A Window of Opportunity?

The European revolutions of 1848 and the First Schleswig War opened the first window of opportunity to political Scandinavianism since the days of dynastic Scandinavianism during the Napoleonic Wars. The Scandinavian student gatherings had prepared the ground. The Danish succession was unresolved, the German parts of the unitary state wished to break away, while the national liberal movement that came to power in Denmark in March 1848 consisted of Scandinavianists. As we will show in Scandinavia and Bismarck, the pro-Danish sentiment was stronger in Norway during the Second Schleswig War in 1864, but public support for waging war in the name of Scandinavianism was never stronger in Sweden than in the spring of 1848. The governments in Sweden and Norway were not made up of Scandinavianists, but many ministers thought along the lines of the threshold principle and supported the king’s foreign policy. The same was partly true of the Riksdag and the Storting. Moreover, the ‘democratic’ right to vote in Denmark had a positive effect on the views of Norwegian peasants. Frederick VII was reportedly prepared to alter the succession in favour of a Bernadotte. Internal conditions in Scandinavia were probably never more favourable to political Scandinavianism than in May and June 1848.

When it came to the great powers, there was an opportunity to come to an agreement with Prussia. Prussia was prepared to partition the unitary state with Sweden-Norway as long as this involved a surrender of the German parts of Schleswig. Great Britain would scarcely have actively supported Scandinavian unification, but it is possible they would have accepted it as a fait accompli. France had previously touched on the possibility of a Scandinavian union in 1842, and from 1848 French interest in the matter only increased. Austria was opposed to a partition and a unification, but it was paralysed by revolution. This left Russia, the most powerful presence on the continent. Although opposed to Scandinavianism principally for ideological reasons, by May 1848 the tsar had come to accept possible Scandinavian unification, were it to be presented as a fait accompli. However, when their wish to end the Danish-German war made Russia and Britain adopt a common diplomatic stance, the window for Scandinavian unification was closed. This left political Scandinavianists in Sweden and Denmark, who had successfully whipped up the public mood, in deep despair. They were keenly aware that a chance had been wasted. This, however, did not cause them to give up, but it changed their policy after the war. A contributory factor to the failure of 1848 was the constant millstone around the neck of political Scandinavianism, namely Holstein. Would Frederick VII have accepted a Scandinavianist solution that involved a partition and/or surrender of his hereditary territories? At least it is clear that he was not prepared to do so in the autumn of 1848.

Bound to Fail?

On the surface of things, the events of 1848 and the outcome of the First Schleswig War seems to confirm the master narrative. As elsewhere in Europe, these years where highly tumultuous, but as things settled down in 1851 little had changed in Sweden and Norway. In Denmark, absolutism had given way to constitutional monarchism, but Danish and German nationalism, the pan-nationalism of the Scandinavianists and the regionalism of the Schleswig-Holsteiners had all failed. Moreover, as we shall see in the sequel to this book, Scandinavia and Bismarck, the great powers decided after the First Schleswig War that it was in Europe’s interest to recreate the Danish Unitary State in a classic dynastic manner by combining the hereditary claims of the houses of Glücksburg and Hessen.

In short, if the Scandinavianists’ hopes for uniting Scandinavia were dashed in the summer of 1848 they were outright thrashed in the following years. The London Treaty of 1852 (also known as the Second London Protocol) signed by all the great powers decided on a new line of succession in Denmark that formally blocked any prospect for a dynastic union of Scandinavia. This is one of the reasons why some Scandinavian historians have seen 1848 as the culmination of political Scandinavianism. Another reason is the fact that political Scandinavianism changed political colours in more than one sense after the First Schleswig War, as we shall return to below. In both cases, it is important to note that most Scandinavian historians are liberals. As such, they have a liberal view of international relations. They believe in international corporation and the sanctity of treaties, while they abhor the realpolitik that was characteristic for the unification nationalism in Europe in 1850s and 1860s. In other words, while few Scandinavian historians have taken the Scandinavianism of the 1830s and 1840s seriously they have been sympathetic towards the liberalism of the movement and especially its cultural programme (to which many of them still subscribe). As we will show in the sequel to this book, few, if any, Scandinavian historians have had sympathy for the so-called dynastic Scandinavianism of the 1850s and 1860s that tried to reach its goals by breaking treaties and waging war. In that sense, Scandinavian historiography is affected by a moral judgment. There is a divide between the ‘good’ liberal and cultural Scandinavianism prior to the First Schleswig War and the ‘evil’ and degenerated, dynastic, and power-hungry Scandinavianism focused in the run-up to the Second Schleswig War. In short, the latter type of political Scandinavianism fits poorly into the Scandinavian equivalent of the Whig Interpretation of History (e.g. the master narrative).

If we leave the moralist perspective aside. That is, if try to make a valueless judgement that neither embraces the liberalist tendencies of traditionalist historiography nor the cynical realism of mid-nineteenth-century power politics and dynastic Scandinavianism. Then, the question is whether the events of 1848 can be used to support the master narrative? From a purely dynastic perspective, one could argue that to the extent that there was a window of opportunity for Scandinavianism in 1848, it was smaller than those that existed during the Napoleonic Wars. If Frederick VI had played his cards better in 1809, if Charles August had not died in 1810 or if Napoleon had endorsed the candidature of either the Danish King, Christian (VIII) Frederick or the Duke of Augustenburg in 1810, then Nordic history would have had a very different trajectory. On the other hand, ideological the Scandinavianist movement was both culturally and politically far more developed in 1848 than during the Napoleonic Wars where it was in its infancy at best. In short, the possibilities for a dynastic unification of Scandinavia were better between 1809 and 1814, but the there was little it terms of an ideology that could have been used to create a common Scandinavian identity that would have been necessary for creating a long-term viable Scandinavian state.

Hence, it is not unreasonable to use the events of the Napoleonic Wars and the First Schleswig War to support the master narrative within Scandinavian historiography. In 1809 and 1810, France was the dominant European power, but its ruler took little interest in dynastic Scandinavianism, at least insofar as stopping short of outright endorsement of such a solution. Therefore, it failed. In 1848 to 1851 Russia dominated the continent. Although rejecting Scandinavianism for ideological and geopolitical reasons, Scandinavian unification was not entirely out of the question for St. Petersburg should circumstances dictate it. Hence, even if the political and cultural developments after the Napoleonic Wars were key in creating the pan-nationalist movement neither the European revolutions of 1848 nor the First Schleswig War created the international environment that was required to unite Scandinavia, at least not for long enough. In the longer term the advent of liberal nationalism had only served to make a Scandinavian union less likely. Even if France and Great Britain were not against liberal nationalism after 1830, they were more than hesitant to invest in nationalist movements and actively support them if they ran counter to the interest of the other great powers as they almost always did in the cases of Russia and Austria.

Hence, it could be argued that if dynastic Scandinavianism in the Age of Napoleon stood little chance, then political Scandinavianism of the 1840s stood even less chance. Accordingly, it can be claimed—as it often has—that Scandinavianism like other pan-nationalist movements of the period was bound to fail as it ran counter to the interest of the great powers that dominated continental affairs prior to the Crimean War. However, there was a small window of opportunity for a Scandinavianist policy in the spring of 1848. Russia did not involve itself diplomatically in First Schleswig War until late May and was, for a short while, prepared to accept Scandinavian unification as a necessary evil. If Sweden-Norway immediately had heeded the calls for aid from Denmark, say in late March or early April, then Swedish and Norwegian troops could have been in Jutland by early to mid-May. In that case, they could have been involved in the Danish defence of the peninsula against the German forces under general Wrangel. If Sweden and Norway first had been in involved in the fighting, it would have been difficult to pull out of the war and events could have taken on a new logic of its own. As we have seen, Scandinavianists were in no doubt that this logic would entail institutional cooperation on military and political levels as well as dynastic change.

This line of argument should not be misconstrued. As we see it, it was understandable that the Scandinavianist thought their moment had arrived in the Spring of 1848. It was not given that events took the turn that they did. In hindsight, however, it must be admitted that their window of opportunity was small indeed. The fact that events unfolded as they did can be used in support of a structuralist account of historical development in general and a deterministic account of Scandinavian history in particular. The future of Scandinavia was not decided by the deeds of ‘great men’ or individual decisions by key agents, but by the interests of the great powers. A lesson that Sweden and Norway had, according to traditionalist historiography, already learned by 1834, when Charles John issued a declaration of neutrality on behalf of his united kingdoms. A liberal interpretation of the declaration could be that geography allowed the Scandinavian peninsula to conduct a policy of neutrality. A policy that can be seen as morally superior. A realist interpretation could be that the Scandinavian states were prisoners of their size and geography. The liberal interpretation is especially found in Swedish and Norwegian historiography, whereas the realist interpretation is predominant in within Danish historiography. The difference must be understood against the backdrop of later political developments, national experiences, and different security policies post-1945. Nonetheless, in all cases appeasement, neutrality, and small state politics was to be the future for all the Scandinavian countries until 1940. A united Scandinavia was not. According to this view, which is still predominant in most Scandinavian historiography, the Scandinavian past did not have several futures. It only had one: The present Nordic national welfare states that we know today.Footnote 1

In Chap. 6, we reached a preliminary conclusion. Traditionalist interpretations are right in pointing out the serious problems that political Scandinavianism faced, many of which can be seen as structural. Nonetheless, we highlighted that none of these challenges were unique to it. They were common to nationalist movement across the continent. Hence, we found none of the traditional explanations for the downfall of political Scandinavianism to be sufficient. Neither in themselves nor combined. We suggested that domestic and especially international politics, agency, chance events, and timing had to be considered as well. The failure of the movement in 1848, however, can be made to fit the more structural interpretation of the Scandinavian past that is characteristic of the master narrative. This makes it necessary to revisit our preliminary conclusion from Chap. 6 in this last chapter of the book.

