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Louis B. Boudin

Socialism and War

(1914)

IV.

The Immediate Causes of the War and the Stakes Involved.

In the preceding two lectures I endeavored to show that the present war was the result of general causes, causes rooted deeply in the latest phase of capitalist economy and the moral and intellectual ideas produced thereby. In my last lecture, in discussing the ideologic causes of the war, I stated, however, that Germany was leading the rest of the so-called civilized world in the development of this modern Imperialistic— that is, warlike— philosophy or creed, and leading far in advance of its competitors. It is this leadership in a general movement that has made Germany the aggressor in this war. Of the fact of German aggression in this war, there can be no doubt. In fact, it is hardly denied. Or rather, the denials, if any, are of a purely formal character, and do not touch the substance of the issue. But it would be a mistake to think, as some evidently do, that Germany fell on peaceful Europe like a hungry wolf on a flock of sheep. Without any desire to minimize the guilt of Germany— and I may say right here that in my opinion the guilt of Germany cries out to heaven— there is no denying the fact that the other civilized nations share in her guilt. Germany does not stand in this respect in a class by herself, but is merely “a leader of men”, primus inter pares.

And there is a reason for this leadership. But this reason has absolutely nothing to do with any racial or national characteristics of the German people. It might seem to be “just retribution” that Germany’s undoubted guilt as the aggressor in this terrible war should be put to the credit of the German national character, in accordance with those race-theories which she herself has so assiduously been developing for a generation past. But however “poetic” such justice might be, it would not be historic justice— which is the only justice. The fact is that Germany’s leadership in Imperialism, and her consequent aggression in this war, is due to the same economic factor which has produced the general phenomenon of which it is part and parcel. The most striking fact in the history of our own times is undoubtedly the truly marvelous economic development of Germany. But when you analyze the economic development of Germany into its constituent elements, you will find that she excels particularly in those industries which have given our era its warlike character.

Of course, this war, like all great historic occurrences, is the result of a concurrence of many contributing causes. But I do not hesitate to say that the most important cause— that cause which gives it its character and which may therefore be regarded, speaking generally, as the true cause of the war— is the fact that since the beginning of this century Germany has become the largest producer of iron and steel in the world; and that she has been making such rapid strides in that particular industry that in 1910 she produced twice as much iron and steel as England, her nearest competitor. Just look at the table showing the production of iron and steel by the leading countries of the world in that particular field, outside of the United States, since 1850. It is illuminating:

You will notice that in 1850 Germany produced only about 15 per cent., considerably less than one-sixth of the amount of iron and steel then produced by England. In half a century Germany increased her production of iron and steel to such an extent that she ran England a neck-and-neck race for the world-championship in that line of production. And only twelve years later her production of iron and steel was fully twice that of England. And those of you who have followed the development of international relations during the last quarter-century will undoubtedly have noticed that the crucial point in the change from a peaceful to a warlike attitude came towards the end of the last century; that is about the time when Germany was catching up with England in the production of iron and steel. Since then Germany has been far in advance of the rest of the world in the production of iron and steel, and simultaneously the war-spirit which has been developing throughout the world has been making particularly rapid strides in Germany.

But in order that you may not get a one-sided view of this war, I intend to go into some detail as to its immediate causes; touching, incidentally, upon some contributing causes to which I previously alluded. And first of all, it is well to remember that the present European conflict is really two wars rolled into one. We all know that there are two theatres of war, an eastern and a western one, with Germany-Austria between them. But this division of the conflict is not merely geographical; it is also historical. It is not merely that there are two fields of operations, but actually two separate wars, each having its own separate cause and its own character, historically considered. The war of Russia and Servia against Austria and Germany in the East belongs to an entirely different historical epoch, when considered from the point of view of the development of capitalism, than the war of Germany against France and England in the West. And so it happens that Germany is not only the geographical connecting link between the two theatres of the war, but also the historical connecting link between the two wars and their different characters.

You will doubtless recall what I said about the two warlike epochs of capitalism, separated by an era of peace. Now, the two wars being waged in Europe may be distinguished, generally speaking, by a reference to the characteristics of the wars of those two epochs of capitalism. The war now being waged in the east of Europe belongs to the first warlike period of capitalism, the purely Nationalistic period, at least as far as Germany’s opponents are concerned; while the war waging on the western war-theatre belongs to the second, Imperialistic, period of capitalist development.

The principle characteristic of the wars of the first historical epoch here in question, is, as I have already stated, that it is part of an attempt to get to the sea,— the march to the sea, as I called it. Now, most European countries reached the sea early. Those are the countries in which the modern national states were rounded out early, and which attained very early a comparatively high degree of commercial or industrial development. Such were England, Spain, France. These are countries either entirely surrounded by sea, or having natural boundaries on the landside, in the shape of huge mountain chains, separating them from their neighbors. But there was the great plain of central and eastern Europe, inhabited by Germanic and Slavonic tribes, with admixtures of such foreign elements as the Hungarians, and Finns, and Turks, wherein there were no mountain chains to delimit the places of habitation of the different races and to give each a well-defined course towards the sea. The result was great confusion. A sort of modern migration of the nations. A migration in which “the nations” in the primary sense, that is the peoples themselves, did not, indeed, move about very much, but in which “the nations” in the political sense did considerable stretching and moving of their limbs in an effort to reach the sea.

