The Thirty Years’ War was a conflict fought across parts of Europe from 1618 to 1648. Here, Matthew Gentile considers the important role that mercenaries played during that war. He considers the Swedish use of mercenaries, why people became mercenaries, and how they behaved during the war.

A painting of the death of King Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden at the Battle of Lutzen in 1632. Painting by Carl Wahlbom.

Much has been written about the Thirty Years’ War, a grandiose conflict that engulfed Europe in flames during the first half of the seventeenth century. The war featured heroes and villains pitted against one another, men such as Gustavus Adolphus and Albrecht von Wallenstein, and was riddled with more plot twists along the way than the greatest of all Shakespearean tragedies. While it has been covered endlessly in academic texts there still remains more to be written on the subject. This article will focus on the importance of mercenary forces amongst the ranks of the more than dozen combatants in this bloody struggle. I will discuss what factors drew a man of the early modern world to a life as a mercenary soldier, cultural conceptions of the mercenary of this world, and the changing conditions in Europe that allowed the mercenary to thrive.

 

A conflict of realpolitik

Beginning with the infamous Defenestration of Prague in 1618 and concluding with the Peace of Westphalia three decades later in 1648 the Thirty Years’ War marked a shift in the political attitudes of the states of Europe. While differences of religious belief set the first sparks to the flame of this struggle the war soon devolved into a conflict of realpolitik. Old grievances were brought back to light and used to push current political agendas. Many states of Europe found their governmental apparatuses to be increasingly bloated due to the high costs of the war.[1] While nations such as France and Spain had more than enough able bodied men that could fight manpower ran thin in smaller nations and a strain was placed on many states throughout the continent. As a result of this and the prolonged state of war in Europe the age of the mercenary was reaching its peak. By the start of the war the common mercenary officer “had become semi-permanent heads of financial-military enterprises, operating in the name of states.”[2] It was of no importance if the officer hailed from the land for which they were currently fighting. All that was needed was a man of competence to command the mass ranks of mercenary troops.

 

Sweden

Of all the nations who became entangled in this far-flung struggle for the heart of Europe the one that depended the most on a backbone of mercenary forces was Sweden. What problems plagued Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden until his untimely passing at the Battle of Lützen in 1632, and the Swedes to the point that they would need to depend on foreign mercenaries to make up a bulk of their fighting force? Firstly, the population of Sweden in the early seventeenth century was estimated to be around 1,300,000 people. The Swedish population was dwarfed in comparison to some of the more densely populated states of Europe. If the armies of Gustavus were made up entirely of Swedish men they would be swept from each and every field upon which they fought. Secondly, the Swedish army of the previous century had suffered several humiliating defeats and was considered a force made up of ill trained peasants. Adolphus studied the mistakes of his forefathers and decided to depend instead on the ranks of mercenaries to make up his force. Where then did Adolphus turn to in order to create the backbone of his widely hailed army? Adolphus was dependent mainly on mercenaries of German origin, many of whom were Protestant and thus willing to help with his campaigns against the Catholic princes of the Habsburg lands, and on Scottish mercenaries. Gustavus held the mercenary Scots in such high esteem for their martial abilities to the point that he viewed them not as servants, but as friends in his employ.[3] It should be noted that the use of mercenaries was common by both Catholics and Protestants alike, often with these religious distinctions becoming less important as the war went on. The Danish, Habsburg's and French alike relied on these men.

 

Purpose in life

What were the conditions of early modern Europe like that would make a man want to leave behind his life and take up arms in a foreign war as a mercenary? Population growth that was owed in part to European colonialism from the early sixteenth century onwards had led to underemployment across the continent, and while there was a massive amount of new sources of food shipped daily from the new world wages remained stagnant.[4] Most of the men who made up the ranks of these mercenary forces were men from the lower classes who were searching for greater purposes in their lives. War offered a way out for young men who felt stuck in place due to their economic status, and it always paid well.[5] In his work, Europe at War: 1600-1650, David Maland opined that “The poverty of European society which made it easy to recruit soldiers made it difficult for governments and commanders to maintain them. The only way to hold men together in these circumstances was to unleash them upon open country or against a town.”[6] To the generals and kings of Europe the frustrations of the impoverished proved to be a double edged sword. And while these ruling elites certainly looked down on the acts of violence committed by men in their command they felt it better to occur in foreign lands where war and great devastation was already occurring than to have such events boil up into greater hostilities in their own lands.                                                                                                                                                                           

If the word mercenary is mentioned in conversation the image of a marauding foreign soldier is often the first one that will jump into your mind. Mercenaries are portrayed as the unprofessional outsiders, groups of rag-tag men who only act on their impulses to commit mass violence, in comparison to the upright national citizen who is doing his duty and fighting to protect his country. While many portrayals of the common mercenary are correct, they were more than prone to committing violent acts, aspects of this assumption are brought into scrutiny by several historians. In Peter H. Wilson’s work The Thirty Years War: Europe’s Tragedy Wilson writes that past historians wrongly assumed that the “volunteers or conscripts serving their country… were inherently superior soldiers.”[7] While the volunteer from the Palatinate who joined the ranks of the fighting masses would be swelled with pride in defense of his homeland he would make no match during pitched conflict against the battle hardened mercenary veteran who fought on even when defeat was imminent. One such example was the Battle of Nördlingen, which was fought between Sweden and the Habsburg’s in 1634. The battle saw an outnumbered Swedish army that was dependent on their mercenary ranks. A crack group of German and Scottish mercenaries were able to break through the Habsburg front lines in the early stages of the battle; however as the tide turned against them hordes of these soldiers were cut down by the Habsburg forces.[8] While money motivated many a mercenary their honor was placed above all.

 

Professionals

The mercenary soldiers of the Thirty Years’ War were professionals at work as long as they were paid. The threat of violence from mercenary forces became an issue at the tail end of the war. As the conflict had existed in a prolonged state for several decades many states began to feel their treasuries dry up. As the coffers of Sweden, Spain and the other combatants drew thin mercenaries would become hostile. The aftermath of missed or late payments were often acts of mutiny committed by the mercenaries against the states who did not pay them or acts of violence during the war.[9] Much like striking workers the threat of poverty drove mercenaries to commit extreme acts. One such act involved the town of Linden in Germany. Linden, a small village in Franconia, was met with the wrath of mercenaries under Swedish employ in the winter of 1634. The mercenary forces had demanded both food and wine from the village, which at the time consisted of no more than thirteen cottages. When the villagers refused, the mercenaries responded in kind by stealing their provisions and raping a woman, known as Frau Rosch, before their violence left the village uninhabited.[10] However, when paid these mercenaries relied not on the plunder of poor farmlands to continue their campaigning, but rather extensive systems of trade and contracts with suppliers for their weapons, their clothing and their food supplies.[11]

The mercenary is often forgotten in the annals of history. During the Thirty Years’ War they were an important part of the fighting forces of a multitude of Europe’s greatest armies. While they committed horrible acts of violence these men also gained the respect of important commanders such as Gustavus Adolphus. While the coming centuries would see their role in the armies of Europe reduced the Thirty Years’ War marked the peak of the mercenary.

 

What do you think of mercenaries in the Thirty Years’ War? Let us know below.


[1] Greengrass, Mark. Christendom Destroyed: Europe 1517-1648. Penguin Books, 523. 

[2] Ibid., 525. 

[3] Donagan, Barbara. War In England: 1642-1649. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. 49. 

[4] Wilson, P.H. The Thirty Years War: Europe’s Tragedy. Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. 330.

[5] Ibid., 330.

[6] Maland, David. Europe at War: 1600-1650. London, Macmillan, 1980. 86. 

[7] Ibid., 827-828. 

[8] Wilson, P.H. The Thirty Years’ War. 547. 

[9] Maland, David. Europe at War. 404. 

[10] Davies, Norman. Europe: A History. The Bodley Head. 565. 

[11] Greengrass, Mark. Christendom Destroyed. 111. 

References

Davies, Norman. (2014). Europe: A History. The Bodley Head. 

Donagan, Barbara. War in England: 1642-1649. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010.

Gardiner, S. R. (2014). The Thirty Years' War, 1618-1648. First Rate Publishers. 

Greengrass, Mark. (2015). Christendom Destroyed: Europe 1517-1648. Penguin Books.

Maland, David. Europe at War, 1600-1650. London: Macmillan, 1980.

Parrott, David. The Business of War: Military Enterprise and Military Revolution in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 2014. 

Wilson, Peter H. (2011). The Thirty Years War: Europe's Tragedy. Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. 

Spiritualism was a religious movement that gained momentum in America during the mid-1800s. The movement essentially held that people could communicate with people have died – and enabled people to do that through mediums. Angie Grandstaff explains.

The Fox sisters.

Spiritualists didn’t build churches or have preachers. They believed we could communicate with those who have died. Spiritualists would hold meetings in homes or community buildings where lectures would be given or séances would be conducted so people could speak to their dead loved ones. There were demonstrations by mediums and other sensitive individuals who would bring forth the dead, who would communicate via knocks on the walls or floors.   

Spiritualism may conjure up many skeptical thoughts for us today, but this was a real movement that millions of people wholeheartedly believed and participated in. Spiritualism has been considered a religion, a fad, a hoax but whatever our thoughts it was a national phenomenon during the mid-1800s.

 

Why Spiritualism?

Why did Spiritualism become such a phenomenon during the mid-1800s? First, we need to look at the two previous centuries. The 16th and 17th centuries in America were dominated by a very puritanical form of Christianity. Anyone who practiced anything like Spiritualism during that time would have been risking their life. It is estimated that thousands of people were executed for witchcraft in Europe and America during those centuries. Life was very rural, harsh, and rigid and people were held to very strict mores. It was a matter of life or death.

America was drastically changing in the mid-1800s. There was more industrialization and urbanization, which meant cities were growing and work was evolving. Inventions and science were transforming how people looked at the world around them. Immigrants were bringing in new religious practices and beliefs into American towns. There was literature and scientific discoveries that challenged religious beliefs and the Bible. America was on the verge of a Civil War and tensions were high. People were looking for assurance because life seemed uncertain.

Another big factor for the rise of Spiritualism was that people were not as comforted by traditional Christian beliefs when loved ones died. The death of children especially led parents to seek comfort in other places besides their community church. Spiritualism offered grieving people solace while coping with their loss. All these factors helped create an opening for Spiritualism to rise.

 

Ghostly Images

Invention and science were factors in the popularity of Spiritualism in the mid-1800s. Some even saw Spiritualism as a scientific religion. The invention of photography played into Spiritualism beautifully. This brand-new technology fascinated and terrified at the same time. Photography allowed us to see the unseen or what we are unable to see from our perspective. Photographs taken from hot air balloons gave people their first aerial images of towns and cities. Civil War photographs showed death and destruction on a scale that few had ever seen.

There were plenty of photographs that were produced during this time that made it look like spirits were revealed through this scientific process of capturing images on paper. William H. Mumler was a well-known spirit photographer during the mid-1800s. He produced portraits that had ghostly images in the background or near the person being photographed. Former First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln was one of Mumler’s clients. She visited him after her husband’s murder. His photograph of her had an image of Abraham Lincoln behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Whether this was a scam or not, it gave many comfort to think their dead loved ones were near even if they couldn’t see them. These pictures were published in newspapers and Spiritualism benefited despite critics and proof that some of these pictures were manipulated. 

 

The Impact of the Civil War

Prior to the Civil War, when a loved one died the family handled the process at home. The dying would be surrounded by family and friends. Wakes and funerals were held in homes allowing people the chance to grieve together. The Civil War changed that for thousands of families.  It is estimated that 750,000 men died in the Civil War - hundreds of thousands of families who were unable to be with their loved ones when they passed. They never saw the body. They had no closure. Death on this scale hadn’t happened before. This great loss and immense sorrow of so many families contributed to the rise and appeal of Spiritualism. Spiritualism gave someone a chance to speak to their loved one or hear from a medium that their loved one was at peace. This was a great comfort to grieving people.   

 

The Fox Sisters

Many historians attribute the birth of Spiritualism in America to the Fox Sisters. Maggie and Kate Fox lived in New York. In 1848, when they were 14 and 11 years old, they relayed some strange experiences to their parents. The two sisters heard knocks on furniture and walls while in their bedrooms at night. The girls demonstrated this for their parents and neighbors. They would ask questions and noises would come in response. Everyone was mystified by these young girls’ abilities to speak to the dead. Their fame and demonstrations catapulted Spiritualism into a phenomenon. Maggie and Kate were joined by their older sister Leah and they spent their lives working as mediums. They were invited to do demonstrations and hold séances where they communicated with the dead.