In the remaining part of this chapter, we will argue that while structuralist conditions to some extent may explain the failure of political Scandinavianism in 1848, they are not able to account for the missed opportunities of the movement in the 1850s and 1860s. Unlike traditionalist Scandinavian historiography, we will suggest that Scandinavia’s political history ought to be seen and understood within the framework of European high politics. Just as it was the case with most cases of European nationalism, Scandinavianism was a reaction to the upheaval of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. In its liberal and radical forms, it failed in 1848 and its aftermath. Just as all other cases of political nationalism across the continent. However, this was neither the end of political Scandinavianism nor of political nationalism in Europe in general. It was above all the beginning of a process of transformation for nationalism and politics alike.

Scandinavianism survived the revolutions of 1848–1849 and the First Schleswig War both as an ideology and as a political movement. However, it changed politically and adapted to the new international environment. In this, the Scandinavianist drew many of the same lessons that nationalist drew across the continent in the wake of the revolutions. The failure of the political nationalism and pan-nationalism alike reshaped these movements. An alliance between political and dynastic Scandinavianism was forged in the first half of the 1850s. United, Scandinavianists and Scandinavian royals tried to unify Scandinavia during the Crimean War were the international conditions now favoured their project.

In this, Scandinavianism mirrored Italian and German unification nationalism. In Germany and Italy alike, conservatives and royals opened to nationalism as ideology that could be used to attain their traditional political goals for security and expansion outwards and uniformity and control inwards. Moreover, the failure of the revolutions made many liberals and radicals nationalist either move to right or at least willing to ally themselves with the crown and conservatives to realize their nationalist aspirations. In the same manner, it was the changes within high politics that made possible for these new alliances to work realistically towards their goals. For example, the entry of Sweden-Norway into the Crimean War on the side of France and Great Britain was on the table, in the event of which Denmark was expected to follow suit. However, reluctance and mistrust on the part of King Oscar I when the allies courted him in 1854, and the sudden end to the war when he was prepared to make the leap in early 1856, came in the way. Yet, as we shall see in further detail in the sequel to the current book, the Crimean War nevertheless constituted a major window of opportunity for Scandinavian unification, as the Scandinavian courts tied largely their efforts to join the war to the Scandinavianist cause and movement. Conversely, Piemont joined the western powers in the war against Russia to gain French support for Italian unification. Even if the strategy did not pan out in the short term, it paved the way for an alliance with France few years that made unification possible. This in turn inspired German nationalist and Scandinavianist alike.

These developments are topics for Scandinavia and Bismarck that explores the zenith of political Scandinavianism between 1851 and 1871. The remainer of this book will serve as a bridge between this book and its sequel. It will do so by stressing the changes in European politics in the aftermath of the revolutions of 1848–1849 making it even more necessary to understand Scandinavianism and its possibilities in the light of a general European ideological and political development. Moreover, we argue both in the present book and its sequel, Scandinavia and Bismarck, that making sense of the changes in political Scandinavianism from the pre-1848 era to the post-1848 period helps us understand a general trend within European nationalism.

War and Nationalism

Even if the tsar briefly considered Scandinavian unification as a possible but unfortunate outcome of the turmoil of 1848, Russia was generally considered as a major obstacle to Scandinavianism. However, the Crimean War meant Russia lost its preeminent position on the continent to France. Whereas Russia was a backbone of the international system created at and in the wake of the Congress of Vienna, it was the policy of the Second French Empire to destroy the system. Even if Napoleon III’s reign never resulted in the same upheaval as that of his uncle, it drastically altered European high politics for a period and made change possible. Once again, it was war that made change possible. Hence, while the structural and geographical arguments of the master narrative have some merit when it comes in the 1840s. Their inbuilt determinism becomes far more problematic by the mid-1850s. The changes within European high politics, the nationalist policies of Napoleon III and the attempts to merge royal ambition with nationalist goals made Italian and German unification nationalism viable in the 1850s and 1860s.

It must be admitted that while Scandinavianism (but not Danish nationalism) went out with a whimper in the summer of 1848, German and Italian unification nationalism went out with more of a bang. This can be used in support of a more traditionalist account of events. But even if a Scandinavian war of unification over Schleswig was never fought in 1848, the future of the duchy and political Scandinavianism became even more entangled in the years to come, especially as the outcome of the Crimean War opened new opportunities for Scandinavianism in much the same manner as it did for Italian and German unification nationalism. The two latter both succeeded in the 15 years that followed this change in international politics.

As we shall return to in Scandinavia and Bismarck, the same pattern was repeated in all three cases. As mentioned, the failure of the revolution of 1848 pushed many liberals and even some radicals towards a collaboration with the royal houses of Europe in the realisation that their nationalist policies could only come true with the support of the princes of Europe. For the liberals, this move was made easier by an enhanced distaste for the radicalism brought along by the experience of the revolutions and their new experience with practical politics. Correspondingly, the revolutions had also made some conservatives and royals keenly aware that they would be unable to hold nationalism at bay in the long run. Moreover, some of them also saw a nationalism as a potential tool in their hands to realise long held geopolitical ambitions of their states.

This furthered not only the development of what Benedict Anderson has called ‘official nationalism’,Footnote 2 but also the possibility for combining dynastic goals with nationalism. The policies pursued by Piemont and Prussia are good examples of this. As touched upon, some political Scandinavianist were already prior to 1848 acutely aware of the need to form an alliance with the ruling house of Scandinavia. What changed with the First Schleswig War was that King Frederick, King Oscar and his heirs embraced Scandinavianism to suit their own purposes. The result was an alliance between political Scandinavianism and dynastic Scandinavianism that for most purposes made them interlock for the next two decades. One of the key questions, as we shall return to in the sequel to this book, became the line of succession in Denmark. In this manner, the events to follow can be seen as archetypical for a general European development.

‘Official nationalism’ not only played a vital role in the unifications of Italy and Germany. This type of nationalism can also clearly be seen in two different kinds of Pan-Slavism, an Austro-Slavism that tried to unify different Slavic nations in a federation or confederation under the auspice of the Habsburgs and its Slavophil counterpart that stove for Slavic autonomy and unity with the help of Russia and the Romanovs. The ‘official nationalism’ was not only apparent amongst the Pan-Slavists themselves, but also the Royals that ruled them in the aftermath of the European revolutions of 1848 right up to the end of the First World War. Several Austrian archdukes developed elaborate plans for a federative Habsburg empire. These plans were not confined to the Habsburg lands. They also involved ideas of uniting different Slavic nations through wars of expansion. In the Balkans, a Yugoslavia could be created under a Habsburg prince and through a war with Russia a restored Polish Kingdom and a Ukrainian principality could be formed under the auspice of a Austrian archduke. In short, in the last decades of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century even the Habsburgs tried to combine empire, nationalism and monarchism.Footnote 3

As we saw in Chap. 8, the Swedish parliamentarian Gustaf Ferdinand Ekholm was rather alone when fearing in May 1848 that the springtime of people would usher in a new age of conflict. This leads us the crucial role of war for nationalism. When push came to shove in 1848, many Scandinavianists saw war as means to an end in the same manner as Italian and German nationalist. In all three cases, efforts of the (pan)nationalists proved in vain, but rather than a return the pre-1848 notion of a brotherhood of nations their failure only made their policies more belligerent. In the cases of Italy and Germany it lead to a series of wars that gave birth to two nation states. Hence, the revolutions of 1848 should not just be seen as an event, but as the introduction of an era of single revolutionary change that lasted until 1871 (or even 1878). Within this timespan Europe was once more transformed by war.Footnote 4

This gives credence to some of the assumptions found within classical historical sociology. That not only the state, but also the nation (state) was created through war. This perception is prominent in the writings of Charles Tilly and Michael Mann, and it has in recent years been underlined by work of Andreas Wimmer.Footnote 5

According to the latter:

Nationalism as a new principle of legitimacy emerged from Tilly’s war-making Western states. Increasing state centralization and military mobilization led to a new contract between rulers and ruled: the exchange of political participation and public goods against taxation and the military support by the population at large. The idea of the nation as an extended family of political loyalty and shared identity provided the ideological framework that reflected and justified this new compact. It meant that elites and masses should identify with each other and that rulers and ruled should hail from the same people.Footnote 6

This made the first nation states, Great Britain, USA, and France, military and politically more powerful than the classic dynastic states turning them into models to emulate by political leaders in other states. In short, Wimmer—as Tilly before him—sees a process where superior nation state replaced dynastic empires, but unlike older scholarship he does not see this as a peaceful transition. On the contrary, the shift in legitimacy in itself caused a wave of wars. In this view, war, state building, and nation building are intertwined as are the development of political identities and violence.Footnote 7

Wimmer, however, does not engaged with the fact that these nation states also created empires. Somewhat in contrast to him, Siniša Malešević question both the dichotomy between nationalism and imperialism and connection between wars and nation building, especially outside Western Europe. Drawing on amongst other John Breuilly, Partha Chatterjee, Krishan Kumar, and John Hall, Malešević argues that nationalism and imperialism should not be seen as incompatible. In his view, nineteenth-century empires used nationalism to increase their power ‘by penetrating their societies and nationalising their polities’. In Malešević interpretation, the new Balkan states of the nineteenth century clearly combined nationalism and imperialist expansionism, even if only temporarily. For example, in the case of Serbia in the Balkan Wars (1912–1913) the conquest of territory was followed by the immediate desire to homogenize these with Serbia as quickly and powerfully as possible. States such as USA, China, and Russia are best understood as hybrids, e.g. ‘nation-empires’.