This was particularly true of Russia, which was originally entirely cut off from the sea. A primitive pastoral or agricultural country can very well be satisfied to remain an entirely inland state. Not so a country which has started on the road of commercial and industrial development, or one which intends to do so. The entire history of Russia during the past two hundred years is therefore nothing but one great struggle to get to the sea. It was Peter the Great who turned Russia’s face towards the West and Capitalism— or at least he symbolizes that turning point in Russian history— and it was the same Peter the Great who started Russia definitely on her march to the sea. She is still on that march; for she has had a long road to travel, and many battles to fight before she could get there. She is therefore still in the first warlike period of capitalism, trying to establish herself as a rounded out, self-sufficient economic unit with free access to the outside world for an exchange of products. And until she gets there her economic development along capitalistic lines will be thwarted and her growth stunted, so that no matter what her extent of territory and military power, she will remain virtually a colony of her western neighbors, an object of economic exploitation.

Now, when Peter the Great decided to start Russia on the road of capitalistic development he cast about him for an opening into the wide world for his “lines of communication”, and he saw the Caspian and the Black Seas to the South and the Baltic to the North. He started on the move in both directions; and his successors have kept to the warpath ever since, with the result that Russia now completely controls the Caspian, controls a very large part of the Black Sea, and has a firm footing on the Baltic. But the Caspian is nothing but a big inland lake. It is important for some parts of the Asiatic trade; but it does not lead into the wide open world. The same is true of the Black and Baltic Seas. With this all-important modification, however: while they are both practically inland seas, each has an outlet into the open sea; from the Baltic there is a road leading into the North Sea, while from the Black Sea there is a passage into the Mediterranean. But both of those avenues into the open sea are controlled by others: the road from the Baltic is practically-controlled by Germany; while the door which leads from the Black Sea into the Mediterranean is kept shut tight by the Turk, who guards, like Cerberus of old, the Bosporus and the Dardanelles, so that Russia may not get through.

Of late you have been told a good deal about Russia’s ardent and long-cherished ambition to possess Constantinople. And you have no doubt been told a great deal about the reasons for it: its being the imperial city of the Byzantine Emperors, to whose Empire the Russian Czars are supposed to have succeeded; and the mother-city of the Greek Catholic Church, the official Russian Church, of which the Czar is the official head; of the religious traditions connected with St. Sophia; and a lot of similar stuff. All of which is good-enough filigree; the substance which it covers being, that Constantinople is the lock on the door opening from the Black Sea into the Mediterranean, and the great Ocean beyond. For the possession of this lock, Russia has fought a century-long fight with the Turk, a fight that cannot cease until the lock is in her possession or until it is removed and the door left open. The peculiar thing about the struggle for Constantinople is that Russia would have been in possession of that historic city long ago, the Turk being entirely too inadequate as a guard of this all-important point, if it were not for the fact that other and more powerful opponents of Russia kept the “Sick Man of Europe” in his place, in order to keep Russia out.

Considerable has been written by those who deal in destinies, about Russia’s alleged “destiny” in the Far East, that is, Eastern Asia. These wiseacres were particularly loquacious immediately before the Russo-Japanese War, when it seemed as if Russia had all but forgotten about the Near East (which, by the way, means the West to Russia), to embark upon great schemes in the Far East. According to these dispensers of “destinies” Russia was really an Asiatic State, and her future lay in her Eastern interests. In short, the “destiny” of the Russian people required them to face East.

The truth is that Russia’s policy in Asia— aside from the general characteristic of acquisitiveness, which she shares with all other capitalistic countries in her stage of development— has been dictated by her general desire to get to the sea, as modified by the policy of her western neighbors to keep the western passages barred before her. Finding the way into the North Sea and into the Mediterranean barred, the Russian statesmen have hit upon the idea of reaching the Ocean by pushing eastward instead of westward. Russia has attempted to do what Columbus set out to do, only reversing the direction: Columbus wanted to reach the East by sailing west; while Russia wanted to reach the West by going east. Columbus would have got there had he not found America lying in his way. Columbus was obliged to turn back; the way to the East had to be found by sailing south; and only now, after four hundred years has Columbus’ original design been accomplished through the cutting of the Panama Canal. Russia would have accomplished her purpose had she not found the Jap lying in her way. Japan barred Russia’s way as effectively as did America that of Columbus. The Russo-Japanese War put an end, for the time being at least, to Russia’s attempts to get to the West by way of the East.

This reopened and made acute the Near Eastern— that is, the Balkan— question. Having been foiled in the East, Russia was bound to try the West again; steering, like Columbus’s successors, a southern course. The Balkan question has two aspects: the relation of the Christian population of the Balkan Peninsula to their former overlord, the Turk, and the conflicts between the different groups into which this population is broken up, on the one hand; and, on the other, the relation between Russia and Austria, both of whom want to fish in troubled waters. Latterly, the latter aspects of the Balkan question have become complicated by Germany’s design upon the Balkan Peninsula as part of her imperialistic or Pan-Germanistic schemes.

In order to understand the different interests and antagonisms which enter into the Balkan question, as well as their bearing on the larger political interests and antagonisms engendered by Modern Imperialism, it will repay us to examine the geographical and economico-historical bearings of the Balkans a little more in detail.

A glance at the map will show that in some respects the Balkan peninsula resembles the Spanish peninsula. Each forms by its southern extremity a passage-way into the Mediterranean Sea, separating Europe from other parts of the world. The Strait of Gibraltar, which forms the gateway from the Western Ocean into the Mediterranean Sea separates Europe from Africa; while the Bosporus and Dardanelles, forming the passage-way from the Black Sea into the Mediterranean, divide Europe from Asia. The importance of the Strait of Gibraltar from a commercial, and therefore, from a strategic point of view is universally recognized as of the first magnitude. The Bosporus and Dardanelles may not be quite as important in one way, as they do not connect with the ocean. But in other ways their importance may even surpass that of Gibraltar.

