a figure of great prestige and privilege, not just in small garrison towns but even in the great, cosmopolitan city of Berlin. Officers might not beat soldiers in public any more, as they had in the eighteenth century, but they were assured of a place at the front of the queue in a store, and of a table in a restaurant. This unique attitude of arrogant invulnerability was much remarked on by visiting foreigners.
Berlin in 1914 was none the less not just a big military cantonment. It was also a great world capital and industrial centre. Especially important were dynamic new areas of manufacturing like the electrical and chemical industries. Germany quickly outstripped Britain in this ‘second industrial revolution’, and also in machine-tools and steel-making. The Reich was now the largest and most efficient industrial power in Europe and, after the United States of America, in the world. It enjoyed a literary and journalistic flowering the equal of anywhere in Europe.
So what was the problem? How did the twentieth century, which started, for Germany and for Europe, with such hope and dynamism, become the most catastrophic in history?
It is true that imperial Germany had its neuroses. So did Britain and France. Think of the Dreyfus Affair. It is true that imperial Germany was jingoistic and insecure. But anyone who looks at Britain and France at the same period will also see distasteful hyper-patriotism, and cities that were breeding-grounds for a host of verminous political movements and ominous social anxieties. 1 German society was militaristic, but then what else was the early Boy Scout movement in Britain (founded by a soldier-servant of the empire in 1907) but a system of military training for boys?
It was also true that, as a counterbalance to nationalist xenophobia, Marxist internationalism had grown into a hugely powerful politicalforce in Germany. The Social Democratic Party (SPD), founded in 1875, became the defining mass movement of the quickly expanding German working class. When the British Labour Party was not even a twinkle in Keir Hardie’s eye, the German socialist movement had a membership measured in millions, and scores of deputies in the Reichstag. Its myriad clubs, debating societies, self-help groups, trade unions, and welfare institutions amounted to an alternative society within society.
In 1881, Chancellor von Bismarck had created the world’s first comprehensive state-directed social welfare system, in great part as a means of heading off the spread of socialism among the German workers. He persuaded the Emperor to sanction a contributory welfare scheme that would protect workers from the worst consequences of poverty due to ill health or old age. In this way he hoped to bind the masses to the authoritarian status quo.
But at the same time as he introduced this welfare system, which put Germany decades ahead of the rest of the world, Bismarck made one serious mistake, which the country would pay for not just during his chancellorship but in the decades to come. The Chancellor attempted not just to hinder but to suppress the expanding socialist movement, whose members he described as ‘rats…who should be exterminated’.
After two assassination attempts against the Emperor in 1878, Bismarck seized his chance. Cynically equating the respectable Left with anarchist regicides, Bismarck enacted emergency legislation to shut down the SPD. Newspapers were banned, homes and offices searched, activists and editors thrown into jail or forced into exile (especially to America). However, it was not possible for Bismarck to stop socialists putting themselves forward for election, or to prevent the foundation of unions, so long as they were not technically affiliated to the illegal party.
The periodically renewable anti-socialist law lasted until 1890. By then thirty-five socialists, representatives of the illegal movement, sat defiantly in the Reichstag. Oppression had, in fact, only made the