The sisters had a falling out as adults, which led to Maggie coming forward to claim it was all a hoax. She revealed the very first spirit communications in their New York bedroom was a prank. They used an apple on a string to produce the spirit noises. She said at their public demonstrations, they would use their own knuckles, joints and toes. A year later, Maggie recanted all of this, but her reputation was damaged beyond repair. Despite the way things ended for the Fox Sisters, their contribution to the Spiritualist movement was profound and undeniable. Their work as mediums led many others to take up the profession as well, which led to the growth and popularity of Spiritualism around the country.

 

Emma Hardinge Britten

The Fox Sisters may have been the beginning of Spiritualism in America, but Emma Hardinge Britten was the religion’s biggest advocate. Emma was born in England in 1823. From a young age, she demonstrated talent as a singer, musician and actress. Her first trip to America was for a role on Broadway in New York City where she met Spiritualist, Horace Day. This changed the trajectory of Emma’s life. She became a Spiritualist and began work as a medium and trance lecturer. One of her most famous spirit communications was with a deceased sailor who had died when his ship had sunk a few weeks earlier. Emma knew details about the ship and the sinking that only someone with firsthand knowledge would know.

During her life, she traveled extensively in America, Britain, Australia and New Zealand to promote Spiritualism and she used her many talents to do so. She wrote books on Spiritualism and was considered the leading historian on the subject. Her writings included guides on how to conduct a séance and how to investigate mediums for fraud. Emma was a born entertainer and used these skills during her demonstrations, lectures and séances. She also used her platform as a Spiritualist to share her views on slavery, the plight of the poor and women’s rights. Her work and her philosophy created the foundation for modern Spiritualism.    

 

Séances in Victorian America  

Séances were a big part of Spiritualism. Television and the big screen have given us many images of séances. People sitting around a table in a darkened room, maybe holding hands while spooky noises fill the air and tables levitate. This is much like what happened during a séance in Victorian America. The many factors that led to the rise of Spiritualism in America made the public believe in the abilities of mediums and the legitimacy of séances. People truly wanted to believe we could connect with the spirit world. Unfortunately, many unscrupulous people used séances to con people out of money during the mid and late 1800s. Many mediums were exposed for their fraud, but it didn’t stop the popularity of séances.

The reason that so many mediums could conduct fraudulent séances was mainly because there was no electric light at this time. Rooms would be lit by oil lamps or candles. So, the scene is perfectly set for trickery in rooms with low light or even darkness. Participants might even be encouraged to keep their eyes closed. They would be told not to touch the medium or any spirit summoned because it could kill the medium. There would be noises, a spirit manifested into the room or tapping on shoulders. Many mediums had accomplices to help them create ghostly noises and manifestations. Some mediums used specially constructed cabinets that could produce music or allow their accomplices to come and go during the séance. Oil of phosphorus would be used to make things glow in the dark. Victorian séances were a source of entertainment for some, hope or proof of scientific advancement for others. Once electric light and handheld lights were available, those who conducted fraudulent séances needed to look for other ways to entertain their attendees.

Spiritualism became less popular in the 20th century and there are many skeptics and con artists surrounding this movement and religion. But there is no denying its lasting impact. Mediums, clairvoyants and séances are still popular today. Everything from haunted houses to Ouija boards to the psychic hotline can be attributed to the rise of Spiritualism in the 19th century. Even in 21st century America, people still desire to be comforted during grief and to connect with and understand those things we can’t see.  

 

What do you think of these amazing women? Let us know below.

You can read Angie’s article on 5 Amazing Female Businesses in 19th Century America here.

Angie Grandstaff is a writer who loves to write about history, books, and self-development.

References

Manseau, P. (2018). The Apparitionists: A Tale of Phantoms, Fraud, Photography, and the Man Who Captured Lincoln’s Ghost. Mariner Books, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Nartonis, D. K. (2010, June 1). The Rise of 19th‐century American Spiritualism, 1854–1873. Wiley Online Library.  https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1468-5906.2010.01515.x.

Gramson, H. (2013, March 6). The Science of Seance: The Scientific Theory of the Spiritualist Movement in Victorian America. https://www.pacificu.edu/sites/default/files/documents/Hannah%20Gramson.pdf

Howe, L.A. (2015, November 13). Spirited Pioneer: The Life of Emma Hardinge Britten. FIU Digital Commons. https://digitalcommons.fiu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3474&context=etd

Walton, G. (2017, February 1). The Victorian Seancehttps://www.geriwalton.com/the-victorian-seance/

Posted
AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones

The Ukrainian violinist Igor Davidovich Oistrakh, who died in August 2021, was one of the greatest violinists of the 20th century. Born in Odessa in 1931 to the pianist Tamara Rotaryova and violinist David Fyodorovich Oistrakh (Eustrach), he belonged to a family of violinists regarded as some of the finest in the history of the instrument. His father is also regarded as one of the top two or three masters of the instrument of all time. Eugenia Russell explains.

20211012 Bundesarchiv_Bild_183-45930-0004,_Berlin,_Gastspiel_David_und_Igor_Oistrach.jpg

Image above: Igor Oistrakh (right) in 1957. He is with his father David (left) and conductor Franz Konwitschny. Source: Bundesarchiv, Bild 183-45930-0004 / Zimontkowski / CC-BY-SA 3.0, available here.

David Oistrakh, was the son of a Jewish merchant and amateur violinist. The Oistrakhs were merchants of the second guild, the middle guild in Russia whose scope was limited to domestic trade. As well as restrictions on movement, Jews had to pay an additional tax and a fee appropriate to their guild. Music was one of the few other professions open to Jews in Soviet Russia and David’s father had given him a tiny violin as a small child to get him started. David’s burgeoning talent meant he was able to support his family for several years as an itinerant violinist before he started gaining recognition. During his later career he established close friendships with other musicians of Jewish descent such as Isaac Stern and Nathan Milstein, as well as the poet Iosif Brodsky and Victor Hochhauser, who became the impresario for David and Igor, introducing them to western audiences.

Father and son shared the same teacher, Pyotr Stolyarsky, founder of the Odessa School of violin playing, who fostered a deep love of music in them. In addition to his formal training at the Central Music School in Moscow, after which he made his first public performance in 1948, and at the Moscow Conservatory (1949-55) Igor received invaluable tuition from his father whenever he found the time. In 1952, Igor won the International Wieniawski competition in Poland, and this opened up opportunities for giving concerts outside of the Soviet bloc. In 1953, he gave his first concert in the West in London, delighting his audience with the performances of concertos by Beethoven and Khachaturian that would establish him as a soloist in his own right. The Oistrakhs were not limited to the violin, they were also gifted viola players and conductors, and often Igor performed under the baton of his father. David and Igor championed several works by composers who wrote idiomatically for the violin and naturally, many Russian composers. The family collaborations in different combinations spanned three generations with the inclusion of Igor’s son Valery (Valerio). For example, Igor played violin and David the viola in Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante and amongst their collaborations on two violins were Henryk Wieniawski’s Études-caprices, Pablo de Sarasate’s Navarra, Eugène Ysaÿ’s Poème, and Prokofiev’s Sonata for Two Violins.

 

King David and Prince Igor

When playing together, David and Igor complemented each other, each bringing their musicianship to the fore. Igor, known as Garik to his friends, was noted for his cool, modernist approach to performance: always controlled and never over-emotional. His playing is characterized by precision and clarity. By contrast, his father David, noted for the richness of his tone, has been described as ‘seraphic’. Though Igor had a different approach from his father on the concert platform the pair had to forge a common path in Stalin’s Soviet Union in order to navigate the world stage. They achieved that goal together, becoming known to music lovers as ‘King David and Prince Igor’.

Igor particularly shone in the Bach Double Violin Concerto, which he had begun playing with his father in 1947, performed by the pair in London and Manchester in 1961. They recorded the work several times, most notably in 1959 in Moscow (Moscow Chamber Orchestra/Rudolf Barshai) and for Deutsche Grammophon the same year along with the Vivaldi double violin concerto. Igor repeated the feat with Valery at the Barbican Centre to mark the 50th anniversary of his London debut. Igor and Valery have performed Bach’s triple violin concerto with Yehudi Menuhin, and Igor further collaborated with Menuhin on Bartok’s Duo for two violins. On three occasions Igor attended the music festival founded by the great Catalan cellist Pablo Casals in Prades in the French Pyrenees – and in 1950 appearing alongside him. One of his greatest accomplishments was the recording of the complete Mozart and Beethoven Sonatas for violin and piano accompanied by his wife, Natalia Zertsalova.

Igor pursued a vocation as a teacher alongside his career as a concert artist, beginning as his father’s assistant at the Moscow Conservatoire where he eventually became a professor. After the fall of the USSR he moved to Brussels where he became professor at the Koninklijk Conservatorium in 1996.

 

Soviet era challenges

The Oistrakh family’s Jewish roots were to influence the delicate artistic balance they had to strike living under Communist rule. During the tense atmosphere of the Cold War, while pursuing their musical ambitions - playing some cutting edge music and becoming famous in the west – they had to appease the Union of Soviet Composers and its General Secretary, Tikhon Khrennikov, favored by Stalin. Khrennikov was a known opponent of ‘rootless cosmopolitans’, and especially intellectual Jews. Notwithstanding the many challenges, the Oistrakhs remained loyal to their country and did not defect to the West like many other Soviet-era musicians. In 1994, Igor collaborated with several other musicians including Yehudi Menuhin, Mstislav Rostropovich, Gennady Rozhdestvensky and Gidon Kremer on a documentary about his father’s life that reveals much of the ‘unspoken private suffering’ of their life and times.

 

What do you think of the death of Igor Oistrakh? Let us know below.

Posted
AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones

Wernher von Braun came to America from Germany after World War II as part of Operation Paperclip. He went on to play a major role in the Cold War’s Space Race with his expertise of rockets. However, views of von Braun are being reassessed as the terrible role he played in Nazi Germany has come to the fore in recent years. Victor Gamma looks at whether von Braun was a war criminal, whether he was an Anti-Semite, and then concludes the series.

Read part 1 on von Braun’s life here, part 2 on the evidence here, and part 3 on von Braun’s beliefs here.

20211010 Kennedy_vonbraun_19may63_02.jpg

Above image: Von Braun with Jon F. Kennedy at Redstone Arsenal (Alabama) in 1963.

Does von Braun indeed fit the definition of a war criminal? The Nuremberg tribunal formulated three types of crimes that were punishable under law. The only one von Braun could possibly be accused of is the use of prisoners for labor contrary to international conventions and abusive conditions endured by the laborers, including slave labor; Article 6 (b) “Violations of the laws and customs of war, involving murder, ill-treatment and deportation to slave labor of the civilian population of or in occupied countries.” Count 3 of War Crimes “mistreatment of prisoners of war or civilian populations” and Count 4, Crimes Against Humanity, murder, extermination, enslavement of civilian populations; persecution on the basis of racial, religious or political grounds.” 

A conviction on any above count, though, needs documentary or eyewitness testimony. Simply working at the location where atrocities took place is not enough. For example, at the Nuremberg Trials, Hitler’s Chief of Operations, Alfred Jodl, was convicted due to, among other things, his actual signature on documents such as the infamous “Commissar Order.” This order directed German troops to summarily execute anyone identified as a Soviet Commissar. The closest thing to a von Braun “smoking gun” is a letter from November 1944 in which he advised the use of SS prisoners to replace civilians working on production in order to keep up the pace of the work. This letter clearly implicates him as working with the system in some administrative capacity and he could have been charged at least with complicity. He was not ordering atrocities, but when von Braun wrote this request, he knew full well that atrocities existed, and the horrific conditions of which he observed. He was officially encouraging the employment of slave labor.

 

Survivors

Long after the engineer’s death, some prisoners who had labored at Mittelwerk-Dora, came forward to finger the creator of the V-2. Some claimed that he engaged in brutality towards prisoners or at least approved of it. In 1995 a French resistance fighter named Guy Morand testified that von Braun ordered a prisoner flogged after an alleged sabotage attempt. Another French prisoner named Robert Cazabonne claimed that von Braun stood by and watched as prisoners were tortured by suspending them by chains. Another survivor, Adam Cabala, accused von Braun of visiting Buchenwald in order to select slave laborers. Some have attempted to contradict the engineer’s claims never to have witnessed a dead body. Survivors have stated that dead bodies were piled up daily near the ambulance shed at Mittelwerk. Von Braun had to pass this area during visits and so “must have” seen these bodies. Tom Gehrels, former Dutch resistance fighter, interviewed several Dora survivors who claimed to have witnessed von Braun involved in numerous atrocities. In such cases, the accusations did not come forth until over half a century since their occurrence. Von Braun was a world celebrity by 1960 and yet these survivors said nothing for decades. It is unclear why the Dora victims waited so long. The Staatliches Gymnasium Friedberg had borne the name of von Braun for over 30 years before certain individuals, including at least one Dora survivor, decided it was inappropriate. Some survivors assert that the memories were too painful to give them utterance. In addition to the amount of time passed, some are second-hand and are uncorroborated. Moreover some may be a case of mistaken identity. In other words, the witnesses were not sure. In order to bring a conviction the evidence must be beyond doubt. “Must have” does not meet the criteria. The prosecution always has the burden of proof. By these standards, von Braun would probably not have been convicted of contributing to the atrocities himself. But the space-obsessed leader of Germany’s rocket program could have been convicted of using slave labor: “a crime against humanity.”

