Category: English

Taner Akçam

Understanding the Armenian Genocide.

A new Continuity Thesis: Genocide as a process with three different layers

How are we to understand the Armenian genocide of 1915-1918 and how are we to explain it? You would be justified in saying that asking a question that’s been asked and answered numerous times already is not an exercise that should be indulged. I’m ready to accept that the answers that can be given to these questions will likely lead to comments laced with distaste like “There’s nothing new here; everything’s been said already”. But at a very minimum, one has to accept that this idea however is new: the Armenian genocide has been debated for the most part as a phenomenon that occurred between the years 1915-1918. Naturally, the historical roots were discussed and there were different explanations for the causes but in the end, the point of the discussion was to understand what had occurred between 1915-1918. In other words, the genocide was taken up and debated as an event, an occurrence that took place between 1915-1918.

What I want to do here is something different. I propose that we use the concept of genocide, not just to describe an event that took place between 1915-1918 but as a process that started in 1878 and in one respect was concluded by 1923. This 1878-1923 genocidal process was made up of a whole series of genocidal moments; on of which is the extermination of Armenians during 1915-1918. Genocide, not as an occurrence, but as a process…

Of course, we will continue to talk about the genocide of 1915-1918 but it will consist of an event that took place during what I will claim is a process that covered the period 1878 – 1923. Stated in another way, I am proposing that we examine the events of 1915-1918, not as a singular phenomenon, but as a piece of a genocidal process that started with the Treaty of Berlin dated 1878 and concluded with the Lausanne Treaty of 1923. No doubt dates have symbolic significance and they can be pulled in either direction. What’s important is that the genocide concept will be used to describe not just a single action but a whole process. The 1878-1923 genocidal process was made up of a whole series of genocidal moments. It’s possible to draw three different frameworks in order to understand and explain this process.

First however, a small note on the issue of dates. The dates 1878 and 1923, that are used as ‘bookends’ to the process, are completely symbolic and the reason is quite simple. While the origins go further back, for reasons that are known, I want to use the 1878 Treaty of Berlin as the start date. With the 61^st article of the treaty, the Armenian problem became an undeniable piece of international diplomacy and from that date forward, the great powers were not only active players who were part of the problem and process, they were the ones who also determined which direction it took.

Another significance of this date is that from that year onward, the issue started to be called the “Armenian Reform Problem”. This description provides us with the main characteristics of the period and the problem; Armenian problem was a Reform problem.

What I am suggesting here is a very simple idea: the Armenian problem should be understood and debated as a matter of reform that covered the period from 1878 – 1923. This period could be described within three different frameworks that are correlated with each other. These three separate contexts (frameworks) correspond to the three different sides of the Armenian problem.

The First Context is related to the policy directed only against the Armenians and based on a very simple idea: the Armenian problem should be understood and debated as a matter of reform that covered the period from 1878 – 1923. Without wanting to ignore the massacres that occurred elsewhere, like Sasun in 1904 and Marash in 1921, during this period three huge massacres occurred involving the Armenians. They are the massacres of the Abdülhamit period, 1894-96, wherein between 80 and 200 thousand Armenians were killed; the massacre of Adana in 1909 where 20,000 Armenians are estimated killed and the genocide of 1915-1918 which concluded with the annihilation of over one million Armenians. Up until now, these three large massacres were examined independently of each other, as unique singular phenomena. No one had tried to interpret these three events by looking through the same window.

Of course, there have been some very good attempts at explanation, which have endeavored to see and describe both the 1894-96 and 1909 massacres as preparation (rehearsal) for or precursor of the genocide of 1915-1918.  In these studies, the one thing that connected all the massacres mentioned, was the actor who played a role in organizing them and some of the features that were attributed to him.  This approach relied upon a monolithic perpetrator who was a composite of certain personality traits, regardless of differences in time and social roots (their class characters). Whether it was the Palace (Sultan Abdülhamit) or Party (Union and Progress Party), this homogenous actor killed for reasons that derived from certain personality traits that were attributed to him.

These personality traits may not only be cultural values that derive from the group, like militaristic thinking or a tendency towards violence, they may also be ideologies like Islamicism or Turkishness. I am ready to accept that these types of methods of explanation, which can be called “essentialist” in nature, can provide us with some important clues that might help us understand the behavior of just one of the actors in the process (main perpetrator group). However, I would like to state that these studies that describe the period by putting the intention and motivation of the perpetrator who performs the act, as the focus of inquiry, are ahistorical. This sort of approach is a poor substitute for explaining a multi-faceted, dynamic process that was filled with many different actors.

What is being proposed here is an explanation of 1894-96, 1909 and 1915-1918 which doesn’t rely on the intention and motivation of a single actor (perpetrator) but rather one that puts the “Armenian Reform Problem” front and center, connects it all together and includes two other actors, in addition to the Ottoman rulers: the Armenian Reform Movement and the Great Powers. They too were active actors in this process. We would need to add here, of course, the dynamic relations and mutual interactions of different religious and ethnic groups (especially Kurds and Circassians) that were part of Ottoman society. All three huge massacres came about as a result of the common denominator of the dynamic relations of these various actors.

This dynamic model with multiple actors can help a better understanding of the process and more so without falling in the denialist pitfall this approach elevates the victim group from a passive receiver at the other end of the relation, curled up in its corner waiting its destiny, into an active social factor, whose decisions and actions was also matter. It is the character of dynamic relations and interactions of different actors that determines the parameters of a process. Perpetrators never decides in a vacuum. We should never refrain from acknowledging that perpetrators actions or non-actions were also often a response to the actions of victim groups. It is the perpetrators’ perception -how they perceive and interpret the victim groups’ actions- that launched the genocidal process.

Throughout the entire process, the one thing that distinguished the relations between the actors was the different positions they took on the “Armenian Reform Problem”.  The three huge massacres were ultimately the product of the different positions that were being pushed on the reform issue and these massacres need to be interpreted from a common perspective based on this foundation.  I would argue that despite certain differences in ideological preferences or social class roots, the massacres occurred as the common response of Ottoman-Turkish rulers, both Sultans and later CUP party leaders, to the Armenian Reform Issue. The critical case here is the Adana Massacre of 1909 and whether this massacre really does perform the role of a bridge between 1894-95 and 1915-1918. It might be appropriate to say that Adana 1909 appears to be the weakest link of my continuity thesis, which is based on the “Armenian problem = Reform Problem” argument.  As known there are two different set of arguments in the assessment of the Adana massacres! While one position tends to consider Adana as a rehearsal for 1915 based on the model that I described above –especially because of the assessment of the CUP involvement in the massacre-, the other position interprets Adana as a deviation from the main process and emphasizes the special circumstances created by the 1908 revolution. The one commonality to each explanation is that both try to explain the massacre by focusing on the characteristics of its perpetrators.  I, on the other hand, am of the opinion that the Adana massacre needs to be connected on the axis of the “Armenian Reform Problem” with 1894-96 and 1915-1918.  In summary, I believe that a study which views the period of 1878 – 1923 as a genocidal process in which 1894, 1909 and 1915-1918 are the different legs of the genocidal process that can be interpreted with continuity, has yet to be done and this is what should be done.

The Second Context is that the Armenian genocide is not a stand-alone event that involved the Armenians alone; it must be treated as one part of the policies that were implemented towards other Christian communities both before and after 1878 by the Ottoman government.   Ethnic cleansing of the Greek (Rum) population of the Thrace and Aegean regions following the Balkan war of 1912; the Assyrian genocide during the First World War, the genocide of the Pontus Greeks of the Black Sea during 1921 and 1922, the burning of Izmir in 1922 and the 1924 Turkish-Greek Population Exchange are among the most well-known events of this era. If the Armenian Genocide is taken up as one part of the policies implemented against the Christian population by the Empire, it becomes comprehensible. It would be appropriate to define the period between 1878-1923 as the period of Ottoman genocide to which the Armenian Genocide constitutes one part.

Within this context, the demographic policies that were implemented during the years 1913-18, especially by way of the opportunities afforded by the First World War, played an instrumental role. What was driving these policies was an attempt to rescue an Empire that was on the verge of collapsing and falling apart by homogenizing it around a collective identity called the Turkish-Islamic synthesis. The two fundamental pillars of this homogenization was a cultural Turkishness that still maintained a connection with Islam and a Sunni interpretation of Islam. For this reason, homogenization aimed not only for the removal of Christians through forced expulsion and annihilation but also the deportation and assimilation of non-Turkish Muslims.

As a result of this demographic policy, by 1918 the ethnic makeup of Anatolia had been completely changed. The estimated 17.5 million people of Anatolia were so uprooted that by the end of the period, at least one-third of them had been re-settled elsewhere, deported or annihilated. The establishment of modern Turkey was possible as a result of these policies.

The third context interprets the Armenian genocide as part of the history of the collapse of the four large empires of Europe. By this process, which started in the middle of the 19^th century and which came to a head in 1918, the German, Austro-Hungarian, Russian and Ottoman Empires collapsed. The struggles for nation statehood which arose within each of these empires, fed by the French Revolution and its calls for equality and freedom, played an important role in this collapse. Forcibly attempting to suppress the awakening nationalist movements within their own territories nevertheless did not stop them from fanning the flames of similar movements that were occurring in rival empires, in order to promote their own expansionist visions. The nationalist awakening movements in each country turned into the direct subject of power struggles between different empires.

Among these Empires, the Ottomans ended up being the most unlucky and vulnerable. These large-scale power struggles between the empires devastated the equilibrium of the Empire. The Ottomans who were called the sick man of Europe in 1854 by the then Russian Czar, were exposed and defenseless to foreign meddling due to their weaknesses and were quite obviously negatively impacted by them. Even though Great Britain and Russia had competing interests, when it came to meddling during the entire 19^th century, they both vied for a top position. The most visible reason behind the meddling was to ameliorate the conditions of Ottoman Christians. The most common expression that was used during the frequent meetings was “to give security and content to the Christians by obtaining for them a fair share in the Administration.”[1] It was because of the Islamic institutional makeup of the state as well as the effect of Islamic culture whereby Muslims did not see Christians as equal to themselves, that Ottomans could not formulate a way to bring Christians into an equal status with Muslims.

The actual framework which drove and determined the intervention by outside powers was less about humanitarian concerns and more about calculations based upon realpolitik by the Great Powers, especially Great Britain and Russia. The Great Powers viewed the problems that the Ottoman state had with its Christians citizens as part of European security. If the Ottomans did not find a resolution to their internal problems, it could turn into an internal conflict within Europe in short order. Security concerns in Europe were one of the biggest justifications for intervention. Actually a final solution to the problem, where the territories over which there was Ottoman state sovereignty would be divided up, should have been reachable by consensus between the Great Powers. The fact that this consensus would be delayed and never reached gave the Ottomans the opportunity to exist longer.

It’s possible to trace the start of foreign interventions, for the purpose of bettering the condition of Christians within the Empire, to the insurrection of Serbs during 1804-1814. However, the Greek War for Independence in 1821-29, in particular and the intervention of the Great Powers gave rise to a new concept that is a topic of frequent discussion today: humanitarian intervention. One could say that Humanitarian Intervention, which vacillated between the imperialistic self interest of the Great Powers and the moral responsibility for helping improve the conditions of Christians living within Ottoman territories, ended up paving the way to the Armenian Genocide.

It would help to recap. The meddling of the Great Powers with the internal affairs of the Ottoman state under the rubric of Humanitarian Intervention played a very important role in the decisions leading to genocide. We can say that genocide ended up being the negative side impact of this intervention because the Ottomans perceived these interventions as a threat against the existence of their state. This threat phenomenon did not occur suddenly; it developed slowly over the course of the 19^th century.

The mindset of the Ottoman-Turkish ruling elite was formulated as a result of accumulated knowledge, which took shape from the “humanitarian intervention” of the Great Powers. This “accumulated knowledge” was the product of political developments that had a common pattern and that were observable throughout the 19^th century. Christian communities within the Ottoman territories (Serbian, Greek, Romanian and Bulgarian) engaged in demands for certain reforms to improve their social and political status. These demands for reform by Christians, which would make them both equal to Muslims and possibly allow them to become part of the administration, at least at the local level, were met with firm opposition by the central government; in many instances it led to harsh acts of suppression and massacres. These massacres meanwhile, lead to intervention by the Great Powers. Despite defining these interventions as “an obvious assault on their sovereignty rights”, because of the weakness of the Ottomans, they could not oppose them and ended up making promises of reform to Christians. As a rule however, none of the promises of reform were ever actually realized.

In reliance upon support from the Great Powers, Christians then engaged in new and even more progressive reform demands. These would lead to yet more massacres and more intervention. In many instances, this process lead the Great Powers, both singly and in concert, to declare war against the Ottomans in support of Christian societies ultimately leading to the Christian society in question being severed from the Ottomans and establishing their own independent state.

This process, which is interpreted by Christian society to be one of escape from cruelty and gain of freedom and independence, represented intolerable loss of territory for the Ottomans. This process which started with the rebellion of Serbs in 1804 and lasted through the Bulgarian insurrection of 1875, created a four-pronged pattern of “reform, massacre, intervention, secession”. The direct result of this pattern was that Ottomans began to view demands by Christians for reform as a serious threat against their own existence and security. The promise of Armenian reform in the Treaty of Berlin from 1878 was given in light of the accumulated knowledge that this pattern had created. The wishes for reform by Ottoman Christians became caught between the ‘screws’ of European internal security and Ottoman perception of being under threat. According the words of an historian known for his studies of the Ottoman security apparatus, the aftermath of the Treaty of Berlin was a muddying of the division between internal and external politics when it came to Ottoman security problems.[2]

These words from a statement in the 1890s sent by Salisbury, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, to the ambassador in Istanbul about the reforms that were about to be introduced by the Ottomans, are enough to illustrate how meaningless the boundaries that I had mentioned, had become: “I trust that the Powers will, in the first instance, come to a definite understanding, that their unanimous decision in these matters is to be final, and will be executed up to the measure of such force as the Powers have at their command.”[3]

My central argument is this: both Abdul Hamid and the Union and Progress Party which overthrew him, actually approached the Armenian problem through a threat-security perception that was constructed upon a four legged “stool” of “reform, massacre, intervention and secession” which had developed through accumulated knowledge. This is why when the Great Powers presented an ultimatum to Abdul Hamid in 1895 regarding Armenian reforms he perceived it to be a huge threat against state security and responded with massacres against Armenians. The famous words attributed to him, “under no circumstances would he yield to… pressure, and that he would rather die than introduce far-reaching reforms in Armenia.[4] The position of the Union and Progress party which came to power in 1908 was no different.

The requests by Armenians for reforms, especially just after the defeat of the Balkan War of 1912 in which so much territory was lost and the Armenian reform meetings by the Great Powers which started in the summer of 1913 were perceived by the Unionists as the appearance of a new threat to the country’s security. Moreover, the reform negotiations of 1913 took the 1895 Reform Package as their basis. The imminent result was that Armenians were viewed by the Union and Progress Party as the main source and responsibility for a new fatal threat towards the Empire.

