from cause to effect, a great deal of doubt still remains as to how
far secret diplomacy in itself,--that is, the failure to publish
to parliament and the people, details of the situation as it
developed,--could properly be considered the specific cause of the
war; no matter how definite may be our judgment and belief that the
secrecy and tortuousness of foreign policy are bound to generate an air
of uncertainty and suspicion which will so greatly favor militarist
intrigues and influence as to render the making of wars far more easy
than they would otherwise be, were time and opportunity given to the
public to consider the details of a critical situation. Yet it might
be difficult to prove by historic evidence, the specific proposition
that the war of 1914 was directly due to the fact that the development
of international affairs was quite generally kept from the knowledge
of the public. Nevertheless, unquestionably the atmosphere of secret
diplomacy is a medium exactly suited to the most baneful influences.
Viscount Haldane has made a strong defense of the policy of Sir Edward
Grey. He asserts that “the failure of those who had to make the effort
to keep the peace, does not show that they would have done better had
they discussed delicate details in public.” He continues: “There are
topics and conjunctures in the almost daily changing relations between
Governments as to which silence is golden. For however proper it may be
in point of broad principle that the people should be fully informed
of what concerns them vitally, the most important thing is that those
to whom they have confided their concerns should be given the best
chance of success in averting danger to their interests. To have said
more in Parliament and on the platform in the years in question, or
to have said it otherwise, would have been to run grave risks of more
than one sort.” This defense, however, also makes certain assumptions,
particularly the underlying one that the war was not to be avoided by
any method. It is based on the traditional concept of foreign affairs
which considers that it is best to leave them at the discretion of a
few initiated and responsible officials. There can be no question that
from the highest plane conceivable under the older ideas and norms of
diplomacy, the conduct of foreign relations by Sir Edward Grey must be
considered as a model of sagacity and caution. But when Lord Cromer
describes the secret arrangements concerning Morocco as “a wise measure
of preventive diplomacy,” it is not easy to follow him.
VII
THE CRISIS OF 1914
If secret diplomacy exhibits its drawbacks even in a country where
parliamentary government is so highly developed as in England and
where political intelligence and independence of judgment exist, we
shall not be surprised at the continuous prevalence of devious methods
in diplomacy in countries where the conduct of foreign affairs is
considered quite frankly a matter only for the initiated, and where
little pretense is made of an appeal to public opinion except in the
sense of holding it in subjection by vague general ideas of national
danger, necessity, and honor. The main faults of German diplomacy
were due to its bureaucratic point of view and its lack of contact
with public opinion, both at home and abroad. It was distinctly
an expression of the authoritative will of the state, guided by a
supposed inner knowledge of its dangers and needs, but without any real
effort to strengthen itself through contact with the public mind. The
Reichstag was indeed occasionally informed of foreign developments,
perhaps as frequently as in England, but there was no real mutual
influence between the nation and the officials conducting foreign
affairs. As has already been pointed out, German diplomacy failed to
reassure either the neighbors or the people of Germany; its lack of
clear objectives was puzzling and disquieting. It was also hurt by
its constant, evident dependence on what should have been only the
very last resort--military force. A further disquieting characteristic
of German politics was that there seemed to be a cynical approval of
certain courses of action which might indeed resemble what some other
nations were doing, but which were treated by the latter rather as
regrettable necessities. Thus there is, for instance, the conception of
_Realpolitik_, of which Frederick the Great’s statement is an extreme
instance: “Before declaring my intentions I consider on the one side
the adverse incidents which I must risk; on the other, the good fortune
which I might hope; and after thorough consideration of pro and con, I
decide for war.”
Coming now to the fateful crisis of 1914, it would appear that at this
time a great danger was allowed to grow up without the men in control
of the government giving themselves a full account as to the fatal
probabilities involved, whereas the parliament and the public remained
entirely uninformed. Germany had always more or less backed her
Austrian ally in the Balkan policy of the latter. Bismarck had indeed
been very cautious in this respect, and had been fully aware of the
danger inherent in such a policy, of committing Germany through giving
Austria too much head. When the Servian question became acute, the
heads of the German Government were indeed so reckless in encouraging
strong Austrian action as to justify the impression that they desired
to push Austria-Hungary into a conflict. It would, however, appear,
from a full study of all the data which is now possible, that the
Kaiser and Bethmann-Hollweg were quite optimistic in believing that
the conflict could be localized and that the solution could be left
to Austria and Servia. When it was beginning to become quite clear
that Russia would in this instance not stand aside and that therefore
France, too, would be thrown into the conflict, the German Chancellor
began to make belated efforts to induce Austria to accept the mediation
of the Powers on the basis that Belgrade should be occupied to assure
compliance with the Servian promises. The Austrian premier, Count
Berchtold, however, was not inclined to reverse his engines. He took
advantage of the encouragement given to Austria in the first place, to
persist in an irreconcilable attitude toward Servia. The documentary
material which has so far been published, shows that Berchtold
insinuated to the Russian and British embassies that he was favorable
to mediation; meanwhile, he did not answer the proposals to that effect
made from Berlin, but in fact stubbornly pursued his stern policy
against Servia. In turning a deaf ear to all proposals of mediation at
this time, Berchtold gave the militarists at Berlin and Petrograd the
control of the situation.
