The First World War: A crime so colossal that it simply overpowered the imaginations of those who lived through it and after it.
IF YOU WERE ASKED”: What emotion is appropriate for Anzac
Day? How would you answer? Pride? Respect? Gratitude? My answer has always
been, and continues to be, Anger. Bitter, searing, righteous anger at the waste
of so many young lives, and at the lies told to justify a crime so colossal
that it simply overpowered the imaginations of those who lived through it and
after it.
For more than a hundred years those lies have transformed
the terrible losses of the First World War into a perverse source of pride, respect and
gratitude. Not only have they kept the truth about the war’s origins and
objectives hidden, but they have also made it practically impossible to
challenge the official version of events. This is no small achievement when the
consequences of those events are still shaping our lives.
At the heart of the darkness that sent millions of young men
to their deaths was Great Britain’s determination to destroy the thriving German
economy and seize the strategic resources of the decrepit Ottoman Empire.
Unchecked, the German economy would have dominated the whole
of Europe by the second or third decade of the twentieth century (much as it
dominates Europe today). Even more worryingly, the German Empire’s increasingly
close economic, diplomatic and military relationship with the Ottoman Empire
would have ensured its privileged access to the strategic super-fuel of the
twentieth century – oil. From the early years of the century, therefore, the
reduction of Germany became the idée fixe
of British foreign-policy.
Great Britain’s natural ally in this policy was France.
Decisively defeated by the Germans in 1871, France was acutely aware that its
influence in Europe was steadily being eroded by Germany’s dramatic economic
growth. It’s only hope of remaining a major player in world affairs was,
therefore, to strike its neighbour a crushing blow.
France’s key strategic problem, however, was that it could
not deliver such a blow on its own – it needed allies. The first of these, the
Russian Empire, was made available by the German Emperor, Wilhelm II’s, failure
to renew his country’s crucial Reinsurance Treaty with Russia. The French were
only too happy to fill the diplomatic vacuum created by the German Emperor’s
strategic blunder.
This new Franco-Russian “understanding” suited British
interests extremely well. Not only was Germany now faced with a war on two
fronts, but, by drawing the Russians towards Europe, the French were relieving
Russian pressure on the borders of the “jewel” in Britain’s imperial crown –
India.
All that Britain required to unleash a devastating conflict
upon its most dangerous economic rival was a plausible pretext. This it
acquired by allowing the French and the Russians a free hand in the Balkans.
Europe’s flashpoint, the Balkans were the point of
intersection of multiple imperial interests: Austro-Hungarian; Russian;
Ottoman; and Serbian. Any move by the Austro-Hungarian Empire against its
ultra-nationalist neighbour, Serbia, was bound to draw in the latter’s Russian
protectors. A Russian thrust against Germany’s ally, Austria-Hungary, would,
likewise, draw Germany into the conflict. German involvement would activate the
Franco-Russian alliance – immediately plunging Germany into a strategically
perilous two-front war.
Britain knew that if Germany was to avoid being caught
between the French hammer and the Russian anvil, it would have to deliver a
knockout blow to the French before the full weight of Russia’s vast army could
be brought to bear on its eastern front. The only effective means of delivering
such a blow was to direct Germany’s army through neutral Belgium and come at
Paris from the north-west.
In other words, to enter the war with “clean hands”, Britain
had only to give France its head in the Balkans. It was pretty sure that the
French, with Russian connivance, would find a way to set Austria-Hungary at
Serbia’s throat – thereby initiating a general European war. The assassination of
the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne in the little Bosnian town of Sarajevo on
28 June 1914 by Serbian terrorists proved to be an admirably serviceable
trigger.
Once the Germans detected the preparations for a Russian
mobilisation against not only their Austro-Hungarian ally, but also themselves, the
die was cast. Germany mobilised pre-emptively, her armies smashed their way
through neutral Belgium, and Britain was supplied with the morally unassailable
excuse for doing what she had been planning to do for the best part of a decade
– unleashing war on Germany.
It was in pursuit of these blunt imperial objectives that
more than 12,000 young New Zealanders were sent to their deaths. Not for
democracy: our allies, the Russians, were governed by an absolute monarch; and
our enemies, the Germans, boasted a more inclusive franchise that Britain’s.
And certainly not for freedom: imperialism and liberty do not mix. As for the
“values” New Zealanders were supposedly defending on the slopes of Gallipoli. I’d
like to think that these: extreme racism, unthinking obedience to those in
authority; and the extension of British power across the globe; would be
rejected out-of-hand by the vast majority of modern New Zealanders.
As I note in, No Left
Turn:
A patriotic painting from the depths of the war says it
all. Entitled “The Casualty List”, it depicts a grief-stricken mother, her head
bowed before the framed photograph of her soldier son on the mantelpiece, a
copy of The New Zealand Herald
dangling limply from her hand. In the top left-hand corner of the painting we
see the moment of his death – the young hero’s body reeling backwards as his
comrades press on towards the foe. It is a sombre work, and skilfully rendered,
but it does not tell the truth about the war. Captured instead is the sense of
loss; the awful ache that clawed at the hearts of practically every New Zealand
family in the aftermath of the carnage. That much – but no more – was all the
nation was permitted to feel. Questions about what it had all been for were met
with the palliative care of capitalised nouns: Justice, Honour, Liberty,
Country, Democracy. The unbearable reality – that they had died to preserve the
prosperity of those who stayed behind – had to be, and was, suppressed.
It is still being suppressed. And if none of the arguments
advanced above are sufficient to rouse your indignation, then the ongoing and
deliberate suppression of the truth about the origins and objectives of the
First World War should make you very angry indeed.
This essay was
originally posted on The Daily Blog
of Monday, 25 April 2016.