 

Anti-Semite?

Was von Braun an anti-Semite? The records show no sign of it. He had very amicable relations with anyone he worked with in the defense and space programs beginning immediately after the end of the war, including those of Jewish extraction such as Abraham Silverstein and Fred Singer. It is an interesting fact that American’s victory in the Space Race was largely a collaboration of a number of Jewish and ex-Nazi scientists. In an unlikely collaboration illustrative of the great American melting pot, von Braun, the former Nazi, worked with the Jewish engineer Abraham Silverstein to make critical decisions for the Mercury and Apollo Projects. At one point the two men disagreed over certain technical aspects of the rocket design. Ultimately Silverstein’s vision won out and was used for the Saturn rockets that took astronauts to the moon. Rather than display animosity, von Braun gave full credit to Silverstein for the program’s success and even sent him a congratulatory message when Silverstein’s hydrogen-fuel approach proved successful.

 

Repentance?

But what about von Braun’s apparent lack of repentance? A chief complaint against the rocket scientist is what some have called a “cavalier” attitude about his Nazi past. It is true that he never officially or publicly denounced the Third Reich. Von Braun himself clearly saw his war service as a patriotic duty, not war crimes. In his words, “I have very deep and sincere regret for the victims of the V-2 rockets, but there were victims on both sides - A war is a war, and when my country is at war, my duty is to help win that war.” In 1966, he related to Paris Match “I felt ashamed that things like this were possible in Germany, even under a war situation where national survival was at stake.” But this apology was only issued after protests by Dora camp survivors, who were incensed by the laudatory treatment the space pioneer was receiving at the time. As to the use of rockets against civilian targets, von Braun defensively asserted, “We wouldn’t have treated your atomic scientists as war criminals and I didn’t expect to be treated as one.”

 

Conclusion

The question then remains, should Wernher von Braun be honored as a hero or erased from every public acknowledgment? As we have seen, the harsh condemnation of him as an atrocity-committing monster smiling with joy over each deadly impact of his V-2 is quite inaccurate. This has often been based on lack of knowledge and is unfair. On the other hand, the kid-glove treatment he long received, despite his awareness of atrocities and his complicity in the system must be taken into account in our discussion of the man.

From a practical standpoint, our treatment of the man’s legacy will depend much on society’s value system at that moment in time. In the post-war years it was more important to win the Space Race and keep ahead of the Soviets than to punish or condemn von Braun and his team for past misdeeds. Most people do not share Tom Lehrer's view that the moon landing was relatively unimportant. If it were, then perhaps we should focus more on von Braun’s lamentable human rights record. But if we view his post-war role as critical to our national survival and the fate of the free world, then we may overlook his earlier failings and view his contributions as a godsend. The Space Race was an undeniable turning point in global history. The entire world watched to see the results. Heroics in space, especially manned spaceflight, captured the attention of the world, including those newly independent nations the Soviet Union was courting for communism. The beaming Soviet cosmonauts were the best advertisement for the socialist utopia, which had dramatically demonstrated its superiority over the “decadent” West. Those nations sitting on the fence might have been persuaded to join the Soviet Bloc if the hammer and sickle had waved proudly on the lunar surface rather than the stars and stripes. The results could have had serious geo-political consequences. Basically, whoever won the Space Race would be considered the superior nation with the best technology and by implication, the best scientific, economic, and political system. Taken this way, von Braun’s role appears much more necessary. When the Russians exploded the H-bomb, he was one of the few who made the connection between nuclear weapons and rockets. With his knowledge of the Soviet use of German rocket scientists, he knew they were making a serious effort to overtake the West in nuclear and ballistic technology.

But to others his treatment of the slave laborers and links to the horrors of the Third Reich far outweigh any of his positive contributions. Can we celebrate the achievements of Wernher von Braun and his vital service to our nation, while at the same time acknowledging his moral lapses and not, in Neufeld’s words, engage in “profound denial?” That might be a more challenging and valuable endeavor for future generations, and the public in general, than to simply condemn the man and make him “disappear?” But that is society’s choice.

 

What do you think about Wernher von Braun? Let us know below.

Now, read Victor’s series on whether it was right to topple William McKinley’s statue in Arcata, California here.

References

“Chasing the Moon,” PBS Television Series

David, Heather, M., Wernher Von Braun, G.P. Putnam’s Sons: New York, 1967.

“Father of Modern Space Flight - Faith in Creator,” American Minute with Bill Federer. 

F.B.I. Affidavits on Wernher Von Braun

Wernher Von Braun, “Space Man: The Story of My Life,” American Weekly, 1958.

“Was Wernher Von Braun really a Nazi?” By Christopher Harress Al.com

Neufeld, Michael J. Von Braun: Dreamer of Space, Engineer of War, Random House, New York, 2007.

Michael Neufeld, “Wernher von Braun and the Nazis.” American Experience

Neufeld, Michael J. “Wernher Von Braun, the SS, and Concentration Camp Labor; Questions of Moral, Political, and Criminal Responsibility.” German Studies Review, Vol. 25 No. 1.

Michael Neufeld, “Wernher von Braun and the Nazi Rocket Program: An Interview with , PhD, of the National Air and Space Museum.”

Peeples, David, The Mystery of Life:What’s It All About?” 2018 by David Peeples. 

Alejandro De La Garza, “How Historians Are Reckoning With the Former Nazi Who Launched American’s Space Program” July 18, 2019 Time Magazine 

Wernher Von Braun, “My Faith,” American Weekly, February 10, 1963.

Tom Lehrer - “Wernher Von Braun”, 1965, from the Album That Was the Year That Was.

Tom Lehrer Interview in 2003

“Missile Expert Wernher Von Braun Appears On Forum Series Tonight” in The Parthenon, Marshall College Student Newspaper, Huntington W. Virginia, Sept. 25, 1959.

“Who got America to the moon? An unlikely collaboration of Jewish and former Nazi scientists and engineers” LA Times, March 1, 2020.

Mayer, Jürgen NS-Raketenproduktion der V1 und V2 in Mittelbau-Dora: Die Mittelwerk GmbH,  2019 German Edition. 

Wallace, Mike, television biography of Wernher von Braun

Arts & Entertainment, Biography (1959–1961 Television series).

“The Slave Labor Program, The Illegal Use of Prisoners of War, and The Special Responsibility of Defendants Sauckel and Speer,” Trial brief of the case against Fritz Sauckel and Albert Speer for Crimes against Humanity and War Crimes from the Nuremberg Trial documents, Harriet Zetterberg; Thomas L. Karsten; Lt., USNR; James H. Mathias, Captain, JAGD; Bernard D. Meltzer, Lt. (jg) USNR.

"Tut alles, damit dieser Name verschwindet" by Stefan Mayr, Süddeutsche Zeitung, 23 March 2012.

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There were of many tragedies in World War II, and this is the often forgotten story of one such tragedy. In 1943, 173 people were killed at Bethnal Green station in London. Ilana Barnett explains.

The 'Stairway to Heaven' memorial to those who died in the disaster in Bethnal Green, London. Unveiled on December 16, 2017. Source: GrindtXX, available here.

The 'Stairway to Heaven' memorial to those who died in the disaster in Bethnal Green, London. Unveiled on December 16, 2017. Source: GrindtXX, available here.

A Campaign of Terror

The term ‘the Blitz’ was given by the British Press to Hitler’s bombing campaign between September 7, 1940, and May 10, 1941, which was aimed at demoralizing the people of the United Kingdom during the Second World War. Although it actually refers to the wide spread bombing of the UK, in areas such as Glasgow, Belfast, Portsmouth, Swansea, Hull, Bristol, Sheffield and Liverpool, all of which suffered horrendous damage and loss of life, it is images of London, and in particular the devastation to the East End which has become synonymous with the Blitz. In total 43,000 civilians were killed during this period, over half of those who lost their lives lived in London.

 

A Place of Safety

Despite tube stations (the stations servicing the underground London railway – nicknamed ‘the tube’), having played an important role during World War I, inter-war policy makers ruled out their use in future conflicts. Some of the reasons behind this decision were put forward by the politician and Member of Parliament, Sir John Anderson in his 1939 report. Anderson argued that tube shelters were a public safety hazard i.e. the real possibility of people being injured or killed from falling onto the lines as well as the increased risk pertaining to the spread of diseases due to lack of amenities such as toilet facilities. One of his most bizarre arguments was that people would develop a ‘deep shelter mentality’ and feel so safe they would never want to leave!

At first the Government’s position was tenable as the light bombings during the summer of 1940, meant that the public shelters were not heavily used but as the bombing intensified general opinion began to turn. Ignoring growing public unrest, Anderson (now promoted to Minister of Home Security) dug his heels in and issued a joint report with the Ministry of Transport on the September 17, 1940, to warn people not to use the tubes as shelters except in emergencies. Despite all the policies, warnings and reports, people used their own judgment and ignored them. Over the night of September 19/20, determined Londoners took matters into their own hands and from 4pm onwards hundreds of people in an act of mass disobedience grabbed their bedding and food and flocked down into the tube stations. Faced with a civilian rebellion on such a massive scale, the Government finally caved in and formulated a ‘deep shelter extension policy’. The policy included converting 79 stations including Bethnal Green Tube Station into suitable accommodation with bunks fitted to accommodate about 22,000 people, first aid facilities, chemical toilets, 124 canteens and the recruitment of Shelter Marshals as well as reinforcing the underground flood walls.

 

8:27 pm - March 3, 1943

Although the Blitz was officially considered over by the beginning of May 1941, London still suffered from intermittent raids. 

On the evening of March 3, 1943, Londoners calmly got ready to spend another night in the shelters. Many had the procedure down to a fine art, sending a member of the family down to a ‘bundle shop’ (a left luggage store) to collect bedding to be taken down to the shelter while other family members grabbed food, and gathered up the children.

The shelter at Bethnal Green Tube Station had been fitted out in the same style as the other stations and was always busy. To enter the station, you would first go down 19 steps to a landing, and then another seven to the ticket hall. From there you would take one of the escalators 80 feet down to the platform. There was room for about 7,000 people with bunks for 5,000, and the remainder having to find a space where they could. In addition, the Metropolitan Borough of Bethnal Green responsible for the running of the shelter had even built a hospital, and a library.

The siren went off at 8:17 pm, and people made their way through the inky darkness to the station, walking calmly down the steps to the landing taking care as it had been raining, and the steps were slippery. Ten minutes later everyone was startled by a loud noise, which was unlike anything, they had ever heard before. People surged forward causing a woman with a small child at the bottom of the steps to slip. An elderly man behind her lost his balance, and fell on top of her. This started a horrifying, and unstoppable domino effect with people piling on top of each other. Those entering the station were unable to see what had happened at the bottom, and continued to push forward making a bad situation even worse as people were lifted off their feet, and carried down the steps by the force of the crowd behind. The whole episode lasted only 15 seconds, at the end of which all anyone could see was a huge pile of bodies, ten deep, arms, and legs entangled with those at the bottom crushed to death. One shocked witness compared the sight to that of a charnel house, a building or vault in which corpses or bones are piled. The people already settled in the shelter were completely unaware of the tragedy which was unfolding above them.

 

A Terrible Sight

A policeman, PC Thomas Penn, who was bringing his wife to the shelter, luckily arrived too late to be caught up in it, but tried to assess the damage. He clambered down over the bodies finding 200 people at the bottom trapped in a small space. He then crawled back out to send a message for help, and then returned to try to help those trapped. He fainted twice.

People arriving at the scene joined in the rescue attempt. The injured were taken to a nearby hospital while the bodies were laid out on the pavement. The dead were later taken to the local mortuary at Whitechapel hospital, and when that become overcrowded were brought over the road to St John’s Church. The police surgeon told the coroner that he had been amazed that of the 300 people involved not one was found with fractured ribs.

It took a while for the scale of what had happened to sink in. 62 people had been injured, and 173 had been killed, 27 men, 84 women, and 62 children (one casualty died later in hospital from injuries sustained during the crush). The woman who had been at the front of the group survived but her child did not. The youngest to be killed was Carol Geary, she was only five months old. The loss of life was horrendous, and not a single bomb had been dropped.

The disaster affected everyone involved; those who had been trapped, the rescuers, and of course the families who lost their loved ones. For many what they had gone through, seen or heard haunted them, and left scars that never healed. One survivor’s daughter recounted how her mother once told her that every night as she laid down to sleep, she heard their dying cries, and screams.