Berchtold had inherited the Balkan policy of Aehrenthal, who had in
1909 carried out the ambition of laying the two Slavic Provinces,
Bosnia and Herzegovina, “at the feet of Emperor Francis Joseph at his
Sixtieth Jubilee.” Count Berchtold himself was not considered a man
of strong initiative; he vacillated and was undecided upon questions
of great moment; he, however, displayed great stubbornness on the
fatal point that the “honor” of Austria-Hungary did not permit of
any mediation with Servia. Count Forgach, who was his chief adviser,
hated Russia and Servia intensely, and it is believed that he was very
influential in spurring Count Berchtold to aggressive action. Countess
Leutrum holds him responsible for the war, “next to Aehrenthal.” The
German Ambassador at Vienna, Von Tschirsky, also harbored a great deal
of personal resentment against Russia. There would appear to be great
reason to doubt whether such efforts as Bethmann-Hollweg made to urge
moderation upon Berchtold were strongly emphasized by the personal
influence of the German ambassador. Count Czernin states that all of
Herr von Tschirsky’s private speeches at this time were attuned to
“Now or Never,” and he asserts that the German ambassador declared
his opinion to be “that at the present moment Germany was prepared
to support our point of view with all her moral and military power,
but whether this would prove to be the case in future if we accepted
the Serbian rebuff appears to me doubtful.” Count Czernin believes
that Tschirsky in particular was firmly persuaded that in the very
near future Germany would have to go through a war against France and
Russia, and that he considered the year 1914 would be more favorable
than a later date. Count Czernin adds: “For this reason, because first
of all he did not believe in the fighting capacity of either Russia or
France, and secondly, because--and this is a very important point--he
was convinced that he could bring the Monarchy into this war, while
it appeared doubtful to him that the aged and peace-loving Emperor
Francis Joseph would draw the sword for Germany on any other occasion
where the action would center less round him, he wished to make use of
the Servian episode so as to be sure of Austria-Hungary in the decisive
struggle. That was his policy, and not Bethmann’s.... I am persuaded,
however, that Tschirsky, in behaving as he did, widely overstretched
his prescribed sphere of activity. Isvolsky was not the only one of his
kind.”
It is not the purpose of this essay to enter into the difficult
question of the specific guilt for bringing on the war of 1914.
However, in examining the quality and methods of contemporary diplomacy
it is not possible to avoid considering some of the phases of this
difficult question. The documents and other evidence which have
recently been published, make it appear that Bethmann-Hollweg, when
the terrible crisis was actually at hand, honestly attempted to bring
about a moderation of the course pursued by Austria. The original
belief of the German statesman itself could, however, be accounted
for, only on one of two alternative reasons, either because of an
unbelievable lack of foresight, or the conviction that a threatening
attitude would again, as in 1909, be successful, and that Russia would
not dare to follow up her constantly declared interest in the Servian
situation. And if worst should come to worst, “well then,” the German
leaders seemed to think, “now will be better than later.” No matter
what reasonable occasion German statesmen had during the years leading
up to the war to fear a hostile policy on the part of neighboring
governments, yet their attitude and action at a critical time shows
uppermost in the minds of these statesmen and diplomats, a narrowly
tactical, primarily bureaucratic, view of the factors involved. There
was always present in the background the notion of the necessity of
a preventive war. Those who make the actual decision to begin a war
without any immediate provocation making it plainly defensive, who
begin it because of contingent dangers in the future, no matter how
great, take a very serious responsibility. As has been said, the
indicative “Germany made war,” is far more apt to leave a powerful
impression in the record of history than the subjunctive, “If Germany
had not made war then the others would have done so later on.”
The fact that military action against Servia would probably involve
Russia and thus set in motion the complete chain of international
forces involving Europe in a world war, that is, the futility of the
attempt to localize the struggle in Servia, is practically admitted in
the statement of the German White Book, issued August 3, 1914, to the
following effect: “We were aware of the fact that warlike undertaking
against Servia would bring Russia into the war and that therefore our
duty as an ally might entangle us likewise. We could, however, not
advise our Ally to yield in a manner incompatible with its dignity, nor
could we deny our assistance at this difficult moment.”