When the reform negotiations of 1913 concluded with the signing of a reform agreement in February 1914, the problem for the Unionists had turned into finding a way to remove this threat completely and ensuring security for the Empire. In the atmosphere of the First World War, instead of pursuing temporary measures, as had been done the past, a permanent solution was sought for the Armenian Reform Question and the problems around security that it had created. What the Unionists were searching for “wasn’t just temporary security….it was, as the Nazi elites had called permanent security.”[5] Genocide, quite obviously, represents a marked departure from consensus building and compromise through political means between differing groups. It is a solution for security that seeks permanency through the complete destruction of the perceived threat.[6]

In summary, the Armenian Genocide came about as the product of the accumulated knowledge of the “four legged stool’ of “reform, massacres, intervention and secession” or stated in another way as a result of the “memory of a century of trauma”. It was as if the Armenians were the remaining representatives of the entire 19^th century’s worth of “unfaithful” Christians and so therefore, they needed to be annihilated, no less, as a ‘precaution’, in order to prevent the possibility of repeating the previous traumatic experiences.

The official communique written by Talat Pasha, Minister of the Interior during the years of the Genocide, to the office of the Prime Minister on May 26, 1915, carries historical importance for this reason and in some ways represents a summary of what I am arguing here. In the statement Talat describes the reason the Armenians were being deported and explains that it is directly related to the “Armenian Reform Question” which opened the way for intervention by the Great Powers. The purpose was to prevent the intervention of the Great Powers which would inevitably result in the partition of Ottoman territory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Talat states: [A]s the question of reform, which is a completely internal matter of the Ottoman State, has now become an international question, as a result of the intervention of foreign countries, and with some of the Ottoman provinces now passing under foreign influence, it is demanded that certain concessions [be granted] and that a special administrative organization be created. Nevertheless, since it has been seen through bitter experience that reforms and organizations that are created under foreign influence and pressure have led to the dividing and partition of the Ottoman homeland.”[7]

Talat relates another revelation, just before the start of the war, “deliberations were under way as to how to prepare and implement the means for eliminating this trouble [gaile – meaning the Armenian problem], which represents an important section in the list of vital questions of the Ottoman state, in a manner that is both comprehensive and absolute”; According to Talat, since the war had broken out, they had had to make do with certain provisional measures but now the time had come to give the problem “an orderly manner of arrangement in accordance with appropriate procedure and principles”.[8]

As can be seen, the decisions driving the Armenian Genocide were not directly related to the exigencies of the First World War. Rather they were directly the result of seeking a solution to the Armenian Reform Question, which was considered a huge thorn in the side of the Ottomans that had gone on for the better part of the 19^th century up to that point. The aim was to prevent the intervention of the Great Powers and the perceived inevitable secession of yet more territory from the Empire.

For this reason what I am saying is that the only way to understand the Armenian Reform Question and the Armenian genocide is if we examine it as a part of European history, in particular as a part of the policies behind humanitarian intervention by the Great Powers.

 

Bieberstein’s Report

I will try to explain my main ideas based on a report penned by German Ambassador to Istanbul Marschal von Bieberstein dated June 3, 1909.

The report starts with the words “during the past few days [so June 1909) a topic which had not awakened much interest in either the press or the public was being debated in the Grand National Assembly, however I later learned it was of the utmost political importance” and he presents very detailed information about the subject. The Assembly debate that Bieberstein was talking about was about a reform bill on the measures that needed to be taken in the 6 provinces where the Armenian population was greatest.

According to the bill, councils were going to be sent to these provinces, comprised in half, of state employees and the half consisting of parliamentarians. These councils were going to study the administrative issues and the relations between different ethnic and religious groups in these provinces. These commissions were going to possess certain authorities such as the ability to remove individuals, like the Governor or other staff, from their positions, appoint others and monitor court decisions. At the conclusion of their reviews, they were going to present suggestions of legal proposals necessary in furtherance of reform.

According to Bieberstein, the proposal about the councils to be sent to 6 Provinces was presented to the Assembly by the Kamil Pasha government on February 13, 1909. As is known, between this date and the month of June, when it was formally rejected, Kamil Pasha resigned, a military insurrection occurred in Istanbul on April 13 and a massacre in Adana, between April 13 – 26, 1909, resulted in around 20,000 Armenians being killed. During the debates in the Assembly in June, a new government was in place and the new Interior Minister Ferid Pasha declared to Parliament that the reform bill was being withdrawn.

Bieberstein reports that he had a very intimate (vertraulich) meeting over the topic with the Minister of the Interior Ferid Pasha. Ferid Pasha, who called the reform proposal as pro-Armenian, inform Bieberstein that according to this plan prepared by previous government the Armenian parliamentarians were targeted to be chosen for the commissions and selecting and sending commissions like this was as good as starting Muslim Armenian conflicts in the region. And this was the reason why the new government withdraw it from the parliament. According to Pasha the law proposal was prepared by the Grand Vizier of that era, Kamil Pasha, with Sir Gerald Lowther, the Ambassador to Istanbul from Great Britain and that Kamil Pasha had given a formal promise to Lowther that he was going to bring the bill to the Assembly and do whatever it takes to ensure its passage.

In addition to all of this detailed information, Bieberstein informs us that the British were behind the military insurrection in Istanbul on April 13^st. According to him, both Kamil Pasha and Lowther were working together against the Unionists in order to bring back the Abdul Hamid regime. Even though the argument that the British had a hand in the military insurrection of April 13^st is very speculative what Biberstein has to say about the reform bill is very important: “here the British are going to [ruin] the internal peace of Turkey and along with this, we catch them in the midst of committing an act that is meant to thrust the new system into danger [with new system he was referring to the revolution of 1908 – Taner Akçam]. The entire world knows that the devastating Armenian massacres that occurred in 1895 and 1896 followed immediately after and were directly related to the reforms proposed by the British for the Armenians.”

What is clear is that Bieberstein believes there is a causal (kasıl) connection between the pressure that Great Britain exerted for an Armenian reform bill on Abdul Hamid during the 1890s and the massacres of 1894-96. He then moves from this connection and comments on the reform bill before the Assembly in 1909 and makes the claim that this reform bill, which was drafted by British Ambassador Lowther, would lead to massacre.

Bieberstein’s report is extremely important from several aspects. For the first time it shines a light on an Armenian Reform initiative in 1909 that hadn’t drawn any attention in the Armenian genocide research and in fact was not known at all. We don’t know yet whether there is any connection between the Armenian Reform proposal and April 31^st uprising in Istanbul or the Adana massacres. Based on what we know, we can even argue that there could be no causal connection; however the information that he provides on the Reform plans can completes a missing link between the Abdul Hamid period of massacres and the Genocide. It can also give us the chance to look into the Adana massacres from a different perspective and to understand it as product of the revolution of 1908 and the attempt of the Young Turks to reform the entire system. Adana might be an example of local resistance of the Ottoman system against the reforms.

We possess enough information to make the direct connection between the massacres of 1895-96 and the Armenian Reform Plans of the Great Powers in 1895. The Abdul Hamid massacres began almost immediately after the reforms were formally declared, unwillingly and under duress by Abdul Hamid as a result of British insistence. It was Abdul Hamid’s response to the intervention of Great Powers for reforms.

We know also that a similar situation occurred in 1914. In some way one could consider the Armenian genocide of 1915-18 to be a response to the Armenian Reform Agreement of February 1914. More importantly, the 1895 Reform Packet was taken as the basis for reform negotiations during 1913-14. The pressure by the Great Powers in 1913-4 created exactly the same results as 1895-6 but this time due to conditions created by the war, it was bloodier and more definitive. The Ottomans were absolutely convinced that if the forced Reform initiatives of 1914 were realized, they would conclude with the loss of territory and in an environment where they could lose the war, in order to not confront a situation like this they were ready to destroy the Armenians, in an absolute way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOTES

[1] Sir P. Currie to the Earl of Kimberley, Constantinople, April 10, 1895, Great Britain, Foreign Office. Blue Book: Turkey. 1896, No. 1 (Correspondence Respecting the Introduction of Reforms in the Armenian provinces of Asiatic Turkey), London: Harrison and Sons, 1896, 19.

[2] Nadir Özbek, “Osmanlı Imparatorluğu’nda Iç Güvenlik, Siyaset ve Devlet, 1876-1909”, [Internal Security, Politics and State in the Ottoman Empire, 1878-1909] Türklük Araştırmaları Dergisi 16 (Fall 2004): 94.

[3] Great Britain, Foreign Office, Blue Book: Turkey. 1897, No. 2, Correspondence respecting the introduction of reforms in the administration of the Ottoman Empire, London: Harrison and Sons, 1897, 17.

[4] Vahakn Dadrian, The History of the Armenian Genocide. Ethnic Conflict from the Balkans to Anatolia to the Caucasus, (Providence/Oxford: Berghahn Books, 1995), 163.

[5] Dirk Moses’ “Genocide Versus Security: A False Opposition”, Margaret Lavinia Anderson, Michael Reynolds, Hans-Lukas Kiser, Peter Balakian, A. Dirk Moses & Taner Akçam (2013) Taner Akçam, The Young Turks’ Crime against Humanity: The Armenian Genocide and Ethnic Cleansing in the Ottoman Empire (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 2012), Review Forum, Journal of Genocide Research, 15:4 (2013): 493.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ati, 24 February 1920.

[8] Ibid. For a more detailed debate over the document see Taner Akçam, Young Turks’ Crime Against Humanity, Armenian Genocide and Ethnic Cleansing in the Ottoman Empire (Princeton & Oxford: Princeton Publishing House, 2012), 128-135.

 

Georges-Henri Soutou

L’ historiographie récente de la Guerre Froide. Entre révisionnisme

et nouvelles recherches

 

L’étude de la Guerre froide est en train de connaître une profonde évolution: d’une part bien sûr l’histoire des Relations internationales s’approprie de plus en plus le sujet, avec l’ouverture de nouvelles archives, à l’Est mais aussi à l’Ouest. Mais en outre la Guerre froide n’est plus le seul domaine des historiens des Relations internationales: les spécialistes de la politique intérieure des différents pays concernés s’y intéressent de plus en plus, par exemple dans les cas particulièrement significatifs de la France et de l’Italie, où la présence de forts partis communistes a fait de la Guerre froide aussi une affaire de politique intérieure.[1] Ou encore aux Etats-Unis, où la Guerre froide a généré un état d’esprit que certains considèrent comme une idéologie structurante, celle du National Security State.[2] Autre domaine bien mis en évidence désormais, comme on va le voir: la dimension culturelle de la Guerre froide (que l’on concevra comme une problématique “culture et Guerre froide”, pas comme la “culture de Guerre froide”, concept différent et tout à fait contestable).

Même les théories des sciences politiques sont concernées désormais. Une bonne mise au point nous est fournie par le livre d’Odd Arne Westad, Reviewing the Cold War. Approaches, Interpretations, Theory (2005). Le but de ce ouvrage est de réconcilier l’approche historique (à partir des archives, des schémas d’explication réalistes et positivistes) et celle des politologues spécialistes des relations internationales (théories des relations internationales, théorie des jeux, considérations sur la dissuasion, l’équilibre de la terreur, la nature du système international).

Un bon exemple des rapports réciproques entre les différentes disciplines nous est donné par la crise des missiles soviétiques à Cuba en 1962: la première étude de fond a été politologique; en 1971 Graham T. Allison (Essence of Decision: Explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis) publia un ouvrage fameux, qui ouvrit la voie à l’étude des crises, à partir d’une approche théorique.[3] Puis l’ouverture des archives permit une étude proprement historique.[4] Mais même ces études historiques ne répondaient pas à tout, et en particulier ne permettaient pas de résoudre complètement le problème des motivations ultimes de Khrouchtchev dans cette aventure, car le système soviétique rendait certains aspects du processus de décision de Moscou obscurs, même quand on a accès aux archives. D’où la nécessité de poser constamment aux historiens des questions en termes d’évolution du système soviétique et du système international, dans un aller-retour permanent entre les différentes disciplines. Les sciences politiques fournissent souvent des hypothèses, que les historiens peuvent ensuite tenter de valider ou d’invalider. Mais l’opacité du système soviétique et la complexité de la Guerre froide commandent cet aller-retour.

D’autre part la nature de la Guerre froide (conflit à la fois entre Etats, mais aussi entre idéologies et entre mouvements politiques transnationaux) fait que celle-ci échappe aux catégories classiques des relations internationales. Il faut faire intervenir à la fois l’approche réaliste (qui considère les Etats comme les acteurs essentiels du jeu international) et les approches post-nationales, qui mettent l’accent sur l’aspect idéologique et les solidarités transnationales liés à la Guerre froide. Là aussi, la collaboration avec les sciences politiques ouvre de larges perspectives. Là aussi, constamment les thèses que l’on croyait établies sont revisitées, soit à partir de nouvelles archives, soit à partir de nouvelles interrogations. Révision et réaffirmation des thèses en présence se suivent et s’entremêlent constamment.

Où trouver les débats, les pistes nouvelles? On suivra avec attention le Journal of Cold War Studies (Harvard UP), la revue Cold War History (éditée par la London School of Economics) et le Cold War History Project du Woodrow Wilson Center à Washington (avec un Bulletin et de nombreuses études en ligne).    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I) La problématique générale du révisionnisme et son évolution.

Le “révisionnisme” historique a acquis ses lettres de noblesse aux Etats-Unis après la première guerre mondiale: il s’agissait de remettre en cause la thèse officielle sur les raisons de l’intervention américaine en 1917. A la suite du rapport de la Commission Nye du Congrès en 1935, beaucoup étaient parvenus à la conclusion que Washington n’était pas entré en guerre pour défendre la Démocratie et le Droit face à l’Allemagne impériale, mais plus prosaïquement pour défendre les intérêts de Wall Street, lourdement engagée du côté des Anglais et des Français et qui craignait, en cas de défaite de ceux-ci, de ne pas revoir son argent. Ce révisionnisme (à ne pas confondre avec ce que l’on appelle couramment “révisionnisme” en France, c’est-à-dire la mise en doute des crimes nazis durant la deuxième guerre mondiale) est donc, dès l’origine, “critique”, et “à gauche”. Il est réapparu à la fin des années 50 et surtout dans les annés 60 et 70 (dans le contexte de la Guerre du Vietnam et des déchirements qu’elle a suscités aux Etats-Unis) à propos des responsabilités des uns et des autres dans le déclenchement de la Guerre froide.[5] Ce courant historiographique contesta la thèse officielle selon laquelle c’était Moscou qui avait pris l’initiative de la Guerre froide, et imputa au contraire les responsabilités du déclenchement de celle-ci aux Etats-Unis, qui auraient en fait poursuivi, sous couvert de défense du Monde libre, des objectifs expansionnistes à base d’impérialisme économique.. En outre ce courant dénonça la droitisation de la vie politique américaine à la fin des années 40, l’émergence, sous couvert de résistance face à l’URSS, d’un National Security State remettant en cause les libertés, et la chasse aux sorcières auxquels certains, comme le sénateur MacCarthy, auraient poussé, sous prétexte de lutter contre l’espionnage soviétique, mais en fait par anti-communisme et dans un objectif de répression politique et sociale.[6]

Dès les années 1980, et encore plus après la fin de la Guerre froide, avec l’ouverture des archives des pays de l’Est, les thèses révisionnistes avaient beaucoup perdu de leur crédibilité. Un ancien révisionniste modéré, John Gaddis, trouvait son chemin de Damas dans un livre fameux (We Now Know. Rethinking Cold War History. Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1997) et affirmait désormais l’écrasante responsabilité de Moscou dans la Guerre froide. Mais depuis peu le révisionnisme repart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Certes, les arguments des années 60, inspirés par des thèses quasi marxistes sur l’impérialisme économique du capitalisme américain et la volonté de conquérir les marchés ne font plus guère recette. La nouvelle approche révisionniste est plus subtile, se concentre sur des arguments politiques: les Etats-Unis auraient déclenché dès 1948 une véritable offensive politique, par la propagande et la subversion, contre l’URSS et les satellites, afin de mettre à bas la présence soviétique en Europe orientale, et pour finir le système soviétique en URSS même. Certes, des projets de ce genre ont effectivement existé, mais ils sont restés à un niveau beaucoup plus secondaire du processus de décision américain que certains ne le pensent, et toutes les opérations de déstabilisation menées contre l’URSS et les Démocraties populaires ont été tout de suite pénétrées et se sont terminées par des échecs retentissants (Tim Weiner, Legacy of Ashes. The History of the CIA, Doubleday, 2007). La CIA a réussi des opérations d’influence ou de déstabilisation en Europe occidentale et dans le Tiers Monde, mais jamais sérieusement face au Bloc soviétique.

