Italy’s postwar settlement is rapidly proving itself inadequate to the task of managing peninsular society. Of course, it was never meant to do that in the first place – Italy was just supposed to stay disunited and weak, but not so weak that Italian nationalism was aroused. But the Great Powers had failed to give Italy the ability to manage its own currency on a unified basis, so each individual Italian state had issued different sorts of lire with disastrous results throughout the 1920s. Eventually, a general conference on Italian affairs in 1926 had permitted the Pope to establish an Italian currency union and an economic management council, but this was probably too little, too late. Lombardy and Venetia saw their industry ruined and bought out by foreigners, who continued to extend their tendrils of control over Italy. Or so, anyway, the hysterical pronouncements of Italian nationalists went. These nationalists continued to grow in number during the late 1920s, although they were quite disparate –
Arditi, like Italo Balbo, operating on the right wing with Weygandist principles, vied with bog-standard Socialists of various stripes, sometimes supported by the Commune. Parties connected to the
Arditi did well in territorial elections in the north in the late 1920s, partially through a violent PPF-style campaign of intimidation, posing a serious threat to the
Popolari consensus. The Pope himself (Pius XI, a notoriously authoritarian pontiff who converted Lazio into a sort of Catholic police state) began casting about for allies, securing one in Austria. France and Austria have been carefully sidestepping the Italian Question ever since, although the machinations of the Iberians and the uncontrollable
Arditi may force their hand.
Franz Ferdinand has finally begun to realize that the nationality question cannot remain ‘on ice’ forever, as votes of confidence based on language issues have submarined three of the last four Austrian parliamentary governments. Parliamentarism had had initial benefits, like the reduction of unrest over ethnic questions, increased Austrian ability to engage in domestic borrowing (which helped the disastrous exchequer), and the marginalization of socialist agitation. All three advantages are now gone and worse; the Reichsrat has shown itself incapable of managing Austria out of the economic slump and rapidly has become preoccupied with imperial linguistic questions, while even in loyal Bohemia, strikes have reached nearly prewar levels. If the imperial government were further reformed, to try to eliminate the nationality question once and for all, perhaps it would begin to function properly – or perhaps authoritarianism is what the Habsburg Empire needs. Austria’s Great Power status is at stake until the question is resolved. German or Russian support could be key to averting or winning a fresh civil war, but that would require a solution to Austria’s diplomatic dilemma, and Franz Ferdinand is no nearer to that than he was before Nikolai II died.
Tsarist Russia’s politically aware classes are collectively on tenterhooks in preparation for the tsar’s first political moves. Loosely, it seems, Mikhail II has two real policy options; bound up as foreign policy is in domestic imperatives, the two roughly correspond to a pro-German and pro-French stance, respectively. The former, supported by Pavel Milyukov and the rest of Russia’s liberals, capitalists, and a significant minority of the army, is constitutional monarchy, the establishment of a
duma, and the resumption of the old Three Emperors’ League. The latter, represented by Vladimir Purishkevich and the Black Hundreds, is autocracy – whether it pursues withdrawal or active support of France is irrelevant, for either condition will work in Weygand’s favor. Either way, Russia’s policy will be supported by one of the strongest militaries in Russian history, but that military will have feet of clay, backed by depressingly weak heavy industry and agriculture and fueled by railways that, outside the excellent new German lines on the Siberian route, are aging badly and need refurbishment. German or French capital might improve Russia’s situation, or the tsar could try to convert raw manpower into industrial power, but for now, Russia’s economy, while still growing at a slow clip, is inadequate to support the rest of the country, much less a country at war. At the same time, the nationality question is beginning to rear its ugly head, with Ukrainians and Poles, in particular, inciting riots in increasing frequency over the past two years. A constitutional monarchy might dissipate the nationality question by a broad enough franchise – or, as it has in Austria, it might simply make things more acrimonious.
