On May 7, 1919, the German delegate Blücher, representing a defeated yet unyielding Germany, arrived in Paris.
A solemn ceremony for the delivery of the peace treaty was held at the Palace of Versailles that day.
The German delegation maintained a respectful demeanor.
Clemenceau rose to deliver his opening address, while Blücher, seated, recited the following speech: “The military collapse of Germany and the extent of its defeat are already evident.
However, this European war does not rest solely on Germany’s shoulders; all of Europe bears responsibility.
For fifty years, the imperialist ambitions of European nations have poisoned the international order.
While Germany’s wartime atrocities cannot be denied—committed under the sway of emotion rather than reason—they must be acknowledged.
Yet since November 11 of last year, many Germans who were no longer engaged in combat have perished due to the effects of the blockade, a fact to which the Allied powers have shown little concern.
President Wilson’s Fourteen Points enjoyed worldwide support, and the Allies had declared they would base the peace treaty upon them.
Therefore, Germany should not be left entirely to face starvation.
The League of Nations ought to include all nations; Germany must not be excluded.
Germany is prepared to approach the treaty in a spirit of goodwill.”
The treaty, bound in grayish-yellow cloth, was presented by the conference’s secretary-general, Dumas, directly into Blücher’s hands.
Upon returning to his lodgings, Blücher remained silent throughout dinner.
Even as translators worked through the night to complete their task by 3:00 a.m., delivering the finished document to his room, Blücher did not speak until dawn, when he finally reviewed it.
Copies of the deeply painful German ratification documents—numbering eighty-three—were dispatched to Berlin.
In August, a lengthy cabinet meeting convened.
Chancellor Stresemann addressed the Treaty Committee, stating: “The terms of this treaty are, in essence, a death sentence for Germany.
Our government must deliberate with political composure upon this odious and presumptuous document…” He then telegraphed the treaty terms to each state government, requesting their opinions.
To express the profound grief felt across the nation, public amusements were suspended for one week, with theaters permitted only to stage tragedies of equal intensity to the day’s sorrow.
The stock exchange, overwhelmed by the somber mood, closed for three days.
Prominent figures, upon hearing of the impending signing, erupted in anger, debating the dire consequences of refusing to sign; none could envision accepting the conditions.
Berlin’s newspapers unanimously condemned the treaty, some declaring, “Its harshness surpasses even our most pessimistic expectations.
It is an act of brutal ignorance.
If it cannot be amended, we must reject it outright.”
Others asserted, “To sign this treaty would be to surrender to force.
We must resolutely refuse.”
Only the Independent Social Democratic Party’s official organ advocated acceptance, arguing, “Experience has shown that refusal only exacerbates the difficulties.”
Of particular note was the stance of Germany’s political parties.
The majority of the Social Democrats opposed signing, as did the People’s Party and the Center Party.
Only the Independent Social Democrats differed.
On November 11, the Independent Social Democrats passed a resolution endorsing the treaty, asserting, “The current German government’s renewed militarism has only strengthened others’ suspicions regarding Germany.
Germany has been compelled to sign under duress and has no alternative.
Both the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk and the Treaty of Riga proved short-lived and were eventually annulled.
The Treaty of Versailles likewise contains no provision barring its revocation through revolutionary means.
Should Germany seek to evade this treaty, it would have no choice but to follow Russia and Hungary down the path of social revolution.
This is precisely what the Allies fear most.
Were Russia or Hungary to send no representatives to negotiations, openly defying the Allies, and if last winter’s broad-based socialist revolution in Germany had succeeded—if Germany had aligned itself with Russia in the East and Austria in the South, joining forces with Hungary and Czechoslovakia to propagate a global revolutionary movement—might not long-suppressed socialist movements in Britain, France, and the United States rise up in response?
Could the Allied governments then survive?”
The Independent Social Democrats and the broader Socialist Party had once been a single entity; thus, their differing positions were hardly surprising.
The notion of overturning the treaty through revolution should not be dismissed lightly.
That same day, the German parliament debated the peace terms.
Stresemann proclaimed, “Today, the very survival of Germany hangs in the balance!
Our sole duty is to ensure the nation’s continued existence.
Germany harbors no imperial ambitions nor any desire for dominance.
Yet it feels as though a hand now constricts the throats of every German citizen!
The dignity of humanity rests in your hands—preserve it!”
On the 14th, Blücher sent a letter to Clemenceau, outlining the following key points: “The treaty’s territorial clauses strip Germany of vitally important agricultural land.
Grain and potato yields will decline by eleven percent, coal production by one-third, iron ore by three-quarters, and zinc by three-fifths.
Having already lost its colonies and merchant fleet, Germany’s economy is severely crippled.