The wars over Schleswig can be used to support both views. The wars combined the classic wars of succession with Danish nationalism, German nationalism and Scandinavian pan-nationalism. The strategy and ideology of the house of Glücksburg that ascended to the Danish throne in November 1863 was that of a classic dynasticism that was incompatible with (pan)nationalism, while the house of Bernadotte clearly embraced an ‘official nationalism’ that combined dynastic ambitions with (pan)nationalism and wars of expansion. The same can be said of Bismarck and Prussia in the German Wars of Unification (including the Second Schleswig War in 1864).

As for the role and significance of war, Malešević agrees with Wimmer as far as their importance in the formation of states. However, he does not believe it as central in creation of nations and nationalism. If nationalism is understood as mass nationalism (as in Hroch’s phase C), as Malešević does, then one may indeed doubt whether war made the nation. There was no mass nationalism in Italy at the time of unification. This was even less so the case in the Balkans. Nationalist movements in Serbia, Bulgaria and Greece were according to Malešević weak and marginal and ‘nationalism was largely developed after independence’.Footnote 8

Despite their difference, lessons of relevance to our case can be drawn from the divergent views of Wimmer and Malešević. War has been pivotal to the creation of states. Nineteenth-century Europe was certainly no exception. Hence, there was good reason for the Scandinavianists to think alone the lines of waging a war of unification. Moreover, if a political nationalism of the elite is seen as sufficient, then nationalism and war was indeed interlinked in the case of Italian unification. The unification not only inspired German nationalists, but also Scandinavianist activists, politicians and royals who tried to united Scandinavia in the period spanning from the Crimean War to the unification of Germany. However, as we shall see in Bismarck and Scandinavia this connection between Italian and Scandinavian unification was not only made in Scandinavia, but also in Italy as Italian nationalists, politicians, and royals took a keen interest in political Scandinavianism. The unification of Scandinavia was not only seen as a clear parallel to Italian unification by key Italian agents, but also as a movement that could be made to serve the interests of the still unfinished Risorgimento.

In the final analysis, the failure of Scandinavianism in 1848 cannot be used as a general argument against the possibilities of political Scandinavianism. This does not mean that the arguments of the anti-Scandinavianists, which have shaped the master narrative within Scandinavian historiography, should be discounted. However, unlike much earlier research on political Scandinavianism, we believe that the focus should not only be on the pre-1848 era, but also on the post-1848 period where a new ‘official nationalism’ merged dynastic ambitions with nationalism. In the cases Italian and German unification nationalism this clearly bore fruit. Naturally, one could argue—as traditionalist have done and still do—that Pan-Slavism and Scandinavianism were still bound to fail as they were multi-national rather than national. We have explored the question in Chap. 6, but we may add to the discussion by examine some of the elements of nationalist ideology and by comparing Scandinavianism to cases of Pan-Slavism, Slav nationalisms, and creation of (Pan)Slavic states.

Faces of Scandinavianism

It has often been noted that nationalism has a Janus face as it looks both to the past and to the future. However, as pointed out by Benedict Anderson, nationalism is also two-faced in another sense. On one hand, it can inspire love and self-sacrifice. On the other, it can cause fear and loathing.Footnote 9 All four faces are clearly seen in the case of Scandinavianism. The first set of faces were visible in the deliberate attempt to construct a common Scandinavian past by the Scandinavianist to facilitate their belief in a common future, as discussed in Chaps. 2 and 4.

The futures that they envisioned never came to be, which is the key reason why political Scandinavianism has been ignored, sidelined, or ridiculed by historians. As already touched upon, this prevailing train of thought boils down to a determinism that holds the present-day Nordic national states as preordained. This argumentation is neither logical nor historically sound. As shown in Chap. 6, few if any Scandinavians of the 1840s predicted the future. Hence, the anti-Scandinavianist that traditional historiography has relied upon were no better of predicting the future than the Scandinavianist. Moreover, several of the future scenarios of the anti-Scandinavianists were informed by a pre-1848 mode of thinking. In general, the anti-Scandinavianists relied on the resilience on the Vienna System whereas the Scandinavianist embraced the same sort of politics that created Italy and Germany as nation states. Just as important, the Scandinavianist were not alone in seen a united Scandinavian as a possible future. So did many in the cabinets of Europe who either wanted it, feared it, or believed that they could use it suit their own interests. Hence, Scandinavianist foreign policy thinking was in tune with the thinking of the men that change the map of Europe between 1848 and 1871.

As for the Anti-Scandinavianist and their foreign policy, they cannot be seen as a homogenous group. Some adapted to the new post-revolutionary political realities in their own way. They recognised that European politics had become more volatile. This only made them more determined to stay neutral and keep out of European affairs. Their foreign policy was one of isolationism as an alternative to the activist Scandinavianist policy of their monarchs (Oscar I and Charles XV). The Schleswig question made this sort of policy impossible for Danish Anti-Scandinavianist. Many of them clung to Vienna system in the hope that if they abided by it, the Unitary state could be saved. These hopes were dashed, as we shall see in Scandinavia and Bismarck. Anything short of a return to absolutism or becoming a de facto vassal state of the German Confederation (or joining it) would have made an understanding between the Confederation and Denmark impossible. Moreover, neither strategy would have accommodated Prussian’s territorial ambitions. In short, Danish Anti-Scandinavianism was out of touch with the realpolitik of the period. This was, as we shall return to, underlined by the Danish Anti-Scandinavianists in general and the house of Glücksburg in particularly tied their fortune to Russia even after the Crimean War.

Naturally, it can be argued that even if the anti-Scandinavianists did not foresee the future of Scandinavia, they did predict the downfall of political Scandinavianism. This can give their judgement some credence. As mentioned in Chap. 6, one of their main arguments against political Scandinavianism was that the national cultures were already to ingrained in the populations of the three Scandinavian countries to redirected into a Pan-Scandinavian political project. The core of the argument, which was been adopted by most later historians, was that Swedes, Norwegians, and Danes already had a national past that could not be replaced by a common Scandinavian one. This narrative of the Anti-Scandinavianism and traditionalist Scandinavian historians mirror the tale of Yugoslavia. Even before the state came into existence, some argued that its pan-national or supra-national elements made it ‘unnatural’ and ‘unsustainable’. Not surprisingly, this interpretation gained favour in the wake of the dissolution of Yugoslavia in the 1990s expressed in the idea of Yugoslavia as an ‘impossible nation’.Footnote 10

This objection is plausible and should be taken more seriously than the default nationalist determinism of Scandinavian historiography. As noted by the Luxembourgian political scientist and historian Florian Bieber, when a given population first have accepted a national identity it is very difficult to change it.Footnote 11 The question is whether the development of national identity in the Scandinavian countries had, by the mid-nineteenth century, come so far as to render change impossible. The importance of this objection makes it necessary to add to the arguments already fielded against this interpretation in Chap. 6. We will do so by adding several counterclaims that challenges a traditionalist interpretation of pan-nationalism and hereby also the master narrative within Scandinavian historiography.

Firstly, whereas a Scandinavia as a greater Sweden or a Swedish dominated union would have led to strong Norwegian and Danish dissatisfaction that in the medium to long term would have made a united Scandinavia unsustainable, we need to keep in mind that the vast majority of the Scandinavianist promoted a weak form of Scandinavianism. That is a pan-nationalism that gave room for the three national identities and tried to tie the three nations together by creating a federation. Federalism is intrinsic to the construction of the present-day United States and Germany as it was a part of the case of Yugoslavia.

In the latter instance, federalism was not enough to keep the state together in the long term. Andreas Wimmer suggests that the distribution of public goods is one the keys elements to a successful nation building. The lack hereof can be seen as one of the reasons for the failure of the Yugoslav federation. Whether a Scandinavian federation could have worked is impossible to say. Naturally, people may disagree on what is a fair and well-balanced distribution of power, but as we shall return to in Scandinavia and Bismarck, the plan for the distribution of power within a united Scandinavia was an honest attempt to create a fair balance between the three nations. That does not preclude that there would have been infight between the three states over the distribution of public goods nor competing national interest. Furthermore, the power distribution suggest in the draft-treaty of 1864 could have caused dissatisfaction amongst some Swedes as they saw a Scandinavian solution either in the terms of a Great Sweden or not at all.Footnote 12

Secondly, even if one does not accept that a weak Scandinavianism would have allowed a national and a pan-national identity to co-exists, it does not follow that a strong Scandinavianism was impossible. That is the development of a Scandinavian identity as the national identity. Mass nationalism (Hroch’s phase C) had not occurred in any of the Scandinavian countries by the 1840s. While some perennialist scholars in the Nordic countries may assert the existence of national identities in the general population in the Middle Ages, no modernist scholar of Nordic nationalism believes that mass nationalism existed prior to the late 1860s at the earliest. That is not to say that there were no ideas of being Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian in the middle of the nineteenth century. There were. However, these identities were still a far cry for a modern-day national identification.

