If secret diplomacy exhibits its drawbacks even in a country where parliamentary government is so highly developed as in England and where political intelligence and independence of judgment exist, we shall not be surprised at the continuous prevalence of devious methods in diplomacy in countries where the conduct of foreign affairs is considered quite frankly a matter only for the initiated, and where little pretense is made of an appeal to public opinion except in the sense of holding it in subjection by vague general ideas of national danger, necessity, and honor. The main faults of German diplomacy were due to its bureaucratic point of view and its lack of contact with public opinion, both at home and abroad. It was distinctly an expression of the authoritative will of the state, guided by a supposed inner knowledge of its dangers and needs, but without any real effort to strengthen itself through contact with the public mind. The Reichstag was indeed occasionally informed of foreign developments, perhaps as frequently as in England, but there was no real mutual influence between the nation and the officials conducting foreign affairs. As has already been pointed out, German diplomacy failed to reassure either the neighbors or the people of Germany; its lack of clear objectives was puzzling and disquieting. It was also hurt by its constant, evident dependence on what should have been only the very last resort—military force. A further disquieting characteristic of German politics was that there seemed to be a cynical approval of certain courses of action which might indeed resemble what some other nations were doing, but which were treated by the latter rather as regrettable necessities. Thus there is, for instance, the conception of Realpolitik, of which Frederick the Great’s statement is an extreme instance: “Before declaring my intentions I consider on the one side the adverse incidents which I must risk; on the other, the good fortune which I might hope; and after thorough consideration of pro and con, I decide for war.”
Coming now to the fateful crisis of 1914, it would appear that at this time a great danger was allowed to grow up without the men in control of the government giving themselves a full account as to the fatal probabilities involved, whereas the parliament and the public remained entirely uninformed. Germany had always more or less backed her Austrian ally in the Balkan policy of the latter. Bismarck had indeed been very cautious in this respect, and had been fully aware of the danger inherent in such a policy, of committing Germany through giving Austria too much head. When the Servian question became acute, the heads of the German Government were indeed so reckless in encouraging strong Austrian action as to justify the impression that they desired to push Austria-Hungary into a conflict. It would, however, appear, from a full study of all the data which is now possible, that the Kaiser and Bethmann-Hollweg were quite optimistic in believing that the conflict could be localized and that the solution could be left to Austria and Servia. When it was beginning to become quite clear that Russia would in this instance not stand aside and that therefore France, too, would be thrown into the conflict, the German Chancellor began to make belated efforts to induce Austria to accept the mediation of the Powers on the basis that Belgrade should be occupied to assure compliance with the Servian promises. The Austrian premier, Count Berchtold, however, was not inclined to reverse his engines. He took advantage of the encouragement given to Austria in the first place, to persist in an irreconcilable attitude toward Servia. The documentary material which has so far been published, shows that Berchtold insinuated to the Russian and British embassies that he was favorable to mediation; meanwhile, he did not answer the proposals to that effect made from Berlin, but in fact stubbornly pursued his stern policy against Servia. In turning a deaf ear to all proposals of mediation at this time, Berchtold gave the militarists at Berlin and Petrograd the control of the situation.
Berchtold had inherited the Balkan policy of Aehrenthal, who had in 1909 carried out the ambition of laying the two Slavic Provinces, Bosnia and Herzegovina, “at the feet of Emperor Francis Joseph at his Sixtieth Jubilee.” Count Berchtold himself was not considered a man of strong initiative; he vacillated and was undecided upon questions of great moment; he, however, displayed great stubbornness on the fatal point that the “honor” of Austria-Hungary did not permit of any mediation with Servia. Count Forgach, who was his chief adviser, hated Russia and Servia intensely, and it is believed that he was very influential in spurring Count Berchtold to aggressive action. Countess Leutrum holds him responsible for the war, “next to Aehrenthal.” The German Ambassador at Vienna, Von Tschirsky, also harbored a great deal of personal resentment against Russia. There would appear to be great reason to doubt whether such efforts as Bethmann-Hollweg made to urge moderation upon Berchtold were strongly emphasized by the personal influence of the German ambassador. Count Czernin states that all of Herr von Tschirsky’s private speeches at this time were attuned to “Now or Never,” and he asserts that the German ambassador declared his opinion to be “that at the present moment Germany was prepared to support our point of view with all her moral and military power, but whether this would prove to be the case in future if we accepted the Serbian rebuff appears to me doubtful.” Count Czernin believes that Tschirsky in particular was firmly persuaded that in the very near future Germany would have to go through a war against France and Russia, and that he considered the year 1914 would be more favorable than a later date. Count Czernin adds: “For this reason, because first of all he did not believe in the fighting capacity of either Russia or France, and secondly, because—and this is a very important point—he was convinced that he could bring the Monarchy into this war, while it appeared doubtful to him that the aged and peace-loving Emperor Francis Joseph would draw the sword for Germany on any other occasion where the action would center less round him, he wished to make use of the Servian episode so as to be sure of Austria-Hungary in the decisive struggle. That was his policy, and not Bethmann’s.... I am persuaded, however, that Tschirsky, in behaving as he did, widely overstretched his prescribed sphere of activity. Isvolsky was not the only one of his kind.”
It is not the purpose of this essay to enter into the difficult question of the specific guilt for bringing on the war of 1914. However, in examining the quality and methods of contemporary diplomacy it is not possible to avoid considering some of the phases of this difficult question. The documents and other evidence which have recently been published, make it appear that Bethmann-Hollweg, when the terrible crisis was actually at hand, honestly attempted to bring about a moderation of the course pursued by Austria. The original belief of the German statesman itself could, however, be accounted for, only on one of two alternative reasons, either because of an unbelievable lack of foresight, or the conviction that a threatening attitude would again, as in 1909, be successful, and that Russia would not dare to follow up her constantly declared interest in the Servian situation. And if worst should come to worst, “well then,” the German leaders seemed to think, “now will be better than later.” No matter what reasonable occasion German statesmen had during the years leading up to the war to fear a hostile policy on the part of neighboring governments, yet their attitude and action at a critical time shows uppermost in the minds of these statesmen and diplomats, a narrowly tactical, primarily bureaucratic, view of the factors involved. There was always present in the background the notion of the necessity of a preventive war. Those who make the actual decision to begin a war without any immediate provocation making it plainly defensive, who begin it because of contingent dangers in the future, no matter how great, take a very serious responsibility. As has been said, the indicative “Germany made war,” is far more apt to leave a powerful impression in the record of history than the subjunctive, “If Germany had not made war then the others would have done so later on.”
The fact that military action against Servia would probably involve Russia and thus set in motion the complete chain of international forces involving Europe in a world war, that is, the futility of the attempt to localize the struggle in Servia, is practically admitted in the statement of the German White Book, issued August 3, 1914, to the following effect: “We were aware of the fact that warlike undertaking against Servia would bring Russia into the war and that therefore our duty as an ally might entangle us likewise. We could, however, not advise our Ally to yield in a manner incompatible with its dignity, nor could we deny our assistance at this difficult moment.”
Austria-Hungary had judged that it would be incompatible with its dignity and honor to submit the Servian matter to arbitration. This illustrates a very characteristic feature of contemporary diplomacy, still adhering to the traditions and prejudices of the past. The term “honor” is one that is not translatable into terms which can be reasoned about. It is in fact a direct descendant of the conception of “honor” during the eighteenth century, in the code of the duelist. Men constantly translate the concepts of their private life into public affairs, and to these men who at Vienna, Petersburg and Berlin, had the destiny of the world in their hands, honor was an indefinable term which could be felt but not discussed. In practice, when applied to human affairs of the utmost importance, it cannot be distinguished from the character of the personal duel, in which the conception of justice was entirely subordinate. When it was said that Austria-Hungary found arbitration “beneath its dignity,” there was speaking the mentality of the Feudal junker who considers himself too noble to appeal to a court against a peasant neighbor, but prefers to send his servants to give him a thrashing. The honor of Austria-Hungary is of such a special kind in the mind of these men that it does not suffer arbitration, but sees in war the only possible satisfaction. In this as in many other points, secret diplomacy is a superstition of the past. As late as May, 1916, the Pester Lloyd, a semi-official paper, declared: “Even if the Russian Government had stopt its mobilization, which it had secretly begun notwithstanding all its hypocritical assurances, nevertheless Austria-Hungary would not have gone to any conference but would have insisted without interference from third parties to settle its affairs with Servia in consonance with the future security of Austria-Hungary.” It would appear plain that the Austrian leaders wanted war, but with Servia alone; trusting that the formidable power of their great ally would again block outside intervention.