 

A Government Whitewash

The news about the disaster at Bethnal Green began to circulate but fearful of the outcome of any investigation, and worried how it would affect public morale, government officials decided that the best course of action would be pretty much to hush it up. The press was censored, and not allowed to report on the incident for two days, and even when they were finally free to print their articles, they were forbidden to reveal the actual location of the disaster. Despite trying to brush it under the carpet, somehow the Nazis heard about Bethnal Green, and decided to use it for their own propaganda purposes claiming that it had been their bombs which had been responsible for the deaths.

Initially the idea of an investigation was dismissed as being unnecessary with officials agreeing with Sir Laurence Rivers Dunne that it would blow the incident out of proportion, and give encouragement to the enemy. Eventually a short statement was read out in the House of Commons which simply stated that precautions would be taken in the future to prevent anything like it happening again.

 

Falling on Death Ears

In his book, Mr Morrison’s Conjuring Trick: The People of Bethnal Green (deceased) v The Crown, Rick Fountain presents damning evidence against the Government, and their policy towards Bethnal Green Tube Station. He discovered letters from Bethnal Green Council to the Local Civil Defence sector of the Government sent shortly before the disaster. These letters shed new light of what was happening behind the scenes. In one letter the council asked the Government to approve plans to alter the entrance to the tube station to make it safer to avoid a bottleneck. The request was refused. Two more letters were written by the Borough Engineer to the Government asking them to agree to changes to the station’s entrance, and also the staircase, including the erection of a crash barrier to slow down the movement of the crowds. Both times the Government said no, and that a crash barrier was a waste of money.

The day after the disaster, all the changes were implemented.

The letters were hidden under the Official Secrets Act.

The Government placed all the blame on the Council.

 

An Avoidable Tragedy

So, what about the strange noise that had startled everyone in the shelter? Most agree now that the sound was the firing of 60 rockets from an anti-aircraft battery gun by the Royal Artillery in Victoria Park. It was a new defense weapon which had never been heard before, and should never have been tested in a built-up area.

 

A Sort of Justice

It was only at the end of the war that the Government, faced with mounting public pressure, finally agreed to answer questions about what actually happened that night. The Minister of Home Security, Herbert Morrison quoted from a secret report – so an investigation had been carried out. Maybe the Government was worried that one day they would be held accountable. The report cited inadequate lighting (the stairway was only lit by one 25-watt bulb), shortage of supervisors, and lack of handrails as being contributory factors but stated that it was the crowd’s irrational behavior which was most to blame. He admitted that the report was originally suppressed as they had been worried that no one would believe the findings.

Not everyone agreed with the report’s conclusions. The Shoreditch Coroner, Mr. W.R.H. Heddy, along with other officials stated that testimonies given from witnesses confirm that whilst people were hurrying, and anxious, they were not panicking. There was also nothing to suggest a stampede having taken placeThe decision to hold the inquiry in secret was also condemned. 

A number of lawsuits were filed, looking for compensation including the well-documented ‘Baker v Bethnal Green Corporation’ brought by a bereaved widow. The decision was made in her favor. A number of similar cases followed. By the beginning of 1950s over £60,000 had been paid out.

 

Finally, a Fitting Tribute

A small memorial plaque to those that died, easily missed, was placed at the southeast entrance to the tube station, above the point where the first woman fell. Many felt this was inadequate, and a long campaign was launched to create a more fitting memorial. On December 17, 2017, the Bethnal Green Stairway to Heaven Memorial was unveiled. The memorial includes a plaque listing the names of those that died as well as 173 points of light, one for each of the victims. 

 

What do you think of the Bethnal Green tube disaster? Let us know below.

Now read Ilana’s article on four of the most eccentric Scottish Dukes of Hamilton here.

World War I is of course one of the most important wars in modern history, and of the key geo-political aspects of the war was the formation of the Triple Entente between Britain, France, and Russia. These Great Powers with overlapping interests were not necessarily natural allies in World War One, but the nature of international affairs in the preceding decades pushed them together.

Here, Bilal Junejo continues a series looking at how the Triple Entente was formed by considering what happened in the 1870s. In particular, Otto von Bismarck’s approach to diplomacy, Frances’s search for an alliance, the role of Russia, and how the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78 led to the Congress of Berlin - and many implications.

Read part one in the series on the origins of Germany here.

The taking of the Grivitsa redoubt by Russia during the 1877-78 Russo-Turkish War.

The taking of the Grivitsa redoubt by Russia during the 1877-78 Russo-Turkish War.

Otto von Bismarck’s was “a being high-uplifted above the common run”.[1] His were a mind and genius that would not rest upon the laurels of mere conquest, but rather continue to exert themselves till their ready devotion of much cogitation to the morrow’s actions had revealed the most magisterial means of fortifying excellence freshly achieved with princely permanence — to the total exclusion of anything even remotely akin to misplaced complacency and consequent reverie. Aware with becoming keenness of how the precious is inherently precarious, he was determined that the singular tenacity which had marked his erection of the new German Empire should now be rivaled, if not surpassed, only by that which would inform his preservation thereof. It was the ambivalent fortune of the Second Reich that its formidable founder also served for an unbroken spell of nineteen years as its first Chancellor; for whilst he achieved much in the course of that fateful period, he also bequeathed to his successors a legacy for whose onerous preservation they were equipped to exude neither the ability nor the vision. To this day, it remains near impossible to say what conduced more to the eventual undoing of Hohenzollern Prussia and her dominions — that Bismarck should have been Chancellor before Wilhelm II, or that Wilhelm II should have been Kaiser after Bismarck.

Bismarck’s first and foremost priority in the wake of victory over France was to ensure that she — the humiliated neighbor whose lasting enmity he had so easily and rashly earned — should not meet with success in the endeavor upon which she was certain to embark for the purpose of securing an ally to wage a war of revenge. The shock of Sedan[2] had been a sobering lesson in the pitfalls of pride, and its digestion was not rendered any easier by the facility with which a jubilant Prussia proclaimed the terms of surrender and humiliation at Frankfurt[3] for their incorporation in the annals of the world. Gone were the days when all her neighbors would tremble at the mere thought of the Sun King, and all Europe would scatter at the merest sight of Napoleon Bonaparte. Now was she reduced to a shadow of her former self, vanquished and retiring, destined to forever grapple with memories that served as a constant and invidious reminder of all that had been, but was no more. It was nothing less than a desire for revenge that could animate her spirit henceforth, and nothing else that could chart the course of her future exertions. Newly deprived of the power she had for so long been accustomed to wield in the face of these upstarts from across the Rhine, she would redress this unbecoming inferiority to the nascent Reich with the succor of another’s superiority to, or at least equality with, her malicious and meticulous foe.

This resolution had, amidst all the hope it happily renewed and vigor that it justly roused, commended itself to the people of France despite the burden of a hurdle that, in the circumstances, was part and parcel of it. Since the Franco-Prussian War had been but a bilateral confrontation, it was obvious to all — and to none more so than France herself — that a war waged for mere vengeance would be the pursuit of Paris alone, as no other European power had at the time cause for even contemplating conflict with Germany, let alone actually doing to her what she had just done to France. The French had, therefore, to look for a Power with whom they could, at the very least, share interests, if not passions. To put it in words a trifle blunter, that Power need not view the destruction of Germany as an end in itself, so long as it could be counted upon to regard a considerable weakening of German power to be the means of achieving some other end, even if that end was one which France would not necessarily feel inclined to share. The French were looking for what might be called negative unity, which is unity stemming from bonds that are forged to surmount a common obstacle, rather than to secure a common end.

 

A French ally

But what Power would that be? A glance at the map of Europe in 1871, in conjunction with the barest modicum of geopolitical sense, would and did suffice to yield the ambivalent answer. Since Germany lay in the center of the Continent, and to the immediate east of France, it made sense to have an ally who would be both willing and able to engage Germany on any front so long as it was not her western, where a resolute French were already baying for blood. A simultaneous engagement on two fronts would automatically halve German strength before each adversary. But which front would that be? It was not as if there were a lot of options from which to make a leisurely choice. To the south of Germany lay the sprawling dominions of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, whose Habsburg rulers had already dissolved their sour memories of Sadowa[4] in the tonic of Bismarck’s blandishments, which somehow never ceased to work wonders for the health of his diplomacy. To the north lay the serene Baltic, and around it a host of Scandinavian mediocrities. The only front that remained was the eastern, where possible salvation for the pusillanimous successors of Bonaparte lay in the arms and armies of the Tsar of Russia. Here was finally a Power not only ideally situated on Germany’s border, but also believed to be possessed of military strength sufficient, should its possessors be commensurately provoked, to arouse both German alarm and French approbation. Since actual confrontation had not yet taken place, perceptions mattered more than did reality, and it was more important for diplomatic purposes what Germany and France believed to be the magnitude of Russian strength, rather than what it actually was — “an imposing phantom”[5], as subsequent events would prove beyond dispute and not long after.

But these were happenings yet to come. At the beginning of the 1870s, with the purported pursuing of Russia — and the attendant, if rather erroneous, surmise that hers was a friendship to court and an enmity to shun — the talk of many a chancellery in Europe, both France and Germany, albeit each in her own way, could be expected to do the needful. But how was Russia herself inclined to act just then? On whose side, if on anyone’s, did she wish to be? What were her ambitions, and what were her fears?

 

Russia enters the picture

It so happened that at the very moment when France would have almost prostrated herself before Russia for the sake of settling scores with her parvenu neighbor, the Tsar Alexander II, who reigned and ruled from 1855 to 1881, showed himself ready to evince not even the slightest interest in reciprocating the sycophantic sentiments of a nation that, in concert with Great Britain, had humiliated his own in the Crimea only a decade and a half prior to when the author of the Ems Telegram would resolve that similar scathe should be meted out to the would-be myrmidons of Marianne as well. Unsurprising Russian neutrality during the Franco-Prussian War had been one of the principal factors that contributed to the decisive victory achieved by Bismarck in the crucial winter of 1870-71. The Treaty of Paris (1856), by dint of which both France and Great Britain had dealt a united and decisive blow to the Tsar’s overweening pretensions (principally by stipulating Russian demilitarization of the Black Sea), now proved sufficient to ensure that for the fairly immediate future, poor France, whilst still reeling from the shame of Frankfurt, would have to grapple with the strictures inherent in the new diplomatic order of Europe on her own. Even though the Treaty of Paris had been in the main an Anglo-French enterprise, the price that, in retrospect, it came to exact from the French was disproportionately greater, for it was Bismarck’s tacit acquiescence in Russian remilitarization of the Black Sea (in 1870) that Russia would repay in the form of benevolent neutrality during the Franco-Prussian War.

A telling account of the consequences that, in 1865, had been made inevitable by the diplomatic folly exhibited with abandon in lovely Lutetia was furnished, to the immeasurable fortune of posterity, by the arresting wits of the eminent English philosopher, John Stuart Mill (1806-73). Reflecting in the manner of a thoughtful contemporary, even as the third Napoleon fell like the first, on what had come to pass, both by way of gain and loss, Mill was moved to observe that in the matter of making international treaties:

“Nations should be willing to abide by two rules. They should abstain from imposing conditions which, on any just and reasonable view of human affairs, cannot be expected to be kept. And they should conclude their treaties as commercial treaties are usually concluded — only for a term of years.

If these principles are sound, it remains to be considered how they are to be applied to past treaties, which, though containing stipulations which, to be legitimate, must be temporary, have been concluded without such limitation, and are afterwards violated, or, as by Russia at present, repudiated, on the assumption of a right superior to the faith of engagements.

It is the misfortune of such stipulations, even if as temporary arrangements they might have been justifiable, that if concluded for permanency they are seldom to be got rid of without some lawless act on the part of the nation bound by them. If a lawless act, then, has been committed in the present instance, it does not entitle those who imposed the conditions to consider the lawlessness only, and to dismiss the more important consideration, whether, even if it was wrong to throw off the obligation, it would not be still more wrong to persist in enforcing it. If, though not fit to be perpetual, it has been imposed in perpetuity, the question when it becomes right to throw it off is but a question of time. No time having been fixed, Russia fixed her own time, and naturally chose the most convenient. She had no reason to believe that the release she sought would be voluntarily granted on any conditions which she would accept; and she chose an opportunity which, if not seized, might have been long before it occurred again, when the other contracting parties were in a more than usually disadvantageous position for going to war.”[6]

 

It is even more as a lawyer than as an amateur historian that I declare — though the stature of one as great as Mill hath scarce any need of my declaration to rest assured of its greatness — the ready accord of my own reason with the celebrated counsel of that perspicacious man. Even when it comes to the conclusion of a simple contract, be it for purposes commercial or otherwise, the law recognizes the possibility of there arising, without the fault of either contracting party, the frustration of their contract. This is the unforeseen termination of a contract as the result of a supervening event that either renders its performance impossible or illegal or prevents its main purpose from being achieved.[7]

This is precisely why no commercial contract worth its name is ever concluded for an indefinite period. A contract, which is but an exchange of promises, is born in, and because of, certain conditions prevailing at the time that it is made. Since the promises whose execution, in the course of time, the contract envisages owe their very raison d’être to those conditions, it would make little, if any, sense to prolong the duration of the contract beyond the period for which those conditions can reasonably be expected to last. Obligations that outlive the conditions in which they were assumed invariably bode ill for the future welfare of the parties that undertook them in the first place. The selfsame considerations apply, and as exactly, in the case of international treaties.

 

Bismarck’s diplomacy

Bismarck had no need of a jurist’s manual to teach him these fundamental truths of human life on our motley planet. Instinctively aware of how to extract the most whilst offering the least, he was about to embark on a series of daring diplomatic maneuvers that would pay solemn, if silent, homage to the exhortations of his erudite contemporary, and yield rich dividends into the bargain. Convinced of his opportunity to engage Russia on Germany’s side, he was determined not to surrender that opportunity to France, and it is the ultimate testament to his diplomatic genius that this is precisely the state of affairs that he, despite many a contretemps, was able to sustain continuously until the very moment of his unceremonious dismissal from the chancellorship by a wayward Wilhelm II in 1890.

Bismarck’s first major move was to secure the diplomatic arrangement that history remembers by the rather pompous name of Dreikaiserbund (which is German for the Three Emperors’ League). Based upon agreements concluded in May and June 1873 — following a preliminary meeting of the German Emperor, Austro-Hungarian Emperor and Russian Tsar in Berlin in September 1872 — it, despite its significance as indicated by the propinquity it bore to the war just fought with France, was little more than a vague understanding that emphasized the importance of monarchical solidarity in the face of subversive movements (this was an era of burgeoning nationalism in Europe and around the world).[8] In substance, it was at least better than the “sublime mysticism and nonsense”[9] of the Holy Alliance, which had cherished as its sole aim the sustained perpetuation of moribund regimes; but it proved far less durable than the somewhat similar Triple Entente that it anticipated, and the advent of which it precipitated by its own eventual dissolution.

The dissolution was in spite of Bismarck. He had been wise not to seek a formal treaty where none would have been forthcoming, but the absence of definite obligations also meant that far greater room for diplomatic maneuver existed for each member of the Dreikaiserbund than was desirable for the health and longevity of it. With the Tsar eagerly fanning the flames of Panslavism in the Balkans — to the joy of many a Slav braving the yoke of Hapsburg and Ottoman imperialism and yearning for liberation, but to the calculated wrath of both Vienna and the Sublime Porte — in the hope of distracting domestic attention from real issues at home to alleged dangers abroad, it was all the Iron Chancellor could do to bring Austria and Russia together at the same table, without the added burden of committing each to the definite restraints inherent in a formal treaty or alliance. For a time, Russia acquiesced in the workings of this tripartite arrangement, not only because it knew that Germany alone (who had a major interest in the preservation of her only dependable friend in Europe) possessed the power to induce Austria to adopt a less confrontational attitude against Russia in the Balkans, but also because this would help her to convince France that her diplomatic options were not limited (and thus assist her in procuring more favorable terms in the case of an eventual alliance with her erstwhile foe). Most unfortunately, however, for even this incipient goodwill from St Petersburg, events in the Balkans soon decided against the rebarbative continuation of such an affable arrangement.

 

Bulgarian conflict

In 1875, conflict broke out in Bulgaria. Subjected to the Porte’s alien rule for the past five hundred years, Bulgaria had not been slow to appreciate the rise of nationalism in the farrago of nineteenth century Europe and the competing ambitions of her many peoples, any more than she had been in recognizing a growing opportunity to wrest independence from her oppressors in times that were only growing more favorable by the day. The Porte had been equally quick of perception, and judging that prevention was better than cure, took the bold step of sowing the discord between moderate and extremist that has ever furnished the principal prop and pillar of the policy entitled divide et impera. In this case, in the year 1870, the step was taken in the form of an edict that authorized the establishment of a Bulgarian Excharcate (i.e. a separate branch of the Eastern Orthodox Church).[10] The wily Porte had probably calculated that such a move could be counted upon to flatter the clergy, appease the moderates, and isolate the extremists — all to the advantage, however ephemeral, of a regime that was decaying, and which could not hope to survive the resolution of those internal Slavonic squabbles that were as internecine as they were endemic in the Balkan peninsula.

On this occasion, however, the Sultan’s turned out to be an egregious miscalculation. The new Excharcate, so far from offering any gratitude to the Sultan by rallying their people behind the Ottoman throne, chose instead to view the Porte’s latest concession as a sign of not magnanimity but abject weakness; and it decided not altogether implausibly that the time had come to try conclusions with the imperious House of Osman. The reasoning that underlay the timing of this Bulgarian unrest stemmed from a realization that Russia, the sanctimonious champion of independence for the South Slavs, would in the wake of her recent denunciation of the Treaty of Paris be in an unusually favorable position to assist the Bulgar nation in its quest for the categoric expulsion of Ottoman rule from Bulgarian soil. It was, therefore, for five years that matters smoldered and men seethed, till the advent of that day when Russia, armed by what it thought was the sanction of an amorphous and taciturn Dreikaiserbund, ventured to bestow its definite approbation of the Bulgar cause on the Bulgar people, unflinching in its determination to efface that record of shame to which she herself had made many an unwitting contribution since the time of the Holy Alliance.

 

Russia enters the fray

Affronted beyond measure by what it saw as the brazen ingratitude of the Bulgars and the unwarrantable presumption of their Russian sponsors, the ruthless forces of the Porte resolved to call the latter’s bluff by unleashing such a wave of savagery and destruction on the former as could not fail to elicit a response from the Tsar and his truculent court, who were already awaiting a suitable pretext for intervention from the frigid banks of the Neva. Fired with the enthusiasm to champion and secure for the Bulgars those very rights that she had never exhibited the slightest sorrow in denying to the Slavs rotting in her own Polish backyard, Russia entered the Balkan fray without a qualm and proceeded with the serene confidence of a somnambulist to vindicate Santayana’s solemn warning, albeit not given in as many words by any at the time, that “those who do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it”.

Russia should have remembered that ever since the time of the “loud-sounding nothing” that had been the Holy Alliance, and of which she had been the principal proponent, hers had not been a position from which she could hope to threaten or thrash the Porte without bringing down upon her skull the redoubtable bludgeon of the Royal Navy. But as has almost always been the case with people who do not know the limits of their ambitions, the Tsar and his advisers spurned the toil of logic, and sought in its stead the meretricious gratification that is the certain and ruinous promise of frivolous braggadocio and inflated estimations of one’s own prowess and possibilities. Whilst their mettlesome forces did eventually manage to arrive at the very gates of Constantinople, and from there compel the Sultan to append his signature to a shameful document of capitulation, they had reckoned without the opposition of those who were more ably placed than was the decrepit empire of the Ottomans to check this alarming aggrandizement in Russian fortune on the shores of those very waters that flowed without choice into the vital maritime routes of international trade, the lynchpin of which had lain in the Suez Canal since its opening to all traffic on 17 November 1869. It would be pertinent to remember that in the very year when the Bulgars finally embarked upon their crusade to reclaim the freedom they had lost of yore, Great Britain — principally at the instigation of her justly renowned Tory statesman, Benjamin Disraeli, whose second and final premiership had spanned with a remarkable prescience the fateful years from 1874 to 1880 — acquired a holding interest at 40% of the Suez Canal Company’s equity (making her the single largest shareholder), under the auspices of a loan to the tune of four million pounds sterling rendered by the astute acumen of Lord Rothschild and his illustrious bank. Since Disraeli was still in office at the time the ominous cloud of Russian ambition was beginning to darken the horizon at Suez, he was determined that no manner of artifice or bluster emanating from the halls of that “icy Muscovite” and “overgrown barbarian of the East” should be allowed to wreck what had to up to that point in time been the most signal achievement of his formidable premiership.

When such were the considerations to uphold at a time of great diplomatic uncertainty, it was not to be expected that an apprehensive government in London would find much to allay their fears of Russian intentions in the treaty that announced to the world not only the cessation of hostilities between Turkey and Russia, but also the imminent end of all that Great Britain had been so sedulous to uphold by way of solution to the Eastern Question for the past eighty years. The Treaty of San Stefano, concluded on 3 March 1878 and upon the ashes of Ottoman pride, had pledged the signatories to honor the creation of a large autonomous state of Bulgaria that would include present-day Macedonia and also cherish an outlet to the Aegean Sea. It had also enlarged the size of both Serbia and Montenegro, confirmed the independence of Serbia, Montenegro and Romania, furnished Russia with sizeable gains in the Caucasus, and provided for the payment of a large indemnity by Turkey to the victors.

 

British considerations

With the new state of Bulgaria thus poised to become a Russian satellite that would secure to her patron easy access by land to the Aegean (and thence the Mediterranean), and the slow but steady disintegration of the empire that had for near six centuries held sway over the junction of three continents, Great Britain could discern no cause for assurance in the uncomfortable realization that an eventual elimination of the Ottoman presence at Constantinople and in its environs could make no contribution in the region to either British security or Russian maturity. There was no reason to suppose that an assertive Russia, already buoyed by fresh triumphs, would in any way prove as submissive to British demands as the effete Ottoman Empire had thus far proven to be.

And Great Britain was not alone in the entertainment of her apprehensions. The Dual Monarchy of Austria-Hungary, which was itself gradually buckling under the pressure of that clamor for self-determination being made by her own Slavonic population that could only receive fresh impetus in the event of Russia’s ascendancy in the Balkans and Asia Minor, was already beginning to nurture serious reservations regarding the Dreikaiserbund into which she had entered so willingly at the behest of Bismarck. If Germany was not going to restrain Russia from furthering the portentous cause of Panslavism in the Balkans, even when Great Britain was willing to challenge her all on her own, then there could be no reason why Austria should foolishly continue to remain a party to that useless agreement called the Dreikaiserbund. And Austrian withdrawal would spell the end of Bismarck’s bargaining leverage over Russia, whose own on the other hand would increase dramatically over Germany, who could never cease to feel the searing glare of French hatred on her back.

The Dreikaiserbund had arrived at a decisive precipice. It was the moment to decide whether, being adjudged redundant, it would be pushed to certain death; or whether, deemed imperative, it would be retained still by dint of adequate compromise. Since no signatory required the Bund as direly as did the Germany of Bismarck, that sagacious statesman prudently chose the latter course.

 

Congress of Berlin

It was to this end that he opened the Congress of Berlin in June 1878 (a mere three months after San Stefano). Continuing into July, the Congress, to which delegates from all the major countries of Europe brought the succor of their good offices, was not likely, despite the best endeavors of Bismarck, to cut much, if any, ice with Russia — for two important reasons.

First, the Congress had been convened for the express purpose of revising the pledges of San Stefano, which was the apple of a myopic Russian eye. The only reason the Tsar even agreed to send his representative to the Congress was that he expected Bismarck, who was both an ostensible ally and the host, to argue the case for Russia in the face of implacable British and Austrian opposition. But the Congress was also as much Bismarck’s opportunity as it was the Tsar’s hope. As host, he could create the clever impression of being the “honest broker” between Russia and Great Britain, and as such, leave it to the former to address the claims of the latter in what was supposed to be an impartial forum. If what Great Britain sought by way of settlement was already in accord with Germany’s interests, then all Bismarck had to do was to make Russia confess to her ambitious designs in the Balkans before the Congress, give suitable air to the British answer, and then maintain he would uphold the unanimous, or at least majority, decision rendered by the Congress. With Russia in no position to confront Great Britain on the seas alone, Bismarck would achieve the desired result without in any obvious way betraying the spirit of the Dreikaiserbund.

The second reason that the Congress was more or less predestined to go against Russia was the fact that of all the important countries who sent their delegates there, Great Britain was the only one who sent not only her Foreign Secretary, but also Prime Minister! Benjamin Disraeli had chosen to attend in person because he did not want his Foreign Secretary, Lord Salisbury, to achieve the primary credit for the fruits of the Congress’s deliberations. The fact that Disraeli prioritized the Congress so highly shows not only how catastrophic it would have been for Great Britain not to achieve her objectives, but also how certain Disraeli was of achieving what he had so long sought for his country. Upon returning home, he would triumphantly announce that he had returned from Berlin with “peace with honor” (a phrase that would later be borrowed by another Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, upon his return from Germany exactly sixty years later, but with far less commendable consequences).