In the first place the Strait of Gibraltar is not easily controlled. Notwithstanding the natural strength of Gibraltar, no power could effectually control the Strait by land fortifications alone, against a strong naval power; while the Bosporus and the Dardanelles can be controlled against the greatest odds, owing to the extreme narrowness of these channels. The Bosporus is, in this respect, the most remarkable channel in the world. In its narrowest part it is hardly half a mile wide. The Dardanelles channel is not much wider. And the two together, with the Sea of Marmara between them, permit of such a combination of land and sea defenses as to make it absolutely impregnable under ordinary circumstances. But the Bosporus is even more important for peaceful pursuits than as a military stronghold. The Strait of Gibraltar separates Europe from Africa, and separates them most effectively. This gulf cannot possibly be bridged. At least not in the present state of science. But the Bosporus can be bridged as easily as any ordinary river or rivulet, and trains can be sent across it from Europe to Asia without any difficulty whatsoever. While it forms a passage-way uniting the East with the West by water, it also forms a passage-way running North and South on land uniting Europe with Asia in a most effective and most convenient manner.

Another important feature of Balkan geography must be noted. Unlike its Western counterpart, the Balkan peninsula turns its widest side towards the continent, and has no mountain-range frontier forming a barrier between itself and the continent, such as the Pyrenees. On the other hand, it is itself broken up into several divisions by mountain-chains running across it. The result was that while the Balkan Peninsula always formed one of the most coveted corners of the earth, it was naturally in a very unfavorable position for the formation of a big Balkan Nation. To this should be added, that about the time when the development of capitalism was forming strong consolidated nations in the west of Europe, the Balkan Peninsula was the principal seat of power of the Turkish invader of Europe, lying prostrate in his iron grasp for several centuries.

We are often told that the Balkans are inhabited by a mixture of nations forming no racial unit, thus accounting for the continued strife among the different elements of the population of that peninsula. To my mind that is merely another way of saying that the Balkan Peninsula is still in a primitive stage of development. A close examination into historical facts would probably show that the ethnic elements on the Balkan Peninsula are not more diversified than those which went into the composition of many a great nation which is now looked upon as a racial and national unit. The “diversity of races” on the Balkan Peninsula is not an ethnographical, but a historico-geographical fact. Whether the geographical or the purely historical element has contributed more to this result is now hard to tell. But it may be asserted without fear of contradiction that the historic process of economic development has surmounted greater heights than the Balkan Mountains, and that these mountain ranges cannot stand permanently in the way of the organization of one Balkan Nation, if the historico-economical process should favor the formation of such an entity.

For the present, the Balkan territory is broken up into a group of struggling, wriggling nationalities, with Turkey in possession of its southern base and in control of the all-important Bosporus-Dardanelles passage. This gives color and direction to the Balkan Question. The “Question” is two-fold: On the one hand it is the question of “How long shall the Unspeakable Turk be permitted to remain in Europe?” And on the other it reads: “Who shall inherit the Kingdom of Turkey in Europe when the Turk shall have been driven therefrom?” And the latter question has itself a double aspect. It may mean: How shall the territory of the Balkan Peninsula be divided among the different “nationalities” now inhabiting it? And it may also mean: What outside Power shall succeed to the political influence over the Balkans which was once the Turk’s?

Of the great European Powers there are two that come into consideration directly in connection with the last query: Russia and Austria. Both of these Empires abut in territory on the Balkan Peninsula, and they have for a long time been in almost continual struggle for influence therein.

Russia’s interest in the Balkans is plain. It is part of her March to the Sea. She needs Constantinople, and has been trying to get it for more than two centuries. But she couldn’t get there except by marching her armies south through the Peninsula, expelling the Turk from Europe on the way. Politically this has assumed the form of a policy of “liberation” towards the Balkan Slavs. Russia asserted a right and duty of protecting her “younger brothers”, the Southern Slavs, against oppression by other nations, and of “liberating” them from the “foreign yoke” whenever that was deemed necessary by her to save them from oppression. And she has “liberated” the Balkan Slavs to a very large extent. The existence of the present kingdoms of Roumania, Bulgaria, Servia, and Montenegro, is largely due to her efforts. But as the “liberation” of the Slavs was merely a means to an end, and that end— the possession of Constantinople— has not been achieved, she could not rest on her “liberation” laurels and leave the Balkans to the Balkan nations. In fact, this end made Russia’s work of “liberation” in the Balkans of a peculiar kind. She wanted the Balkan Slavs freed from the Turk, but she did not want them united and strong. A strong Balkan nation or federation of nations might form just as strong an obstacle to her acquisition of Constantinople as the Turk himself,— or even a stronger. For Turkey is in a process of decay, while a united Balkan nation would be likely to constantly grow in power.

In this effort to keep the Balkan Nations weak and dependent on their neighbors, Russia had the full sympathy and co-operation of her great rival on the Peninsula, Austria-Hungary. The Dual Empire has reached the sea; but her position on the sea is a very precarious one. Her two sea-ports, Trieste and Fiume, are both practically Italian cities, and her loss of both may be only a question of time. But even with both of these ports, she considers her position on the sea unfavorable so long as she is confined to the upper corner of the Adriatic, and other powers are in control of the outlet from the Adriatic into the Mediterranean. She has therefore been casting very longing glances upon the western coast line of the Balkan Peninsula, as well as upon the northern coast-line of the Aegean.