Le nouveau révisionnisme insiste d’autre part sur l’approche culturelle: les Etats-Unis auraient cherché, par leur propagande et par leurs efforts de pénétration, à imposer leurs valeurs, leur “logiciel”. De nouveau les responsabilités des Etats-Unis passent au premier plan dans l’historiographie, tandis que l’on évoque de nouveau beaucoup moins celles de l’URSS, dont d’ailleurs les archives se referment de plus en plus depuis quelques années (alors que toutes les études précises récentes, à partir des archives, à propos des problèmes nucléaires, des crises de Berlin et de Cuba, de la Guerre des Six jours, confirment l’engagement offensif de l’URSS).[7]

Dans cette nouvelle controverse, le dernier livre de John Lewis Gaddis, The Cold War (2005), qui affirme les responsabilités soviétiques, a été très attaqué.[8] Et mon livre sur la Guerre froide (La Guerre de Cinquante Ans. Les relations Est-Ouest 1943-1990, Paris, Fayard, 2001) n’a pas plu à 100 % à tous les collègues…[9]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mais au fond on se rend compte désormais que la vraie révision de l’histoire de la Guerre froide, c’est de comprendre que pour les Etats-Unis celle-ci n’a été qu’une parenthèse: en 1945 leur projet c’était l’ONU et un monde tout entier ouvert aux valeurs et aux intérêts américains, ce n’était pas la division du monde l’Alliance atlantique. Quand ils ont dû, en 1947, admettre la réalité de la Guerre, ils s’y sont résignés, mais pour eux, dès le départ, elle ne serait que provisoire, le temps que l’URSS comprenne qu’elle ne pouvait pas la gagner et qu’elle soit obligée d’évoluer dans un sens plus compatible avec les valeurs du monde occidental. En 1947, George Kennan, le premier architecte de cette politique d’endiguement (dont le but était d’empêcher l’URSS de progresser et de gagner du temps jusqu’à sa transformation inévitable) estimait le délai nécessaire à une quinzaine d’années. C’était encore la conviction de John Foster Dulles (thèse en cours de publication de François David sur John Foster Dulles et la France) et du président Eisenhower. Dans les années 70, on devint plus pessimiste, ou plus résigné à la permanence du système soviétique. Mais Reagan renoua avec la certitude que le conflit Est-Ouest ne serait qu’une gêne provisoire, il était persuadé que les Etats-Unis l’emporteraient assez vite, et il se projetait déjà au-delà de la Guerre froide, en préparant en fait le monde d’après, celui que nous connaissons, celui de la mondialisation.[10]

Il est évident que cette vision qui relativise la place de la Guerre froide dans la vie et la politique des Etats-Unis après 1945, et qui souligne la continuité de leur vision à long terme, peut aussi être interprétée dans le sens de la permanence de leur projet impérial dirons les uns, de leur projet universaliste dirons les autres…

II) Nouvelles approches.

On constate depuis quelques années l’apparition de nouveaux courants, de nouvelles pistes de recherche, de nouvelles approches méthodologiques. Souvent passionnantes, ces nouvelles recherches retombent parfois cependant dans les travers “sociologiques” des années 60, qui sous prétexte d’étudier les régimes communistes avec les mêmes instruments que les régimes occidentaux finissaient par oublier la spécificité des sociétés et des organisations de ces pays.

Un axe particulièrement riche s’est révélé être celui du poids des considérations locales, c’est-à-dire des différentes Républiques, dans la politique extérieure soviétique. Par exemple l’offensive de Staline vers l’Iran en 1945-1946 ne s’explique pas complètement si on ne tient pas compte des problèmes des Républiques caucasiennes et des positions spécifiques de leurs dirigeants dans le système soviétique.[11] De même pour les relations tendues avec la Finlande en 1945-1948: on ne les comprend pas si on oublie le rôle personnel de Jdanov, idéologue en chef, “patron” de Léningrad, et pour cette raison chargé par Staline du dossier finlandais. Les archives locales montrent souvent une certaine autonomie de la périphérie, ou du moins qu’il existe des impulsions locales, que le Centre peut entériner.[12]

Une autre veine intéressante est le développement des études sur les partis communistes italien et français dans le contexte international, et pas seulement dans une sorte de capsule de politique intérieure détachée des grands courants internationaux de l’époque: la mise en lumière du lien étroit, consubstantiel, pour ces partis, entre politique intérieure, idéologie et politique extérieure a été une avancée considérable faisant sauter les anciennes barrières disciplinaires.[13]

Un autre axe essentiel a été la mise en lumière du rôle spécifique des pays des deux Europe, de l’Ouest mais aussi de l’Est, dans la Guerre froide. On constate de fortes nuances entre les pays d’Europe occidentale, qui n’est nullement figée dans un quelconque bloc atlantique. De nombreux travaux ont mis en valeur par exemple (outre la France et la Grande-Bretagen auxquelles tout le monde pense bien sûr en priorité) l’Italie[14] ou la Belgique, dont le rôle propre est trop souvent sous-estimé.[15] Certes, dans le cas de l’Europe de l’Est on ne peut parler d’une indépendance par rapport à Moscou comparable à celle des pays d’Europe de l’Ouest vis-à-vis de Washington, et il faut éviter la symétrie des fausses fenêtres. Néanmoins, on voit leurs divergences, que ne recouvre pas complètement, loin de là, l’idéologie commune. C’est ainsi que jamais la Pologne et la RDA “socialistes” ne purent s’entendre réellement, le poids du passé étant trop lourd, et Varsovie donnant finalement, à partir de 1969, la priorité à ses rapports avec la RFA, dans le cadre de l’Ostpolitik, Bonn étant à ses yeux la seule à pouvoir apporter des garanties à long terme à propos defrontières.[16] De même entre la Hongrie et la Roumanie.[17]

Pour toutes ces questions, on lira les volumes consacrés par un groupe international d’historiens (constitué en 1996) aux rapports spécifiques entre les deux Europe dans la Guerre froide. En effet, répétons-le, l’Europe de l’Ouest évidemment, mais même l’Europe de l’Est n’ont pas été des spectateurs purement passifs dans ce que l’on considère trop souvent comme ayant été avant tout, voire uniquement, un affrontement américano-soviétique. Lire donc: The Failure of Peace in Europe, 1943-1948, Antonio Varsori et Elena Calandri éds., Londres, Palgrave, 2002; Saki Dockrill, Robert Frank, Georges-Henri Soutou et Antonio Varsori, éds., L’Europe de l’Est et de l’Ouest dans la Guerre froide 1948-1953, Paris, PUPS, 2002; Wilfried Loth éd., Europe, Cold War and Coexistence, 1953-1965, Londres, Frank Cass; Wilfried Loth et Georges-Henri Soutou, éds., The Making of Détente. Eastern and Western Europe in the Cold War, 1965-1975, Londres, Routledge, 2008; le dernier volume, sur la période 1975-1990, est en préparation.

Autre question actuellement très explorée: la politique de l’URSS envers l’Europe. Quand paraît dans le débat, à partir de 1948-1950, la notion moderne de construction européenne, ce concept n’entre pas dans les cadres idéologiques du régime soviétique et est considéré comme un alibi, ou tout au plus comme une superstructure du capitalisme. Après 1945 en effet, la construction européenne est vue à Moscou, jusqu’au milieu des années 1980, comme un simple instrument de l’impérialisme américain. A côté de ça, l’URSS doit bien tenir compte de l’Europe, même si c’est de manière très manipulatrice et dialectique (cf. Vladislav Zubok and Constantine Pleshakov, Inside the Kremlin’s Cold War, Harvard UP, 1996; Vojtech Mastny, The Cold War and Soviet Insecurity. The Stalin Years, Oxford UP, 1996). Il y a donc bien eu une politique européenne de l’URSS (Marie-Pierre Rey, Le dilemme russe. La Russie et l’Europe occidentale d’Ivan le Terrible à Boris Eltsine, Paris, Flammarion, 2002; cf. également le dernier volume de la série d’ouvrages publiés aux PUPS de Paris IV sur les relations entre l’URSS et l’Europe depuis les années 1920: Emilia Robin Hivert et Georges-Henri Soutou (dir.), L’URSS et l’Europe de 19141 à 1957, Paris, PUPS, mars 2008).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

L’affaire est d’autant plus compliquée que dès la mort de Staline Moscou a remis au premier plan la thématique européenne, revendiquant fermement l’appartenance européenne de l’URSS. Sur le plan politique, c’est le thème de la “sécurité en Europe” qui prend alors la première place. Il s’agissait essentiellement d’un instrument idéologique et diplomatique pour introduire un coin entre l’Europe occidentale et les Etats-Unis, en conviant les Européens de l’Ouest à conclure avec Moscou des accords de sécurité, bien sûr en dehors de l’Alliance atlantique. Mais la recherche récente met également en valeur que cette politique était aussi conçue comme un modèle européen possible (Marie-Pierre Rey, “L’URSS et la sécurité européenne 1953-1956”, Communisme, no 49-50, 1997). Le thème de la sécurité en Europe a rencontré un incontestable écho, y compris en Occident, en particulier en France, mais aussi en RFA, en Grande-Bretagne et même aux Etats-Unis: cf. Pierre Mendès France et le rôle de la France dans le Monde, René Girault éd., Presses Universitaires de Grenoble, 1991 (Mendès-France, comme George Kennan et les travaillistes britanniques en 1957, souhaitaient dépasser la Guerre froide par la mise en place d’un nouveau système de sécurité en Europe). Le thème de la sécurité en Europe, sous ses différentes facettes, occupe beaucoup ma recherche actuelle sur la Guerre froide, on va y revenir.

Autre domaine porteur depuis quelques années: culture et Guerre froide, c’est-à-dire le problème des rapports, des oppositions ou parfois des influences culturelles d’un bloc à l’autre. Question complexe: la culture au sens de culture n’est pas différente entre l’Est et l’Ouest. On n’est pas à l’Est dans l’univers de Confucius mais dans celui de la culture “occidentale”. D’autre part bien des débats culturels de la Guerre froide, qui opposent les deux camps, sont aussi présents au sein du monde “libre”, comme l’est le communisme lui-même. La radicale différence entre l’Est et l’Ouest n’exclut cependant pas les rapports culturels, même ambigus, voire même une sorte de fascination réciproque. On verra Yale Richmond, Cultural Exchange and the Cold War, Penn State UP, 2003, et Jean-François Sirinelli et Georges-Henri Soutou (dir), Culture et Guerre froide, PUPS,  2008.

Autre axe encore: l’étude de la propagande et de ce que l’on pourrait appeler la “guerre politique”. On est là au coeur de la Guerre froide, qui fut de nature essentiellement politique. On l’a vu pour les Occidentaux, même si des démocraties libérales pluralistes éprouvent des difficultés à mener une guerre politique, qui ne correspond pas vraiment à leur type d’organisation.[18] En revanche les Soviétiques étaient beaucoup plus à leur affaire dans ce domaine qui relevait essentiellement du Département international du Comité central: on lira Andreï Kozovoï, Par-delà le mur. La culture de guerre froide soviétique entre deux détentes, Complexe, 2009, sur la propagande soviétique à propos des Etats-Unis (sur la base d’archives passionnantes).

L’ouverture d’archives “sensibles” a permis de commencer à étudier les plans de guerre, y compris nucléaires, des camps en présence. C’est particulièrement important pour la Guerre froide, étroitement liée dans la chronologie et dans la problématique à l’ère nucléaire. On se rend compte d’ailleurs que la dissuasion nucléaire n’excluait pas certaines hypothèses d’emploi, en particulier pour les Soviétiques, pour lesquels seule une capacité d’emploi crédible de l’arme nucléaire, avec comme objectif une véritable victoire sur l’adversaire, pouvait assurer la crédibilité de la dissuasion. Les Occidentaux raisonnaient davantage en termes de capacité de destruction mutuelle assurée, le concept de victoire à l’ère nucléaire étant pour eux dépourvu de sens, tout au moins dans leur politique déclaratoire – la réalité des plans américains en vue d’une guerre éventuelle était sans doute plus complexe.

On est là tout au début des recherches. Signalons un ouvrage essentiel, War Plans and Alliances in the Cold War. Threat Perceptions in the East and West, édité par Vojtech Mastny, Sven G. Holtsmark et Andreas Wenger, Londres, Routledge, 2006. War Plans and Alliances in the Cold War est un ouvrage collectif qui ouvre des perspectives nouvelles et essentielles sur les aspects stratégiques et nucléaires de la Guerre froide. Son grand apport repose sur l’ouverture des archives des anciennes Démocraties populaires (ce qui permet de contourner les archives russes de l’ère soviétique, encore peu accessibles). En les auteurs ont pu exhumer toute une série d’exercices organisés par le Pacte de Varsovie, et même un plan de guerre proprement dit, celui de la Tchécoslovaquie en 1964.L’ouvrage se concentre sur le théâtre européen, il ne parle que fort peu de l’affrontement bilatéral américano-soviétique en dehors de l’Europe. L’une des grandes qualités du livre est d’établir un rapport constant entre la stratégie, les relations internationales, l’organisation des alliances, en particulier le Pacte de Varsovie, et l’évolution interne particulière des pays de l’Est, avec un processus de décision toujours profondément marqué par l’idéologie, y compris et même surtout chez les responsables militaires.

L’un des grands apports méthodologiques du travail est de réévaluer l’importance des forces conventionnelles dans les stratégies du temps de la Guerre froide, parfois négligée au profit du nucléaire. L’une des principales conclusions, qui n’intéresse pas que les historiens, est que ce n’est pas, contrairement à une idée reçue, l’arme nucléaire qui a permis de maintenir la Guerre froide à ce niveau. Ce qui a permis de contenir la Guerre froide, du côté occidental, ça a été les efforts faits dans le domaine des armes conventionnelles ainsi qu’une pratique intelligente du dialogue nucléaire avec Moscou par l’Ouest.

En effet on voit maintenant évoluer la stratégie soviétique de l’intérieur, même si on n’a encore que peu d’accès aux archives de Moscou, grâce à celles des Démocraties populaires. Avant la guerre de Corée Staline est probablement dans une position militaire défensive, beaucoup plus qu’on ne l’imaginait en Occident. Mais en 1951 il pense que l’enlisement des Américains en Asie pourrait permettre de remporter de grands succès en Europe et ordonne un renforcement considérable des armées des Démocraties populaires. On avait certaines indications sur de possibles déclarations de Staline dans ce sens devant les dirigeants d’Europe orientale réunis avec lui en janvier 1951, mais ce n’étaient que des indications, on dispose maintenant du compte rendu de leur rencontre.

