And the Kaiser abdicates: The German Revolution November 1918-August 1919

by S. Miles Bouton

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.