It is
undeniable that the Kaiserreich had, since its conception in 1871,
sought to cement itself as a world power and expand within Europe to establish
a formidable empire – to the extent that they were willing to risk war in the
process. This tenacious pursuit of political ambition was deeply-rooted in a belief
that Germany was internationally slighted, which nourished intense patriotism.
A glorious military history, reinforced in the minds of German contemporaries
in 1914 by recent victory in the Franco-Prussian war of 1870, fostered a sense
of military superiority. These culminated in a dynamic German desire to become
the world power they sorely craved. The aggressive expression of their
expansive interests within the European continent made it clear that Germany
was willing to be forceful in its pursuit of imperial growth, with A.J.P.
Taylor arguing in 1954 that the German ‘bid for continental supremacy was
certainly decisive in bringing on the European war’. As with all risks, the
possible rewards were considerable: Germany believed a successful war would
reap huge territorial gains from Russia to the East and subsequent dominance of
the European mainland. Success would quench their ambitious thirst, but defeat
threatened the destruction of the German Empire. Considering their political
ambitions, Germany had little choice other than to risk war when faced with the
possibility of such a bountiful reward.
Given the
risk-reward balance Germany faced, some have argued that they deliberately
pursued a policy of war. Intentionalist perspectives have been pioneered most
notably by Fritz Fischer, who argued that the Kaiserreich’s desire for
world power was so strong that Germany intentionally acted hostile, instigating
war in 1914 in hopes of achieving world power. While Fischer does not suggest
that Germany “risked” war, his argument that German foreign policy was
antagonistic in the years leading up to the war certainly rings true. Taking
nuanced issue with Fischer’s thesis, it is unconvincing that Germany acted
antagonistically with the principal intention of provoking a war. Rather, it
seems they deliberately goaded the European powers as a challenge in attempts
to prove their potential as a global power. This is exemplified by their
actions during the second Moroccan Crisis in 1911, when Germany landed an armed
vessel in the port of Agadir while the French were trying to suppress a
rebellion. In academic Mark Hewitson’s opinion, the Germans hoped that this
would damage the French and British alliance, subsequently weakening both
countries and enabling Germany to move into the power vacuum that would likely be
created by even the most marginal decline in either empire. Not to incite war
with France. This would also breakdown the alliance system which many have somewhat
naively argued “dragged” Europe into war. Aggressive actions like this, which
by their very nature carried the innate risk of war, demonstrated that Germany believed
itself capable of challenging major European powers and wanted others to
believe it too – a crucial step closer to becoming a major power.
Further consequential
of the German determination to become a world power was the huge expansion of
their military between 1890 and 1914, although some intentionalists consider
this evidence of an extensively-premeditated war rather than a risked war, for
which Germany was prepared because of their rivalry with Britain. In 1898, the Reichstag’s
fourth Fleet Act ordered that 17 new vessels be built. On the eve of war in
1914, Germany had 29 U-boats – the first of which, creatively named U-1,
had been launched in 1906. This rapid growth threatened British naval
supremacy, who responded by introducing the Two-Power standard to ensure their
continued dominance, thus beginning an acceleration in the Anglo-German naval
race. This intense arms competition was largely propelled by Wilhelm II’s
obsession with challenging the naval power which had made his grandmother,
Queen Victoria, the most powerful monarch in recent history. Other powers saw
this intense competition and concluded that war must be imminent and so they
too should prepare. Continuous military expansion driven by rivalry amongst the
six great powers – Britain, France, Germany, Austria-Hungary, Russia, and Italy
– made war seem increasingly inevitable and resulted in a combined £398 million
of military spending by 1914. More than four times that of 1870. The argument that
rapid German armament growth was indicative of their intent to wage war is
lacking the consideration that a primary function of a strong military is to
act as a deterrent and a status symbol, not an active agent. It is an insurance
policy: an ‘if’. Rather than indicating their intentions for war, German
military growth was simply a logical part of their wider pursuit of ambitions
to compete with the major European powers of the time, and cement Germany’s
place amongst them – a status they were willing to risk war to achieve.
Paradoxically,
both confidence and insecurity played a vital role in Germany’s decision to
risk war in 1914. The Kaiserreich feared encirclement in Europe. They
were surrounded by the most powerful empires in the world and feared that if
they could not sit at the table with them, Germany would fall to serve them.