Après des hésitations consécutives à la mort de Staline, c’est la crise de Berlin à partir de 1958 qui fait basculer l’URSS de façon décisive dans une stratégie nucléaire d’emploi massif (cette crise apparaît en fait comme plus dangereuse que celle de Cuba). L’exercice Bouriane en 1961, qui est en fait la préparation d’une guerre possible au cas où les Occidentaux réagiraient à la signature unilatérale d’un traité de paix avec la RDA, repose sur l’emploi en grand du nucléaire. Il est confirmé par le plan de guerre effectif adopté par la Tchécoslovaquie en 1964 (bien sûr sur les indications de Moscou) qui prévoit que l’armée tchèque s’ouvrirait la voie avec des dizaines de frappes nucléaires tactiques jusqu’à Lyon (l’armée de la RDA, elle, avait en charge la prise de Paris). La posture resta toujours nucléaire jusqu’à Gorbatchev, malgré des supputations occidentales imaginant un passage à la possibilité d’une guerre non-nucléaire à partir du milieu des années 60. Mais une étude détaillée montre que les Soviétiques n’ont jamais vraiment résolu les problèmes insurmontables que pose un combat nucléaire, et que leurs plans et exercices ne conservaient leur cohérence que grâce à des hypothèses a priori, hasardeuses.

La recherche se heurte cependant toujours à certaines limites. Certes, les aspects politico-militaires ne sont pas négligés dans l’ouvrage War Plans and Alliances in the Cold War, en particulier on a de très précieuses indications concernant Brejnev et sa politique de Détente. Néanmoins, faute d’accès aux archives les plus confidentielles, le livre ne peut pas aller très loin vers le sommet du processus de décision politico-stratégique à Moscou: quel rôle les dirigeants assignaient-ils réellement aux forces armées dans leur stratégie globale? Leur posture était-elle uniquement défensive, ou bien, comme cela était encore la thèse officielle du temps de Staline, “la guerre était-elle inévitable” et conduirait-elle fatalement à la victoire du communisme, comme on l’entendit parfois insinuer à Moscou entre la fin des années 70 et le début des années 80?

Tout nouveau champ d’exploration: les aspects et enjeux économiques de la Guerre froide. On s’intéresse en particulier au COCOM, l’organisme occidental qui réglementait les exportations sensibles vers l’Est (programme international dirigé par le Prof. Luciano Segreto, de Florence). On s’intéresse également à la compétition dont on commence à se rendre compte entre les deux camps à propos des matières premières du Tiers monde dans le contexte de la décolonisation: l’URSS est très consciente de la dépendance de l’Europe occidentale envers le pétrole du Moyen-Orient, et c’est l’un des motifs de sa politique active dans la région à partir de 1955, et Eisenhower et ses successeurs sont très attentifs au problème. L’un de leurs axes, aussi bien dans leur stratégie face à l’URSS que dans leurs programmes d’aide aux pays sous-développés, sera de tout faire pour conserver l’accès aux matières premières du Tiers monde.

On note également, à l’instar de ce qui s’est fait depuis les années 1990 pour la Première guerre mondiale, l’apparition du thème de la « Guerre froide d’en bas », non pas du point de vue des dirigeants et responsables, mais du point de vue des combattants et des populations dans leur ensemble. Un ouvrage pionnier dans ce domaine : Philippe Buton, Olivier Büttner et Michel Hastings, La Guerre froide vue d’en bas, Paris, CNRS Editions, 2014. On pourra se montrer réservé : la Guerre froide n’a pas impliqué les individus au même point que la Grande guerre, et de loin. En revanche l’opposition entre les communistes et leurs alliés d’une part, et leurs adversaires

de l’autre, a eu une importance considérable dans certains pays, comme la France et l’Italie, sans cependant que les intéressés la relient forcément à la Guerre froide, plutôt qu’à une classique opposition Droite-Gauche. Ceci dit, à certains moments de grandes crises à l’Est, comme en 1956 à Budapest, 1968 à Prague, 1980 en Pologne, politique intérieure et politique extérieure se sont rejointes, avec un intérêt et une implication considérables de larges secteurs des opinions publiques.[19]

On a d’autre part ces derniers temps porté davantage l’attention sur la “périphérie” de la Guerre froide, sur le Tiers monde, qui a été au moins autant concerné que l’Europe. La Guerre froide y a été souvent en fait très chaude (que l’on pense à la Corée, à l’Indochine) et beaucoup plus sanglante qu’en Europe. La Guerre froide a contribué à accélérer la décolonisation, elle a beaucoup contribué à influencer les idéologies et les régimes des nouveaux Etats indépendants (soit qu’ils appartiennent à la mouvance soviétique, soit qu’ils aient réagi contre elle vigoureusement).[20]

Et enfin on s’intéresse depuis peu aux perspectives de dépassement de la Guerre froide que pouvaient envisager les contemporains. Les Américains, on l’a vu, pensèrent dès le début que la Guerre froide ne serait qu’un parenthèse. A partir de la rupture Tito-Staline de 1948, Washington imagina que le développement d’un communisme “national” (outre la Yougoslavie, les Etats-Unis pensèrent tout de suite à la Chine de Mao) pourrait être un moyen de réduire la puissance soviétique. Par la suite certains responsables américains (comme Sonnenfeldt, adjoint de Kissinger, en 1976) évoquèrent la possibilité d’un processus de “finlandisation” en Europe orientale: celle-ci resterait liée à l’URSS sur le plan stratégique, mais retrouverait sa liberté intérieure (un peu selon le modèle finlandais). Les Français pour leur part envisageaient plutôt des processus de “convergence”, par rapprochement des modèles économiques et sociaux des sociétés industrielles, qu’elle soient de l’Est ou de l’Ouest.[21]

C’est de ce point de vue que le processus d’Helsinki (Conférence sur la coopération et la sécurité en Europe d’Helsinki en 1975 et CSCE suivantes, jusqu’à celle de Paris en novembre 1990 qui mit en quelque sorte officiellement fin à la Guerre froide) suscite un grand intérêt, en particulier à propos du soutien qu’il a apporté aux dissidents en Europe orientale et en URSS, et du point de vue de l’émergence d’un nouveau système de sécurité en Europe, préfigurant la fin de la division du Continent.[22] De grands débats sont en cours sur l’efficacité réelle de ce processus, débats liés aux discussions sur la fin de la Guerre froide: pour certains, c’est Gorbatchev qui a joué un rôle essentiel; pour d’autres, c’est l’Amérique qui, de Reagan à George Bush le Père, a su d’abord faire reculer Moscou, puis a su gérer la fin de la Guerre froide et la réunification allemande de façon à empêcher l’URSS de monnayer la fin du communisme en Europe orientale et la réunification allemande en imposant une remise en cause des organismes occidentaux et en particulier de l’OTAN. Pour d’autres encore ce sont les dissidents d’Europe de l’Est qui ont réellement ébranlé l’édifice.[23] Pour d’autres enfin, ce sont les succès de la CEE à partir du milieu des années 1980 qui ont persuadé les Européens de l’Est qu’une autre voie que le communisme soviétique était possible.

Cela fait beaucoup de directions nouvelles, avec d’ailleurs chaque fois leurs difficultés et leurs contradictions. Mais l’ensemble de ces recherches récentes permettent de comprendre pourquoi, malgré le danger nucléaire que l’on a souligné, la Guerre froide est restée froide: parce qu’elle était de nature essentiellement idéologique et politique. Il ne s’agissait pas de détruire l’adversaire, ni même de le conquérir dans le sens traditionnel du terme, il s’agissait de le transformer de l’intérieur.

 

 

[1] Stéphane Courtois, Marc Lazar, Histoire du Parti communiste français, PUF, 1995; Communisme, no 29-31, 1992, Les crises internes des PC ouest-européens 1944-1956; Victor Zaslavsky, Lo Stalinismo e la Sinistra italiana. Dal mito dell’Urss alla fine del communismo 1945-1991, Milan, Mondadori, 2004.

[2] Daniel Yergin, Shattered Peace. The Origins of the Cold War and the national Security State, Boston, 1977. Melvyn P. Leffler, A Preponderance of Power. National Security, the Truman Administration, and the Cold War, Stanford UP, 1992.

[3] Réédité: Graham Allison, Philip Zelikow, Essence of Decision. Explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis, New York, Longman, 1999.

[4] L’Europe et la crise de Cuba, sous la direction de Maurice Vaïsse, Armand Colin, 1993. Aleksandr Fursenko, Timothy Naftali, “One Hell of a Gamble”. The Secret History of the Cuban Missile Crisis, John Murray, Londres, 1997.

[5] William Appleman Williams, The tragedy of American Diplomacy, paru en 1959; cet ouvrage pionnier fut suivi de bien d’autres, à la méthodologie et aux sources souvent d’ailleurs fort contestables: cf. l’éreintement de cette école auquel procéda Robert J. Maddox, The New Left and the Origins of the Cold War, Princeton, 1973.

[6] Marie-France Toinet, La chasse aux sorcières. Le Maccarthysme, Complexe, 1984.

[7] Aleksandr Fursenko, Timothy Naftali, “One Hell of a Gamble”. The Secret History of the Cuban Missile Crisis, John Murray, Londres, 1997; Matthias Uhl, Krieg um Berlin? Die sowjetische Militär- und Sicherheitspolitik in der zweiten Berlin-Krise 1958 bis 1962, Munich, Oldenbourg, 2008; Gideon Remez et Isabello Ginor, Foxbats over Dimona, Yale University Press, 2007; Vojtech Mastny, Sven S. Holtsmark, Andreas Wenger, éds., War Plans and Alliances in the Cold War. Threat Perceptions in the East and West, Londres, Routledge, 2006.

[8] Cf. Mon compte rendu dans Politique étrangère, 2/2006.

[9] Pierre Grosser, “Histoire de la Guerre froide ou histoire des vainqueurs?”, Critique internationale n°12 – juillet 2001

[10] Cf. Beth .A Fischer, The Reagan Reversal. Foreign Policy and the End of the Cold War, University of Missouri Press, 1997; The Last Decade of the Cold War. From Conflict Escalation to Conflict Transformation, éd. par Olav Njolstad, Londres, Frank Cass, 2004; Peter Schweizer, Reagan’s War, New York, Doubleday, 2002; Jack F. Matlock, Reagan and Gorbatchev: How the Cold War Ended, New York, Random House, 2004.

[11] Mevyn P. Leffler, David S. Painter, éds, The Origins of the Cold War, Routledge, 2005.

[12] Jukka Nevakivi éd., Finnish-Soviet Relations 1944-1948, Helsinki, 1994.

[13] Cf. par exemple Yves Santamaria, L’enfant du malheur. Le PCF dans la Lutte pour la paix (1914-1947), Paris, Seli Arslan, 2002; Yves Santamaria, Le parti de l’ennemi? Le PCF dans la lutte pour la paix, 1947-1958, Armand Colin, 2006; Victor Zaslavsky, Lo Stalinismo e la Sinistra italiana. Dal mito dell’Urss alla fine del communismo 1945-1991, Milan, Mondadori, 2004.

[14] Bruna Bagnato, Prove di Ostpolitk. Politica ed economia nella strategia italiana verso l’Unione Sovietica 1958-1963, Firenze, Leo S. Olschki editore, 2003; Leopoldo Nuti, Gli Stati Uniti e l’apertura a sinistra, Roma, Laterza, 1999; Elena Calandri, Il Mediterraneo e la difesa dell’Occidente 1947-1956, Il Maestrale, 1997.

[15] Vincent Dujardin, Pierre Harmel, Bruxelles, Le Cri, 2004.

[16] Hermann Wentker, In engen Grenzen. Die Aussenpolitik der DDR (1949-1989), Munich, Oldenbourg, 2007.

[17] Anna Fülöp, La Transylvanie dans les relations roumano-hongroises vues du Quai d’Orsay (septembre 1944-décembre 1947), Cluj-Napoca, Centre de ressources pour la diversité ethnoculturelle, 2006.

[18] Renseignement et Propagande pendant la guerre froide (1947-1953), Jean Delmas et Jean Kessler éds., Bruxelles, Complexe, 1999; Justine Faure, L’ami américain: la Tchécoslovaquie, enjeu de la diplomatie américaine, 1943-1968, Paris, Tallandier, 2004.

[19] Cf. par exemple Pierre Grémion, Paris-Prague, la Gauche face au renouveau et à la régression tchécoslovaques, Julliard, 1985.

[20] Odd Arne Westad, The Global Cold War. Third World Interventions and the Making of our Time, Cambridge UP, 2005.

[21] Georges-Henri Soutou, “Teorie sulla convergenza nella Francia degli anni Sessanta e Settanta”, Ventunesimo Secolo, mars 2006; Georges-Henri Soutou, “Convergence theories in France during the 60s and 70s”, in Wilfried Loth et Georges-Henri Soutou, éds., The Making of Détente. Eastern and Western Europe in the Cold War, 1965-1975, Londres, Routledge, 2008.

[22] Jacques Andreani, Le Piège. Helsinki et la chute du communisme, Paris, Odile Jacob, 2005; Elisabeth du Réau et Christine Manigand éds., Vers la réunification de l’Europe? Apports et limites du processus d’Helsinki de 1975 à nos jours, Paris, L’Harmattan, 2005.

[23] Mary Elise Sarotte, 1989. The Struggle to Create Post-Cold War Europe, Princeton UP, 2009.

 

 Yannis Mourélos

Le Front d’ Orient dans la Grande Guerre*

 

En ces années de commémoration du centenaire, il faut bien se rendre à l’ évidence. Dans le contexte de la Grande Guerre, Salonique n’ est qu’ un théâtre marginal. La mission de celui-ci se dresse sous des traits plutôt modestes: se mettre en situation de s’ engager afin de faciliter les opérations des autres fronts.

Atravers l’ ouverture et l’ organisation stratégique de ce théâtre, modelées toutes deux au gré des circonstances, c’ est le principe même de la conduite de la guerre qui se met en vigueur avec ses multiples prolongements: le jeu complexe des alliances, l’ inhabileté d’ établir une ligne d’ action commune à longue échéance à cause de la diversité des intérêts en jeu, les courants internes de la vie politique et leur portée sur le processus décisionnel, la stratégie périphérique avec l’ importance accordée aux fronts secondaires dans le contexte d’ un conflit généralisé, l’ unité de commandement, bref, des composantes éternelles de toute guerre de coalition.

Quelle est la justification de la présence d’ un corps expéditionnaire allié à Salonique? Jean Delmas en détermine successivement plusieurs (1). La justification initiale est simple: voler au secours des serbes, dont la situation devient intenable lorsque la Bulgarie entre en guerre en octobre 1915. A la lumière de la défaillance serbe, deux mois plus tard, et devant l’ impossibilité d’ établir la jonction sur le Haut-Vardar, les avis divergent quant à l’ avenir de l’ expédition.

