The Habsburg CIVLI Service and Beyond: Bureaucracy and Civil Servants from the Vormarz to the Inter-War Years (Sitzungsberichte Der Philosophisch-Historischen Klasse) 9783700181378, 370018137X

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Studying Habsburg Bureaucracy and Civil Servants

Franz Adlgasser & Fredrik Lindström, eds. The Habsburg Civil Service and Beyond Bureaucracy and Civil Servants from the Vormärz to the Inter-War Years

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ÖSTERREICHISCHE AKADEMIE DER WISSENSCHAFTEN PHILOSOPHISCH-HISTORISCHE KLASSE SITZUNGSBERICHTE, 892. BAND

Studying Habsburg Bureaucracy and Civil Servants

FRANZ ADLGASSER & FREDRIK LINDSTRÖM, EDS.

THE HABSBURG CIVIL SERVICE AND BEYOND BUREAUCRACY AND CIVIL SERVANTS FROM THE VORMÄRZ TO THE INTER-WAR YEARS

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Franz Adlgasser & Fredrik Lindström Angenommen durch die Publikationskommission der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften: Accepted by the publication committee of the Division of Humanities and Social Sciences of the Austrian Academy of Sciences: Michael Alram, Bert G. Fragner, Andre Gingrich, Hermann Hunger, Sigrid Jalkotzy-Deger, Renate Pillinger, Franz Rainer, Oliver Jens Schmitt, Danuta Shanzer, Peter Wiesinger, Waldemar Zacharasiewicz

Unterstützt von / Supported by

Diese Publikation wurde einem anonymen, internationalen Begutachtungsverfahren unterzogen. This publication was subject to international and anonymous peer review. Peer review is an essential part of the Austrian Academy of Sciences Press evaluation process. Before any book can be accepted for publication, it is assessed by international specialists and ultimately must be approved by the Austrian Academy of Sciences Publication Committee. The paper used in this publication is DIN EN ISO 9706 certified and meets the requirements for permanent archiving of written cultural property.

Alle Rechte vorbehalten. All rights reserved. ISBN 978-3-7001-8137-8 Copyright © 2019 by Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Wien Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna Satz/Typesetting: Andrea Rostorfer, Vienna Druck/Printed: Prime Rate, Budapest https://epub.oeaw.ac.at/8137-8 https://verlag.oeaw.ac.at Made in Europe

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Contents Franz Adlgasser & Fredrik Lindström Editors’ Introduction: Studying Habsburg Bureaucracy and Civil Servants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Fredrik Lindström The State and Bureaucracy as a Key Field of Research in Habsburg Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Gary B. Cohen The Austrian Bureaucracy at the Nexus of State and Society . . . . . . . . 49 Jonathan Kwan The Formation of the Liberal Generation in Austria, c. 1830-1861: Education, Revolution and State Service . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 Andrea Pokludová The Legally Trained Civil Servants in Moravia and Silesia 1848–1918 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 Martin Klečacký An Independent Judge in the Austrian Administration: The Example of Bohemia around 1900 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Marion Wullschleger Running the Show in the Adriatic Provinces: The Last Three Austrian Governors in Trieste (1898–1918) . . . . . . . . . 129 Judit Pál Research on Hungarian High Officials in the Dual Monarchy: The Case of Transylvanian Lord-Lieutenants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149

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Contents

Julia Bavouzet A Prosopographical Survey of the High Civil Service Corps of the Ministries in the Hungarian Part of the Dual Monarchy . . . . . . . 167 Heiko Brendel Bureaucrats at War: Konzeptsbeamte in the Austro-Hungarian Military Administrations in Poland, Serbia, Montenegro and Albania during the First World War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 Therese Garstenauer The Conduct of Life of Austrian Civilian Government Employees in the First Republic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 Peter Becker The Administrative Apparatus under Reconstruction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 John Deak After “Bureaucratic Absolutism”: A Search for New Paradigms in late Imperial Habsburg History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275

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Editors’ Introduction Studying Habsburg Bureaucracy and Civil Servants Franz Adlgasser & Fredrik Lindström The workshop “The Imperial Austrian Civil Service and its Aftermath, 1848–1933” in Vienna in April 2015 was co-organized by the editors of this volume: Franz Adlgasser of the Austrian Academy of Sciences’ Institute for Modern and Contemporary Historical Research and Fredrik Lindström of Malmö University (Department of Global Political Studies), Sweden.1 Our point of departure was the important social historical research of the Imperial Austrian bureaucracy and civil servants in the last few decades, pioneered by historians such as Waltraud Heindl and Karl Megner. However, we had noted that biographical and collective biographical research on individuals and groups of civil servants was scarce regarding the revival of interest in the Imperial Austrian bureaucracy. We identified this as a core issue for deepening the understanding of the bureaucracy, its working and its importance for the functioning of the state, parallel to similar research in the field of politics or imperial identity conducted in the last years by the editors of this volume and many others.2 From this point of departure, we decided to invite researchers to a workshop about the Imperial Austrian (and Royal Hungarian, for the period of the Dual Monarchy) civil service in the period 1848–1918 and its aftermath in the interwar years. The extension of the time frame beyond 1918 came from a recognition that although the Habsburg civil service formally ceased to exist at the end of the First World War, it had an extended life in the wholesale takeover of much of the bureaucracy in several of the successor states. Furthermore, the extension was motivated through the very biographical reflection that both individuals and groups of civil servants, as well as the 1

Main funding for the workshop came from Riksbankens Jubileumsfond in Sweden, with additional support from the Austrian Academy of Sciences. We also want to thank the three leading Habsburg historians Gary B. Cohen, Pieter M. Judson and Peter Urbanitsch who gracefully accepted to close the workshop with a panel discussion. 2 Compare Adlgasser 2014a and Lindström 2008.

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types of values they represented, were carried over into the new arrangement of Central Europe.3 We also extended our workshop call to the adjoining fields of social historical and organizational studies of the bureaucracy, as well as highlighting the importance of the interaction between civil service and society. We soon realized that we were hardly alone in our assessment on the importance of biographical research to further the study of the Habsburg bureaucracy. This was overwhelmingly reflected in the workshop and also in the current publication of the main part of its proceedings. Individual and collective biographical studies of different levels of the bureaucracy, central ministries, provincial and local administration, as well as the judiciary, provided an intersection of the main groups of the state administration. The program also included several contributions on the Hungarian part of the Monarchy, something which not only decisively enriched the workshop (and the publication), but which also made our workshop title somewhat misleading. We had less success in attracting contributions on social historical and organizational themes, even if these aspects are present in some of the contributions. This imbalance may reflect the situation that these fields have been researched in the last few decades and that there is a pent-up need for biographical approaches in the field at the present. Finally, it should be noted that the interaction between the bureaucracy and society was strongly addressed in the introductory presentation by Gary B. Cohen, which made this aspect a recurring theme of discussion throughout the workshop. Even if this theme is more marginally present in the majority of contributions published here, Lindström addresses this problem in the overarching approach to “The State and Bureaucracy as a Key Field of Research in Habsburg ­Studies”, the introductory article of this volume. The central part of the current volume is comprised by biographical ­studies into all three main levels of the internal administration in Imperial Austria and on the two levels of central ministries and counties (Komitate) in Royal Hungary. Further, it contains a study of judges in Imperial Austria, an essay on civil servants deployed in the territories occupied by the Habsburg Monarchy during the First World War, and a paper focusing on civil servants in the First Austrian Republic. Some of these studies are overtly collective biographical, others focus on individual civil servants, while a few mix collective and individual perspectives, as well as social historical perspectives. 3

The somewhat arbitrary endpoint of 1933 was chosen because this year marked the end of the democratic phase of the First Austrian Republic, which was succeeded by the ­authoritarian “Ständestaat” in the period 1934–1938. Taking Czechoslovakia as a point of reference, 1938 could just as well have been chosen.

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Cohen’s presentation, written as a point of departure for the workshop, gives an overview of the field and thus contributes to tying together the studies of different individuals and groups of civil servants in an overarching perspective, in which also the role of the bureaucracy as “the nexus between state and society” is pointed out. The first biographical article is written by Jonathan Kwan, who is a leading expert on liberalism and the liberal elite in late Imperial Austria. His focus lies particularly on the important role of that elite in the constitutional reforms of the Austrian state in the 1860s and 1870s. A special contribution of his research is to highlight the high degree of identification of the members of this elite with the Habsburg state, and later foremost with Imperial (Cisleithanian) Austria.4 In this regard, the elite in question may be seen as a core group in the reform project of transforming the old Austrian Empire into a liberal entity discussed extensively in Lindström’s introduction. In his contribution, Kwan goes back somewhat in time and looks at the origins and development of the engagement for the building of a constitutional empire from the 1840s and 1850s in seven biographies of highly prominent members of this elite who worked in the central ministries and government of Imperial Austria, both before and after the watershed of 1867. Andrea Pokludová presents a collective biographical study of the highest layer of civil servants on the third level in the state bureaucracy of Imperial Austria, the counties (Bezirke) and their top administrators, the county prefects (Bezirkshauptmänner). Pokludová’s work is extremely valuable, as there is very little work on this level of state administration in Imperial ­Austria completed. If we are going to develop a greater understanding of the interaction of state institutions and society in Late Imperial Austria, this is the level that needs to be researched thoroughly, with different aspects highlighted and with various empirical focal-points.5 Pokludová looks at various county prefects in the provinces of Moravia and Silesia, a study that con­ tinues substantial previous work by her on those regions.6 An equally important contribution is that by Martin Klečacký, who focuses on the judiciary, an equally under-researched, but extremely important, part of the Imperial 4 See 5

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Kwan 2013. Thomas Stockinger at the Institut für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung at the University of Vienna is currently working on this level of government in Imperial Austria, with a focus on the interaction between the state administration and individuals in society in the mid-nineteenth century. Peter Urbanitsch is also currently conducting research on this level, with a focus on county prefects in Bohemia in the last decades of the nineteenth century. See for instance, Pokludová 2008a.

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­ ustrian civil service. He provides a most valuable background to this subA group of the civil service and presents a most intriguing view into how nationalist groups tried to influence the appointment of imperial judges in Bohemia around the turn of the century, using the example of the Young Czech party. This type of influencing was prevalent throughout the bureaucracy of Imperial Austria during its last decades, when nationalist movements tried to get their own candidates appointed as civil servants in key positions. Marion Wullschleger provides an interesting perspective on the careers of governors (Statthalter) by conducting biographical studies into this highest echelon of civil servants on the provincial level, individuals who often worked also in the central ministries for parts of their careers and who belonged to the high bureaucracy of Imperial Austria. Wullschleger presents a paper on the three last governors of the Littoral (Küstenland) in the south of Imperial Austria, residing in Trieste.7 Judit Pál is an expert on the Hungarian bureaucracy in the Dual ­Monarchy, having specialized in the civil servants of the Transylvanian counties (­Komitate) of the Kingdom, today lying in Romania.8 She presents us with a collective biographical look at the top echelon of the second level of a­ dministration in the Kingdom of Hungary, the centrally appointed Lord-Lieutenants (Obergespane) of the counties, in the process giving an overview of the research on the Hungarian bureaucracy and specifically on different categories of civil servants. Pál’s own empirical focus is on the group of Transylvanian Lord-Lieutenants and its transformation over the span of the Dual Monarchy (1867–1918). Julia Bavouzet’s study takes us into the (re)founded Hungarian central bureaucracy of the period of the Dual Monarchy after 1867. She presents some findings of her collective biography of the civil servants of the central ministries of the Hungarian state, a very important aspect for research on the Habsburg bureaucracy.9 Bavouzet focuses on the social composition of this bureaucratic elite and highlights especially its social transformation in the period in question into a more modern organization staffed to an increasing degree with middle-class individuals selected according to meritocratic principles (Leistungsprinzip). With Heiko Brendel’s contribution, we move into a special sub-field of studies into the Habsburg bureaucracy: the administration of occupied ­territories during the First World War. He researches the deployment of 7