German revisionist Gregor Schöllgen and Andreas Hillgruber both argue that this fear,
whether legitimate or self-fabricated, caused Germany to act in a way which
risked war. Rising nationalism of the late nineteenth century also contributed
to German fears of encirclement, and fostered a European mood for war while
posing a grave threat to the unity of weaker empires. Furthermore, these anxieties
were exacerbated in the consciousnesses of the public by fear-mongering
sensationalist invasion literature directed against German enemies both
internal and external (Jews and Slavs respectively), which promoted nationalist
sentiments and the idea that Germany was under constant threat from outside
powers. Despite the steps Germany took towards attaining global power, like
growing their military, there was widespread domestic frustration that the Kaiserreich
was failing to make any European territorial gains. These frustrations and
the belief that the only alternative to expansion was collapse led many
Wilhelmine Germans to consider the necessity of war to win territory with ‘blood
and iron’, rather than failing diplomatic words. There was a particular
predisposition to encirclement fears and solutionary war amongst the military leadership,
which was still deeply influenced by Prussian military culture and dogma. It
was this same aggressive military doctrine which convinced these “fearful” generals
that they could achieve a decisive victory in a risked conflict against their
encircling foe.
Insecurity
about Germany’s position in Europe was contrasted with significant militarism
and overconfidence, which empowered German military leaders to readily risk war
in 1914. The doctrinal subscription of the Imperial military to Blitzkrieg –
the Clausewitzian offensive strategy of an army dealing a single swift and
devastating blow which decimated their enemy and secured prolonged dominance of
the victor – was evidence of the adoption of Prussian militarism as the
ideological nucleus of the Imperial armed forces. Consequently, the power of
diplomacy as a tool with which to resolve disputes was undermined, while the
Prussian-dominated Deutsches Heer (Germany’s imperial military) grew
ever more difficult for the Government to control. The Schlieffen Plan
was based entirely upon the success of this kind of offensive – or pre-emptively
defensive, for a revisionist
interpretation – ‘lightning war’ in Belgium and France. These men, who Schöllgen
claims to have been motivated by fear, were so confident that they could win
these crucial victories that they failed to come up with a contingency plan
should they not; a basic part of planning any military operation. This simple
fact undermines Schöllgen’s argument, as had the military leaders truly been
motivated to risk war out of fear, they would have taken the time to construct
a comprehensive back-up plan. The lack of a contingency plan also suggests a
frantic, tense, and highly-charged decision-making climate in which standard
procedure was omitted, whether consciously or not. It is this role in which
revisionist arguments of fear are best placed. On the other hand, perhaps it
was because of the “all or nothing” nature of Blitzkrieg warfare that
they failed to outline an alternative plan. Evidence of contingency plans for
earlier imperial military operations however reasserts that the Schlieffen plan’s
deficiency is anomalous, and symptomatic of inflated militaristic confidence which
directly contributed to the German decision to risk war.
The
military leadership’s failure to form such a plan implies a
borderline-delusional level of confidence in the capabilities of the German
military which encouraged risk, as well as gross underestimations of both
French and Russian capabilities. Vice Admiral Albert Hopman reported to Grand Admiral
of the Imperial Naval Office, Alfred von Tirpitz, that ‘Russia is at the moment
totally unprepared militarily and financially. The same applies to France,
especially with respect to finance’. These tragic underestimations were based
on prejudiced opinions of the French as a state and people in decline, and Russia
as so underdeveloped that it, in Bethmann-Hollweg’s own words, ‘cannot be
compared with…the states of western Europe’. Reports of French and Russian
weakness dulled the fear of encirclement long enough for German generals to
conclude that a major war was unlikely, further encouraging them to risk
conflict. Ultimately, Germany’s decision to risk war was fuelled by military overconfidence,
while the failure to pursue expansionary
ambitions was embodied and experienced as the fear of encirclement.