Coming, as it did, so soon in the wake of the triumph that had been the Treaty of San Stefano, the Congress unsurprisingly proved to be an unmitigated disaster for Russia. Its principal accomplishments were that an autonomous principality of Bulgaria was created; a province of Eastern Roumelia, nominally Turkish but with a Christian Governor was established south of Bulgaria, with the result that British fear of Russian access to the Aegean via Bulgaria was satisfactorily addressed, especially since the Christian Governor could be counted upon to pacify the Christian population of what was nominally still a Turkish province; the independence of Serbia and Montenegro, in accordance with San Stefano, was confirmed, with both states receiving territorial compensation; the independence of Romania was also confirmed, the Romanians obtaining northern Dobruja in return for ceding Bessarabia to Russia; Russia was confirmed in possession of the Caucasus; Austria-Hungary received the right to occupy Bosnia-Herzegovina and the Sanjak of Novi-Bazar; and Great Britain received the right to occupy the strategically important island of Cyprus. Although Eastern Roumelia eventually united with Bulgaria, the main lines of the settlement lasted for thirty years.[11]

 

Implications

This was the end of the Dreikaiserbund — at least, until 1881, when the Tsar was assassinated, and his successor, Alexander III, negotiated a much more formal and precise Dreikaiserbund Alliance with both Germany and Austria. But even then, Russia could never forget the humiliating lessons of the Congress, her nationalist press having memorably remarked at the time how it had been nothing but “a coalition of Europe against Russia under the leadership of Prince Bismarck”.[12]

Bismarck did not forget the sobering experience of having to mediate between Vienna and St Petersburg at an international forum either. Shortly after the Congress, he entered into a formal but secret alliance with Austria, the Dual Alliance of 1879, in which he solemnly pledged to assist Austria if she were ever to be attacked by Russia in future. The decade that had started off with Bismarck seeking to cement a triumvirate of sorts of the three great eastern autocracies had ended in the alienation of one, and the advent of a formal alliance between the other two against the third.

In the next part, we shall review the exertions of Bismarck during the 1880s. We shall look at how he managed to sustain his relations with both Russia and Austria even after, and in spite of, the unpleasant developments that had taken place towards the end of the 1870s. It was a feat of pure skill and ardor that can be easily neither forgotten nor emulated.

 

What do you think were the impacts of the 1870s? Let us know below.


[1] Said originally of Arthur Balfour by Winston Churchill, in the latter’s famous book Great Contemporaries (first published by Thornton Butterworth Ltd in 1937)

[2] The Battle of Sedan (1-2 September 1870), which marked the surrender and capture of the French Emperor, Napoleon III

[3] The Treaty of Frankfurt (10 May 1871), which formally ended the Franco-Prussian War

[4] The Battle of Sadowa (3 July 1866)

[5] Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy (Simon and Schuster Paperbacks 1994) 140

[6] Quoted in The Times, on 2 January 1939, page 15

[7] Definition of ‘frustration of a contract’ in the Oxford Dictionary of Law

[8] A. W. Palmer, A Dictionary of Modern History 1789-1945 (Penguin 1964) 110

[9] A description rendered by Lord Castlereagh, British Foreign Secretary 1812-22. Ibidem, 155

[10] A. W. Palmer, A Dictionary of Modern History 1789-1945 (Penguin 1964) 60-61

[11] Ibidem, 46

[12] Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy (Simon and Schuster Paperbacks 1994) 157

Saladin (1137-93) was Sultan of Egypt and Syria from 1174-93 and was in charge when Islamic forces took Jerusalem in 1187. The infamous Adolf Hitler needs less explanation. Here, Daniel Boustead considers how they were both liked by people you would not expect – Saladin by Christians due to his kindness, and Hitler by several Islamic extremist groups in the Middle East due to his Anti-Semitism.

Amin al-Husseini, Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, meeting Adolf Hitler in 1941. Source: Bundesarchiv, Bild 146-1987-004-09A / Heinrich Hoffmann / CC-BY-SA 3.0, available here: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bundesarchiv_Bild_146-1987-004-09A,_Amin_al_Husseini_und_Adolf_Hitler.jpg

Amin al-Husseini, Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, meeting Adolf Hitler in 1941. Source: Bundesarchiv, Bild 146-1987-004-09A / Heinrich Hoffmann / CC-BY-SA 3.0, available here: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bundesarchiv_Bild_146-1987-004-09A,_Amin_al_Husseini_und_Adolf_Hitler.jpg

Saladin and Adolf Hitler have two opposite reputations. Saladin’s stellar reputation produced positive praise amongst his enemies - his larger than life good reputation led to positive folklore stories that were written about him during Medieval times in the Christian world. In contrast Adolf Hitler’s policy of evil helped him gain prominence in the Islamic World of the Middle East. Adolf Hitler’s legacy of hatred continues to fuel the discord of the politics of the Middle East even today. Both Saladin and Adolf Hitler had unusual places in the Christian and Muslim worlds.

 

Saladin

Saladin’s generosity and kindness toward his enemies sometimes defied reason. In the tradition of the Second Islamic Caliph Umar, who conquered Jerusalem many years before, Saladin offered not to destroy the Holy Church of the Sepulcher ([1]). Saladin stated that even without the Church, Christians would still make a pilgrimage to the site of Jesus Christ’s tomb (1). Saladin therefore reasoned why make yourself more trouble then its worth by destroying the Holy Church of the Sepulcher? In 1187, when Saladin conquered Jerusalem, much to annoyance of Muslim critics, Saladin permitted the Patriarch of Jerusalem to purchase his freedom and his church treasures, for the normal ransom set for a single person ([2]). In 1187 Saladin permitted 10 Knights Hospitallers to remain in Jerusalem for a year to care for the sick (3).  In 1191 a Frankish women came to Saladin and said her three-month-old baby had been sold on the Arab slave market (4). The Frankish women went to Saladin as he was riding towards Tell al-Kharruba, and told her case which moved Saladin to tears. Saladin then asked that this child be brought to him. The Sultan Saladin ordered the purchase price to be paid to the purchaser and the child was taken from the purchaser. Saladin then gave this Frankish baby back to the women whom hugged it to her bosom and wept, while other people saw this moment and wept also at this sight. This Frankish woman and her baby were then taken back to the Frankish camp on Saladin’s order on horseback (4). 

Furthermore Saladin became an important protector to Eastern Christians against the Roman Catholic crusader states. The King of Georgia, the Byzantine Emperor of Constantinople, and the Catholicos of Armenia, were eager to call Saladin a friend and an ally (5). The Byzantines had friendly relations with Saladin though they never concluded agreement which would result in a military or political alliance between them. (6)

 

Legacy

Saladin was immortalized in fictional literature and Christian theology throughout Medieval Christian Europe. Christian theologians speculated between the natural, universal moral codes, and Christian morality (7). The Christian theologians concluded by the 13th Century C.E. that Saladin was a symbol of natural morality, because like the Pagan heroes of old he obeyed God’s natural moral laws without recourse to His church or His scriptures (7). In 1187 in a Papal Bull was issued by Gregory VIII (8). He claimed that Saladin captured Jerusalem because the Devil caused dissention in the Christian crusaders (8).  

In 1260, Saladin was romanticized in the fictional text Recits d’un Menstrel de Reims in which Saladin is shown giving the Hospitallers in the Hospital of St. John of Acre and their Grand Master hospitality (9). In Dante’s Divine Comedy Saladin goes to Hell (10). However, in Dante’s Hell Saladin is one of three Muslims who are in the “noble castle” which is emanating the light of human reason and are with the great poets, philosophers, and heroes of antiquity. The fact that these people are “virtuous pagans” forces them to be in the “noble castle” in Hell and prevents them from the torments of Hell’s other inhabitants experiences - but prevents them from being admitted into heaven. In Dante’s Hell Saladin discusses the nature of the Good and the True in this “noble castle” in Hell (10). Because of his stature Saladin was venerated by Christian theologians because they believed the Christian Crusader Knights did not have their hearts with God  - and by secular people for his chivalry. 

 

Hitler

In the way the Christians venerated Saladin as a noble heathen for his chivalry and kindness towards his enemies, the same could be said for how some more extreme Muslims venerated Nazi leader Adolf Hitler for his violent and destructive Anti-Semitism. How Adolf Hitler’s Anti-Semitism could become popular with a few Muslims is best summed up by George Antonius’ quote: “Arab hatred and Anti-Semitism would end, and the ancient harmony would be restored when Zionism abandoned both its ‘colonialist’ and ‘neo-crusader’ quest”(11).  Sections of Adolf Hitler’s autobiography Mein Kampf appeared in newspapers in Baghdad and Beirut in the spring 1934 (12). Mein Kampf expressed some very destructive Anti-Semitic viewpoints. In an incident on April 15, 1936 (according to the Palestinian Arab National Committee) member Akram Zu’yatir mentioned an incident where three members of Izz-ul-Din-al-Qassam’s militia, who were led by Sheikh Farhan al-Sa’di, pulled three people out of a truck on a mountain road in the Nablus region at 8:30 P.M.(13). The three men pulled three people out of the truck and asked them if they were Jews or Englishmen (13). The driver and passenger answered that they were Jews and were immediately shot on the spot by members of Izz-ul-Din-al-Qassam’s militia (13). Another person who was present “proved to the band that he was a German, a Hitlerite, and a Christian, swearing on Hitler’s honor that he was telling the truth” (13). “The three men released him. ‘For Hitler’s sake’ … with thirty five pounds sterling in his pockets”(13). This showed how a few Muslims supported Adolf Hitler for his Anti-Semitism. This event helped trigger a chain of events that ignited the 1936 Palestinian Arab uprising (13). Akram Zu’aytir describes another incident that took place in Tulkarm where “A car drove by; one of the passengers, wearing a Western-style hat, was attacked by Arab demonstrators (14). “He shouted ‘Heil Hitler’ in the direction of the demonstrators and raised his arm in the Nazi salute, then hoisted the Nazi flag over his car, while the crowd cheered him”(14). This showed how popular Adolf Hitler was with a more extreme section of Muslims and Arabs. If the crowd in this Tulkarm incident had found that the person was Jewish they would likely have killed him.

On January 11, 1941 Hitler issued Directive No.32 which stated: “after Soviet Russian armed forces have been crushed, Germany would carry out the main attack against the Suez Canal with German and Italian Forces” (15). On May 23, 1941 Adolf Hitler issued Directive No.30 which stated “Arab freedom movements in the Middle East are our natural ally against England” (16). This means that had Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy invaded the Middle East they would have liberated Arabs and Muslims from the colonial forces of Great Britain and the Germans would then have killed the Jews living in that region. This is confirmed in a meeting between the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem Haj Amin Al-Husseini and Adolf Hitler on November 28, 1941 (17).  Hitler not only promised to the Grand Mufti to “carry on the battle of total destruction of the Judeo-Communist empire in Europe”, but also promised to the Mufti that when the Germans reached the Middle East, that “Germany’s objective would then be solely the destruction of the Jewish element residing in the Arab sphere under the protection of British power. In that hour, the Mufti would be the most authoritative spokesman of the Arab world”(17). While, based on how the Nazis treated people in territories the Nazis invaded, it is debatable how Hitler would have behaved towards the Arabs of the Middle East, this shows a reason why some Arabs had sympathy towards Hitler.

 

Hitler after the war

After World War II Hitler was still considered a noble infidel by some more extreme groups. Egyptian Islamic Extremist Sayyid Qutb mentioned Hitler in a key text he wrote in the 1950s called Our Struggle with the Jews (18). In a key passage in the work Qutb states: “Then Allah brought Hitler to Rule over them. And once again today the Jews have returned to evil-doing, in the form of ‘Israel” which made the Arabs, owners of the Land taste sorrows and woe. So let Allah bring down upon the Jews people who will mete out the worst kind of punishment, as a confirmation of His unequivocal promise: ‘If you return, then We return’; and in keeping with his Sunna, which does not vary. So for one who expects tomorrow, it is close!”(18). In the aftermath of Sayyid Qutb’s execution in 1966, Qutb became a martyr and ideological inspiration for radical Islamist groups such as Al Qaeda, Hezbollah, and Hamas (19). 

Saladin and Hitler were partially accepted by communities that would have not normally praised them -  but they would leave very different legacies. Saladin was respected and had Christian sympathy, while Hitler was evil and had the support of extreme groups.

 

What do you think of the article? Let us know below.

Now, you can read more World War II history from Daniel: “Did World War Two Japanese Kamikaze Attacks have more Impact than Nazi V-2 Rockets?” here, “Japanese attacks on the USA in World War II” here, and “Was the Italian Military in World War 2 Really that Bad?” here.


[1] Mohring, Hannes. Translated by Bachrach, David S. Introduction by Cobb, Paul M. Saladin: , the Sultan and His Times, 1138-1193. Baltimore: Maryland. John Hopkins University Press. 2005. 66. 

[2] Mohring, Hannes. Translated by Bachrach, David S. Introduction by Cobb, Paul M. Saladin: the Sultan  and His Times, 1138-1193. Baltimore: Maryland. John Hopkins University Press. 2005. 65 to 66. 

3 Mohring, Hannes. Translated by Bachrach, David S. Introduction by Cobb, Paul M. Saladin: the Sultan and His Times, 1138-1193. Baltimore: Maryland. John Hopkins University Press. 2005. 100. 

