As the war dragged on and became increasingly unpopular, a congressman took to the House floor and demanded that the president justify the fighting.
"Allow the president to invade a … nation, whenever he shall deem it necessary to repel an invasion and you allow him to do so, whenever he may choose to say he deems it necessary for such purpose – and you allow him to make war at pleasure," the congressman said.
The president was James K. Polk.
The war was the Mexican-American War.
The congressman was Abraham Lincoln.
I'm reading Walter R. Borneman's biography of Polk (Polk: The Man Who Transformed the Presidency and America) and I’m enjoying it.
For the most part it's straightforward biography, but Borneman takes time occasionally to point out echoes from the Polk administration in more recent U.S. history.
The most significant one – and the transformation of the presidency referred to in the title – is way Polk rushed the declaration of war against Mexico through Congress.
The nation's only previous war, the War of 1812, started with a full Congressional debate that seemed to take seriously the Constitution's rule that only Congress could declare war.
But before the Mexican-America War formally started Polk massed U.S. troops along the disputed Texas-Mexico border (at a time when Mexico wasn't recognizing U.S. claims to Texas) and got a fight that killed U.S. troops.
Then he asked for a war declaration.
If he hadn't gotten his provoked fight, he was going to ask for the war anyway, Borneman shows, but with the shedding of "American blood upon American soil," as Polk said in his message to Congress, he was able to push through a virtually undebated war resolution.
The "American blood" part was certainly true, but the "American soil" question would come back to haunt Polk.
The provoked-incident, questionable-evidence, fast-rush-to-war strategy would be the model for almost every president's war actions after Polk.
So too would be the unfulfilled promise of quick victory.
So too would be the pattern of America souring to the taste of war after it had more time to consider issues.
After the war started, Polk came back to Congress to ask for money to prosecute it. Increasing dissatisfaction with the way the war started and suspicions that the war was meant to extend the amount of territory available to slavery led to the debate over an ultimately unsuccessful amendment mandating that there would be no slavery in any territory added to the U.S. as a result of the war, the so-called Wilmot Proviso.
The Whigs in Congress found an issue in the war that they weren't afraid of exploiting against Polk and the Democrats, although they risked being accused of not supporting the troops.
In the subsequent mid-term election, Polk's Democrats lost control of the House of Representatives to the Whigs, including freshman Rep. Lincoln, who made a name for himself insisting that the president show Congress what spot of American soil that first American blood was spilled on.
It's hard to argue against the results of the Mexican-American War. Despite my previous snide comment about the threatened Texas secession, it's hard to image the United States without Texas, or California, or New Mexico or Arizona.
But it's peculiar that the lesson the Polk administration seems to have taught subsequent presidents was the method to wiring around the Constitution's intent to leave the power to declare war in the people's body, Congress. Perhaps the better lesson would have been that doing so doesn't stop the political process from rolling back to the issue only with more bitterness and recrimination after American troops and treasure have been committed.
Of course, the only way to celebrate James K. Polk, is with They Might Be Giants. Check out the little boy in the long-sleeve sweater in the foreground. If I'm not mistaken, I recognize either a future Polk fan, or a kid who needs to get to the bathroom. The symptoms are often the same.:
