A Sense of the Enemy

by Shore, Zachary

  As weapon shipments began to flow, so too did rumors. By year’s end, an event occurred that could easily have severed the two countries’ covert cooperation. It very likely would have, but Stresemann’s strategic empathy for his adversaries enabled him to keep a steady hand.

  Despite Stresemann’s best efforts, the details of German rearmament could no longer remain secret. Remarkably, the disclosure came not from the Soviet government, as had often been threatened, but from within Germany itself. On December 16, 1926, Philipp Scheidemann, the ex-Chancellor and now head of the Social Democratic Party, stepped forth and delivered a stunning speech to the assembled Reichstag. In full view of foreign dignitaries, including American Ambassador Jacob Gould Schurman, Scheidemann detailed Germany’s covert activities inside the Soviet Union. His speech exposed the ways that Germany was violating the Treaty of Versailles—in stark contrast with Foreign Minister Stresemann’s prominent policy of fulfillment.52 The revelations would unleash dissension, bring down the government, and call German foreign policy into question. Yet unbeknownst to Scheidemann, it would also create a pattern break, one which Stresemann could use to his advantage.

  3

  _______

  Steady on the Tightrope

  Stresemann’s Maneuver, Act II

  Revelations

  When Philipp Scheidemann took the floor, he plunged the Parliament into mayhem. Within minutes of his speech, the parties on the Right exploded in anger. “Traitor!” they shouted. “Treason!” Using their greater numbers, the Socialists tried to shout their opponents back down but to no effect. Communists shrieked in disbelief at Scheidemann’s allegations, unable to believe what they were hearing about this unwholesome union between Mother Russia and the Fatherland. Reichstag President Paul Löbe repeatedly rang his bell, fruitlessly calling the assembly back to order. At one point, a parliamentarian on the Right leapt up and, pointing to the American Ambassador seated in the gallery, cried, “Why reveal these things to our enemies?”1 In the end, Scheidemann’s speech, just days before Christmas 1926, would bring down the Weimar government and force a new coalition into being.

  Scheidemann asserted that it was not only their right but their responsibility to speak out in order to keep Germany on the democratic path and the path of peace. An armed force that pursues its own political agenda that is opposed to democracy and peace, he continued, cannot be maintained. Citing a recent speech by General Wilhelm Heye (Chief of the Truppenamt2), in which the General called the army an obedient instrument of the state, Scheidemann remarked that this is a goal that had not yet been reached. Instead, he charged, the Reichswehr had become a state within a state.3

  Given his stature, Scheidemann’s revelations could not simply be dismissed. He was, after all, the very man who had proclaimed the German Republic. Standing on the Reichstag balcony in 1918 at the war’s close, Scheidemann addressed a mob of Berliners and declared that rule by monarchs had ended. He did this in part to stave off an impending revolution, but no vote had ever been cast on the matter. He was acting on his own authority. In February 1919, he became the Republic’s first Chancellor. That summer he resigned, refusing to sign the Versailles Treaty once its harsh terms were announced. Despite his act of nationalistic protest, as a leading German socialist Scheidemann remained the target of right-wing furor, even being attacked with acid by extremists. His historical significance aside, as the Social Democratic Party head, he presently controlled a substantial bloc of votes in parliament. Thus, in December of 1926, when the ex-Chancellor rose to speak, he commanded considerable attention.

  Turning to the delegates on the Right and addressing them directly, Scheidemann announced: “Do not pretend that what we discuss here today is a surprise to other nations. I know and expect this comment. If you are honest, you must admit that probably all countries in the world know exactly what is happening here.” The German people, he explained, knew the least about what the Reichswehr was doing.4

  Although German resistance to disarmament and Allied occupation had been widely suspected, Scheidemann was referring specifically to a recent exposé in the December 6 Manchester Guardian. The newspaper—probably working from leads given to them by the Social Democratic Party—described some of the details surrounding the Reichswehr’s secret rearmament inside Soviet Russia. Because he could not obtain satisfactory assurances from the government that these activities would cease, Scheidemann decided to reveal the full story (or as much of it as he could) to the public through his Reichstag address. His speech has often been depicted as a purely political maneuver, intended to discredit the government and force a reorganization, but when one actually examines the text of his remarks, it is clear that deeper issues were also at stake.

