by Peter Hart
France was the most committed adversary of Germany, still smarting from her defeat in the Franco-Prussian War and bitterly resenting the loss of the province of Alsace-Lorraine. Recently defeated countries are rarely content at their lot and internecine conflicts thrived in the Third Republic established after the fall of Napoleon III in 1870. There was a whole variety of divisive issues, including the possible re-establishment of the monarchy, the role of religion in society and the domination of left- or right-wing political viewpoints. Despite strong pressures a system of parliamentary democracy survived with a Chamber of Deputies, a Senate and a President acting as the head of state. Despite all the internal political turmoil, France still yearned to maintain her position as a strong imperial power. Unsurprisingly, the one area of near-total national consensus was over the necessity to rebuild the Army for the challenges ahead, although even there political or religious affiliations could make, or break, an officer’s career.
The French’s determination to exact revenge was demonstrated by their vigorous attempts to match German military strength. In 1870 France had faced the might of Prussia alone and had been found wanting. After this chastening experience she sought the active acquisition and military support of allies wherever they could be found. Germany’s failure to renew the Reinsurance Treaty with Russia gave France a chance to move into the vacuum and the Franco-Russian Alliance was duly signed in 1892. Although this alliance was essentially defensive in its nature, guaranteeing mutual support in the event of an attack by Germany, the military negotiations that ensued emphasised the importance of securing an early concentration of forces with the express aim of committing Germany to a simultaneous war on two frontiers: east and west. This scenario would form the defining narrative of the first years of the Great War.
France did, however, have a second powerful motivating force in determining her foreign policy. This was an unwavering desire to maintain and expand her large global empire. The French had kept a few scattered dominions after 1815, but in the nineteenth century had begun a major thrust into North Africa with the acquisition or control established over Algeria and Tunisia, before expanding with considerable effect into northern, western, and central Africa, seeking a band of possessions right across the continent. France also had her beady eye on the longer-term future of both Syria and the Lebanon in the Middle East, and had been assiduously acquiring numerous territories in China and the Far East. It is worth reflecting, then, that France was still an aggressive colonial power; Germany was not the only country seeking its place in the sun.
Russia was the most enigmatic of the Great Powers. Possessed of staggering potential, she remained a fitfully dozing giant. Her land mass was enormous, reaching across great swathes of Europe and Asia, while her armies seemed inexhaustible, fuelled by a population of some 170 million. Yet Russia was a country only slowly feeling its way into the twentieth century. Although there had been some acceleration in her slow industrialisation, she was still by no means a modern state and was deeply reliant on the financial assistance offered by France to develop her infrastructure.
Yet Russia was by no means just a tool of the French and had her own distinct territorial and geo-political ambitions. Firstly, she had an interest in propagating the nebulous idea of Pan-Slavism, which propounded the cultural and political unity of all Slavs – a concept rendered problematic by the spirited objections and refusal to co-operate of several of the existing Slavic states and revolutionary movements. Such Slavs saw their future as independent countries, not as subservient elements in the Russian Empire. However, Russia had developed strong links with Serbia, which had emerged from the suzerainty of the Ottoman Empire to become internationally recognised at the Congress of Berlin in 1878; although at the same time the disputed area of Bosnia, where the population was also predominantly of Serbian Slav origin, was assigned to the control of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. There would be no formal alliance between Russia and Serbia, but Russia was determined – where possible – to protect the small Serbian state from her aggressive neighbours, whether they be Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria (a Slavic country less enamoured with Russia) or the fading Ottoman Empire. On the other hand, Russia’s own ambitions in the region precluded too great an expansion of Serbia. Such criss-crossing motivations were symptomatic of the murky world of Balkan politics.