Now, deprived of essential raw materials, it faces utter ruin.
At the same time, food imports will plummet dramatically.
Millions whose livelihoods depend on shipping and trade will find themselves unable to secure work or sustenance, forcing them to seek refuge abroad—a prospect barred by many nations.
Thus, signing this treaty amounts to sentencing millions of Germans to death.”
Beyond this missive, Blücher also addressed Clemenceau in two additional letters.
The first protested the occupation of German territory, contending that it violated President Wilson’s principles.
The second protested the reparations clause, stating, “Germany is willing to pay reparations, but not because it bears sole responsibility for the war.”
Blücher emphasized that Germany’s objections extended beyond mere liability for the conflict: “First, we object to the loss of territories rich in resources.
Other grievances, while significant, are secondary.”
On the evening of the 13th, a massive demonstration swept through Berlin.
Many speakers from various social groups took to the podium, declaring, “These treaty terms are more cruel and humiliating than those imposed by Rome upon Judea!”
The crowd marched through the streets, converging before the Hotel Astoria, where the Allied commission was headquartered.
One agitated speaker urged the crowd to storm the hotel, only to be restrained by police.
Before the Chancellor’s residence, Stresemann appeared at his window to address the throng.
Meanwhile, another large group gathered at dusk near the Astoria, singing and shouting, “Overthrow this oppressive settlement!
Down with Clemenceau!
Down with Britain!”
They proceeded to urge Stresemann to speak, prompting him to reference President Wilson’s Fourteen Points, whereupon the crowd erupted in cries of “Down with Wilson!”
On that day, independent Social Democratic meetings were held in forty locations across Berlin and the countryside.
On the 19th, a Berlin newspaper published remarks by Dr. Penzstein, a leading socialist figure, who stated: “The extraordinarily harsh terms of this treaty do not stem solely from anger or animosity.
Rather, they reflect the fact that German policy has never inspired trust, rendering such treatment inevitable.
All blame lies with Germany.
The concessions Germany seeks to make merely compensate for what was previously taken from its people.
I strongly disapprove of the inflammatory rhetoric being voiced by certain individuals.
Tell them: Do not relive the spirit of August 4, 1914!”
This statement served as a cooling balm amidst Germany’s fervent opposition.
On the 20th, Blücher wrote to the conference requesting an extension of the review and discussion period for the treaty.
Two days later, Clemenceau replied, granting an extension until May 19.
That same evening, the full German delegation departed for Spa, where they met with several cabinet ministers from Berlin to finalize their strategy.
On the 14th, Stresemann and other members traveled by train to Spa, joined by Blücher and sixteen other delegates, to convene an exceptionally long session.
Stresemann, acting as chairman, oversaw the adoption of Germany’s counterproposal.
Following the meeting, the government officials returned to Berlin, while Blücher and his colleagues retraced their steps to Versailles.
By May 27, Germany had submitted its response to the conference.
The first part of this reply included the following points: First, Germany acknowledged reducing its army to 100,000 men.
Second, it agreed to surrender its major warships while retaining its merchant fleet.
Third, it opposed the decisions concerning eastern territories, calling instead for a plebiscite among the inhabitants of East Prussia.
Fourth, it recognized Danzig as a free port.
Fifth, it demanded that Allied forces withdraw four months after the treaty’s signature.
Sixth, it sought admission to the League of Nations.
Seventh, it insisted on securing rights to administer former colonies.
Eighth, total reparations should not exceed 100 trillion marks.
Ninth, it rejected extradition requests for Kaiser Wilhelm II and other figures.
Tenth, Germany required the right to resume overseas commerce.
The initial portion of Germany’s response further stipulated: First, a standing army must be maintained during the transitional period to uphold public order.
Second, Germans should be allowed to hold citizens’ assemblies to discuss territorial cessions, and Austrians should be granted easier access to join Germany.
Third, the cession of Upper Silesia was rejected.
Fourth, Germany did not recognize Russia’s claim to reparations.
Fifth, there was no obligation to compensate countries such as Poland, Romania, or Lithuania.
In response, the representatives of the four major powers, after protracted deliberations, issued a rebuttal systematically refuting Germany’s proposals point by point.
The lengthy document essentially affirmed that Germany bore unavoidable responsibility for the war, must make every effort to compensate for its losses, and must surrender war criminals and perpetrators of wartime atrocities for prosecution.
It also underscored the need for Germany to abide by special restrictions for several years.
Furthermore, it asserted that the fundamental principles underlying the treaty were non-negotiable, though certain practical concessions might be possible.
Due to repeated requests from the German delegation, the signing date was repeatedly postponed, ultimately extending to June 18.
The first half of June was consumed by back-and-forth negotiations.
