History of the new constitution--An advancedly democratic
institution--Important change in constitution on third
reading--The imperial constitution ceases to exist--Two "main
divisions"--Construction of the state--Preambles of old and new
constitutions compared--Fundamental and sweeping
changes--Radical curtailment of states' rights--The
President--The Reichstag, importance assigned to it--The
Reichsrat--Legislative procedure--Referendum and
initiative--Amendments--"Fundamental rights and fundamental
duties of the Germans"--Articles on social and economic
life--Socialist influence becomes unmistakable--Sweeping
socialization made possible--Workmen's council is "anchored" in
the constitution.
The Constitution of the German Commonwealth. 294
Translation by WILLIAM BENNETT MUNRO and ARTHUR NORMAN HOLCOMBE.
Reprinted by permission of the World Peace Foundation.
Foreword.
The developments leading up to the German Revolution of November, 1918,
and the events marking the course of the revolution itself are still but
imperfectly known or understood in America. For nearly two years
preceding the overthrow of the monarchy, Americans, like the people of
all other countries opposing Germany, were dependent for their direct
information upon the reports of neutral correspondents, and a stringent
censorship prevented these from reporting anything of value regarding
the conditions that were throughout this period gradually making the
German Empire ripe for its fall. To a great extent, indeed, not only
these foreign journalists, but the great mass of the Germans themselves,
had little knowledge of the manner in which the Empire was being
undermined.
During the crucial days of the revolution, up to the complete overthrow
of the central government at Berlin, a sharpened censorship prevented
any valuable direct news from being sent out, and the progress of events
was told to the outside world mainly by travelers, excited soldiers on
the Danish frontier and two or three-day-old German newspapers whose
editors were themselves not only handicapped by the censorship, but also
ignorant of much that had happened and unable to present a clear picture
of events as a whole. When the bars were finally thrown down to enemy
correspondents, the exigencies of daily newspaper work required them to
devote their undivided attention to the events that were then occurring.
Hence the developments preceding and attending the revolution could not
receive that careful consideration and portrayal which is necessary if
they are to be properly understood.
An attempt is made in this book to make clear the factors and events
that made the revolution possible, and to give a broad outline of its
second phase, from the middle of November, 1918, to the ratification by
Germany of the Peace of Versailles. A preliminary description of
Germany's governmental structure, although it may contain nothing new to
readers who know Germany well, could not be omitted. It is requisite for
a comprehension of the strength of the forces and events that finally
overthrew the Kaiser.
Much of the history told deals with matters of which the author has
personal knowledge. He had been for several years before the war
resident in Berlin as an Associated Press correspondent. He was in
Vienna when the Dual Monarchy declared war on Serbia, and in Berlin
during mobilization and the declarations of war on Russia and France. He
was with the German armies on all fronts during the first two years of
the war as correspondent, and was in Berlin two weeks before America
severed diplomatic relations with Germany. The author spent the summer
of 1917 in Russia, and watched the progress of affairs in Germany from
Stockholm and Copenhagen during the winter of 1917-18. He spent the
three months preceding the German Revolution in Copenhagen, in daily
touch with many proved sources of information, and was the first enemy
correspondent to enter Germany after the armistice, going to Berlin on
November 18, 1918. He attended the opening sessions of the National
Assembly at Weimar in February, 1919, and remained in Germany until the
end of March, witnessing both the first and second attempts of the
Spartacans to overthrow the Ebert-Haase government.
The author's aim in writing this book has been to give a truthful and
adequate picture of the matters treated, without any "tendency"
whatever. It is not pretended that the book exhausts the subject. Many
matters which might be of interest, but which would hinder the
straightforward narration of essentials, have been omitted, but it is
believed that nothing essential to a comprehension of the world's
greatest political event has been left out.
A word in conclusion regarding terminology.
_Proletariat_ does not mean, as is popularly supposed in America, merely
the lowest grade of manual laborers. It includes all persons whose work
is "exploited" by others, i. e., who depend for their existence upon
wages or salaries. Thus actors, journalists, clerks, stenographers,
etc., are reckoned as proletarians.
The _bourgeoisie_ includes all persons who live from the income of
investments or from businesses or properties (including real estate)
owned by them. In practice, however, owners of small one-man or
one-family businesses, although belonging to what the French term the
_petite bourgeoisie_, are regarded as proletarians. The nobility,
formerly a class by itself, is now _de facto_ included under the name
_bourgeoisie_, despite the contradiction of terms thus involved.
No effort has been made toward consistency in the spelling of German
names. Where the German form might not be generally understood, the
English form has been used. In the main, however, the German forms have
been retained.
Socialism and Social-Democracy, Socialist and Social-Democrat, have been
used interchangeably throughout. There is no difference of meaning
between the words.
S. MILES BOUTON
Asheville, New York,
November 1, 1919.
CHAPTER I.
The Governmental Structure of Germany.
The peoples of this generation--at least, those of highly civilized and
cultured communities--had little or no familiarity with revolutions and
the history of revolutions before March, 1917, when Tsar Nicholas II was
overthrown. There was and still is something about the very word
"revolution" which is repugnant to all who love ordered and orderly
government. It conjures up pictures of rude violence, of murder, pillage
and wanton destruction. It violates the sentiments of those that respect
the law, for it is by its very nature a negation of the force of
existing laws. It breaks with traditions and is an overcoming of
inertia; and inertia rules powerfully the majority of all peoples.
The average American is comparatively little versed in the history of
other countries. He knows that the United States of America came into
existence by a revolution, but "revolutionary" is for him in this
connection merely an adjective of time used to locate and describe a war
fought between two powers toward the end of the eighteenth century. He
does not realize, or realizes but dimly, the essential kinship of all
revolutions. Nor does he realize that most of the governments existing
today came into being as the result of revolutions, some of them
bloodless, it is true, but all at bottom a revolt against existing laws
and governmental forms. The extortion of the Magna Charta from King John
in 1215 was not the less a revolution because it was the bloodless work
of the English barons. It took two bloody revolutions to establish
France as a republic. All the Balkan states are the products of
revolution. A man need not be old to remember the overthrow of the
monarchy in Brazil; the revolution in Portugal was but yesterday as
historians count time. Only the great wisdom and humanitarianism of the
aged King Oscar II prevented fighting and bloodshed between Sweden and
Norway when Norway announced her intention of breaking away from the
dual kingdom. The list could be extended indefinitely.
The failure to recall or realize these things was one of the factors
responsible for the universal surprise and amazement when the
Hohenzollerns were overthrown. The other factor was the general--and
justified--impression that the government of Germany was one of the
strongest, most ably administered and most homogeneous governments of
the world. And yet Germany, too, or what subsequently became the nucleus
of Germany, had known revolution. It was but seventy years since the
King of Prussia had been forced to stand bareheaded in the presence of
the bodies of the "March patriots," who had given their lives in a
revolt which resulted in a new constitution and far-reaching concessions
to the people.
Even to those who did recall and realize these things, however, the
German revolution came as a shock. The closest observers, men who knew
Germany intimately, doubted to the very last the possibility of
successful revolution there. And yet, viewed in the light of subsequent
happenings, it will be seen how natural, even unavoidable, the
revolution was. It came as the inevitable result of conditions created
by the war and the blockade. It will be the purpose of this book to make
clear the inevitableness of the _debacle_, and to explain the events
that followed it.
For a better understanding of the whole subject a brief explanation of
the structure of Germany's governmental system is in place. This will
serve the double purpose of showing the strength of the system which the
revolution was able to overturn and of dispelling a too general
ignorance regarding it.
The general condemnation of Prussia, the Prussians and the Hohenzollerns
must not be permitted to obscure their merits and deserts. For more than
five hundred years without a break in the male line this dynasty handed
down its inherited rights and produced an array of great administrators
who, within three centuries, raised Prussia to the rank of a first-rate
power.
The kingdom that subsequently became the nucleus for the German Empire
lost fully half its territory by the Peace of Tilsit in 1807, when,
following the reverses in the Napoleonic wars, Germany was formally
dissolved and the Confederation of the Rhine was formed by Napoleon. The
standing army was limited to 42,000 men, and trade with Great Britain
was prohibited. The Confederation obeyed the letter of the military
terms, but evaded its spirit by successively training levies of 42,000
men, and within six years enough trained troops were available to make a
revolt against Napoleonic slavery possible. The French were routed and
cut to pieces at the Battle of the Nations near Leipsic in 1813, and
Prussian Germany was again launched on the road to greatness.
A certain democratic awakening came on the heels of the people's
liberation from foreign domination. It manifested itself particularly in
the universities. The movement became so threatening that a conference
of ministers of the various states was convoked in 1819 to consider
counter-measures. The result was an order disbanding the political
unions of the universities, placing the universities under police
supervision and imposing a censorship upon their activities.
The movement was checked, but not stopped. In 1847 ominous signs of a
popular revolution moved King Frederick William IV of Prussia to summon
the Diet to consider governmental reforms. The chief demand presented by
this Diet was for a popular representation in the government. The King
refused to grant this. A striking commentary upon the political
backwardness of Germany is furnished by the fact that one of the demands
made by a popular convention held in Mannheim in the following year was
for trial by jury, a right granted in England more than six hundred
years earlier by the Magna Charta. Other demands were for the freedom of
the press and popular representation in the government.
The revolution of 1848 in Prussia, while it failed to produce all that
had been hoped for by those responsible for it, nevertheless resulted in
what were for those times far-reaching reforms. A diet was convoked at
Frankfort-on-the-Main. It adopted a constitution establishing some
decided democratic reforms and knit the fabric of the German
confederation more closely together.
The structure of the Confederation was already very substantial, despite
much state particularism and internal friction. An important event in
the direction of a united Germany had been the establishment in 1833 of
the _Zollverein_ or Customs Union. The existence of scores of small
states,[1] each with its own tariffs, currency and posts, had long
hindered economic development. There is a well-known anecdote regarding
a traveler who, believing himself near the end of his day's journey,
after having passed a dozen customs-frontiers, found his way barred by
the customs-officials of another tiny principality. Angered at the
unexpected delay, he refused to submit to another examination of his
effects and another exaction of customs-duties.
[1] There were more than three hundred territorial sovereignties
in Germany when the new constitution of the union was adopted
at the Congress of Vienna in 1815.--There were principalities
of less than one square mile in extent. The particularism
engendered by this state of affairs has always been one of
the greatest handicaps with which federal government in
Germany has had to contend.
"You aren't a country," he said. "You're just a spot. I'll go around
you." And this he did, without being seriously delayed in reaching his
destination.
The growing power of Germany aroused the fear of the French, who
realized what the union of the vital, energetic and industrious German
races would mean. Years of tension culminated in the war of 1870-71. The
result is known. Unprepared for the conflict, the French were crushed,
just as Austria had been crushed four years earlier.
The last external obstacle in the way of German unity and strength had
thus strangely been removed. On January 18, 1871, while the victorious
German armies still stood at the gates of Paris, King William I was
proclaimed German Emperor as Kaiser Wilhelm I.
The designation as "German Emperor" should be noted, because it is
significant of the manner of union of the German Empire. The aged
monarch was insistent that the title should be "Emperor of Germany." To
this the sovereigns of the other German states objected, as carrying the
implication of their own subjection. Between "German Emperor" or
"Emperor in Germany" and "Emperor of Germany," they pointed out, there
was a wide difference. "German Emperor" implied merely that the holder
of that title was _primus inter pares_, merely the first among equals,
the presiding officer of an aggregation of sovereigns of equal rank who
had conferred this dignity upon him, just as a diet, by electing one of
its number chairman, confers upon him no superiority of rank, but merely
designates him to conduct their deliberations. These sovereigns'
jealousy of their own prerogatives had at first led them to consider
vesting the imperial honors alternately with the Prussian and Bavarian
King, but this idea was abandoned as impracticable. At the urgent
representations of Bismarck the aged King consented, with tears in his
eyes, it is said, to accept the designation of German Emperor.