A second enduring Russian foreign policy ambition, better described as an obsession, lay in securing control of the exit from the Black Sea, via the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles, to the Mediterranean; an aim that ultimately would require the conquest of Constantinople and the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire. Several wars had already been triggered by this aggressive intent, most notably the Crimean War of 1854–6 and the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–8. The Russian balance of trade, particularly the bulk export of grain, was dependent on its safe passage through the Dardanelles and government ministers were all too conscious that any closure of the Straits would cause severe economic damage. Russia was naturally extremely concerned at any threatened augmentation of Turkish naval strength in the Black Sea. But there was also a jealous determination to prevent any other country – whoever it might be – from securing control of the Straits. Although if it was not to be Russia herself, then better the Turks than some more virile challenger such as Bulgaria or Greece.
Finally, Russia had also sought to spread out to the east, expanding beyond Central Asia, pressing into Siberia and eventually seeking a port to provide access to the Pacific Ocean. These ambitions led Russia into conflict with Japan, a hitherto little considered nation which had successfully acquired many of the trappings of a modern nation state. In the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–5, the Russians had been badly beaten and forced into a humiliating climbdown. This, however, was only a temporary halt to the Russian programme of imperial expansion across borders not shared with a fellow Great Power. In a great swathe stretching from Manchuria, Mongolia and Turkestan, through Afghanistan to Persia and Anatolia, the Russians were pushing and probing, seeking undue influence and sending in settlers and political agents with the intent of destabilising the local regimes.
Yet while Russia was growing rapidly, there were severe internal pressures caused by her anachronistic system of government: an autocracy ruled over by Tsar Nicholas II since 1894. The tensions lay between reactionary conservatives who wanted to preserve the status quo, liberals who were working towards social reform presided over by a more restrained constitutional monarchy, and revolutionaries of all complexions who wanted to tear down the state and bring power to various factions of the people. The social unrest boiled over in a widespread revolution in 1905. Amidst a plethora of strikes and mutinies, workers’ councils were established in major centres of population. In the end Nicholas II was forced to concede with a degree of political reform, creating a central legislative body in the Duma with some voting rights, thus taking the first tentative steps on the road to a constitutional monarchy. The various opposition factions were divided in their response between those who were satisfied for the moment and those for whom it was not enough. This disunity allowed the state to re-establish control, but there was no doubt as to the underlying threat to the established order.
Thus Russia was plagued by the spectre of revolution, dragged down by her systematic internal problems and in desperate need of modernisation. The Russo-Japanese War had demonstrated that quantity was not enough, there had to be quality too. The Russians needed a well-trained army equipped with modern weapons, a strong naval presence on every coast and a total reorganisation of the logistical sinews of war. Whether or not this required industrialisation of the economy and a further democratisation of the state would be a moot point. It was clear, however, that, given time, Russia would be a valuable ally to France.
The enmity of both France and Russia was a cross for Germany to bear. But worse was to come, as the Kaiser’s global ambitions led to disagreements with the leading colonial power. The British Empire was huge and slightly ramshackle, but by n
o means a spent force. A colonial empire founded on conquest and naked commercial exploitation, it truly spanned the globe and ruled a quarter of the world’s population. Britain was determined not only to maintain her global position but also to expand – particularly in Egypt, Mesopotamia and Persia. Colonial friction was exacerbated when Germany began to construct a fleet plainly intended to challenge the Royal Navy in its undisputed control of the oceans. The British had secured that domination by means of maintaining a fleet that was capable of defeating the next two strongest navies – the strategic benefits of which meant that the Empire could be defended by a relatively small professional army in sharp contrast to the massive conscript-centred armies required by continental powers. Sentimentalists will often aver that Britain was a country at peace with itself before the Great War; in fact, it was a society under severe stress. In the colonies, nationalism was a potent threat, with issues of self-governance and independence stirring all over the Empire. Closer to home, Home Rule for Ireland dramatically polarised opinion, not just in Ireland but also in the Army required to enforce any punitive measures. The home of the Industrial Revolution was also suffering from a legacy of ageing factories, terrible working conditions, problematic labour relations and a declining industrial base. Britain’s sharply delineated class system promoted resentment at the privileges exercised by the few to the manifold disadvantage of the majority, which was reflected in the rise of socialist parties and the trades union movement. Vigorous suffragette campaigns marked the desire of women for emancipation and equal political rights with men.