4Shaddad, Ibn Bah al-din. Translated by Richards, D.S. The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin. New York: New York. Routledge: Taylor& Francis Group. 2002 and 2016. 144 and 147 to 148. 

5 Poole-Lane, Stanley. Saladin and the Fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. New York: New York. G.P Putnam and Sons, 1898. This edition published in 2017. 216. 

6 Mohring, Hannes. Translated by Bachrach, David S. Introduction by Cobb, Paul M. Saladin: the Sultan and His Times, 1138-1193. Baltimore: Maryland. John Hopkins University Press. 2005. 77. 

7 Tolan, John V. Sons of Ishmael: Muslims through European Eyes in the Middle Ages. Gainesville: Florida. University Press of Florida. 2008. 92. 

8 Tolan, John V. “Mirror of Chivalry: Salah al-Din, in the Medieval European Imagination”, Images of the Other: Europe and the Muslim World before 1700(Cairo Papers in Social Science 19:2) Frasetto, Michael  and Blanke, David R. eds. (Cairo Egypt: American University in Cairo Press 1996). 27-28. 

9 Tolan, John V. “Mirror of Chivalry: Salah al-Din, in the Medieval European Imagination”, Images of the Other: Europe and the Muslim World before 1700 (Cairo Papers in Social Science 19:2) Frasetto, Michael and Blanke, David R. eds. (Cairo Egypt: American University in Cairo Press 1996). 27-28. 

10 Tolan, John V. Sons of Ishmael: Muslims through European Eyes in the Middle Ages. Gainesville: Florida. University Press of Florida. 2008. 79 to 80. 

11 Calvert, John. Sayyid Qutb and the Origins of Radical Islamism. Oxford: United Kingdom. Oxford University Press. 2018. 168. 

12 Herf, Jeffery. Nazi Propaganda For the Arab World: With a New Preface. New Haven: Connecticut. Yale University Press. 2010. 24. 

13 Achcar,Gilbert. Translated by Goshgarian, G.M. The Arabs and the Holocaust: The Arab-Israeli War of Narratives. New York: New York.  Metropolitan Books and Henry Holt and Company. 2009. 135 to 137. 

14 Achcar, Gilbert. Translated by Goshgarian, G.M. The Arabs and the Holocaust: The Arab-Israeli War of Narratives. New York: New York. Metropolitan Books and Henry Holt and Company. 2009. 137. 

15 Herf, Jeffery. Nazi Propaganda For the Arab World With a New Preface.  New Haven: Connecticut. Yale University Press. 2010. 57.

16 Herf, Jeffery. Nazi Propaganda For the Arab World with a New Preface. New Haven: Connecticut. Yale University Press. 2010. 2. 

17 Herf, Jeffery. Nazi Propaganda For the Arab World With a New Preface. New Haven: Connecticut. Yale University Press. 2010. 76 to 78. 

18 Herf, Jeffery. Nazi Propaganda for the Arab World: With a  New Preface. New Haven: Connecticut. Yale University Press. 2010. 259. 

19 Herf, Jeffery. Nazi Propaganda for the Arab World: With a New Preface. New Haven: Connecticut. Yale University Press. 2010. 255. 

References

Achcar, Gilbert. Translated by Goshgarian, G.M. The Arabs and the Holocaust: The Arab-Israeli War of Narratives.  New York: New York. Metropolitan Books and Henry Holt  and Company. 2009. 

Calvert, John. Sayyid Qutb and the Origins of Radical Islamism. Oxford: United Kingdom. Oxford University Press. 2018.

Herf, Jeffery. Nazi Propaganda For the Arab World: With a New Preface. New Haven: Connecticut. Yale University Press. 2010. 

Mohring, Hannes. Translated by Bachrach, David S. Introduction by Cobb, Paul M. Saladin: the Sultan and His Times, 1138-1193. Baltimore: Maryland. John Hopkins University Press. 2005.

Poole-Lane, Stanley. Saladin and the Fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. New York: New York. G.P. Putnam and Sons, 1898. This edition published in 2017. 

Shaddad, Ibn Baha al-Din. Translated by Richards, D.S. The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin. New York: New York. Routledge: Taylor & Francis Group. 2002 and 2016. 

Tolan, John V. Mirror of Chivalry: Salah al-Din, in the Medieval European Imagination”, Images of the Other: Europe and the Muslim World before 1700 (Cairo Papers in Social Science 19:2) Frasetto, Michael and Blanke, David. eds. (Cairo Egypt: American University in Cairo Press 1996). 7-38. 

Tolan, John. V. Sons of Ishmael: Muslims through European Eyes in the Middle Ages. Gainesville: Florida. University Press of Florida. 2008. 

Posted
AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones

Even before the guns fell silent in 1918, historians have debated the “true” causes of the First World War. In attempting to point a blaming finger, these academics also reflected the times they lived in. So where does the historiographical debate on the origins of World War I stand now? Avan Fata explains. 

Depiction of Gavrilo Princip killing Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914. An image from Domenica del Corriere, an Italian newspaper. Image by Achille Beltrame.

Depiction of Gavrilo Princip killing Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914. An image from Domenica del Corriere, an Italian newspaper. Image by Achille Beltrame.

The narrative remains unchanged: on 28 June 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir apparent to the Austro-Hungarian throne, was assassinated in Sarajevo alongside his wife Countess Sophie by Gavrilo Princip. Just a month later, the so-called “July Crisis” ended with Austria-Hungary’s declaration of war on Serbia. Yet what could have been a “Third Balkan War” instead escalated into a continental war, as the other great powers of Europe joined the conflict.[1] It is not uncommon for writers or documentary-makers to utilize cliché metaphors or dramatic phrases to underscore the sheer scale, brutality, and impact of the fighting between 1914-1918. Indeed, it is perhaps the event which laid the foundations for the conflicts, revolutions, and transformations which characterized the “short 20th century”, to borrow a phrase from Eric Hobsbawm.[2] It is no surprise then, that even before the Treaty of Versailles had been signed to formally end the war, people were asking a duo of questions which continues to generate debate to this day.

 

How did the war start? Why did it start?

Yet in attempting to answer those questions, postwar academics and politicians inevitably began to write with the mood of their times. In Weimar Germany for example, historians seeking to exonerate the previous German Empire for the blame that the Diktat von Versailles had supposedly attached to them were generously funded by the government and given unprecedented access to the archives; so long as their ‘findings’ showed that Germany was not to blame.[3] In attempting to answer how the war had started, these writers were all haunted by the question which their theses, source selection, and areas of focus directly implied: who started it? This article traces the evolution of those arguments and the contours of the debate around the events which began with a shooting in Sarajevo. 

 

Wartime Justification, Postwar Ponderance

The debate over the origins of the First World War began even while the war was being fought by the great powers. Governments of the great powers, in seeking to portray their involvement in the war as a just and noble act of self-defense, called upon historians to justify the country’s fighting as a just and moral decision.[4]

In some cases, this produced about-turns in the historical writings of entire academic communities. Herbert Fisher, a noted British historian who had praised Germany’s rise to power in the years before the war, changed his tone in a 1914 article titled The War, where he noted that: 

"Prussia has been made by the sword...That is one of the unalterable facts of history graven upon the mind of every German schoolboy, and shaping his whole outlook on the world.[5]"

 

These arguments were not debates in the traditional sense. How could they be? With the war still raging, historians were unable to engage in the international realm of discussion that had flourished in the prewar years. However, by the time the guns fell silent and the Treaty of Versailles had brought the war to an end, the opportunity arose for new debates on the origins of the War to End All Wars. 

During the interwar years, governments still sought to remove themselves of the blame of “starting” the war. They amassed multi-volume collections of thousands of archived materials (many of which had been previously classified), publishing them in the hopes that historians would find proof that their country had not been the one to engulf Europe in flames. Chief among these collections was the forty-volume Die Grosse Politik, published by the Weimar government, which contained documents dating from 1871-1914.[6]

These sources, previously inaccessible during the war, gave rise to new strains of historiography, which began to re-assess the "justifications" produced by each nation at the beginning of the war. In Britain, these collections of sources generated debates on the extent to which the German nation could be blamed for the First World War. This crusade's most prominent leader was George Peabody Gooch, a former Liberal M.P and author of distinguished historical works.[7] One of the first revisionists on the First World War, he argued alongside William Harbutt Dawson (another prominent historian on German), Raymond Beazely, and a few other British historians that the Germans were not the sole arbiters of war, and as such the peace treaty of Versailles was a flawed one.[8] Unsurprisingly, liberal parties in the Weimar Republic (and followers of a rising Nazi party) cheered the rise of these revisionist "Collective War Guilt" theses. German historians for their part, were re-mobilized to support and propagate these theses (with noticeably more nationalistic overtones). As historian Dennis Showalter describes:

"Strongly nationalistic and patriotic in orientation, matchless researchers and unrivaled polemics - controversy has long been an art form among German intellectuals - the pundits and professors rallied behind a cause lost by the soldiers. Given a previously unheard of access to government documents and frequently supported by government money, a generation of revisionists challenged and denied Germany's sole responsibility.[9]

 

An Unavoidable War? 

In the 1930s, these revisionist historians found a way to wash their nations conscience clean of the war. They pointed towards “larger forces”, the “mass demands” which had compelled the statesmen of 1914 to declare war. These forces, among them Social Darwinism, nationalism, and imperialism, provided the perfect solution. By assigning blame to these invisible movements and not a physical group or nation, the problem of “war guilt” could be swept neatly aside.[10]

Politicians also helped give rise to another historiographical norm during the 1930s, the idea of an “inadvertent war”. Simply put, they portrayed the decisions for war not as deliberate, measured choices made by well-informed statesmen, but as decisions made in the dark by leaders who were unaware of the consequences. Going further, several historians propagated the belief that the military had manipulated the civilian leaders into declaring war, or, as George Quester puts it: “at the decisive moment the military took over the direction of affairs and imposed their law.”[11]

 

Fischer, Taylor, and Historiography during the Cold War

As the Second World War gave way to the Cold War, First World War historiography was revived. Fritz Fischer is the name most associated with this revival, in part due to his namesake "Fischer Thesis", which argued that Germany was, as the first non-German historians had argued during the war, the responsible nation. This of course went against the previously accepted idea that the war had been the collective fault of the governments at the time, and Fischer's book Griff Nach der Weltmacht (Germany's War Aims in the First World War) was hotly debated by other European and American historians alike.[12]

In an era of antiwar sentiments, the First World War was now viewed as something of a pointless conflict, with many in the public pointing towards the interwar instability and Second World War as proof of how hollow the soldiers’ sacrifice had been a half century earlier.[13] With this prevailing mood, the “inadvertent war” theses found greater popularity. A notable work in this regard is A.J.P Taylor’s “War by Timetable”, which proposed that the Great War had been inevitable, accelerated greatly by the meticulous and inflexible mobilization plans that Europe’s powers had developed by 1914.[14]

Beyond the academic debate, the Cold War also influenced popular-history works on the July Crisis. Chief among them is Barbara Tuchman’s The Guns of August, which not only agreed with the “inadvertent war” theses, but portrayed Germany as a “barbaric” and warmongering European power whose armies marched “like predatory ants” across Belgium.[15] To a Western public that was locked in a geopolitical standoff with the monolithic empire of the Soviet Union, such rhetoric may have resonated well.

 

Current Historiography

In the 1990s, the debate over the origins of World War I began to shift towards what it is in the 21st century. With the Cold War having ended, historians were able to adopt a more disinterested yet critical view of 1914, and the resulting journal articles and theses made several things clear: 

1.     The “larger forces” which had once borne the responsibility of starting the conflict were dismissed. The war was a result of deliberate decisions made by government officials who had a good understanding of what they were getting into. Whilst the “mass demands” may have influenced their mentalities, they did not “force” war as previous historians had argued. 

2.     The military staffs, far from “taking control” of the decision-making bodies, continued to operate within their official capacities. At no point in any of the to-be belligerents did the military concerns override the diplomatic ones that the civilian statesmen possessed.

3.     The diplomatic mentality of the statesmen had been influenced, to varying degrees, by previous diplomatic crises of the 20th century, and investigating why these precedents failed in 1914 is thus a key focus.

 

Further, as a result of the distance from the First World War, historians in the 1990s emphasized a multinational approach to the matter. No country operated in isolation, and its diplomatic decisions in the lead up to war were influenced by the decisions that the other parties had made. As such, the common trope of assigning “war guilt” is noticeably absent in writings from the 1990s, replaced instead with critical analyses of why and how 1914 differed from a decision-making standpoint in each of the halls of power. 

Thus, there we have a general overview of how the focuses of historiography on the First World War have shifted in the past century, and it would perhaps not be too far-fetched to suggest that these focuses may very well change within the next century too. The next part shall deal with how the current historiography approaches the July Crisis in both its practices and focuses. 