In addition to this, and quite independent of her appetite for additional coast line, Austria is very anxious that the western coast line of the Balkan Peninsula should not fall to Servia, who is very anxious to get it, and to whom it would naturally belong if the Balkan nations were permitted to develop independently. As Servia is situated to-day, without an outlet on the sea, she is to all intents and purposes an Austrian colony, being economically subject to Austria, through whose territory alone her exports can reach the outside world. This is particularly unfortunate for Servia, because her exports come in direct competition with the exports of the Hungarian agrarians, and the Austro-Hungarian tariff policy is naturally shaped so as to put her at a disadvantage. The impulse to march to the sea which is ever-present in countries with a capitalistic development is, therefore, particularly keen in Servia just now. But Austria, naturally, does not care to lose such an object of trade exploitation as Servia in her present condition presents to her.

There are, also, purely political reasons why Austria does not want Servia to come into possession of the western coast line of the Balkan Peninsula, or of any part of it. Servia with an outlet to the sea means a strong and prosperous Servia. Such a Servia would naturally present a centre of attraction to the many millions of Serbs dwelling within the Dual Empire, and to all the other Slavs who are suffering under Magyar domination in the Hungarian part of the Empire. This might tend to break up the entire Empire. For the great love which the Magyars now bear the Dual Empire— in such striking contrast to their separatist tendencies of two generations ago— is due entirely to the fact that the Empire permits them to keep their Slav population under subjection. Hence Austria’s general policy of keeping the Balkan nations from forming an independent confederation strong enough to expel the Turk and withstand all outside influences.

The result of this sympathetic bond of common interest between Russia and Austria to keep the Balkan nations from controlling the Balkan country has been the seething cauldron of jealousies, animosities, and armed conflicts which make up the recent history of the Balkan Peninsula. Each of these two powers has sought by intrigue to accomplish the double purpose of keeping the Balkan peoples disunited, and of increasing her own influence at the expense of the other, so as to be in direct line of succession to the Turk, when “The Sick Man of Europe” finally breathes his last.

Such was the Balkan situation when Germany discovered that she, too, had an interest in that part of Europe. But here we must pause a little to examine Germany’s situation generally. Germany occupies a very anomalous position among the great national states. The Germans have not yet accomplished the task which the other great peoples of Europe have accomplished— that of forming a national state. The German Empire is not such a state. On the one hand it includes many elements that are not German, and on the other hand is does not include many important portions of Germany proper. Let me illustrate. If you go to any part of France you may be sure that French is spoken there. The same is true of England. But not of Germany: There are many parts of Germany where the German language is a foreign tongue, and where the population must be coerced into speaking it against their will. Again, if you want to look for the centre of English culture, you will naturally look to London, and for the centre of French culture to Paris. But if you want to look for the centre of German culture you might look either to Berlin or to Vienna, although the latter is not part of official Germany. And the fact that there may be large centres of English culture outside of England proper— using “England” here as synonymous with the United Kingdom— does not alter the situation. New York or Boston might be centres of English culture. But their position is utterly different from that of Vienna. They are offshoots of the old trunk; parts of a colony in the Greek sense of the word. A child begotten of the mother-country, but big enough to lead an independent existence, and actually leading an independent existence notwithstanding sameness of language and affinity of culture. Not so with Vienna. It is not an offshoot of Germany. It is not part of a German country at all. It is the capital of an Empire mostly Slav and predominantly non-German. This incongruity of Vienna being non-German is enhanced by the fact that it is nothing else. It is not “Austrian” in the national sense— as Boston is American, for instance, notwithstanding its English speech— because there is no such nationality, Austria being merely a politico-geographical designation. The truth is that from a national point of view Germany is not yet [a nation].

The same is true of Germany when viewed from an economic point of view. It is true that Germany has reached the sea. But it has reached it only partly. A glance at the map will show that from any national-economic point of view Holland belongs with Germany, and the Dutch sea-coast is the natural western boundary of the German Empire; and the same is true to some extent at least of Belgium.

Germany is, therefore, still in the first warlike period of capitalism,— the formative period, the period when great national states are forming by absorbing all kindred groups and marching to the sea. As such it should be Germany’s natural and legitimate ambition to include German-Austria within her boundaries; and it may be equally natural for her, though not as legitimate, to desire to absorb Holland too and part of Belgium, and to make them part of the German Empire. And there is no doubt that until recently such was the ambition of all good German patriots.

A united Germany was the ideal, also, of all revolutionary and radical Germans. It is well-known that the best men in Germany considered Bismarck’s policy, which excluded German-Austria from the German Empire, little short of criminal; and they fervently hoped for the day when this crime would be atoned for by the organization of a German Republic which should include all German lands. Those who had an eye more to the economic than the cultural questions involved, undoubtedly hoped that Holland, which is racially near kin to the people of Germany, would be glad to come in of her own free will in such an efficient and highly cultural state as a United German Republic would undoubtedly be. The organization of such a state pre-supposes, of course, the break-up of the Austrian Empire. But what good German cared for the existence of that Empire,— that “political monstrosity’’, that crazy-quilt of a state, the creation of outworn political ideas, political intrigue, and the political crimes of a by-gone age?

Then came the new spirit,— the spirit of the Era of Imperialism, and all this changed. The dream of a United Germany was forgotten before it was realized. And Germans suddenly discovered that they had a vital interest in the continued existence of the Austrian Empire which makes a United Germany impossible. As is frequently the case with countries which came late into the whirlpool of capitalistic development, Germany’s economic development during the last half-century or so has been proceeding in hot-house fashion. With the result that the different periods of capitalist development— which in older countries have lasted through many generations, and therefore have had a chance fully to develop their special characteristics— here crowd one another, so that these characteristics become blurred and obliterated or do not develop at all. So the textile-peace period has been “skipped” by Germany, and she walked into the Imperialistic era before she was out of the first, the formative, warlike era of Capitalism. And the place of honor which United Germany for a while occupied in German political thought is now occupied by Pan-Germanism.