See also Wullschleger 2015. Pál 2007, 2008. 9 See Bavouzet 2017. 8 See

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law-trained civil servants in the military administration of occupied Poland, ­Serbia, Montenegro, and Albania. We get an initiated look into the mixed civilian and military administrative structures of these areas, and a special view of the problematic role of civilian administrators in a military-dominated milieu. Therese Garstenauer’s contribution gives us a glimpse into that post1918 period that we originally planned to give a more prominent place in both workshop and publication than we were able to realize in practice. ­Garstenauer’s approach is social historical and thus broadens our perspective in this regard.10 The focus lies on the “conduct of life” aspect of being a civil servant in the First Austrian Republic. She uses disciplinary files to find the “limits” of accepted behavior and to present a view on the codes of conduct that a civil servant laboured under in the First Republic. This is a type of approach that would be welcome also in the late Imperial period, since this would enhance our knowledge in important regards of the groups that filled the ranks of the bureaucracy of the Habsburg state. The concluding article in the central empirical part of the publication is a contribution written by Peter Becker, one of the most prominent cultural historians of the Austrian bureaucracy. Becker has published widely on cultural aspects of bureaucracy, and specifically on the Habsburg bureaucracy.11 He delves into the heart of the late Imperial Austrian bureaucracy and its interaction with society when he investigates how the Imperial Commission on Administrative Reform in 1912 approached the issue of the interaction between bureaucracy and the population through a very ambitious, largescale inquiry “on the views of relevant segments of the population on the workings of the bureaucracy.” Becker views this inquiry as an attempt of the bureaucracy to lay itself on the “analytical couch”, as it were, and gain new knowledge of its modes of functioning vis-á-vis society, an approach that allows us to view exactly the nexus pointed out by Cohen through the eyes of the contemporaries. These articles together provide a good overview of different levels of the Habsburg bureaucracy and its aftermath; and even if they empirically may only be able to present a patchy picture of the entire field of study of the Habsburg state and bureaucracy, taken together they give a good sense of what is needed to conduct overarching research in the field. In the ­references of the articles, it also becomes quite evident that there already is s­ ubstantial 10

See also Garstenauer 2011. Becker 2003, 2011, and especially his investigation into the origins of the “administrative apparatus” in the reforms of Joseph II, Becker 2000.

11 See

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Franz Adlgasser & Fredrik Lindström

research in the sub-fields concerned, but that it is mostly available in the ­languages of the areas covered by the case studies, therefore making it harder to be perceived and adopted on a broader international level. Here a multi­faceted need for language competences and local knowledge becomes ­visible for anyone who contemplates initiating research on the larger field of Habsburg bureaucracy, which we do think is a pressing issue for Habsburg studies at large. The organization and funding of such research most p­ robably need to be realized in an international network with prominent institutions in several successor states to the Habsburg Monarchy participating. The conclusion of the volume is an essay of historiographical nature, which we deem especially worthy of sustained reflection due to its focus on the overarching issues of the current research field. John Deak’s deliberations on the influence of the term “bureaucratic absolutism” on the understanding of the Habsburg bureaucracy, and the Habsburg state in the historiography since 1918, gives a most valuable background to the formation of the long-lasting image of the Habsburg Monarchy as an enemy of progress, and a dead end of historical development. Deak argues critically that this term has contributed to the spreading views of the Habsburg state that have considerably hindered the development of a more variegated view of the qualities of this state.12 Therefore, the historiographical essays by Lindström und Deak frame a number of essential empirical studies on the Habsburg bureaucracy and its aftermath, introduced by an overview by Cohen, thus bringing into focus the central issue of the nexus between state and society. This sharpens the view on the next research steps to be taken into the direction of an even better understanding of the Habsburg civil service as a central aspect in the understanding of this empire in the heart of Europe and its pivotal role not just for the history of this area, but also for modern European history as a whole.

12

On this problem, see also Deak 2014.

The State and Bureaucracy as a Key Field of Research in Habsburg Studies

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The State and Bureaucracy as a Key Field of Research in Habsburg Studies Fredrik Lindström Man versteht Österreich nicht, wenn man nicht die Bedeutung und das Wesen seiner Verwaltung kennt.1

In view of the early recognition of the importance of the state and bureaucracy for the understanding of Imperial Austria and the Habsburg Monarchy, it is somewhat concerning that studies in this field do not constitute a major sub-field of Habsburg studies. This becomes even more disturbing as the last 70 years of this complex state constitute a crucial part of the history of European modernity. The Habsburg Monarchy is far too often seen as a dead end of historical development. Its form – a dynastic, multi-ethnic state built from several equally complex component “states” in a differentiated federalism – is usually regarded as a type of state that, due to its complexity, had overstayed its welcome in the early twentieth century, an age in E ­ urope shaped by nationalizing states. However, seen in a longer perspective, it should be emphasized that the Habsburg Monarchy was the carrier of the old European tradition of universal monarchy, which, in its reduced scope and changed circumstances of the early twentieth century, meant that it was the carrier of a tradition that could perhaps be called “supranational”. This term, however, is only meaningful in the hothouse nationalist environment of late nineteenth-century and early twentieth-century Europe. A more accurate term would be “a-national”. Though there is a long historical process behind this development – which deserves to be recounted – this is not the right place for such an extended excursion. Suffice it to say that the Catholic universal monarchy of the Habsburg dynasty was over the centuries gradually transformed, slowly shedding its religious mission, subordinating this component into the project of creating a modern state run by a reform bureaucracy. This project, in fits and starts from the mid-eighteenth century, slowly created a common legal 1

Austrian historian Heinrich Benedikt on nineteenth-century Imperial Austria, quoted in Allmayer-Beck 1957, 264.

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and administrative framework for linguistically, religiously, culturally and politically differentiated Central European society. When its longest serving head of state, Emperor and King Franz Joseph (1848–1916), contributed through his style of government to gradually free the bureaucracy from its role as the executive arm of the dynasty – turning it into a more or less autonomous organization functioning as a legal and administrative framework of society, with no apparent purpose and direction of its own – things started to become really interesting. Furthermore, in its very last phase (from 1890 to 1914), this organization was strongly shaped by its interaction with a vibrant, dynamic society going through rapid economic, political and cultural change: a process which now turned back on the state and bureaucracy and effected adaptation to developments in society. This interactive process was a product of historical accident, in which a modernizing, unifying and centralizing state was being constructed on top of a linguistically, religiously, culturally and politically complex part of Europe. It created a polity and a society that should be recognized as a central concern for the study of modern European history, as a counter-point to the hegemonic model of homogeneous nation states, or even as a potential historical alternative to the route taken by ­Europe in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries – that of nationalism. Against this background, the relative lack of studies into the Habsburg imperial state and bureaucracy becomes even more troublesome. The problem is not the lack of recognition of the importance of this field. It was dealt with prominently already in the interwar era,2 it was a continued presence in the years after 1945, and it was included prominently in the grand scheme of the Austrian Academy of Sciences in the 1960s of creating a commission with the task to produce a multivolume handbook on the Habsburg Monarchy in the period 1848–1918.3 This initiative also led to a very fruitful phase in Austrian historiography in the 1980s and early 1990s of studying the Imperial Austrian state and bureaucracy, which produced a number of key works that until today form the basis for further research in the field.4 In 1992, Gerald Stourzh wrote a prominent article emphasizing the Imperial ­Austrian state as one of the most important research areas in Habsburg s­ tudies.5 Ironically, this article heralded a prolonged period when little research on this 2 3

4 5

Redlich 1920–1926, Die österreichische Zentralverwaltung 1907–1972. Die Habsburgermonarchie 1973–2018. Vol. 2 covered Verwaltung und Rechtswesen (1975). See also the respective material in the archive of the Austrian Academy of ­Sciences (further on quoted as ÖAW Archiv/Geschichte der Österr.-Ung. Monarchie). Thanks to Peter Urbanitsch for information on the early stages of this series. See primarily Stourzh 1985, Megner 1985, Heindl 1990, also Burger 1995. Stourzh 1992.

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topic was published. However, in recent years a number of new publications have appeared; and although the majority of these publications were produced by scholars approaching the end of their careers, there is also a sense of a new start.6 Therefore, the problem is not one of the recognition of the importance of the field as such. The problem concerns, first, the relative weight of research on the state and bureaucracy in comparison to research on other aspects of the late Habsburg Monarchy; second, the relative lack of continuity in research and the relative absence of comprehensive research projects in the field, marking a certain lack of direction and coherence in the research effort as such; and, third, the relative lack of integration between this field and other areas within Habsburg studies at large. I will here develop an argument for the key-role of the study of the Habsburg imperial state and bureaucracy for the understanding of the wider development of Habsburg and Central European society. In the first section, I will consider the issue of historiography, delineating the important role of studies on the state and the bureaucracy for the further development of a concept of Habsburg historiography. In the second and third section, I will raise some recent developments in Habsburg historiography with the aim of reflecting on the importance of the state and the bureaucracy for understanding, or framing, these developments in the writing of the history of the Habsburg Monarchy. National Historiography and Habsburg Historiography In stark contrast to research on the state and bureaucracy, studies on natio­ nalism and national identity in the Habsburg Monarchy have been a­ lmost overpowering in the sheer volume of research conducted up to this day. This state of affairs is problematic in at least two ways: It creates a fundamental imbalance in Habsburg studies, leaving the impression that the late Monarchy is, first and foremost, to be understood as a demonstration of the problems of the “multinational” state and of its ultimate unviability. Then, there is a fundamental problem in this field of research on nationalism and national identity in the Habsburg Monarchy, insofar as a large portion of it is constituted by national – some of it straightforwardly nationalist – historiography, 6

Urbanitsch 2008, Megner 2010 and Heindl 2013b; for younger scholars, see Seiderer 2015 and Deak 2015. The workshop “The Imperial Austrian Civil Service and its Aftermath, 1848–1933” in Vienna in April 2015, arranged in cooperation between the Austrian Academy of Sciences’ Institut für Neuzeit- und Zeitgeschichtsforschung and Malmö University, Dept. of Global Political Studies, in Sweden, showcased the relative vibrancy of the field at the present. The main part of the contributions to this workshop is published in this volume.

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in the sense that it was to differing degrees written with the underlying purpose of legitimizing the successor states constructed after the breakup of the Monarchy. At the beginning of the present century, a scholarly debate took place that touched on core issues regarding nationalism and the relationship between society and the imperial state, as well as regarding the issue of how to frame the historical analysis of this relationship. The focus in this debate was on the closely related concepts of “ethnicist historiography” and “national indifference”.7 I will begin in this section to consider the notion of “ethnicist historiography”, which has to do with the framing conditions of historical inquiry in the field concerned. I will then proceed in the following section to the analytical concept of “national indifference” and consider its import for our understanding of the issues at hand. Finally, in the long last section, I will broaden the perspective to the question of the role of the state and bureau­cracy for the understanding of the development of Habsburg Central European society at large up to 1918. In his seminal contribution to the discussion of “ethnicist historiography” in East Central Europe, Jeremy King delineated a basic problem in much of Habsburg historiography as working with ethnical categories as a defining feature. In my view, King’s concept of “ethnicist historiography” in a ­general way describes the outcome of the normalization of nationalist historio­ graphy: it describes what happens to nationalist historiography once it has permeated a historical discipline and transformed nationalist into analytical categories. Pieter Judson has described the problem addressed by King as many Habsburg “scholars’ confusion of language use with group soli­darity,”8 which is a good way to describe the analytical leap into prefabricated ­historical categories that, according to King, is made in many Habsburg ­studies. Stourzh engaged critically with King’s thesis, on the one hand, by questioning whether it was correct to understand scholarship used as ­examples by King as ethnicist historiography, and, on the other hand, with a firm grip on matters demonstrating that ethnic categories heavily influenced social developments and government policy during the period under debate. Stourzh is, in my view, the historian who has contributed the most regarding unravelling the core processes operating in the late Habsburg Monarchy concerning the interaction between the rule of law, language use in society

7

8

See especially King 2001; Zahra 2008, 2010; and Stourzh 2011. Judson 2014, 63.

