KING EDWARD’S UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO SET THE NEAR EAST ABLAZE
THE BOSNIAN CRISIS
The policy of Great Britain in the Near East has undergone frequent and
apparently unaccountable modifications. At times England supported the
Sultan, at others she was against him; she would one day preach the
doctrine of the sanctity and inviolability of the Dardanelles treaties,
and the next day she would herself send a fleet into the Dardanelles.
The same Power which was full of enthusiasm for the integrity of the
Ottoman Empire would later on, amidst plentiful groans and sighs, steal
a piece of that Empire for itself. With a stentorian voice which could
be heard over the whole world, the British Government denounced the
“atrocities” in Armenia or Macedonia; and at the very same moment
emissaries sent out from London, and notably the famous “Balkan
Committee,” were busy, in Armenia or Macedonia or elsewhere, stirring up
trouble and creating disturbances which caused the very “atrocities” in
question to be perpetrated. We see England working hand-in-hand
alternately with Russia and with Austria-Hungary. Where is the thread
connecting the whole of British policy in the Near East during the last
twenty-five years?
Sultan Abdul Hamid was, for British statesmen, the incorporation of
everything bad and detestable. They pretended to feel disgusted even
when pronouncing his name. He had failed to carry out the reforms which
he promised after the Russo-Turkish war; he was an “oppressor,” he
allowed “atrocities” to be committed in Armenia and Macedonia. The
English even declared, with an expression of unutterable disgust, that
Abdul Hamid occasionally caused “undesirable” persons to be done away
with. In reality, this intensely virtuous indignation was due chiefly to
the knowledge that Abdul Hamid was an extremely clever politician and
diplomatist, and to the fact that he would not consent to renounce his
claims to Egypt. Abdul Hamid had the most disagreeable habit of raising
the Egyptian question from time to time, and precisely at the very
moment when it was least convenient for the British Government. He had
the further extremely disagreeable habit of keeping up, with the utmost
skill, a game of ball between the Great Powers, in which the ball was
never definitely caught and always rebounced. The Sultan used to play
off the one against the other, and in his able hands Turkey’s chronic
“sickness” became a valuable diplomatic asset. England’s aim was, of
course, to bring the Turkish Empire entirely under British influence,
and then to deal with its various component parts according as
circumstances required. The first object of British statesmen was to
combat Russia’s efforts to obtain possession of Constantinople and the
Dardanelles. In order to attain this object, it was necessary to treat
the Porte alternately as a friend and as an adversary. Albeit, mistress
of the oceans and of the Mediterranean, Great Britain was, until the
conclusion of the _Entente Cordiale_, seriously uneasy about Russia’s
desire to obtain, in conjunction with France, a solution—if need be by
force of arms—of the Dardanelles question.
Shortly after the accession of the Emperor William II to the throne, an
entirely new factor in the politics of the Near East arose. The first
journey of the German Emperor to Constantinople attracted the attention
of Europe. This journey was displeasing to Russia, and consequently gave
satisfaction to England. The German Government declared that its
friendship with Turkey aimed exclusively at the obtention of economic
advantages, and that it entertained no political ambitions whatsoever.
The first railroad concessions to German companies in Turkey followed,
and formed the beginning of the future great Bagdad undertaking. Ever
since that first visit of the German Emperor to Constantinople, the
friendship between Germany and Turkey has continued almost without
interruption. The explanation is to be found in the simple fact that the
German Empire is the only Power which did not wish to increase its
influence or its possessions at the expense of the sovereignty of the
Sultan, of the financial and economic strength of the Ottoman Empire,
and of the latter’s territorial integrity.
It is evident that England’s traditional policy in the Near East could
not but make her regard the friendly and confidential relations between
Germany and Turkey with the greatest dissatisfaction. It was, in the
first place, an insult to England that the new Power Germany should
venture to enter the ranks of the nations which were interested in
Turkey. England was all the more uneasy, because her statesmen clearly
recognised that Germany’s policy of maintaining and strengthening Turkey
was not a mere pretext, but honest truth. England did not want a strong
Turkey, and did not dream of tolerating one. The stronger Turkey became,
the less could Egypt be relied on—and the more intimate, also, must
become the connection between Constantinople and the Islamitic world.
Precisely this connection appeared to England, who rules over so many
millions of Mussulmans, as a grave danger for her in India, Central
Asia, and Africa. And we know that British statesmen are extraordinarily
far-sighted in all matters where danger of any sort is to be detected.
