CHAPTER II.

The German Conception of the State.

We have seen how the whole manner of life and the traditions of the Germans were obstacles to their political development. Mention has also been made of their peculiar tendency toward abstract philosophic habits of thought, which are not only inexplicable by the manner of the people's long-continued struggle for existence, but seem indeed to prevail in defiance of it.

In addition to this powerful factor there existed another set of factors which worked with wonderful effectiveness toward the same end--the crippling of independent and practical political thinking. This was the conception of the state held by the ruling-classes of Germany and their manner of imposing this conception upon the people. It may briefly be put thus: the people existed for the sake of the state, not the state for the sake of the people. The state was the central and great idea; whatever weakened its authority or power was of evil. It could grant free play to individualism only in those things that could not affect the state directly, such as music and the fine arts, and to abstract philosophy and literature--particularly the drama--as long as they avoided dangerous political topics. Its keynote was authority and the subjection of the individual to the welfare of the state.

The tendency of this system to make for efficiency so far as the actual brute power of a state is concerned cannot be denied in the light of the events of the World War. We have seen how in America itself, the stronghold of political and religious liberty, individualism was sternly repressed and even slight offenses against the authority of the state were punished by prison sentences of a barbarous severity unknown in any civilized country of Europe. We have seen the churches, reinterpreting the principles of the New Testament, and the schools, rewriting history to supposed good ends, both enlisted in this repression of individualism for the sake of increasing the efficiency of the state at a time when the highest efficiency was required.

But the distinction between such conditions here and the pre-war conditions in Germany is that they obtained, although in milder form, in Germany in peace times as well. And the Anglo-Saxon conception of the state is as of a thing existing for the sake of the people and with no possible interests that cannot be served by the democratic and individualistic development of its people. Between this conception and the conception held by Germany's rulers there is a wide and irreconcilable difference.

Apart, however, from any consideration of the merits of the German system, it must be admitted that the world has never seen another such intelligent application of principles of statecraft to the end sought to be attained. That the system eventually collapsed was not due to its internal faults, but to abnormal and unforeseeable events. The extent of its collapse, however, was directly due to the structure of the system itself.

It has already been pointed out that authority was the keynote of the German system. This authority, embodied in school and church, began to mold the plastic mind of the German child as early as the age of six. "The Emperor is the father of his country and loves his children like a father; we owe him the obedience due to a father," taught the school. "Submit yourselves unto authority," said the church, using Paul's words to serve the ends of the state. The child came from school and church to his military service and found authority enthroned there. He had to obey the orders of every _Vorgesetzter_ (superior in authority) from field marshal down to corporal. He found that, in the absence of officers or non-commissioned officers, he must submit himself to the authority of the _Stubenaeltester_, the senior soldier in the same room with him. Insubordination was punished rigorously.

Precept, example and punishment were but a part of a system calculated to make discipline and submission to authority advisable and profitable. The penalties prescribed by the German penal and military codes for infractions of the laws were far less severe than the penalties prescribed in the code of any American state, but conviction was followed by a consequence of great moment in Germany: the man who was _vorbestraft_, that is, who had been punished for any transgression, found himself automatically excluded from any opportunity to become a _Beamter_, or government official.

The system of punishment had always as its chief purpose the laying of emphasis upon duty, and this was often arrived at in an indirect way. For example, the soldier who failed to keep his valuables in the locker provided for him in his barracks and who lost them by theft, was punished for his own negligence.