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and the ­formation of ethnic identities.9 However, I also think that he, in the presently-discussed article, underestimated the prevalence of ethnicist ­perspectives in the scholarship on the period. For example, Stourzh enumerates a number of studies he thinks disprove King’s critique, since they are, in his view, not ethnicist in any meaningful sense. One is Jan Křen’s study on the relationship between Czechs and Germans from 1780 until 1918, Die Konfliktgemeinschaft.10 Stourzh assesses that this book (and a number of other works) displays “quite exemplary transnational sensibility and empathy.”11 I agree that Křen’s work is robust in its deep probing and multifaceted approach to the conflict between nationalist parties in the Bohemian lands and that he demonstrates an important capacity for switching perspectives and a sensibility in the way he addresses the two sides to the conflict. Undoubtedly, it is one of the most important studies on the nationalism issue in the Habsburg Monarchy published in the last few decades. At the same time, it is a study completely based on national categories. The book presents a perspective on Bohemian history that represents it as a grand narrative of the struggle of two national groups over the Bohemian lands. Stourzh indicates this when he says that Křen’s study is an exemplary “transnational” approach; indeed, the work is a prime example of what King rightly identifies as ethnicist (but, to my mind, not nationalist) historiography. This can also be discerned in the framing Křen gives his work, which is a teleological perspective on the conflict that finds its natural end in ethnic cleansing. The euphemistic wording in which this teleology is presented in the introduction to the work is almost chilling: “Im Zweiten Weltkrieg […] vollendeten sich langfristige Tendenzen der Entwicklung der mitteleuropäi­ schen Nationalitäten zur Segregation und zur Abgrenzung voneinander.”12 That is, the long-term processes in Central European society were reaching its fulfilment in ethnic cleansing. Křen’s work is complex enough also to discern the complicated situation in the Bohemian lands, where the “borders” between the nations were fluid in some periods and places. However, in its teleology and its dominant focus on the struggle between two national groups, it presents a reading of history that fits King’s category of ethnicist historiography quite well.

9

See especially Stourzh 1985, in my view, one of the most important works in Habsburg historiography in the last half-century. 10 Křen 1996. 11 Stourzh 2011, 299. 12 Křen 1996, 22.

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Though I am not competent enough to evaluate the detail of the argument between Stourzh and King,13 I do think it is appropriate to make a general remark to the effect that historiography is shaped by narrative structures with dominating analytical categories that do not spring from scientific concerns, but from other outside influences on the historian, e.g. ideologies.14 It is also well established that nationalism, or national identity-building, is one such dominating structuring influence on modern historiography.15 It is, furthermore, well established that East Central European historiography up to this day is strongly shaped in particular by national categories.16 This gives a general basis for King’s argument about Habsburg historiography (he speaks of East Central Europe; but in practical terms, he talks about what we could call Habsburg historiography). However, it still does not take us very far without analysing the historiography concerned in more detail. Although this is not the place for such an investigation, I will make an overview of the problem in order to land such a perspective as King presents in a concept of a ‘Habsburg historiography’. Historical disciplines are usually dependent on state funding, which normally comes with certain constraints concerning what scholarship is preferred. Such constraints may be implemented through the establishment of university departments or research institutes with a specific focus and by entrusting the leadership of these institutions to individuals with a sound outlook on society and history; another form of restraint is achieved through funding certain types of research programs. All this necessitates the existence of a state in the first place. Which states fund Habsburg historiography? In the case of the Czech Republic, the problem is that Czech historiography is massively national in its orientation: an orientation that has its roots in the nationalist conflicts in the late Habsburg Monarchy. These roots were solidified by the events in the period 1938–1947 into the firm basis of the discipline in post-war Czechoslovakia. The renewed debates in the 1990s about the Beneš decrees on the expulsion of the “Sudeten Germans” shored up the dominance of the national category as guiding historiography in the Czech Republic and prevented what could have turned into a more diversified development of Czech historiography after the end of the Cold War. As one historian recently concluded, “the debate on the transfer shows how

13

They both cite a number of works into which I lack a sufficient insight. White 1973, 1987 for the fundamental issue at hand. 15 See for instance Berger et al. 1999 and Berger 2007 on national historiography. 16 See Antohi et al. 2007 on East Central European historiography after 1989. 14 See

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deeply current Czech thought on modern history is imprisoned in the natio­ nal-historical perspective.”17 Slovak historiography constitutes a more complex case, which can be used to lead the discussion forward in the direction of a concept of Habsburg historiography. In certain regards, Slovak historiography is also firmly grounded in national categories. The long history of the Slovak territories as being part of other states (Hungary, the Austrian Empire, Czechoslovakia) has made Slovak historiography grow national under pressure of other hegemonic nationalisms (German, Hungarian, Czech), and this has been confirmed after the dissolution of Czechoslovakia in a reinforced Slovak national tendency in historiography. In the 1990s, the new republic sought legitimation in more or less dubious historical pasts, such as the Tiso Republic during the Nazi period and the Greater Moravian Empire a thousand years ago, as well as in other historical expressions of the national will to independent political life. However, the very fact of the diversified and shifting interdependencies of the Slovak territories during history has also created a certain diversification of perspectives. That these territories were the heartland of free Hungary during the period of Turkish rule over Central Europe, as well as that of the close relationship to Austria and Vienna during several periods of history, ensures that Slovak historiography shows a promising diversity.18 This latter character trait is even more pronounced in Hungarian historio­ graphy. Nevertheless, like in the other Central European states, it has a heavy national bias. This seems to be the case in most of these countries, possibly because the Soviet hegemony prescribed the form of national-communism.19 Older national tendencies in historiography were in many cases reinforced in the period 1945–1989, in some cases almost seamlessly continuing the basic trends originating from the nationalist conflicts in the late Habsburg Monarchy. In accordance with this, Hungarian historiography has after 1989 retained a strong national bias. However, like in the case of Slovakia, Hungarian history is just too complicated to streamline into such a simple shape. The existence of large Hungarian-speaking minorities in the neighbouring countries has contributed to an interest both within these minorities and in Hungary on the history of these regions, and this has created beneficial historiographical interdependencies. The long history of the Hungarian Kingdom in the region, which encompassed areas now in neighbouring states and 17

On the development over time of Czech historiography, see Kolář & Kopaček 2007, quote 216–217. Odsun, translated here as transfer, is the euphemistic term used in Czechoslovakia resp. the Czech Republic for the expulsion of the ethnic Germans. 18 See Hlavičková 2007. See also Kováč, Suppan et al. 2001 and Rumpler 2001 specifically. 19 Antohi 2007.

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also large parts of the language groups dominating in these countries, has had similar effects on historiography that goes both ways (e.g. between ­Slovak and Hungarian historiography). Furthermore, for Habsburg studies it is especially important that the majority of the archives concerning the administration of the complex Hungarian state are situated in Budapest. Modern Hungary has also, perhaps partly for this eminently practical reason, taken a special responsibility for the larger Habsburg historiography; and cooperative research with institutes and scholars in neighbouring states are relatively common.20 Hungarian historiography also has a strong undercurrent of idealizing the Dual Monarchy Austria-Hungary (1867–1918) as a “Golden Age” in Hungarian history.21 This tendency goes back to the 1960s and was established since the 1970s in the Hungarian academic community – long before the resurgence of interest in “Fin-de-Siècle Vienna” – something which arguably reinforces the tendency towards regional perspectives and cooperation within historiography. Contacts and cooperation between the Hungarian and Austrian Academies of Sciences on the common Habsburg history go back into the 1960s.22 The creation of the Habsburg Institute in Budapest in 2002 under the prominent historian András Gerő, which received robust state funding for a few years, temporarily reinforced the Habsburg strain in Hungarian historiography, not least by taking on many research fellows focusing on the history of the Monarchy.23 The diversity clearly discernible in Hungary is, nevertheless, a mere whisper when compared to Austrian historiography. In the classic study of Austrian historical self-understanding Der Kampf um die österreichische Identität, Friedrich Heer made the following important observation: “Es gibt kein historisches Gebilde in Europa, das so sehr außengesteuert ist wie 20

Trencsényi & Apor 2007. 21 See Pribersky 2003. 22 Cooperation, for instance

on the publication of source material concerning the Dual ­ onarchy, was initiated well before 1989. Under a joint agreement, the Austrian side M publishes the protocols of the Austrian and later Cisleithanian ministerial councils 1848– 1867 and 1867–1918, while the Hungarian Academy of Sciences publishes those of the common ministerial council from 1867–1918. There was also a committee of the Austrian Academy of Sciences on “Austria and Hungary” which organized a series of conferences in cooperation with the Hungarian Academy. A further cooperation between the two academies existed in the field of the history of law. On this latter cooperation, see Máthé & Ogris 2010. I am grateful to Anatol Schmied-Kowarzik and Stefan Malfèr for background information on these initiatives. 23 See Trencsényi & Apor 2007, 36. On the Habsburg Institute, see also http://www.habsburg. org.hu. The fact that almost all research fellows appointed in the period 2003–2009 were Hungarians somewhat lessens the cooperative aspect of this venture. The venture seems also to have ceased after 2009.

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Österreich.”24 To capture and make sense of such a history, situated at the cross-roads of multifarious influences and interdependencies, is a difficult undertaking, especially, perhaps, when there are strong political undercurrents at play that promote widely differing readings of the history in question, taking their points of departures one-sidedly in one or other of these influences. The problem of national historiography in Austria is so complicated that it makes King’s concept of ethnicist historiography a very blunt instrument to work with, something I also believe hampered mutual comprehension between him and Stourzh in that debate. Austrian historiography has its fair share of German national historical perspectives, of different Greater German and Pan-German views of Austrian history.25 But it also contains a strong Austrian national strain, which conducts historical inquiries with at least one eye on the objective of grounding a small state Austrian historical self-understanding, and in some cases an Austrian national identity corresponding to the republic founded in 1918. For most of the time since 1945, these different perspectives have been protagonists in a discussion uneasily circling the problem of Nazi-Germany and the question of Austrian complicity in that period. This is a major problem in Austrian historiography, perhaps in a similar way as the period of communism is a problem for the other above-discussed national historiographies. However, it is important to note that both these perspectives – just like similar national perspectives in the neighbouring post-Habsburg states in Central Europe – invade and shrink the historical perspective on the late Monarchy. These two perspectives are the corresponding national bias in Austrian historiography; that they, ultimately, stem from two different and incompatible nationalisms serve to highlight the relative complexity of this individual post-Habsburg national historiography. Nevertheless, the “external influences” in Austrian history identified by Heer are so multifaceted as to effect Austrian historiography by the sheer weight of empirical substance matter. Perhaps, one could say that no other 24 25

Heer 1981, 18. Although it is possible to list works confirming to the description German(-Austrian) ­ethnicist historiography, I will refrain from doing so here, since that would necessitate a longer discussion. For a multifaceted and complex approach to the problem of Austria as part of German history, Fritz Fellner’s studies can be recommended. Fellner was a pro­ponent of a kind of “All-German” view of history, which tried to shed the historical weight of Great-German and Little-German baggage, and distance itself from Pan-German racial nationalism. Fellner was also very critical of paternalistic perspectives on Habsburg history as a sort of special Austrian historical mission and responsibility in the South-East of Europe, which are common in Austrianist historiography. His work is one of several fruitful points of entrance into the complicated debate on Austrian historiography; see especially Fellner 2002.