  Scheidemann’s address covered three distinct acts of subterfuge: financial improprieties, covert military training, and the production of war materiel. First, he described how money from the federal budget was being diverted to fund illegal rearmament in Russia. He outlined the scheme of withdrawing cash from a bank account and covering up the money trail. When he told the assembly that German officers and generals had been traveling to Russia under fake names and false passports, the Right erupted. One parliamentarian from Mecklenburg, Herr von Graefe, shouted, “What would happen to you in Paris if you said these things about the French?”5 His point was that no nation would tolerate the public disclosure of state secrets.

  The effect of von Graefe’s words was electrifying. The entire room descended into cries from the Right and counter-charges from the Left. Reichstag President Löbe called for silence. Scheidemann tried to continue. “I have only the wish—” before being drowned out by shouts of “Traitor!” President Löbe fecklessly rang his bell for order.

  When Scheidemann at last resumed, he described in overpowering detail how the Reichswehr was in league with right-wing organizations across Germany to secretly drill future soldiers under the guise of athletic training. The military, he alleged, was providing weapons and funds to train civilians in military functions. It was employing former officers as so-called sports instructors—all in violation of Versailles.

  In the final section of his address, Scheidemann discussed the rearmament currently underway inside Russia, to the great embarrassment of Communists present. Seeing no need to rehash the details reported by the Manchester Guardian, he instead supplemented the case with additional allegations. According to his sources, airplanes, bombs, and poison gas were all being built beneath the Soviet cloak. As recently as late September to early October 1926, four ships had traveled from Leningrad to Stettin, a port city then part of Germany. Three of these ships—the Gottenburg, Artushof, and Kolberg—reached Germany, though the fourth had sunk. The workers unloading the cargo were sworn to secrecy. The contents were innocuously labeled “Aluminum” and “Rundeisen” (a type of steel). In reality it was thousands of tons of war materiel. Finally, Scheidemann described a collaboration between Reichswehr financing, a chemical company in Hamburg, and the plant in Russia producing gas grenades. This time, the Communists were outraged. Though publicly pledged to supporting Communist movements throughout the world, here was evidence that Soviet Russia was aiding the harshest opponents of Communism inside Germany. Nothing was making sense.

  Turning to address the Communist delegates, Scheidemann admonished that they should be opposed to what Russia was doing because it was only pushing the country further to the Right. “We want to be Moscow’s friend, but we don’t want to be its fool.” Scheidemann called it a mistake that Germany forged an agreement with Russia just after making peace, but it would be far worse if such dealings were continuing even after Locarno and Germany’s entry into the League. Becoming ever bolder, he proclaimed, “Enough with these dirty dealings. No more munitions from Russia for German weapons.” The Communists let loose a cacophony, but Scheidemann was not cowed. “You want to drown me out with your shouts, so I will repeat it. No more munitions from Russia for German weapons.”6

  To some, Sche
idemann’s Reichstag speech was a flagrant act of high treason. To others, it was a profile in courage. Toward the close of his remarks, Scheidemann delivered a powerful and prescient defense of his position. He declared that secret armament was a grave danger. It irresponsibly damaged foreign policy. It compelled the nation to lies and hypocrisy. One day, he warned, we will be caught, and then the world will say that Germany is dishonest. “This cannot serve our Republic. We want to be seen in the world as an upstanding people that fulfills its obligations.” Finally, Scheidemann announced that his Party would withdraw its support for the government in order to trigger the formation of a new one.7 But neither Scheidemann’s words nor his Party’s actions could alter the course toward rearmament.