In addition to all this there remained the main source, as usual, of
British anxiety: the market. It was disgraceful and unheard-of, an
insult and an unfriendly act, that German industry should dare to
penetrate ever more and more into the Ottoman Empire. British industry
had already a hard struggle to maintain itself here against the French
and the Austro-Hungarians. And now the Germans came on the scene!
England’s uneasiness was increased by the projected German railroads;
and ever since the beginning of the new century she did all she could
during ten years, in conjunction with France and Russia, to hinder the
construction of the Bagdad line. The Germans encountered here a
fundamental principle of British policy; and all such principles, as we
have often shown, have their roots in British trade. England has
invariably been the most decided adversary of all great railroad
undertakings—in so far as they were not in British hands or under
British control. British statesmen have always been well aware of the
fact that every important railroad which is withdrawn from British
control, diminishes British sea power and British maritime trade. The
mistress of the seas controlled all the waterways of the world, which
she could shut or open as she pleased. The “world’s carrier” had at her
disposal a trading fleet vastly superior to all others, an immense
quantity of harbors owned by herself, to say nothing of all the other
harbors in the whole world. Through these harbors British goods find
their way into the markets all over the globe; each one of such harbors
constitutes a basis for the conquest of new markets. As far as railroads
were of use in assisting British goods to conquer the markets, they were
naturally welcomed by Great Britain as instruments of civilisation and
progress, and as preparing the way for international fraternity. But
whenever it so happened that a railroad did not start from a harbor—that
is to say whenever it served to open up directly a Continental market
for a Continental State—British indignation knew no bounds; for money
was now being earned, and the English had no share in the profits. Thus
was England deeply incensed by the construction of the Siberian
railroad, and still more so by the prolongation of the latter through
Manchuria to Port Arthur. As for the German plan of a Bagdad railroad,
i. e. of a line connecting Constantinople (or, if you will, Berlin) with
the Persian Gulf, it was in the eyes of the English a direct challenge.
It was also an unheard-of insolence, and an “unfriendly act” on the part
of the German Government.
The time-honored antagonism of England and Russia in the Near East was
bridged over by the Triple Entente. The latter had more than one basis.
On the one hand, there was England’s hatred, and the coalition which
that hatred had forged against Germany; on the other hand, there was
Russia’s detestation of Austria, and her traditional need of expansion
towards Constantinople and the Dardanelles. In addition to these factors
there came the doctrine of Panslavism, and this doctrine proved a most
useful auxiliary of the above-mentioned “expansive tendencies” of the
Russian Government; last but not least came the “guardianship” of all
the Balkan peoples, which Russia regarded as a part of her historical
mission. British policy had succeeded in checking Russia by means of the
Japanese War, and of the conventions concerning Persia and Central Asia;
with rare skill had England then managed to concentrate the entire
expansive activity of Russia in the Near East. England was here in need
of the Russian army. Russia, whom we may well call, as far as Oriental
politics are concerned, the hereditary enemy of England, was now
employed by the London Cabinet as a battering-ram against Germany and
Austria-Hungary.
During many years Russia and Austria-Hungary had maintained a compromise
in the Balkans, whereby the solution of the thorny questions at issue
was postponed. The same remark applies to the relations between
Austria-Hungary and Italy. The latter country’s interest in the Balkans
had up till now been limited, albeit France, after her reconciliation
with Italy, steadily endeavored to distract Italy’s attention from
Tripoli and Tunis, and to turn it towards Albania. On the other hand,
the marriage of the King of Italy with a Montenegrin Princess had _ipso
facto_ drawn Italy and Russia nearer each other, for the princely House
of Montenegro is connected by marriage with the Russian imperial Family.
The ancient quarrels between Vienna and Rome, and especially the
ever-present hatred of the Irredentists, furnished England likewise with
admirable instruments for her “policy of sowing dissension.” Finally did
Turkey herself become an aim—and an important aim—of Italian policy.
The center-points of the Young Turk movement, of the political
importance of which Germany took no notice until a very late period, and
which she probably underestimated up till the last minute—the
center-points of this movement were in Paris and London. The Young Turks
received in these cities their political education, and to a large
extent also the resources necessary for their propaganda. The latter had
as its object the introduction of more liberal conditions into the
Turkish Empire. A _conditio sine qua non_ of this introduction was the
putting aside of Abdul Hamid. England had always intensely hated Abdul
Hamid, especially since he had become a friend of the German Emperor.