Austria-Hungary had judged that it would be incompatible with its
dignity and honor to submit the Servian matter to arbitration. This
illustrates a very characteristic feature of contemporary diplomacy,
still adhering to the traditions and prejudices of the past. The
term “honor” is one that is not translatable into terms which can be
reasoned about. It is in fact a direct descendant of the conception of
“honor” during the eighteenth century, in the code of the duelist. Men
constantly translate the concepts of their private life into public
affairs, and to these men who at Vienna, Petersburg and Berlin, had
the destiny of the world in their hands, honor was an indefinable term
which could be felt but not discussed. In practice, when applied to
human affairs of the utmost importance, it cannot be distinguished from
the character of the personal duel, in which the conception of justice
was entirely subordinate. When it was said that Austria-Hungary found
arbitration “beneath its dignity,” there was speaking the mentality of
the Feudal junker who considers himself too noble to appeal to a court
against a peasant neighbor, but prefers to send his servants to give
him a thrashing. The honor of Austria-Hungary is of such a special
kind in the mind of these men that it does not suffer arbitration, but
sees in war the only possible satisfaction. In this as in many other
points, secret diplomacy is a superstition of the past. As late as May,
1916, the _Pester Lloyd_, a semi-official paper, declared: “Even if the
Russian Government had stopt its mobilization, which it had secretly
begun notwithstanding all its hypocritical assurances, nevertheless
Austria-Hungary would not have gone to any conference but would have
insisted without interference from third parties to settle its affairs
with Servia in consonance with the future security of Austria-Hungary.”
It would appear plain that the Austrian leaders wanted war, but with
Servia alone; trusting that the formidable power of their great ally
would again block outside intervention.
Thus when we look at the men in whose hands at this time such a fateful
power of decision was placed, we find them, as the great crisis
approaches, themselves stunned by the enormity of the forces about to
be unchained, seeking still and hoping for some fortunate escape; yet
guided in their specific action, not by a general masterly grasp of
the entire situation, such as is ordinarily expected of the diplomatic
superman, but just by details happening to be most prominent in their
mind, such as the incompatibility of arbitration with the honor of
Austria, or the personal judgments and inclinations of individual
diplomats. As to a correct estimate of how the forces would work out,
as to foresight of determining factors, these men showed no unusual
ability; in fact, the guess of the intelligent man on the street would
have been as safe as their judgment. They stood on too narrow a base;
they believed that Italy would remain neutral, that England would not
enter the contest, and later that the United States would never engage
in hostilities. When we consider the mental attitude of the controllers
of foreign affairs in all countries during this long period of secret
manipulations, we can find nothing sacrosanct about the deductions
and judgments of secret diplomacy; in fact, the lack of contact with
public opinion and the deeper forces of life, is everywhere painfully
apparent. A Swiss writer has stated: “The World War is the work of a
small minority of men in power. Their power rests on the principle of
authority, and on the erroneous supposition of wisdom and foresight
exceeding the average. The means of maintaining this erroneous
supposition is secret diplomacy, which deprives the people of all
possibility of insight and control in the most momentous questions. The
result of this system is the ruin of Europe.” It is too great a risk
to take, to leave in the hands of individual men, no matter how highly
gifted personally, the control of such forces and the playing of such
chances.
In Russia, the conduct of foreign affairs under the Empire was in the
hands of a narrow group of men of special training and experience, but
without an element of responsibility to the public at large, except
that involved in the general results of diplomatic policy. It is a
notable fact that during the nineteenth century only six men held the
position of foreign ministers in Russia. This is by far the longest
average tenure in any country. Sazonov, who became foreign minister
in 1911, further emphasized the esoteric character of foreign policy
by definitely divorcing it from home affairs. He did not consult
with the Council of Ministers, but only with men of his own chosen
environment, a select group of a few collaborators. Russian foreign
policy was therefore controlled by a very small clique, representing
the traditions of secret diplomacy, and playing at a game of chance,
though never so shrewdly, with the lives, fortunes and interests of
vast populations. In the Balkan states Russian diplomacy had for a
long time applied all its arts in order to establish the predominance
of Russian influence. The secret alliance between Servia and Bulgaria
was nurtured by Russia evidently with the desire of raising a barrier
to the eastward expansion of Austrian influence. In 1912, the fear was
entertained that the alliance might spend its main efforts against
Turkey instead of Austria. At this time a loan was arranged for King
Ferdinand of Bulgaria, the funds for which were advanced by the Czar.