  Throughout the whole of his speech, Scheidemann restricted his attacks to the military alone. In one of his only references to the Foreign Minister, he portrayed Stresemann as embattled by the Reichswehr’s actions. He insisted that Germany’s opponents abroad referred continuously to Germany’s lack of disarmament, saying that Germany gave only the appearance of disarming. He implied that, unfortunately, they were correct. “If you don’t know this, ask Herr Stresemann, who must overcome these difficulties.”8 In essence, he was giving the Foreign Minister a free pass.

  Reactions

  Scheidemann’s speech created a pattern break moment. It forced the issue of German rearmament into the open, enabling Stresemann to observe reactions from East and West. Would the British and French demand an end to German–Soviet relations? Would the Soviets call off the military cooperation? Or could Germany continue with business as usual, preserving ties to both sides and thereby extract concessions from both?

  The Soviet response was telling. Having frequently threatened to expose the secret arrangements, once they were already partly revealed, the Soviets now showed themselves eager to cover up the rest and keep the agreements intact, just as Stresemann had suspected. What Stalin had declared at the start of 1926, that the Soviet Union should build socialism in one country, appeared to be his genuine position. Stresemann had grasped that Stalin’s greater aim, at least for the time being, was not fomenting revolution inside Germany but instead revitalizing Soviet military and economic strength.

  Stresemann also did not expect the West to retaliate against Germany, and after the speech he received ample signals that his assessment was correct. Scheidemann’s allegations created a sensation across the Western press. The story ran prominently in all the major papers. Under the headline “German Royalists Accused of Raising Huge Secret Army,” the Washington Post detailed the stormy Reichstag session and the key points of Scheidemann’s speech, including, at the article’s start, the covert shipment of arms from Russia to Germany.9 The following day, the Post’s page-one headline declared “Germany’s Cabinet, Defeated, Resigns in Face of Charges.”10 Evidencing the general respect for Stresemann’s leadership in foreign affairs, the Post piece ended by observing that Stresemann had not been seriously attacked at any time during the past two days of bitter Reichstag debate, and therefore German foreign policy would likely remain unchanged. The New York Times also featured the story, while Time referenced it within an article on Weimar’s unstable coalitions.11

  In Britain, The Manchester Guardian, having first broken the story, continued to run articles on the unfolding events. The newspaper reported that the issue had become the primary topic of discussion in the press and Parliament. It added that “big sums” from the German taxpayer have been secretly diverted to fund illegal dealings in Russia and at home.12 The next day, The Guardian ran a piece on German gun-running, filled with speculation about possible Reichswehr plans to acquire large quantities of arms from Russia, including rifles, field guns, howitzers, and antitank guns.13 The paper followed up the reports on December 21 with a piece titled “The Exposure of German Militarists,” noting that French Socialist leader Leon Blum had requested an inquiry into the issues that Scheidemann had raised.14

  Unlike the left-leaning Guardian, the conservative newspaper The London Times downplayed the significance of Scheidemann’s disclosures, claiming that they were all well-known abroad. The Times itself had noted the rumored dealings between German and Soviet militaries back in 1922, shortly after the two nations signed their infamous Rapallo agreement, which was putatively restricted to diplomatic and trade issues, not military ones.15 The Times now painted the German Socialists as having launched a fierce but undeserved attack on the German army. It reported almost none of the details contained within Scheidemann’s speech. Instead, it portrayed the Socialists as paranoids: “The more recent revelations of negotiations between Reichswehr officers and the Soviet Government with regard to the manufacture of arms, with all their schoolboy paraphernalia of false names and forged passports, made the Socialists still more suspicious . . .” The paper then described the Chancellor’s defense, that most of the allegations were either untrue or under investigation. Strongly suggesting support for the German Right, the article’s final sentence cited a Nationalist Deputy, Herr von der Schulenburg, who declared that “. . . if the assertions of Herr Scheidemann were true, his speech fulfilled all the requirements of an act of treason.”16

  Scheidemann’s speech was an embarrassment for Stresemann. He had repeatedly vowed that Germany would disarm, as this condition was central to the withdrawal of Allied troops from German soil. To make matters worse, just six days earlier he had received the Nobel Prize for Peace, owing to his accommodating fulfillment policy. If Scheidemann’s allegations were found to be true, then Stresemann would appear a hypocrite, and his Locarno success could be in jeopardy.