 

What do you think of World War One historiography? Let us know below.


[1] The other “great powers” in question are Russia, Germany, Britain, and France; joined by the United States in 1917. Other “lesser” powers, whose contributions were still considerable, later included the Ottoman Empire, Bulgaria, Romania, Italy, and Japan. This classification taken from Richard F. Hamilton and Holger H. Herwig (eds.), The Origins of World War I (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 46-50.

[2] The term was first utilized in Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Extremes: The Short Twentieth Century (London: Abacus).

[3] Margaret MacMillan, The War That Ended Peace: How Europe Abandoned Peace for the First World War (London: Profile Books, 2014), xxix.

[4] Dennis Showalter, “The Great War and its Historiography.” The Historian 68, no. 4 (2006): 713-715

[5] Quoted in Steven W. Siak. “’The Blood That Is in Our Veins Comes from German Ancestors’: British Historians and the Coming of the First World War.” Albion: A Quarterly Journal Concerned with British Studies 30, no. 2 (1998): 226-7

[6] Another noteworthy synthesis of such source materials is Luigi Alberini’s three-volume The Origins of the War of 1914 (1942 – 1943), which for a time remained the work to consult on the matter.

[7] Heather Jones, “As the Centenary Approaches: The Regeneration of First World War Historiography.” The Historical Journal 56 no. 3 (2013): 860-863

[8] Catherine Ann Cline, “British Historians and the Treaty of Versailles.” Albion: A Quarterly Journal Concerned with British Studies 20, no. 1 (1988): 46-50

[9] Showalter, “The Great War and Its Historiography.”, 716.

[10] Hamilton and Herwig, The Origins of World War I, 25-33.

[11] Quoted in Hamilton and Herwig, The Origins of World War I, 450.

[12] Frederick A. Hale, “Fritz Fischer and the Historiography of World War One.” The History Teacher 9, no. 2 (1976): 258-260.

[13] Alan Kramer, “Recent Historiography of the First World War (Part I),” Journal of Modern European History / Zeitschrift Für Moderne Europäische Geschichte / Revue D'histoire Européenne Contemporaine 12, no. 2 (2014): 160-161.

[14] Frederick Hale, ”Fritz Fischer and the Historiography of World War One,” The History Teacher 9, no. 2 (1976): 262-267.

[15] These quotations and poor view of the work are taken from Ulrich Trumpener, “The Guns of August by Barbara W. Tuchman,” The Journal of Modern History 35, no. 1 (Mar. 1963): 94-95. 

References

Cline, Catherine Ann. “British Historians and the Treaty of Versailles.” Albion: A Quarterly                           Journal Concerned with British Studies 20, no. 1 (1988): 46-50.                                                                                   https://www.jstor.org/stable/4049797.

Hale, Frederick A. "Fritz Fischer and the Historiography of World War One." The History                 Teacher 9, no. 2 (1976): 258-79.  https://www.jstor.org/stable/492292

Herwig, Holger H., and Hamilton, Richard F., eds. The Origins of World War I. Cambridge:             Cambridge University Press, 2003.

Jones, Heather. "As The Centenary Approaches: The Regeneration of First World War                   Historiography." The Historical Journal 56, no. 3 (2013): 857-                  78.http://www.jstor.org/stable/24529097.

Kramer, Alan. "Recent Historiography of the First World War (Part I)." Journal of Modern             European History / Zeitschrift Für Moderne Europäische Geschichte / Revue D'histoire   Européenne Contemporaine 12, no. 1 (2014): 5-                28. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26266110.

MacMillan, Margaret. The War That Ended Peace: How Europe Abandoned Peace for the                First World War. London: Profile Books Ltd., 2014.

Showalter, Dennis. "The Great War and Its Historiography." The Historian 68, no. 4 (2006):        713-21. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24453743.

Steven W. Siak. ""The Blood That Is in Our Veins Comes from German Ancestors": British              Historians and the Coming of the First World War." Albion: A Quarterly Journal                                Concerned with British Studies 30, no. 2 (1998): 221-52.                 https://www.jstor.org/stable/4053522.

Trumpener, Ulrich. “The Guns of August by Barbara W. Tuchman.” The Journal of Modern History 35, no. 1 (1963): 94-95.https://doi.org/10.1086/243637.

Emperor Trajan led the Roman Empire from 98 to 117 AD, and played an important role in maintaining and expanding the Roman Empire. Here, Dylan Wardle looks at what he did and considers whether he was a good or bad emperor.

Trajan, in military clothes, in the Xanten Archaeological Park. Source: Hartmann Linge, available here.

Trajan, in military clothes, in the Xanten Archaeological Park. Source: Hartmann Linge, available here.

His Rise To Power

The great Roman Empire began in 27 BC and was the post-republican period of ancient Rome. Since its formation, it had undergone many changes and vast amounts of hardship. War, turmoil, plague, and betrayal; Rome had experienced it all.

Most people are aware of the Roman Empire and what it consisted of. Many know of its aesthetic and agricultural expertise and that it was one of the largest empires in history.

Very few, however, know just how big the empire was. At the height of its power, it reached from Scotland to the Caspian Sea. The Roman legions and their wartime capabilities were feared by many.

But who was it exactly that allowed Rome to become such a superpower? Who ruled at the height of Rome’s potential?

The name you are looking for is Marcus Ulpius Trajanus, more commonly known as Emperor Trajan. Born on September 18, 53 AD, Marcus eventually spent his early life serving the Roman Empire by participating in various battles on the empire’s frontier.

It wasn’t until the year 89 AD when Marcus marched upon Rhine. His reasons for the march were paramount: to assist Domitian (the current emperor) in his fight against Saturninus (a German rebel governor).

It was soon after this event that Marcus was granted the honor of praetor and then in 91 AD was made consul.

5 years after, Domitian was assassinated and Nerva (Marcus’ adoptive father) became ruler. Nerva then proceeded to make Marcus Ulpius Trajanus governor of northern Germany. Marcus was eventually named Nerva’s successor and so, on the day of Nerva’s death, Marcus became emperor Trajan.

 

His Reign

Emperor Trajan ruled for a total of 19 years and was admired by many and was observed to be Rome’s kindest and wisest emperor. He encouraged the construction of formidable roads, aqueducts, and harbors as well as implementing the alimenta. The alimenta, which was a Roman welfare program, was inaugurated soon after the Dacian wars. It implemented many necessities for the empire’s recovery after the wars and provided aspects such as funds, food and improved education to children and orphans. Most of this was paid for via the spoils of war.

He was also known for his conquests to expand the empire to the East. The Roman Empire witnessed 6 years of peace and tranquility after the Second Dacian War. That was until the year 114 AD, which started the war against the Parthian dynasty. But what started this final conflict before Trajan’s death? What instigated a brutal and intemperate series of events that would last 3 years?

We must first turn our attention to Armenia, which is located in South Caucasus. At the time, it was a Roman buffer state. The Parthian dynasty placed one of their own on the throne, which aggravated the opposing side.

Trajan, in the year 114 AD, sent his troops to Armenia for an all-out invasion and was soon named a Roman province.

The following year, he proceeded to invade Northern Mesopotamia (which is now commonly known as part of the Middle East) and claimed it as another Roman province. It then wasn’t long until the Romans captured Ctesiphon, the Parthian capital.

After many more conflicts of the war, followed by a few rebellions, Trajan died in the year 117 AD on his return to Rome. He died of a stroke but many at the time suspected poison.

A few years prior to this (specifically in the year 112 AD) Trajan’s forum was formed. It was 300 meters in length and 185 meters wide. It was here that Trajan’s column was constructed which was the resting place of the emperor.

Trajan’s column was to commemorate his 2 victories against the Dacians.

 

Good Or Bad?

It is difficult to say whether or not Trajan was a good or bad emperor. He accomplished some spectacular feats and sought to see Rome reach a cosmic level of power. Despite the multiple wars he found himself in, the proceeds all went towards better roads and bridges and even harbors from modern-day Spain to the Balkans.

He was an extremely generous emperor too, as he even increased the total amount of grain handed out to peasants. One act of generosity that caught most off guard was that he remitted the gold sent to emperors on their accession back to the people and cities from whence it came.

He may have come across as kind and wise but nonetheless, he was as strict as they come. He had a true burning passion for war and thrived on battle, especially during his early years as an army commander.

After the Second Dacian War, when Trajan returned to Rome, he held competitions between 10,000 gladiators for all to watch.

However, Trajan had no child and so there was no heir to the throne. He had taken a similar approach to his father and adopted a child, which was his cousin’s son Hadrian.

 

So, what do you think? Was Trajan a good emperor of Rome or a bad one? Let us know below

Posted
AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones
CategoriesBlog Post

Unsinkable Sam was a rather famous cat during World War 2. He managed to escape from three ships that were sunk. Nikhil Vemu explains this quite incredible tale.

HMS Cossack.

HMS Cossack.

Ever imagined a cat would survive bullets and bomb blasts in a battle and finally would get into someone’s good hands to lead a peaceful, Garfield-like life thereafter?

Yes, it did exist in history, but is much forgotten. Not a fiction, not a movie. It’s the cat famously named ‘Unsinkable Sam’.

Why was the cat named so?

Though the cat was first named Oscar, he’s widely known as ‘Unsinkable Sam’ because he miraculously survived threewarships sinking in World War II when countless trained navy men died of drowning.

And how he survived three times, God knows.

Basic history of the cat

Sam, when his name wasn’t Sam, worked as a ‘ship’s cat’ for the German battleship Bismarck in World War-II.

Wait.. What? Ship’s cat? Yes, ship’s cat.

Dating back from ancient times to recent history, cats were carried along on ships by shipmen. They helped control rodents on ships, which could otherwise damage vital ropes, furniture and electrical wires. They’re called ship’s cats.

Tom and jerry episode 71 cruise cat part 2 - YouTube:

Ever watched this episode of Tom & Jerry? Tom works as a ship's cat here. He tries to kill Jerry, the mischievous rodent, on the ship.>>>

The year of his birth is unknown. He started being a ship’s cat for Germany in 1941, and died in 1955 in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

He’s a black and white patched cat, and all cats are cute, at least for me. Here’s his photo.

He worked in the ships:

 

I. What happened in Bismarck?

The cat was supposed to be owned by a German crewman on Bismarck. He was on-board in May 1941 for the mission ‘Operation Rheinübung’.

After a fierce battle by that only ship with 13 British and Polish ships, only 114 of over 2,100 of Bismarck's crew survived.

Hours later, the cat was found floating on a wooden board and was rescued by the rival ship HMS Cossack of the British Royal Navy, where he was named Oscar.

 

Why was he named ‘Oscar’?

When some crewmen of HMS Cossack found the cat in the sea, they shouted, “Oscar..! Oscar..!” Why?

Oscar (also Man Overboard), in the International Code of Signals, is an exclamation used to indicate if a person has fallen off a ship and needs immediate rescue.

After they successfully pulled him up, they felt he needed a name as he would be their new ship’s cat. If he were talking tom, he’d have spoken out his name. Unfortunately, he’s not. Also, his real owner must have died. So they newly named him after the signal as Oscar.

 

II. What happened in HMS Cossack?

Days were comfortable for Oscar on HMS Cossack, but they remained so only for the next few months, until a revenge torpedo launched by the German submarine U-563, hit the ship in October 1941.

Big fires spread and they were unable to drive the ship. They tried to tow the ship towards Gibraltar, a British overseas territory. However, due to the weather conditions, they had to leave the ship behind while the crew (and the cat) were inside. An explosion has blown off one-third of its forward section, killing 159 of its crewmembers.

To everyone’s astonishment, Oscar survived this blast too. He was brought to Gibraltar’s shore, and was named ‘Unsinkable Sam’ — as he survived two ships sinking till then, and that too without anyone’s help or protection.

Sam was then transferred to the Aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal, which was coincidentally a major player along with HMS Cossack in the hunt for Bismarck.

 

III. What happened in HMS Ark Royal?

Sam spent the least time in this aircraft carrier - only one month. In November 1941, the ship was torpedoed by German submarine U-81. Attempts were made to tow the ship to the port, but rapid water inflow made it heavier and it became tougher to tow. So the Royal Navy had to leave the ship and only rescue the crew.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much loss of life this time. Only one in all the crewmen died. All the survivors, including Sam, who was found clinging to a plank, were rescued by other ships. Sam was depicted here as “angry, but quite unharmed”.

 

The end of Sam’s career as ship’s cat

After the tremendous loss of Ark Royal, Sam wasn’t used as a ship’s cat anymore. He was sent ashore to let him enjoy his retired life thereafter. He safely lived the rest of his life in the ‘Home for Sailors’ in Belfast, and died of old age in 1955.

The painting of Unsinkable Sam by the artist Georgina Shaw-Baker is still preserved by the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich.

What do you think of Unsinkable Sam? Let us know below.