In the Danish case, this has been excellently illustrated by Søren Frost in his study of patriotism in the letters of Danish soldiers in the First Schleswig War. His conclusion was that there was a conspicuous lack hereof. Soldiers from the peasantry were loyal towards the Crown, they fought in the name of the king, and they identified themselves primarily with their village and region. Sons of well-off farmers did a rudimentary idea of nationhood whereas the lower classes did not. They knew that being ‘Danish’ was something good, whereas being ‘German’ was bad, but many of them did not connect these concepts with ideas of nationality, language, culture, or history at all. This can be seen when soldiers from Zealand declared that the local population on Funen was ‘German’ because they felt ill-treated.Footnote 13

Hence, even if one accepts that mass nationalism in one or more of the three Scandinavian countries would have marked a point of no return (as we do not), it had not occurred yet. Not even in Norway where the general population was far more political aware than in Denmark. Moreover, even if we accept that there was a competitive relationship between the three national identities and a Scandinavian identity (which by no means was clear), it should be acknowledge that (pan)nationalists reinterpret the past and invent symbols to suit their needs. ‘Often the national ideology’, as Steven Mock notes, ‘will do so by claiming a greater authenticity than the principles associate with the existing ethnic culture, identifying as a purifying manifestation of an earlier golden age that was subsequently corrupted.’Footnote 14

This was indeed possible for the Scandinavianists. Their narrative was one of common origin in the distant past predating the present nations. They used Norse history and Norse mythology in inventing a Nordic identity that bound Scandinavians together in the past, the present, and in the future. The Iron Age and the Viking Age fitted neatly into their narrative, while it was not difficult to reinterpret the Middle Age in Scandinavia with the union of Kalmar into a Scandinavianist story line as we have seen. One could indeed argue that a Scandinavianist master narrative at some points present less of a stretch than the nationalist narratives than won out. This line of thought can be cooperated by how Bulgarian and Serbian national histories were constructed in the nineteenth century. In both cases, historians with state backing built national histories on the idea of an ‘unbroken continuity’ between empires of the Middle Ages and the newly formed nations states of Bulgaria and Serbia. All these empires had been ethnically mixed, and their territories did not correspond to those of the new states. Nonetheless, the were used to create a sense of continuity and justify nationalists’ policies of expansion to (re)create a greater Bulgaria and a greater Serbia spilling into pan-nationalist ideas that were reproduced in geography and history textbooks. In these the great kings of the past were imbued with the motives and ambitions of nineteenth-century Bulgarian and Serbian nationalists. In this they mirrored the Scandinavianists’ use of Queen Margaret and the Kalmar union.Footnote 15

The early modern period, however, presented more of a challenge. The ethnic groups within Scandinavia became more defined and the inter-state warfare not only created negative stereotypes between Danes, Swedes, Norwegians, but also created a history that was been easier to fit into purely national narratives that into a common Scandinavian one. However, as shown by Tim van GervenFootnote 16 and discussed in Chap. 4, it was possible to construct a common Scandinavian history by using some of the same tricks that was used by the father of historical fiction, Sir Walter Scott. Hence, any competent Scandinavian historian would in the wake of a unification have been able to construct a history of Scandinavia in the same manner as national history books were create not only for Italy and Germany, but also for the Pan-Slavic states of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia. Such a common history would not have precluded histories of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. Furthermore, even though it might have been difficult, it is not impossible that a common language could have constructed after a unification in the same manner as the Serbo-Croatian language only was institutionalized after the creation of Yugoslavia.Footnote 17

As already argued, the difference within Scandinavia were no greater that those within Italy, nor were they greater than those between the different peoples of Yugoslavia. Even if Yugoslavia fell apart there is no denying that it existed, and for a time there was a sense of a common identity, history, and language. This may suggest that the idea that the national cultures within Scandinavia already by the 1840s were so incompatible that they made a Scandinavian state and identity impossible can be seen as an expression of what Sigmund Freud has called the ‘narcissism of small differences’. That is the idea, that the more communities are alike, the more hypersensitive they are to minor differences. Examples of this is not hard to come by within Scandinavia past and present.Footnote 18 Nonetheless, this narcissism does not preclude that a common identity could have been developed after unification in a century that was already marked by a close collaboration between Scandinavian artists, writers, and scholars as saw in Chap. 4.

Thirdly, the examples that Bieber uses to prove his point are Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia. Both are highly relevant in comparison to the concept of a united Scandinavia as they were cases of pan-nationalism. Here attempts were made to create a common identity out of more or less well-defined national identities with different languages (or dialects). In the case of Yugoslavia, there were also three major religions inside the new state. The two cases, however, are not clear-cut. Three points can be made that complicate matters.

The first point is that even if the national identities in these cases, as claimed by Bieber, had become too developed for a successful nation- and state-building both Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia came into being. Hence, while the analogy between Pan-Slavism and Scandinavianism by traditionalist historians may be used as an argument for a united Scandinavian would not have been viable in the long run, it cannot be used as an argument for the impossibility of creating a Scandinavian state in the first place.

The second point is that both Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia were created in the aftermath of the First World War. The windows of opportunity for Scandinavianism, as we shall return to in the sequel, were open in the 1850s and 1860s. In short, a Scandinavian nation building would have taken place more than 50 years prior. It was in this half century between 1870 and 1920 that Europe saw its most intense period of nation building. All else being equal, a pan-national state project should have had better chance of success in the mid-nineteenth than the attempts made after 1918.

The third point is that the idea of well-developed pre-existing national identities in the case of the nations that made up Yugoslavia can be called into question. According to Siniša Malešević, nation building in the Balkans were impaired by a lack of infrastructure, an underdeveloped educational system, and a top-down state driven approach that lacked a strong civilian society. Mass nationalism was not the case in the Balkans until the early twentieth century.Footnote 19 As for Czech high culture, it was not rooted in a medieval Bohemian state. This was a retrospect construction of nineteenth-century Czech nationalism.Footnote 20

This last point is a two-edged sword. On one side, it makes Bieber’s examples questionable. On the other side, it makes it clear that nation-build in the three Scandinavian countries had come much further by the mid-nineteenth century than in the Balkans. Hence, it is possible to claim that if national identities that were less developed than those found within Scandinavia caused the demise of the pan-national states of Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia, then a united Scandinavia stood little chance in the long run. Most Scandinavian historians would probably subscribe to the latter view. However, we should keep in mind that the mass nationalism of late nineteenth-century Scandinavia was created by the state and by urban and rural elites. Many within these elites were both nationalists and Scandinavianist. If a Scandinavian federation had come into being, then the state and these elites would actively have promoted a Scandinavian identity.

That is not to say that all nationalists within Scandinavia would have embraced a Scandinavian identity. However, as Andreas Wimmer has suggested nationalism in the nineteenth century was a battle between competing identities promoted by different elites where ‘the masses moved last and choose’ between different proposals depending on the resources these different systems would offer them. According to Wimmer, war played a vital role in this process. Malešević, on the other hand, uses the case of Serbia to argue that nationalist elites often carried their expansionist policies through against the wishes of the people. Hence, most Serbians did not support the idea of a Greater Serbia that was dominant with the urban elite. This, however, did not stop the latter from pursuing their aims. Much the same can be said of Greece, Bulgaria, Romania, Montenegro, and Albania that all had plans for territorial expansion.Footnote 21

Even if Scandinavianism was not the sole motive for the more than a thousand Swedes and Norwegians that volunteered to fight for Denmark in the two wars over Schleswig, it was certainly one of the motives and for some indeed the primary reason. In short, some Swedes and Norwegians were willing to fight and if needed died in the name of a common Scandinavian cause. It is important to note that the number of Swedes and Norwegians that joint the Danish army were substantially lower than the Italian volunteers that joined the ranks of Garibaldi in his campaigns to unify Italy. Nonetheless, they motives were comparable. As such it can be seen as an expression of love and self-sacrifice that created the idea of a ‘we’, which is central to any national movement. A ‘we’, however, requires a ‘them’ and as persuasively shown amongst other by Eric Hobsbawm and Steven Mock, there is no better way to unite a nation that by pitting it against another nation.Footnote 22

In other words, fear, outside threats, and war are often vital in the creation of national identities and a nation states. This was certainly the case with Italy and German. However, Italian and German unification nationalism may have had an advantage over Scandinavianism in being more unison in their fears. Austria was the enemy to Italian nationalists and even if Russia was also an enemy to many German nationalists, France was their primary enemy. The Scandinavianists were more split. Nearly all Scandinavianists saw both Germany and Russia as an enemy, but for the Danes Germany was the primary enemy whereas Russia was it to Swedes and Norwegians. In this divide they had more in common with Pan-Slavism in its many different forms.