The German Empire as thus formed consisted of twenty-five states and the
_Reichsland_ of Alsace-Lorraine, which was administered by a viceroy
appointed by the King of Prussia. The empire was a federated union of
states much on the pattern of the United States of America, but the
federative character was not completely carried out because of the
particularism of certain states. The Bavarians, whose customs of life,
easy-going ways, and even dialects are more akin to those of the German
Austrians than of the Prussians,[2] exacted far-reaching concessions as
the price of their entrance into the empire. They retained their own
domestic tariff-imposts, their own army establishment, currency,
railways, posts, telegraphs and other things. Certain other states also
reserved a number of rights which ought, for the formation of a perfect
federative union, to have been conferred upon the central authority. On
the whole, however, these reservations proved less of a handicap than
might have been expected.
[2] The Bavarians have from early days disliked the Prussians
heartily. _Saupreuss'_ (sow-Prussian) and other even less
elegant epithets were in common use against the natives of
the dominant state. It must in fairness be admitted that this
dislike was the natural feeling of the less efficient
Bavarian against the efficient and energetic Prussian.
The Imperial German Constitution adopted at this time was in many ways a
remarkable document. It cleverly combined democratic and absolutist
features. The democratic features were worked out with a wonderful
psychological instinct. In the hands of almost any people except the
Germans or Slavs the democratic side of this instrument would have
eventually become the predominant one. That it did not is a tribute to
the astuteness of Bismarck and of the men who, under his influence,
drafted the constitution.
The German Parliament or _Reichsrat_ was composed of two houses, the
_Bundesrat_, or Federal Council, and the _Reichstag_, or Imperial Diet.
The Federal Council was designed as the anchor of absolutism. It was
composed of fifty-eight members, of whom seventeen came from Prussia,
six from Bavaria, and four each from Saxony and Wuerttemberg. The larger
of the other states had two or three each, and seventeen states had but
one each. In 1911 three members were granted to Alsace-Lorraine by a
constitution given at that time to the _Reichsland_. The members of the
Federal Council were the direct representatives of their respective
sovereigns, by whom they were designated, and not of the people of the
respective states. Naturally they took their instructions from their
sovereigns. Nearly all legislative measures except bills for raising
revenue had to originate in the Federal Council, and its concurrence
with the Reichstag was requisite for the enactment of laws. A further
absolutist feature of the constitution was the provision that fourteen
votes could block an amendment to the constitution. In other words,
Prussia with her seventeen members could prevent any change not desired
by her governing class.
The Reichstag, the second chamber of the parliament, was a truly
democratic institution. Let us say rather that it could have become a
democratic institution. Why it did not do so will be discussed later. It
consisted of 397 members, who were elected by the most unlimited
suffrage prevailing at that time in all Europe. It is but recently,
indeed within the last five years, that as universal and free a suffrage
has been adopted by other European countries, and there are still many
which impose limitations unknown to the German Constitution. Every male
subject who had attained the age of twenty-five years and who had not
lost his civil rights through the commission of crime, or who was not a
delinquent taxpayer or in receipt of aid from the state or his community
as a pauper, was entitled to vote. The vote was secret and direct, and
the members of the Reichstag were responsible only to their constituents
and not subject to instructions from any governmental body or person.
They were elected for a term of three years,[3] but their mandates could
be terminated at any time by the Kaiser, to whom was reserved the right
to dissolve the Reichstag. If he dissolved it, however, he was compelled
to order another election within a definitely stated period.
[3] This was later altered to five years.
One very real power was vested in the Reichstag. It had full control of
the empire's purse strings. Bills for raising revenue and all measures
making appropriations had to originate in this chamber, and its assent
was required to their enactment. The reason for its failure to exercise
this control resolutely must be sought in the history of the German
people, in their inertia where active participation in governmental
matters is concerned, and in those psychological characteristics which
Bismarck so well comprehended and upon which he so confidently counted.
No people on earth had had a more terrible or continuous struggle for
existence than the various tribes that later amalgamated to form the
nucleus for the German Empire. Their history is a record of almost
continuous warfare, going back to the days of Julius Caesar. In the first
years of the Christian era the Germans under Arminius (Hermann) crushed
the Romans of Varus's legions in the Teutoburg Forest, and the land was
racked by war up to most modern times. Most of its able-bodied men were
exterminated during the Thirty Years War (1618-1648).[4] This almost
constant preoccupation in war had a twofold result: it intensified the
struggle for existence of the common man and kept him from devoting
either his thoughts or energies to problems of government, and it
strengthened the powers of a comparatively small ruling-class, who alone
possessed any culture and education and whose efforts were naturally
directed to keeping their serfs in the subjection of ignorance. These
conditions prevailed until well into the last century.
[4] The population of Germany dropped from twenty to less than
seven millions during this war.
The conditions can best be appreciated by a comparison with the
conditions existing in England at the same time. England, too, had had
her wars, but her soil was but rarely ravaged by foreign invaders, and
never to the extent in which Germany repeatedly suffered. Parliamentary
government of a sort had existed more than three centuries in England
before it reached Germany. A milder climate than that of North Germany
made the struggle for the bare necessaries of life less strenuous, and
gave opportunity to a greater proportion of the people to consider other
things than the mere securing of enough to eat and drink. They began to
think politically centuries before political affairs ceased to rest
entirely in the hands of the nobility of Germany.
The Germans of the lower and middle classes--in other words, the vast
majority of the whole people--were thus both without political training
and without even the inclination to think independently along political
lines. Some advance had, it is true, been made along these lines since
the Napoleonic wars, but the events of 1871 nevertheless found the great
mass of the people without political tutelage or experience. People even
more politically inclined would have found themselves handicapped by
this lack of training, and the German--particularly the Southern
German--is not politically inclined. This will be discussed more fully
in the chapters dealing with the course of events following the
revolution of 1918. It will be sufficient to point out here the German's
inclination to abstract reasoning, to philosophizing and to a certain
mysticism; his love of music and fine arts generally, his undeniable
devotion to the grosser creature-comforts, eating and drinking, and his
tendency not to worry greatly about governmental or other impersonal
affairs provided he be kept well fed and amused. It is, in brief, the
spirit to which the Roman emperors catered with the _panem et
circenses_, and which manifests itself strikingly in the German
character. The result of all this was a marked inertia which
characterized German political life up to recent years. Even when a
limited political awakening came it was chiefly the work of German-Jews,
not of Germans of the old stock.
These, then, were the conditions that prevented the democratic features
of the Imperial Constitution from acquiring that prominence and
importance which they would have acquired among a different people. The
Kaiser could dissolve the Reichstag at will. Why, then, bother oneself
about opposing the things desired by the Kaiser and his brother princes?
It merely meant going to the trouble of a new election, and if that
Reichstag should prove recalcitrant also, it could in its turn be
dissolved. Apparently it never occurred to the mass of the Germans that
the Kaiser could not go on indefinitely dissolving a representative body
which insisted upon carrying out the people's will. The Reichstag, being
on the whole neither much wiser nor more determined than the people that
elected it, accepted this view of the situation. Occasionally it showed
a bit of spirit, notably when it adopted a vote of censure against the
government in the matter of the Zabern affair in 1913. On the whole,
however, it accepted meekly the role that caused it to be termed, and
justly, a "debating club." And this was precisely the role that had been
planned for it by the drafters of the constitution.
In justice to the Reichstag, however, one thing should be pointed out.
When the German Empire was formed the country was still predominantly an
agricultural land. The election districts were on the whole justly
erected, and no one section of the country had a markedly
disproportionate number of representatives. It was not long, however,
before the flight to the cities began in Germany as in other countries,
and at the beginning of the present century the greater part of
Germany's population lived in the cities. The result was speedily seen
in the constitution of the Reichstag, since no redistricting was ever
made since the original districting of 1871. Greater Berlin, with a
population around four million, elected but six representatives to the
Reichstag. In other words, there were some 660,000 inhabitants for every
delegate. The agricultural districts, however, and especially those of
Northern Germany--East Elbia, as it is termed--continued to elect the
same number of representatives as at the beginning to represent a
population which had increased but little or not at all. There were
districts in East and West Prussia, Brandenburg, Mecklenburg, Pomerania
and Posen where fewer than ten thousand voters were able to send a
representative to the Reichstag.
The result was the natural one. Throughout the world conservatism has
its headquarters on the farms. The farmers cling longest to the old
order of things, they free themselves the most slowly from tradition,
they are least susceptible to sociological and socialistic ideas and, in
so far as they own their own land, they are among the strongest
supporters of vested property-rights. In no other country was this more
the case than in Germany, and especially in the districts mentioned,
where large estates predominate and whence have come for two hundred
years the most energetic, faithful and blindly loyal servants of their
sovereign. The cities, on the other hand, and particularly the larger
cities are the strongholds of new ideas. They are in particular the
breeding-places of Socialism and Communism. Five of the six Reichstag
members elected from Greater Berlin in 1912 were Social-Democrats, and
the sixth was a Progressive with advanced democratic ideas.
With the shifting population and the consequent distortion of the
election districts, a tremendous advantage accrued to the rural
communities; in other words, the forces opposed to democratic reforms
and in favor of maintaining and even increasing the powers of the King
and Emperor steadily increased proportionately their representation in
the Reichstag at the expense of the friends of democracy. At the
Reichstag election of 1912 the Socialists cast roundly thirty-five per
cent of the total popular vote. Handicapped by the unjust districting,
however, they were able to elect only 110 delegates, whereas their
proportion of the total vote entitled them to 139. The Progressives,
most of whose strength also lay in the cities, likewise received fewer
members than their total vote entitled them to have. Under a fair
districting these two parties would together have had nearly a clear
majority of the Reichstag. There is reason to believe that the whole
course of history of the last years would have been altered had Germany
honestly reformed her Reichstag election districts ten years ago. On
such small things does the fate of nations often rest.
The Kaiser, as the president of the empire, was authorized to "represent
the empire internationally." He named the diplomatic representatives to
foreign courts and countries and to the Vatican. He was empowered to
make treaties, and to declare defensive warfare provided the enemy had
actually invaded German territory. He could not declare an offensive war
without the consent of the Federal Council, nor a defensive war unless
the invasion mentioned had taken place. He was commander-in-chief of the
navy, and of the Prussian army and the armies of the other federal
states except of Saxony and Bavaria, which maintained their own military
establishments. He appointed--in theory--all federal officials and
officers of the army and navy. On the whole, however, his powers as
German Emperor were strictly limited and hardly went beyond the powers
of the ruler of any constitutional monarchy.
It was as King of Prussia, however, that he really exercised the
greatest power, and thus vicariously strengthened his powers in the
empire at large. The parliamentary system of Prussia was archaic and
designed to make impossible any really democratic government or a too
severe limitation upon the powers of the King. It was, like the Imperial
Parliament, made up of two chambers, a House of Lords and a Diet. The
upper chamber, the House of Lords, was composed of men appointed by the
King, either for a fixed term or for life. It goes without saying that
all these men were strong supporters of the monarchic system and
outspoken enemies of democracy. No legislation could be enacted against
their will. The composition of the Diet, moreover, was such that the
House of Lords had until very recent years little to fear in the way of
democratic legislation. It was elected by the so-called three-class
system, under which a wealthy man frequently had greater voting power
than his five hundred employees together. The ballot moreover was
indirect, the delegates being elected by a complicated system of
electors. In addition to all this, the ballot was open, not secret. This
placed a powerful weapon in the hands of the employing classes generally
and of the great estate-owners particularly. The polling-places in rural
districts were generally located on land belonging to one of these
estates, and the election officials were either the estate-owners
themselves or men dependent on them. In these circumstances it took a
brave man to vote otherwise than his employer desired, and there was no
way of concealing for whom or what party he had voted. Bismarck himself,
reactionary and conservative as he was, once termed the Prussian
three-class voting-system "the most iniquitous of all franchise
systems."