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European national historiography is “so sehr außengesteuert”, to paraphrase Heer. Trying to avoid centuries of Habsburg history is even more difficult in the old centre of the Monarchy than it is in Hungarian, Slovak or Czech historiography. Consequently, the Austrian Republic has been one of the main sponsors of Habsburg historiography. Though the sponsorship has taken many forms, its main vessel has been the Kommission für die Geschichte der Habsburgermonarchie (Habsburg Commission) of the Austrian Academy of Sciences.26 Its project of publishing the multivolume work on the history of the Habsburg Monarchy (Die Habsburgermonarchie 1848–1918, published since 1973) must be seen as the backbone of Habsburg studies.27 In view of the focus on national historiography and the formative influences on historiography in general, it is appropriate to observe the influences of this type on the absolutely central institution of the Habsburg Commission in the development of a Habsburg historiography. Its origins are intertwined with a wider “government sponsored history project” that emerged around 1960 and aimed at producing a historical foundation for the self-understanding of the Second Austrian Republic, which had been freed from Allied occupation a few years earlier.28 Somewhat simplified, one could say that the role of the Habsburg Commission in this wider scheme of things was to turn the “negative” Austrian historical inheritance of being the “warden” of the “prison of nations” – small state Austria as the direct successor to the empire that had been defeated in 1918 – into a more “positive” part of Austrian history. The Habsburg Commission came into being in a drawn-out process ­originating in the late 1950s. It was created when Heinrich Drimmel, then Minister of Education, initiated a project of re-conceptualizing the Habsburg Monarchy as an important historical forerunner to the emerging supra­ national order in post-war Europe, in the process creating a more positive role for Austria in this larger history: the role of the centre of a supranational state in the midst of Europe. In the early drafts to the research project of the Commission, the general guideline was that research into the Habsburg 26

In 2013, the Kommission was re-organized into the Forschungsbereich Geschichte der Habsburgermonarchie of the academy’s Institut für Neuzeit- und Zeitgeschichtsforschung. 27 Die Habsburgermonarchie 1973–2018. See the diverse documentation in ÖAW Archiv/ Geschichte der Österr.-Ung. Monarchie. 28 See Oberkofler 2003 for a description of the origins of this project. This is also the subject of an on-going project of the present author, with the working title: “History and Memory in the Austrian Postwar, 1960–1988,” partly sponsored by the Vienna Wiesenthal Institute through a Senior Research Fellowship. On this, see also Lindström 2006.

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­ onarchy in the period 1848–1918 and the dispositions and events that led to M the destruction of the old order should provide “Erkenntnisse und Erfahrungen für eine übernationale Neuordnung Europas.”29 That the project was, at least partly, constituted as a political instrument to buttress the tenuous and shifting image of Austria in the emerging international order can also be seen in the way it was apparently planned to function as a sort of “propaganda work” to improve the tainted image of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy in Europe and in the USA: a publication to “enlighten” the international public and spread a more “correct view” of the Habsburg Monarchy.30 It may be important to note the general political background to this historiographical initiative. The Austrian Republic funded this project, just like any other state funds historical research, partly for political reasons, and in the process it furthered certain types of historiography at the cost of others. However, the interconnection between these political motivations and the actual content of the work of the Habsburg commission is, at most, indirect. The subsequent work of the commission disproved any fears of political instrumentalisation: the research program put together during the 1960s was surprisingly open-minded and forward-looking. The idea was to create “eine auf internationaler Gelehrtenbasis aufgebaute objektive Gesamtdarstellung der Geschichte der Österreichisch-Ungarischen Monarchie.”31 In its execution, it was in many ways very successful, especially its ambition to combine the accomplishments of the imperial state with those of the nationalities it included is laudable. Its focus on the period 1848–1918 as the period in which “the problems of the multinational state came to full fruition”32 is something which could still function as the motivation for further research, for instance of the type that I am suggesting in the present article. Nevertheless, one should note that even this flagship of Habsburg historiography is marked by the influence of national historiography, although in a complex sense that reminds one of recurring historical patterns rather than of ethnicist or nationalist historiography. Somewhat simplified, Austrian Habsburg historiography could be said to represent (or even has a monopoly on) the 29

ÖAW Archiv/Geschichte der Österr.-Ung. Monarchie, Zl.1519/63, Memorandum betref­ fend das Forschungsprojekt der Kommission für die Geschichte der österreich-unga­ri­ schen Monarchie (1848–1918) in der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften (Die Österreich-Ungarische Monarchie und das Problem des übernationalen Staates. Studien zur Geschichte und Struktur eines Vielvölkerstaates). 30 Ibid., correspondence between Hugo Hantsch and Richard Meister in June 1963. 31 Ibid., Gutachten zu dem Projekt der Abfassung einer vergleichenden Kulturgeschichte des Donauraumes, 12 June 1968. 32 Ibid., Zl.1519/63 (see note 29 above).

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perspective of the centre.33 Furthermore, Hungarian historiography is a partner with Austria in scholarly cooperative ventures on the Dual Monarchy and replicates the relationship between the centre (Budapest) and the “nationa­ lity”-regions in the old Kingdom of Hungary. Lastly, Czech historiography is obsessed with Czech national history and with the conflict with both German nationalism and the imperial centre of Vienna. This pattern seems vaguely familiar from history – the different national historiographies seem to repeat and reproduce patterns of conflict from the late Habsburg monarchy itself – and could probably be fleshed out (or disproved) by proper comparative historiographical research (in the sense of studies of the writing of history) on the national historiographies of Habsburg Central Europe. Furthermore, the underlying, quasi-political aim of the Habsburg Commission – to internationally spread a more “correct” and “favourable view” of the Habsburg Monarchy – must also be seen in the context of the widespread image of the Habsburg Monarchy as a “prison of nations”, an enemy of democracy, and of progress in general. This was an image built up by nationalists within the Monarchy itself and by Western journalists already during the period before 1914. It was reinforced during the war through Entente propaganda work and the clash between internal political repression and nationalist opposition within the Monarchy, and, finally, it was consolidated through the peace conference in Paris and in the national self-­legitimization of the successor states in the inter-war era and after.34 Revisionist Habsburg historiography has successfully questioned this image in later decades, showing that state and society in the complex Habsburg Monarchy developed dynamically with the times rather than antagonistically against them, as it was perceived in the older view of the Monarchy.35 However, with a few exceptions, the newer Habsburg historiography has not really had an impact on textbooks on Central European and European history. Neither has it fundamentally influenced the historiography of the successor states on the Monarchy, which, to a large extent, remain imprisoned in their respective national historiographies, as discussed above. 33

This self-perception of the Habsburg Commission is apparent in ibid., Gutachten zu dem Projekt der Abfassung einer vergleichenden Kulturgeschichte des Donauraumes (see note 31 above). 34 On this general historiographical problem, see John Deak’s essay in this volume. See also Deak 2014 and Judson 2016a. See as well Angerer 1991 and Schuster 1970 on the negative Habsburg image constructed by Western journalists, and Cornwall 2000 on the front propaganda during the World War. 35 On this, see foremost Cohen 1998, 2007, 2013 and Judson 2016a and the historiography discussed there.

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As my brief outline above on the problem of national and Habsburg historiography indicates, I believe that the problem of the latter is much more complex than that of “ethnicist historiography”, which is clearly part of the complicated patterns reproduced in the scholarship on the late Habsburg Monarchy, however. One could, perhaps, resort to the more general term “methodological nationalism” to tackle the problem, at least in so far as this term also takes into account the tendency to write the history of modern nation-states backwards into history, into periods when these states did not exist. For Habsburg historiography, this latter aspect is the most problematical. That the field, in practical terms, is fundamentally conceptualized as the pre-history of a number of nation-states is devastating for the prospect of conducting ground-breaking research and opening up new perspectives on specifically this crucial, no longer existing political entity in the history of modern Europe.36 In this way, the dominance of nation-state centred historiography in East-Central Europe undermines the foundation for a proper Habsburg historiography. Habsburg history could possibly be approached through fashionable perspectives such as transnational history, although I personally do not believe that would mean any great progress for the field. In my view, it would only contribute to the general reinforcement of national categories in the research on an imperial state that patently was on a quite different developmental path. Rather, I believe Habsburg historiography is hampered by its missing central perspective – the perspective of the Habsburg imperial state itself. With “central perspective”, I do not mean the perspective from Vienna (or Budapest). Instead, I mean the perspective from the state and imperial institutions and the bureaucracy on all levels – that is, to approach Habsburg society more systematically from the perspective of, or with regard to the institutional framework that actually existed at the time, meaning, for instance, that not least the large interface of the local state administration37 with society in all parts of the Monarchy – should be brought into the centre of our attention and viewed comprehensively. This central perspective was, of course, irrevocably erased from history in 1918. However, it could possibly be reconstructed, or simulated, for research purposes. The foundation for such a reconstruction would quite clearly necessitate an expansion of basic research on the state and the administrative system within the Habsburg Monarchy. Only by such

36

For a recent attempt to escape this trap, while still writing the history of a specific region over time, in this case the Republic of Austria, see Winkelbauer 2015. 37 On this, see the contribution by Andrea Pokludová in this volume.

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means, I would suggest, will we be able to frame and conceptualize historical inquiries in a form that would truly be a Habsburg historiography. National Indifference The central perspective of the state is, not least, helpful in order to create a symmetry in the study of the complex society of Habsburg Central Europe. This would make it possible not to habitually approach this society as one ripped apart by ethnic conflicts pointing forward to the coming national states, but as a subject of study in itself. It would also facilitate a comprehensive perspective on Habsburg society, something that has largely eluded scholars so far.38 Nevertheless, there is a growing body of research in the field of Habsburg studies that approaches the specific qualities of this society, with an accompanying search for new concepts and terms to decipher these qualities (such as national indifference, pluriculturality, the Habsburg multicultural experience, cultural transfer, cultural commonalities). I will take under consideration this body of research with regard to the central perspective of the Habsburg imperial state in this section and the following, arguing that it is important to consider these issues in relation to the institutional framework of the Habsburg Monarchy. One of these concepts launched to explicate the peculiar qualities of Habsburg society is the analytical category of “national indifference”. This concept is interrelated with that of “ethnicist historiography” since it deals with the prevalence of national identity as an analytical category in much historical research, and “national indifference” is proposed as a way to reduce the dominating role of this category by systematically looking at its opposite. National indifference was originally coined as an analytical term by Judson in his study of the struggles on the linguistic borderlands of Imperial Austria. Judson used it and the term national flexibility interchangeably to address the complicated patterns of language use and national identification – or the pragmatic switching of such identifications or even the apparent lack thereof – in the areas where German speakers and speakers of Slav languages intermingled.39 The concept was prominently picked up by Tara Zahra shortly afterwards in a study on the struggle for the determination of the national identity of school children in Bohemia and Moravia in the first half of the twentieth century, and it was later developed as an analytical category in her article “Imagined Noncommunities: National Indifference as a 38

However, see the argument in Cohen 1998, 2007, 2013, and further research cited below in the last section. 39 Judson 2006.

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Category of Analysis”.40 Stourzh addressed this concept in the same article where he discussed King’s arguments on ethnicist historiography, linking his criticism of these two interrelated concepts and describing their adherents as a “new school of historians” of Late Imperial Austria.41 Judson has later affirmed his view on the usefulness of the concept of “national indifference” for the study of multilingual Habsburg Central Europe – as well as affirming the continuing relevance of the term ethnicist historiography.42 However, in his new history of the Habsburg Monarchy, he has also, to a degree, assimilated the critique delivered by Stourzh.43 But in my view, this endpoint of the debate can only be provisional, and I want to add a perspective to the debate which could reframe the discussion and possibly open up new vistas for research. I would argue, that shifting from a national perspective to the central perspective of the state institutions may contribute significantly to our understanding of the conditions that gave rise to, and reproduced the social phenomenon described by the concept of national indifference. Already while propounding the concept, Zahra discusses some of its potential weaknesses. Among these are the risk that “indifference” carries pejorative connotations and that the combination into “national indifference” turns it into a negative and a nationalist category. Indeed, as Zahra also notes, the term was used in a derogatory manner by the nationalists themselves to label those “hermaphrodites” and “amphibians” who “refused” to take sides in the nationalist struggles.44 Stourzh further adds to the critique against the concept by noting that Zahra uses it to capture several different behaviours, which should be kept apart in analysis. He therefore proposes using several different concepts – such as “national non-commitment”, “national flexibility” and “anti-nationalism” – to capture different types of behaviour subsumed under Zahra’s concept.45 I view as the primary problem of the concept, that it is dependent on the concept of national identity or identification and that it, consequently, is a derivative concept that in practical terms focuses our analytical endeavours on identifying the absence of national identification. Furthermore, the term “indifference” tends to absolutize our analysis into looking for absolute absence of national identification. Zahra writes about how historians’ focus on the imagined community of the nation has “inadvertently made them blind to individuals who remained altogether 40 41 42 43 44 45

Zahra 2008, 2010. Stourzh 2011, 296. Judson 2014, 2016b. Judson 2016a, esp 273–275. Zahra 2010, esp 98, 105–106. Stourzh 2011, 300–303.

