they've lost the land altogether, the Americans jump in their nearby boats and row off. After days of exposure on the water, they arrive at another American outpost. Of the 74 Americans at the Balangiga garrison, 48 are dead, and all but two of the 26 survivors are wounded. Filipino fighters and the U.S. Army could not view what happened at Balangiga more differently.

To the Americans, this is yet another dishonest insurgent attack against the United States' legitimate forces working to pacify the archipelago for its own good. Indeed, the cold calculating police chief proved himself a thorough guerrilla. He may as well have called out amigo amigo as he lured dozens of the boys in blue to their deaths. But that's not what the Filipinos see.

To them, their freedom fighters struck a much-needed blow against a foreign occupying power whose men rape, plunder, and rely on forced labor while paying lip service to the ideas of progress civilization. They do not see the U.S. bringing benevolent assimilation, as President William McKinley says. Well, as he said, an assassin's bullet killed the president earlier this very month. No, the Filipinos see tyranny that's no better than the Spanish.

So, the Filipinos call Balangiga a battle, but the Americans call it a massacre. And in their rage, the violence escalates. Within days, U.S. troops razed the town completely. The only evidence that anyone ever lived here are the crumbling walls of what was the church. Worse still is the leadership of General Jacob H. Smith.

General Arthur MacArthur is long gone by this point. But the new top brass in the Philippines, Adna R. Chafee, sends Jacob Smith at the head of the 6th Separate Brigade to strike hard at the island of Samar. He takes this job to the extreme. Jacob Smith soon picks up a new nickname, Howling Wilderness Smith. This reflects his alleged orders to his men to make Samar into a, quote, howling wilderness.

He also reportedly gives the following instructions. I want no prisoners. I wish you to kill and burn. The more you kill and burn, the better you will please me. I want all persons killed who are capable of bearing arms in actual hostilities against the United States. Marine Battalion Commander Littleton Waller will later state that when he asks what the age cutoff is on this, Howling Wilderness Smith fires back. 10 years old.

Now, Littleton isn't on board. He tells his battalion not to kill children, but this isn't a guarantee that I'll listen, nor does it stop other atrocities. What the 6th Brigade does on Samar is horrific. They burn villages, destroy property, and kill or capture hundreds and hundreds as they pound the island into submission. News will travel to the US, and Jacob Smith will be court-martialed and found guilty, but the punishment is mere reprimand followed by his retirement.

And even still, a question lingers. To what extent was Howling Wilderness Smith an outlier among honorable commanders or just the scapegoat who took the fall? Skirmishes continue as we enter 1902. The Islamic Moro people of the Southern Islands will continue to fight for over a decade. But for most intensive purposes, the war in the Philippines is wrapping up.

As summer approaches, both Congress and the VP turned president in the wake of Will McKinley's assassination, Rough Rider Theodore Roosevelt, are eager to call the war officially over. It's a beautiful summer's day in late June 1902 in Washington, D.C. W. Leon Pepperman is seated, waiting in President Theodore Roosevelt's office. Leon has been in Washington for a little while now, watching as the Philippine Organic Bill wends its way through Congress.

And he's invested in this civil government creating bill. As secretary to William Taft's commission in the Philippines, Leon's involved in the archipelago's transition from military to civilian rule. He knows this bill is the next crucial step and should be signed soon. So Leon, who's worked with Teddy previously, is here today to ask a favor of him. Ah, but hold that thought. Here he comes.

Entering the room, the bespectacled, mustachioed young president happily greets his old friend, Leon. They discuss the Civil Service Commission, but only briefly before Leon makes his big ask. He wants a pen. That's right. We're talking about a mere five-cent, steel-tipped, black-handled instrument. But it's special to Leon Pepperman. He wants the pen that will sign the Philippine Organic Bill ending the war in the Philippines. He'd love to take that back to his post on the archipelago.

