THE TRAGIC ISOLATION OF GERMANY: AN INTERVIEW WITH A CONTINENTAL
STATESMAN
A few months ago[23] it was my good fortune to discuss the
international situation with Monsieur Emile Ollivier, the veteran
statesman, the Napoleonic Prime Minister with the light heart whose
name will ever be identified, and identified unjustly, with a
disastrous war. A few days ago it was again my privilege to discuss
the European situation with another Continental statesman whose name
will for ever be identified with the cause of peace. I am not at
liberty to disclose the identity of the illustrious speaker. Suffice
it to say that he is a statesman whose every word compels attention
all over the world and imposes respect, a man of infinite wit, of
penetrating intellect, and whose commanding personality has on more
than one occasion directed the course of world politics, and has
helped to save Europe from an impending catastrophe. For more than an
hour the speaker discussed with me, if an almost uninterrupted
monologue may be called a discussion, the anxious problems of modern
Germany. Without reticence or afterthought, he gave me the benefit of
his mature wisdom and of a lifelong experience.
[23] Written in the spring of 1914.
I.
You ask me to give you the key of the international situation. That
key is in Germany, or rather in Berlin. For Prussia controls Germany,
and will more and more control it in the future.
The Germans are nervous and uneasy, and that is why they ceaselessly
increase their armaments. They are nervous because the whole European
situation has been radically changed, to their detriment. The whole
balance of power has been upset by the results of the Balkan War. They
are nervous because they are tragically isolated. Germany has no
friends, no allies, and has therefore to defend herself on two, or
rather on three, fronts. She has to defend herself at once against
France, against Russia, and against England.
It is true that the Triple Alliance still subsists. But it subsists
only in name. For Germany can count neither on Italy nor on Austria.
She cannot count on Italy. For Italy is a hopeless coquette, and she
transfers her erratic affections wherever her interest leads her. Nor
can Germany count on Austria. No longer can Austria be called the
"loyal secundant." For Austria has ceased to be controlled by her
Teutonic population. She is at the mercy of the Slavs, both inside and
outside of her empire. She is abandoned by Roumania, who is seeking
the support of Russia. She is detested by the Serbians, who have the
best organized army in the Balkans. It would have been the vital
interest of Austria to win over Serbia, and it would have been so easy
to win her over. An equitable treaty of commerce, the concession of a
port on the Adriatic, and Serbia would have become the ally of
Austria. Serbia was prepared to forget the shameful policy hitherto
pursued by Austria. All that was required was some give-and-take, some
fairness.
II.
But that sense of fairness, of international equity, is exactly what
both Prussia and Austria are so lamentably deficient in. The
Austrians, like the Prussians, may be individually most pleasant.
Politically and collectively they are consistently disagreeable. They
never seem to understand the first principle of diplomacy--namely,
that no treaty can be of any permanent value which is only
advantageous to one side.
And then there is the utter tactlessness of the Germans. It is partly
explainable by their belief in force. When you believe in force you do
not trouble to persuade or conciliate. It is also partly explainable
by the absence in Prussia of an old tradition of refinement and
culture. As Bismarck once said cynically and frankly to Thiers: "Mon
cher ami! Nous autres Prussiens, nous sommes encore des barbares" (We
Prussians, we are still barbarians).
The Prussian, therefore, in diplomacy is a blunderer and a bully. He
has the art of making himself unpleasant. And he seems to enjoy doing
so. It is significant that the Germans are the only people who have
coined a special word to express the pleasure felt by inflicting
pain. The curious and expressive German word _Schadenfreude_ cannot be
translated into any other language.
III.
And that is why in politics the Germans fail to make friends. They are
feared by all nations. They are respected by some. They are loved by
none.
And they fail to make friends at home quite as lamentably as abroad.
They fail to win over the nations living under their own German laws.
They are making such inconceivable blunders as the expropriation of
the Poles and the colonization scheme of Posen. It is a striking fact
that with the single possible exception of the Galicians--who fear
Russia even more than they detest Austria--there is not a single
non-German-speaking people either in the German Empire or in the
Austrian Empire who has accepted the rule of the Teuton. Alsatian and
Dane, Pole and Tchech, Croatian and Roumanian--all the subject races
are equally disaffected. They may disagree in everything, but they
agree in their opposition to Teutonic rule.
What a tragedy this German world empire of the twentieth century! Once
Germany was made up of little cities and great Universities. To-day
she is made up of big cities and impotent Universities. Where are the
spiritual and artistic glories of the past? The moral and intellectual
influence of Germany has reached its lowest ebb.
IV.
It is this striking isolation of Germany which compels her to arm. On
the other hand, there can be no doubt that this very isolation is
making for peace. Nobody either in Europe or Germany wants war.
Neither the Emperor nor his Ministers want war. War is too great a
risk. It is too much of a gamble. In warfare it is always the
unexpected that happens. War may be the national industry of Prussia.
But it is the most _speculative_ of all industries.
At the same time, whilst we are all wishing for peace, we must ever be
on our guard. With the militarist tendencies of a bureaucratic and
despotic State, with the economic pressure of an increasing
population, one is always at the mercy of an incident. Twenty-five
years ago the Schnaebele incident brought Europe to the verge of war.
Similar frontier incidents in this age of aeroplanes can happen any
day. They did happen yesterday. They did not lead to serious
consequences. They might lead to fatal consequences to-morrow. They
might be magnified by a sensational Press and by bellicose partisans
such as the Pan-Germanists. The Pan-Germanists may be only a small
minority to-day, but they are noisy, and they are just the kind of
people ever looking out for just such "unpleasant incidents."
Yes, let us be on our guard! Let us not trust to a false sense of
security, and let us not put our trust in politics and politicians.
Politics are so petty, and politicians so impotent. How many so-called
statesmen are there to-day who have the courage of their convictions,
and who would not be carried away by the impulses and emotions of the
moment?
V.
Such were the weighty words of the European statesman. They were
uttered without animus and without passion. They were uttered with the
serene detachment of the philosopher and of the experienced man of the
world. And they express the deliberate opinions of a confirmed
pacifist. And they express the substantial truth.
It would be well if our German friends would ponder and meditate those
sober and sobering utterances. It would be well if they would try and
give their own explanation of their tragic isolation and of their
universal political unpopularity. It would be well if they in turn
would ask themselves why political Germany is left without a friend in
the wide world? As Maximilian Harden once said: "Uns lebt kein Freund
auf der weiten Welt." Might not the result of such sobering
reflections be to induce the Germans to turn over a new leaf? Might it
not help to precipitate the downfall of a medieval military
bureaucracy? And might it not help to falsify the ominous prophecy of
our European statesman that Prussia will more and more control the
politics of the German Empire?
We loved the glorious Germany of the past. Let the Germany of
to-morrow make herself again as cordially liked as she is feared
to-day. But let her understand that no nation will allow herself to
be bullied into sympathy. Sympathy must be spontaneous. In the words
of one of her greatest thinkers: "Die Liebe ist wie der Glaube, man
kann sie nicht erzwingen" (Love is like Faith. You cannot secure it by
force).