Pan-Germanism is the political expression of Germany’s economic aspirations. And here it is well to note that the expression is somewhat misleading. It does not mean what its etymology would indicate. It does not mean a union of all German peoples. And it is, therefore, entirely different from Pan-Slavism, for instance, which means the union of all Slav peoples. As an abstract proposition it is merely another expression for the sentiment Deutschland über alles — Germany (should be put) above every other country. It is the dream of world-empire, with the old Roman Empire as a model. A world-empire presided over and ruled by Germany, with the assistance of its legions, as Rome ruled her dominions. It is for this hideous dream of a military world-empire that Germans have given up their cherished hope of a United Germany. It is for this that they are willing to let some fifteen million Germans and the oldest center of German culture remain outside of Germany. For such are the dictates of Pan-Germanism when translated into practice.

As a practical proposition, Pan-Germanism— in so far at least as it has assumed definite practical forms as a political project— means the creation of a world-empire the main element of which shall be a continuous body of territory containing the principal parts of the mainland of Europe and Asia and stretching from ocean to ocean. Roughly outlined this body of territory would begin at the Atlantic Ocean, having the coast line from the Strait of Dover to the Scandinavian mainland as its Northwestern boundary; it would then run in a general Southeasterly direction, and include Belgium and Holland, Germany and Austria-Hungary, the Balkans, Asia Minor, Mesopotamia, and India, reaching the Pacific at the Indian Ocean, which would form its Southeasterly boundary. Of course, there would be trimmings and outlets on all sides and in all directions as befits such a giant body. But above all, in order to insure its being an economic entity as well as a political one, it would be welded together with an iron ring of railroad lines running through its entire length and having the necessary ramifications.

Of course, this requires considerable reconstruction of the present map of the world. It requires the snuffing out of the breath of life of some independent states, whose people may be stupid enough to prefer independent existence in a ridiculously small way to being part and parcel of such a wonderful world-empire. But no matter: we have our professors to explain to them the superior beauties of German Culture, and we have our bayonets to enforce their arguments in a most convincing manner. On the other hand, we shall have to keep alive, for a time at least, some moribund political bodies by artificial stimulants. In this, too, our great scientists and our great army— the most wonderful military machine the world has ever seen— will undoubtedly succeed.

That we have a right to do all this goes without saying. The very fact that we have the power to do it shows that we have the right to do it. In fact, we are bidden by our Destiny to do it. For we must have it done. Otherwise, we shall fail in our mission of making Germany dominate the world, and having German Culture obliterate and take the place of every other form of civilization.

Antwerp and Rotterdam are absolutely essential to the scheme. Germany wants its “natural” ocean front, which includes the Belgian and Dutch coast lines, as a glance at the map will show. As it is, these two little countries levy toll on German commerce. Antwerp and Rotterdam have grown immensely rich because of it. There are probably no two other cities in the world, certainly not in Europe, which have grown so rich in so short a time as have Rotterdam and Antwerp in the past fifty years. But it is the German hinterland that has made them grow so fast. Between them these two cities control the avenues which lead from the Rhineland and South Germany to the ocean and into the wide world. It is the height of absurdity that a great empire like the present Germany should permit the mouth of its “national river”, the river which not only bears a large portion of its commerce, but most of its legends and traditions, to be controlled by a handful of recalcitrant Germans who imagine themselves to be a separate nation and refuse to come into the Empire out of stupidity or greed. With this empire turned into a world-empire this anomalous situation, then absolutely unbearable, will simply have to cease.

The Balkans, too, are indispensable to this scheme. The great strategic and commercial importance of the Bosporus-Dardanelles has already been explained. Its importance is decisive in this world-empire scheme, whose chief economic weapon is to be the creation of the fastest route from the Atlantic to the Pacific, tapping the richest Asiatic countries on the way. The Balkan Peninsula— through which the road which is to span the Bosporus must run— is peopled mostly by Slavs. Hence the necessity of keeping alive the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, which forms the political connecting link between the German Empire and the Slavs of Southeastern Europe. Hence, also, the necessity of supporting Austria in her Balkan policy, which includes two points essential to the success of the Pan-Germanistic scheme: Keep Russia from Constantinople, and keep the Slavic principalities on the peninsula weak enough so that they can not offer any resistance to the German-Austrian plans. Austria is simply Germany’s outpost,— the political means by which the German Race is to control the Southeastern Slavs.

With the Balkans dominated by Austria, there is practically no further obstacle to the carrying out of the great scheme of Pan-Germanism. It is true that Turkey is still in possession of Constantinople, and of Asia Minor and Mesopotamia. But “The Sick Man of Europe” has long ago been convinced that unless he casts his lot with Germany his lease of life is likely to be cut very short. There is, therefore, very little difficulty to be apprehended from Turkey,— if the Sultan and his advisers were permitted to follow their own inclinations. Unfortunately, the Sultan is not master of his own destinies. He is not strong enough to stand on his own legs. And the question is: Will the other powers, particularly England, stand by and permit this great scheme to be carried out without a fight?

The realization of this scheme would change the commercial routes of the world; it would probably destroy England’s carrier-trade by sea and deprive her of India. Incidentally, it would make England contribute to the expense of building those very railways whose chief object is to put her out of business. England must, therefore, fight. And the great problem, from the Pan-German point of view, is to make her fight under circumstances that will insure her defeat.