The Russian Foreign Office was fully informed concerning the Balkan
alliance, which commenced the war in 1912 with Russian assent and
encouragement. What direction the thoughts of Russian diplomats were
taking, is apparent from a remark of Sazonov, Russian Minister of
Foreign Affairs, to the Servian Minister, on April 29, 1913, reported
by the latter as follows:
“Again Sazonov told me that we must work for the future because
we would acquire a great deal of territory from Austria. I
replied that we would gladly give Bulgaria Monastir (Bitollia) if
we could acquire Bosnia and other territory of Austria.”
A Belgian diplomat, in a report written from Berlin in 1913, says that
notwithstanding the great Russian influence in the Balkans, Russian
diplomacy had vacillated a great deal there since the beginning of
the Balkan war; he goes on to say: “In a moment of confidence the
French ambassador spoke particularly concerning the influence which M.
Isvolsky has maintained, who has a personal desire of revenge against
Austria-Hungary, and takes great pains to spoil the game whenever there
is any appearance of Austrian success.” (Baron Beyens to the Belgian
Minister for Foreign Affairs, March 18, 1913.)
When the great crisis came on, the diplomacy of Russia worked in close
connection with the militarists. The irreconcilable stubbornness of
Count Berchtold greatly strengthened the hands of the militarists,
both in Petersburg and Berlin, and virtually put the decision in their
hands. The Russians did their part to bring on the war by first
ordering mobilization and making that mobilization general almost
immediately. The facts concerning this matter have become known. On
July 29, 1914, General Janushkevich, the Russian Minister of War, under
directions from the Foreign Minister Sazonov, gave the German military
attaché his word of honor as a soldier, to the effect that “no general
mobilization had taken place, or was desired.” At the very time, he
had with him the Czar’s mobilization order. During the night of July
29th, the Czar gave directions to suspend the execution of the order
for general mobilization. Generals Janushkevich and Sukhomlinoff, with
the approval of M. Sazonov, made the momentous decision to go on with
the execution of the order, in disregard of the Czar’s command. It is
quite evident that this action made the peaceful settlement of the
crisis far more difficult, and gave full control into the hands of
the military party in Berlin. As late as July 31, M. Viviani told the
German Ambassador at Paris that he was in no way informed of a general
mobilization in Russia. The Russian militarists had got away.
VIII
THE SECRET TREATIES OF THE WAR
While the war lasted, the demands of self-protection required the
careful concealment of negotiations and policies from enemy knowledge.
But though it is easy to understand the need of secrecy at such a
time, yet the spirit displayed in these negotiations had but little in
common with the ideals professed in the same breath. Moreover, there
was a lack of complete sincerity among the Allies themselves, and
particularly was there a concealment from some of them of important
facts and agreements affecting their interests. However, the most
baneful effect of secret diplomacy during the war is found in the
undermining of public confidence in a moral foundation of public
action. As Lord Loreburn says: “It was not wholesome that while our
people were stimulated to unparalleled exertions by a parade of lofty
motives there should be at the same time in existence agreements of
this kind, of which no public mention could be made, and from which
little has resulted except the right of foreign Powers to demand
their fulfilment on our part.” That at a time when the people in the
vast armies were actually fighting for ideals of freedom and peace,
common to humanity, the chief care of responsible statesmen should have
been the division of prospective spoils, did certainly not lay solid
foundations for peace.
Japan in her action with respect to Shantung and in secretly making the
twenty-one demands on China, was first in the attempt to utilize the
great struggle for narrowly selfish gain, in this case not entirely
at the expense of the enemy but of a neutral and of her allies. Nor
did other governments keep themselves free from the temptations of
prospective conquest, with the risk of making war interminable and
putting the world face to face with revolution, anarchy and famine.
As early as February, 1915, the Russian Foreign Minister informed
the French and British ambassadors of the territorial acquisitions
which Russia desired to make through the war, including a great part
of Turkey in Europe and in Asia. The French and British Governments
expressed their readiness to agree, provided a number of claims made by
France and England were satisfied. Italy entered the war, as is well
known, on condition of her claims for territorial annexations being
satisfied. She agreed to the Russian demands on the same condition.
On March 9, 1916, the Russian Foreign Minister instructed the Russian
Ambassador at Paris to the following effect: “It is above all necessary
to demand that the Polish Question should be excluded from the
subjects of international negotiation, and that all attempts to place
Poland’s future under the guarantee and control of the Powers should
be prevented.” Thus did the Russian Government attempt secretly to
lock the door against any chance of Poland regaining her lost national
rights. The entry of Roumania in 1916 led to additional arrangements.
These agreements were kept strictly secret and the millions who were
laying down their lives in the war had no conception of this intricate
web of bargains.