Political Pan-Slavism

As discussed in Chap. 2, pan-nationalism is in general tied to political failure within nationalism studies. For this very reason Alexander Maxwell has suggested to change the focus in the study of pan-nationalism in general and Pan-Slavism in particular from ‘high politics’ to ‘low politics’ that does not entail goals of statehood. To Maxwell, the hegemony of ‘high politics’ is dangerous, as it assumes that:

[A]ny activist invoking the rhetoric of the “pan-national” must therefore necessarily nature high-political aspirations. Those scholars tend to dismiss contrary evidence as deception. […] Scholars form the high-political school may mistakenly assume “pan-nationalists” want to found a state, since low-political aspirations, such as schemes for orthographic reform, do not qualify as “nationalism” as they understand it.Footnote 23

We agree with Maxwell that were and there still are pan-nationalists without any high political aims on behalf of their movement. Moreover, we sympathise with his effort to show that pan-nationalism could have real impact even it failed politically. Scandinavianism can indeed be seen as example of this.Footnote 24 Nonetheless, Maxwell’s approach implicitly perpetuates the idea that pan-nationalist movements were bound to fail within the realm of high politics. Without denying the importance of the study of ‘low politics’ we believe it to be a mistake to abandon the study of ‘high-politics’ in its favour. Both should be studied. Moreover, it is important to recognize that pan-nationalism had real impact on high-politics.

Firstly, even if one believes that pan-nationalism failed politically, it does not follow that it had no impact on ‘high-politics’. This impact is both seen within states and in the reactions of other states to it. Pan-Slavism is an excellent example hereof, something which Maxwell unintentionally points to himself. He correctly claims that the Pan-Slavism that emerged with Jan Herkel and Jan Kollár in the first decade of the nineteenth century was purely cultural. This makes him decry how Pan-Slavism was depicted in as a political movement in the press in Germany, France, and Great Britain—to say nothing of Scandinavia. Indeed, German nationalists and Scandinavianists genuinely feared Pan-Slavism as a possible vehicle for Russian expansionism. The examples that Maxwell refers to, however, are all from the 1840s. By that time a political Pan-Slavism had emerged amongst a younger generation of Slav intellectuals. Even if the gulf between cultural and political Pan-Slavism cannot solely be seen as a divide between two generations, a generational gap should be seen as part of the explanation as in the case of Scandinavia (see Chap. 4).Footnote 25

Secondly, political Pan-Slavism mirrored the world view of the political Scandinavianism described earlier in this book. As in the case of Scandinavianism, Pan-Slavism became a political factor in the 1840s partly as a response to German unification nationalism. When revolution in 1848 seemly opened a window of opportunity both political movements tried to reach their goals.

When looking at Illyrism (South Slavism), it can be argued along the lines of Maxwell that the individual nationalisms within the movement already held the seed of its destruction. Serbia was compared by contemporises to Piemont in much the same manner as Sweden was in Scandinavia. The comparison was already question by Hans Kohn in 1960 and has forcefully been criticised by Siniša Malešević lately. The ambitions of many Serbian nationalist are better understood alone the lines of a greater Serbia than for a Yugoslavia. This put it at odds with Croatian nationalism in much the same manner as the ambitions of the Swedish aristocrats that saw Scandinavianism as a mean to create a greater Sweden were at odds with Danish and Norwegian nationalisms and a weak and federative Scandinavianism. In both cases, these ambitions are better to compare with Prussia than with Piemont. However, even if Pan-Slavism for some—or even most—Serb nationalist was only an ulterior motive it does not follow that the movement as a political project was doomed.Footnote 26

Thirdly, even if the First Pan-Slav Congress in Prague in 1848 failed, it did not mean that political Pan-Slavism failed as such. On the contrary, it has been argued that the year was the birth of political nationalism in Eastern Europe.Footnote 27 Pan-Slavism survived the revolutions just as German and Italian unification nationalism and Scandinavianism and as the two former it did succeed in creating states. Czechoslovakia (1918–1939, 1945–1992) and Yugoslavia (1918–2003/6). Even if the latter changed its name several times and differed in size, organisation, and type of government over time it must be acknowledged that it existed and there were people who identified themselves as Yugoslavs. The same can be said for Czechoslovakia and the Czechoslovaks. Naturally, there is no denying that there were also other identities within these states and that they both fell apart as these identities in time undermined these states existence. But no state nor nation is eternal and identities that may be seen as the cause of their demise did not prevent their creation.

Whether or not their failures were inescapable is up for debate, but as Benedict Anderson has noted: ‘It is the magic of nationalism to turn chance into destiny’. In the past Czechoslovakian and Yugoslavian historians argued that the creation of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia was evitable. Now historians argued that their downfall was inevitable. History is always written from a point of view. A telling tale hereof is Hans Kohn’s study of Pan-Slavism, written in 1960. Here the two last chapters are entitled The Triumphs of the West-Slavs After World War I and The Triumphs of the East-Slavs After World War II respectively.Footnote 28 As Eric Beckett Weaver rightly points out:

That the Yugoslav state failed and twice disintegrated in violence should not blind us to the fact that Yugoslavism once did exist—in the minds of many South Slavs who supported it, and of Austro-Hungarian officials who feared it. Though it may seem ‘impossible’ today, the Yugoslav impulses and identities that were revealed during the Balkan Was achieved something. Within a few extremely traumatic years, the people wo professed Yugoslavism were on the winning side of history.Footnote 29

Fourthly, even if one sees political Pan-Slavism as the creation of a foreign press (as Maxwell can be read), believes that Pan-Slavism was doomed to fail politically (as Bieber does) and rejects its international importance to state and nation building, it does not follow that is Pan-Slavism and Pan-nationalism was without importance to ‘high-politics’. As Siniša Malešević has shown with Serbia and Bulgaria, geopolitics and great power interest were of greater importance to the creation of these two (nation) states than mass nationalism (Hroch’s phase C). As recent studies of the two Balkan Wars (1912–1913) show, these wars are excellent examples of this interplay between geopolitics, high politics, and nationalism.Footnote 30

In short, when discussing political nationalism and political pan-nationalism it is not always enough to look at the movement within the territories that it involves. This is particularly true of nineteenth-century Europe. When dealing with nationalist movements of this era scholars should always examine how they were perceived by the cabinets of the great powers and in their publics sphere, how the movements affected the interests of the great powers, and how great power politics affect the movements in return. (Pan)-nationalism could not only pose a threat to a great power, but also present itself as an opportunity to create a new ally, hereby changing the balance of power in favour of one of the great powers.

As Hans Kohn writes in his classical study of Pan-Slavism, the movement was a result of a political awakening of the intellectuals in the wake of the Napoleonic Wars were nationalism, supra-nationalism, and imperialism mingled. It was a movement that was both inspired by German nationalism and must be seen as a reaction to it.Footnote 31 The two Pan-Slavic states, Yugoslavia, and Czechoslovakia, where in themselves the creation of a great upheaval, as they were formed in the aftermath of the First World War. Their size, shape, and composition, as we shall return to below can itself be seen as examples of the ‘threshold principle’. The nationalist principle was adapted, and closely related nations were joined to create state that had the sufficient resources to defend itself. Fear of foreign domination and the thread of invasion was key in keeping them together, while their intended role in the international system is key to understanding why the western powers supported their creation. Neither the former nor the later were unique to nation-building after the Great War. Both tendencies are clearly seen in many cases of nineteenth-century nationalism and pan-nationalism, including Scandinavianism. Here they reflect a ‘realist’ tendency that can be seen within some types of nationalism.

A ‘Realist’ Theory of Nationalism?

Whether ‘realism’ or ‘liberalism’ is the better approach to study of international relations is not for us to say. In our view both schools suffer from an overly structuralist account of international relations that underappreciates the importance of agency, politics and chance events. Furthermore, as pointed out by Andreas Wimmer:

Rationalist accounts seek to demonstrate that states go to war if their evaluations of who would win diverge from each other. Other scholars identify those pairs of states that are most war-prone: those with territorial disputes and a long history of rivalry, or those in which one of the states is a democracy and the other an autocracy, or those not bound together by dense networks of trade. In this vast and sophisticated literature, nationalism has not been treated as a serious candidate for explaining wars.Footnote 32

As for the latter, we agree with Wimmer. Nationalism has been a major source of war for the last 200 years and it should not simply be seen as ‘second order force in international politics’, as realists such as John J. Mearsheimer has argued. For the former, we will return to the relationship and relative importance of structural condition to chance events, politics, and agency in Scandinavia and Bismarck. The purpose of this discussion is therefore not to choose sides in theoretical debate within the social sciences, but as historians to analyse a past that is always more complex than any given theory.Footnote 33

If we look at nineteenth-century European high politics, both currents—realism and liberalism—can be found. The Congress of Vienna, the Allied Council in Paris, and the Congress of Aachen created a rule-based international system. In an institutional sense the Congress system can be seen as ‘liberal’ insofar as it was based on the sanctity of treaties and in principle a respect for constitutions even if these were still combined with ideas of balance of power and stopped well short of any system of collective security. The men behind the system, however, were hardly liberal. On the contrary, its supporters were mainly found amongst conservatives. Moreover, the system was extremely hierarchical. In the name of stability, the medium and minor powers were de facto disempowered. Naturally, the idea of the rule of law was not alien to liberals nor radicals, but they were more sceptical of a system that preserved a status quo that they wanted to change. Especially as it was kept in place by the likes of Prince Metternich and the Russian tsars.