Around this a fight had waged for several years before the revolution.
The Kaiser, as King of Prussia, flatly promised, in his address from the
throne in 1908, that the system should be reformed. It is a matter of
simple justice to record that he made the promise in good faith and
tried to see that it was kept. His efforts along this line were thwarted
by a small clique of men who were determined "to protect the King
against himself," and who, lacking even the modicum of political
prescience possessed by the Kaiser-King, failed to see that if they did
not make a concession willingly they would eventually be forced to make
a concession of much greater extent. From year to year measures to
reform the three-class system were introduced, only to be killed by the
House of Lords. Under the stress of the closing days of the war such a
measure was perfected and would have become a law had not the revolution
intervened. But it came too late, just as did scores of other reforms
undertaken in the eleventh hour.
And thus, while the Kaiser's power as German Emperor was sharply
limited, he enjoyed powers as King of Prussia which in some degree
approached absolutism. The dominance of Prussia in the empire, while it
could not transfer these powers to the Emperor _de jure_, did
unquestionably effect to some degree a _de facto_ transfer, which, while
it did not in the long run have a very actual or injurious internal
effect, nevertheless played a no inconsiderable part in the outside
world and was responsible for a general feeling that Germany was in
effect an absolute monarchy. German apologists have maintained that
Wilhelm II had less actual power as German Emperor than that possessed
by the President of the United States. This statement is undoubtedly
true, but with an important limitation and qualification. The
President's great powers are transitory and cannot--or in practice do
not--extend more than eight years at the most. His exercise of those
powers is governed and restrained during the first four years by his
desire to be re-elected; during the second four years he must also use
his powers in such a way that a democratic people will not revenge
itself at the next election upon the President's party. But the Kaiser
and King was subject to no such limitation. He ruled for life, and a
dissatisfied people could not take the succession away from the
Hohenzollerns except by revolution. And nobody expected or talked of
revolution. The only real control over abuses of power rested with a
Reichstag which, as has already been explained, was too faithful a
reflex of a non-political and inert constituency to make this control of
more than mild academic interest.
CHAPTER II.
The German Conception of the State.
We have seen how the whole manner of life and the traditions of the
Germans were obstacles to their political development. Mention has also
been made of their peculiar tendency toward abstract philosophic habits
of thought, which are not only inexplicable by the manner of the
people's long-continued struggle for existence, but seem indeed to
prevail in defiance of it.
In addition to this powerful factor there existed another set of factors
which worked with wonderful effectiveness toward the same end--the
crippling of independent and practical political thinking. This was the
conception of the state held by the ruling-classes of Germany and their
manner of imposing this conception upon the people. It may briefly be
put thus: the people existed for the sake of the state, not the state
for the sake of the people. The state was the central and great idea;
whatever weakened its authority or power was of evil. It could grant
free play to individualism only in those things that could not affect
the state directly, such as music and the fine arts, and to abstract
philosophy and literature--particularly the drama--as long as they
avoided dangerous political topics. Its keynote was authority and the
subjection of the individual to the welfare of the state.
The tendency of this system to make for efficiency so far as the actual
brute power of a state is concerned cannot be denied in the light of the
events of the World War. We have seen how in America itself, the
stronghold of political and religious liberty, individualism was sternly
repressed and even slight offenses against the authority of the state
were punished by prison sentences of a barbarous severity unknown in any
civilized country of Europe. We have seen the churches, reinterpreting
the principles of the New Testament, and the schools, rewriting history
to supposed good ends, both enlisted in this repression of individualism
for the sake of increasing the efficiency of the state at a time when
the highest efficiency was required.
But the distinction between such conditions here and the pre-war
conditions in Germany is that they obtained, although in milder form, in
Germany in peace times as well. And the Anglo-Saxon conception of the
state is as of a thing existing for the sake of the people and with no
possible interests that cannot be served by the democratic and
individualistic development of its people. Between this conception and
the conception held by Germany's rulers there is a wide and
irreconcilable difference.
Apart, however, from any consideration of the merits of the German
system, it must be admitted that the world has never seen another such
intelligent application of principles of statecraft to the end sought to
be attained. That the system eventually collapsed was not due to its
internal faults, but to abnormal and unforeseeable events. The extent of
its collapse, however, was directly due to the structure of the system
itself.
It has already been pointed out that authority was the keynote of the
German system. This authority, embodied in school and church, began to
mold the plastic mind of the German child as early as the age of six.
"The Emperor is the father of his country and loves his children like a
father; we owe him the obedience due to a father," taught the school.
"Submit yourselves unto authority," said the church, using Paul's words
to serve the ends of the state. The child came from school and church to
his military service and found authority enthroned there. He had to obey
the orders of every _Vorgesetzter_ (superior in authority) from field
marshal down to corporal. He found that, in the absence of officers or
non-commissioned officers, he must submit himself to the authority of
the _Stubenaeltester_, the senior soldier in the same room with him.
Insubordination was punished rigorously.
Precept, example and punishment were but a part of a system calculated
to make discipline and submission to authority advisable and profitable.
The penalties prescribed by the German penal and military codes for
infractions of the laws were far less severe than the penalties
prescribed in the code of any American state, but conviction was
followed by a consequence of great moment in Germany: the man who was
_vorbestraft_, that is, who had been punished for any transgression,
found himself automatically excluded from any opportunity to become a
_Beamter_, or government official.
The system of punishment had always as its chief purpose the laying of
emphasis upon duty, and this was often arrived at in an indirect way.
For example, the soldier who failed to keep his valuables in the locker
provided for him in his barracks and who lost them by theft, was
punished for his own negligence.
No other country in the world employed so large a proportion of its
total population in the administration of government, and in no other
country was the system so cleverly calculated to make government office
attractive to the average man. The salaries were not larger than those
earned by men of the same class in non-official employments, but
employment under the government offered in addition both material and
moral advantages. The chief material advantage was the right to retire
after a specified number of years of service on liberal pension. The
moral advantages rested in the dignity of government service and in the
special protection afforded government servants. A carefully graded
scale of titles made its appeal to personal vanity. This has frequently
been described as particularly German, but it was, in the last analysis,
merely human. There are comparatively few men in any country, not
excluding America, who are totally indifferent to titles, and there is
at least one state whose fondness for them has become a stock subject
for all American humorists. What was, however, particularly German was
the astuteness with which the ruling-classes of Germany had turned this
human weakness to account as an asset of government, and also the extent
to which it had been developed, especially downward. Mr. Smith, who
cleans the streets of an American city, would not be especially
gratified to be addressed as Mr. Street-Cleaner, but his German
colleague felt a glow of pride at hearing the address "Herr
Street-Cleaner Schmidt," and this feeling was a very real asset to his
government. It was the same at the other end of the scale. The
government councillor was the more faithful and energetic in his
devotion to the government's work because he knew that by faithfulness
and energy he would eventually become a "privy government councillor"
and the next step would be to "real privy government councillor, with
the predicate 'Your Excellency'." And since wives bore the titles of
their husbands, the appeal was doubly strong.
The _Beamter_ enjoyed furthermore special protection under the law.
To call an ordinary person "idiot," for example, was a _Beleidigung_
or insult, but the same term applied to a _Beamter_ became
_Beamtenbeleidigung_, or "insult to an official," and involved a
much sharper punishment, and this punishment increased with the
dignity of the person insulted until the person of the Kaiser was
reached, an insult to whom was _Majestaetsbeleidigung_, an insult to
majesty, or _lese majeste_, as the French term it. Prosecutions for
_Majestaetsbeleidigung_ were not frequent, but the law was
occasionally invoked. One of the last prosecutions for this offense
occurred in 1913, when a man who had demonstratively turned a
picture of the Kaiser toward the wall in the presence of a large
gathering was sent to jail for four months.
Personal vanity was further exploited by a system of orders, decorations
and civil-service medals. This system originated from an ancient custom
which, with increasing travel, had become onerous. Royalty was
everywhere expected to tip servants only with gold, and since the
smallest gold coin was the equivalent of the American $2.50-piece, this
constituted a severe financial tax on the poorer ruler of small
principalities, who traveled much. One of these petty rulers conceived
the bright idea of creating a system of bronze orders or medallions and
substituting these inexpensive decorations for tips. The event justified
his expectations; they were esteemed more highly than cash tips by
people whose vanity was flattered at receiving a "decoration" from
royalty. Eventually all states and the Empire adopted them. On fete days
railway station-masters could be recognized on the streets by their
numerous decorations. The railway-engineer, the mail-carrier, the
janitor in a government office--all these men knew that so many years of
loyal service meant recognition in the form of some sort of decoration
for the coat-lapel, and these, in the stratum of society in which they
moved, were just as highly regarded as was the Red Eagle or Hohenzollern
House Order in higher classes of society. There is no room whatever for
doubt that these things, whose actual cost was negligible, played a
large part in securing faithful and devoted service to the government
and compensated largely--and especially in the case of higher
officials--for somewhat niggardly salaries. A prominent English
statesman, visiting Berlin some years before the war, expressed to the
writer his regret that England had not built up a similar system, which,
in his opinion, was a powerful factor in securing a cheap and good
administration of public affairs. Like the system of titles, it took
advantage of a weakness not merely German, but human. Instances of the
refusal of foreign orders and decorations by Americans are rare.
All these things, then, were factors of almost inestimable value in
building up a strong governmental machine. At bottom, however, the
whole structure rested upon another factor which should receive
ungrudging admiration and recognition, regardless of one's attitude
toward Germany or its governing classes. This was the strong sense of
duty inculcated in every German, man or woman, from lowest to highest.
Self-denial, a Spartan simplicity, faithfulness in the discharge of
one's obligations--these were the characteristics that set their seal
upon the average German. In some of the larger cities, and notably in
Berlin, the Spartan ideals of life had been somewhat abandoned in the
years preceding the war, but elsewhere they persisted, and nowhere to a
greater extent than among the ruling-classes of Prussia, the so-called
_Junker_. Former Ambassador Gerard has paid a deserved tribute to this
class,[5] and the universal condemnation visited upon them by democratic
peoples cannot justify a refusal to give them their due.
[5] "There is no leisure class among the Junkers. They are all
workers, patriotic, honest and devoted to the Emperor and the
Fatherland. If it is possible that government by one class is
to be suffered, then the Prussian Junkers have proved
themselves more fit for rule than any class in history. Their
virtues are Spartan, their minds narrow but incorruptible,
and their bravery and patriotism undoubted. One can but
admire them and their stern, virtues." James W. Gerard, _My
Four Years in Germany_, p. 123.
This uncompromising devotion to duty had its roots in old Prussian
history. Frederick William I, father of Frederick the Great, threatened
his son with death if he were found derelict in what the stern old man
regarded as the duty of a future ruler.
The whole rule of Frederick the Great was marked by a rigid sense of
duty. He termed himself "the first servant of the state," and no servant
worked harder or allowed himself less leisure or fewer bodily comforts.