The London Cabinet was of opinion that the cordial relations between
Germany and Turkey were due exclusively to Abdul Hamid, and that the
personal friendship between the two Sovereigns had alone rendered
possible the railroad and other concessions to Germany. The aim of
British policy was, consequently, to get rid of Abdul Hamid as soon as
possible. The Balkan Committee and other British emissaries set about
stirring up dissatisfaction in the Turkish Empire against him, wherever
it was possible to do so; no expenditure was too great for them; it must
be admitted that, in such cases, England and her agents are never
“stingy” as regards money.
In 1905 Great Britain succeeded, under King Edward’s guidance, in
obtaining the abrogation of the Mürzsteg Convention which
Austria-Hungary and Russia had concluded two years previously. In its
place an agreement between the six European Powers was drawn up.
England, on this occasion, assumed the leadership; the Island was able
to dictate to the Continent in a purely Continental matter. A remarkable
phenomenon, and a proof of the ever-growing world-power of England!
England’s new policy in the Balkans was labelled “Macedonian Reforms.”
The London Cabinet took the matter up as accredited spokesman; and
France, Russia, and Italy followed in the track of the British
Ministers. Since 1903 King Edward went every year to Vienna or Ischl, in
order to visit Emperor Francis Joseph, and to develop the “historical
friendship” between Austria-Hungary and England. This “historical
friendship” had invariably consisted in the fact that Austrian and
Hungarian statesmen were weak and shortsighted enough to allow their
countries to be misused by England for her own purposes. King Edward’s
aim, at the time of which we are treating, was to induce Austria-Hungary
to let herself be taken in tow by England in the Balkans. If he had
succeeded in this, it was inevitable that dissension should break out
between Vienna and Berlin. This was what King Edward intended; for in
this way, not only would Germany’s Oriental policy have been undermined,
but the position of the German Empire in Europe would have been
weakened. And it should be remembered that Great Britain thus changed
her policy in the Near East at the very moment of the European tension
due to Morocco, and immediately after the Russo-Japanese War.
In 1908 the Austro-Hungarian Minister for Foreign Affairs, Baron
Aehrenthal, published the decision of the Imperial and Royal Government
to build a railroad through the Sandjak of Novi-Bazar. The object of
this railroad was to establish direct communication between Bosnia and
Salonica, and the Treaty of Berlin of 1878 gave Austria-Hungary the
right to build it. None the less did the announcement of her intentions
create a storm of indignation in Europe. The first peals of thunder came
from the direction of Great Britain. It is true that the treaty rights
of Austria-Hungary could not be denied either in London or Paris or St.
Petersburg; but Austria’s action was declared incompatible with the
spirit underlying all disinterested international co-operation. The
intention was attributed to Austria of utilising her policy of economic
expansion towards the Ægean Sea as a sort of “forerunner” for a policy
of political expansion, which should bring her eventually to Salonica.
In reality the storm in question was directed against Germany rather
than against Austria-Hungary. It was hoped to intimidate the latter, and
by means of this intimidation to separate her from Germany. The English
Press declared that the evident intention was to bring the Balkan
Peninsula and the whole of the Near East under Germanic hegemony. The
“Servian Question,” which was later on to be predominant, appeared on
the scene; and under England’s leadership, Russia, France, and Italy all
supported Servia when she declared that her vital interests would be
most seriously endangered by the projected railroad. The Panserb
programme included the annexation of the Sandjak of Novi-Bazar by
Servia; and the construction of an Austrian railroad through it would
have therefore constituted a grave impediment to the realisation of such
aims.
The wholly unexpected attitude of England caused profound surprise in
Austria-Hungary, who felt herself deeply injured thereby. The fact was
that she had never, up till now, realised the real motives of British
policy. Austria was proud of her ancient friendly relations with Great
Britain; she was conscious of having in former times rendered the latter
appreciable services; and, ever since the formation of the anti-German
coalition, her statesmen and press had been fond of insisting on the
fact that no dissensions existed, or were even conceivable, between the
two Powers. Ever since the beginning of the Anglo-German estrangement,
the Austro-Hungarian Government had always taken particular care to give
repeated public expression to the value which it attached to the
maintenance of these friendly relations. Then came also the annual
visits of King Edward to Emperor Francis Joseph. In short, Austrian
public opinion was sincerely surprised, not to say amazed, when Great
Britain, in her virtuous indignation, declared Baron Aehrenthal’s
railroad scheme to be the greatest infamy of the century. Italy joined
the chorus, or rather Great Britain persuaded her to join it. The
Italian press never tired of repeating that Italian trade in the Balkans
would be seriously damaged after the completion of the Austrian
railroad, and that Italy could not permit of Austria-Hungary marching on
Salonica. The bitterness created in Italy was one of the valuable
successes _d’à côté_ achieved by the British campaign.
