Reviewed: Europe - the Struggle for Supremacy by Brendan Simms

Neighbourhood watch.

Europe: the Struggle for Supremacy, 1453 to the Present
Brendan Simms
Allen Lane, 720pp, £30

The old Cambridge Modern History, written more than a century ago, was a splendid read. The overall editor, Lord Acton, was confident that not much more history needed to be done and Cambridge refused to institute a doctoral research degree of the German type (and gave in only in the First World War, when there was a need for US dollars that otherwise would have gone to Heidelberg or Tübingen). The emphasis was confidently on the international, diplomatic and military story – there wasn’t too much about peasants.

Brendan Simms is a fellow of Peterhouse, which in old Cambridge was the outstanding college for history, with Herbert Butterfield its presiding spirit, supported by still-read specialists on continental Europe, such as Denis Mack Smith. Simms is a natural successor to them and the spirit of the place has seeped into his unrepentantly oldfashioned, lively and erudite history of Europe since 1453.

The book is centrally concerned, rightly, with Germany, which Simms knows at first hand. Its great strength is that you are always reminded that European countries did not grow autonomously. Europe was fragmented and the fragments, in conflict, greatly affected each other’s development.

Europe is very ambitious in scope and covers successive periods in thematic chapters – “Empires, 1453-1648”, “Successions, 1649-1755”, “Revolutions, 1756-1813” and on to “Partitions, 1945-1973”, with a final section on “Democracies, 1974-2011”. The references are prodigious, multilingual and extremely useful.

I used to have fun with Turkish students quoting an article that I regarded as the ultimate in time-wasting: “Little-known aspects of the coronation of Joseph II”. I now stand corrected. The Church stopped the Holy Roman emperor Joseph II from touching the congregation for scrofula, which was alleged miraculously to disappear if a newly crowned emperor laid on hands. This was modernisation (liberalism) from below and so, once you understand the context provided by Simms, you can see that it was not such a meaningless article after all.

The popes were heroically anti-modern. Gregory XVI, in 1836, inveighed against railways and there were only two rutted and bandit-ridden roads across the Apennines in the papal states. (I also have fun with students pointing out that the last Vatican castrato survived long enough to be recorded, warbling forlornly, on one of the first gramophone discs in about 1902.) But the Habsburg rulers of Italy at that time were, by contrast, go-ahead and sensible: there was an administrative and legal liberalism at work in, for instance, Tuscany or Milan that made the Risorgimento unnecessary (and, anyway, look where that led with Mussolini).

Simms knows what he is talking about, though he is better on his home territory of the 18th century than on the 20th, where there is just too much that has to be included. Still, it is better to have a history of Europe as a whole, in this way.

You could make a case that each country is most influenced by its neighbour to the east: England by France, France by Germany, Germany by Russia (or, in the old days, Poland), in each case drawing further and further away from the Anglo-Saxon verities in which the old Cambridge historians firmly believed. Simms begins his book with a great threat from the east, the Ottoman Turks (whose own story owed much to Persia). The Ottomans gave shape to the Habsburg (Austrian) empire and you could even argue that they created it, since Hungary was forced under Habsburg protection. This made Austria only half- German and was one factor that weakened the old Holy Roman empire, which never became a centralising state such as emerged in England or, less securely, France. Simms is most drawn to the German lands, the history of which he knows inside out, and his book divides neatly into two parts – one in which Germany is fatally weak and one in which it is fatally strong:

The struggle for mastery in Germany also drove the process of internal change in Europe. Englishmen revolted against Charles I because he failed to protect Protestant German princes . . . Frenchmen broke with Louis XVI because of his alleged subservience to Austria.

Without this factor, the French Revolution would not have had its international momentum and Simms’s account of it is valuable; in so many other treatments of the same events, it is difficult to work out what is going on and why. The revolutionaries thought that ancien régime Europe was going to intervene against them in the summer of 1792 but Austria and Prussia were far more concerned with Poland, the Ottoman empire and Belgium. They were eventually goaded into a half-baked invasion of France that was easily stopped by gunfire at Valmy.

Franco-German hostilities characterised the history of the continent and these go back a long way. Initial battles occurred over Italy. Even in 1494, when the French invaded Lombardy, their point was to defeat a German emperor’s domination of the pope; 50 years later, Henry II of France captured Metz, Toul and Verdun in his “march to the Rhine”; and under Louis XIV, as a result of French efforts to seize the Rhine frontier, the adjoining German state, the Palatinate, was ravaged again and again. Alsace and Lorraine were largely taken over by the French and they remained a symbol of Germany’s prostration and ineffectiveness until 1871, when Bismarck took them back.

Simms could perhaps have talked rather more about the cultural impact of all this on Germany. In the later 18th century, reaction against the dominant Latin French led the German literati to adopt a Greek model and to devise their peculiarly cumbersome verbs-at-the-end syntax and a handwriting alphabet that included Greek letters. A century later, they were coming up with absur - dities such as “Rundfunk” (“round-spark”) to avoid saying “radio”. Perhaps this is why classical German literature is so difficult to translate.

At any rate, much of modern history can only be made sense of if you accept that Germany went ape. In the end, the problem was solved only when the US intervened. “Europe” as we recognise it today fell off the back of an American army lorry. Even the common currency was first suggested by an American, the deputy head of the office of the Marshall Plan, in 1950.