Plagued by her own problems, Britain would have preferred to remain on the sidelines of any European disputes. But this was not possible. Not only was the supremacy of the Royal Navy under threat from the German Navy, but there was no doubt that if Germany beat France and Russia then she would achieve total control of Europe. This was contrary to the prime maxim of British foreign policy: always to seek a balance between the Great Powers. France sensed the opportunity and assiduously courted her former enemy. In the absence of conciliatory moves from Germany and tormented by the naval threat, Britain was pushed towards France. There was still suspicion there – indeed, in the early stages neither side was a faithful suitor – but they had a common enemy in Germany. In April 1904 the Anglo-French Entente was signed, which cleared the decks of existing colonial disagreements and gradually mutated into the Entente Cordiale as the two countries began to co-ordinate their naval and military arrangements in a manner which, while not binding, clearly imposed a moral requirement on the British to intervene on the French’s behalf in the event of war triggered by German aggression.
A rapprochement with Russia was not such an easy matter. Britain and Russia had been competing for power across Central Asia in the strategic rivalry famously depicted by Kipling as ‘The Great Game’, with the British long concerned over a latent Russian threat to India. Much of the tension emanated from the struggle to control Afghanistan, variously seen as a buffer zone or staging post, depending on perspective. There were also tensions over the mutual jockeying for position in China. But with the threat of Germany much more immediate and far closer to home, such differences had to be laid aside, with the result that the Anglo-Russian Convention was signed in 1907. This defined borders and areas of interest in a manner tolerable to both sides, but more importantly marked the de facto birth of the Triple Entente of France, Russia and Britain. This was a total disaster for Germany. It was evident that, since the departure of Bismarck, the German state had developed a disturbing knack of making powerful enemies.
Germany did, however, have one faithful ally: Austria-Hungary. Unfortunately, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was a rather ancient institution that had grown up over hundreds of years of strife and miscellaneous dynastic marriage settlements. The latest incarnation was the Dual Monarchy created by an 1867 agreement whereby the Austrian Empire and the neighbouring Hungarian Kingdom would share the same monarch – Emperor Franz Josef I, who had ruled the Austrian Empire since 1848 and who also became King of Hungary. More a historical curiosity than a vibrant modern nation state, the Empire was a mosaic of different nationalities in which indigenous Austrians and Hungarians were comfortably outnumbered by other ethnic groups swept up into the Empire over the years. The political system was complex, with separate Austrian and Hungarian parliaments and governments claiming a variety of powers, while Emperor Franz Josef and his ministers exercised control of foreign policy and the armed forces. Inefficiency was rife and the national parliaments were, not unnaturally, unwilling to finance anything but the bare minimum of military expenditure for an army which they did not themselves control. But the biggest problem was the spectre of Pan-Slav nationalism which so enthused the Russians. There was a widespread yearning among the Slavs within the Austro-Hungarian Empire for separatism and unification, although in truth few among them could agree as to what this was or how it was to be achieved This craving was given a powerful external stimulus by Serbia, which both overtly and covertly supported Slavic groupings within the Empire. Serbia was increasingly symptomatic of everything that grated on Austro-Hungarian sensibilities.
Germany’s other ally in the Central Powers was Italy, but this was a far more dubious relationship. Italy was made up of formerly independent states that had been only been lately unified during the nineteenth century from the springboard provided by the north-western province of Piedmont. Blocked from further expansion by France and Austria-Hungary on the European mainland, Italy looked to North Africa to establish colonies, but had been considerably frustrated by competition with France in the same region, as evinced in the French annexation of Tunisia in 1881. Desperate for allies to guarantee safety in a dangerous world, Italy had joined the Triple Alliance in 1882. Yet they were always unlikely bedfellows for Italy had fought several wars against the Austro-Hungarian Empire during her tortuous process of unification and there remained serious outstanding border disputes relating to the Austrian occupation of the Trentino, Istria and Trieste regions. It was clear that an alliance with Austria could never really be accepted by the Italian people and few believed that their government would honour the treaty, even if Germany or Austria-Hungary were the innocent victims of an unprovoked assault by France or Russia. In essence, this was a one-way alliance.