As already touched upon, this did not keep the national liberals in Denmark from speculating in how the system could be manipulated to serve their goals. When they official argued for dividing the Danish unitary state at the river Eider (and not along national lines south of Flensburg in Schleswig), it was in part because they knew the great power acknowledged constitutional law, dynastic claims, and international treaties, but not nationalism. They put their trust in Great Britain as they wanted a solution brokered by a liberal western power and not by Russia. Therefore, it was a major disappointment to them that Lord Palmerston (unlike the tory opposition), did not acknowledged that Britain was bound by the treaty of 1720.

Palmerston’s policy did not only affect the Danish national liberals, but the Scandinavianists in as such. They began to lose faith in treaties. A development that was furthered by the general changes within European politics and by a wish to undo the London protocol of 1850 and the London Treaty of 1852 (also known as the Second London Protocol). They stood in the way of a united Scandinavia by preserving the Danish unitary state and by settling the Danish line of succession in favour of the house of Glücksburg rather than the Bernadottes. The former was not only seen as a hindrance to the unification of Scandinavia. The new heir presumptive, prince Christian (IX), was according to his critics culturally more German than Danish and politically extremely conservative with strong ties to St. Petersburg. The former made Danish nationalists and Scandinavianist alike fear both that the prince would cave into German demands to preserve the unitary state and that he would act as the tsar puppet. In short, as they saw it, his reign could turn Denmark into a German vassal state, have it join the German Confederation or into a Russian puddle state. Hence, there was good reason for why Scandinavianists were sceptical of the Vienna System and susceptible to the Realpolitik that came to dominant European high politics in the 1850s and 1860s.

Nonetheless, the anti-Scandinavianists, who supported the Vienna system, portrayed themselves as ‘realist’ and the Scandinavianists as ‘idealist’. This is in line with the traditional historiography that often sees the Vienna system as an expression of realism even if ideas of a rule base system where treaties were taken seriously are more in line with a liberal view of international relations. Naturally, as we know from conceptual history concepts are neither constant nor unambiguous in their meaning. We cannot without problems equate their use in the mid-nineteenth century with the way they are used today in the study of international relations. To a certain degree the statements of the anti-Scandinavianist reflects an already touched upon tendency within political discourse. Political agents prefer portraying themselves as been realist, while they are more than happy to write the view of their opponents as a utopian idealism. That being said, the pan-nationalism of the Scandinavianists and their approach to foreign policy and security policy has a lot in common with present-day ‘realism’. At its core was the threshold principle. It shaped the Scandinavianists view of the development of history, European high politics, and the future of their nations.

Everything has it history. The critics of ‘realism’ are right in calling the lore of the paradigm into question. It is doubtful if a straight line can be drawn from Thucydides over Machiavelli and Hobbes to the realist school that was developed during and in aftermath of the Second World War. This tradition may indeed as suggested by Matthew Specter be seen as an ‘invented tradition’. On the other hand, his theory on the origins of ‘realism’ is not without its problems. According to Specter, realism was invented by German scholars and intellectual of the post-1870 generation and exported and developed in the USA. However, social Darwinism both as a concept and as a line of though predates 1870. Moreover, even if concept such as Lebensraum where not invented until the turn of the last century, the idea can certainly be traced further back.Footnote 34

These ideas are clearly seen in the debates of the Frankfurt parliament in 1848. Here the natural hierarchy amongst nations, the superiority of the German people over the Slavs and the need to colonize the East was stated time and again, especially by historians such as Max Duncker and Wilhelm Jordan. Duncker saw colonization of Eastern Europe as the ‘natural order of things’, while Jordan spoke of the Poles as a ‘dead people’ and the German conquest of them as a ‘natural law’. Poznan was, according to Jordan, German by ‘the right of the stronger, the right of conquest’.Footnote 35

It must be granted that men like Jordan differ from present-day ‘realist’ by being heavily influenced by a Hegelian view of history. Nonetheless, even if the Drang nach Osten differed in its direction from the Weltpolitik of the 1890s it did not do so in its expansionist intent, its hierarchical thinking of nations and races, nor in its idea of the nation as a community of resources. Even if one belief that the origins of realism can only be understood in terms of imperialism, overseas expansion, and colonies these ideas were not exactly without precedent in the pre-1870 era. Friedrich List’s idea of the Netherlands and Denmark as German admiral states is a good example hereof as it featured prominently in German political discourse in the early 1840s. The Dutch and the Danes did not have the resources to survive on their own, but with their navies and colonies could serve German expansionism. This was only deemed to be natural as the Dutch and the Danes according to this line of though were indeed Germanic peoples. Hence, the incorporation of Denmark and the Netherlands into a united Germany not only served German national interest. It served that of the Germanic peoples in the international competition for resources and power.

In short, a ‘realist’ or ‘proto-realist’ line of thinking is heavily embedded in Hobsbawm’s concept of a ‘threshold principle’ within the national liberalism of this period. However, as already indicated, the principle was not only found amongst liberals, but also amongst radicals and—as we shall see—amongst conservatives such as Cavour, Bismarck, and Napoleon III.

Moreover, it is important to note that the key word, Realpolitik, predates 1870. Within international relations there is tendency use realism and Realpolitik interchangeably. However, as shown by the British historian John Bew in his conceptual history of Realpolitik, the present-day perception of the term is closer to the use of it in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century where realpolitik became associated with other German concepts such as Machtpolitik and Weltpolitik. Hence, a straight line between the original meaning of Realpolitik and realism cannot be drawn. Nonetheless, is a connection between the original meaning of the concept and what may be termed ‘liberal realism’ or ‘ethical realism’. According to the inventor of the concept, as we shall see below, Realpolitik was not anti-idealist. It was merely a political method for German liberals to achieve their political and nationalist aims. As such it was born in opposition to a traditionalist monarchism as incarnated by the regime of Metternich.Footnote 36

In that sense, it is somewhat paradoxical that the conservative Otto von Bismarck today is seen as its incarnation. Especially, as the Prussian statesman never used the term himself. The reason is found not only in the post-1871 writings of nationalist German historians such as Heinrich von Treitschke, but also in the fact that Realpolitik have become associated more with foreign policy than with domestic politics. Bismarck’s foreign policy and the three German wars of unification have become archetypical examples of it. However, these wars of unification must be understood on the background of a German fear of first Russian and later French supremacy and Pan-Slavism that caused those that embraced Realpolitik to deliberately break with Vienna system create the wake of the Napoleonic Wars.Footnote 37

The concept itself was framed by Ludwig August von Rochau. Born in 1810 during the Napoleonic Wars, Rochau belonged to the same generation as the political Scandinavianist. In 1853, the year the Crimean War broke out, he published the first volume of his Grundsätze der Realpolitik angewendet auf die staatlichen Zustände Deutschlands. Here the disillusioned national liberal journalist and politician declared that he was politically and morally ‘dead’. The disenchantment of the failed revolutions of 1848, however, had opened his eyes to how things really were. This gave birth his ideas of Realpolitik. According to John Bew, these rested on four interconnected assumptions.

  1. (1)

    The law of the strong is the determining factor in politics. Thus, sovereignty is not a natural right (for ‘the people’ or the king) but a reflection of power.

  2. (2)

    The most effective form of government is one that incorporates the most powerful social forces within the state, harnesses their energies, and achieves a balance among them. The more harmonious a state is internally, the great is its potential magnitude. [e.g., the rulers must incorporate the middle classes politically and move towards a more representative system of government].

  3. (3)

    Ideas matter in politics but the role they play has been widely misunderstood. The purity or coherence of an idea—its ‘inherent truth’—barely matters in politics. In fact, immoral or uncultured ideas are often more powerful than noble ideas. What matters is how many people holds an idea and how strongly they hold it.

  4. (4)

    Modernity has changed the nature of statecraft. Public opinion is ever more important, and the Zeitgeist is the single most important factor in determining the trajectory of a nation’s politics. In this rapidly transforming era, nationalism can provide a potential glue to reconcile those forces within the state that might otherwise go to war with each other.Footnote 38

These assumptions lay at the heart of the new policy that Rochau suggested should be used to unify Germany. According to him, liberals could only reach their goals if they did away with their ideological and moral restrains and embraced power politics. As he saw it, power was only legitimized by success, and in international politics power was solely wheeled by great powers. The latter was according to Rochau the basic and dynamic principle by with states were ordered. As noted by Hans-Ulrich Wehler, Rochau’s line of thinking was very much in tune with a Hegelian state idealism and social Darwinism. These tendencies became even more clearly expressed in the second edition published as the war between Piemont and Austria broke out in 1859. Here Rochau argued that a war against France should be used to unify Germany. The division of the German nation into numerous states made it weak and threated its survival. Therefore, ‘a superior force’ (e.g. Prussia) had to swallow the others to unify the nation hereby gather its resources.Footnote 39

In short, Rochau approach to politics was inseparable from his liberalism and German nationalism and very much in tune with threshold principle. Rochau was far from alone in this analysis. The prominent historian and politician Johann Gustav Droysen saw the ‘Lilliputianism’ of the German confederation as suicidal. ‘In political life, as in manufacturing, only large mass structures will come to anything … Alongside the world powers of England, Russia, North America and China (which is reforming itself), the southern European and the Germanic races must either crumble or join together as a mass.’Footnote 40

These lessons were as already noticed by the Polish-British historian Lewis Namier not particular to Germany. Across Europe Rochau’s generation reflected upon the failed revolution and drew strikingly similar conclusions. They realised that ‘nations are freed, united, or broken by blood and iron, and not by generous application of liberty and tomato-sauce: violence is the instrument of national movements’, as Namier put it.Footnote 41 As we shall return to in Scandinavia and Bismarck, many German, Italian and Scandinavian liberals sought an alliance with the crown to reach their goals of national unification in what E.H. Carr has called the ‘age of Realpolitik’.Footnote 42 In Germany, liberals courted the royal house of Prussia, in Italy that of Piemont, and in Scandinavia the Scandinavianist doubled down and forged an alliance between themselves and the house of Bernadotte. Hence, to national liberals’ Realpolitik was from the outset a means to a (pan)nationalist end. The same cannot be said for the conservatives. Some stock to the classic anti-nationalist stance that had dominated conservatism prior to 1848. Others either embraced nationalism, found it to be a useful political tool or found it necessary to adapt to the new ideology.

