There were other similarities. Both Afghans and Moros adhered to a weapons culture. Every adult male Moro wore a blade and, when possible, sported a firearm. Both modern Afghans and nineteenth-century Moros often "used" American occupiers as a convenient cudgel to settle tribal feuds. The Moros even had a precursor to the modern suicide bomber, a "juramentado" who ritualistically shaved his body hair and donned white robes before fanatically charging to his death in blade-wielding fury against American troops. So fearful of them and respectful of their incredible ability to weather gunshot wounds were U.S. soldiers that the Army eventually replaced the standard-issue .38 caliber revolver with the more powerful Colt .45 pistol.
When, after defeating the Spanish fleet in Manila Bay and forcing the quick surrender of the garrison there, the U.S. annexed the Philippines via the 1898 Treaty of Paris, the Moros weren't consulted. Spanish rule had always been tenuous in their territories and few Moros had even heard of Paris. They certainly hadn't acceded to American rule.
Early on, U.S. Army officers deployed to Moroland contributed to the locals' sense of independence. General John Bates, eager to focus on a daunting Filipino uprising on the main islands, signed an agreement with Moro tribal leaders pledging that the U.S. would not meddle with their "rights and dignities" or "religious customs" (including slavery). Whatever his intentions, that agreement proved little more than a temporary expedient until the war in the north was won. That Washington saw the relationship with those tribal leaders as analogous to its past ones with "savage" Native American tribes was lost on the Moros.
Though the Bates agreement held only as long as was convenient for American military and political leaders, it was undoubtedly the best hope for peace in the islands. The limited initial U.S. objectives in Moroland -- like the similarly constrained goals of the initial CIA/Special Forces invasion of Afghanistan in 2001 -- were so much wiser than the eventual expansive, futile goals of control, democratization, and Americanization in both conflicts. U.S. Army officers and civilian administrators couldn't countenance for long Moro (and later Afghan) practices. Most advocated the full abrogation of the Bates agreement. The result was war.
Leadership by Personality: Different Officers, Views, and Strategies
The pacification of Moroland -- like that in the "war on terror" -- was run mostly by young officers in remote locales. Some excelled, others failed spectacularly. Yet even the best of them couldn't alter the strategic framework of imposing "democracy" and the "American way" on a distant foreign populace. Many did their best, but due to the Army's officer rotation system, what resulted was a series of disconnected, inconsistent, alternating strategies to impose American rule in Moroland.
When the Moros responded with acts of banditry and random attacks on American sentries, punitive military expeditions were launched. In the first such instance, General Adna Chaffee (later Army chief of staff) gave local Moro tribal leaders a two-week ultimatum to turn over the murderers and horse thieves. Understandably unwilling to accept American sovereignty over a region their Spanish predecessors had never conquered, they refused -- as they would time and again in the future.
Colonel Frank Baldwin, who led the early campaign, applied brutal, bloody tactics (that would prove familiar indeed in twenty-first-century Afghanistan) to tame the Moros. Some younger Army officers disagreed with his approach, however. One, Captain John Pershing, complained that Baldwin "wanted to shoot the Moros first and give them the olive branch afterwards."
Over the next 13 years of rotating commanders, there would be an internal bureaucratic battle between two prevailing schools of thought as to how best to pacify the restive islands -- the very same struggle that would plague the post-9/11 "war on terror" military. One school believed that only harsh military responses would ever cow the warlike Moros. As General George Davis wrote in 1902, "We must not forget that power is the only government that [the Moros] respect," a sentiment that would pervade the book that became the U.S. Army's bible when it came to the twenty-first-century "Arab mind."
Others, best personified by Pershing, disagreed. Patiently dealing with Moro leaders man-to-man, maintaining a relatively light military footprint, and accepting even the most "barbaric" local customs would, these mavericks thought, achieve basic U.S. goals with far less bloodshed on both sides. Pershing's service in the Philippines briefly garnered attention during the 2016 presidential campaign when candidate Donald Trump repeated a demonstrably false story about how then-Captain John Pershing (future commanding general of all U.S. forces in World War I) -- "a rough, rough guy" -- had once captured 50 Muslim "terrorists," dipped 50 bullets in pig's blood, shot 49 of them, and set the sole survivor loose to spread the tale to his rebel comrades. The outcome, or moral of the story, according to Trump, was that "for 25 years, there wasn't a problem, OK?"
Well, no, actually, the Philippine insurgency dragged on for another decade and a Muslim-separatist rebellion continues in those islands to this day.
In reality, "Black Jack" Pershing was one of the less brutal commanders in Moroland. Though no angel, he learned the local dialect and traveled unarmed to distant villages to spend hours chewing betel nut (which had a stimulating effect similar to modern Somali khat) and listening to local problems. No doubt Pershing could be tough, even vicious at times. Still, his instinct was always to negotiate first and only fight as a last resort.
When General Leonard Wood took over in Moroland, the strategy shifted. A veteran of the Geronimo campaign in the Apache Wars and another future Army chief of staff -- a U.S. Army base in Missouri is named after him -- he applied the scorched earth tactics of his Indian campaigns against the Moros, arguing that they should be "thrashed" just as America's Indians had been. He would win every single battle, massacring tens of thousands of locals, without ever quelling Moro resistance.
In the process, he threw out the Bates agreement, proceeded to outlaw slavery, imposed Western forms of criminal justice, and -- to pay for the obligatory American-style roads, schools, and infrastructure improvements -- imposed new taxes on the Moros whose tribal leaders saw all of this as a direct attack on their social, political, and religious customs. (It never occurred to Wood that his taxation-without-representation model was also inherently undemocratic or that a similar policy had helped catalyze the American Revolution.)
The legal veneer for his acts would be a provincial council, similar to the American Coalition Provisional Authority that would rule Iraq after the 2003 U.S. invasion. That unelected body included Wood himself (whose vote counted twice), two other Army officers, and two American civilians. In his arrogance, Wood wrote to the American governor of the Philippines, future President William Howard Taft: "All that is necessary to bring the Moro into line and to start him ahead is a strong policy and vigorous enforcement of the law." How wrong he would be.
Career advancement was Leonard Wood's raison d'Ã ªtre, while knowledge about or empathy for the Moro people never ranked high on his list of priorities. One of his subordinate commanders, Major Robert Bullard -- future commander of the 1st Infantry Division in World War I -- noted that Wood exhibited "a sheer lack of knowledge of the people, of the country... He seemed to want to do everything himself without availing himself of any information from others."
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