Europe's Last Summer (13 page)

The war ministry persevered in trying to limit the army's numbers in order to preserve Prussian Junker control of it, while the alarmed Moltke proposed a nearly 50 percent rise in its size. The army bill of 1912 was large, but that of 1913 was the largest in German history. The German peacetime military machine was running at fall capacity; the increases could not be fully digested until 1916.

As the German leaders were aware, their frantic
arms buildup would inspire other countries to try to match it. But they had arrived at some kind of limit. As Germany was then constituted, it probably was not possible to expand any further. The political organization was too ramshackle; the taxation system too archaic and unprogressive. Germany could not afford to continue its military expansion for much longer. The only thing that could justify military expenditures at their 1913 level was to go to war in the immediate future. But German public opinion was not ready for it. Moltke wrote to Conrad, chief of the Austrian General Staff, in February 1913 that it would be hard to find a rallying cry that would persuade the German public to go to war—yet.

CHAPTER 15: EUROPE GOES
TO THE BRINK

Between 1908 and 1913 the Young Turk revolt had been followed by one European intervention after another in lands that once had been or still were Ottoman. The uprising in Turkey had led to Austria's annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina. France then had made its move in Morocco, inspiring Italy to strike at the Ottoman Empire in Libya and the Aegean, while Serbia, Montenegro, Greece, and Bulgaria attacked it in the Balkans. In those five years the Great Powers had managed to steer clear of one another, averting one clash after another, while at the same time moving ever closer to ultimate collision. Total arms spending by the six Great Powers between 1908 and 1913 went up by 50 percent.

Taken together the events of those years worked a change in the face of European politics.

• Britain, in the Agadir crisis, indicated that it would abandon its traditional isolation in order to stand by France if France were threatened by Germany—even if it were France's fault.
  
• France, in the Balkan wars, showed that it would go beyond its purely defensive treaty to back Russia in a conflict with Germany started by Russia.
  
• Germany, isolated in the Agadir crisis despite its defensive treaty with the Dual Monarchy, moved in the direction of supporting the Hapsburg Empire—supporting it (as Moltke pledged to Conrad in the Bosnia-Herzegovina crisis) even in an act of aggression— rather than be isolated again.
  
• Italy, unpredictable militarily even against the slow-moving Ottoman Empire, was not to be relied upon.
  
• Turkey-in-Europe, liberated by the Balkan peoples themselves rather than (as had been expected) by the Great Powers, fell prey therefore to the volatile violence and passions of its rival ethnic groups, rather than enjoying the stability that Great Power balance of power might have brought.
  
• Serbia, exulting in its lightning victories in two Balkan wars, looked forward to expanding.
  
• Austria, mortally afraid of Serbian designs, came to believe that striking first might be its only hope. Austria, regarding the Balkan states as potentially a single bloc—and, as such, the equivalent of a new Great Power—worried that it might become a Slav and Greek Orthodox entity, aligned with Russia, which therefore might fundamentally shift the balance of forces in Europe in favor of France/Russia.
  
• The Kaiser, for a time, saw the shift in the balance of power as creating a buffer that might solve the problem of Austro-Russian rivalry, while allowing Christians to unite in expanding eastward against Islam.
  

On October 23, 1913, Wilhelm described the outcome of the Balkan wars to the Austro-Hungarian foreign minister by saying: "What was taking place was an historic process to be classed in the same category as the great migrations of people, the present case was a powerful forward surge of the Slavs. War between East and West was in the long run inevitable." He continued by saying: "The Slavs are born not to rule but to obey." His bizarre conception at the time was that Serbia could be persuaded to accept Austria's leadership and save the West. Under Teutonic leadership, Christianity would look eastward for expansion as once the tide of Islam had flowed westward.