Even if neither Cavour nor Bismarck can be seen as diehard nationalists, they were key to the unification of Italy and Germany and even if they used nationalism as a political tool, they were not alien to its ideas. Moreover, even if their Realpolitik was not an intrinsic expression of nationalism, it became de facto an expression hereof as it resulted in the creation of two nation states and served as a source of inspiration for (pan-)nationalist movements such as Scandinavianism and Pan-Slavism. Hence as already argued above, Realpolitik was not always void of ideology. It was a tool invented and used to serve not only the state, but also national interest. In short, while their does not need to be logical link between Realpolitik and nationalism, the former was not only theoretical developed to realise the latter. It also played a crucial part in the practical realisation of the latter, even if the nationalist projects were realised primarily by conservatives and not by liberals in Germany and Italy.

To claim a historic link between Realpolitik and nationalism in the period between the failed revolutions of 1848 and the unification of Germany in 1871 is not novel, as it was already apparent in the writings of Rochau. Moreover, even if the link between ‘realism’ and Realpolitik is debated, ‘realists’ in general see the two as interlinked and most students of historiography does the same. However, to the best of our knowledge few, if any, have made a direct link between ‘realism’ and nationalism in the post-1848 period. We assume neither that there is a logical link between realism and nationalism, that all cases of nationalism are expressions of a ‘realist’ approach to international relations, nor that realism itself entails nationalism. Our hypothesis is that ‘threshold principle’ can be seen as the core of a ‘realist theory of nationalism’.

By this we mean that the ‘threshold principle’, as defined by Eric Hobsbawm, implied a ‘realist’ view of international relations. The core of the doctrine was that only nations with sufficient resources could survive, develop, and have any real independence in an anarchic world. This made fear and the pursuit of power prime drives not only in international politics, but also for a certain type of political nationalism that was prominent in mid-nineteenth century Europe. Hence, neither the threshold principle nor the idea of it as realist theory of nationalism should be seen as making any universal claims about nationalism. It should purely be seen as one of many categories or typologies of nationalism.

Even if it may have been most influential during the mid-nineteenth century as indicated by Hobsbawm, the principle can certainly be seen in later periods. The borders drawn in Europe in the aftermath of the First World War were certainly not an application of the nationalist principle in its pure form. In many cases the ‘threshold principle’ seems to be key to the creations and the borders of the new nation states, Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia been the prime examples. However, the two ‘nation states’ were not only examples of the threshold principle in praxis. Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia were also examples of how medium size buffer states in some cases were created to serve the security interest of one or more great powers in the wake of a major upheaval. By looking more careful at this phenomenon, we can explain why pan-nationalist projects were possible at some points in history and impossible at other points.

Then, is there such a thing as ‘a realist theory of nationalism’? Not yet. However, it can and should be developed. If it happens, it will be as an analytical concept. To the best of our knowledge, nobody in the nineteenth century spoke of ‘realist nationalism’, hence a conceptual history of the use of the concept in the past is not possible. However, the same is true of the threshold principle, to which such a theory would be closely related. In short, just because a concept did not exist in the past, it does not follow that it cannot be applied as an analytical category to better understand the past (which seems to be a common misconception amongst some historians). Something that the threshold principle is an excellent example of. The same can be said of realism within international relations. Even if the theory was not formally developed and termed until after the Second World War, its core doctrinal ideas were already very much present in the nineteenth century, as they are found within contemporary political concepts such as Realpolitik and Social Darwinism and a more general hierarchism that has been noted by Dutch historian Samuël Kruizinga.Footnote 43 The development of a realist theory of nationalism, as one type of nationalism, may help us better understand some aspects of nationalism. It may help us understand the relationship between nationalism and imperialism and make better sense of international history and international relations, including the creation of so-called buffer states.

Creating Allies

Let us end this book by returning to its beginning. The vision for a united Scandinavia that Duke Frederick Christian of Augustenburg had in the summer of 1807 never came to be. Nonetheless, it should be taken seriously as a future past. Napoleon’s campaigns meant that the map of Europe change at a pace never seen before and perhaps never since. As a rule, small states disappeared. Some medium size states did the same, while others either were expanded or created as either buffer states or as useful French allies.

The idea of creating allies was not particular to Napoleon, France, or the Napoleonic Wars. As already noted, the kingdom of the Netherlands and Romania are good nineteenth century examples of this. The former was created as buffer state after the Napoleonic Wars and useful medium size ally to Great Britain. Strong fortresses were not only built on the border to France to prevent or slow down a French invasion, but also to serve as a staging area on the Continent for a British army.Footnote 44

The same line of thinking was prominent at the Congress of Berlin in 1878. As part of the outcome of the Russo-Turkish War, Romania, Serbia, and Montenegro were recognised as ‘independent’ state. Bulgaria de facto became independent, even if it only formally became recognised as such in 1908. However, the creation of these new states should not only be seen as an assertion of the nationalist principle, but also from the perspective of great power interest. Romania was created as a buffer state by uniting Wallachia and Moldavia. For its efforts, Russia was given Bessarabia (present-day Moldova) by the newly created kingdom of Romania. The creation of an independent Serbia can also be interpreted from a geopolitical perspective. Seen from Paris and St. Petersburg, the new Serbian state served as a buffer against the Habsburgs in South Eastern Europe. In the same manner, Bulgaria was seen as a Russian client state. The same pattern was partly repeated during the First and Second Balkan Wars (1912–1913) where the interest of the great powers also played a vital role for the outcome. Albania was created very much against the will of the warring parties, as neither Austria-Hungary nor Italy could accept that Serbia gained a coastline. On the other hand, the borders of the new Albanian state were not congruent with that of the Albanian ‘nation’ as many Albanians came under Serbian, Greek, and Montenegrin rule. This was not particular to the Albanians, but true of many of the inhabitants of the Ottoman province of Macedonia that was divided by the members of the Balkan league, Serbia, Greece, Montenegro, and Bulgaria.Footnote 45

As noted by the sociologist Sabrina P. Ramet, the peace treaties after the Russo-Turkish War, the Balkan Wars, and the First World War:

… were all guided by certain understandings or misunderstandings of Realpolitik. In each of these cases, the great powers sought to reward their friends and restrict, deny or punish their rivals and foes and the clients of their rivals and foes. […] Again, in each of the cases, there was a tendency […] to ignore the wishes of local populations in redrawing or sanctioning new boundaries.Footnote 46

What made the Napoleonic Wars stand out is the fact that the map of Europe was remoulded time and again to suit French interest and the personal inclinations of French emperor. The Continent was in flux. The Holy Roman Empire had vanished after a thousand years and territories in Germany had as those of Italy undergone a major reshuffle resulting into fewer but larger states. Hence, the duke had good grounds when he speculated in that these unprecedented changes would sooner rather than later affect Scandinavia and result in a unification of the Nordic countries under the Danish crown prince regent (the later Frederick VI). From a strategic vantage point, a united Scandinavia could serve not only as a buffer state, but also as a useful and reliable French ally in the Northern that could help keep Russia in check.

Change came as expected and it transformed Scandinavia. The duke rightly foresaw that a revolution in Sweden for a moment would open a window of opportunity for its unification with Denmark and Norway. However, as mentioned above, the opportunity was squandered by the inflexibility of King Frederick, the death of Charles August, the infighting between the houses of Oldenburg and Augustenburg, and perhaps above all by Napoleon’s reluctance to endorse any of the Danish-Norwegian candidates. While the emperor’s reluctance closed a window of opportunity for the unification of Scandinavia, it opened a window for the candidacy of Jean-Baptist Bernadotte and a very unexpected outcome of events.

In 1814 this led to the realisation of a two-state Scandinavianism when Sweden and Norway were unified through war. If Charles August had not died, it could potentially have led either to a three-state Scandinavianism (Sweden, Norway, and Denmark) or even to a four-state Scandinavianism (Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Finland). The former would have been markedly different that the one that was pursued a generation later as it would not have been anti-German. Such as state would not only have included the Danish duchy of Schleswig, but also the German duchy of Holstein. The latter would have come about if a united Scandinavia had joined Napoleon’s campaign against Russia in 1812 to reconquer Finland that had been lost by Sweden only three years prior. Keeping Charles August outspoken anti-Russia views and fear of Russian expansion on the Scandinavian peninsular in mind, such a counterfactual scenario was more than likely if he had lived. A Scandinavian attack on Finland in 1812 would have posed a threat to St. Petersburg, which would have forced the Russians to split their forces. This in turn opens for a multitude of counterfactual scenarios and outcomes with ramifications way beyond Scandinavia.