It was this monarch who, told of a brave act of sacrifice by one of his
officers, refused to consider it as anything calling for special
recognition. _Er hat nur seine verdammte Pflicht und Schuldigkeit getan_
(he did only his accursed duty), said the King. This saying became the
formula that characterized the attitude of the Prussian-German _Beamten_
in their relations to the state. Whatever was (or was represented as)
their "accursed duty" must be done, regardless of personal
considerations or rewards.
In the catalogue of virtues enumerated we have one important group of
prerequisites to efficient government. There remain two things:
intelligence and education. The first can be dismissed briefly. The
average of intelligence in all civilized countries is probably much the
same. There would not be much difference in native capacity and ability
between the best thousand of a million Germans or of a million men of
any other race. In respect of education and training, however, German
officials as a whole were at least the equal of any body of government
servants anywhere in the world and the superior of most. In the first
place, educational qualifications were definitely laid down for every
category of officials. Nor were these qualifications determined, as in
the American civil-service, by an examination. The candidate must have
attended school and taken the prescribed course for a term of years,
varying with the importance of the government career to which he
aspired.
This insured the possession of adequate educational qualifications of
civil servants, and there was another thing of first importance in the
building up of a strong and efficient civil-service. The "spoils system"
in connection with public office was absolutely unknown in Germany. The
idea that appointments to the government's service should depend upon
the political faith of the appointee was one that never occurred to any
German. If it had occurred to him it would have been immediately
dismissed as inconsistent with the best administration of the
government's affairs, as, indeed, it is. The only partisan
qualification, or rather limitation, upon eligibility to public office
was that members of the Social-Democratic party were ineligible, and
that government employees might not become members of that party. From
the standpoint of the ruling-classes this was natural. It was more; it
was requisite. For the German Socialists were the avowed and
uncompromising enemies of the existing government; they were advocates
of a republic; they were the outspoken enemies of all authority except
the authority of their own class, for which they assumed to be the only
legitimate spokesmen, and they were, like Socialists the world over,
internationalists first and patriots second. No government could be
expected to help its bitterest opponents to power by giving places of
honor and profit to their representatives.
The tenure of government officials, except, of course, that of
ministers, was for life. Promotion was by merit, not by influence. The
result was an efficiency which is generally admitted. The municipal
administration of German cities in particular became the model for the
world. The system withstood the practical test; it worked. The Chief
Burgomaster of Greater Berlin is a man whose whole life-training has
been devoted to the administration of cities. Beginning in a subordinate
position in a small city, he became eventually its burgomaster (mayor),
then mayor of a larger city, and so on until he was called to take
charge of the administration of the empire's largest city. His career is
typical of the German pre-revolutionary methods of choosing public
servants, and the same principle was applied in every department of the
government's service.
From the purposely brief sketch of German officialdom's characteristics
and efficiency which has been presented it will be apparent that such a
system was a powerful weapon in the hands of any ruling-class. Its
efficiency might reasonably be expected to crush any revolution in the
bud, and the loyalty of the men composing it might equally be expected
to maintain to the last their allegiance to the classes that represented
authority, with its supreme fount in the person of the ruler himself.
That these expectations were not fulfilled would seem to testify to the
inherent and irresistible strength of the revolution that upset it. We
shall see later, however, that it was a different class of men with whom
the revolution had to cope. Against the spirit of German officialdom of
ante-bellum days revolution would have raised its head in vain.
The authority of the German state had another and even more powerful
weapon than the _Beamtentum_. This was the military establishment and
the officer-corps. Upon this in the first instance the throne of the
Hohenzollerns was supported.
Enlightened democracy discovered centuries ago that a large standing
army may easily become the tool of absolutism and the enemy of free
institutions. This discovery found expression in England in the
consistent refusal of Parliament to create an army in permanence. The
laws establishing the English army had to be renewed periodically, so
that it was possible at any time for the representatives of the people
to draw the teeth of the military force if an attempt should be made to
use that force for tyrannical ends. But the Germans, as has already been
explained, lacked democratic training and perceptions. Germany was
moreover in a uniquely dangerous position. No other great power had such
an unfavorable geographical situation. On the west was France, and there
were thousands of Germans who had been told by their fathers the story
of the Napoleonic slavery. On the east was Russia, stronghold of
absolutism, with inexhaustible natural resources and a population more
than twice Germany's. Great Britain commanded the seas, and Germany had
to import or starve.
It cannot fairly be doubted that, placed in a similar situation, the
most pacific nation would have armed itself to the teeth. But--and this
is all-important--it is difficult to imagine that such other nation
would have become militaristic.
The stock answer of German apologists to the accusations regarding
"militarism" as exemplified in Prussia-Germany has been the assertion
that France spent more money _per capita_ on her military establishment
than did Germany. This statement is true, but those making it overlooked
the real nature of the charge against them. They did not realize that
militarism, as the world saw it in their country, was not concrete, but
abstract; it was, in brief, a state of mind. It could have existed
equally well if the army had been but a quarter as large, and it did not
exist in France, which, in proportion to her population, had a larger
army than Germany. It exalted the profession of arms above all else; it
divided the people into two classes, military and civilians. Its spirit
was illustrated strikingly by the fact that when Wilhelm II ascended the
throne, his first act was to issue a proclamation to the army, but it
was not until three days later that his proclamation to the people was
issued. Militarism gave the youngest lieutenant at court precedence over
venerable high civilian officials.
The spirit of militarism permeated even to the remotest corners of daily
activity in all walks of life. The gatekeeper at a railway crossing must
stand at attention, with his red flag held in a prescribed manner, while
the train is passing. A Berlin mail-carrier was punished for saluting a
superior with his left hand, instead of with the right. A street-car
conductor was fined for driving his car between two wagons of a military
transport. This was in peace times, and the transport was conveying hay.
That the passengers in the car would otherwise have had to lose much
time was of no consequence; nothing could be permitted to interfere with
anything hallowed by connection with the military establishment. When
Herr von Bethmann Hollweg was appointed Imperial Chancellor it was
necessary to give him military rank, since he had never held it. He was
created a general, for it could not be suffered that a mere civilian
should occupy the highest post in the empire next to the Kaiser. The
Kaiser rarely showed himself in public in civilian attire.
It was but natural that the members of the officer-corps held an exalted
opinion of their own worth and dignity. Militarism is everywhere tarred
with the same stick, and army officers, if freed from effective civil
control, exhibit in all lands the same tendency to arbitrariness and to
a scorn and contempt for mere civilians. Such release from control is
seen in other lands, however, only in time of war, whereas it was a
permanently existing state of affairs in Germany. It worked more
powerfully there than would have been the case anywhere else, for all
the country's traditions and history were of a nature to exalt military
service. Ravaged by war for centuries, Germany's greatness had been
built up by the genius of her army leaders and the bravery and loyalty
of her soldiers. Hundreds of folksongs and poems known to every German
child glorified war and its heroes. The youthful Theodor Koerner, writing
his _Gebet vor der Schlacht_ (Prayer before the Battle) by the light of
the bivouac-fires a few hours before the battle in which he was killed,
makes a picture that must appeal even to persons who abhor war. How much
greater, then, must its appeal have been to a military folk!
The German officer was encouraged to consider himself of better clay
than the ordinary civilian. His "honor" was more delicate than the honor
of women. It was no infrequent occurrence for an officer, willing to
right by marriage a woman whom he had wronged, to be refused permission
either because she did not have a dowry corresponding to his rank, or
because she was of a lower social class. Duelling among officers was
encouraged, and to step on an officer's foot, or even to stare too
fixedly at him _(fixieren)_ was an insult calling for a duel. An
officer's credit was good everywhere. His word was as readily accepted
as a civilian's bond, and honesty requires that it be said that his
trust was rarely misplaced. His exaggerated ideas of honor led
frequently to an arrogant conduct toward civilians, and occasionally to
assaults upon offenders, which in a few instances took the form of a
summary sabering of the unfortunate victim.[6]
[6] Some travelers and a certain class of correspondents have
unduly exaggerated the conditions referred to. They have
pictured murders of this sort as of frequent occurrence, and,
if they could be believed, German officers made it a custom
to require women in the street cars to surrender their seats
to them. In many years' residence in Germany the author
learned of but two cases of the murder of civilians by
officers, and he never saw a display of rudeness toward a
woman. The German officer almost invariably responded in kind
to courtesy, but he did expect and require deference from
civilians.
The crassest of the outward, non-political manifestations of militarism
in recent years was the Zabern affair. A young lieutenant had sabered a
crippled shoemaker for a real or fancied offense against military rules.
The townspeople made a demonstration against the officer, and the
colonel commanding the regiment stationed at Zabern locked a number of
the civilians in the cellar of the barracks and kept them there all
night. This was too much even for a docile German Reichstag, and an
excited debate was followed by the passing of a vote of censure on a
government which, through the mouths of its Chancellor and War Minister,
had justified the colonel's actions. The colonel and the lieutenant were
convicted upon trial and adequate sentences were imposed upon them, but
the convictions were significantly set aside upon appeal and both
escaped punishment. It was in connection with this affair that the
German Crown Prince earned the censure of the soberer German elements by
sending an encouraging telegram to the arbitrary colonel.
Militarism, in the aspects discussed, was a purely internal affair and
concerned only the German people themselves. But there was another
aspect, and it was this that made it a menace to the peace of the world
and to true democracy.
The very possession of an admirable weapon is a constant temptation to
use it. This temptation becomes stronger in proportion as it springs
with inclination. The Germans of the last fifty years were not a
bellicose people. They had suffered too greatly from wars within the
recollection of millions of men and women still living. On the other
hand, they were familiar with war and the thought of it did not invoke
the same repugnant fears and apprehensions as among less sorely tested
peoples. The mothers of every generation except the youngest knew what
it meant to see husbands, sons and brothers don the King's coat and
march away behind blaring bands; they knew the anxiety of waiting for
news after the battle, and the grief that comes with the announcement of
a loved one's death, and they considered it dimly, if they philosophized
about it at all, as one of the things that must be and against which it
were unavailing to contend. But the officers as a whole were bellicose.
The reasons are multifold. It is inherent in the profession that
officers generally are inclined to desire war, if for no other reason,
than because it means opportunities for advancement and high honors.
Beyond this, the German officer's training and traditions taught him
that war was in itself a glorious thing.
In trying to understand the influences that dominated the government of
Germany in its relations to foreign countries it must be clearly
realized and remembered that the real rulers of Germany came from the
caste that had for nearly two centuries furnished the majority of the
members of the officer-corps. The Emperor-King, assuming to rule by the
grace of God, in reality ruled by the grace of the old nobility and
landed gentry of Prussia, from whose ranks he sprang. This had been
aptly expressed eighty years earlier by the poet Chamisso, in whose
_Nachtwaechterlied_ appear the lines:
_Und der Koenig absolut,_
_Wenn er unseren Willen tut!_
(Let the King be absolute so long as he does our will.) It was
inevitable that the views of this class should determine the views of
government, and the only remarkable thing about the situation was that
some of the men who, by the indirect mandate of this caste, were
responsible for the conduct of the government, were less bellicose and
more pacific than their mandate-givers. There were some men who,
infected with the virus of militarism, dreamed of the _Welt-Imperium_,
the eventual domination of the world by Germany, to be attained by
peaceful methods if possible, but under the threatening shadow of the
empire's mighty military machine, which could be used if necessary. Yet
even in their own caste they formed a minority.
Such, in brief outline, was Germany--an empire built on the bayonets of
the world's greatest and most efficient army and administered by tens of
thousands of loyal and efficient civil servants. How was it possible
that it could be overthrown?