This can be accomplished by isolating her. Alone she would, of course, be no match for the Austro-German-Turkish combination. But these very schemes compel England to abandon her traditional policy of “splendid isolation”, and join hands with her traditional enemy across the channel, and even with her great rival in Asia, the Russian Bear. Politics make strange bedfellows: this applies particularly to world-politics. England and France have never been known to be great friends. The Hundred Years’ War is, of course, a matter of ancient history. The wars of the Age of Louis XIV and the Seven Years’ War which culminated in the cession of France’s American possessions to England, may, perhaps, also be considered too ancient to be a living influence. But the Napoleonic wars are of comparatively recent date, and the Fashoda incident happened but yesterday. English and Russian rivalry in Asia is not only century-old, but has been continuous and persistent. England has been chiefly responsible for the thwarting of Russia’s designs on Constantinople. To-day England is united with France and Russia in the so-called Entente Cordiale, and the ancient enemies are fighting shoulder to shoulder one of the greatest fights that the world has ever witnessed.

I have already intimated that England was forced out of her “splendid isolation” and into the Entente Cordiale by the schemes of Pan-Germanism which threaten her present position as an industrial and commercial nation. I may add here that the beginnings of the Entente Cordiale can be traced directly to the first practical step in the realization, or attempted realization, of the Pan-Germanistic dream— the Bagdad Railway. The Bagdad Railway was, in my opinion, such an important factor in bringing about this war, and its history illustrates so well what I have said about the economic causes of modern imperialism, that I think it worth while to give it a few moments of our time, so as to examine it in outline at least.

Some time in the eighties of the last century, about the time when Germany started her imperialistic career, a group of German capitalists and promoters obtained from the Sultan a concession to build a railroad which was to extend, ultimately, from Constantinople, through Asia Minor and Mesopotamia, to Bagdad, and from there to the Persian Gulf. Building on some sections of this territory began not long afterwards; but very little progress was made until well into this century, owing to difficulties of a financial as well as of a political nature.

When the project was first given to the world it was hailed as one of the greatest cultural undertakings as well as one of the most promising from an economic point of view. This railroad would not only connect the Mediterranean with the Indian Ocean and the Pacific, but would traverse regions which were at one time the seats of the highest civilizations of their day,— regions whose natural capacity to support a busy and thriving population has already been demonstrated. Some of the territory was at one time accounted among the most fruitful in the world. It was in Mesopotamia, now to be tapped by this railroad, that the Biblical paradise was located, according to tradition. It is true that large portions of this territory have since turned to waste. But with the new culture that the railroad was to bring into this part of the world, its fruitfulness and great economic value would return,— that is, after a time and after the expenditure of some capital for irrigation works and similar permanent improvements.

Nevertheless, the problem of building the railroad was not a simple one, even from the purely financial point of view. You certainly cannot lure capital into a railway enterprise by the prospect of “redeeming” Nineveh and Babylon. Nor can you get the necessary capital for such an enterprise when the prospect of large dividends which are to accompany the redeeming of old cultures, or the propagation of new ones, is too distant to be comfortable. Capital is proverbially “timid”.

So that, notwithstanding the great economic prospects of this railroad— perhaps the finest of their kind in the world— “capital” wouldn’t bite. That is to say, on the strength of the “prospects” alone. But capital, or at least capitalists were very anxious to bite, if the road was to be built on the terms which I have mentioned in a preceding lecture as the proper terms for railroad building of the “redeeming” and “civilizing’’ kind. The German Government, therefore, bestirred itself on behalf of its culture-bearing railroad-builders, with the result that the Turkish Government agreed to subsidize the enterprise to such an extent that, as far as the German capitalists were concerned, the fruitfulness of the country and profitableness of the enterprise were to become immediate and assured.

But that was not the end of the matter. “The Sick Man of Europe” is not exactly his own master. His health is under the supervision of a committee of doctors known as the Great Powers. Turkey is so heavily indebted to foreign capitalists that her revenues were many years ago placed under the supervision of an international commission representing the great European Powers, who see to it that no part of these revenues are applied to other purposes than those agreed upon,— current expenses and the payment of interest. The duties which Turkey can levy on imports is prescribed for her by the same Great Powers, and she has no right to increase her revenues by increasing these duties, without their consent. And as an increase of duties on imports was practically the only source out of which Turkey could pay the subsidy to the Bagdad Railway, the financing of that railway became largely a matter of international politics. The increase of duties on imports in order to provide a subsidy for the Bagdad Railway was manifestly to the disadvantage of those powers who were not directly interested in that enterprise: their merchants who exported to Turkey would actually be bearing the cost of the building of that railway, the profits of which would be reaped by the German entrepreneurs. And as England was doing the largest export business to Turkey, England vetoed the plan of paying the subsidy out of increased import duties, and thereby endangered the entire enterprise.

But this was not the only source of difficulty. At first Russia and then England had other objections to the Bagdad Railway scheme, besides the purely financial ones just mentioned. Russia’s objections were mostly of a military-strategic nature, and they were obviated by shifting somewhat the line of the road. England was at first rather favorable to the plan, and even helped the German concessionaires at the initial stages of the enterprise with her influence at the Porte, which was then very strong. This was at the time when England was still dreaming pacific dreams, and was making Germany gifts of such strategic positions as Heligoland. But by the time the project began to be realized and assume its true proportions, England was herself in the throes of Imperialism, and she assumed an attitude of unalterable hostility.

