FEDERALIST No. 8

The Consequences of Hostilities Between the States

From the New York Packet.

Tuesday, November 20, 1787.

HAMILTON

To the People of the State of New York:

ASSUMING it therefore as an established truth that the several

States, in case of disunion, or such combinations of them as might

happen to be formed out of the wreck of the general Confederacy,

would be subject to those vicissitudes of peace and war, of

friendship and enmity, with each other, which have fallen to the lot

of all neighboring nations not united under one government, let us

enter into a concise detail of some of the consequences that would

attend such a situation.

War between the States, in the first period of their separate

existence, would be accompanied with much greater distresses than it

commonly is in those countries where regular military establishments

have long obtained. The disciplined armies always kept on foot on

the continent of Europe, though they bear a malignant aspect to

liberty and economy, have, notwithstanding, been productive of the

signal advantage of rendering sudden conquests impracticable, and of

preventing that rapid desolation which used to mark the progress of

war prior to their introduction. The art of fortification has

contributed to the same ends. The nations of Europe are encircled

with chains of fortified places, which mutually obstruct invasion.

Campaigns are wasted in reducing two or three frontier garrisons,

to gain admittance into an enemy's country. Similar impediments

occur at every step, to exhaust the strength and delay the progress

of an invader. Formerly, an invading army would penetrate into the

heart of a neighboring country almost as soon as intelligence of its

approach could be received; but now a comparatively small force of

disciplined troops, acting on the defensive, with the aid of posts,

is able to impede, and finally to frustrate, the enterprises of one

much more considerable. The history of war, in that quarter of the

globe, is no longer a history of nations subdued and empires

overturned, but of towns taken and retaken; of battles that decide

nothing; of retreats more beneficial than victories; of much

effort and little acquisition.

In this country the scene would be altogether reversed. The

jealousy of military establishments would postpone them as long as

possible. The want of fortifications, leaving the frontiers of one

state open to another, would facilitate inroads. The populous

States would, with little difficulty, overrun their less populous

neighbors. Conquests would be as easy to be made as difficult to be

retained. War, therefore, would be desultory and predatory.

PLUNDER and devastation ever march in the train of irregulars. The

calamities of individuals would make the principal figure in the

events which would characterize our military exploits.

This picture is not too highly wrought; though, I confess, it

would not long remain a just one. Safety from external danger is

the most powerful director of national conduct. Even the ardent

love of liberty will, after a time, give way to its dictates. The

violent destruction of life and property incident to war, the

continual effort and alarm attendant on a state of continual danger,

will compel nations the most attached to liberty to resort for

repose and security to institutions which have a tendency to destroy

their civil and political rights. To be more safe, they at length

become willing to run the risk of being less free.

The institutions chiefly alluded to are STANDING ARMIES and the

correspondent appendages of military establishments. Standing

armies, it is said, are not provided against in the new

Constitution; and it is therefore inferred that they may exist

under it.1 Their existence, however, from the very terms of the

proposition, is, at most, problematical and uncertain. But standing

armies, it may be replied, must inevitably result from a dissolution

of the Confederacy. Frequent war and constant apprehension, which

require a state of as constant preparation, will infallibly produce

them. The weaker States or confederacies would first have recourse

to them, to put themselves upon an equality with their more potent

neighbors. They would endeavor to supply the inferiority of

population and resources by a more regular and effective system of

defense, by disciplined troops, and by fortifications. They would,

at the same time, be necessitated to strengthen the executive arm of

government, in doing which their constitutions would acquire a

progressive direction toward monarchy. It is of the nature of war

to increase the executive at the expense of the legislative

authority.

The expedients which have been mentioned would soon give the

States or confederacies that made use of them a superiority over

their neighbors. Small states, or states of less natural strength,

under vigorous governments, and with the assistance of disciplined

armies, have often triumphed over large states, or states of greater

natural strength, which have been destitute of these advantages.

Neither the pride nor the safety of the more important States or

confederacies would permit them long to submit to this mortifying

and adventitious superiority. They would quickly resort to means

similar to those by which it had been effected, to reinstate

themselves in their lost pre-eminence. Thus, we should, in a little

time, see established in every part of this country the same engines

of despotism which have been the scourge of the Old World. This, at

least, would be the natural course of things; and our reasonings

will be the more likely to be just, in proportion as they are

accommodated to this standard.

These are not vague inferences drawn from supposed or

speculative defects in a Constitution, the whole power of which is

lodged in the hands of a people, or their representatives and

delegates, but they are solid conclusions, drawn from the natural

and necessary progress of human affairs.