In the last analysis it was not overthrown; it was destroyed from within
by a cancer that had been eating at its vitals for eighty years. And the
seeds of this cancer, by the strange irony of fate, were sown in Germany
and cultivated by Germans.
The cancer was Socialism, or Social-Democracy, as it is termed in
Germany.
CHAPTER III.
Internationalism and Vaterlandslose Gesellen.
The concluding statement in the previous chapter must by no means be
taken as a general arraignment of Socialism, and it requires careful
explanation. Indiscriminately to attack Socialism in all its economic
aspects testifies rather to mental hardihood than to an understanding of
these aspects. A school of political thought which has so powerfully
affected the polity of all civilized nations in the last fifty years and
has put its impress upon the statutes of those countries cannot be
lightly dismissed nor condemned without qualification.
Citizens of the recently allied countries will be likely also to see
merit in Socialism because of the very fact that, in one of its aspects,
it played a large part in overthrowing an enemy government. Let this be
clearly set down and understood at the very beginning: the aspects of
Socialism that made the German governmental system ripe for fall were
and are inimical not only to the governmental systems of all states, but
to the very idea of the state itself.
More: The men responsible for the _debacle_ in Germany--and in
Russia--regard the United States as the chief stronghold of capitalism
and of the privilege of plutocracy, and the upsetting of this country's
government would be hailed by them with as great rejoicing as were their
victories on the continent.
The aspect of Socialism that makes it a menace to current theories of
government is "internationalism"--its doctrine that the scriptural
teaching that all men are brothers must become of general application,
and the negation of patriotism and the elimination of state boundaries
which that doctrine logically and necessarily implies. And this doctrine
was "made in Germany."
The basic idea of Socialism goes back to the eighteenth century, but its
name was first formulated and applied by the Englishman Robert Owen in
1835. Essentially this school of political thought maintains that land
and capital generally--the "instruments of production"--should become
the property of the state or society. "The alpha and omega of Socialism
is the transformation of private competing aggregations of capital into
a united collective capital."[7] Ethically Socialism is merely New
Testament Christianity, but, as will be seen later, it is in effect
outspokenly material, irreligious and even actively anti-religious.
[7] _Die Quintessenz des Sozialismus_, by Schaeffle.
Socialism received its first clear and intelligent formulation at the
hands of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, both Germans, although Marx was
of Jewish descent. In 1847 these two men reorganized under the name
"Communist League" a society of Socialists already in existence in
London. The "Manifesto of the Communist League" issued by these two men
in 1848 was the first real proclamation of a Socialism with outspoken
revolutionary and international aims. It demanded that the
laboring-classes should, after seizure of political might, "by despotic
interference with the property rights and methods of production of the
_bourgeoisie_, little by little take from them all capital and
centralize all instruments of production in the hands of the state, i.
e., in the hands of the proletariat organized as the ruling-class." Marx
and Engels recommended therefore the expropriation of real estate, the
confiscation of the property of all emigrants and the centralization in
the hands of the state of all means of credit (banks) and
transportation.
The dominant idea of the Socialism of this period was that set forth by
Marx in his book, _Das Kapital_, which became the textbook of the
movement. It was, in brief, that all wealth is produced by labor, and
that the surplus above the amount necessary for the bare existence of
the laborers is appropriated by the capitalists. Marx's admirers have
often endeavored to show that the communism advocated by him in these
first years was not the violent communism that has eventuated in the
last years in Bolshevism and kindred movements under other names. The
question is of only academic interest, in view of the fact that Marx
himself later realized that existing institutions could not so easily be
overturned as he had hoped and believed in 1848. Engels had also come to
a realization of the same fact, and in 1872, when the two men prepared a
new edition of the Manifesto of twenty-four years earlier, they admitted
frankly:
"The practical application of these principles will always and
everywhere depend upon historically existing conditions, and we
therefore lay no especial stress upon the revolutionary measures
proposed. In the face of the tremendous development of industry
and of the organization of the laboring-classes accompanying
this development, as well as in view of practical experience,
this program is already in part antiquated. The Commune (of 1871
in Paris) has supplied the proof that the laboring-class cannot
simply take possession of the machinery of state and set it in
motion for its own purposes."
This awakening, however, came, as has been pointed out, nearly a quarter
of a century after the founding of a Socialist kindergarten which openly
taught revolution. In its first years this kindergarten concerned itself
only with national (German) matters, and was only indirectly a menace to
other countries by its tendency to awaken a spirit of unrest among the
laboring-classes and to set an example which might prove contagious. In
1864, however, the _Internationale_ was founded with the cooperation of
Marx and Engels, and Socialism became a movement which directly
concerned all the states of the world.
This development of Socialism was logical and natural, for its creed was
essentially and in its origins international. It had originated in
England in the days of the inhuman exploitation of labor, and especially
child-labor, by conscienceless and greedy capitalists. It had been tried
out in France. Prominent among its advocates were many Russians, notably
Michael Bakunin, who later became an anarchist. Perhaps the majority of
its advocates on the continent were Jews or of Jewish descent, for no
other race has ever been so truly international and so little bound by
state lines. The _Internationale_ had been in the air for years before
it was actually organized; that organization was delayed for sixteen
years by no means indicates that the idea was new in 1864.
The basic idea of the _Internationale_ has already been referred to. It
accepted as a working-creed the biblical doctrine that God "hath made of
one blood all nations of men," but it disregarded the further
declaration in the same verse of the Scriptures that He "hath determined
the bounds of their habitation." The Socialist creed teaches the
brotherhood of man and the equality of all men irrespective of race,
color or belief. The inescapable corollary of this creed is that
patriotism, understood as unreasoning devotion to the real or supposed
interests of the state, cannot be encouraged or even suffered. And this
standpoint necessarily involves further the eventual obliteration of the
state itself, for any state's chief reason for existence in a
non-altruistic world is the securing of special privileges, benefits,
advantages and protection for its own citizens, without consideration
for the inhabitants of other states. If this exercise of its power be
prohibited, the state's reason for existence is greatly diminished.
Indeed, it can have virtually only a social mission left, and a social
mission pure and simple cannot inspire a high degree of patriotism.
Many non-Socialist thinkers have perceived the antithesis between the
doctrine of the universal brotherhood of man and the particularism of
national patriotism. Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson wrote: "Patriotism is a stage
of transition." This doctrine may come as a shock to the average reader,
yet it is undoubtedly a prophetic and accurate statement of what will
some day be generally accepted. Thoughtfully considered, the idea will
be found less shocking than it at first appears. Neither Bjoernson nor
any other non-Socialist contemplates the abandonment of patriotism and
state lines except by natural development. The world, in other words, is
in a transitional stage, and when this transition shall have been
completed it will find a world where the egoism of national patriotism
has made way for the altruism of internationalism. And this will have
been accomplished without violent revolutionary changes, but merely by a
natural and peaceful evolutionary development.
Against such a development, if it come in the manner described and
anticipated, nobody can properly protest. But the Socialists of the
international school--and this is what makes international Socialism a
menace to all governments and gradually but surely undermined the German
state--will not wait upon the slow processes of transition. Upon peoples
for whom the flags of their respective countries are still emblems of
interests transcending any conceivable interests of peoples outside
their own state boundaries, emblems of an idea which must be
unquestioningly and unthinkingly accepted and against which no dictates
of the brotherhood of other men or the welfare of other human beings
have any claim to consideration, the Socialists would impose over night
their idea of a world without artificial state lines, and would
substitute the red flag for those emblems which the majority of all
mankind still reverence and adore. It requires no profound thinking to
realize that such a change must be preceded by a long period of
preparation if anarchy of production and distribution is to be avoided.
To impose the rule of an international proletariat under the present
social conditions means chaos. The world has seen this exemplified in
Russia, and yet Russia, where the social structure was comparatively
simple and industry neither complex nor widely developed, was the
country where, if anywhere today, such an experiment might have
succeeded.
Socialist leaders, including even the internationalists, have perceived
this. The murdered Jaures saw it clearly. But in the very nature of
things, the vast majority of the adherents of these doctrines are not
profound thinkers. Socialism naturally recruits itself from the lower
classes, and it is no disparagement to these to say that they are the
least educated. Even in states where the higher institutions of learning
are free--and there are very few such places--the ability of the poor
man's son to attend them is limited by the necessity resting upon him to
make his own living or to contribute to the support of his family. The
tenets of national Socialism naturally appeal to the young man, who
feels that he and his fellows are being exploited by those who own the
"instruments of production," and who sees himself barred from the
educational advantages which wealth gives. From the acceptance of the
economic tenets of national Socialism to advocacy of internationalism is
but a small step, easy to take for one who, in joining the Socialist
party, finds himself the associate of men who address him as "comrade"
and who look forward to a day when all men, white, black or yellow,
shall also be comrades under one flag and enlisted in one cause--the
cause of common humanity. These men realize no more than himself the
fact that existing social conditions are the result of historical
development and that they cannot be violently and artificially altered
without destroying the delicate balance of the whole machine. And since
this is the state of mind of the majority of the "comrades," even the
wisest leaders can apply the brakes only with great moderation, for the
leader who lags too far behind the majority of his party ceases to be a
leader and finds his place taken by less intelligent or less scrupulous
men.
Ferdinand Lassalle, the brilliant but erratic young man who organized
the first Socialist party in Germany, was a national Socialist. His
party grew slowly at first, and in 1864, when he died, it had but
4,600 members. In 1863 Marx aided by August Bebel and Wilhelm
Liebknecht,[8] formed the rival Confederation of German Unions upon an
internationalistic basis. This organization joined the _Internationale_
at its congress in Nuremburg in 1868. The parties of Marx and Lassalle
maintained their separate identities until 1875, when they effected a
fusion at a congress in Gotha. The Marx adherents numbered at that time
about 9,000 men and the Lassalle adherents some 15,000, but the latter
had already virtually accepted the doctrines of international Socialism
and the _Internationale_, and the German Socialists had until the
breaking out of the World War maintained their place as the apostles and
leaders of internationalism.
[8] Called "the elder Liebknecht" to distinguish him from his son
Karl Liebknecht, who was killed while under arrest in Berlin
in the winter of 1919.
Socialism first showed itself as a political factor in Germany in 1867,
when five Socialists were elected to the North German Diet. Two
_Genossen_[9] were sent to the first Reichstag in 1871, with a popular
vote of 120,000, and six years later nearly a half million red votes
were polled and twelve Socialists took their seats in the Reichstag. The
voting-strength of the party in Berlin alone increased from 6,700 in
1871 to 57,500 in 1877, or almost ninefold.
[9] _Genosse_, comrade, is the term by which all German-speaking
Socialists address each other.
A propaganda of tremendous extent and extreme ability was carried on. No
_bourgeois_ German politician except Bismarck ever had such a keen
appreciation of the power of the printed word as did those responsible
for Socialism's missionary work. Daily newspapers, weekly periodicals
and monthly magazines were established, and German Socialism was soon in
possession of the most extensive and best conducted Socialist press in
the world. The result was two-fold: the press contributed mightily to
the spreading of its party's doctrines and at the same time furnished a
school in which were educated the majority of the party leaders.
Probably three quarters of the men who afterward became prominent in the
party owed their rise and, to a great extent, their general education to
their service on the editorial staffs of their party's press. By
intelligent reports and special Articles on news of interest to all
members of the _Internationale_, whether German, French, English, or of
what nationality they might be, this press made itself indispensable to
the leaders of that movement all over the world, and contributed greatly
to influencing the ideas of the Socialists of other lands.