No other country in the world employed so large a proportion of its total population in the administration of government, and in no other country was the system so cleverly calculated to make government office attractive to the average man. The salaries were not larger than those earned by men of the same class in non-official employments, but employment under the government offered in addition both material and moral advantages. The chief material advantage was the right to retire after a specified number of years of service on liberal pension. The moral advantages rested in the dignity of government service and in the special protection afforded government servants. A carefully graded scale of titles made its appeal to personal vanity. This has frequently been described as particularly German, but it was, in the last analysis, merely human. There are comparatively few men in any country, not excluding America, who are totally indifferent to titles, and there is at least one state whose fondness for them has become a stock subject for all American humorists. What was, however, particularly German was the astuteness with which the ruling-classes of Germany had turned this human weakness to account as an asset of government, and also the extent to which it had been developed, especially downward. Mr. Smith, who cleans the streets of an American city, would not be especially gratified to be addressed as Mr. Street-Cleaner, but his German colleague felt a glow of pride at hearing the address "Herr Street-Cleaner Schmidt," and this feeling was a very real asset to his government. It was the same at the other end of the scale. The government councillor was the more faithful and energetic in his devotion to the government's work because he knew that by faithfulness and energy he would eventually become a "privy government councillor" and the next step would be to "real privy government councillor, with the predicate 'Your Excellency'." And since wives bore the titles of their husbands, the appeal was doubly strong.

The _Beamter_ enjoyed furthermore special protection under the law. To call an ordinary person "idiot," for example, was a _Beleidigung_ or insult, but the same term applied to a _Beamter_ became _Beamtenbeleidigung_, or "insult to an official," and involved a much sharper punishment, and this punishment increased with the dignity of the person insulted until the person of the Kaiser was reached, an insult to whom was _Majestaetsbeleidigung_, an insult to majesty, or _lese majeste_, as the French term it. Prosecutions for _Majestaetsbeleidigung_ were not frequent, but the law was occasionally invoked. One of the last prosecutions for this offense occurred in 1913, when a man who had demonstratively turned a picture of the Kaiser toward the wall in the presence of a large gathering was sent to jail for four months.

Personal vanity was further exploited by a system of orders, decorations and civil-service medals. This system originated from an ancient custom which, with increasing travel, had become onerous. Royalty was everywhere expected to tip servants only with gold, and since the smallest gold coin was the equivalent of the American $2.50-piece, this constituted a severe financial tax on the poorer ruler of small principalities, who traveled much. One of these petty rulers conceived the bright idea of creating a system of bronze orders or medallions and substituting these inexpensive decorations for tips. The event justified his expectations; they were esteemed more highly than cash tips by people whose vanity was flattered at receiving a "decoration" from royalty. Eventually all states and the Empire adopted them. On fete days railway station-masters could be recognized on the streets by their numerous decorations. The railway-engineer, the mail-carrier, the janitor in a government office--all these men knew that so many years of loyal service meant recognition in the form of some sort of decoration for the coat-lapel, and these, in the stratum of society in which they moved, were just as highly regarded as was the Red Eagle or Hohenzollern House Order in higher classes of society. There is no room whatever for doubt that these things, whose actual cost was negligible, played a large part in securing faithful and devoted service to the government and compensated largely--and especially in the case of higher officials--for somewhat niggardly salaries. A prominent English statesman, visiting Berlin some years before the war, expressed to the writer his regret that England had not built up a similar system, which, in his opinion, was a powerful factor in securing a cheap and good administration of public affairs. Like the system of titles, it took advantage of a weakness not merely German, but human. Instances of the refusal of foreign orders and decorations by Americans are rare.

All these things, then, were factors of almost inestimable value in building up a strong governmental machine. At bottom, however, the whole structure rested upon another factor which should receive ungrudging admiration and recognition, regardless of one's attitude toward Germany or its governing classes. This was the strong sense of duty inculcated in every German, man or woman, from lowest to highest. Self-denial, a Spartan simplicity, faithfulness in the discharge of one's obligations--these were the characteristics that set their seal upon the average German. In some of the larger cities, and notably in Berlin, the Spartan ideals of life had been somewhat abandoned in the years preceding the war, but elsewhere they persisted, and nowhere to a greater extent than among the ruling-classes of Prussia, the so-called _Junker_. Former Ambassador Gerard has paid a deserved tribute to this class,[5] and the universal condemnation visited upon them by democratic peoples cannot justify a refusal to give them their due.

[5] "There is no leisure class among the Junkers. They are all workers, patriotic, honest and devoted to the Emperor and the Fatherland. If it is possible that government by one class is to be suffered, then the Prussian Junkers have proved themselves more fit for rule than any class in history. Their virtues are Spartan, their minds narrow but incorruptible, and their bravery and patriotism undoubted. One can but admire them and their stern, virtues." James W. Gerard, _My Four Years in Germany_, p. 123.