This hostility led to what is known as the “Koweit Incident”. As I have already stated, the Bagdad Railway was not to stop at Bagdad, but was to run on to the Persian Gulf. Its terminus on the Gulf was to be Koweit, the very best, if not the only possible terminus for such a railroad. The principal objection to the entire scheme, from the English point of view, was this very feature,— its terminating on the Gulf, which also made it so important from the Pan-Germanistic point of view. England was therefore resolved to prevent this at all costs. And she did,— for the time being at least. When it became evident that Germany was reaping great “diplomatic” victories at Stamboul,[a] and that the Sultan was irrevocably committed to Germany’s plans, England discovered that Turkey’s title to suzerainty over the Province of Koweit was of doubtful character, and that her interests demanded that she take a hand in the quarrels of some native chieftains with a view to eliminating the Sultan from the situation. One fine morning an English man-of-war appeared in the harbor of Koweit, and Koweit was declared an independent principality, care being taken that its “independent” ruler should look upon the Bagdad Railway scheme from the English point of view.

The Koweit incident stopped the progress of the Bagdad Railway. Work continued on different sections of the road, but it was quite apparent that the original scheme, with those features of it which were so important from the “world-politics” point of view, would have to be abandoned, unless Germany could score some more “diplomatic” victories and compel England to abandon her opposition. But after many vicissitudes German diplomacy was decisively defeated by the rapprochement between France and England, and the “Entente Cordiale” which followed it. This defeat was formally acknowledged by Germany in the agreement made in 1911,— the year, it will be recalled, of the Agadir Incident, in which Germany’s diplomacy suffered another signal defeat at the hands of the “Entente Cordiale”. By that agreement Germany practically gave up the Persian Gulf end of the enterprise, in return for England’s formal approval of the remainder of the plan. This makes the road end nowhere, and robs it of its great importance as a part of the “Ocean to Ocean” world-empire scheme.

In the meantime history was being made on another part of the great field of operations encompassed in the Pan-Germanistic scheme.

As we have already seen the Balkans form an indispensable link in the same scheme of Pan-Germanism, of which the Bagdad Railway is so important a factor. And this railway itself loses its entire importance, as a part of the Pan-Germanistic scheme, if it cannot be joined to a trans-continental European railway under the complete domination of Germany. Such a railway must, of course, run through the Balkan peninsula. The fight for the Bagdad Railway was therefore carried on simultaneously on both sides of the Bosporus. And it was the fight on the European side that first led to a resort to arms, and led directly to the present war. It may be said truthfully that the present war was declared not on August 1st, 1914, but on October 7th, 1908, when Austria announced that she had annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina, two Balkan provinces populated mainly by Serbs.

In 1878, after the Russo-Turkish War which led to a re-arrangement of Balkan affairs, these two provinces, which formed part of Turkey in Europe, were placed under Austrian administration, although they nominally remained Turkish dependencies. These two provinces, together with the little patch of land known as the Sanjak of Novibazar, immediately adjoining these provinces to the south, and similarly placed under Austrian control in 1878, formed the chief and immediate bone of contention between Austria and Servia; a contention which received world-wide importance through the Pan-Germanistic scheme. We shall, therefore, consider these Provinces from their local as well as their general aspects, so that we may form an opinion of their role in the specifically Balkan complications as well as in the war which is now waging.

Bosnia and Herzegovina have a population of nearly two millions, mainly of Servian stock. The Sanjak of Novibazar has a population of less than two hundred thousand, about three-fourths of which is Serb. The first two provinces are important in themselves, at least from the Servian point of view, as an addition to the present Kingdom of Servia of the territory of these two provinces with nearly two million population would mean a great increase of its power. The importance of Novibazar is chiefly strategic. And the three together possess particularly great value from the Pan-Germanistic point of view.

The Sanjak of Novibazar is a small, and in itself unimportant territory. Its importance lay in the fact that it was shoved in like a wedge between Servia and Montenegro. It separated these two racially related Kingdoms, and kept the more important of them, Servia, from the seacoast which it would get by a union of the two. On the other hand it connected the Austro-Hungarian Empire, through Bosnia-Herzegovina, to the North of it, with the Turkish Empire to the South. Bosnia and Herzegovina lie immediately to the north of Novibazar, bounded by Austria-Hungary, Servia, and Montenegro, except at the point where the Sanjak separated these two Kingdoms, where it formed the boundary of Bosnia-Herzegovina.

From the local, or Austro-Servian point of view, the importance of these territories lay in this: The possession of the Sanjak of Novibazar by Servia would permit the union of Servia and Montenegro, uniting their divided strength and presenting a solid front against Austria in case of trouble. The possession by Servia of Bosnia-Herzegovina would mean an enormous accession of power for Servia, besides tending to unite Servia with Montenegro, and the creation of a great Slavic centre immediately to the South of the Dual Empire, a centre to which the Slavs of that Empire, and particularly the Servians, of whom there are many in that Empire, would naturally gravitate. But most important of all,— the possession of either Bosnia-Herzegovina or the Sanjak of Novibazar by Servia or Servia-Mon-tenegro would form an impassible barrier between Austria-Hungary and the lower Balkans. That is, it would exclude the Dual Monarchy from participation in the division of the Turkish Dominions in Europe when the time came for such division, thereby forever checking her designs on the lower Adriatic and the Aegean Sea.

From the larger, Pan-Germanistic point of view, the possession by Servia or Servia-Montenegro of either Bosnia-Herzegovina or Novibazar would stop the march of the German Empire southward to the Bosporus, and would break the great German chain which is to unite the Atlantic with the Pacific in one world-empire.