The Europe that emerged, now taking in countries such as Latvia and Croatia that once formed part of a German bloc, is not very interesting to read or write about; but it is better that than the alternatives so richly described in this book.

Norman Stone is professor of European history at Bilkent University in Turkey. His latest book is “World War Two: a Short History” (Allen Lane, £16.99)

A statue of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I. Photograph: Getty Images

This article first appeared in the 12 April 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Centenary Special Issue

Getty
Show Hide image

Aussies and Kiwis can be “us” to Brexiteers - so why are EU citizens “them”?

Nostalgia for the empire means Brexiteers still see Australians and New Zealanders as "Brits abroad". 

There are many terrible things about Brexit, most of which I counted, mournfully, on the night of the referendum while hiding in a stairwell because I was too depressed to talk to anyone at the party I’d just run away from. But one of the biggest didn’t hit me until the next day, when I met a friend and (I’m aware how ridiculous this may sound) suddenly remembered she was Dutch. She has been here 20 years, her entire adult life, and it’s not that I thought she was British exactly; I’d just stopped noticing she was foreign.

Except now, post-referendum, she very definitely was and her right to remain in Britain was suddenly up for grabs. Eleven months on, the government has yet to clarify the matter for any of Britain’s three million European residents. For some reason, ministers seem to think this is OK.

If you attended a British university in the past 20 years, work in the NHS or the City – or have done almost anything, in large parts of the country – you’ll know people like this: Europeans who have made their lives here, launching careers, settling down with partners, all on the assumption that Britain was part of the EU and so they were as secure here as those with British passports. The referendum has changed all that. Our friends and neighbours are now bargaining chips, and while we may not think of them as foreigners, our leaders are determined to treat them as such. People we thought of as “us” have somehow been recast as “them”.

There’s a problem with bringing notions of “us” and “them” into politics (actually, there are many, which seems like a very good reason not to do it, but let’s focus on one): not everyone puts the boundary between them in the same place. Take the Tory MEP Daniel Hannan. The sort of man one can imagine spent boyhood afternoons copying out Magna Carta for fun, Hannan spent decades campaigning for Brexit. Yet he’s not averse to all forms of international co-operation, and in his spare time he’s an enthusiastic advocate of CANZUK, a sort of Commonwealth-on-steroids in which there would be free movement ­between Canada, Australia, New Zealand and the UK.

When pushed on the reasons this entirely theoretical union is OK, when the real, existing one we’re already in isn’t, he has generally pointed to things such as shared language, culture and war memorials. But the subtext, occasionally made text by less subtle commentators, is that, unlike those Continentals, natives of the other Anglo countries aren’t really foreign. An Australian who’s never set foot in Britain can be “us”; the German doctor who’s been here two decades is still “them”.

There’s a funny thing about Hannan, which I wouldn’t make a big thing of, except it seems to apply to a number of other prominent Leave and CANZUK advocates: for one so fixated on British culture and identity, he grew up a very long way from Britain. He spent his early years in Peru, on his family’s farm near Lima, or occasionally on another one in Bolivia. (You know how it is.) That’s not to say he never set foot in Britain, of course: he was sent here for school.

His bosom pal Douglas Carswell, who is currently unemployed but has in the past found work as both a Conservative and a Ukip MP, had a similarly exotic upbringing. He spent his childhood in Uganda, where his parents were doctors, before boarding at Charterhouse. Then there’s Boris Johnson who, despite being the most ostentatiously British character since John Bull, was born in New York and spent the early years of his life in New England. Until recently, indeed, he held US citizenship; he gave it up last year, ostensibly to show his loyalty to Britain, though this is one of those times where the details of an answer feel less revealing than the fact that he needed to provide one. Oh and Boris went to boarding school, too, of course.

None of these childhoods would look out of place if you read in a biography that it had happened in the 1890s, so perhaps it’s not surprising that they instilled in all of their victims a form of imperial nostalgia. I don’t mean that the Brexiteers were raised to believe they had a moral duty to go around the world nicking other people’s countries (though who knows what the masters really teach them at Eton). Rather, by viewing their homeland from a distance, they grew up thinking of it as a land of hope and glory, rather than the depressing, beige place of white dog poo and industrial strife that 1970s Britain was.

Seen through this lens, much of the more delusional Brexiteer thinking suddenly makes sense. Of course they need us more than we need them; of course they’ll queue up to do trade deals. Even Johnson’s habit of quoting bits of Latin like an Oxford don who’s had a stroke feels like harking back to empire: not to the Roman empire itself (he’s more of a late republican) but to the British one, where such references marked you out as ruling class.

There’s another side effect of this attitude. It enables a belief in a sort of British diaspora: people who are British by virtue of ancestry and ideology no matter how far from these shores they happen to live. In the 19th century, Australians and Canadians were just Brits who happened to be living abroad. What Britain absolutely wasn’t, however, was just another European country. So, in the Leavers’ minds, Aussies and Kiwis still get to be us. The millions of Europeans who have made Britain their home are still, unfortunately, them.

I’m sure these men bear Britain’s European citizens no ill-will; they have, however, fought for a policy that has left them in limbo for 11 months with no end in sight. But that’s the thing about Brexiteers, isn’t it? They may live among us – but they don’t share our values.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.

This article first appeared in the 18 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Age of Lies

0800 7318496