This uncompromising devotion to duty had its roots in old Prussian history. Frederick William I, father of Frederick the Great, threatened his son with death if he were found derelict in what the stern old man regarded as the duty of a future ruler.

The whole rule of Frederick the Great was marked by a rigid sense of duty. He termed himself "the first servant of the state," and no servant worked harder or allowed himself less leisure or fewer bodily comforts. It was this monarch who, told of a brave act of sacrifice by one of his officers, refused to consider it as anything calling for special recognition. _Er hat nur seine verdammte Pflicht und Schuldigkeit getan_ (he did only his accursed duty), said the King. This saying became the formula that characterized the attitude of the Prussian-German _Beamten_ in their relations to the state. Whatever was (or was represented as) their "accursed duty" must be done, regardless of personal considerations or rewards.

In the catalogue of virtues enumerated we have one important group of prerequisites to efficient government. There remain two things: intelligence and education. The first can be dismissed briefly. The average of intelligence in all civilized countries is probably much the same. There would not be much difference in native capacity and ability between the best thousand of a million Germans or of a million men of any other race. In respect of education and training, however, German officials as a whole were at least the equal of any body of government servants anywhere in the world and the superior of most. In the first place, educational qualifications were definitely laid down for every category of officials. Nor were these qualifications determined, as in the American civil-service, by an examination. The candidate must have attended school and taken the prescribed course for a term of years, varying with the importance of the government career to which he aspired.

This insured the possession of adequate educational qualifications of civil servants, and there was another thing of first importance in the building up of a strong and efficient civil-service. The "spoils system" in connection with public office was absolutely unknown in Germany. The idea that appointments to the government's service should depend upon the political faith of the appointee was one that never occurred to any German. If it had occurred to him it would have been immediately dismissed as inconsistent with the best administration of the government's affairs, as, indeed, it is. The only partisan qualification, or rather limitation, upon eligibility to public office was that members of the Social-Democratic party were ineligible, and that government employees might not become members of that party. From the standpoint of the ruling-classes this was natural. It was more; it was requisite. For the German Socialists were the avowed and uncompromising enemies of the existing government; they were advocates of a republic; they were the outspoken enemies of all authority except the authority of their own class, for which they assumed to be the only legitimate spokesmen, and they were, like Socialists the world over, internationalists first and patriots second. No government could be expected to help its bitterest opponents to power by giving places of honor and profit to their representatives.

The tenure of government officials, except, of course, that of ministers, was for life. Promotion was by merit, not by influence. The result was an efficiency which is generally admitted. The municipal administration of German cities in particular became the model for the world. The system withstood the practical test; it worked. The Chief Burgomaster of Greater Berlin is a man whose whole life-training has been devoted to the administration of cities. Beginning in a subordinate position in a small city, he became eventually its burgomaster (mayor), then mayor of a larger city, and so on until he was called to take charge of the administration of the empire's largest city. His career is typical of the German pre-revolutionary methods of choosing public servants, and the same principle was applied in every department of the government's service.

From the purposely brief sketch of German officialdom's characteristics and efficiency which has been presented it will be apparent that such a system was a powerful weapon in the hands of any ruling-class. Its efficiency might reasonably be expected to crush any revolution in the bud, and the loyalty of the men composing it might equally be expected to maintain to the last their allegiance to the classes that represented authority, with its supreme fount in the person of the ruler himself. That these expectations were not fulfilled would seem to testify to the inherent and irresistible strength of the revolution that upset it. We shall see later, however, that it was a different class of men with whom the revolution had to cope. Against the spirit of German officialdom of ante-bellum days revolution would have raised its head in vain.

The authority of the German state had another and even more powerful weapon than the _Beamtentum_. This was the military establishment and the officer-corps. Upon this in the first instance the throne of the Hohenzollerns was supported.