King Edward and his Ministers continued energetically and perseveringly
their propaganda in the Balkans, whereby they defended especially the
“Programme of Macedonian Reform.” King Edward’s celebrated visit to
Reval, his meeting with Czar Nicholas, the toasts exchanged, and the
semi-official comments in the press (July 19th, 1908), brought the
Anglo-Russian negotiations to a conclusion, and constituted so to speak
the apogée of the English sovereign’s diplomatic triumph. The usual
diplomatic assurances to the effect that nothing had been discussed at
Reval which was in any way contrary to German interests, could not do
away with the impression that King Edward’s coalition against the German
Empire was now complete. The “Macedonian Question” was considered its
best instrument; for the carrying out of the programme of Macedonian
Reform would have implied a violation of the Turkish Empire absolutely
incompatible with the latter’s sovereignty and integrity. The German
Empire must, in this way, have been placed before the question as to
whether it would abandon Turkey to her fate or not; this question, as
the English intended, necessarily led up to the further one: shall we
give way or shall we go to war? Austria-Hungary was in the same manner
to be placed before a similar dilemma: should she, under such
circumstances, still remain by the side of Germany, or should she, in
exchange perhaps for compensations, go over to the other side? As we
see, quite a lot of prospects and possibilities were opened up to
British statesmen; and these possibilities, if cleverly made use of,
might lead to the weakening—or, who knows, the destruction—of Germany.
But now something unexpected happened: the Revolution in Turkey. The
“Macedonian Reform Scheme” of England, Russia, France, and Italy, had
terribly frightened the Turks. Up till now Russia and England had, owing
to the divergency of their aims, held each other in check; and it was to
this rivalry that Turkey owed the continuation of her existence. The
Reval meeting drove home the fact that the two ancient adversaries had
come to an understanding in Oriental questions; and this understanding
signified the doom of the Turkish Empire. The Young Turks took the
European Powers at their word; Abdul Hamid having as yet failed to take
“Macedonian Reform” seriously in hand, was deposed; the new rulers drew
up a constitution, and inscribed on their banner the maintenance of the
territorial integrity of the Empire, and also the equality of all
nations and religious bodies therein. In this way was the bottom taken
out of the Reval programme. Sir Edward Grey declared himself “satisfied
with the turn that matters had taken,” and it was decided to give the
Young Turks time. England expected the deposition of Abdul Hamid to
entail the collapse of the friendship between Germany and Turkey, and at
once changed her outward attitude towards the latter. The change, as
usual, was very skilfully explained as being a “matter of principle”:
liberty-loving England, it was said, could not possibly be a friend of
the tyrannical and reactionary government of Abdul Hamid; but all the
more sincere, therefore, was her joy on witnessing the birth of the new
liberal and progressive and humanitarian Ottoman Empire, to which she
extended a cordial and hearty welcome. In this way did the British
Government think to be able to lift Germany from out of the saddle in
Constantinople. It is, unfortunately, not possible to analyse here in
detail the policy of England in the Near East since the accession to the
throne of Edward VII. But that policy offers, on a small scale, truly
typical examples of the skill with which British statesmanship is able
to make use even of totally contradictory events in the pursuit of one
fundamental aim, which is never lost sight of for a minute. England’s
calculations after the Young Turk Revolution appeared at first to be
successful; and, for a time, she was in fact more popular in
Constantinople than Germany. This was only natural, since the Young
Turks were continually told that Germany was Abdul Hamid’s friend and
Young Turkey’s enemy—and that she had never really helped Turkey, but
had only acted from a purely egotistical standpoint. Only little by
little did German diplomacy succeed in again consolidating Germany’s
position; and some time elapsed before the Young Turk politicians
understood that Germany was the only Power whose Oriental policy was
compatible with the interests of the Turkish Empire.