A Paris, les partisans de la stratégie indirecte se prononcent en faveur du maintien et de l’ organisation du dispositif allié dans les environs de Salonique. La valeur principale de cette région, disent-ils, est plutôt celle d’ une place forte de défense, permettant l’ entreprise d’ actions offensives en temps et lieu opportuns. Choix d’ autant plus impératif qu’il permet de se mettre à l’ abri de tout fléchissement intempestif de la Roumanie et de la Grèce, fournissant à l’ adversaire l’ occasion de réaliser ses ambitions impérialistes en Orient. On reproche même au gouvernement d’ assister inactif à l’anéantissement de la Serbie. Menés par Clemenceau, les “occidentaux” s’ opposent, quant à eux, à tout engagement prématuré, même dans le cas favorable, peu probable pourtant, d’ un alignement grec. Faisant l’ objet d’ attaques de tous les côtés, le gouvernement Viviani est remplacé, fin octobre, par un cabinet Briand, mieux disposé face à un éventuel maintien de l’ expédition (2).

C’ est un refrain tout différent que l’ on entonne sur les bords de la Tamise. Chercher la victoire sur le théâtre principal en y consacrant le maximum des moyens disponibles, limiter, par ailleurs, l’ effort en Orient à la stricte défense des possessions britanniques, telle est l’ idée maîtresse devant présider à la direction des opérations. C’ est l’ avis d’ Asquith, Balfour et Curzon. Colonial de carrière et résolument opposé au principe des side shows (théâtres secondaires), Kitchener suggère le repli sur l’ Égypte, où il compte pouvoir réunir 15 divisions, une partie desquelles proviendrait justement des Balkans (3). Seule une minorité guidée par Lloyd-George se prononce en faveur d’ un envoi de renforts en Macédoine (4). Aristide Briand a toutes les peines du monde pour avorter ce projet. Il y parvient, mais de justesse, en mettant en avant un argument de poids: exercer pression sur la Grèce, très attachée à une neutralité incertaine et équivoque, et tâcher de l’ entraîner dans la coalition de l’ Entente.

De nouveau le problème fera-t-il l’ objet d’un tour d’ horizon entre Français et Britanniques du 9 au 11 décembre 1915 à Paris, où le gouvernement de Sa Gracieuse Majesté dépêche d’ urgence les deux ministres compétents, Grey et Kitchener, avec pleins pouvoirs pour fixer les mesures à prendre en vue d’ une retraite des forces alliées et de la mise en état de la défense de la ville-même de Salonique. On tombe d’ accord sur la nécessité d’ occuper les positions stratégiques autour de la ville sans préjuger la durée, plus ou moins longue, de l’ occupation. Formule qui ménage toutes les hypothèses, mais qui dissimule à peine le malaise anglais (5). C’ est ainsi que, le mois de décembre courant, le corps expéditionnaire exécute un mouvement de repli, tout en se groupant à l’ intérieur d’ un périmètre autour de Salonique. Envoyé sur place en mission spéciale, le général de Castelnau conclut sur la possibilité de tenir les positions occupées (6).

Reste à régler l’ unité de commandement. Théoriquement, celui-ci est assuré à la fois par le général commandant en chef de l’ armée française d’ Orient, le commandant supérieur des forces britanniques dans le même secteur et le vice-amiral commandant l’ escadre des Dardanelles. La campagne de Serbie, où le rôle de chaque associé avait été déterminé par Joffre n’ étant plus en cours, l’ unité de commandement s’ impose. Une étape dans ce sens semble avoir été franchie lors de l’ inspection du général de Castelnau. L’ ordre était parvenu de Londres au commandement britannique local de déférer aux propositions de l’ émissaire en matière d’ organisation défensive de la place. Nulle part ailleurs que sur un terrain étroit, à effectifs limités, dont la défense peut dépendre de la rapidité de concentration de tous les moyens sur le point de l’ attaque, la question se pose. Pressenti dans ce sens le 23 décembre, Londres acquiesce. Il se déclare, par surcroît, disposé à outrepasser au principe d’ après lequel la supériorité numérique comporte l’ exercice du commandement (le contingent britannique étant à l’ époque le plus nombreux) “en raison de l’ influence prépondérante de la France dans les décisions concernant les opérations” (7). Transfert judicieux de responsabilités? Manoeuvre habile permettant un futur désengagement militaire? Quoi qu’ il en soit, le commandement sur le front d’ Orient sera unifié à partir de janvier 1916 et son titulaire français (Sarrail, puis Guillaumat et Franchet d’ Espèrey) procède désormais comme s’ il était unique et intégré (8).

 

Une fois le corps expéditionnaire maintenu sur place, il faut bien lui assigner une mission. C’ est la deuxième justification de la présence militaire alliée dans cette région. Cette mission se dresse comme suit: causer à l’ adversaire le maximum d’ inquiétude par la menace constante d’ une attaque partant de Salonique. C’ est du bluff pur et simple aussi longtemps que cette action ne se traduit pas par une préparation réelle d’ offensive, ce qui présuppose un réajustement favorable des forces en présence.

En somme, la question est plus politique que militaire, la nouvelle donnée dans cette affaire étant désormais la Roumanie avec qui la coalition de l’ Entente engage des pourparlers qui traînent en longueur. A la volonté d’ établir un front oriental continu exprimée par Paris, Bucarest oppose sa préférence en faveur d’ une offensive en direction de la Transylvanie. Ainsi, la fonction attribuée à l’ armée d’ Orient varie-t-elle selon les diverses hypothèses. Protagoniste dans le cadre d’ un effort simultané, destiné à faire sauter le maillon bulgare, elle se voit automatiquement reléguée au second rang, chargée d’ une simple manoeuvre de diversion: enchaîner la liberté d’ action de l’ armée bulgare pour permettre à son homologue roumaine de se concentrer et pouvoir passer en action face aux Autrichiens (9).

L’ attaque allemande sur Verdun bouleverse la situation. Le commandement de Salonique reçoit l’ ordre d’ envisager une action agressive, destinée à fixer l’ adversaire, ce qui soulagerait indirectement le front français. Pour les Britanniques, absorbés par leurs problèmes en Mésopotamie, pareille initiative est hors de question. De ce fait, Sarrail est sollicité de faire savoir s’ il s’ estime en mesure de remplir cette mission avec la seule participation des forces françaises et serbes. Celui-ci répond que l’ exécution comportera une préparation méthodique et lente. Autrement dit, l’ armée d’ Orient est fatiguée. L’ état sanitaire (paludisme en particulier) a brusquement fléchi et son moral s’ en trouve atteint. Malgré l’ affaiblissement, le commandant en chef conçoit un plan rationnel avec ou sans le concours des contingents britanniques, qui consiste à prendre pied sur la frontière, mais sur un front agressif aussi étendu que possible. En attirant son dispositif, il espère pouvoir retenir le maximum des forces bulgares. L’ attaque principale aurait lieu sur la rive droite du Vardar, des attaques de diversion dans la plaine, au pied du mont Bélès. Les Serbes s’ engageraient vers l’ ouest, en direction de Monastir. On espère, ainsi, obtenir un succès local, permettant de s’ orienter et marcher vers l’ avance roumaine (10).

Cette réponse n’ a vraiment pas de quoi satisfaire. Cependant, Paris baigne dans l’ optimisme. L’ offensive victorieuse des Russes en Galicie et en Volhynie, le recul des Autrichiens en Italie, le développement de la bataille de la Somme justifient, dit-on, un nouvel examen de la question de l’ offensive dans les Balkans. En tout cas, la Roumanie semble assurée contre toute attaque sur son flanc méridional (11). En conclusion, il suffit de faire agir l’ armée d’ Orient contre les Bulgares et toutes les principales conditions formulées par la Roumanie pour se joindre à l’ Entente se trouveraient remplies. A lire Robertson, le nouveau chef de l’ EMG Impérial, “comme lors d’ autres occasions d’ examen des affaires de Salonique, les ministres français considéraient beaucoup trop les avantages et beaucoup trop peu les inconvénients” .Il ne faut guère, poursuit-il dans un effort destiné à modérer l’ élan de Paris, perdre de vue que toute action entreprise sur les pourtours doit, en fait comme en principe, être subordonnée aux opérations sur les fronts principaux dont les besoins en hommes et en munitions doivent être satisfaits avant tout autre. En conséquence, l’ étendue de la coopération sera proportionnée à la puissance et au degré d’ organisation des contingents britanniques dans le secteur de Salonique (12).

Réunis à Chantilly le 22 juillet 1916, les hauts-commandements français et britannique trancheront par un compromis:  initialement, la mission à remplir par les armées alliées en Orient consiste à couvrir la mobilisation roumaine par des opérations sur toute la longueur de la frontière grecque. Ultérieurement, lorsque la Roumanie aura commencé ses opérations au sud du Danube, l’ armée d’ Orient, combinant son action avec les forces russo-roumaines, s’ efforcera à réaliser la destruction de l’ armée bulgare. Autrement dit, la nouvelle mission assignée au corps expéditionnaire allié, une fois de plus ne dépasse pas les normes d’ une simple manoeuvre de diversion (13).

A peine fermées à Londres, les écluses ouvrent, cette fois-ci, du côté de Bucarest. Non seulement l’ armée d’ Orient doit-elle participer au complet aux opérations, mais on parvient de subordonner  l’ entrée en guerre de la Roumanie au déclenchement de cette offensive. Dans la convention militaire du 17 août, il est spécifié que les forces de Salonique attaqueront le 20 août, l’armée roumaine n’entrant en campagne qu’ une semaine plus tard seulement (14). Comble d’ infortune, ce sont les Bulgares qui anticipent en attaquant dès le 18 sur toute la longueur du front. La réaction alliée sera extrêmement lente, la ville de Monastir n’ étant atteinte qu’ en novembre seulement. L’ attitude docile des autorités helléniques à l’ égard des Germano-Bulgares dans la partie orientale de la Macédoine pose, en même temps, pour le corps expéditionnaire un problème persistant de sécurité. L’ effondrement roumain, en décembre, bouleverse la situation. Le camp retranché de Salonique redevient ce qu’ il était auparavant: le plus grand camp d’ internement allemand.

Une lueur d’ espoir persiste, malgré tout. La crise interne de la vie politique grecque, troisième et dernière justification de la présence alliée à Salonique. Une brèche qui sera exploitée à fond grâce à une dynamique implacable et à de moyens déconcertants, dans un effort d’ entraîner en guerre un pays dont on estime préférable de l’ avoir à ses côtés, plutôt que de le maintenir dans une neutralité incertaine et équivoque. Exemple typique de diplomatie conjoncturelle et inégale.

Quiconque scrute plus attentivement doit nécessairement tenir compte de certaines composantes qui font de l’ affaire grecque des années 1914-1918 un cas hors pair, à commencer par la question de la neutralité. Prêchée par la société conservatrice et, en grande partie, germanophile, cette neutralité n’ est, en fin de compte, que simple choix tactique, produit d’ une réflexion mûrie sur les conséquences d’ un alignement éventuel aux côtés des empires centraux et sur les dangers d’ une riposte dynamique provenant du camp adverse. La nature du dialogue implanté par les puissances de l’ Entente constitue le deuxième volet de cette étrange neutralité grecque. Elle en forme, en quelque sens, le contrepoids. En effet, à partir de 1916, on ne procède que par ultimata remis aux autorités d’ Athènes sous la menace des canons de l’ escadre. Langage surprenant à l’ égard d’ un neutre! Sans doute se voit-il justifié par la présence militaire alliée dans le nord du pays et les problèmes découlant de la sécurité de l’ armée d’ Orient. Il reste, pour autant, que l’ on est témoin d’ une dynamique iplacable: on ficelle progressivement le pays, le prive de ses moyens de résistance, l’ engage de vive force dans la voie de l’ intervention armée. Ultime point de référence, la crise elle-même. Sociale à l’ origine, politique par la suite, constitutionnelle enfin, à partir du moment où, dans un effort pour consolider sa propre position face à une classe moyenne en pleine mutation depuis la fin du XIXe siècle, le roi Constantin s’ acquittera délibérément de ses fonctions de surarbitre afin de se lancer, en tant que chef de parti, dans l’ arène des conflits politiques. Cette crise se verra amplifiée par le jeu dangereux d’ un homme politique, Eleuthérios Vénizélos, qui n’ hésitera guère à torpiller un régime national de l’ intérieur en relation étroite avec la coalition de l’ Entente.

Propagande et action subversive serviront de pointe à la réalisation de cette politique. Quand la propagande détient le monopole de l’ information, elle tisse un réseau de pressions psychologiques qui fait que le monde se débat dans un climat d’ artifices, de fausseté et d’ arbitraire. Elle dégénère graduellement en un art subtil de persuasion qui prétend  modeler à son gré le vrai ou le faux. En même temps, elle laisse du champ libre aux improvisations de quelque provocateur insidieux, agent de renseignements. C’ est très exactement ce qui se produira en Grèce (15). Face à une propagande allemande solide, coûteuse et à direction unique, les Français n’ ont à opposer, en Grèce, qu’ une activité ponctuelle, conduite sans concentration par différents services. Pourtant, comme Jean-Claude Montant le signale fort bien, la partie sera gagnée grâce au rôle des auxiliaires. La dynamique de la propagande française, propagande de contre-offensive, sera donnée non par les diplomates, mais par les attachés militaires et navals, mieux entraînés dans ce genre d’ action (16).

La question paraît, donc, incontournable. L’ immixtion alliée dans les affaires internes grecques constitue-t-elle un exemple d’ expansion impérialiste ou, tout simplement, une relation dictée par les nécessités d’ une guerre? La réponse n’ est pas facile. Tout compte fait, c’ est la deuxième explication qui devrait l’ emporter. Le phénomène le plus éclatant en est l’ abolition, dans les mois qui suivent l’entrée en guerre du pays, de tous les contrôles établis à l’ intérieur du territoire hellénique, restituant au pays son indépendance administrative, politique et militaire tout en lui permettant, ainsi, de reconquérir son identité. On y voit, incontestablement, les signes d’ une diplomatie conjoncturelle. Quoi qu’ il en soit, l’ adhésion finale de la Grèce, en juillet 1917, modifie les données stratégiques. Salonique peut, désormais, servir de base de départ pour des opérations plus ambitieuses.

C’ est justement la tâche confiée aux deux successeurs de Sarrail à la tête de l’ armée d’ Orient: Guillaumat et Franchet d’ Espèrey. Le premier, met en chantier une  opération combinée, à objectifs limités, le long du Vardar et sur la Strouma qu’ il pense, néanmoins, ne pouvoir lancer avant l’ automne 1918. Son commandement atteint à peine une durée de six mois. Du coup, il est considéré comme étant transitoire.A tort! Pendant son court séjour à Salonique, Guillaumat procède à une réorganisation radicale du commandement des Armées Alliées d’ Orient, étape essentielle, voire même déterminante, pour comprendre l’ issue victorieuse des opérations militaires dans ce secteur. Grâce au travail de fond, qui a précédé son arrivée sur les lieux, Franchet d’ Espèrey parvient à actionner les forces placées sous ses ordres comme un seul ensemble, chose qui s’ était jamais produite auparavant (17).