Enlightened democracy discovered centuries ago that a large standing army may easily become the tool of absolutism and the enemy of free institutions. This discovery found expression in England in the consistent refusal of Parliament to create an army in permanence. The laws establishing the English army had to be renewed periodically, so that it was possible at any time for the representatives of the people to draw the teeth of the military force if an attempt should be made to use that force for tyrannical ends. But the Germans, as has already been explained, lacked democratic training and perceptions. Germany was moreover in a uniquely dangerous position. No other great power had such an unfavorable geographical situation. On the west was France, and there were thousands of Germans who had been told by their fathers the story of the Napoleonic slavery. On the east was Russia, stronghold of absolutism, with inexhaustible natural resources and a population more than twice Germany's. Great Britain commanded the seas, and Germany had to import or starve.

It cannot fairly be doubted that, placed in a similar situation, the most pacific nation would have armed itself to the teeth. But--and this is all-important--it is difficult to imagine that such other nation would have become militaristic.

The stock answer of German apologists to the accusations regarding "militarism" as exemplified in Prussia-Germany has been the assertion that France spent more money _per capita_ on her military establishment than did Germany. This statement is true, but those making it overlooked the real nature of the charge against them. They did not realize that militarism, as the world saw it in their country, was not concrete, but abstract; it was, in brief, a state of mind. It could have existed equally well if the army had been but a quarter as large, and it did not exist in France, which, in proportion to her population, had a larger army than Germany. It exalted the profession of arms above all else; it divided the people into two classes, military and civilians. Its spirit was illustrated strikingly by the fact that when Wilhelm II ascended the throne, his first act was to issue a proclamation to the army, but it was not until three days later that his proclamation to the people was issued. Militarism gave the youngest lieutenant at court precedence over venerable high civilian officials.

The spirit of militarism permeated even to the remotest corners of daily activity in all walks of life. The gatekeeper at a railway crossing must stand at attention, with his red flag held in a prescribed manner, while the train is passing. A Berlin mail-carrier was punished for saluting a superior with his left hand, instead of with the right. A street-car conductor was fined for driving his car between two wagons of a military transport. This was in peace times, and the transport was conveying hay. That the passengers in the car would otherwise have had to lose much time was of no consequence; nothing could be permitted to interfere with anything hallowed by connection with the military establishment. When Herr von Bethmann Hollweg was appointed Imperial Chancellor it was necessary to give him military rank, since he had never held it. He was created a general, for it could not be suffered that a mere civilian should occupy the highest post in the empire next to the Kaiser. The Kaiser rarely showed himself in public in civilian attire.

It was but natural that the members of the officer-corps held an exalted opinion of their own worth and dignity. Militarism is everywhere tarred with the same stick, and army officers, if freed from effective civil control, exhibit in all lands the same tendency to arbitrariness and to a scorn and contempt for mere civilians. Such release from control is seen in other lands, however, only in time of war, whereas it was a permanently existing state of affairs in Germany. It worked more powerfully there than would have been the case anywhere else, for all the country's traditions and history were of a nature to exalt military service. Ravaged by war for centuries, Germany's greatness had been built up by the genius of her army leaders and the bravery and loyalty of her soldiers. Hundreds of folksongs and poems known to every German child glorified war and its heroes. The youthful Theodor Koerner, writing his _Gebet vor der Schlacht_ (Prayer before the Battle) by the light of the bivouac-fires a few hours before the battle in which he was killed, makes a picture that must appeal even to persons who abhor war. How much greater, then, must its appeal have been to a military folk!

The German officer was encouraged to consider himself of better clay than the ordinary civilian. His "honor" was more delicate than the honor of women. It was no infrequent occurrence for an officer, willing to right by marriage a woman whom he had wronged, to be refused permission either because she did not have a dowry corresponding to his rank, or because she was of a lower social class. Duelling among officers was encouraged, and to step on an officer's foot, or even to stare too fixedly at him _(fixieren)_ was an insult calling for a duel. An officer's credit was good everywhere. His word was as readily accepted as a civilian's bond, and honesty requires that it be said that his trust was rarely misplaced. His exaggerated ideas of honor led frequently to an arrogant conduct toward civilians, and occasionally to assaults upon offenders, which in a few instances took the form of a summary sabering of the unfortunate victim.[6]

[6] Some travelers and a certain class of correspondents have unduly exaggerated the conditions referred to. They have pictured murders of this sort as of frequent occurrence, and, if they could be believed, German officers made it a custom to require women in the street cars to surrender their seats to them. In many years' residence in Germany the author learned of but two cases of the murder of civilians by officers, and he never saw a display of rudeness toward a woman. The German officer almost invariably responded in kind to courtesy, but he did expect and require deference from civilians.