Of all the shifts in inclination and perception that took place in European international politics during the years before the war, perhaps the one most at odds with our perceptions today was the belief, widely held in Berlin, that Germany was growing weaker. In retrospect, what strikes us is that, to the contrary, Germany was surging ahead industrially and militarily; it was growing stronger. The industrial and other figures are there to prove it, and at the time such astute British politicians and businessmen as
Joseph Chamberlain saw British decline vis-à-vis Germany as a reality. But Moltke spoke for many in seats of power in Germany who regarded an eventual war as unavoidable—and who were convinced that it could be won only if fought sooner rather than later. If Austria needed a war today, Germany needed one, in Moltke's view, no later than tomorrow.

Although, as the Kaiser's new perspective indicated, Europe was pulling back from the brink, the brink remained close. Between 1908 and 1913, Europeans had moved the line permanently closer to it. Earlier, the powers were bound by secret treaties of alliance that pledged them to help each other in case of an attack. Now the alliances no longer were defensive. France would fight for Russia, and Britain might well fight for France, right or wrong, as would Germany for Austria. The question that the war would settle would be: which of the Great Powers would remain a Great Power? As of 1914, only one of them felt its status—and existence—immediately threatened unless it took prompt action, and that power was Austria-Hungary.

Encirclement was Germany's nightmare, and Germany had brought it upon itself. Located in the heart of Europe, the country had so effectively terrified its neighbors that they had banded together in self-defense. In turn, what its neighbors had been driven to do had further reinforced Germany's paranoia. What had started as a dark fantasy was converted by Germany's own actions into a reality. France, England, and Russia had no intention of attacking Germany, but they were making contingency plans for combining against the Kaiser's empire if and when it attacked them.

Culturally, in every way the most and best educated population in Europe—that of Germany—was telling itself that it was being suffocated by a European civilization that was pressing in on it from all sides. It was not evident then nor is it now why the Germans felt that way, but it is clear that they did.

Such sentiments were certainly apparent in military and political matters. Historians believe there was an easing of tensions between England and Germany in 1914 as they settled such conflicts as those relating to the German plan to build a Berlin-to-Baghdad railway and to appoint a German general officer,
Otto Liman von Sanders, to reorganize the Ottoman army. But when Germany's Anglophile ambassador in London sent home a message urging Germany and Britain to stick together, a high Berlin foreign policy official could only imagine that the ambassador had been duped by the British: "again put into swaddling clothes" (June 27, 1914). When a Russian newspaper urged Entente preparedness, "Against us" was the Kaiser's marginal note; "they are working on high pressure for an early war with us." To the newspaper's assertion that "Russia and France want no war," the Kaiser scribbled "Twaddle!"

CHAPTER 16: MORE BALKAN TREMORS

In the turbulent
Balkans of the early twentieth century, peace treaties seemed to be no more than temporary truces during which the parties schemed at realignment for the next round of fighting. So it was in mid-June 1914, as Kaiser Wilhelm II held discussions with his friend Archduke
Franz Ferdinand. These talks were followed by a far-ranging conversation between Franz Ferdinand and Count Berchtold, foreign minister of the Dual Monarchy. These, in turn, led to the drafting by several hands within the Hapsburg foreign ministry of a memorandum outlining a grand strategy for Austria-Hungary.

Wilhelm and Franz Ferdinand met at the Archduke's country estate, Konopischt, in Bohemia (today's Czech Republic). No transcript survives, but there is evidence that Franz Ferdinand had been asked by his emperor, Franz Joseph, to obtain from Wilhelm a commitment to continue to back Austria unconditionally, such as he had given in November 1912, and that Wilhelm had avoided providing such a statement. The Austrian government believed that Serbia posed a mortal danger, but the Kaiser disagreed.

The political
relationship between Wilhelm and Franz Ferdinand was far more complex than it appeared on the surface. For the Kaiser, it was, at least in part, a friendship of convenience. He had set out to form a bond with the Hapsburg heir apparent. In some respects that was easy to do because of their shared tastes, including a passion for hunting. Wilhelm made a point of treating Sophie, Franz Ferdinand's wife, as an Archduchess, a position denied to her in her own country. He dealt with the Archduke as though he were the political partner that, upon the death of elderly Franz Joseph, he might well become. He worked at making a friend of Franz Ferdinand, but Franz Ferdinand may not have been entirely fond of Wilhelm. There were
tensions within the Austro-German alliance.