Le 27 mai 1918, une nouvelle offensive allemande se déclenche près de l’Aisne, à partir du Chemin des Dames, où, l’année précédente, les Français avaient échoué  dans une attaque meurtrière. L’offensive s’arrête pourtant dix jours plus tard, en raison de l’épuisement des assaillants, mais ceux-ci ont avancé de 45 km, enlevé Château-Thierry et sont à une distance de 70 km seulement de la capitale. Clemenceau rappelle en catastrophe Guillaumat à Paris, un des rares généraux en qui il a toute confiance. Le général Franchet d’ Espèrey, qui commandait justement le groupe d’ Armées dans le secteur du front où la percée allemande s’ était produite, est envoyé à Salonique, presque en mission de disgrâce. Pendant la première quinzaine du moi de juillet, le nouveau commandant en chef élabore un plan d’ attaque générale sur le front des Balkans. Cette fois-ci, l’ action principale de rupture aura lieu là où personne ne l’ attend, c’ est-à-dire dans le secteur central du front, en pleine montagne et face à des positions adverses fortifiées et bien taillées dans le rocher. Le choix de Franchet d’ Espèrey correspond à sa volonté de menacer directement les voies de communication de l’ armée bulgare, celle de la vallée du Vardar et celle de l’ axe Monastir-Prilep-Gradsko. De son côté, Clemenceau  tient à exploiter militairement aussi bien que politiquement un éventuel succès rapide de l’ offensive, au-delà de la mise hors cause de la Bulgarie, maillon le plus faible du dispositif ennemi dans les Balkans (18).

L’ offensive se déclenche le 14 septembre par une préparation foudroyante d’ artillerie. Cette attaque ouvre immédiatement des brèches, à travers lesquelles les fantassins s’ infiltrent dès le lendemain. A la tombée du 16 septembre, la brèche mesure une profondeur de 25 km sur une longueur de 11 km. Succès qui dépasse les prévisions les plus optimistes. Entre le 15 et le 23, l’avance est de l’ ordre de 50 km de profondeur sur l’ ensemble du front. Avant la fin du mois, Français et Serbes atteignent la ville d’ Uskub, alors que sur leur droite, les unités britanniques et grecques pénètrent en profondeur à l’ intérieur du territoire bulgare. Le 27, le gouvernement de Sofia demande un armistice. Il sera signé le surlendemain à Salonique et entrera en vigueur à partir du 30, à 12h00.

C’ est la goutte d’ eau qui fait déborder le vase. Un mois plus tard, le 30 octobre, à Moudros, c’ est le tour de l’ Empire ottoman. Suivront, en l’ espace de quelques jours seulement, l’ Autriche-Hongrie, le 3 novembre, à Villa Giusti et, finalement, l’ Allemagne, le 11 novembre,  à Rethondes. La coalition des empires centraux, nous affirme Jean-Claude Allain, se désintègre dans l’ ordre inverse de sa formation, illustrant, avant même son énoncée, la théorie des dominos (19).

Ainsi, d’ un front secondaire est partie une attaque qui s’ avère capitale dans la conclusion de la Grande Guerre. Franchet d’ Espèrey y doit son bâton de maréchal. Il est l’ instigateur d’ une manoeuvre audacieuse. Il dirige personnellement cette manoeuvre et lui imprime une vitesse qui bouscule l’ adversaire et l’ empêche de se regrouper. Il obtient la décision par une rupture de front, réalisée en pleine montagne, suivie d’ une exploitation rapide dans la brèche qui dépasse toute prévision. Une véritable guerre de mouvement en somme. Franchet d’ Espèrey réalise, en l’ occurrence, un rêve caressé vainement par ses collègues Français, Britanniques, voire même Allemands sur le front principal, pendant quatre longues et sanglantes années de guerre de tranchées presque inutile (20).

Se concentrer donc à l’ ouest, tout en menant quelques actions isolées sur les pourtours, octroyées, il faut bien le reconnaître, d’ une dose renforcée d’ improvisation, telle est la mission assignée au théâtre secondaire de Salonique, qui l’ est, certes, dans cette perspective, tout en se révélant fort essentiel dans l’ application d’ une stratégie de victoire.

 

 

                                 

 Le front d’Orient, prélude à la victoire de 1918

 

 

 

 

NOTES

 

   * Le présent texte fut l’ objet d’ une publication dans le cadre du volume collectif : Cahiers de  la Villa « Kérylos » N°26, La Grèce et la guerre, Actes du XXV e colloque de la Villa Kérylos, 3-4 octobre 2014 (M. ZINK, J. JOUANNA et Ph. CONTAMINE éd.), Paris, Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, 2015.

 

(1) Jean Delmas, “Les opérations militaires sur le front de Macédoine” dans La France et la    Grèce dans la Grande Guerre, Thessalonique, 1992, pp. 3-11.

(2) Yannis Mourélos, “Le front d’ Orient en 1916. Enjeux et stratégies” dans The Salonica Theatre of Operations and the Outcome of the Great War, Thessalonique, 2005, p. 38.

(3) Maurice Larcher, La Grande Guerre dans les Balkans, Paris, 1929, p. 101.

(4) David Lloyd-George, War Memoirs, t. 2, Londres, 1933, p. 531 et t. 4, p. 3200.

(5) Ministère de la Guerre, Les armées françaises dans la Grande Guerre (dorénavant AFGG), volume VIII, tome 1, annexe 3, No 850. Larcher, cit, pp.104 ss. William Robertson, Conduite générale de la guerre, Paris, 1929, pp. 429 ss.

(6) AFGG VIII, 1, 3, Nos 1013, 1027. Service Historique de la Défense (Section Armée de Terre), carton 5 N 147, “Rapport du général de Castelnau sur la défense de Salonique, 24 et 25 décembre 1915”. Maurice Sarrail, Mon commandement en Orient, Paris, 1920, pp. 71 ss.

(7) AFGG, VIII, 1, 3, Nos 1017, 1054, 1057.

(8) Jean-Claude Allain, “Le commandement unifié sur le front d’ Orient. Théorie et pratique en 1918”, dans Guerres mondiales et Conflits contemporains, No 168, Paris,  1992, p. 38. Sur la question du commandement consulter également Gabriel Terrail dit “Mermeix”, Le commandement unique. Sarrail et les armées d’ Orient, Paris, 1920, ainsi que la thèse volumineuse de Gérard Fassy, Le haut-commandement français en Orient (1915-1918), Paris, 2003.

(9) Jean Delmas, ” Les problèmes logistiques de l’ armée roumaine, 1916-1917″, dans  Les Fronts Invisibles, Nancy, s.d., pp. 143 ss.

(10) AFGG, VIII, 1, 3, Nos 1349, 1351, 1381, 1387. Mourélos, op. cit., pp. 44-49. Sarrail, op.cit., pp. 135 ss.

(11) Jean Delmas, ” La place de la Roumanie dans la stratégie française (1915-1916)” communication présentée dans le cadre du Colloque International d’ Histoire Militaire, tenu à Bucarest et à Sibiu en septembre 1996.

(12) AFGG, VIII, 1, 3, Nos 1374, 1376, 1377, 1382, 1384. Robertson, op. cit., p. 445.

(13) Ibid., No 1392. Ministère des Affaires étrangères, série Guerre 1914-1918, carton No 989. Protocole sur les conditions d’ entrée en guerre de la Roumanie signé le 11 août 1916 au Quai d’ Orsay entre la France et la Grande-Bretagne.

(14) AFGG, VIII, 1, 3, No 1457, Texte de la convention militaire du 4/17 août 1916 entre la France, la Grande-Bretagne, l’ Italie et la Russie.

(15) Sur l’ activité du Service de Renseignements consulter Nicolas Dujin, “Un attaché naval dans la Grande Guerre. Le commandant de Roquefeuil à Athènes (1915-1917” dans Guerres mondiales et Conflits contemporains, No 224, Paris 2006, pp. 95-109 et Yannis Mourélos, “A l’ ombre de l’ Acropole. Espionnage et contrainte politique en Grèce pendant la Grande Guerre” dans Relations Internationales, No 78, Paris-Genève, 1994, pp. 175-184.

(16) Jean-Claude Montant, Les attachés navals français au début du XXe siècle” dans Relations Internationales, No 60, Paris-Genève, 1989, pp. 424-442 et “Aspects de la propagande française en Grèce pendant la Première Guerre mondiale” dans La France et la Grèce dans la Grande Guerre, Thessalonique, 1992, pp. 61-87.

(17) Gérard Fassy, “La réorganisation du commandement des Armées Alliées d’ Orient par le général Guillaumat (janvier-mai 1918)” dans The Salonica Theatre of Operations and the Outcome of the Great War, Thessalonique, 2005, pp. 143-152.

(18) Bruno Hamard, “Le rôle des troupes de Salonique dans la victoire alliée de 1918” dans The Salonica Theatre of Operations and the Outcome of the Great War, Thessalonique, 2005, pp. 309-319.

 (19) Jean-Claude Allain, “Les armistices de la Grande Guerre de l’ Orient à l’ Occident” dans The Salonica Theatre of Operations and the Outcome of the Great War, Thessalonique, 2005, pp. 343-353.

(20) Jean Delmas,  “Les opérations militaires sur le front de Macédoine”, op.cit., pp. 10-11.

Alan Wakefield

British Strategy and Balkan Victory 1918

In this current year we have witnessed the centenary of the defeat of the Central Powers and end of the First World War. In Britain much effort was expended on national, regional and local commemorative events over the four years from 2014. Perhaps unsurprisingly, national commemorations focussed on the two battles that have shaped British understanding of the First World War for decades, namely the Somme and Passchendaele. Gallipoli and the great, yet indecisive, naval clash, the Battle of Jutland, were also commemorated. These events have one thing in common, all sit in the British popular imagination as costly failures. It was only due to pressure from a group of academics led by Professor Gary Sheffield that the Battle of Amiens, Ludendorff’s ‘Black day of the German army’, which began the 100 days advance to victory on the Western Front, was also commemorated. More widely, academics, broadcasters and the visual arts brought ‘forgotten’ stories of Indian and African involvement in the war to a wide public audience. However, we learnt little of the campaigns in East Africa, Palestine and Mesopotamia where these colonial forces played a crucial role. Likewise, mention of the Salonika Campaign was also largely missing from mainstream commemorations and media in the UK. Just as 100 years ago, events in the Balkans were overshadowed by a focus on France and Flanders. Yet, the chain of events that ended with victory against Germany on 11 November 1918 began with a successful offensive in the Balkans by Allied forces under General Louis Franchet d’Esperey.

The dramatic collapse of Bulgaria on 29 September 1918, owed much to the fighting abilities of French and Serbian troops in breeching the Bulgarian front line in mountainous terrain and the ability to maintain forward momentum, which gave German and Bulgarian forces little opportunity to establish a secure line of defence after 17 September. The British Salonika Force also played a role in d’Esperey’s offensive, attacking the strongly entrenched positions at Doiran and then pursuing retreating Bulgarian forces until the signing of an armistice. This breakthrough and decisive advance came as something of a surprise to British war leaders as a large-scale Allied offensive in the Balkans was not part of their strategic plan for 1918.

After the failure of General Maurice Sarrail’s spring 1917 offensive, which included costly attacks by the BSF at Doiran, even committed Easterners such as Prime Minister David Lloyd George gave up on Salonika as a place to secure a decisive victory against one of Germany’s allies. Instead, Easterners focussed on Palestine and the defeat of Turkey as a way of securing their strategic goal. To help provide manpower for a major offensive aimed at capturing Jerusalem, General Milne’s BSF lost two infantry divisions to the Egyptian Expeditionary Force in the summer of 1917. This sent a clear message, that little was now expected from the BSF other than simply holding the line in Macedonia.

Even prior to 1917, British interest in the Salonika Campaign was limited. When the Balkans were the centre of attention, as during attempts to entice Romania into the war during 1916, British war leaders expected French and Serbian forces to lead any military action in support of their new ally. Milne received little in the way of reinforcements, munitions or heavy artillery that would have allowed the BSF to play a significant role in any large-scale active operations. Indeed, committed Westerners including Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Field Marshal Sir William Robertson, and General Sir Douglas Haig, commanding British forces on the Western Front, had called for the redeployment of the BSF to France and Flanders ever since the defeat of Serbia in the winter of 1915. 

Come 1918 the BSF faced renewed pressure to give up its manpower for the good of Britain’s main effort on the Western Front. The collapse of Russia into the chaos of the Bolshevik Revolution and the resulting peace treaty signed by Lenin’s government with the Central Powers at Brest Litovsk on 3 March 1918 allowed Germany to move one million men west for a major offensive. The resulting attacks against sectors of the British and French line between 21 March and 18 July 1918 were increasingly desperate attempts by the Germans to score a decisive victory and bring the war to an end before overwhelming numbers of American troops reinforced the Allies and shifted the military balance permanently against Germany. In the Balkans, on 30 December 1917, Milne met with the new Allied commander, General Adolphe Guillaumat, who had replaced Sarrail eight days earlier. Guillaumat came with instructions from General Ferdinand Foch, French military representative on the Allied Supreme War Council in Paris. These stated that the primary mission of Allied forces in the Balkans was to prevent the conquest of Greece by the Central Powers. The forces were to maintain their present positions but if that proved impossible then the defence of ‘old Greece’ rather than Salonika was the priority. Only once this goal had been achieved and defensive preparations along the front completed could any potential offensive action be considered.

The defensive plans drawn up by Guillaumat and outlined in detail to Milne on 13 March 1918 were formulated to meet the perceived threat of an offensive by the Bulgarians in support of the anticipated German attack on the Western Front. Of the three defence areas outlined in the plan Milne and the BSF were to be responsible for the eastern sector running from the Aegean Sea to the River Axios. This equated to the frontline held by the BSF from early 1917 and included responsibility for the defence of Salonika. Ensuring Milne had sufficient troops for the task he was to be assigned one French and three Greek divisions. Guillaumat stressed that the defence must be active and aggressive. In response, Milne drew up a detailed appreciation of the British position and pushed forward with the construction of defenses. It is interesting to note that in his defensive scheme Guillaumat made no provision for the possible abandonment of Salonika inspite of his original instructions from the Supreme War Council.

Allied Balkan strategy began shifting towards offensive operations soon after the appointment of Foch as Allied Gereralisimo on 26 March 1918. On 4 April, Guillaumat received a letter from Foch that called for the forces under his command to increase activity such as artillery bombardments and local attacks to tie down enemy forces. Such operations would limit Bulgarian freedom of action at a time when Allied war leaders feared a Bulgarian attack in support of the continuing German offensives in France. Going further than simply calling for limited operations, Guillaumat requested information from Milne on the offensive possibilities open to the BSF. Replying on 11 April, the British commander gave an assessment of three possible areas of operation.

1. The mouth of the River Strimon

2. The Strimon Valley between Seres and Demir Hisar

3. The Doiran – Axios Front

Of these options Milne favoured the mouth of the Strimon as operations here could be supported by Royal Navy warships and his forces would be attacking weaker Bulgarian positions. Guillaumat however favoured an attack on the Doiran – Axios Front and requested Milne make preparations for a possible offensive within six to eight weeks. In reply, Milne stated it was impossible for the BSF to undertake offensive operations within such a short timescale as British troops had yet to redeploy from the Strimon Valley as this was dependent on Greek forces being ready to take over that sector and these troops were not yet available.

The idea of an offensive in the Balkans was discussed by Allied diplomatic and military representatives of the Supreme War Council between 2-4 July 1918. The British, headed by Major-General Sackville-West, argued that, rather than military action, diplomacy was the most effective way to draw war weary Bulgaria away from her allies. A week later a further meeting of the Council was attended by Guillaumat, recently appointed as Military Governor of Paris and replaced at Salonika by d’Esperey. With Guillaumat declaring his belief that any offensive in the Balkans would be successful, those present, including the British representatives, took the decision to study the question of launching a general offensive against Bulgaria. One proviso was that any such effort would not be launched until the results would be of more than purely local importance. Eight days later, Guillaumat supplied the Council’s military representatives with details of the offensive preparations he’d made before returning from Salonika. At this point, US representative, General Tasker Bliss requested the War Office ask for Milne’s views on the viability of an offensive. Up to this point the BSF’s commander had not been consulted on the matter. On 22 July, Milne’s reply was received by the Council. The British commander supported the belief that with Bulgaria increasingly war weary and Germany and Austria-Hungary fully occupied elsewhere, the time was ripe for an offensive. He also outlined his preference for an attack towards Kavalla and Drama rather than an attack at Doiran for which he had neither adequate troops or artillery. He concluded by stating his belief that the Bulgarians would fight hard in their current positions but, once the line was broken, their resistance would quickly collapse.