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aloof to the nation’s appeal.”46 But in my view, this “altogether aloof” presents a problem. Imperial Austrian society was, in certain respects, strongly affected by nationalist conflicts, which were difficult to keep aloof from. Though mostly acted out on the political stages, they were, in the decades before 1914, sometimes conducted as serious street fighting and vandalism unleashed by political events, for instance during the Badeni crisis of 189747 and ensuing years. In his recent critical discussion of “ethnicist historiography” and “national indifference”, Stourzh has again emphasized that nationalist activists organized growing segments of civil society along national lines and engaged in a struggle for state resources and the right to appoint national candidates as civil servants on local, provincial and central levels.48 This is a familiar story in the rich scholarship on nationalist conflict in the Habsburg Monarchy. For instance, Křen has described how the German and Czech national movements increasingly dominated both the politics and society of Bohemia in manifold ways and that the conflict spilled over into the central political institutions and periodically paralyzed the effectiveness of government in Imperial Austria in the decades before 1914.49 In my view, the best way to decipher what we see in much new research on the Habsburg Monarchy is not to look primarily for expressions of “aloofness to the nation’s appeal”. I believe that gives too much weight to national identity in our thinking. However, we should take the category of national indifference under renewed consideration and try to see what role it can play in our understanding of the complex Habsburg society. For instance, in his criticism of Zahra’s conceptualization, Stourzh argues that the issue of switching identification necessitates multilingualism, because there is no such thing as “linguistic indifference”. Therefore, “national indifference” can only appear in those areas where several languages were prevalent, and they were in the relative minority in the Habsburg Monarchy at large.50 This is, in my view, the type of mixing up language use and group solidarity that ­Judson and King have warned us about. To the extent that there were nationally indifferent people in Habsburg society, they were probably just as common in monolingual areas as they were in the multilingual border zones and in the multilingual larger cities marked by the strong labour migration during the period under discussion. We would probably be as justified in extrapolating 46

Zahra 2010, 96. 47 See Sutter 1960–1965. 48 Stourzh 2011, 293–296. 49 50

Křen 1996. On this, see also the contribution by Martin Klečacký in this volume. Stourzh 2011, 303–306.

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the findings from these “borderlands” and large cities on to the wider context of Habsburg Central European society as a whole as to draw the conclusion that the empirical findings in the borderlands and in the large cities are the only cases to be found. I believe that the main difference is simply that in the linguistic borderlands and cities these matters are easier to observe. Such a widening of the perspective would somewhat dislodge “national indifference” from its dependence on national identity. Further, it would allow us to use it as a positive concept that directs our attention to the phenomenon of groups of people that oriented their self-understanding by other means than national identification. Important to note about national indifference is that it was not only an abusive term used by nationalists to castigate those who did not firmly identify themselves as belonging to a nation. Rather, it was also a self-description by individuals who wanted to signal loyalty to a-national Imperial Austria. These were not people hounded by nationalists for their “opportunism” in switching identifications. In many cases, they were self-conscious members of the Imperial Austrian elite who demonstrably distanced themselves from national identification in service to a state that built on other foundations than national ones. In conclusion, I maintain that the analytical category “national indifference” is problematic in several ways. However, national indifference can in my view still be useful as a heuristic device to guide research on Habsburg society into new areas, and it allows us to see things that we, perhaps, did not see when working too unreflexively with national categories as the basic analytical framework – it serves to remind us of the traditional analytical dependence on national categories in Habsburg historiography. Nevertheless, looking for national indifference only lets us see scraps of the larger picture. The main thrust should be to find perspectives that make visible and comprehensible the full mélange of identifications and loyalties. Fortunately, all scholars involved in the debate discussed here have completed studies of exactly the type needed to further this aim.51 These studies of specific 51

Judson 2006, King 2002, Zahra 2008 are studies that go deep into the empirical substance matter of national flexibility and overlapping and shifting identifications. Cohen 1981 must be seen as the original work of this type. Stourzh 1985 is a ground-breaking study in the intersection between the state institutional framework regulating the equality of languages in Imperial Austrian society and individuals in society and national movements laying claim to their identities. See also Stourzh 1994, 1996, 2011, as well as Brix 1982 and Burger 1995. Stourzh 1985 was originally published in Wandruszka & Urbanitsch 1980 (vol. 3 of Die Habsburgermonarchie 1973–2018: Die Völker des Reiches), and it can be viewed as an outflow of the endeavor to grasp the problem of the multinational state set as an aim by the Habsburg Commission. Stourzh’s research on this topic corresponds strongly to one of the crucial fields of study pointed out by its

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environments or situations in late Imperial Austrian society go into great detail in reconstructing the complex practices of flexible identification and multi-layered and situationally shifting loyalties; some also explicate the role of the state and its institutional framework in these complex processes. That these same scholars have become embroiled in a debate that so completely revolves around the category of national identity (and its negative correlate national indifference) is a sign of how deeply influenced the field is by ethnicist perspectives. In one of the chapters of Judson’s book on the nationalist struggles on the language frontiers of late Imperial Austria, the contours of a triangular relationship between the state administration, individuals in society and the national movements become discernible. As seen from the perspective of the state authorities, the “struggle between nationalist activists” is reframed. It can be seen as a sort of theatrical staging of petty village conflicts as “nationalist struggles” and in the reports of the nationalist press as an expansion into conflicts having to do with “the survival of the nation” and the “nationally acquired rights” (nationaler Besitzstand). In the documentation of the local state authorities, the posturing of nationalists is exposed for what it is – ordinary village brawls, or even less, that are dramatized by local national activists and the nationalist press in order to appear as what they are patently not, that is, serious confrontations between the adherents of different nations over matters that are of major importance for large groups of people.52 Judson’s book seems to suggest that it could be fruitful to study the local state administration in its interaction with the autonomous municipalities and with local society to contextualize and relativize the picture of the villages and towns nationalists have supplied us with for a hundred years and more. Such a systematic decentering of nationalist perspectives may help to produce a more variegated view of Habsburg society. This decentering of established perspectives needs to be housed in a comprehensive view of the peculiarities of Habsburg society. These peculiarities not only encompass national identification and activism, as well as national indifference, but, more importantly, also everything that lies in between. Zahra uses a strange term in her article on national indifference, when she speaks of “imagined noncommunities”. As far as I can see, the nationally indifferent were only imagined as a non-community by the nationalists, who chairman Hugo Hantsch in a presentation in the Austrian Academy of Sciences in 1960, see Hantsch 1960, 73 (nr. 9 in his enumeration of central topics of a coming Habsburg Commission). 52 Judson 2006, 177–218.

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wanted to divide society completely into national categories. The nationally indifferent themselves also had positive identifications and loyalties, of course, even if they were not national. The question is what these identifications were. The established teleological view of these things says that they may have been older identifications – regional and local identifications, or the identification with the emperor and dynasty, or with a religion – but that these were increasingly outmoded and replaced with the new identification with the nation. There is a certain laziness involved in this teleology, which is underpinned by the issues I have addressed in this article: that of national historiography and the power of national categories of analysis over our thinking. Ultimately, Zahra’s term “imagined noncommunities” is looking for its positive correlate: the explanation for the relative failure of nationalism in Habsburg society before 1914. The search for this explanation necessitates a detour over the formation of the state in the Monarchy and into the multicultural experience of Habsburg Central Europe; moreover, it requires a look at its pluricultural character, not least evident in its large cities. The State and Habsburg Central European Society Modern Central European historiography relays the general impression that today’s national states have been there for ages. Hungarian historiography writes the history of the Magyar nation state back into the Middle Ages, while Czech historiography writes that of the Czech (Bohemian) Kingdom with a similarly long history. The problem with this view of history becomes somewhat discernible when examining the corresponding Slovak variety, which tries hard to find the long, millennial history of its state, but only succeeds to a degree. As a consequence, when future historians consider the national history writing of this type, they will probably view it much as we today regard the history writing of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when the construction of long fictitious regent lengths, reaching back to Aeneas or some other ancient hero was the way to create legitimacy for a dynasty. Although this striving to write the long history of the nation seems to be a general feature of modern national historiography, and not something peculiar to Central Europe,53 it creates special difficulties for historical inquiries into a large and complex state that encompassed much of this part of Europe and that ceased to exist in 1918. When the territories, institutions and population of this area were divided up between several new or already existing states, so was its history, one might say. When piecing together this history, I would suggest that the most passable route is to begin by ­piecing 53

See for instance Berger et al. 1999 and Berger 2007.

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together the institutions of the imperial state that governed this part of Europe up to 1918 and to start viewing them as one institutional framework. To facilitate a comprehensive perspective on Habsburg history, the point of entrance I suggest is a focus on the institutional framework of the Habsburg imperial state. The core process here was the formation of the Rechtsstaat and its expansion over an extended period. The development of the rule of law started early in the Habsburg Monarchy, finding its origins in the Theresian-Josephinian period (1740–1790). The result was a special Josephine “culture of law” in which legality and the following of legal procedure were made into beacons of both rulers and civil servants up until the end of the Monarchy (and beyond). In the Hungarian part of the Monarchy, this culture was also strong, but as a fusion of a special Hungarian tradition of constitutional law and the later Josephine superimposition on this tradition. In the Dual Monarchy (after 1867), the Hungarian tradition of constitutional law was increasingly influenced by Magyar nationalism. However, in the Austrian part of the Monarchy, this “culture of law” was developed and refined all the way up to 1914. The last decades of the Monarchy saw both several important reforms of the different sub-fields of Austrian law and, most importantly, the establishment of a strong framework of central Austrian administrative and constitutional courts (Verwaltungsgerichtshof, Staatsgerichtshof and Reichsgericht) as supervising organs that should ensure the constitutionality and legality of Imperial Austrian government and administration. That these crucial aspects and whole sections of the legal system survived for several decades in the successor states of the Monarchy indicates that this system of law suffused Central European Habsburg society.54 The development of the Rechtsstaat was the core process of the growth of an institutional framework that gradually came to frame the whole of this part of Central Europe. The institutional framework of the Habsburg imperial state was formed in a several hundred-year-long history, which needs to be approached forwards, so to speak, and with a certain suspension of the knowledge that it ceased to exist in 1918. The most interesting part of this history is the period

54

See primarily Wandruszka & Urbanitsch 1975, and especially therein, Sarlós 1975, Ogris 1975, and Lehne 1975. See also Shedel 2001 on the importance and persistence of the Rechtsstaat, and Slapnicka 1973 on the persistence of the Austrian legal system after 1918. See Cieger 2016 on the tendency in Hungary to assimilate the “culture of law” to Hungarian nationalism. See here also the argument in Cohen 2013, and Cohen’s contribution to this volume.