Both were men of autocratic temperament. They were impatient and held strong biases. But Franz Ferdinand was Roman Catholic while Wilhelm was Lutheran. And the Archduke deeply resented the descent of the Hapsburg Empire from its first place among the powers of Europe to its position in 1914 as a junior partner to Wilhelm's Germany. He detested Hungary, and deplored the weakness that drove Austria to make the Magyars a partner in government. Wilhelm, on the contrary, spoke highly of
Count István Tisza, the Hungarian Prime Minister, but failed to convince Franz Ferdinand.

Both men entertained hopes of an eventual detente with Russia, whose Czar shared their belief in royal absolutism. But just as Wilhelm allowed his anti-Slav racism to overcome his monarchist ideology, Nicholas subordinated his ideology to his country's national interest. And it should be noted that the Kaiser had a paranoid fear that Russia was planning a war against Germany.

Time and again, during the frequent war crises that were so conspicuous a feature of their time, both men chose peace, and were distrusted by the military in their respective countries for having done so. Both men were intemperate in their use of language: Franz Ferdinand in dealing with people, Wilhelm in dealing with politics.

Though in theory they were closest allies, the Kaiser's Germany pursued ambitious economic plans in Asia, and even in the Balkans from which Franz Ferdinand's Dual Monarchy was excluded. Austria-Hungary would not back Germany in Morocco; Germany would not support Austria-Hungary in Albania. Regarding the belligerents in the Second Balkan War, Germany was for Greece and Austria was for Bulgaria. Austrians could not understand how Germany could fail to see why
Serbia, which had just doubled in size, terrified them. Serbia exercised a powerful magnetic pull on the substantial Slavic population of the Hapsburg Empire.

In policy planning in June 1914, the question for the two empires was which country should be their main Balkan ally: Romania or Bulgaria? Germany chose Romania while Austria chose, once again, Bulgaria. But on this issue Franz Ferdinand parted company with his government; he, like the Kaiser, was for Romania.

Here they were in counsel together, two of the most disliked men in European public life, yet, within the ranks of their own governments, perhaps the only ones of consequence who again and again favored pulling back from the brink of war. They were misunderstood by the outside world. The Kaiser, who loved to talk tough, often ranted and raved like a belligerent adolescent trying to impress his peers, but while his tirades were bellicose, his decisions—when the time to act arrived—by and large were not. There was no reason to misunderstand Franz Ferdinand, however; he spoke as well as worked to achieve
peace.

General Conrad, sometime Austrian chief of staff, recalled Franz Ferdinand's aide-de-camp as saying in 1913, "The Archduke has sounded the retreat all along the line, he will on no account have war with Russia, he will not allow it. He wants not a plum tree, not a sheep from Serbia." Berchtold, Austria's foreign minister, said to Conrad, "The Heir Apparent is all on the side of peace." Reportedly Franz Ferdinand told dinner guests that Austria had nothing to gain from conquering Serbia; going to war would be "a bit of nonsense."

On March 16, 1914, Conrad spoke, as he so often did, of going to war as soon as possible against Russia. He was speaking to the German ambassador in Vienna, who explained why it could not happen: "Two important people are against it, your Archduke Franz Ferdinand and my Kaiser."

A secret truth about the politics of 1914—something of which the outside world had no suspicion—was that if these two men continued to work together in pursuit of their common policy goals, the Great Powers of Europe might well have remained at peace. The wars of 1914 would not have taken place.

Count Berchtold had come to Konopischt the day after Wilhelm left. It was Sunday, June 14, two weeks before Franz Ferdinand's scheduled trip to Sarajevo. The two men and their wives spent the day together. Afterwards Berchtold put his foreign ministry officials to work on questions that were at issue. It was not really
his
staff. It consisted of a clique of talented firebrands he had inherited from Aehrenthal, who had known how to control their high spirits. Now Berchtold was giving them their head. His aim was to summarize Austria's current thinking on world affairs: where the Dual Monarchy was and where it hoped to go.