It may, perhaps, be asked, by way of objection to this, why did

not standing armies spring up out of the contentions which so often

distracted the ancient republics of Greece? Different answers,

equally satisfactory, may be given to this question. The

industrious habits of the people of the present day, absorbed in the

pursuits of gain, and devoted to the improvements of agriculture and

commerce, are incompatible with the condition of a nation of

soldiers, which was the true condition of the people of those

republics. The means of revenue, which have been so greatly

multiplied by the increase of gold and silver and of the arts of

industry, and the science of finance, which is the offspring of

modern times, concurring with the habits of nations, have produced

an entire revolution in the system of war, and have rendered

disciplined armies, distinct from the body of the citizens, the

inseparable companions of frequent hostility.

There is a wide difference, also, between military

establishments in a country seldom exposed by its situation to

internal invasions, and in one which is often subject to them, and

always apprehensive of them. The rulers of the former can have a

good pretext, if they are even so inclined, to keep on foot armies

so numerous as must of necessity be maintained in the latter. These

armies being, in the first case, rarely, if at all, called into

activity for interior defense, the people are in no danger of being

broken to military subordination. The laws are not accustomed to

relaxations, in favor of military exigencies; the civil state

remains in full vigor, neither corrupted, nor confounded with the

principles or propensities of the other state. The smallness of the

army renders the natural strength of the community an over-match for

it; and the citizens, not habituated to look up to the military

power for protection, or to submit to its oppressions, neither love

nor fear the soldiery; they view them with a spirit of jealous

acquiescence in a necessary evil, and stand ready to resist a power

which they suppose may be exerted to the prejudice of their rights.

The army under such circumstances may usefully aid the magistrate

to suppress a small faction, or an occasional mob, or insurrection;

but it will be unable to enforce encroachments against the united

efforts of the great body of the people.

In a country in the predicament last described, the contrary of

all this happens. 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 continual necessity for

their services enhances the importance of the soldier, and

proportionably degrades the condition of the citizen. The military

state becomes elevated above the civil. The inhabitants of

territories, often the theatre of war, are unavoidably subjected to

frequent infringements on their rights, which serve to weaken their

sense of those rights; and by degrees the people are brought to

consider the soldiery not only as their protectors, but as their

superiors. The transition from this disposition to that of

considering them masters, is neither remote nor difficult; but it

is very difficult to prevail upon a people under such impressions,

to make a bold or effectual resistance to usurpations supported by

the military power.

The kingdom of Great Britain falls within the first description.

An insular situation, and a powerful marine, guarding it in a great

measure against the possibility of foreign invasion, supersede the

necessity of a numerous army within the kingdom. A sufficient force

to make head against a sudden descent, till the militia could have

time to rally and embody, is all that has been deemed requisite. No

motive of national policy has demanded, nor would public opinion

have tolerated, a larger number of troops upon its domestic

establishment. There has been, for a long time past, little room

for the operation of the other causes, which have been enumerated as

the consequences of internal war. This peculiar felicity of

situation has, in a great degree, contributed to preserve the

liberty which that country to this day enjoys, in spite of the

prevalent venality and corruption. If, on the contrary, Britain had

been situated on the continent, and had been compelled, as she would

have been, by that situation, to make her military establishments at

home coextensive with those of the other great powers of Europe,

she, like them, would in all probability be, at this day, a victim

to the absolute power of a single man. 'T is possible, though not

easy, that the people of that island may be enslaved from other

causes; but it cannot be by the prowess of an army so

inconsiderable as that which has been usually kept up within the

kingdom.

If we are wise enough to preserve the Union 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. Extensive

military establishments cannot, in this position, be necessary to

our security. But if we should be disunited, and the integral parts

should either remain separated, or, which is most probable, should

be thrown together into two or three confederacies, we should be, in

a short course of time, in the predicament of the continental powers

of Europe --our liberties would be a prey to the means of defending

ourselves against the ambition and jealousy of each other.

This is an idea not superficial or futile, but solid and weighty.

It deserves the most serious and mature consideration of every

prudent and honest man of whatever party. If such men will make a

firm and solemn pause, and meditate dispassionately on the

importance of this interesting idea; if they will contemplate it in

all its attitudes, and trace it to all its consequences, they will

not hesitate to part with trivial objections to a Constitution, the

rejection of which would in all probability put a final period to

the Union. The airy phantoms that flit before the distempered

imaginations of some of its adversaries would quickly give place to

the more substantial forms of dangers, real, certain, and formidable.

PUBLIUS.

1 This objection will be fully examined in its proper place, and

it will be shown that the only natural precaution which could have

been taken on this subject has been taken; and a much better one

than is to be found in any constitution that has been heretofore

framed in America, most of which contain no guard at all on this

subject.