Teddy looks at the earnest civil service secretary. While future presidents will have to sign bills with multiple pens to please the many seeking such an honor, that's not a thing yet. And Teddy's happy to oblige. He promises his old friend, "You shall certainly have it. I shall be delighted to give it to you. Here, Cortell, you make a note of this. Mr. Peppermint is to get the pen that signs the Philippines bill." Leon leaves the office delighted, knowing he'll soon hold a bit of history.

It's now the morning of July 3rd, 1902, and Teddy is at the Capitol prepared to sign the Philippine Organic Bill. It contains meaningful promises, such as laws that will protect life, liberty, and property, the right to freedom of speech, the press, and religion, as well as a bicameral legislature. The upper house will be appointed, but the lower house will be elected by popular vote.

Well, a far cry from independence, but the Filipinos will have a meaningful voice. And tomorrow, Teddy will even issue a proclamation granting amnesty to all Filipino fighters while stating that the war is over. Oh, and it's no accident that he'll do this on the 4th of July. But that's tomorrow. Back to today. Wielding his five-cent steel-tipped black-handled pen, Teddy affixes his signature to the Philippine Organic Bill.

He then turns to his dear friend, the pro-imperialist Republican senator from Massachusetts, Henry Cabot Lodge, and completely forgetting his promise to Leon Peppermint, hands him the pen. Worse yet, before the morning's out, the senator gives it to someone else, a prominent native Filipino who once served in Emilio Aguinaldo's cabinet and is now a member of the Taft Commission, Felipe Buen Camino. Oh, that just makes everything awkward. Leon's not going to take this well.

Soon after the signing ceremony, Leon calls on the president. Surely, Teddy is expecting some sort of congratulations, but the secretary isn't about it. He wants that damn pen! Looking at his dear old friend, the president, Leon says, "The only way you could square yourself is by making me a major general in the army or give me the pen with which you will sign the amnesty proclamation." Teddy bursts into laughter. Is this guy serious? The rough rider reassures his quirky friend.

You shall certainly have it. If you don't get it, I'll see that you have the shoulder straps. So, what do we make of the Philippine-American War? Or the War in the Philippines? Or insurgency as the imperialist crowd saw it? First, let's address deceased President William McKinley's policy of benevolent assimilation.

Historians in the 21st century will roundly reject the idea that the rapidly overseas expanding United States exercised an altruistic form of imperialism that simply helps its quote-unquote little brown brothers, as William Taft puts it. Most will see the U.S. as following the example of European powers, which also explain expansion and conquest as a means of improving those over whom they established dominion. La mission civilatrice, the civilizing mission, according to the French.

Or, to point back to Rudyard Kipling's poem, "The White Man's Burden." Second, we come to the atrocities of the war. Later, in the 20th century, the narrative of the Philippine-American War shifts from one of altruism to one of barbary as Americans confront the atrocities committed during the war. While no historian wishes to hide these horrors, Brian McAllister-Lynn suggests in his book, The Philippine War, that this narrative too can become an oversimplification.

He writes, The actual war was a far more complex and challenging phenomenon than either of these superficial interpretations acknowledge. Close quote. Historian David Silbey reinforces this point.

He concludes in his book, A War of Frontier and Empire, quote, Close quote.

Most interesting, as Professor Silbey also notes, is how despite the ugliest aspects of the war, the 20th century United States will become far more accepting of Filipinos than most minority groups, and relations between the islands and quote-unquote Mother America will in fact become quite strong. From changing the life trajectory of future President William Taft to giving the U.S. its first experience fighting guerrillas overseas, there are so many other aspects of the Philippine-American War we could discuss. I'll leave you to ponder that, though.

But next time, we'll head back a few years and back to the States to get a glimpse of how this war impacts the presidential election of 1900. Are American voters digging William McKinley's expansionist policies? Or have they become anti-imperialist enough to put William Jennings Bryan in the White House? That's right. It's time for a presidential rematch.

And

Thank you.

Mark Price

Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jam, Nick Sekinder, Noah Hoff, Paul Goeringer, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, S.B. Wade, Sean Pepper, Sharon Thiesen, Sean Baines, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson. Join me in two weeks, where I'd like to tell you a story.