On June 18, the German delegation returned from Paris to Germany, unanimously advising the cabinet to reject the treaty.
The cabinet prepared to convene a national assembly in Weimar to decide this critical matter.
Meanwhile, the Allies had already begun military preparations, intending to march into Germany immediately upon a declaration of non-signature.
Germany found itself in a position where signing the treaty had become virtually unavoidable.
On June 22, the Allies delivered their “final response” to Germany, presenting the German representatives with a five-day ultimatum to accept the treaty.
The final text outlined several concessions: First, a plebiscite would be held in Upper Silesia.
Second, the border with West Prussia would be redrawn.
Third, the German army would temporarily be increased to 110,000 troops.
Fourth, the German military would commit to publishing within one month a list of individuals accused of violating wartime laws.
Fifth, provisions concerning financial matters would be revised.
Sixth, Germany’s future membership in the League of Nations would be contingent upon its fulfillment of obligations.
Recognizing that the treaty could no longer be salvaged, Stresemann decided to resign.
The new cabinet, formed on November 11, comprised Baan as Chancellor, Müller as Foreign Minister, Oßwig as Finance Minister, David as Interior Minister, Nasch as War Minister, Bell as Colonial Affairs Minister, Gleisbergz as Post and Telegraph Minister, Senznan as Labor Minister, Slitch as Public Works Minister, Huier as Public Economy Minister, Shale as Treasury Minister, and Smith as Food Minister.
Most of these appointees belonged to the majority Social Democratic Party and had previously served in the outgoing cabinet.
Faced with the urgent diplomatic crisis surrounding the peace negotiations, they were tasked with navigating this challenging situation.
Once the new cabinet was established, it became clear that signing the treaty was imminent.
With Stresemann’s departure, his designated peace negotiator naturally stepped down as well, leading to a change in Germany’s negotiating team.
The new delegation was composed of Foreign Minister Müller and Post and Telegraph Minister Gleisbergz, both members of the newly appointed cabinet.
Meanwhile, the national assembly had already convened in Weimar.
Baan delivered a deeply moving address, expressing the anguish of assuming office under such circumstances and urging the assembly to adopt a resolution rejecting the treaty, lest war resume.
Baan declared, “I hereby rise, for the last time as a free German, to resist this oppressive and destructive treaty!
To oppose this sham of self-determination!
To denounce this attempt to enslave the German people!
To protest this instrument that undermines world peace!”
Amidst loud debates between proponents and opponents, the assembly ultimately approved the motion to sign the treaty.
Thirteen days later, Baan returned to the assembly to reiterate the necessity of unconditional acceptance, stating, “A defeated nation suffers humiliation both in body and spirit!
Let us nonetheless sign this treaty.
As long as we preserve our breath, we can still ensure that those who have wronged us receive their just deserts!”
At this point, objections were raised, and a vote was held, resulting in approval of the motion.
Speaker Feribazan stood to deliver a brief address, proclaiming, “We entrust our sorrowful homeland to the merciful God,” and added, “Let each party leader pledge to inspire the military and the entire nation to set an example of self-sacrifice, supporting reconstruction and the rebuilding of our country!”
Germany’s historic decision—the moment that would determine the fate of global security—was finalized amid a profoundly emotional address.
Never before had the German people experienced a commemoration of such magnitude as on that day.
A message approving the treaty was transmitted to the conference, stating: “The German Republic’s government recognizes that the Allies intend to compel Germany to accept these terms by force.
Though seemingly minor, these conditions are designed to strip the German people of their honor.
Despite yielding to overwhelming military pressure, the German government remains steadfast in its position regarding these unprecedentedly unjust terms.
We hereby declare our willingness to accept the conditions imposed by the Allies.”
Upon the release of this statement, celebrations erupted worldwide.
By the 28th, however, the final extension had expired.
Consequently, an unprecedented mass signing took place at the Palace of Versailles.
At 3:05 p.m. on June 18, 1919, proceedings commenced in the Hall of Mirrors, set against a backdrop of solemn grandeur.
Representatives of all Allied powers assembled first, followed by the full German delegation—though only Foreign Minister Müller and Transport Minister Feil attended, while the others declined.
Clemenceau, as chair, delivered a brief declaration: “The Allied powers and the nations that fought alongside them have all endorsed these peace terms.
By signing, we affirm our commitment to uphold this solemn agreement.”
He then invited the German representative to proceed with the signing.
As the German delegation took their seats, a sudden uproar erupted: “The German representative rises to affix his signature!”
Feil was the first to sign.
It was 3:11 p.m., with fountains spraying and cannon fire echoing outside.
When the German representatives returned to their places, the hall erupted in applause.