As usual, the Balkans are something of an armed camp. Georgios II’s Greek autocracy and Ahmed Bey Zogu’s Albanian dictatorship, both backed by Germany, have both shown a desire to overturn the Potsdam settlement in the region. The Greeks in particular are bedeviled by something of an overpopulation problem that they want to alleviate by a war in the north – which would provide an excuse to massacre troublesome Slavs in the country on the one hand, and an opportunity to resettle Greeks on conquered territory on the other. Bulgaria, for its part, remains interested in acquiring a large Aegean port (Thessaloniki would do nicely), as none of the ones in Bulgarian Thrace can quite manage the throughput that the Bulgarians would prefer, while the limitations of the naval bases in the south prevent the Bulgarians from matching the rebuilt Greek Navy. Up to 1929, the Bulgarians were also driven toward a Balkan war by the fanatics of the IMRO, but tsar Boris III initiated a timely purge and managed to drive the movement underground. Up to now, Boris has managed to keep a lid on pressure for an expansionist war, but the Radicals are weakening, and the threat of a military coup or an agrarian socialist uprising has only increased since the victory over the IMRO. And finally, Romania has remained quiet and on the sidelines. Under loose Russian tutelage the Romanian army has been rebuilt and somewhat modernized, although the Austrians wage a constant twilight struggle for control (and, in 1930, scored a major coup by forcing the Romanian government to provide much of the oil discovered at Ploiesti). While remaining formally uncommitted in any Balkan struggle in the foreseeable future, Romania’s military remains a dagger pointed at Bulgaria’s back – wielded by the gloved hand of Russia.
Turkey has benefited somewhat from the years of peace, quiet, and stability that it had lacked in the years leading up to the Eurasian War. As mentioned, Mustafa Kemal embarked on a series of reforms that, he claimed, began to bring the Republic into the modern world. Yet, to an extent, the same problems that had plagued the Ottoman Empire continued to plague Kemalist Turkey. Germany retained the capitulations, and assumed control of Turkish finances, seriously curtailing any efforts at industrialization. After the Republic almost went bankrupt in 1927 (bailed out by an Anglo-German consortium), many of the state monopolies that the Turkish government enjoyed – most notably the licensing rights over tobacco – were assumed by the Germans, fueling some discontent. Germany – and to a lesser extent Britain – continued to control banking in Turkey as well. But German support is critical for regaining Thrace, which became the Turkish
cause célèbre of the late 1920s and early 1930s after the 1926 Adrianople crisis. In addition, the Kaiser remains a popular man in the Middle East in general, and, now, in Nationalist Turkey in particular. Like the Greeks, the Turks have mortgaged their short-term future to Germany in expectation of territory. It remains to be seen if that course will be a profitable one.
The Najdi monarchy of Sultan ‘Abd al-Aziz bin Saud is in serious trouble. Ibn Saud had employed Ikhwanid fanatics as military shock troops in the war against the Rashidis of the Jabal Shammar, which permitted him to unite the peninsula but for Britain’s protectorates along the coast, but after that war, the monster he had created began to turn on him. Realistically, Ibn Saud had no prospect of further expansion, as all his neighbors were British protectorates, but the Ikhwan demanded invasions and began to raid widely, interfering in the recent Syrian and Palestinian revolts and arousing the ire of the British and French. Saudi Najd may be caught in a cleft stick if Ibn Saud is unable to rein in the Ikhwan.
Where Ibn Saud lacks opportunities, Rezā Khan – effective presidential dictator of the Iranian Republic – has them in spades, or at least seems to. In 1919, Iran had been weak, beset by outright separatism the north, while central government was threatened by the autonomous power of the Bakhtiyaris of Luristan (who had not been completely crushed, and who retained control of many of Iran’s oil fields, making them a useful ally for the British) and the Qashqa’is of Fars. Rezā Khan’s first goal had been to build up an army, and he did this quite effectively with the remnants of the forces he used in the Eurasian War; he used it to crush the separatists and, by 1926, the great tribal confederations of the south as well. But fundamentally, he changed little about the Iranian state, gaining the confidence of the landowning notables (indeed, he even joined their ranks) and employing them successfully against clerical interests, which disapproved of a republic (equating it with atheism). He tried to implement language and behavioral reforms as had Mustafa Kemal, but in this he was stymied by his own alliance with the landlords – outside of the spelling and language reforms, few of his social proposals were implemented outside Iran’s cities. But Iran successfully adopted the Latin script over the angry disapproval of the Shi’a religious leaders, implemented a new civil code – partially based on the Code Napoleon – and amalgamated it with
shari’a, and created the first effective secular education program (for both adults and children) in Iranian history. Much of these reforms were fueled by oil (ha!) profits. Iran sold to Germany, France, and Britain – mostly the former two – and made bank off the lot of them. Exploratory drilling in the 1920s added even more prospective wealth to the already-considerable oil reserves already known. So on the surface, Iran would appear to be set: increasingly economically powerful, commanding vast oil reserves critical to modern industry, and a rapidly growing military loyal to the President. But ultimately, as the British and Russians go, so too goes Iran.