Three days later Milne contacted the War Office to report that he’d been instructed by d’Esperey to prepare for an offensive in the second half of September. He explained that his part of the operation, an attack at Doiran, would only be successful if the BSF was brought up to strength in terms of reinforcements and additional supplies of ammunition. However, continuing British reluctance to become involved with large-scale offensive operations in the Balkans was highlighted that same day as CIGS Sir Henry Wilson wrote an appreciation of the overall military situation for the War Cabinet. In this he declared his opposition to an offensive and outlined his plan to ‘Indianise’ the BSF, allowing the majoritry of British infantry battalions to be transferred to the Western Front. Following Wilson’s argument the War Cabinet replied to Milne stated that an offensive in the Balkans was not desirable until such time as Germany was unable to militarily assist Bulgaria. It was the belief of British war leaders that such a situation would not exist in September 1918. Milne was also warned that he was unlikely to receive any reinforcements or ammunition above the BSF’s standard allotment.

Yet, despite the British government’s reservations, on 3 August the Allies took another step towards just such an offensive. On that date the Supreme War Council unanimously passed a resolution declaring the desireability of preparing for an offensive, to be launched by 1 October 1918 at the latest. The only proviso being that no men, material or shipping necessary for the execution of operations on the Western Front be diverted to support d’Esperey’s attack. In reporting back to the War Cabinet in London, Sackville-West stated he had only signed the resolution as he’d been given to understand that an offensive was needed to maintain the morale of the recently mobilised Greek army. In addition, he reported how the representatives at the Council had been informed that Foch wished the offensive to go ahead. Knowing that such a decision was not favoured by London, Sackville-West went on to conclude, somewhat in mitigation for his action in signing the resolution, with an assessment that, as no additional troops, material or shipping would be available, the scope of any such offensive would in all likelihood be limited.

The next development from a British standpoint occurred on 4 September when an Anglo-French conference was held at 10 Downing Street. Those present included Lloyd George, Viscount Milner (Secretary of State for War), Lord Cecil (Foreign Secretary), Sir Henry Wilson, Paul Cambon (French Ambassador to London) and General Guillaumat. In a repeat of the Rome Conference (5-7 January 1917) Lloyd George was won over by a French general. This time, it was Guillaumat’s assurance that only a limited offensive was planned and any grand schemes for marching on Sofia were for the future. In discussion with the other British attendees, the Prime Minister declared that Guillaumat had convinced him of the need for a Balkan offensive. The hope was for this resumption of active operations to be coordinated with attacks on the Italian Front and in Palestine.

This decision by the British government committed Milne and the BSF to an Allied offensive whilst maintaining the stance that the BSF could expect little, if any, reinforcement in terms of manpower or artillery. Indeed, by the time Lloyd George pledged support for the attack, the BSF had lost twelve infantry battalions to the Western Front, where troops were needed to make good heavy losses suffered during the German spring offensives. All Milne could do in mitigation was to continue combing out fit men from rear area functions such as drivers from the Army Service Corps and orderlies from the Royal Army Medical Corps. Even this expedient could do little to bring many of the British infantry units up to strength as that summer, soldiers already weakened by malaria, had to face the beginnings of the Spanish influenza epidemic. In 65th Brigade of 22nd Division the rates of sickness were so serious as to cause the whole formation to be taken out of the line and be placed in isolation camps. To bring the division, which was to play a lead role in the attack at Doiran, back up to strength, 77th Brigade were temporarily transferred from 26th Division. Even so, the British force available to Milne in September 1918 looked good only on paper. In reality, the average strength of infantry battalions in XII Corps was just 450 officers and men.

Realising the weakness of Milne’s force, d’Esperey assigned the Crete and Seres Divisions of the Greek National Defence Corps to the BSF for the Doiran attack. Knowing he was to be reinforced by Greek troops, Milne requested elements of I Corps, which had served alongside the British XVI Corps in the Strimon Vallery earlier in the year. However, d’Esperey did not fully trust the new Greek army and preferred to rely on the battle experienced Venizelist volunteers, although they had no experience of operating with British troops.

If Milne’s infantry force was barely adequate for the tough task ahead, likewise the available artillery support left much to be desired. As a gunner himself, Milne realised the shortcomings of this element of the BSF. Prior to the First Battle of Doiran in April 1917, a request had gone to the War Office for 8-inch howitzers, the lightest artillery piece that could destroy the many concrete gun positions, bunkers and dugouts constructed by the Bulgarians on the Doiran battlefield. All that was received was a single four gun battery in January 1918. Modest requests for a further battery, the return of two 6-inch guns previously sent to Egypt and the substitution of a 6-inch howitzer battery with one of 8-inch howitzers fell on deaf ears. This lack of provision highlights the continued low priority of the Salonika Front to British war leaders. That the position did not change after the decision was taken to involve British forces in active operations left the BSF with little chance that operations at Doiran would be successful.

Unable to secure additional guns, Milne, in a final attempt to provide his infantry with anything near adequate artillery fire, requested additional stocks of ammunition. This would permit the artillery plan, which included two days of wire cutting, counter battery fire, destruction of key strongpoints and a creeping barrage to protect the infantry advance. Knowing he lacked heavy guns capable of knocking out emplaced Bulgarian artillery, Milne requested large numbers of gas shells. The plan was to neutralise enemy batteries through the saturation of known positions with gas, thus causing Bulgarian gunners to operate wearing respirators, which would degrade their combat capabilities. Repeated requests for ammunition from Milne during July and August, supported by d’Esperey, whose involvement led to an intervention by Clemenceau, appeared to have succeeded as the War Office promised to meet the BSF’s requirements, even in terms of 15,000 gas shells for 6-inch howitzers. The provision of these shells in particular was vital for Milne’s counter battery plan given the range and accuracy of these artillery pieces. However, promises from London proved illusory as by 15 September, only 3,000 of the shells had arrived. This threw artillery plans for Second Doiran out of sync. Too few gas shells were available for truly effecitve counter battery work and where ammunition of all types was plentiful the actual number of guns was not really sufficient to produce the required weight of fire across the frontage of attack.

Seriously let down by the War Office the BSF fought the Second Battle of Doiran to the best of its ability. In the main assault by XII Corps the Greek Serres Division distinguished itself by capturing and holding a number of key Bulgarian positions. However, the weak British battalions made little headway against determined resistance from the 9th (Pleven) Division. Units within 65th, 66th and 77th Brigades suffered over fifty per cent casualties. After the two days of fighting Anglo-Greek casualties stood at 7,103 officers and men. As Milne had predicted a victory at Doiran was beyond the capabilities of his underresourced force.

Knowing this to be the case, should he have refused giving battle? Crucially, the failure of the War Office to inform Milne of their inability to supply the necessary ammunition left the BSF’s commander with no time to replan his operations or scale down his involvement in the offensive without appearing to commit a serious breech of faith with his Allies. His government had committed the BSF to an offensive and to have failed to take part would have seriously affected British prestiege, placing his country, himself and his army in an intolerable position. Milne realised that the attack at Doiran was an integral part of a wider operation and had to be carried out. In addition, he saw a spark of genius in the plan put togtether by d’Esperey and Misic and believed the Allies were finally on the verge of achieving a decisive victory. That the British attack was launched on 18 September, one day after the Franco-Serbian breakthrough was secured, left Milne and others in the BSF with the thought, no doubt, that the Bulgarians facing them already had one eye on the route home.

For the British and Greek troops fighting at Doiran in September 1918 this proved not to be the case. Yet the attack prevented the movement of any Bulgarian troops west of the Axios to reinforce against the main Allied advance. In addition, on 21 September, when the entire Bulgarian army was found to be in retreat, Milne quickly reorganised his forces and sent them in pursiut. Spearheaded by the Royal Air Force, whose aircraft bombed Bulgarian troop and transport columns, elements of the BSF were the first Allied troops to cross into Bulgaria. This achievement owes little to British war leaders in London who starved the BSF of resources throughout the war and everything to the abilities of Milne and his subordinate commanders to keep their increasingly threadbear army in the field and to the determination of the men of the BSF, none of whom wanted to miss out on playing a part in final victory.

Salonika – Away from the Western Front

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dušan T. Bataković

The 1804 Serbian Uprising: A Balkan-size French Revolution

The first Balkan revolution at the beginning of the era of nationalism occurred in Serbia. In this northern province of the Ottoman Empire, bordering Habsburg Empire on Danube and Sava rivers, central authority was the weakest and foreign influence stronger than anywhere else in the Ottoman provinces in Europe. Frequent wars, forced migration and resettlement campaigns on the shifting borderland between the Habsburg and the Ottoman Empire made ties among the Orthodox Serbs more intensive, in spite of the varied social and political statuses they enjoyed under different imperial realms.[1]

Although the Serbian uprising was initially a peasant rebellion against local janissaries, its national character can be gradually identified from 1805 onwards. The insurgents used the medieval coat of arms of the Nemanjićs, while the Praviteljtvujušči sovjet in 1805 held its sessions in Smederevo – ‘the capital of our despots and emperors’ – and rallied under the image of Emperor Stefan Dušan (1331-1355).  The official letters and acts send by the leader of the Serbian revolution, Karageorge to local insurgent commanders and his proclamations and correspondence with representatives of the Great Powers were usually signed ‘in the name of the whole Serbian nation’.[2]

Serbian insurgents were encouraged by a series of victories against regular Ottoman troops (at Ivankovac in 1805; at Mišar and at Deligrad in 1806), but also by the capture of Belgrade, the most important fortress in the region (January 1807). In a petition sent to the Russian Emperor in 1806, they claimed that if Russia decided to send its troops to the Balkans, then ‘all Serbs from Serbia, Bosnia, Herzegovina, Montenegro, Dalmatia and Albania would joyfully unite and would, within a brief space of time create a new army of 200,000-strong troops.’[3]These political claims, nevertheless, were based on continuous cooperation with similar anti-Ottoman revolts organized among Serbian clans both in Herzegovina and Montenegro. Since the very beginning, the insurgents coordinated their military actions with the ruler of Montenegro, Prince-Bishop Petar I Petrović-Njegoš, who considered his subjects as ‘a part of a Serb nation’.[4] After the Montenegrin troops defeated the Ottoman army in 1796 (the battles in Krusi and Martinići), their semi-independent status was additionally strengthened, paving the way for a more significant role in future anti-Ottoman movements.

In spite of the fact that tiny Montenegro, mostly due to the interference of the Russian emissaries, remained inactive in the early stage of insurrection in Serbia, a series of local rebellions spread to the districts of the Sanjak of Novi Bazar, a small territory that separated the Belgrade pashalik from the Montenegrin mountains; the neighboring Serbian clans of Herzegovina (the Drobnjaci, Nikšići, Bjelopavlići  and Moračani), also rose to arms, while other Montenegrin clans (the Kuči and Piperi), while Albanian highlanders (the Klimenti or Kelmendi tribe) rebelled in order to achieve more autonomy from central government. In Kosovo, ruled with the iron hand of local Albanian pashas, unrest was recorded among the Serbs, some of whom eventually managed to join the units of Karageorge.[5]

As early as 1804, the Drobnjaci clan of Herzegovina clan launched attacks against  Ottoman-held Podgorica; in 1805, they instigated a year-long rebellion against local Ottoman authorities that was pacified only after the Ottomans took hostages from their families.[6] In a proclamation sent to the rebelled Serbian clans of Herzegovina in 1806, Karageorge invited them to join forces against the Ottomans ‘for our holy churches and monasteries, for the freedom of our fatherland’, while in a letter to Montenegrin Prince-Bishop Petar I Petrović-Njegoš in 1806, he invited Montenegrins to build a common Serbian state, based on the same Orthodox faith and common Serbian blood, and to ‘become one body, one heart, one soul and dear citizens.’[7]

In response, the Montenegrin troops waged several military campaigns against neighboring Ottoman fortresses in Herzegovina. Nevertheless, the planned unification of Montenegrins with the Serbian forces during the breakthrough of Karageorge in the sanjak of Novi Bazar did not take place in 1809 due to the sudden Ottoman offensive in the southern front and the withdrawal of Serbian troops.

Even though they were a mixture of modern national and romantic historic rights, the political claims of Serbian insurgents were dominated by the demand of restoring the medieval Serbian state, gradually lost after the Battle of Kosovo of 1389. Jovan Rajić, the main representative of Serbian monastic historicism, cherished the Empire of Emperor Stefan Dušan, as the his state model, although its center was far more southward (in Kosovo and Skoplje area). Jovan Rajić’s four-volume History of Different Slavic Nations, Especially Bulgars, Croats and Serbs, published in Vienna in 1794-1795, became a pillar of Serbian national ideology in early nineteenth century. As an Ottoman official, captive in a Serbian prison during 1806, related, the insurgents‘ aims were the following: ‘as once King [Prince] Lazar went to Kosovo [in 1389 to confront Ottomans] they will all again come to Kosovo. They are holding all the time the books on history [History by Jovan Rajić] on abovementioned King [Prince Lazar], and he is a great instigator of rebellion in their minds’.[8]

The absence of the strong intellectual leadership among the peasant rebels, whose main ideologist was the priest Matija Nenadović, who relied on Serbian medieval traditions, was compensated by political support coming from the enlightened Serbian elite from the neighboring provinces of Habsburg Empire. Since the Temesvar Diet in 1790, they had considered themselves destined to provide political and intellectual leadership for the whole Serb national movement offering natural rights as a model for the struggle for independent Serbia. In parallel, throughout Serb-inhabited lands within   Habsburg Empire, in particular in southern Hungary (today’s Vojvodina) enthusiasm for the insurrection was running among both urban and rural Serbs so high that it provoked serious concern for local Austrian authorities. Secret relations were established between the insurgents and prospering Serbian merchants and church dignitaries in neighboring provinces of Habsburg Empire while purchases of weapons and ammunition was negotiated. As stressed by local Habsburg officials, the Serbs of Southern Hungary bordering Serbia had not only welcomed the insurrection but started to link their own future to a possible restoration of a Serbia as a sovereign state.[9]

The ‘Serbian Voltaire’, as thez called  Dositej Obradović,  wrote a solemn ode that, in time, became the war anthem of the insurgents: “Rise Serbia / our dear mother / to be again what you’ve once been / Serbian children are weeping for you /they are courageously fighting for you now”.[10] In the same poem, Obradović also stresses that Serbian insurrection revived hopes for the liberation of Bosnia, Herzegovina, Montenegro and other neighboring lands, seas and islands.

