The history of World War II and the reasons for fighting the aggressive armies of Nazi Germany are known and understood by many in the world today. The origins of World War I are different; for many, the reason for the outbreak of the Great War is shrouded in mystery.
The spark that set off the fiery conflict in Europe is credited to the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria. But the beginning of the war cannot be attributed merely to this act of terrorism. It was also the result of a stunning failure of diplomacy, with each action provoking a counteraction to the point allies and agreements fell like dominoes until all the world was engulfed in conflict.
100 years ago today, the last chance for peace was Belgium. Germany wanted assurances that Belgium would be neutral in a conflict against France, and they asked the Belgian authorities to allow the German army to move on France through Belgium. To do so would have betrayed Europe.
Pulitzer-prize winning author, Barbara Tuchman describes the scene when Belgium received Germany’s ultimatum:
Germany had received “reliable information,” the note began, of a proposed advance by the French along the route Givet-Namur, “leaving no doubt of France’s intention to advance against Germany through Belgian territory.” (As the Belgians had seen no evidence of French movement toward Namur, for the excellent reason that there was none, the charge failed to impress them.)
Germany, the note continued, being unable to count on the Belgian Army halting the French advance, was required by “the dictate of self-preservation” to “anticipate this hostile attack.” She would view it with “deepest regret” if Belgium should regard her entrance on Belgian soil as “an act of hostility against herself.”
If Belgium should, on the other hand, adopt “a benevolent neutrality,” Germany would bind herself to “evacuate her territory as soon as peace shall have been concluded,” to pay for any damages caused by German troops, and to “guarantee at the conclusion of peace the sovereign rights and independence of the kingdom.” In the original the sentence had continued, “and to favor with the greatest goodwill any possible claims of Belgium for compensation at the expense of France.” At the last moment Below was instructed to delete this bribe.
If Belgium opposed Germany’s passage through her territory, the note concluded, she would be regarded as an enemy, and future relations with her would be left to “the decision of arms.” An “unequivocal answer” was demanded within twelve hours.
“A long, tragic silence of several minutes” followed the reading, Bassompierre recalled, as each man in the room thought of the choice that faced his country. Small in size and young in independence, Belgium clung more fiercely to independence for that reason. But no one in the room needed to be told what the consequences of a decision to defend it would be. Their country would be subjected to attack, their homes to destruction, their people to reprisals by a force ten times their size with no doubt of the outcome to themselves, who were in the immediate pathway of the Germans, whatever the ultimate outcome of the war.
If, on the contrary, they were to yield to the German demand, they would be making Belgium an accessory to the attack on France as well as a violator of her own neutrality, besides opening her to German occupation with small likelihood that a victorious Germany would remember to withdraw. They would be occupied either way; to yield would be to lose honor too.
“If we are to be crushed,” Bassompierre recorded their sentiment, “let us be crushed gloriously.” In 1914 “glory” was a word spoken without embarrassment, and honor a familiar concept that people believed in.
Van der Elst broke the silence in the room. “Well, sir, are we ready?” he asked the Premier.
“Yes, we are ready,” De Broqueville answered. “Yes,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself, “except for one thing—we have not yet got our heavy artillery.” Only in the last year had the government obtained increased military appropriations from a reluctant Parliament conditioned to neutrality. The order for heavy guns had been given to the German firm of Krupp, which, not surprisingly, had delayed deliveries.
One hour of the twelve had already gone by. While their colleagues began rounding up all Ministers for a Council of State to be held at nine o’clock, Bassompierre and Gaiffier started working on a draft of the reply. They had no need to ask each other what it would be. Leaving the task to them, Premier de Broqueville went to the palace to inform the King.