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1848–1914,55 at least if you are aiming to study the multinational state, its structure and organization in its collision with the onset of the strong currents of modernization of economy and society that occurred in exactly this period.56 During this time-period, the problems of this state, as well as its responses, developed fully and can be most fruitfully studied. At the beginning of the period, the Monarchy went through a very forceful modernization of its institutional framework. During the 1850s, a broad reform project was conducted with the dual aim of “integration and modernization” of the imperial state, as Helmut Rumpler recently put it.57 In a bustle of state activity, economic and educational reforms were carried out, the legal system was overhauled and unified, and the state administration was rebuilt in a comprehensive fashion, thereby removing many socially retarding features in the process. The railway network was expanded with the aim to tie together the different parts of this large realm more efficiently. Feudalism was abolished and a broad land reform was carried out with state support. Internal customs and other barriers to economic activity were removed, and commercial law was reformed and homogenized for the whole economic area. The educational system was rebuilt in a large reform action, thus making primary and secondary schooling accessible for larger parts of the population, while the school and university systems as such were reformed, with regard to form and content, and realigned to one another. The Austrian civil code was implemented throughout the whole empire, and oral court procedure was introduced. The judicial system was reformed and homogenized. The state administration was reconstructed to replace seigneurial jurisdiction and administration on the local level, and the whole administrative system was expanded, rebuilt and reformed from top to bottom, as well as made uniform throughout the empire. These reformers were “laying the foundations for a Liberal Empire.”58 The problem for historiography with this reform project is that though it departed in the Liberal revolution of 1848, and thus took on many liberal and modernizing features, it politically soon turned in an absolutist direction. 55

The years 1914–1918 fall outside this period, due to the profound influence that the war exercised on the administrative system of the Habsburg Monarchy. For a glimpse of these influences, see Heiko Brendel’s contribution to this volume. See also Deák 2014. 56 This was the way the Habsburg Commission described the period it chose for its work, see ÖAW Archiv/Geschichte der Österr.-Ung. Monarchie, Zl.1519/63 (note 29 above). 57 Rumpler 2014. 58 Quotation from Judson 2016a, 221. For other important research on this period, see ­Berger Waldenegg 2002, Brandt 1978, Deák 2008, Heindl 2014, Rumpler 2014, ­ eiderer 2015, and Deak 2015, 99–135. S

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The whole period, with the exception of 1848/49, is known as “Neo-Absolutism,” a term that has for a long time made this period appear foremost as backward-looking. However, it is now increasingly reassessed for its strongly modernizing effects on society and institutions in the Habsburg Monarchy.59 Initially, the reform project also contained the embryo to a “constitutional empire”, with a constituent legislative assembly working to introduce democratic and parliamentarian features into the political system. While these aspects were gradually removed in the reaction starting in 1849, the process contributed to introducing and partly incorporating progressive elements into the institutional political framework, and it familiarized both the state elite and the population with constitutional ways of thinking,60 thereby preparing the ground for lasting reforms of this type in the 1860s. Taken together, the period is increasingly appreciated as having laid the ground for the development of the economically-flowering and socially-progressive constitutional state(s) that could be observed during the last half-century of the Habsburg Monarchy. I believe that the period in question (the 1850s) was crucial for the evolving of a modern, culturally and linguistically complex society in the following period, which went against the grain of the nation-state ideal. The reform project was, indeed, propelled by the aim to homogenize the imperial state politically and to counteract the divisive nationalisms. Therefore, the suggested outcome may in itself be seen as a measure of its relative success. However, the failure was perhaps more visible, especially so in historio­ graphy, which has emphasized the ultimate victory of nationalism over this attempt to integrate the imperial state. Nevertheless, the aim of the reform project to amalgamate the nationalities by forming institutions in such a way that mobility and multilingualism were furthered was a very interesting feature that has received too little attention in scholarship. The aim was not to nationalize the population, as was the case in many nation-states of this period, but to meld them into one social body, into one society.61 Indeed, in a perceptive remark, Judson has observed that the starting point for the 59 See

Brandt 2014 for a reassessment of the period. For its strong modernizing thrust, see Deák 2008, Rumpler 2014 and Judson 2016a. 60 On this learning process, see the examples from the elite in Jonathan Kwan’s contribution to this volume. See also Judson 1996 and 1998. 61 This becomes most visible in the attempt to force a relatively backwards Hungary into the institutional matrix of this project. For very interesting observations on this tendency, see Deák 2008. Also, Seiderer 2015, on Minister of the Interior Alexander Bach’s turn from propagating nationally-based constitutionalism to actively trying to break up this basis and amalgamate nationalities through a sort of neo-corporative institutionalization.

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Habsburg Monarchy in this process of the creation of a modern “national” society was not that different from other European states: France, Italy, Spain, Britain were all characterized by a strong cultural and linguistic heterogeneity with elements of regional institutional traits that rebelled against “national homogenization”.62 It was, perhaps, more a question of degree; with the crucial difference being that the Habsburg Monarchy lacked one dominant language that could function as a basis for national integration and was therefore destined to become a multilingual “national state”.63 In any case, the period did end by a partial dismantling of this integration project, with accompanying nationalist reactions and a subsequent return to both historical regional political institutions and, more gradually, to viewing national groups as identifiable political components in the make-up of the imperial state. What the integration project left in place was a modernized institutional framework, which was only partly devolved into older forms in the Hungarian Kingdom, which in 1867 was turned into a basic structural component of the “Dual-Monarchy” Austria-Hungary. Indeed, historians of the institutions of the Hungarian Kingdom have noted that the reform project resulted in a major overhaul of the institutional framework of Hungary that laid the ground for its blossoming last half-century as part of the Habsburg Monarchy. Furthermore, there are strong arguments to keep a firm eye on the research on the Hungarian institutions, and especially on the bureaucracy, that have emphasized the relative continuity of the framework and its integration into an overall Habsburg administrative system after 1867.64 However, the integration of the Habsburg Monarchy did not commence with the neo-absolutist project of the 1850s. It had historical roots a hundred years back. The project of integrating and modernizing the imperial state began under Maria Theresia in the 1740s as a way to strengthen the Habsburg dominions in competition with other European states, not least with the dynamic Prussian Kingdom. This project was intensified under Joseph II in the 1780s, when the Habsburg imperial state went through its first phase of “integration and modernization” (Rumpler), one could say. The result was a fairly well integrated Central European Habsburg set of domin62

Judson 2016a, for instance 271. I here use the concept “national state” in the sense used by many state theorists: as a unified, modernizing state on the road to the rule of law and popular sovereignty. The concept as such lacks a cultural dimension: a notion of a “national identity” is often ­manifestly excluded from the concept. See for instance Tilly 1992. 64 See Barany 1975, Benedek 2010 and Deák 2008. On the social composition of the ­Hungarian central bureaucracy, see the contribution by Julia Bavouzet in this volume. On the judicial system in Hungary in the period 1848–1918, Sarlós 1975. 63

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ions in 1790, which in the following political storms were half rescinded again by Joseph II himself and his successors. The main retreat in this first project of “integration and modernization” was to return power and relative independence to the Hungarian Kingdom, something which was replicated in the 1860s after the second such main project of “integration and modernization” of the Habsburg imperial state. Thus, Hungary can be said to have demonstrated the general limitations of the whole aim to integrate and modernize the Habsburg lands according to some central plan. Moreover, the type of basic institutional elements constituted by the Hungarian Kingdom were replicated in the rest of the Monarchy to different degrees in the survival of provincial institutions that turned the relatively uniform Austrian dominions in the years after 1860 into a form that a prominent constitutional historian has termed “differentiated federalism”.65 After 1867, the Habsburg Monarchy may be labelled a constitutional “conglomerate state”66 with two central parliaments, one for Hungary and one for Austria,67 and with regional diets for the individual provinces of ­Austria and for Croatia. But while political participation was gradually expanded in Austria, with universal and equal male franchise introduced in 1907, the Hungarian parliament, elected with a sharply circumscribed franchise, remained an elite assembly until 1918. However, the constitutional state also developed other types of institutions to uphold the fundamental laws of the realm. In Austria, especially, the strong legalistic tradition of the Josephinist Rechtsstaat influenced the creation of supreme administrative and constitutional courts (Verwaltungsgerichtshof and Reichsgericht), which guarded the rights of the citizens laid down in the constitution and supervised that the state administration followed the laws and also developed prejudicial decisions on important aspects of government. For his ground-breaking work on the equality of the languages and nationalities in late Imperial 65

Brauneder 2000, 2009. I have borrowed this concept from Gustafsson 1998, who uses it in the context of early modern state formation. 67 Only in 1915, Austria became the official designation for the western half of the Habsburg Monarchy as it was created in the compromise of 1867, while the official term used until then was “Die im Reichsrat vertretenen Königreiche und Länder”. Still, this Reichsrat, the central parliament of the Western half, continued even after 1867 to publish its m ­ inutes as those of the “Austrian Reichsrat”. After 1867, all strictly Hungarian institutions were labeled k.u. (königlich ungarisch), the “Austrian” k.k. (kaiserlich-königlich), and only the joint institutions k.u.k. (kaiserlich und königlich). As a way out of this dilemma that “Austria” had no official name, commonly it was referred to as Cisleithania as opposed to Transleithania (for the Hungarian lands), named after the border river Leitha east of Vienna. Still, I will here use the term Austria for the Western part of the Monarchy after 1867. 66

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Austria, Stourzh examined the decisions of these courts on issues r­ egarding article 19 of the constitution, establishing the equality of all officially ­recognized (landesübliche) languages in the school system, as well as in the judicial and state administrative spheres.68 Furthermore, in Austria there was also a state-led policy of building an educational system that should meet these high standards of equality between languages. Hannelore Burger has emphasized that although there were intensive conflicts between nationalists over the school system, the state administration had a mediating ­influence and always tried to counteract one-sided decisions by the autonomous municipalities about language use and minority schools and, furthermore, it maintained a strict objectivity in the handling of administrative regulations with regard to the equality of languages in the school system throughout the period.69 Imperial Austria thus developed a strong institutional framework for maintaining a multilingual state and society during the period of economic and social modernization of Central Europe in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. In Austria, the institutional framework continued to support the type of multilingual, culturally “melded” society that had been furthered by the reform project of the unitary imperial state during the 1850s. The strong current of nationalism that flowed through this framework in the last decades of the Habsburg Monarchy created intense pressures that led to a mutual transformation of institutions and society into something that could be called a multilingual “national state”, gradually developing a ­tendency towards introducing political rights for language-based “nationalities” within this overarching “national state”. The Hungarian constitutional state of the same period is, in comparison, usually regarded quite critically for not keeping the same high standard of the rule of law in its equally linguistically and culturally complex territory. In Hungary, there was also an embryonic institutional framework to support its multilingual society. The Nationalities Law of 1868 guaranteed a relatively wide sphere of use of the minority languages of the Kingdom, that is all languages except Hungarian. However, the Hungary of the Dual Monarchy had Hungarian as its official language. Hungary was declared a Hungarian-speaking “political nation”, and all other tongues were designated minority languages.70 As the Nationalities Law was never followed by implementing regulations, Hungarian gradually became more and more dominant in 68

Stourzh 1985. Burger 1995. 70 The sole exception was Croatia which kept its autonomous status under the HungarianCroatian sub-compromise (Nagodba) of 1868. 69

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the public sphere and in administration. Only in 1896 was an administrative court implemented in Hungary, but it was given a much narrower field of operation than in Austria.71 The relatively generous school system of the 1850s and 1860s was also rebuilt, and, as a result, made less accommodating for non-Hungarian speakers. However, under the surface this nationalizing state also framed a society that remained strongly multilingual and with a fairly large proportion of people having the same kind of ambivalent or multivalent identities that could be found in Austria.72 If nationalism has been the dominating line of research into the history of the Habsburg Monarchy for the hundred years that have passed since the dissolution of this entity, the last few years have seen a strong growth in research focusing on the other side of the equation: the strongly multilingual, ­pluricultural, and internally mobile – both socially and geographically – society of “Habsburg Central Europe”, as it was labelled by a group of scholars drawn together by Gary Cohen and Johannes Feichtinger, who recently examined the special qualities of this part of Europe.73 Moritz Csáky, one of these scholars, has contributed the most regarding focusing our attention on the qualities of Habsburg society that the nationalists had so much problem coping with, as Zahra and others have emphasized. The “amphibians” and “hermaphrodites”, to speak nationalist tongue, were not easy to nationalize, perhaps due to the very fact, as Csáky’s research indicates, that they were produced in such great numbers by the very forces of modernization that nationalism was a reaction against. Csáky’s point of departure is the strong economic modernization of the Central European economic area shaped in the mid-nineteenth century, a process that took place from this time up to 1914 (and beyond). Csáky points out the strong internal migrations that occurred within this area, that is, a region that already at the outset had a marked “endogenous plurality”.74 This character was further reinforced when people from different parts of the area, speaking different languages and having different religious and cultural habits, were thrown together in the rapidly growing large cities. In Paris only 6.3% of the population in 1900 were not born in the city, while in Vienna the newcomers constituted more than 50% of the population, according to Csáky. Out of a population of 1.7 million, Vienna had 500,000 immigrants from the Bohemian lands (75% of which from the Czech-speaking areas), 140,000 from 71 See