Bismarck's clear political vision saw the menace in a movement which
openly aimed at the establishment of a German republic and at the
eventual overthrow of all _bourgeois_ governments and the elimination of
local patriotism and state lines. In 1878 he secured from the Reichstag
the enactment of the famous _Ausnahmegesetze_ or special laws, directed
against the Socialists. They forbade Socialist publications and
literature in general, prohibited the holding of Socialist meetings or
the making of speeches by adherents of the party. Even the circulation
of Socialist literature was prohibited. The _Ausnahmegesetze_ legalized
as an imperial measure the treatment that had already been meted out to
Socialists in various states of the Empire. Following the Gotha congress
in 1875, fifty-one delegates to the congress were sent to prison.
Wilhelm Liebknecht received a sentence of three years and eight months
and Bebel of two years and eleven months. In Saxony, from 1870 to 1875,
fifty Socialists underwent prison sentences aggregating more than forty
years.
But Socialism throve on oppression. In politics, as in religion, the
blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church. It would be praising any
statesman of the '80's too highly to say that he had learned that ideas
cannot be combated with brute force, for the rulers of the world have
not yet learned it. But Bismarck did perceive that, to give any promise
of success, opposition to Socialism must be based upon constructive
statesmanship. To many of the party's demands no objection could be made
by intelligent society. And so, in the address from the throne in 1881,
an extended program of state socialism was presented. With the enactment
of this program into law Germany took the first important step ahead
along the road of state Socialism, and all her legislation for the next
thirty years was profoundly influenced by socialistic thought, in part
because of a recognition of the wisdom of some of Socialism's tenets, in
part because of a desire to draw the party's teeth by depriving it of
campaign material.
More than a decade earlier the Catholic Church in Germany had recognized
the threatening danger and sought to counteract it by the organization
of Catholic labor unions. It succeeded much better in its purpose than
did the government, which is not to be wondered at, since the temporal
affairs of the church have always been administered more intelligently
than have the state affairs of any of the world's governments. For many
years Socialism made comparatively small gains in Roman Catholic
districts. A similar effort by the Lutheran (State) Church in 1878
accomplished little, and Bismarck's state Socialism also accomplished
little to stop the spread of Socialist doctrines.
Kaiser Wilhelm II early realized the menace to the state of these
enemies of patriotism and of all _bourgeois_ states. In a much quoted
speech he termed the Socialists _vaterlandslose Gesellen_ (fellows
without a Fatherland). The designation stung all German Socialists, who,
ready as they were in theory to disavow all attachment to any state, did
not relish this kind of public denunciation by their monarch. The word
_Gesellen_, too, when used in this sense has an unpleasant connotation.
The Socialists, whose political tenets necessarily made them opponents
of royalty and monarchism everywhere, were particularly embittered
against a Kaiser whose contempt for them was so openly expressed. Their
press, which consistently referred to him baldly as "Wilhelm II" sailed
as closely into the wind of _lese majeste_ as possible, and sometimes
too closely. Leading Socialist papers had their special _Sitzredacteur_,
or "sitting-editor," whose sole function consisted in "sitting out" jail
sentences for insulting the Kaiser or other persons in authority. Police
officials, taking their keynote from the Kaiser, prosecuted and
persecuted Socialists relentlessly and unintelligently. Funeral
processions were stopped to permit policemen to remove red streamers and
ribbons from bouquets on the coffins, and graves were similarly
desecrated if the friends or mourners had ventured to bind their floral
offerings with the red of revolutionary Socialism. The laws authorizing
police supervision of all public meetings were relentlessly enforced
against Socialists, and their gatherings were dissolved by the
police-official present at the least suggestion of criticism of the
authorities. There was no practical remedy against this abuse of power.
An appeal to the courts was possible, but a decision in June that a
meeting in the preceding January had been illegally dissolved did not
greatly help matters. Socialist meetings could not be held in halls
belonging to a government or municipality, and the Socialists often or
perhaps generally found it impossible to secure meeting-places in
districts where the Conservatives or National Liberals were in control.
Federal, state and municipal employees were forbidden to subscribe for
Socialist publications, or to belong to that party.
The extent of these persecutions is indicated by a report made to the
Socialist congress at Halle in 1890, shortly after the _Ausnahmegesetze_
had expired by limitation, after a vain attempt had been made to get the
Reichstag to reenact them. In the twelve years that the law had been in
operation, 155 journals and 1,200 books and pamphlets had been
prohibited; 900 members of the party had been banished from Germany
without trial; 1,500 had been arrested on various charges and 300 of
these punished for violations of the law.
The _Ausnahmegesetze_ failed of their purpose just as completely as did
the Six Acts[10] of 1820 in England. Even in 1878, the very year these
laws were enacted, the Socialists polled more votes than ever before. In
1890 their total popular vote in the Empire was 1,427,000, which was
larger than the vote cast for any other single party. They should have
had eighty members in that year's Reichstag, but the shift in population
and consequent disproportionateness of the election districts kept the
number of Socialist deputies down to thirty-seven. At the Reichstag
election of 1893 their popular vote was 1,800,000, with forty-four
deputies.
[10] These acts were passed by Parliament after the Manchester
Riots of 1819: to prevent seditious meetings for a discussion
of subjects connected with church or state; to subject cheap
periodical pamphlets on political subjects to a duty; to give
magistrates the power of entering houses, for the purpose of
seizing arms believed to be collected for unlawful purposes.
It may be seriously questioned whether Bismarck's unfortunate
legislation did not actually operate to increase the Socialists'
strength. Certain it is that it intensified the feeling of bitterness
against the government, by men whose very creed compelled them to regard
as their natural enemy even the most beneficent _bourgeois_ government,
and who saw themselves stamped as Pariahs. This feeling found expression
at the party's congress in 1880 at Wyden, when a sentence of the program
declaring that the party's aim should be furthered "by every lawful
means" was changed to read, "by every means." It must in fairness be
recorded, however, that the revolutionary threat of this change appeared
to have no effect on the subsequent attitude of the party leaders or
their followers. The record of German Socialism is remarkably free from
violence and sabotage, and the revolution of 1918 was, as we shall see,
the work of men of a different stamp from the elder Liebknecht and the
sturdy and honest Bebel.
Two great factors in the growth of Socialism in Germany remain to be
described. These were, first, the peculiar tendency of the Teutonic
mind, already mentioned, to abstract philosophical thought, without
regard to practicalities, and, second, the accident that the labor-union
movement in Germany was a child of party-Socialism.
Socialism, in the last analysis, is nearer to New Testament Christianity
than is any other politico-economic creed, and the professions and
habits of thought of nearly all men in enlightened countries are
determined or at least powerfully influenced by the precepts of Christ,
no matter how far their practices may depart from these precepts. Few
even of those most strongly opposed to Socialism oppose it on ethical
grounds. Their opposition is based on the conviction that it is
unworkable and impracticable; that it fails to take into consideration
the real mainsprings of human action and conduct as society is today
constituted. In an ideally altruistic society, they admit, it would be
feasible, but, again, such a society would have no need of it. In other
words, the fundamental objection is the objection of the practical man.
Whether his objection is insuperable it is no part of the purpose of the
writer to discuss. What it is desired to make plain is that Socialism
appeals strongly to the dreamer, the closet-philosopher who concerns
himself with abstract ethical questions without regard to their
practicality or practicability as applied to the economic life of an
imperfect society. And there are more men of this type in Germany than
in any other country.
Loosely and inefficiently organized labor unions had existed in Germany
before the birth of the Socialist movement, but they existed
independently of each other and played but a limited role. The first
labor organization of national scope came on May 23, 1863, at Leipsic,
when Lassalle was instrumental in founding _Der allgemeine deutsche
Arbeiterverein_ (National German Workmen's Union). Organized labor, thus
definitely committed to Socialism, remained Socialist. To become a
member of a labor union in Germany--or generally anywhere on the
continent--means becoming an enrolled member of the Socialist party at
the same time. The only non-Socialist labor organizations in Germany
were the Catholic Hirsch-Duncker unions, organized at the instance of
the Roman Catholic Church to prevent the spread of Socialism. These were
boycotted by all Socialists, who termed them the "yellow unions," and
regarded them as union workmen in America regard non-union workers. It
goes without saying that a political party which automatically enrolls
in its membership all workmen who join a labor union cannot help
becoming powerful.
That international Socialism is inimical to nationalism and patriotism
has already been pointed out, but a word remains to be said on this
subject with reference to specific German conditions. We have already
seen how the Germany of the beginning of the nineteenth century was a
loose aggregation of more than three hundred dynasties, most of which
were petty principalities. The heritage of that time was a narrowly
limited state patriotism which the Germans termed _Particularismus_, or
particularism. Let the American reader assume that the State of Texas
had originally consisted of three hundred separate states, each with its
own government, and with customs and dialects varying greatly in the
north and south. Assume further that, after seventy years filled with
warfare and political strife, these states had been re-formed into
twenty-six states, with the ruler of the most powerful at the head of
the new federation, and that several of the twenty-six states had
reserved control over their posts, telegraphs, railways and customs as
the price for joining the federation. Even then he will have but a hazy
picture of the handicaps with which the Imperial German Government had
to contend.
Particularism was to the last the curse and weakness of the German
Empire. The Prussian regarded himself first as a Prussian and only in
second place as a German. The Bavarian was more deeply thrilled by the
white-and-blue banner of his state than by the black-white-red of the
Empire. The republican Hamburger thanked the Providence that did not
require him to live across the Elbe in the city of Altona, which was
Prussian, and the inhabitants of the former kingdoms, duchies and
principalities of Western Germany that became a part of Prussia during
the decades preceding the formation of the Empire regularly referred to
themselves as _Muss-Preussen_, that is, "must-Prussians," or Prussians
by compulsion.
The attempt to stretch this narrowly localized patriotism to make it
cover the whole Empire could not but result in a seriously diluted
product, which offered a favorable culture-medium for the bacillus of
internationalism. And in any event, to apply the standards of
abstract ethical reasoning to patriotism is fatal. The result may be
to leave a residue of traditional and racial attachment to one's
state, but that is not sufficient, in the present stage of human
society, for the maintenance of a strong government. Patriotism of
the my-country-right-or-wrong type must, like revealed religion, be
accepted on faith. German patriotism was never of this extreme type,
and in attacking it the Socialists made greater headway than would
have been the case in most countries.
The Socialists had thus seriously weakened the state at two vital
points. By their continuous advocacy of a republic and their obstructive
tactics they had impaired to a considerable extent the authority of the
state, and autocratic government rests upon authority. By their
internationalist teachings they had shaken the foundations of
patriotism. And there is still another count against them.
Opponents of Socialism accuse its advocates of being enemies of the
Christian religion and the church. Socialists declare in reply that
Socialism, being a purely economic school of thought, does not concern
itself with religious matters in any manner. They point out further that
the programs of Socialist parties in all lands expressly declare
religion to be a private matter and one about which the party does not
concern itself. This is only part of the truth. It is true that
Socialism officially regards religion as a private matter, but German
Socialism--and the Socialism of other lands as well--is in practice the
bitter enemy of the organized church. There is an abundance of evidence
to prove this assertion, but the following quotations will suffice.
August Bebel, one of the founders of German Socialism, said:
"We aim in the domain of politics at Republicanism, in the
domain of economics at Socialism, and in the domain of what is
today called religion at Atheism."[11]
[11] Quoted by W. H. Dawson in _German Socialism and Ferdinand
Lassalle_, ch. 15.
_Vorwaerts_, central organ of German Socialism, wrote on July 1, 1892:
"We would fight churches and preachers even if the preachers and
curates were the most conscientious of men."
