Why This Historian of World War I Sees Parallels Between the U.S. Today and Germany Then
The German invasion of Belgium in 1914 provides a sobering example of where that kind of thinking may lead. Germany had no quarrel with Belgium, a peaceful neutral, but German generals had their eyes on France, and the plains of Brabant and Flanders offered a more accessible invasion route than attacking across the heavily fortified Franco-German border. To justify invading Belgium, which would violate a seventy-five year old treaty of neutrality, the Germans told themselves that necessity–nothing less than national survival–dictated their action and absolved them from blame. They construed this from the assumption that Germany was "encircled" by enemies lying in wait–Russia to the east, France to the west–and that the only choice was to strike first with staggering power, crushing each opponent in turn.
When war broke out, the German General Staff committed seven-eighths of its forces westward, betting that the Belgians would either stand aside or crumble, and that the French would collapse within six weeks, after which the victorious invaders would head east to deal with Russia. Every day counted, for six weeks was the estimated time the Russian Army would need to mount a concerted threat to Germany's eastern frontier. The military risks were breathtaking. But so were the moral and political obstacles that the generals dismissed as unimportant–not least the neutrality treaty, which the German chancellor infamously compared to a "scrap of paper." For many around the world, the remark came to symbolize a Germany that worshiped might and held law in contempt.
German strategy also placed intense pressure on the soldiery without safeguarding the populace. The troops would have to march like demons; deploy in a huge mass in the world's most densely populated country (multiplying the chances of confrontation); and engage the enemy besides. Such an assignment would have tested even experienced professionals, but most soldiers were reservists, yanked out of civilian life and flung into battle on top of fifteen- or twenty-mile-a-day marches. What was more, prewar German field manuals instructed officers to ignore the covenants protecting civilians, The Hague Conventions of 1899 and 1907, if they judged that terror was called for. This explains how the invaders could outnumber the Belgian Army by almost seven to one, yet act as if they were surrounded.
Suspicion emerged even before a shot was fired. As the Germans prepared to attack, their diplomatic representative in Brussels presented an ultimatum that demanded free passage for German troops and the possession of Belgian forts, in return for an indemnity covering damages and "stronger and more enduring" relations. When the Belgians read this note as a challenge to their neutrality and independence and chose to resist, the Germans assumed that Belgium had conspired with their enemies, further proof of "encirclement." The sense of betrayal ran so deep that from the moment German soldiers entered Belgian territory, they imagined that the populace was sniping at them. In reprisal, they killed more than five thousand civilians, deported thirteen thousand more, and burned and pillaged scores of towns and villages. This, too, the army called necessity, and virtually no one in Germany doubted the soldiers' word, despite expressions of shock from abroad. Some critics asked whether the nation that had produced Kant, Beethoven, and Goethe was civilized after all.
When France didn't fall in six weeks–or Russia, either–the Belgians were once again caught in the middle. For four years, Belgium endured a military occupation whose leaders daily invoked necessity to keep seven million people in fear for their lives, liberty, and property. Before the war, Belgium had been the world's sixth-ranked industrial power, but the Germans plundered it so thoroughly that it never regained its former place. The Belgian labor force had been known for skill and the willingness to produce for modest wages; the Germans deported more than a hundred thousand workers to make weapons or build defenses and tortured the majority who refused. Belgium had been Europe's second-oldest democracy; the Germans jailed thousands of people on contrived charges, including the failure to inform on family or neighbors. Such methods scorned even the supple Hague Conventions and were what a later generation would have recognized as totalitarian. Occupied Belgium was a forerunner of Nazi Europe.
Which is not to say that the United States pursued the same goals invading and occupying Iraq, that American soldiers behaved as brutally, or that Iraq was harmless. Nor is the scale of criminal behavior parallel by any standard. What complicates the issue is that one can question the wisdom of the invasions but not deny that the invaders had genuine security concerns. Just as we know that terrorists actively seek our injury, the Germans knew that a vocal segment of the French public had demanded revenge for their country's defeat in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71, and that a French attack was a real possibility.
But how a nation reacts to such threats makes all the difference. To suspect a plot doesn't mean that it exists, will be enacted, or that the proper response must be a quick trigger unleashing overwhelming force. Once that force has been let loose, containing or even directing it can be difficult, and should the invader allow it to get out of hand, he compromises his claims to self-defense and justice. Germany attacked partly for fear of betraying weakness, but subsequent events revealed deeper weaknesses than anyone could have guessed. Among them were a stupendous blindness to what others thought, smug faith in military power, and an equally arrogant presumption that they could control the future–all of which sound painfully familiar these days. The crimes the Germans committed as a result show how deep an otherwise civilized nation will sink to preserve myths about itself. We haven't gone that far, but we owe ourselves and our victims a good, hard look in the mirror to make sure we stop right here.