Thus when we look at the men in whose hands at this time such a fateful power of decision was placed, we find them, as the great crisis approaches, themselves stunned by the enormity of the forces about to be unchained, seeking still and hoping for some fortunate escape; yet guided in their specific action, not by a general masterly grasp of the entire situation, such as is ordinarily expected of the diplomatic superman, but just by details happening to be most prominent in their mind, such as the incompatibility of arbitration with the honor of Austria, or the personal judgments and inclinations of individual diplomats. As to a correct estimate of how the forces would work out, as to foresight of determining factors, these men showed no unusual ability; in fact, the guess of the intelligent man on the street would have been as safe as their judgment. They stood on too narrow a base; they believed that Italy would remain neutral, that England would not enter the contest, and later that the United States would never engage in hostilities. When we consider the mental attitude of the controllers of foreign affairs in all countries during this long period of secret manipulations, we can find nothing sacrosanct about the deductions and judgments of secret diplomacy; in fact, the lack of contact with public opinion and the deeper forces of life, is everywhere painfully apparent. A Swiss writer has stated: “The World War is the work of a small minority of men in power. Their power rests on the principle of authority, and on the erroneous supposition of wisdom and foresight exceeding the average. The means of maintaining this erroneous supposition is secret diplomacy, which deprives the people of all possibility of insight and control in the most momentous questions. The result of this system is the ruin of Europe.” It is too great a risk to take, to leave in the hands of individual men, no matter how highly gifted personally, the control of such forces and the playing of such chances.
In Russia, the conduct of foreign affairs under the Empire was in the hands of a narrow group of men of special training and experience, but without an element of responsibility to the public at large, except that involved in the general results of diplomatic policy. It is a notable fact that during the nineteenth century only six men held the position of foreign ministers in Russia. This is by far the longest average tenure in any country. Sazonov, who became foreign minister in 1911, further emphasized the esoteric character of foreign policy by definitely divorcing it from home affairs. He did not consult with the Council of Ministers, but only with men of his own chosen environment, a select group of a few collaborators. Russian foreign policy was therefore controlled by a very small clique, representing the traditions of secret diplomacy, and playing at a game of chance, though never so shrewdly, with the lives, fortunes and interests of vast populations. In the Balkan states Russian diplomacy had for a long time applied all its arts in order to establish the predominance of Russian influence. The secret alliance between Servia and Bulgaria was nurtured by Russia evidently with the desire of raising a barrier to the eastward expansion of Austrian influence. In 1912, the fear was entertained that the alliance might spend its main efforts against Turkey instead of Austria. At this time a loan was arranged for King Ferdinand of Bulgaria, the funds for which were advanced by the Czar. The Russian Foreign Office was fully informed concerning the Balkan alliance, which commenced the war in 1912 with Russian assent and encouragement. What direction the thoughts of Russian diplomats were taking, is apparent from a remark of Sazonov, Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs, to the Servian Minister, on April 29, 1913, reported by the latter as follows:
“Again Sazonov told me that we must work for the future because we would acquire a great deal of territory from Austria. I replied that we would gladly give Bulgaria Monastir (Bitollia) if we could acquire Bosnia and other territory of Austria.”
A Belgian diplomat, in a report written from Berlin in 1913, says that notwithstanding the great Russian influence in the Balkans, Russian diplomacy had vacillated a great deal there since the beginning of the Balkan war; he goes on to say: “In a moment of confidence the French ambassador spoke particularly concerning the influence which M. Isvolsky has maintained, who has a personal desire of revenge against Austria-Hungary, and takes great pains to spoil the game whenever there is any appearance of Austrian success.” (Baron Beyens to the Belgian Minister for Foreign Affairs, March 18, 1913.)