Qing China may be in a period of transition. Most attention is focused on the incipient battle between Wu Peifu and the members of the prorogued legislature. In addition, while the Xi’an Incident failed and its leader, Xu Shuzheng, was executed, there have been rumbles of discontent in the army – much of which remains undecided in its loyalties. And in the background – as if the deified ruler of an ancient monarchy can be in the background of anything – the Xuantong Emperor has begun to flex his muscles and his control over appointments. Perhaps he intends to unseat Wu, rid himself of the fractious landowners and industrialists of the legislature, some combination of the two – or merely to reassert his rightful authority as Son of Heaven. Yet this whole crisis seems increasingly irrelevant on the ground in the Qing Empire. Without land reform, much of the peasantry is getting increasingly violent, as are many of the workers in the German-financed factories. The banned Guomindang is becoming increasingly popular, with its message of national resurrection and revanche, an end to foreign oppression, and a Second Revolution – a social revolution – to accompany the first. And all of this domestic turmoil is occurring against a backdrop of flux in foreign affairs; if Germany and Russia do come to an open break, the Qing will have to determine where their allegiances lie, while Japan may be beginning to flex its muscles and the hated Republicans to the south only grow stronger.
Those hated Republicans, under the leadership of Song Qingling, appear quite strong indeed. Sun Liren and Deng Yanda have, with the aid of freelance (in some cases, “freelance”
Americans, Japanese, British, and even Austrians, molded the Army of National Revolution into an effective modern fighting force that is, more or less, successfully bound up with Guomindang ideology. Industrial expansion, fueled in part by Japanese and American financial support and managed by Paul Song and Kong Xiangxi, has helped to vastly expand the southern Chinese economy, especially the great Hanyeping coal and iron works in the Wuhan tri-city area. At the same time, land reforms have helped to alleviate much of the countryside tensions that bedevil the Qing. Of course, it is hardly as though all is well. While Song Qingling herself retains immense popularity, the Assembly is another matter – the Guomindang dominate that, too, but are riven in their turn by factionalism – the various pressures and potential areas of interest will be a key focus of the 1932 party congress. Land reforms have not been fully implemented across the country, and Jiangxi in particular remains a total backwater. Comunistas have failed to gain traction among either peasantry or urban proletariat, but in their place the great organized crime syndicates of coastal China have reared their ugly head; in particular, Du Yuesheng’s Green Gang has an iron grip on Shanghai. And there are the usual dilemmas of foreign policy to be resolved: the standard equations of Far Eastern relations are sure to be gaining new variables as Japan’s political system remains in flux, Russia and Germany continue to sort out their mutual relations, and the Americans begin to stir from their isolationism.
Japan faces the old dilemma of a constitutional monarchy under siege. The Shōwa Emperor is, if anything, an English gentleman from his constitutional sympathies to his inability to play a good game of golf. But his liberal disposition, accentuated by a rather intense fear of sticking his neck out gained from the 1923 Kanto earthquake, have made it nigh impossible for him to assert his authority against the nationalist societies that run rampant. Indeed, key figures of the
Minseitō, such as the constitutional scholar Tatsukichi Minobe, have made it inescapably clear to the Emperor that interference, even in their favor, would set such a dangerous precedent that it would be best not to do it at all. Even if he were to try to use his power to force the various nationalist and militarist societies to back down, it is not certain that they would even listen to him – and then his prestige would be ruined beyond repair. So the
Kokuryūkai and societies like it, like the somewhat smaller
Seikyōsha, continue to gain influence in the army and navy despite the failure of their 1931 coup. Even the Minister of War, General Sadao Araki (unofficial leader of the highly unofficial and possibly nonexistent
Kōdōha, a faction in the military allegedly devoted to authoritarianism, militarism, and expansionism), has openly sympathized with Ikki Kita, one of the main figures of the militaristic nationalist movement. It seems clear that elements of the military will soon mount a challenge to the civilian government over the issue of
iaku jōsō, the Prussian-like right of military commanders to have direct access and consultation with the Emperor – effectively a challenge to civilian claims of authority over the military. It is not clear whether the Hamaguchi government is capable of meeting such a challenge.
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OOC: And that's all she wrote. I'll put out a map eventually once I figure out what kind of projection and style I want to use for it. The usual - questions, comments, usw. welcomed, nay, demanded.