As
Germany’s only reliable ally in Europe, the seeming decline of the
Austro-Hungarian empire in the face of rising late nineteenth century nationalism
greatly concerned Germany, to the extent that they were willing to risk war in
attempts to re-stabilise it. Germany relied on the alliance to prevent European
isolation – their sense of dependence intensified by their fear of encirclement
– and deter Russia from attacking either empire. A threat to Austro-Hungarian
prowess therefore threatened chances of German global power. After the July
Crisis and the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, war between Austria-Hungary
and Serbia seemed unavoidable. The Habsburg Chief of staff, along with many Austro-Hungarian
officials, continuously advocated for a ‘preventative’ war against Serbia,
which Bethmann-Hollweg feared ‘[could] result in a world war’. The
Austro-Hungarian willingness to risk war demonstrates the same kind of
aggression that Fischer has been accused of presenting as uniquely German, and would
logically increase the likelihood of Germany also risking war, were their ally
to do so first. The mood of German officials was that ‘war [must] not be
declared on Russia, but [we must] wait for Russia to attack’. They must,
according to Admiral von Mueller, ‘remain calm to allow Russia to put herself
in the wrong, but then not to shrink from war if it [is] inevitable’. Conflict
between Austria-Hungary and Serbia must remain local and limited, and
Austria-Hungary must emerge victorious in order to restabilise itself. Germany
was willing to risk war if it became ‘inevitable’, but was unwilling to risk
being the instigating belligerent force in a war against Russia.
The
concept of a limited war was extremely risky and dubious, and by applying it in
1914 the Wilhelmine Government knowingly and greatly risked war. Despite
the peculiarly optimistic government stance that ‘one expects a localisation of
the conflict since England is absolutely peaceable and France as well as Russia
likewise do not feel inclined toward war’, there was no way of ensuring that
the conflict would not spill out of the Baltic states. Officials realised this,
but decided to employ it anyways because of what historian James Joll has
identified as a European mood to ‘willingly risk war’ and accept it as a
solution. Chief of the German General Staff, Helmuth von Moltke the Younger, clearly
approved of the concept, having reportedly said that ‘Austria must beat the
Serbs and then make peace quickly’. His opinion on why they must make peace
quickly is not expressly recorded in the diaries of his private secretary, Kurt
Riezler, but we can infer from his urgent tone that he recognised the likely danger
of the conflict out-growing German management and drawing in other belligerent
nations. Bethmann-Hollweg was more concerned about the risks of a global war,
but did eventually turn in favour of limited war in light of his failure to
pacify Britain. Nevertheless, he clearly did not support Moltke’s view of
solutionary war or expansionary armament, reportedly complaining in June 1913
that he had ‘had quite enough of war and calls for war and of huge armaments
programmes’. Bethmann-Hollweg seemed only to support Germany risking war once
politically-congruent alternatives were exhausted.
Evidence
of the Chancellor’s reluctance and contempt for war is damning for
intentionalist arguments, even if only to a limited extent given the Kaiser’s contrarily
pro-military stance and Moltke’s military pedigree. Moltke was the nephew of
the director of the glorious Franco-Prussian war, Prussian Chief of Staff, and
published romance author: Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke the Elder –
affectionately known to his colleagues as der Goldene Mann. The decorated
military genius disagreed with his nephew about the decision for war in 1914, believing
Germany incapable of winning a war against the major powers, and judging that such a conflict carried greater
risk than reward. The lack of harmony amongst military and civilian leaders
about the agreeability of war – which is often glossed over in intentionalist
arguments – encourages an interpretation of the war as a product of several
factors and forces, rather than as the result of hostile intentions. The Kaiserreich
identified a limited war as a dangerous approach to restabilising its
declining imperial ally, but gravely decided that they must risk war to secure
Germany’s future ability to pursue their political ambitions of becoming a
world power.
Germany’s
decision to risk war in 1914 was motivated primarily by a lack of alternative
options after July 1914 which were compatible with their political ambitions of
becoming a world power. Acting antagonistically because of a paradoxical
mentality of insecurity and militaristic confidence, Germany repeatedly
provoked the major European powers to challenge their authority and promote its
own status. This angsty, rebellious, teenager-type behaviour was not intended
to instigate war. The Kaiserreich knowingly skirted the boundaries of
peaceable belligerence, but was adamant that it wished to avoid war unless it
became absolutely inevitable. After the July crisis of 1914, Germany was in the
position in which its only reliable ally, Austria-Hungary, was under threat and
appearing to crumble. This alliance was vital in the eyes of the German
leadership to securing Germany’s position in Europe and providing them the
protection they needed to try and advance it. As such, they had to act
decisively to secure their future survival and prosperity. Any war carries huge
risks; human, economic, political, territorial – the risk of war in 1914 was no
different. Germany saw itself in a situation after July 1914 where the only
possible way of continuing to pursue their lofty political ambitions of world
power was by making the decision to risk war. If Germany hoped to roll the dice
with the major World powers, it had to risk taking a hit. No gambler has ever
won without risking loss.
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