The crassest of the outward, non-political manifestations of militarism in recent years was the Zabern affair. A young lieutenant had sabered a crippled shoemaker for a real or fancied offense against military rules. The townspeople made a demonstration against the officer, and the colonel commanding the regiment stationed at Zabern locked a number of the civilians in the cellar of the barracks and kept them there all night. This was too much even for a docile German Reichstag, and an excited debate was followed by the passing of a vote of censure on a government which, through the mouths of its Chancellor and War Minister, had justified the colonel's actions. The colonel and the lieutenant were convicted upon trial and adequate sentences were imposed upon them, but the convictions were significantly set aside upon appeal and both escaped punishment. It was in connection with this affair that the German Crown Prince earned the censure of the soberer German elements by sending an encouraging telegram to the arbitrary colonel.

Militarism, in the aspects discussed, was a purely internal affair and concerned only the German people themselves. But there was another aspect, and it was this that made it a menace to the peace of the world and to true democracy.

The very possession of an admirable weapon is a constant temptation to use it. This temptation becomes stronger in proportion as it springs with inclination. The Germans of the last fifty years were not a bellicose people. They had suffered too greatly from wars within the recollection of millions of men and women still living. On the other hand, they were familiar with war and the thought of it did not invoke the same repugnant fears and apprehensions as among less sorely tested peoples. The mothers of every generation except the youngest knew what it meant to see husbands, sons and brothers don the King's coat and march away behind blaring bands; they knew the anxiety of waiting for news after the battle, and the grief that comes with the announcement of a loved one's death, and they considered it dimly, if they philosophized about it at all, as one of the things that must be and against which it were unavailing to contend. But the officers as a whole were bellicose. The reasons are multifold. It is inherent in the profession that officers generally are inclined to desire war, if for no other reason, than because it means opportunities for advancement and high honors. Beyond this, the German officer's training and traditions taught him that war was in itself a glorious thing.

In trying to understand the influences that dominated the government of Germany in its relations to foreign countries it must be clearly realized and remembered that the real rulers of Germany came from the caste that had for nearly two centuries furnished the majority of the members of the officer-corps. The Emperor-King, assuming to rule by the grace of God, in reality ruled by the grace of the old nobility and landed gentry of Prussia, from whose ranks he sprang. This had been aptly expressed eighty years earlier by the poet Chamisso, in whose _Nachtwaechterlied_ appear the lines:

_Und der Koenig absolut,_ _Wenn er unseren Willen tut!_

(Let the King be absolute so long as he does our will.) It was inevitable that the views of this class should determine the views of government, and the only remarkable thing about the situation was that some of the men who, by the indirect mandate of this caste, were responsible for the conduct of the government, were less bellicose and more pacific than their mandate-givers. There were some men who, infected with the virus of militarism, dreamed of the _Welt-Imperium_, the eventual domination of the world by Germany, to be attained by peaceful methods if possible, but under the threatening shadow of the empire's mighty military machine, which could be used if necessary. Yet even in their own caste they formed a minority.

Such, in brief outline, was Germany--an empire built on the bayonets of the world's greatest and most efficient army and administered by tens of thousands of loyal and efficient civil servants. How was it possible that it could be overthrown?

In the last analysis it was not overthrown; it was destroyed from within by a cancer that had been eating at its vitals for eighty years. And the seeds of this cancer, by the strange irony of fate, were sown in Germany and cultivated by Germans.

The cancer was Socialism, or Social-Democracy, as it is termed in Germany.