While referring to the restoration of the medieval Serbian Empire of Stefan Dušan Serbian intellectuals were, also drafting fresh territorial claims, based on ideas of modern national identity that involved common language and shared cultural, religious and historical traditions. Nevertheless, D. Obradović, the first considered language as the key factor in defining the modern national identity, one that transcended religious affiliation. As Obradović stressed: ‘the part of the world in which the Serbian language is employed is no smaller than the French or the English territory, if we disregard very small differences that occur in the pronunciation – and similar differences are found in all other languages. […] When I write of peoples who live in these kingdoms and provinces, I mean the members both of the Greek and of the Latin Church and do not exclude even the Turks [Bosnian Muslims] of Bosnia and Herzegovina, inasmuch as religion and faith can be changed, but race and language can never be.’[11]

Following these assumptions and  in order to define the potential national claims of Serbs, Count Sava Tekelija, a rich Serb notable from Hungary,  published 2,000 copies of the ‘Geographic Map of Serbia, Bosnia, Dubrovnik, Montenegro and Bordering Regions’ in Vienna (1805). The first 500 copies were sent to the insurgent leadership in Serbia. Although Russia was traditionally considered the main Serbian ally, some influential Habsburg Serbs like Count Sava Tekelija, were also addressing the French and Austrian rulers to support the restoration of Serbian state that would be a pole of a larger political entity.  In a memorandum sent to the then newly-crowned Emperor Napoleon I in June 1804, Sava Tekelija proposed the creation of a vast Illyran Kingdom, i. e. a large South Slav state that would, under the auspices of France, encompass the most of the Serb and Slav-inhabited Balkan regions. A year later, Tekelija sent a similar, slightly revised project to the Habsburg Emperor Francis I. [12]

The Illyrian Kingdom, consisting mostly of Serbs, as the largest Slav nation in the Balkans, would be, according to Tekelija, a major contribution to the long-term stability of the region. Stretching from the Adriatic to the Black Sea, this kingdom would be a solid barrier against both Russia and Austria.  Europe should, therefore, guarantee ‘the distinguished position and successful continuity’ of a nation that could provide this kind of stability: ‘Right now’, Tekelija would mention in his memorandum to Napoleon I, ‘such a nation is rising its head and rejecting the yoke never to accept it again for any other domestic or foreign influence. It is a Serbian nation, or Serbians, if we take into account only those who live in Serbia […] When they, supported by Europe, unite into a large Illyrian kingdom that would join together Bosnia, Bulgaria, Dalmatia, Croatia, Slovenia, Montenegro, Macedonia, Albania, Dubrovnik and Serb-inhabited areas of Hungary with Serbia, this kingdom will be a powerful barrier against those powers, namely Austria and Russia, that would try to establish their domination in the Balkans. However, in a similar memorandum submitted to Emperor Franz I in 1805, Count Tekelija mentioned only Russia as a potential threat to the Balkans.[13]  Although highly unrealistic, these political aspirations were not only artificial projects with strong historic references. They were soon justified by political upheaval among Serbs in both Ottoman and Habsburg Empire. According to French reports, songs about Karageorge as héros libérateur were sung as early as 1805 in Dalmatia, where the very notion of freedom was linked to his name. The Serbian uprising strongly echoed throughout the Balkans, reaching far beyond the borders of the pashalik of Belgrade. Important turmoil was noticed in the Habsburg Empire – among the Serbs in the Srem and Banat regions of southern Hungary (today’s Vojvodina) and the Serb soldiers from the Military Border (Vojna Krajina, Vojna Granica) surrounding the European possessions of the Ottoman Empire like a belt stretching along the Sava River, around Bosnia and Dalmatia.

The Austrian authorities registered that many Serbs from the Habsburg areas of Southern Hungary – from peasants and army officers, to priests, teachers and lawyers – were massively crossing into Serbia to join the insurgents. The leadership of the uprising got not only capable and highly motivated volunteers from their ranks, but also their first diplomats, ministers and school professors. The first Minister of Education of insurgent Serbia was Dositej Obradović, a central figure of the Serbian Enlightenment. With a tacit consent of the local authorities during the initial phase of the insurrection, Serbian traders from the southernmost region of the Habsburg Empire bordering Serbia (Srem, Banat, Bačka) supplied the insurgents with weapons and ammunition. Metropolitan Stevan Stratimirović, a spiritual leader of Serbs in Habsburg Monarchy was the main coordinator of all these efforts aimed to support financially and supply militarily the troops of Karageorge, the supreme leader (vrhovni vožd) of the Serbian revolution. After the first victories of the insurgents, a considerable number of experienced Serbian officers and soldiers arrived in Serbia as volunteers from the predominantly Serbian-inhabited regions of the Austrian Military Border (Slavonia-Srem military district).

In April 1807, the Habsburg military commander of Zagreb  was highly concerned with the fact that Orthodox Christians (i.e. Serbs) were spreading the about great victories achieved by Karageorge and his army news all over the Military Border and reported  that the whole population was attracted by the advantages of freedom won by the insurgents in Serbia.[14] The growing number of volunteers from the Military Border in the Serbian troops rose to 515 men in 1807, including 188 coming from regular Habsburg regiments. As reported by Austrian officials concerned with the growing support of the Serbs of the Military Border for Karageorge,  many others came to Serbia, even from Dalmatia.[15]

The direct consequences of the Serbian uprising were two short-lived agrarian rebellions of Serbs in what is today Vojvodina (1807 in Srem and 1808 in Banat), both striving for national and social liberation. Prior to the uprising, Serbs in Srem sent a memorandum to the Russian Emperor, stressing that, together with their compatriots in Banat ,they had planned to liberate themselves ‘from the German [Habsburg] yoke’. In their headquarters, there was a map of Count Sava Tekelija, comprising the lands that should be liberated and united with Serbia.

The Serbian uprising also had a strong impact on Orthodox Serbs in Bosnia-Herzegovina, where the number of Orthodox Serbs was probably even higher than in rebelled Serbia itself, according to some statistics.[16] Already in 1803, secret talks were conducted in Sarajevo on a possible joint uprising of the Serbs in Bosnia, Herzegovina and Serbia. In the summer of 1804, songs were sung in Bosnia about the heroic deeds of Karageorge, while numerous volunteers constantly kept crossing into Serbia. The resounding victory of 12,000 Serbians against the powerful 20,000 men strong  army of Bosnian beys at the Battle of Mišar in 1806, inspired hopes among Serbian peasants in Bosnia that the Ottoman rule might be replaced by that of Karageorge’s Serbia. A Serbian Orthodox priest from Prijedor in 1806 wrote the following: “I was patiently bearing the Turkish yoke, as all other Orthodox Christians, hoping that Karageorge will liberate us and put us under his protection.”[17] The Serbian insurrection was, as noted by a French traveler, the main reason for a resolute and more effective defense of Serbian peasants from Muslim violence.[18]

Two minor Serbian rebellions broke out in Bosnia, both crushed by the Bosnian Muslim forces and the regular Ottoman army. The first rebellion broke out in 1807, in eastern Bosnia, along the Drina River bordering Serbia, after the Serbian insurgents crossed into Eastern Bosnia, while the second, one of a larger scope, took place in the north-western region of Bosnian Krajina in 1809.[19]

Deprived of external military support after the Treaty of Presburg, Serbian leaders decided at their Assembly in Smederevo, to invite not only Serbs, but other Balkan Christians as well to join them in a struggle against the Ottomans. Important turmoil occurred in different regions of Slavic Macedonia, while in Bulgaria, particularly in the regions of Vidin and Belogradčik, bordering Serbia on Danube, Serbian proposals stimulated movements and occasional revolts of passive agrarian masses. In 1805, the Greek armatol leader Nikotsaras prepared his units to support Karageorge, crossing almost the whole of the Balkans from Mount Olympus in mainland Greece to the Danube, while in Salonica, as early as 1806, the French consul reported to Paris that, due to the Serbian revolution, many Slav peasants and Greek merchants were arrested upon suspicions of supporting the Serbian insurgents. [20]

At the same time, during 1806, the Serbian supreme leader armed 5,000 Bulgarians, willing to join forces against Ottomans. In 1807, out of 4,000 Bulgarians that crossed into Serbia, 800 immediately joined the Serbian troops. The insurgents’ units also included a certain number of Greeks, Bulgarians, Wallachians and Tzintzars (Hellenized Vlachs), who mostly fought in the ranks of the Russian army during the Russo-Ottoman War. Bulgarian envoys from Romania requested, on several occasions, Serbian assistance for their plans to against the Ottomans, while the Serbian example inspired the forthcoming Greek insurgency in many ways. The first historian of Serbian revolution was a Greek author, Triandaphylos Doukas, who published his History of Slavo-Serbs in Budapest, in 1807.

Disappointed by Austrian hesitation and Russian attempts to fully control Serbian insurrection to their own ends, Karageorge’s highest hopes turned to a  possible alliance with France. After entering Dalmatia and getting established in Illyrian provinces that stretched from Ljubljana to Dubrovnik, the French were considering Bosnia the key Ottoman province for transportation of their goods towards Asia Minor during the continental blockade, while Serbia, seen under Russian influence, was considered a possible threat to global French interests.  However, it was in 1809, after Serbian insurgents experienced heavy defeats on several fronts, Karageorge offered Emperor Napoleon to enter Šabac (a Serbian town on the border with Bosnia) with his troops and help them negotiate with the Sublime Porte.

In 1810, through Captain Rade Vučinić from Karlovac (Karlstadt) in the Military Border, special envoy in Paris, Karageorge proposed to Napoleon the unification of Serbia with Bosnia, Herzegovina, the Illyrian provinces stretching from Ljubljana to Dubrovnik (including Dalmatia with Dubrovnik, parts Croatia and Slovenia) and the Serbian-inhabited lands under Habsburg rule (Banat, Srem, Slavonia), and if possible, also with the kindred Bulgarians, into a large state under the French protectorate. Napoleon could not accept this offer that would endanger the unity of allied Ottoman Empire, but suggested to French consul in Bucharest to cooperate with the Serbs. This proposal, although with no viable result, clearly showed that French support for Karageorge was probably the only way out of his confinement to Russian and Austrian influence. It is, however, probable that Napoleon reorganized French possessions in Dalmatia, Krajina and Slovenia into Illyrian provinces (1809-1814) in order to counterpart the Serbian insurrection, which was seen in Paris as the instrument of Russian influence in the Balkans.[21]

Disappointed with French reluctance, Serbs were obliged to turn again to Russia, while Karageorge’s other option that of a possible alliance with Austria, vanished, since Serbia, remained attached to Russian campaigns in the Balkans for mostly military reasons. Abandoned by Russia after the Treaty of Bucharest of 1812, the Serbs, while expressing readiness to accept a semi-independent status similar to those of Danubian Principalities (Wallachia and Moldavia), rejected the proposed, more limited, autonomy: “We do not recognize clauses of the [Ottoman] treaty with Russia [in Bucharest Treaty]. We demand our independent state and we do not accept any other solution.”[22]

The Serbian revolution, deprived of foreign support, was savagely crushed in autumn 1813, by the regular Ottoman troops. Nevertheless, its historical importance, despite attracting little interest in Europe and remaining overshadowed by Napoleon’s wars, was multifold: for the Balkan nations, from Greeks to other South Slavs it was a Balkan-size French revolution adapted to local conditions: the principle of the sovereignty of nations was opposed to the principle of legitimism; a new society was created where, due to the lack of the aristocracy and a developed middle class, agrarian egalitarianism of free peasants was combined with the emerging aspirations of a modern nation. For its long-term effects on the political and social landscape of the whole region, the eminent German historian Leopold von Ranke described the 1804-1813 Serbian insurrection, in comparison to the French example, as the Serbian Revolution.[23]

Paper presented at  the AAASS, Boston, December 2004

 http://www.batakovic.com/en/full-story/21/2012/02/22/the-1804-serbian-revolution_-a-balkansize-french-revolution.html

Footnotes

[1] Cf. G. Yakchitch, L’ Europe et la resurrection de la Serbie (1804-1834), Paris: Hachette 1917, pp. 7-35; D. Djordjevic, Les revolutions nationals des peoples balkaniques 1804-1914, Belgrade, Institut d’histoire  1965, pp. 23-38, W. S. Vucinich (ed.), The First Serbian Uprising 1804-1813, Boulder-New York: Columbia University Press 1982.

[2]  R. Perović, Prvi srpski ustanak; Akta i pisma na srpskom jeziku, vol. I, (1804-1808), Beograd: Narodna knjiga 1978, pp. 124, 125, 149.

[3]   M.  Djordjević, Oslobodilački rat srpskih ustanika 1804-1806, Beograd: Vojnoizdavački zavod 1967

[4]   J. M. Milović, “Titule vladike Petrovića’, Istorijski zapisi, vol. LX  (1), Titograd 1987, p. 57.

[5]  D. T. Bataković, The Kosovo Chronicles, Belgrade: Plato 1992, pp.42-45.

[6]  A. Aličić, « Ustanak u Drobnjacima 1805. godine »,  Godišnjak društva istoričara BiH,  vol. XIX, Sarajevo 1973, pp. 51-54.

[7]  R. Perović, Prvi srpski ustanak. Akta i pisma na srpskom jeziku, vol. I, 1804-1808, pp. 175-177.

[8]  R. Tričković, “Pismo travničkog vezira iz 1806. godine”, Politika, Beograd,  21. 02.  1965.

[9]  A. Ivić, Spisi bečkih arhiva o Prvom srpskom ustanku, vol. III, BeogradČ Srpska kraljevska akademija 1937, p 349.

[10]  J. Mitrović,  Istorija Srba, Beograd: Privatno izdanje 1993

[11]  D. Obradovic, “Letter to Haralampije.” The Life and Adventures of Dimitrije Obradovic. Ed. and transl. G. R. Noyes. Berkeley, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1953, p. 135.

[12]  S. Tekelija, Opisanije života, Beograd: Prosveta 1966, pp. 171-187, 379-396.

[13]  S. Gavrilović, Vojvodina i Srbija u vreme prvog srpskog ustanka,  Novi Sad: Institut za istoriju 1974 pp.20-24.

[14] F. Šišić, “Karadjordje, Južni Sloveni i Napoleonova Ilirija”, in: Karadjordje, Beograd: Geca Kon 1923, pp. 55-56.

[15] Ibid.

[16]  M. Ekmečić quotes a certain statistic that estimated the overall population in Bosnia and Herzegovina as high as 1, 3 million inhabitants. (M. Ekmečić, Stvaranje Jugoslavije 1790-1918, vol. I, Beograd: Prosveta 1989,  p. 77. )

[17] J. Tošković, Odnosi izmedju Bosne i Srbije 1804-1806 i boj na Mišaru, Subotica 1927, p. 72.

[18] M. Šamić, Francuski putnici o Bosni na pragu XIX stoljeća i njihovi utisci o njoj, Sarajevo: Svjetlost 1966,  p. 206.

[19]  V. Čubrilović, Prvi srpski ustanak i bosanski Srbi, Beograd: Geca Kon 1939, pp. 115-125. 

[20]  C. A. Vacalopoulos, La Macédoine vue  en début du XIX siècle par les consuls Européens de Thessalonique, Thessalonique: Institut des eétudes balkaniques 1980, p. 65.

[21]  Cf. D. Roksandić, Vojna Hrvatska La Croatie militaire. Krajiško društvo u Francuskom carstvu (1809-1813), vol. I, Zagreb : Školska knjiga 1988, pp 151-153.

[22]  S. Hadžihuseinović-Muvvekit, Tarih-i Bosna, quoted in : M. Ekmečić, Stvaranje Jugoslavije 1790-1918, vol. I, p. 157.

[23] Leopold von Ranke, A history of Servia and the Servian Revolution. Translated by Mrs. Alexander Kerr.New York, Da Capo Press, 1973.