Next came the United States, then Britain, France, Italy, Japan, and finally the Czechoslovakian delegation.
The signing concluded at 3:35 p.m. Clemenceau then announced the adjournment of the session.
News of the German parliament’s authorization to sign sparked patriotic demonstrations nationwide.
Crowds lined up chanting war songs and national anthems, cheering veteran commanders.
Newspapers expressed fierce indignation over the prospect of trying Kaiser Wilhelm II.
One publication even appealed to officers from the 1914 army, suggesting that if the Kaiser were to stand trial, so too should the Allied leaders, and urging the formation of a committee to relocate him to the Netherlands for protection.
Strikes and unrest broke out across various regions.
When news of the treaty’s signing reached Berlin, one local newspaper published an article titled “Germans Will Surely Avenge the Shame of 1919!”, which the government subsequently banned from circulation.
On the 29th, all newspapers featured black bars to signify mourning, accompanied by overwhelmingly pessimistic commentary.
Railway and tram workers in Berlin went on strike, paralyzing urban transportation.
Riots erupted in Hamburg and elsewhere.
Nationwide strikes spread rapidly.
I recount the signing process—not merely as a historical event, but as a reflection on what it meant for the German people’s collective psyche.
This treaty, save for the establishment of the League of Nations, was fundamentally directed against Germany.
Germany is a nation of the German people, renowned throughout history for its indomitable spirit.
When confronted with adversity, it has consistently risen to meet the challenge, often threatening to shake the very foundations of the global order.
We must not view Germany’s militarism as the personal whim of a single emperor; rather, the emperor embodies the essence of the German people.
Where there are Germans, there is an emperor.
In recent times, German identity has been shaped by the “upward-striving,” dynamic philosophies of Nietzsche, Fichte, Hegel, and Paulsen.
These thinkers fostered a sense of boldness and readiness to act.
Today, they continue to assert that “there is no sin in failing to wage war.
The German people possess one of the most ‘elevated’ spirits in the world—capable of transcending all hardships in pursuit of its idealized ‘height.’”
While we may condemn the emperor’s militarism and abuse of power, we cannot help but feel a measure of sympathy for the very qualities that define him: his unwavering aspiration.
When the German people faced defeat, they did not simply succumb.
Instead, they endured humiliating conditions and, in a remarkable turn of events, transformed themselves from an empire into a republic.
Indeed, some even questioned whether a republic was necessary at all.
This is a rather bold assertion, to be sure.
Consider the Western powers—Britain and France—are they not adversaries of Germany?
They serve as both enemies and allies, acting as a buffer against the rising influence of Russia, Austria, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and Poland.
If not to engage with these Eastern and Southern nations, then with whom should Germany align?
Any such alignment would necessitate a fundamental shift away from the existing framework governing relations with Russia, Austria, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia.
The success of the Hungarian and Czech revolutions demonstrates this trend.
Even earlier, rumors circulated that Czechoslovakia was poised to become a labor republic.
Last winter, a broad coalition of German socialists came perilously close to achieving a similar transformation.
The success of the Abell government, led by a Social Democratic majority, relied heavily on a small contingent of soldiers armed with few weapons.
Were the treaty to have been successfully ratified, those troops would have been disbanded, and the firearms surrendered.
What, then, would have sustained the government?
The devastation wrought upon Germany’s industry and commerce demanded a massive infusion of working-class energy to rebuild.
From that perspective, the most pressing task facing the post-war government was to earnestly seek the support of the working class.
The true weapon wielded by the Social Democrats was none other than these very workers.
Based on trends observed in both foreign and domestic affairs, I conclude that Germany must align itself with Russia, Austria, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia, ultimately transitioning into a communist republic.
Prior to 1919, Germany possessed the greatest power in the world.
After 1919, that mantle passed to France, Britain, and the United States.
Germany’s strength lay in its political and international clout.
The outcome of this war, however, saw the Allied powers—armed with superior political and diplomatic leverage—overcome Germany’s own political and international influence.
In the postwar era, the dominant powers shifted toward social and economic dominance.
The result was the triumph of nationalist movements across Eastern Europe, particularly those championed by socialist forces.
We must remain vigilant in our assessment of Germany’s future trajectory.
Nor should we overlook the dignified figures presiding over today’s international conferences.
The day will surely come when they too must confront their own headaches.
Nevertheless, the longevity of this treaty remains uncertain.
Drawing parallels with the treaties of Brest-Litovsk and Riga, it seems likely that its validity will be short-lived.
The elderly, ignorant Clemenceau, clutching that thick gray-yellow volume, perhaps imagined that once he signed it, the document would stand as firm as the Alps.
How pitiful!
The German people, however, endured the agonizing process of ratifying the treaty.