The lamps are going out all over Europe. We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime’ – Sir Edward Grey, British Foreign Secretary, 3 August 1914
Just a few days ago, I stood in the study of Austro-Hungarian Emperor Franz Josef, in his summer villa in Bad Ischl, Austria, looking at the very desk where he signed the declaration of war on Serbia on 28 July 1914, just over 100 years ago. For an Emperor, it was quite a simple room – still furnished with the rather worn-out sofa where he would have a rest after lunch, and next to the spartan bedroom where his single bed, basin and prayer-stool also still stand.
I have to say I found it very moving to see this place where the elderly Emperor had made such a fateful decision – a decision which would lead, within just a few days, to all the major powers of Europe declaring war on each other, igniting the unexpected, but swiftly terrible, bloody and inexorable conflagration of World War 1.
We can only estimate the number who died over the next four years – it was one of the deadliest conflicts in history. Some suggest that at least 8-10m soldiers died from some 30 different countries, from disease as well as combat. Between 700,000-900,000 British soldiers died. In Western Europe our images of war tend to focus on muddy trenches, barbed wire and young soldiers cut down by machine gun fire. But there were also at least 6m – some say as many as 12m – civilian deaths across Europe, from military action, massacre, malnutrition and disease, including of course at least 1- 1.5m Armenians of the Ottoman Empire. 1915 is a year seared into the history and consciousness of every Armenian.
In those late summer days of July and August 1914, with talk of honour and revenge, death and glory, how many of our leaders realized what terrible forces they were unleashing? British newspaper editorials assumed that the whole thing would be over by Christmas. Sir Edward Grey, British Foreign Secretary, who I quote above, was one of those who did perhaps understand that the world he knew was about to change for ever. The ‘lamps’ – of civilization, of humanity, of culture – were about to be extinguished and, for a while at least, crushed underfoot.
In Britain we will commemorate 4 August, the day we entered the war, by turning out the lights (#LightsOut) and lighting a single candle or lamp between 10 and 11pm. We will also light a candle here at the Embassy in Yerevan. In homes, offices and public buildings across Britain people will join the vigil to think deeply about the suffering and sacrifice of our great grandfathers’ and great grandmothers’ generation.
But we should also remember our generation’s task. It is Europe’s supreme achievement over the past 70 years, following two cataclysmic world wars, that we have managed to relight those lamps of civilization and humanity. We have found an extraordinarily successful way to live together, no longer as empires and subject peoples, but as normal, independent sovereign states, with a common interest in promoting our joint prosperity and security. The sight of the Presidents of France and Germany embracing yesterday at a commemorative service underlined again how far we have come.
But standing in Franz Josef’s study, I was reminded that civilized, rational people can still find themselves taking decisions which can have catastrophic, unforeseen consequences. The ‘dogs of war’ can be unleashed with extraordinary speed. Our most important task remains to guard against this.