Gogolák 1980. For an interesting look into the peripheral, culturally and linguistically mixed provinces of Hungary, see the recent work by Nemes 2016. See also Puttkamer 2003. 73 Feichtinger & Cohen 2014. 74 Csáky 2014, 189. 72

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Hungary, and around 100,000 from the north-eastern lands of Galicia and Bukovina, meaning that a substantial proportion of the population of Vienna had another first language than German at this point in time. In Budapest 39% of the population of 500,000 (in 1890) had been born in the city, while 52% had immigrated from the different corners of the ethnically and linguistically heterogeneous Kingdom, Csáky observes.75 Csáky does not ignore the other side of the coin – that this type of strong migration currents and throwing together of people with different languages and from different cultural backgrounds also fuelled conflicts and gave nationalists material to work with. A special value of Csáky’s approach is that it highlights the historiographical problem I have focused above. He concludes that most historiography since 1918 has completely missed out on the past reality that the nationalists desperately were trying to bend into national forms, and has instead retrospectively described and affirmed the goal that the nationalists had set themselves, and not the past reality as it appeared to those living it. Csáky argues that the most productive way to approach this past society is by focusing on the endogenous plurality of the region: Sie stellt sich dar in der seit Jahrhunderten nachweisbaren Vielfalt an Völkern, Volks­ gruppen, Kulturen, Religionen, Sprachen, Gebräuchen und Sitten, die hier bis in die Gegenwart sichtbar geblieben sind. Der Diskurs über diese pluralistische Verfasstheit der Region wird freilich, ohne dass man es sich eingesteht, überwiegend von einer einsei­tigen national-ideologischen Perspektive aus geführt, die den politischen Verfall dieser hetero­ genen Region als eine teleologische Notwendigkeit erscheinen lässt. Während die meisten ­Historiker des 20. Jahrhunderts überwiegend aus einem ‘Erfahrungshorizont’ argumen­ tieren, der den tatsächlichen ‘Zerfall’ dieser Pluralität vor Augen hat, befanden sich beispielsweise die Zeitgenossen des ausgehenden 19. Jahrhunderts in einem ‘Erwartungs­ horizont’, in dem neben der nationalen Position, die auf radikale Separationen setzte, auch andere Varianten, nämlich solche einer Kohabitation, Chancen auf Realisation hatten.76

Csáky makes an important appeal to read the history of this society “forwards” – out of its own special conditions and with a “horizon of expectation” that in 1900 saw a broad variety of possible futures – and not just the accidentally created succeeding “nation” states that changed the direc75

Csáky has written extensively on this theme, see esp. Csáky 2002, 2010, 2014. The numbers on the population of Vienna in 1900 differ depending on whether you count those who were “Heimatberechtigte” (with domicile) outside of Vienna or if you count only those not born in Vienna (in 1900 the first constituted 62% of the population and the second 54%). The missing 9% in the numbers for Budapest in 1890 is constituted by immigrants coming from outside of Hungary, see Csáky 2002, 38–39, and Csáky 2010, 133–137, 275–279. 76 Csáky 2002, 42–43.

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tion of Central European developments radically. However, he is also quite clear that the “horizon of expectation” of this society contained the whole spectrum of future possibilities, ranging from the “radical separation” of the nationalists to an imaginable future in which this society remained and was modernized and entered our age as a much more complex, multilingual, pluricultural “national state” with differentiated federalist traits. Csáky’s own focus, however, is firmly on this past social reality of multivalent identities, cultural collisions and fusions, as well as hybridizations. Moreover, he discusses this society in an impressively multifaceted way that places concepts such as “national indifference” as only a possibility among many in a complex pattern produced by the strong forces of what we may broadly term modernization. No less important is his focus on cultural transfer, meaning the spread of cultural artefacts or patterns between the languages and cultures of the region: a process that contributed considerably to creating cultural commonalities within the region without regard to differences in language.77 Cultural commonalities of the area of the Habsburg Monarchy were the subject of another impressive work published just recently. William Johnston’s survey of the research on what he labelled “Austria and Hungary as a cultural ecosystem” presents an overview of widely different and mutually independent examples of studies dealing with the “hidden commonalities” (Johnston) of this sunken world. Johnston identifies research on architectural, educational, literary, and cultural history, studies of intellectuals, theories of the importance of culturally complex societies for the growth of creativity, as collectively presenting a mutually reinforcing picture of the special qualities of Austro-Hungarian society in the decades around 1900.78 By bringing together analyses of the architecture of the region with theories on intellectual milieus and creativity and of commonalities between the multilingual literatures of the region with perspectives on the “Bildungsethik” prevalent throughout Habsburg Central Europe, Johnston is able to contextualize and broaden the findings of Csáky (whose research is part of Johnston’s survey) and present a tentative picture of the culture of the area. Johnston is also quite insistent that we need to view Hungary and Austria together when we investigate this cultural ecosystem. Research on Hungary and Austria respectively in this period communicates in a much too limited extent, he 77

Csáky especially focuses on musical culture and music theatre as a cultural commonality in Habsburg Central Europe, as he demonstrated in his inspiring work on “the ideology of the operetta and Viennese modernism”. See Csáky 1996. 78 Johnston 2015.

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remarks; and he demonstrates in his survey that the “hidden commonalities” appear quite easily if you only want to see them. Furthermore, Johnston ties this whole discussion into its evident background, the cultural historical research conducted in the 1970s to 1990s under the general label Fin-de-­ Siècle Vienna,79 and which constituted a first revival of interest in the special cultural conditions produced in Habsburg society. I have always found something missing from this latter image of an extremely dynamic culture centred on Vienna around 1900 – with its production of a unique mass of scientific, musical, literary, artistic and other cultural expressions – that has been approached from a multitude of angles for the last forty years without ever quite finding its form, or its “frame”. In his new study, Johnston maps the continuing and broadening research looking for the underlying patterns and explanations for this cultural and intellectual explosion that has been summarized by the (somewhat narrow) term Fin-de-Siècle Vienna. However, Johnston seems unwilling to see that the construction of representative architecture throughout Central Europe, the spread of a “Bildungsethik”, the communicating vessels of literary and musical traditions, patterns and forms, the explosive creativity of art and science, all have the common prerequisite of a mutual framework of educational and cultural institutions. Moreover, he misses the crucial fact that this common institutional framework was governed by the rule of law, which enclosed and upheld a multilingual, culturally variegated and internally mobile society in exactly this part of Central Europe during a period of strong socio-economic modernization.80 During the last two decades, Gary Cohen, with an impressive insistence, has advocated a perspective that aims to decentre national perspectives and establish a broader perspective on Habsburg society as something historians should try to view as one social body. He has concluded, “If one focuses too narrowly […] on the ethnic and national conflicts of the late nineteenth century and the dissolution of the monarchy, it is easy to ignore the development of relations between society and the imperial state and the actual character of loyalties to it.”81 His work on education and the middle classes 79

The term for this revival, which also resulted in a number of expositions in Vienna, ­Budapest and New York during foremost the 1980s, is taken from Carl Schorske’s classic work Fin-de-Siècle Vienna, see Schorske 1980. Johnston 1972 was part of this research with his path-breaking study The Austrian Mind. 80 Johnston demonstrates an aversion to the imperial bureaucracy which I believe ­hinders his perception in exactly this regard, see Johnston 1972, 2015. However, compare ­Johnston 2010. 81 Cohen 2013, 103. See also Cohen 1998, 2007.

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in late Imperial Austria is a pioneering example of the type of research into the interface, so to speak, between what I have called the institutional framework of the imperial Austrian state and Austrian society viewed as a whole, not as several component parts ready to disaggregate at any time. Furthermore, the focus of Cohen’s path-breaking study is on a central aspect of this institutional framework – the educational system – with a very broad interaction with society and with far-reaching effects on the mutually formative processes taking place in this interaction.82 Later, Cohen has increasingly focused on the general aspects of this interaction, especially alighting on the importance of citizenship in the constitutional state of late Imperial Austria: [A]s a matter of everyday reality, the practices of citizenship and compliance with the ­Austrian state’s web of laws, ordinances, administration, fiscal requirements, and military obligations constituted a loyalty to the state which went beyond personal respect for the emperor and which crossed the divisions of language, religion, national allegiance, and distinctive local or regional histories. In a political order where the populace had strong expectations about the rule of law and constitutional principles, the state which provided guarantees of law and order, personal security, and opportunities for representation could command a considerable degree of allegiance from much of the population, even despite the inequalities and lack of full democracy that persisted.83

Cohen thus advocates a perspective on Imperial Austrian, and in extension Habsburg society, which is the correlate of what I above have tentatively called the central perspective of the Habsburg imperial state. In his contribution to the present volume, Cohen has zoomed in his perspective on the interface, or hub, of the interaction discussed above, and he speaks of Austrian bureaucracy at the “nexus of state and society.”84 This move pinpoints the centrality of the bureaucracy and civil servants for our understanding of Habsburg Central Europe. Waltraud Heindl and Karl ­Megner have laid a firm ground of research on the Imperial Austrian bureaucracy in their mainly social historical studies into the Josephine Beamtentum from the late eighteenth century up to 1918.85 The administrative apparatus grew in twists and turns during the nineteenth century and was vitalized in the “integration and modernization” project (Rumpler) of the imperial state in the years 1849–1859 led by Interior Minister Alexander Bach; it was subsequently subordinated to the political institutions of the constitutional state after 1867. The civil servants developed an esprit de corps in this process 82

Cohen 1996. See also Cohen’s contribution to this volume. Cohen 2013, 116–117. 84 On the civil service as the interface between state and society, see also Peter Becker’s contribution to this volume. 85 Heindl 1990, 2006, 2013a, 2013b; Megner 1985, 2010. 83

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of both serving and guarding the constitution and laws and ordinances of the state.86 Culturally and socially, they cultivated an identity and a sort of class-consciousness of representing the essence of Austrianness and even of being a special “Austrian class”. Heindl has described the high bureaucracy in late imperial Vienna as “Josephine Mandarins”, that is, powerful keepers of the old order of Imperial Austria.87 The founding document for this corps of civil servants was the “pastoral letter” of Joseph II issued in 1783, describing the duties, responsibilities and role of the state servants.88 Joseph viewed himself as being the first state servant. Thus he may be seen to have initiated a process ranging over a hundred years, in which, in the words of John Deak, the “separation of crown and bureaucracy” gradually emerged.89 In this process, I would continue the argument, the Habsburg bureaucracy can be seen to have gradually emerged out if its role as the executive arm of the emperor and the dynasty and turned into, more or less, an autonomous organization working with the sole aim of serving (or governing, to use a more modern term) Habsburg society. In Imperial Austria, as described above, this bureaucracy grew into an institutional framework for society that guaranteed the rule of law and furthered the equality of languages in the interaction of the population with the state, thus functioning as the institutional support of a modernizing and democratizing multilingual, culturally, and religiously variegated and federally differentiated society. In Hungary, the picture was somewhat different. However, we should not underestimate the effect of Josephinism and the second wave of integration and modernization of the 1850s on the make-up and self-image of the Royal Hungarian central bureaucracy.90 Even if the situation differed in the two halves of the Monarchy during its last decades, I believe that we need to see that the Imperial and Royal civil services were the carriers of an institutional framework that was the prerequisite for the type of pluricultural society described by Csáky, that this institutional framework was the container and partly the producer of the cultural commonalities of the Austro-Hungarian ecosystem surveyed 86 See