Stuck on the sidelines of Europe was Turkey, the remnants of the Ottoman Empire. The Turks shared many of the problems of their old adversaries of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Only half the population was indigenous Turks and the rest were a conglomeration of many nationalities including Slavs, Greeks and Arabs, all further cross-cut with a variety of religious differences. Turkey had lost most of her European territories as Greece, Rumania, Serbia, Montenegro and Bulgaria had all gained their independence. There was also the long-standing threat from Russia to consider. Turkey seemed surrounded by enemies while the pressures of nationalism gnawed away at her vitals. The major European powers hovered in the wings, demanding ever-more concessions and ‘areas of interest’, which promised a comprehensive dismemberment in the near future. The Turks had to face all these threats hamstrung by an agricultural economy, minimal heavy industries, little or no exploitation of natural resources and crippled by a huge national debt. The country was ruled by the ‘Young Turks’, who had taken partial power in 1908. Their goal was modernisation, but they did not have the means to achieve it – outside assistance only came with strings attached that threatened a further spiral of decline. Although the British professed friendship to Turkey and had sent a Naval Mission, it was the Germans who seemed most willing to assist – or take advantage of – the Turks. Their Military Mission was deeply embedded in the Turkish Army, while the Berlin to Baghdad railway was an ambitious project with which they sought to secure and exploit new commercial spheres of influence for German industry. Turkey was in a dangerous position and it was difficult to see how war could benefit a country that was already near-bankrupt. Certainly Turkey could not afford to be on the losing side: that
would surely mark the final dissolution of her tottering Empire
As Europe slowly evolved into two gigantic armed camps, the years leading up to war were marked by an upsurge in the arms race which came to dominate the economies of the Great Powers. Each had their own gigantic arms manufacturers churning out weapons of war at an unprecedented rate. Each step forward in the fields of small arms, machine guns or artillery was mimicked, countered, then trumped by the other powers. Constant experimentation was going on to develop the best, the most reliable, the most deadly weapons possible. Already they were looking to aircraft and airships as future weapons of war, while at sea there was steady progress in the development of submarines. Nobody could afford to be left behind; but it wasn’t just about weapons. Huge conscript armies had to be raised, fed and clothed, armed, accommodated in barracks, trained and regularly exercised in field manoeuvres, None of this was cheap. The arms race threatened to consume national budgets at an unprecedented rate.
Planning for the unthinkable
As the Central Powers and Triple Alliance became more deeply established competing entities, so their respective military establishments constantly updated their plans for war. That, after all, was their function: they could not allow themselves to be taken by surprise by the vagaries of international politics. The incompetence of German diplomacy following the departure of Bismarck caused severe problems for the German Army. Several of its more far-sighted officers had already been deeply disturbed by its inability to finish off France after initial crushing victories over the French Army had culminated in the humiliating capture of Emperor Napoleon III in September 1870. Instead, a radical French provisional government had rejected German peace terms outright and launched a ‘people’s war’ using mass conscription to raise a ‘new’ army that almost doubled the numerical strength of the French Army. Such a rapid expansion of an army was a fantastically difficult undertaking, as suitably trained officers and NCOs were in scarce supply and, while the new recruits may have exuded potential, they were not in any real sense soldiers. They also lacked the heavier weaponry and tools of their trade, in particular artillery. Yet the Germans had found this new conscript army very difficult to deal with and it had taken them several months to achieve a final victory, against a background of the pinpricks of swarms of francs-tireurs harassing their lines of communications.