In 1908 Germany and Austria thought the time opportune to check Servia’s ambitions and to approach the final realization of the Balkan end of the World-empire scheme (and, incidentally, of the Bagdad Railway project), by formally annexing Bosnia-Herzegovina. The time was deemed opportune because Russia, who had been weakened by the Japanese War, was too weak to offer any opposition alone, and France, her only ally, had neither sufficient power nor sufficient interest in the subject-matter of the quarrel to risk a war with Germany. In order to further weaken Russia, and prevent any union of the Balkan nations in opposition to the grab, Bulgaria was won over to the plan, her remuneration being complete independence from Turkey, who up to then had a formal suzerainty over the principality. And so, on October 7th, 1908, the simultaneous announcements were made, by Austria, that she had annexed Bosnia-Herzegovina; and by Bulgaria, that she no longer recognized the Sultan’s overlordship, and that Prince Ferdinand had assumed the title of Czar of Bulgaria.

The coup succeeded. Nobody dared do anything in opposition to the German-Austrian schemes, and they seemed on the way towards complete realization. But there followed unlooked for consequences: The Dual Alliance between Russia and France became the Triple Entente, with England as the third member; the two Balkan Wars— the second practically the direct result of Austrian intervention, carrying out the policy which indicated the annexation— with the defeat of Bulgaria by Servia; followed by a strong Serb national movement culminating in the Serajevo shooting.

Some of these events were not only unlooked for, but almost unbelievable. That England should abandon her century-old policy of opposition to Russia was amazing. That Servia should defeat Bulgaria was contrary to the best military opinion.

The net result of these events was a distinct weakening of the international position of the Austro-German combination, particularly with respect to its Balkan Peninsula-Bagdad Railway interests; at least as viewed from the Pan-German view-point. We have already mentioned the fact that in 1911 Germany was compelled to accept defeat and abandon the Bagdad-Persian Gulf extension of the Bagdad Railway in so far as its political control was concerned. The same year saw the German diplomatic defeat in Morocco, following the Agadir Incident. The situation on the Balkan peninsula after the conclusion of the Second Balkan War was anything but satisfactory. It is true that the German powers had succeeded in arresting Servia’s march to the sea by the creation of the Albanian Kingdom. But the new Kingdom was evidently stillborn and destined to fall a prey to Servia or a Serbo-Greek combination. Turkey was eliminated from the Balkan situation, except at the Bosporus-Dardanelles Strait. But most important of all, the Vienna-Constantinople-Bagdad chain was broken. Unless, therefore, Servia was reduced to an Austrian dependency, she would interpose an insurmountable barrier to the ambitions of Austria, and the abandonment of the entire scheme of Pan-Germanism seemed only a matter of time.

Something had to be done, and done at once: Before Servia gathered sufficient strength to fight her way to the sea. Before Russia completed the reorganization of her military forces, in which she was busily engaged. Before the influence of the Triple Entente, which was evidently growing, had grown much further, and had broken the awe in which Germany’s power was held. While the Triple Alliance, whose bonds were perceptibly loosening, owing to the acuteness of the Balkan situation in which the interests of Austria and Italy were irreconcilable, had not yet completely broken down. While Turkey— now completely under the thumb of Germany, but whose actions could not be foretold a few years in advance— still remained dependable. It was evident that if Pan-Germanism was to be realized it had to be fought for with arms,— as diplomacy had completely failed. And it was equally evident that if it was to be fought for, the sooner the better. Germany had failed diplomatically, but as an armed force she was at the height of her power, while her opponents were unready and as yet disorganized.

At this juncture came the Serajevo shooting. This made the crisis inevitable. Again speaking from the Pan-Germanist point of view: On the one hand, it furnished an excuse for war that could perhaps never be duplicated. And on the other, a failure to act now would be such a diplomatic defeat as would make all future attempts to gain anything in that way impossible, and would compel the definite abandonment of all thoughts of world-dominion for a considerable time to come at least, if not forever. It meant the abandonment of the attempt to dominate the Balkans by means of Austria, and with it the beautiful vision of a German world-empire, with the unlimited possibilities of railroad building in the Balkans, Asia Minor, Mesopotamia, Arabia, India; not to mention the deflection of the principle trade route to the East from the Suez Canal and into German-controlled territory, thus driving England out of the world’s carrying trade.

So the blow was struck. In the interest of German railroad building, ship building, and of the export of German capital generally for the permanent improvement of “unimproved” countries; under the stimulus of an enormous production of iron and steel, but in the name of German Culture and of Germany’s Destiny. And the blow was struck back in the name of liberty and independence, but really to protect the great material interests which the different nations have at stake. England and France have their own railroad and ship-builders to protect, their own iron and steel to sell; and these would be in grave danger if Germany were permitted to carry out her world-empire schemes. And not only would these particular interests suffer, but owing to the development of modern production and in the inter-industrial distribution already mentioned, their entire economic life might be endangered if the development of these industries were artificially interfered with. Russia and Servia, on the other hand, are seeking the extension of their territory in an effort to reach the sea, which is an imperative law of capitalistic development enjoined upon all countries which desire to develop an absolutely independent capitalistic economy. Belgium wants to keep for her own capitalists the lucrative trade of Antwerp which Germany would fain transfer to German capitalists.

Transcriber's Note

a. Modern Spelling: Istanbul. The contemporary name of the city Boudin still refers to with its original Roman name, Constantinople. The city was renamed after its conquest by the Ottoman Empire in 1453.

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Last updated on 25 October 2022