_Vorwaerts_ contrived also to add insult to the statement by using the
word _Pfaffen_ for preachers, a word having a contemptuous implication
in this sense throughout Northern Germany.
Karl Kautsky, for years one of the intellectual leaders of the Socialist
movement in Germany and one of its ablest and most representative
publicists, said:[12]
"The one-sided battle against the congregations, as it is being
carried on today in France, is merely a pruning of the boughs of
the tree, which then merely flourishes all the more strongly.
The ax must be laid to the roots."
[12] Die neue Zeit, 1903, vol. i, p. 506.
_Genosse_ Dr. Erdmann, writing after the war had begun, said:
"We have no occasion to conceal the fact that Social-Democracy
is hostile to the church--whether Catholic or Evangelical--and
that we present our demands with special decision because we
know that we shall thus break the power of the church."[13]
[13] Sozialistische Monatshefte, 1915, vol. i, p. 516.
_Vorwaerts_ headlined an Article in January, 1918: "All religious systems
are enemies of women." (The Socialists nevertheless had the effrontery
during the campaign preceding the election of delegates to the National
Assembly at Weimar in January to put out a placard saying: "Women,
protect your religion! Vote for the Social-Democratic party of
Germany!").
The initial activities of the Workmen's and Soldiers' Councils in
Hamburg and Brunswick following the revolution were correctly described
in a speech made in the National Assembly on March 11, 1919, by Deputy
Mumm. He said:
"The revolutionary government in Hamburg has retained the
bordells and abolished religious instruction. In Brunswick the
school children of the capital, 1,500 in number, were assembled
in the Cathedral by the people's commissioners for an
anti-Christian Christmas celebration."
At the same session, Deputy Hellmann, a member of the Majority (parent)
Socialist party, said in a speech in answer to Mumm:
"The church, like all social institutions, is subject to
constant change, and will eventually disappear."
Quotations like the preceding could be multiplied indefinitely, as could
also acts consistent with these anti-religious views. The first Minister
of Cults (_Kultusminister_) appointed by the revolutionary government in
Prussia was Adolf Hoffmann, a professed atheist, although this ministry
has charge of the affairs of the church.
The Socialist literature and press in all countries abound in
anti-religious utterances. To quote one is to give a sample of all. The
_Social-Demokraten_ of Stockholm, official organ of the Swedish
Socialists and reckoned among the sanest, ablest and most conservative
of all Social-Democratic press organs, forgets, too, that religion is a
private matter. It reports a sermon by Archbishop Soederblom, wherein the
speaker declared that the church must have enough expansive force to
conquer the masses who are now coming to power in various lands, and
adds this characteristic comment:
"The Archbishop is a brave man who is not afraid to install a
motor in the venerable but antiquated skiff from the Lake of
Genesareth. If only the boat will hold him up!"
This attitude of Socialism is comprehensible and logical, for no student
of world history can deny that an established church has been in all
ages and still is one of the strongest bulwarks of an autocratic state.
From the very dawn of organized government, centuries before the
Christian era, the priesthood, where it did not actually govern, has
powerfully upheld the arm of civil authority and property rights. Even
in democratic England it teaches the child to "be content in the station
whereto it has pleased God to call me," and is thus a factor in
upholding the class distinctions against which Socialism's whole
campaign is directed. In opposing the church as an institution
Social-Democracy is thus merely true to its cardinal tenets. If the
power of the church be destroyed or materially weakened, a serious blow
is dealt to the government which that church supported. People who, at
the command of the church, have been unquestioningly rendering unto
Caesar the things that are Caesar's, begin to ask themselves: "But what
things are Caesar's?" And when the people begin seriously to consider
this question, autocracy is doomed.
The effect of the Socialist campaign against the church began to make
itself felt a decade or more before the war began. Withdrawals from the
church became so frequent that the government was seriously concerned.
The number of those who termed themselves _Dissident_ (dissenter) or
_religionslos_ (without any religion) increased rapidly. Clergymen
preached the doctrines of Christ to empty benches; _religionslose
Genossen_ preached the doctrines of class warfare and disloyalty to
state to Socialist audiences that filled their meeting-places.
Thus the cancer ate its way into the vitals of the Empire.
CHAPTER IV.
Germany under the "Hunger-Blockade."
The men whose duty it was to take every measure to increase Germany's
preparedness for war and her ability to carry on an extended conflict
had long realized that the Empire had one very vulnerable point. This
was her inability to feed and clothe her inhabitants and her consequent
dependence on imports of foodstuffs and raw materials.
Germany in the days of her greatness occupied so large a place in the
sun that one is prone to forget that this mighty empire was erected on
an area much less than that of the State of Texas. Texas, with 262,290
square miles, was 53,666 square miles greater than the whole German
Empire. And Germany's population was two-thirds that of the entire
United States! Germany was, moreover, comparatively poor in natural
resources. The March (Province) Brandenburg, in which Berlin is
situated, is little more than a sandheap, and there are other sections
whose soil is poor and infertile. Nor was it, like America, virgin soil;
on the contrary, it had been cultivated for centuries.
Driven by stern necessity, the Germans became the most intelligent and
successful farmers of the world. Their average yields of all crops per
acre exceeded those of any other country, and were from one and a half
to two times as large as the average yield in the United States. The
German farmer raised two and one half times more potatoes per acre than
the average for the United States. He was aided by an adequate supply of
cheap farm labor and by unlimited supplies of potash at low prices,
since Germany, among her few important natural resources, possessed a
virtual monopoly of the world's potash supply.
Try as they would, however, the German farmers could not feed and clothe
more than about forty of Germany's nearly seventy millions. Even this
was a tremendous accomplishment, which can be the better appreciated if
one attempts to picture the State of Texas feeding and clothing four of
every ten inhabitants of the United States. Strenuous efforts were made
by the German Government to increase this proportion. Moorlands were
reclaimed and extensive projects for such reclamation were being
prepared when the war came. The odds were too great, however, and the
steady shift of population toward the cities made it increasingly
difficult to cultivate all the available land and likewise increased the
amount of food required, since there is an inevitable wastage in
transportation. What this shift of population amounted to is indicated
by the fact that whereas the aggregate population of the rural districts
in 1871 was 63.9 per cent of the total population, it was but 40 per
cent in 1910. During the same period the percentage of the total
population living in cities of 100,000 population or over had increased
from 4.8 to 21.3.
In the most favorable circumstances about three-sevenths of the food
needed by Germany must be imported. The government had realized that a
war on two fronts would involve a partial blockade, but neither the
German Government nor any other government did or could foresee that a
war would come which would completely encircle Germany in effect and
make an absolute blockade possible. Even if this had been realized it
would have made no essential difference, for it must always have
remained impossible for Germany to become self-supporting.
Another factor increased the difficulties of provisioning the people.
The war, by taking hundreds of able-bodied men and the best horses from
the farms, made it from the beginning impossible to farm as intensively
as under normal conditions, and resulted even in the second summer of
the war in a greatly reduced acreage of important crops. Livestock,
depleted greatly by slaughtering and by lack of fodder, no longer
produced as much manure as formerly, and one of the main secrets of the
intelligent farming-methods of the Germans was the lavish use of
fertilizer. And thus, at a time when even the maximum production would
have been insufficient, a production far below the normal average was
being secured.
Germany's dependence on importations is shown by the import statistics
for 1913. The figures are in millions of marks.
Cereals 1037.
Eggs 188.2
Fruits 148.8
Fish 135.9
Wheaten products 130.3
Animal fats 118.9
Butter 118.7
Rice 103.9
Southern fruits 101.2
Meats 81.4
Live animals 291.6
Coffee 219.7
Cacao 67.1
It will be observed that the importations of cereals (bread-stuffs and
maize) alone amounted to roughly $260,000,000, without the further item
of "wheaten products" for $32,500,000.
Fodder for animals was also imported in large quantities. The figures
for cereals include large amounts of Indian corn, and oilcakes were also
imported in the same year to the value of more than $29,600,000.
Germany was no more able to clothe and shoe her inhabitants than she was
to feed them. Further imports for 1913 were (in millions of marks):
Cotton 664.1
Wool 511.7
Hides and skins 672.4
Cotton yarn 116.2
Flax and hemp 114.4
Woolen yarn 108.
Imports of chemicals and drugs exceeded $105,000,000; of copper,
$86,000,000; of rubber and gutta-percha, $36,500,000; of leaf-tobacco,
$43,500,000; of jute, $23,500,000; of petroleum, $17,400,000.
Of foodstuffs, Germany exported only sugar and vegetable oils in any
considerable quantities. The primarily industrial character of the
country was evidenced by her exportations of manufactures, which
amounted in 1913 to a total of $1,598,950,000, and even to make these
exportations possible she had imported raw materials aggregating more
than $1,250,000,000.
The war came, and Germany was speedily thrown on her own resources. In
the first months various neutrals, including the United States,
succeeded in sending some foodstuffs and raw materials into the
beleaguered land, but the blockade rapidly tightened until only the
Scandinavian countries, Holland, and Switzerland could not be reached
directly by it. Sweden, with a production insufficient for her own
needs, soon found it necessary to stop all exports to Germany except of
certain so-called "compensation articles," consisting chiefly of paper
pulp and iron ore. A continuance of these exports was necessary, since
Germany required payment in wares for articles which Sweden needed and
could not secure elsewhere. The same was true of the other neutral
countries mentioned. Denmark continued to the last to export foodstuffs
to Germany, but she exported the same quantity of these wares to
England. All the exports of foodstuffs and raw materials from all the
neutrals during the war were but a drop in the bucket compared with the
vast needs of a people of seventy millions waging war, and they played a
negligible part in its course.
Although the German Government was confident that the war would last but
a few months, its first food-conservation order followed on the heels of
the mobilization. The government took over all supplies of breadstuffs
and established a weekly ration of four metric pounds per person (about
seventy ounces). Other similar measures followed fast. Meat was
rationed, the weekly allowance varying from six to nine ounces in
different parts of the Empire.[14] The Germans were not great
meat-eaters, except in the cities. The average peasant ate meat on
Sundays, and only occasionally in the middle of the week, and the ration
fixed would have been adequate but for one thing. This was the
disappearance of fats, particularly lard, from the market. The Germans
consumed great quantities of fats, which took the place of meat to a
large extent. They now found themselves limited to two ounces of butter,
lard, and margarine together per week. Pork, bacon, and ham were
unobtainable, and the other meats which made up the weekly ration were
lean and stringy, for there were no longer American oilcakes and maize
for the cattle, and the government had forbidden the use of potatoes,
rye or wheat as fodder. There had been some twenty-four million swine in
Germany at the outbreak of the war. There were but four million left at
the end. Cattle were butchered indiscriminately because there was no
fodder, and the survivors, undernourished, gave less and poorer meat per
unit than normally.
[14] This allowance had dropped to less than five ounces in
Prussia in the last months of the war.
How great a part milk pays in the feeding of any people is not generally
realized. In the United States recent estimates are that milk in its
various forms makes up no less than nineteen per cent of the entire food
consumed. The percentage was doubtless much greater in Germany, where,
as in all European countries, much more cheese is eaten per capita than
in America. What the German farmer calls _Kraftfutter_, such
concentrated fodder as oilcakes, maize-meal, etc., had to be imported,
since none of these things were produced in Germany. The annual average
of such importations in the years just preceding the war reached more
than five million metric tons, and these importations were virtually all
cut off before the end of 1917.