  Stresemann’s deputy, Schubert, urged yet again that the relationship with Moscow be brought to an end, as the risks had become too great.17 Stresemann disagreed. Instead, he waited to gauge both Soviet and Western reactions. He had good reason to think that Britain and France would be reluctant to pressure him into terminating the covert rearmament. As embarrassed as the German government might be by Scheidemann’s revelations, the British and French Foreign Ministers might be even more so, thanks in large part to the Nobel Foundation.

  The timing of Scheidemann’s speech could hardly have been more awkward for Britain and France, nor more providential for Stresemann. The Manchester Guardian story appeared just as the French and British Foreign Ministers, Aristide Briand and Austen Chamberlain, were finalizing the withdrawal of the Inter-Allied Military Control Commission (IMCC), even though the Commission’s report stated that Germany had not met the disarmament conditions.18 Four days later, the Foundation announced not only that Dr. Stresemann would receive the Peace Prize for his handling of European disputes but that Briand and Chamberlain, along with American Vice-President Dawes, would share the award for their roles in ushering in the spirit of Locarno. For the British, French, or American foreign ministries to have loudly protested German violations at the very moment when they were basking in their Nobel glory would have been an unmitigated embarrassment. It could have called into question the entire Locarno undertaking, the trustworthiness of Stresemann, and the credibility of the statesmen themselves. Instead of drawing attention to German rearmament, the Nobel laureates voiced their genuine hopes for future peace.

  Upon learning that he had won the Nobel Prize, Austen Chamberlain declared: “I feel greatly honored by the award, because it sets the seal of international approbation on the work of peace accomplished at Locarno.”19 French Foreign Minister Briand enthused over the announcement with equal relish:

  Of course, I am delighted; but my ambition is that, ten years hence, the people will say that we deserved this award. Sir Austen Chamberlain, Dr. Stresemann and myself have worked together for the last two years in perfect harmony, with only one object in view. That object was the peace of the world. We have done our best, and will continue in the same spirit. Today we have the distinguished honor of receiving the Nobel prize. But history will say whether we deserved it. For the sake of humanity I sincerely hope that it will.20

/>   Commenting on Stresemann’s receipt of the honor, The New York Times reflected the popular view of him at the time. The newspaper called Stresemann “sincere in his tribute to the new spirit of the international accord.” The profile credited the Foreign Minister with changing German attitudes toward the once-detested League of Nations. Affirming the general perception, The New York Times proclaimed: “Stresemann has held firm to the major principle that for Germany the soundest policy is loyal cooperation with her former enemies.”21

  The Peace Prize was a windfall for Stresemann, as it constrained the French and British foreign ministers’ reactions. They could not raise objections to Germany’s covert rearmament without tarnishing the luster on their award.

  Around the same time as the Nobel Prize awards, Stresemann was receiving many more signals that Britain and France were not prepared to make an issue of German violations. The official British response to Scheidemann’s revelations proved remarkably muted. The episode had no effect on the government’s impressions of Stresemann. It appears not even to have triggered an investigation into the extent of Stresemann’s knowledge of the Reichswehr’s activities. Instead, Foreign Secretary Austen Chamberlain remained exceedingly deferential to his German counterpart throughout the episode.22 At a Cabinet meeting on December 1, 1926, Chamberlain described how well he, Briand, and Stresemann had cooperated at a recent meeting in Geneva. Relations were so congenial that they envisioned the withdrawal of Allied forces from Germany in the very near future in exchange for a financial payment from Germany. Chamberlain hoped for another conference similar to Locarno, but he feared that the sensitive state of European public opinion was not yet ready for such an affair.23 Obviously, Stresemann did not know the details of this particular Cabinet meeting, but British and French compliance with German demands continued to be forthcoming.