In its own peculiar way these episodes from the Napoleonic Wars underline both the importance of agency, chance events and structural conditions. In his exile on St Helena, the former French emperor had plenty of time to contemplate the matter and concluded that he had made a grave mistake. According to Emanuel Las Cases, Napoleon remarked that:

I attached, however, too much value to the idea of seeing the throne of Sweden in possession of a Frenchman. It was, in my situation, a puerile sentiment. The real King, according to my political system and the true interests of France, would have been the King of Denmark, because I should then have governed Sweden by the influence of my simple contact with the Danish provinces.Footnote 47

Naturally, the statement must be read with Napoleon’s hindsight in mind. At St. Helena, Napoleon knew how events had unfolded after 1810. However, the ex-emperor did not only criticise his own inability to foresee the actions of Bernadotte as crown prince of Sweden, but also his failure to appreciate ‘the true interests of France’. Moreover, the quote points to something central. A united Scandinavia would not only have been a useful French ally. It would have been an ally that could have been controlled. The quote points to the fact that Napoleon in exile realized a spectacular strategic mistake on his part.

On one hand, Sweden’s economy depended on being able to trade with Great Britain and the country was under a permanent military threat from Russia, especially after it ceded Finland to Russia in 1809. On the other hand, Sweden had no common border with the French Empire, and it was protected from a French invasion by the Baltic and the Oresund. Napoleon could try to utilize Swedish revanchism towards Russia with promises of regaining Finland. Moreover, he could threaten Sweden with a reoccupation of Swedish Pomerania. He did both in his efforts to make Sweden adhere to his political system, but unlike Russia, Napoleon was unable to put real military or economic pressure on Sweden proper.

The situation was reversed if we look at the Danish-Norwegian state. The trade in the duchies was tied into that of the continent. The same was partly true for Denmark proper. Moreover, there was a common border between duchies and the French Empire. France could easily occupy both the duchies and Jutland and threaten Funen and Zealand. Moreover, if the former were occupied, then France could cut off the vital grain supplies to Norway. In short, geography explains why Denmark was a not only a useful, but also a reliable French ally. Likewise, if Napoleon had insisted on Frederick VI as crown prince of Sweden, then he could—as he realised only to late—have controlled a united Scandinavia by putting pressure on Denmark. Napoleon’s blunder can be excused by the fact that the Corsican was unfamiliar with the geography, economy, and the politics of the Nordic countries. But there is no getting around that the emperor severely misjudged Bernadotte. Once installed in Stockholm, the latter was not willing to act as French puppet and France could not force him into compliance. Hence, Napoleon’s miscalculation was not only one of geography, but also one of the character and ambitions of Bernadotte. This underlines the importance of agency along with that of geography.

Whereas these realisations only came to the emperor at a point where the window of opportunity was long gone, these came to several of the European statesmen that succeeded him in advance. His own nephew, Napoleon III, was keenly interested in the creation of a united Scandinavia, as we shall see in the sequel to this book. Uniting the Nordic countries would not only serve the new emperor’s vision of a Europe of nation states in accordance with the threshold principle, but also French interests. A united Scandinavia would be a useful French ally in North with a Royal house with roots in France. Just as some Scandinavianist argued, a Scandinavia state would not only be a good medium seize buffer state. It would be inclined to ally itself to the western powers. Except for a few Danish conservatives and the house of Glücksburg, most Scandinavians were thoroughly anti-Russian and most of the political active part of the populations were by European standards either politically liberal or radical. Consequently, they feared Russian interference with Scandinavian politics. Moreover, there were especially those in Sweden who still speculated in regaining Finland. The November Treaty of 1855 between France, Great Britain, and Sweden-Norway is a good example of this line of thinking. It could have resulted in all of Scandinavia joining the Crimean War in an effort to unite Scandinavia, solve the Schleswig question, regaining Finland and creating an alliance between Scandinavia and the western powers.

The emperor’s nephew was not alone in this thinking. Piemont and later Italy was also interested in a united Scandinavia. Italian royals, politicians, and nationalist including Cavour and Victor Emmanuel saw in Scandinavianism not only a parallel to their own unification efforts, but also a useful ally in the Northern. The Schleswig question pitted the Scandinavian countries against the German Confederation, including Austria that still possessed Venice and other areas that according to Italian irredentism belonged to the newly unified nation state. Until the Danish defeat in 1864, many Italian politicians believed that an Italian-Scandinavian alliance could serve both parties. Especially if they were supported by France.

Most importantly, there was the Prussian statesman who were to succeed in unifying Germany. While Bismarck as mentioned did not coin the concept of Realpolitik, his foreign policy is often seen as its incarnation. This was brutally expressed in his view on Polish independence. ‘Restoring the Kingdom of Poland, in any shape or form, is tantamount to creating an ally for any enemy that chooses to attack us’, therefore Prussia ought to ‘smash those Poles till, losing all hope, they lie down and die; I have every sympathy for their situation, but if we wish to survive, we have no choice but to wipe them out’.Footnote 48 In our context, the important part of the quote is not Bismarck’s view of Polish independence, but his awareness of an useful ally could be created by altering the status of a nation or a state.

A restored Polish state could—like the duchy of Warsaw during the Napoleonic War—for example serve French interests. However, it would be strange if Bismarck only thought along the lines of medium size states on the board of Prussia as potential tools in the hands of its enemies. As we shall see in Scandinavia and Bismarck, he did not limit himself to a defensive thinking. In line with an ‘offensive realism’, he not only sought to prevent the creation of the states that could be used by other great powers against Prussia, but also in creating a medium size allied state that could be used to serve Prussian interest in the shape of a united Scandinavia. As we will show in the sequel to this book, Bismarck’s policy towards Scandinavia had clear similarities with cases of creating medium sizes allied states that we have already discussed.

Creating a united Scandinavia would serve several Prussian purposes. Firstly, it could presumably have solved the Danish-German conflict over Schleswig for good. Secondly, a Scandinavian solution to the Schleswig question would result in the demise of the Danish Unitary state. This would make it easier for Prussia to annex Holstein, Lauenburg, and the parts of Schleswig that where needed to build a channel from Kiel to the North Sea. Thirdly, unlike the Poles, the Scandinavians were neither Slavs nor Catholics. They were Protestant and Germanic. Pan-Germanic thoughts were neither alien to Scandinavianists, German nationalists nor their rulers and statesmen (including Bismarck). In general, Scandinavians were anti-Russian and like many Germans they feared Pan-Slavism. Consequently, many Scandinavians and Germans found an alliance between Scandinavia and Germany against Russia and Pan-Slavism as both natural and necessary. Finally, Bismarck appreciated in advance what Napoleon only came to realise on St. Helena. A united Scandinavia could to a degree be controlled by a great power that possessed Northern Germany. Not even a united Scandinavia would be able to defend Jutland against an enlarged Prussia or a united Germany and when in time a German navy was built the same would be the case for the Danish islands. That was the reason why not only a Bismarck, but numerous Prussian prince and politicians took the possibility of uniting Scandinavia seriously. They saw it not only as possible, but also as convenient to their political ends.

This train of though was, however, not peculiar to the Prussians in Germany. The Napoleonic Wars had not resulted in the unification of Scandinavia, but in the dissolution of the Danish-Norwegian union and the creation of a Norwegian nation state in union with Sweden. Moreover, it had caused a permanent split between the house of Oldenburg and Glücksburg that sowed some of the seeds that in time would lead to the destruction of the Danish unitary state. However, Duke Christian August of Augustenburg not only inherited a dynastic programme, but also the idea of a Scandinavian union from his father and his namesake and uncle. As we shall see in the sequel to the present study, Christian August’s Scandinavianism survived the First Schleswig War as the duke pursued a Scandinavian solution to the Schleswig question in the 1850s and 1860s. So did some of the Middle German States, Hanover chief among them. In all cases, the Scandinavianist ideas that were nurtured in Germany were combined with future visions of a natural alliance between Germany and Scandinavia against Russia and the Slavs.

Even if the different Scandinavianists groups in Denmark, Sweden and Norway and the royals of the house of Bernadotte were not always in agreement on which alliance and what possibilities should be pursued they were keenly aware of them. In short, Scandinavianism and Scandinavian polities of the period can only be understood in the light of European high politics. Even if the reverse cannot be said to true of Scandinavian politics and Scandinavianism, European high politics were periodically affected by them, especially through the question of Schleswig. This leads us to the difference between Napoleonic Wars and the Restoration on hand and the period following the European revolutions of 1848 and the First Schleswig War on the other.

The thoughts that Napoleon I expressed on St. Helena followed a classic dynastic and geopolitical thinking. In that sense they would have instantly recognizable to the statesmen of the eighteenth century and to those of the Restoration. Moreover, as argued above, they did have similarities to those of Napoleon III, Bismarck, and Cavour, but there was also a difference. Post-1848 the classic dynasticism and geopolitics within high politics merged with nationalism and realpolitik. After Russia’s defeat in the Crimean War, the alliance between classical dynastic power politics and nationalism caused a great European upheaval and the creation of several new nation states in accordance with the threshold principle. One of which could well have been Scandinavia. A theme that we will explore further in the sequel to the present book: Scandinavia and Bismarck, 1851–1871: The Zenith of Scandinavianism.