The result was that the supply of milk fell off by nearly one half. Only
very young children, invalids, women in childbed and the aged were
permitted to have any milk at all, and that only in insufficient
quantities and of low grade. The city of Chemnitz boasted of the fact
that it had been able at all times to supply a quarter of a liter (less
than half a pint!) daily to every child under eight. That this should be
considered worth boasting about indicates dimly what the conditions must
have been elsewhere.
The value of eggs as protein-furnishing food is well known, but even
here Germany was dependent upon other countries--chiefly Russia--for
two-fifths of her entire consumption. Available imports dropped to a
tenth of the pre-war figures, and the domestic production fell off
greatly, the hens having been killed for food and also because of lack
of fodder.
Restriction followed upon restriction, and every change was for the
worse. The _Kriegsbrot_ (war bread) was directed to be made with twenty
per cent of potatoes or potato flour and rye. Barley flour was later
added. Wheat and rye are ordinarily milled out around 70 to 75 per cent,
but were now milled to 94 per cent. The bread-ration was reduced. The
sugar-ration was set at 1-3/4 pounds monthly. American housewives
thought themselves severely restricted when sugar was sold in pound
packages and they could buy as much heavy molasses, corn syrups and
maple syrup as they desired, but the 1-3/4-pound allowance of the German
housewife represented the sum total of all sweets available per month.
By the autumn of 1916 conditions had become all but desperate. It is
difficult for one who has not experienced it personally to realize what
it means to subsist without rice, cereals such as macaroni, oatmeal, or
butter, lard or oil (for two ounces of these articles are little better
than none); to be limited to one egg each three weeks, or to five pounds
of potatoes weekly; to have no milk for kitchen use, and even no spices;
to steep basswood blossoms as a substitute for tea and use dandelion
roots or roasted acorns as coffee for which there is neither milk nor
sugar, and only a limited supply of saccharine. Germany had been a
country of many and cheap varieties of cheese, and these took the place
of meat to a great extent. Cheese disappeared entirely in August, 1916,
and could not again be had.
In common with most European peoples, the Germans had eaten great
quantities of fish, both fresh and salted or smoked. The bulk of the
salted and smoked fish had come from Scandinavia and England, and the
blockade cut off this supply. The North Sea was in the war-zone, and the
German fishermen could not venture out to the good fishing-grounds. The
German fishermen of the Baltic had, like their North Seacoast brethren,
been called to the colors in great numbers. Their nets could not be
repaired or renewed because there was no linen available. Fresh fish
disappeared from view, and supplies of preserved fish diminished so
greatly that it was possible to secure a small portion only every third
or fourth week. Even this trifling ration could not always be
maintained.
No German will ever forget the terrible _Kohlruebenwinter_ (turnip
winter) of 1916-17. It took its name from the fact that potatoes were
for many weeks unobtainable, and the only substitute that could be had
was coarse fodder-turnips. The lack of potatoes and other vegetables
increased the consumption of bread, and even in the case of the
better-situated families the ration was insufficient. The writer has
seen his own children come into the house from their play, hungry and
asking for a slice of bread, and go back to their games with a piece of
turnip because there was no bread to give them. The situation of hard
manual laborers was naturally even worse.
The turnip-winter was one of unusual severity, and it was marked by a
serious shortage of fuel. Thus the sufferings from the cold were added
to the pangs of hunger. There was furthermore already an insufficiency
of warm clothing.Articles of wear were strictly rationed, and the
children of the poorer classes were inadequately clad.
The minimum number of calories necessary for the nourishment of the
average individual is, according to dietetic authorities, 3,000, and
even this falls some 300 short of a full ration. Yet as early as
December, 1916, the caloric value of the complete rations of the German
was 1,344, and, if the indigestibility and monotony of the fare be taken
into account, even less. To be continuously hungry, to rise from the
table hungry, to go to bed hungry, was the universal experience of all
but the very well-to-do. Not only was the food grossly insufficient in
quantity and of poor quality, but the deadly monotony of the daily fare
also contributed to break down the strength and, eventually, the very
morale of the people. No fats being available, it was impossible to fry
anything. From day to day the Germans sat down to boiled potatoes,
boiled turnips and boiled cabbage, with an occasional piece of stringy
boiled beef or mutton, and with the coarse and indigestible
_Kriegsbrot_, in which fodder-turnips had by this time been substituted
for potatoes. The quantity of even such food was limited.
A little fruit would have varied this diet and been of great dietetic
value, but there was no fruit. _Wo bleibt das Obst_ (what has become of
the fruit?) cried the people, voicing unconsciously the demands of their
bodies. The government, which had imported $62,500,000 worth of fruit in
1913, could do nothing. The comparatively few apples raised in Germany
were mixed with pumpkins and carrots to make what was by courtesy called
marmalade, and most of this went to the front, which also secured most
of the smaller fruits. A two-pound can of preserved vegetables or fruits
was sold to each family--not person--at Christmas time. This had to
suffice for the year.
A delegation of women called on the mayor of Schoeneberg, one of the
municipalities of Greater Berlin, and declared that they and their
families were hungry and must have more to eat.
"You will not be permitted to starve, but you must hunger," said the
mayor.[15]
[15] The mayor's statement contains in German a play on words:
_Ihr sollt nicht verhungern, aber hungern muesst Ihr_.
The other privations attendant upon hunger also played a great part in
breaking down the spirit of the people. In order to secure even the
official food-pittance, it was necessary to stand in queues for hours at
a time. The trifling allowance of soap consisted of a substitute made
largely of saponaceous clay. Starch was unobtainable, and there is a
deep significance in the saying, "to take the starch out of one." The
enormous consumption of tobacco at the front caused a serious shortage
at home, and this added another straw to the burdens of the male part of
the population. The shortage of cereals brought in its wake a dilution
of the once famous German beer until it was little but colored and
charged water, without any nourishment whatever.
The physical effects of undernutrition and malnutrition made themselves
felt in a manner which brought them home to every man. Working-capacity
dropped to half the normal, or even less. Mortality increased by leaps
and bounds, particularly among the children and the aged. The death rate
of children from 1 to 5 years of age increased 50 per cent; that of
children from 5 to 15 by 55 per cent. In 1917 alone this increased death
rate among children from 1 to 15 years meant an excess of deaths over
the normal of more than 50,000 in the whole Empire. In the year 1913,
40,374 deaths from tuberculosis were reported in German municipalities
of 15,000 inhabitants or more. The same municipalities reported 41,800
deaths from tuberculosis in the first six months of 1918, an increase of
more than 100 per cent. In Berlin alone the death rate for all causes
jumped from 13.48 per thousand for the first eight months of 1913 to
20.05 for the first eight months of 1918.
According to a report laid before the United Medical Societies in Berlin
on December 18, 1918, the "hunger blockade" was responsible for 763,000
deaths in the Empire. These figures are doubtless largely based on
speculation and probably too high, but one need not be a physician to
know that years of malnutrition and undernutrition, especially in the
case of children and the aged, mean a greatly increased death rate and
particularly a great increase of tuberculosis. In addition to the excess
deaths alleged by the German authorities to be directly due to the
blockade, there were nearly 150,000 deaths from Spanish influenza in
1918. These have not been reckoned among the 763,000, but it must be
assumed that many would have withstood the attack had they not been
weakened by the privations of the four war-years.
The enthusiasm that had carried the people through the beginnings of
their privations cooled gradually. No moral sentiments, even the most
exalted, can prevail against hunger. Starving men will fight or steal to
get a crust of bread, just as a drowning man clutches at a straw. There
have been men in history whose patriotism or devotion to an idea has
withstood the test of torture and starvation, but that these are the
exception is shown by the fact that history has seen fit to record their
deeds. The average man is not made of such stern stuff. _Mens sana in
corpore sano_ means plainly that there can be no healthy mind without a
healthy body. Hungry men and women who see their children die for want
of food naturally feel a bitter resentment which must find an object.
They begin to ask themselves whether, after all, these sacrifices have
been necessary, and to what end they have served.
The first answer to the question, What has compelled these sacrifices
was, of course, for everybody, The war. But who is responsible for The
War? Germany's enemies, answered a part of the people.
But there were two categories of Germans whose answer was another. On
the one side were a few independent thinkers who had decided that
Germany herself bore at least a large share of the responsibility; on
the other side were those who had been taught by their leaders that all
wars are the work of the capitalistic classes, and that existing
governments everywhere are obstacles to the coming of a true universal
brotherhood of man. These doctrines had been forgotten by even the
Socialist leaders in the enthusiasm of the opening days of the struggle,
but they had merely lain dormant, and now, as a result of sufferings and
revolutionary propaganda by radical Socialists, they awakened. And in
awakening they spread to a class which had heretofore been comparatively
free from their contagion.
Socialism, and more especially that radical Socialism which finds its
expression in Bolshevism, Communism and similar emanations, is
especially the product of discontent, and discontent is engendered by
suffering. The whole German people had suffered terribly, but two
categories of one mighty class had undergone the greatest hardships.
These were the _Unterbeamten_ and the _Mittelbeamten_, the government
employees of the lowest and the middle classes. This was the common
experience of all belligerent countries except the United States, which
never even remotely realized anything of what the hardships of war mean.
Wages of the laboring classes generally kept pace with the increasing
prices of the necessaries of life, and in many instances outstripped
them. But the government, whose necessities were thus exploited by the
makers of ammunition, the owners of small machine-shops and the hundreds
of other categories of workers whose product was required for the
conduct of the war, could not--or at least did not--grant corresponding
increases of salary to its civil servants. The result was a curious
social shift, particularly observable in the restaurants and resorts of
the better class, whose clientele, even in the second year of the war,
had come to be made up chiefly of men and women whose bearing and dress
showed them to be manual workers. The slender remuneration of the
_Beamten_ had fallen so far behind the cost of living that they could
neither frequent these resorts nor yet secure more than a bare minimum
of necessaries. The result was that thousands of these loyal men and
women, rendered desperate by their sufferings, began in their turn to
ponder the doctrines which they had heard, but rejected in more
prosperous times. Thus was the ground further prepared for the coming of
the revolution.
There was yet another factor which played a great part in increasing the
discontent of the masses. Not even the genius of the German Government
for organization could assure an equitable distribution of available
foodstuffs. Except where the supply could be seized or controlled at the
source, as in the case of breadstuffs and one or two other products, the
rationing system broke down. The result of the government's inability to
get control of necessaries of life was the so-called _Schleichhandel_,
literally "sneak trade," the illegitimate dealing in rationed wares.
Heavy penalties were imposed for this trade, applicable alike to buyer
and seller, and many prosecutions were conducted, but to no avail. The
extent of the practice is indicated by a remark made by the
police-president of a large German city, who declared that if every
person who had violated the law regarding illegitimate trade in
foodstuffs were to be arrested, the whole German people would find
itself in jail.
It has often been declared that money would buy anything in Germany
throughout the war. This statement is exaggerated, but it is a fact that
the well-to-do could at all times secure most of the necessaries and
some of the luxuries of life. But the prices were naturally so high as
to be out of the reach of the great mass of the people. Butter cost as
much as $8 a pound in this illegitimate trade, meat about the same, eggs
40 to 50 cents apiece, and other articles in proportion. The poorer
people--and this, in any country, means the great majority--could not
pay these prices. Themselves forced to go hungry and see their children
hunger while the wealthy _bourgeoisie_ had a comparative abundance, they
were further embittered against war and against all governments
responsible for war, including their own.
The German soldiers at the front had fared well by German standards. In
the third year of the war the writer saw at the front vast stores of
ham, bacon, beans, peas, lentils and other wares that had not been
available to the civil population since the war began. Soldiers home on
furlough complained of being continuously hungry and returned to the
lines gladly because of the adequate rations there.