In the autumn of 1908 Austria-Hungary saw herself obliged to formally
annex the two provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina, which she had
occupied for the past thirty years. It was a necessary step; for the
Panserb propaganda threatened to revolutionise Bosnia; and, on the other
hand, the Young Turk programme was a national one, and claimed Bosnia
and Herzegovina as ancient Turkish provinces inhabited by numerous
Mussulmans. Austria-Hungary had either to annex the territories in
question, or else to lose them.
This step came as a surprise to England—all the more so, as King Edward
had visited Emperor Francis Joseph at Ischl only six weeks before the
annexation, and had heard nothing about the proposed measure. The
astonishment and fury was so great in London, that even King Edward
forgot himself, and dropped his mask. The Austro-Hungarian Ambassador in
London, Count Mensdorf, was entrusted with the duty of communicating the
annexation to King Edward, together with an autograph letter from his
Sovereign. He was received in a most discourteous and unfriendly manner,
and himself declared: “I was chased away.” As we have already said, the
annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina did not change in any way the existing
state of affairs in the Balkans; it only, as it were, put the seal on a
document that had been drawn up thirty years previously. None the less
did the whole of Europe, at Great Britain’s instigation, wax indignant
at Austria-Hungary’s so-called “breach of faith.” In England, and also
in France and Russia, the view was expressed that the German Empire was
the real moving spirit in the whole business, and that Austria-Hungary
had only been led astray. There ensued the celebrated Bosnian crisis, of
which, at first sight, Servia appeared to be the center-point. Servia
complained loudly about the destruction of her hopes and aspirations,
claimed compensations and access to the Adriatic, placed her army on a
war footing, and declared _urbi et orbi_ that she would not surrender to
Austria. In reality, England was the center-point and the _agent
provocateur_ of the whole Bosnian crisis. The British Government cared
nothing for the aspirations of Servia, it cared not about Bosnia, nor
about Russia, nor about Italy; it had solely in view the humiliation of
Germany and Austria-Hungary, and the destruction of their alliance. It
entertained the hope of seeing Germany abandon her ally. Had this
happened, it would have been easy to draw Austria-Hungary over to the
Triple Entente after the crisis; in this way the whole of Germany’s
Oriental policy, together with the Bagdad railroad and other
concessions, would have come to an end. King Edward expected, therefore,
to deal a decisive blow by means of the “Bosnian crisis” which he had
organised. The bullet missed its mark, seeing that Germany remained
faithful to Austria-Hungary, and adopted the latter’s standpoint. Russia
and France, on the other hand, were not prepared, in view of the
resolute attitude of the Central Powers, to push matters to a head. A
skilful diplomatic manœuvre of Prince Bülow made it easier for the
Russian Government to accept the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina. The
crisis was thus brought to an end. Austria-Hungary gained in reality
nothing, for she had only preserved herself from otherwise certain
injury. Simultaneously with the proclamation of the annexation, the
Austro-Hungarian Government gave back the Sandjak of Novi-Bazar to
Turkey. But the latter did not, in reality, gain anything by this
either. Russia neither gained nor lost anything; and Servia’s wishes
were not realised. The only country which gained anything was England,
for owing to the re-cession of the Sandjak to Turkey, the Austrian
railroad plan of which we have already spoken was definitely knocked on
the head. The English had no longer to fear the competition of such an
international trading route.
England could, in general, be more satisfied with the European situation
resulting from the Bosnian crisis, than is generally supposed. Of
course, King Edward’s plan to destroy the Austro-German alliance, to
humiliate these two Powers, and to excite France and Russia against
them, had failed. Why? Because neither France nor Russia were ready,
seeing that both had been taken by surprise. Neither was England ready.
The London Cabinet had reckoned with a slower development of affairs in
the Balkans, and it had not foreseen either the Turkish Revolution or
the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina. Despite their unpreparedness, the
British statesmen had put all the wheels of their diplomatic machinery
into movement against the German Empire and her ally.
France and Russia had been compelled to admit that they were not ready.
This admission, coupled with their diplomatic defeat, was bound to wound
both Powers severely in their national pride and in their prestige. This
is what Great Britain secretly desired. The British calculation, that
henceforth France and Russia would proceed to apply themselves steadily
and systematically to the task of developing their military strength,
was correct. British policy had also succeeded in making Russia more
anxious than ever to rehabilitate herself in the eyes of the Balkan
people; it had succeeded in inspiring Servia with the desire of
vengeance, not only against Austria-Hungary, but also against Turkey;
and the work of exciting Italy against Austria had progressed
satisfactorily.