Militarily, moreover, the Russo-Japanese War had been only the most recent demonstration of the fact that as long as control of the Bosporus remained outside Russia’s hands, a large part of her fleet was useless except for coastal defense; while in the hands of an unfriendly state with a strong navy the straits were a gateway to Russia’s back door. Complicating the picture was the growing conviction of Russian strategists that possession of Constantinople and the Dardanelles depended on dominating their hinterlands in Europe and Asia. A simple land grab would no longer suffice. Nor was subversion of the Ottoman Empire a desirable policy for a Russia not only plagued with its own revolutionaries, but uncertain of its ability to take quick advantage of a Turkish collapse. German-trained and German-led troops might well prove a significant barrier to any Russian attempts to seize the straits, then confront Europe with a fait accompli.9
In such a context it was hardly surprising that Kokovtsov expressed “deep sorrow” at the regrettable worsening of Russo-German relations generated by the Liman von Sanders appointment, or that Sazonov grew “extremely nervous” and was not to be reassured. The Russian foreign minister accused Germany of seeking simultaneously to undo the results of the Balkan wars of national liberation and to strangle south Russia’s economy by gaining control of the straits herself. He recommended that the entente change Germany’s mind by occupying selected Turkish ports as hostages!10
The proposal was met with raised eyebrows by French and British officials on the spot in Constantinople. They argued the effect of Liman’s appointment would be far less—even suspiciously less—than Sazonov seemed to expect. By this time, however, Russia’s Turkish policy is best understood in terms of a running man who, feeling himself stumble, seeks to restore his balance by accelerating his pace. Sazonov insisted that concessions to either of the central powers would destroy Russia’s credibility with foes and friends alike. When he proclaimed the Liman appointment a test of Russia’s alliances, the French ambassador indicated that his government’s support would be unequivocal and unstinting. Britain was less encouraging, but not discouraging.11
On January 13, 1914, an imperial council discussed the pros and cons of direct military action against Turkey. When asked if Russia could fight a war with Germany, the war minister and the chief of staff cheerfully agreed that Russia was perfectly prepared for such a conflict—with Austria thrown in. Kokovtsov’s insistence that such a war would be the worst thing that could happen to Russia swayed just enough of the council just enough to the side of moderation that they accepted, at least provisionally, Bethmann’s assurances that the entire affair was a misunderstanding.12
Did the chancellor’s words mask darker intentions? Liman’s appointment has been described as a major initiative in Germany’s return to an aggressive continental strategy as a prelude to Weltpolitik. In this interpretation, Germany’s leaders by 1914 were thinking in terms not of concert diplomacy, but of a Central European power bloc, with the Ottoman Empire as its major sphere of direct influence. This meant the straits, the bridge to Asia Minor, must remain secure at all costs.13
Realities were a good deal more modest. German military missions had been “reforming” the Ottoman army at intervals for over twenty years with at best modest success. Given the results of Turkey’s recent conflicts with Italy and the Balkan states, any improvements in her armed forces would amount to little more than restoring a regional balance. Turkish generals seemed for once willing to take advice—a welcome prospect after the frustrations of German soldiers and diplomats at the Porte in recent years. But Liman von Sanders, suspicious, petty both in public and private matters, was hardly the man single-handedly to bring Turkey into Germany’s camp. He not only saw his task as narrowly professional; he was directly warned by the Kaiser to avoid involvement in local politics.
This admonition reflected the basic inconsistency of German policies towards Turkey. Specific issues of profit and loss, either economic or diplomatic, were less important than glowing visions of the future. Opinion was sharply divided on the importance and the possibility of establishing close links with a state needing at least a decade to recover from the effects of defeat and revolution. What success Germany did have was largely negative, a product of Britain’s growing tendency to take Turkish good will for granted. As late as May, 1914, the grand vizier was insisting to the German ambassador that it was in Turkey’s best interests to have no alliances with any of the powers. The only threat she faced was when one of the alliance networks was ready to start a world war.14
William’s order to Liman to resign command of I Corps ended the crisis. It settled nothing more. From Berlin’s point of view, Russia had significantly overreacted to a limited initiative, if indeed it could be called an initiative at all. Concert diplomacy was never meant to exclude self-interest—only to limit the parameters of its pursuit. Germany never denied direct and growing economic, political, and military interests in the Ottoman Empire. She was correspondingly unwilling to abandon that field to a Russia whose claims seemed increasingly designed to exclude everyone else.
In January, 1914, the Turkish military attaché in St. Petersburg expressed alarm at Russian troop movements in the Caucasus. His German colleague initially belittled the situation, saying that if Russia had designs on Turkey she would have implemented them during the Balkan Wars. But in April the Tiflis consulate confirmed extensive Russian military activity, including reports that a new army corps was to be raised on the Turkish border. In June the Russian government proposed that the Ottoman Empire’s Armenian subjects be given virtual autonomy under what amounted to Russian protection. Farther to the east, Russia’s continued pressure on Persia and in Central Asia was generating increasing concern about her ultimate intentions in a Britain for years at pains to appease her imperialist rival. In such a context Russia’s vehement objections to the limited matter of a command appointment invited interpretation as part of a general campaign to renew the Great Game in Asia and complete the Balkan Wars by dismembering the Turkish Empire.15
Had Russia in fact decided to do herself what her purported clients had been unable to do after their recent falling-out? The evidence was ambiguous. Near East rivalries had been endemic among the powers for two centuries. Russian policy makers had accepted German economic interests in the Ottoman Empire. They understood the risks of war should Germany not be considered in any future reorganization of that troubled area. As late as 1912 the military attaché in Berlin warned that a Germany uncompensated for a Turkish collapse might well take “sword in hand.”16 Since the Bosnian Crisis, moreover, Russian diplomats had been at periodic pains to insist to their German colleagues that Austria was the real obstacle to peace in the Balkans and in Europe. Let Germany encourage her ally to be a bit more reasonable, to modify her aggressive responses to the development of south Slav autonomy under Russian auspices, and there was no reason why peace should be endangered. According to Sazonov the Russian government had no complaints about German behavior in the recent Balkan crises. Germany needed only to ignore the agitation of press and parliament, which meant nothing in an autocracy. As for Turkey, she was finished in any case. Why should Germany damage her relations with Russia by denying facts?17