Heindl 2006 for a good overview of this process. Heindl 2013b. See also Goldinger 1981. 88 The pastoral letter in Walter 1950, 123–132. 89 See Deak 2015 for the observation of this process over the long haul of Habsburg state-building from the late eighteenth to the early twentieth century. 90 On this see Barany 1975 and Deák 2008. See also the contributions in this volume by Julia Bavouzet and Judit Pál. Unfortunately, almost all of the newer research on the Hungarian bureaucracy has been published only in Hungarian. See the literature quoted by Bavouzet and Pál in this volume for a sense of the richness of the scholarship in the field. See also the overview of research into the Hungarian elite by Pál 2014. 87

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by Johnston, and that it constituted the underpinnings of what was labelled Habsburg Central Europe in the volume edited by Feichtinger and Cohen. At one point, Cohen turned to the question of how one should view the loyalty to the Imperial Rechtsstaat that he has found in Austrian society: “The growing engagement and indeed investment of individual citizens and ­societal interests in the institutions of the Austrian state structure, its legislative ­bodies, judicial processes, public services, and administrative apparatus surely sustained some level of loyalty to that state among diverse elements of the population.”91 Cohen judiciously proposes that such a presumed loyalty to the Austrian state may be seen as a “residual ‘real existing Austrian identity’, given the presumed absence of any positively freighted Austrian national identity.”92 In my own “political biographical” studies into the Imperial Austrian administrative, intellectual and artistic elites of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, I have gradually come to develop a perspective on the question posed by Cohen on how one should understand this loyalty. ­Borrowing from Robert Musil, I have described the imperial Austrian state as a “state without qualities” (Staat ohne Eigenschaften), insofar as its most apparent quality was the absence of any type of proscribed identity tied to the loyalty to this state. The loyalty was simply to the “transparent” institutional framework of the rule of law that had gradually freed itself of its monarchic character and had become an end in itself; that is, an autonomous institutional framework, “a system of law”, as one contemporary observer (Hans Kelsen) termed it. During the process of modernization, this development accidentally created an alternative to the dominant European nation state model: the multilingual, pluricultural, federally differentiated, democratizing “national state” resting firmly on the rule of law.93 Furthermore, borrowing from one scholar of Musil’s work, this institutional framework made it possible for individual citizens in Imperial Austria to shape their identities as “subjects without nation”,94 as subjects who had a degree of freedom to orient themselves in society without having a certain identity or cultural self-understanding prescribed for them, at least not by the state or its representatives, who were very powerful in society. As I see it, this role of the institutional framework in late Imperial Austria is what makes Marsha Rozenblit’s observation on the relatively wide freedom (in 91

Cohen 2013, 116. Cohen 2013, 104 93 Lindström 2004, 2008, 2015. 94 See Jonsson 2000. 92

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a comparative European perspective) for a Jewish identity in late Imperial Austria comprehensible. Rozenblit argues that there was a special situation in Austria in the last decades of the Monarchy where Jews could affirm their religious (or perhaps cultural) identity, while identifying politically with Austria, and simultaneously ascribe to a national identity (German, Czech, Polish etc.).95 I believe Rozenblit’s findings can be generalized to the whole society of late Imperial Austria. The Jews were, as so often, only the most visible and exposed group in society; therefore, they functioned as a sort of litmus test for the qualities of the institutional framework of the Austrian Rechtsstaat.96 Moreover, this is also the context in which the phenomenon of “national indifference” becomes comprehensible. Late Imperial Austria was not only the place where you could have “tripartite identities”, as R ­ ozenblit suggested, it was also the place where you could be nationally indifferent, because the institutional framework of the state supported nationally indifferent attitudes. At the core of this institutional framework were the central institutions guarding the constitutionality and legality of government in Austria, especially the supreme courts. One scholar of these institutions concluded that they contributed to making late Imperial Austria into a place where diversity was legally ensured: [Es scheint so,] als ob im Reichsgericht und im Verwaltungsgerichtshof des alten Öster­ reich institutionell und menschlich ein wesentlicher Dienst an der Idee der Einigung freier Vielfalt durch das Recht gewährleistet worden wäre. […] Der Gedanke, dass Gewalt durch neue Formen der Gerichtsbarkeit, die die Wirksamkeit der Verfassung und der Gesetze sichern, überflüssig werden soll, dass auch dem Einzelnen auf diese Weise die Möglich­keit zu einer Auseinandersetzung auf gleicher Basis mit dem Staate zu bieten ist, dass ferner die Gliedstaaten und das Ganze des Staates durch eine ihre Verhältnisse regelnde Gerichtsbarkeit so verbunden werden, dass die Konflikte friedlich und sinnvoll ausgetragen werden, fand vorbildliche Ausprägung.97

Unfortunately, Jürgen Habermas did not have access to such a perspective on late Imperial Austria and the Habsburg imperial state as presented here, when he wrote on constitutional patriotism and multiculturalism. His line of sight was obscured by the facades of national histories erected partly on the basis of the European master narrative of modernization, which tell us that European states modernized politically by joining national identity, the rule of law, and democracy. Habermas searched history for alternatives to nation95

Rozenblit 2001. On this problem, see also Cohen 2013, 115–116. This became exceedingly clear when the institutional framework disappeared. On this, see Gaisbauer 1988, 535–540, and Aly 2017 (especially chapter 5). 97 Lehne 1975, 714–715. 96

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alism while trying to devise a blueprint that could combine many different cultural groups in one institutional framework, in one state; to find solutions to the problems confronting European societies in the late twentieth century, under the pressures of migration movements, a revival of regional identities, and the integration into the supranational European Union. Since Habermas could not find any firm historical alternatives, he proceeded in a completely theoretical mode when proposing alternatives to the established nationalist solutions to these problems. However, I would suggest that the historical example of late Imperial Austria comes quite close to correspond to the ideal type devised by Habermas. Habermas’ point of departure is that the nationalist solution – ethnic-­ territorial secession – is never a workable solution since it only reproduces “the old problems […] under new banners”, when new minorities are created. I would add that the hundred-year-long aftermath of the Habsburg Monarchy demonstrates this point with excessive clarity. In general, ­Habermas asserts that group discrimination and conflicts can only be solved by creating an inclusive framework “that is sufficiently sensitive to the cultural background of individual and group-specific differences.” He then continues by pointing out the many ­different routes that are available to reach “the elusive goal of ‘­difference-sensitive’ inclusion,” among which can be found: federalist delegation of powers, a functionally specified transfer or decentralization of state competences, above all guarantees of cultural autonomy, group-specific rights, compensatory policies, and other arrangements for effectively protecting minorities.

At this point, Habermas’ ideal type starts to show a strong family resemblance to the actual development of the institutional framework in late ­Imperial Austria. Furthermore, Habermas emphasizes that such arrangements for the coexistence between ethnic, religious and language groups should not be attained at the cost of the fragmentation of society, with the risk of creating subcultures detached from a shared social and political context. Rather, it needs to be integrated through “the binding force of the ­common political ­culture.” This common political culture needs to remain strong so as “to prevent the nation of citizens from falling apart.” 98 One thing we can be quite sure of is that the robust institutional framework of late Imperial Austria matched the demands Habermas places on this ideal type quite well. It supplied a common constitutional and administrative framework that held together the different groups and regions of the ­Imperial Austrian state politically, which guaranteed the rule of law in a culturally, 98

Habermas 1999, 145–146.

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linguistically and religiously differentiated part of Europe. We can also be rather sure that the special mediating competences traditionally ascribed to the Josephine civil servant99 would have ensured a sufficient degree of pragmatic flexibility in finding the solutions to the emerging problems of European modernity that so far have largely eluded the societies of the continent. Nevertheless, we do need to know more about the workings of the state institutions and their interaction with society in that intensive last phase of the Habsburg Monarchy to get a better understanding of these things. This is why the state and its bureaucracy should be viewed as a key field of research in Habsburg studies and perhaps even for the understanding of European modernity as such.

99

On this, see Johnston 2010 and Heindl 2013b.

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The Austrian Bureaucracy at the Nexus of State and Society Gary B. Cohen Governmental officials in late Imperial Austria and its successor states were set apart by their professional qualifications, administrative duties, and social standing. Much can be learned about the officials’ history by treating them as a distinct corporate body with its own special recruitment, composition, and professional responsibilities. This essay will argue, however, that there is also much to be gained in understanding not only the officials’ lives and work experience but also the broader development of government and its relation to politics and society by examining the relationships of officials – and various groups of officials – to society and each other. Over the last three decades, a body of interesting new historical research has emerged about the changing character of governance, popular political action, and the relationship between government and society in Imperial Austria and its successor states, some of this work distinctly revisionist in its findings. Historical studies of the state officials and the civilian governmental employees of the crown lands and communes can contribute significantly to that developing body of research. Studies of the civilian governmental employees during the late imperial and early interwar eras can advance historical research regarding three themes that have emerged in recent research on the history of government, popular politics, and the relationship between state and society in the Austrian lands after the mid-nineteenth century. The first theme is a new understanding of Austrian governmental structures as having been much more dynamic and evolving than was recognized in the older historical narratives which typically posited a model of deficit and decay. Those accounts emphasized Imperial Austria’s retarded constitutional and parliamentary development and a growing political paralysis during the last decades before World War I that was punctuated by repeated crises – crises which in turn encouraged absolutist tendencies in the state officialdom. Nonetheless, despite the rigidity which the 1867 Compromise imposed on the constitutional arrangements between the Austrian and Hungarian halves of the monarchy, a num-

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ber of historians during the last thirty years have found evidence for dynamic processes of development between the 1860s and 1918 in the governmental structures of both Cisleithania and Transleithania.1 That perspective helps us understand the substantial continuities and positive legacy from the monarchy to the successor states with respect to administrative and legal structures and modes of political action. The second theme is the growing popular demand for new governmental services and the initiation of such services by the ministries, crown lands, and communal authorities over the second half of the nineteenth century and the first decades of the twentieth. The addition of new public services caused an increasing functional differentiation and stratification of the ­civilian govern­ mental employees. The growing differentiation of administrative positions and the increasing breadth and depth of the governmental officialdom is clear enough in the expansion of the Cisleithanian ministerial bureaucracy and its extensions into the crown lands through the offices of the governorates (Statthalterei or Landesregierung) and the county administrations (Bezirkshauptmannschaften). The growth of the officialdom is even more apparent if one also considers the public employees who staffed the autonomous administrations of the crown land diets and their executive committees (Landesausschüsse) and the communal governments (Gemeindeausschüsse, Stadträte), which also grew substantially from the 1860s to the 1920s. The Stadion law of 1849, the October Diploma of 1860, the Reichsgemeindegesetz of 1862, and other constitutional and legal reforms in the 1860s paved the way for a two-track (zweigleisig) governmental administration in Cisleithania. Such a system obliges historians to give balanced treatment to the officials of the autonomous crown land and communal ­bodies and the state officials in order to understand fully the development of governance and bureaucracy. The imperial state had primacy in what was a fundamentally centralized system, but the autonomy accorded to the crown land diets and their administrative organs and to the communal authorities allowed them important areas of responsibility, which only grew over time.2 In contrast, the Hungarian ruling elites from the 1870s to the end of the monarchy were determined to establish a unitary nation-state, and the central 1

2

For examples of the newer writing on government, law, administration, and the political system in the Austrian half of the Habsburg Monarchy, see Hye 1998; Stourzh 1985; Boyer 1981, 1995; Cohen 2007; Hanisch 1994; Judson 1996; and Rumpler & ­Urbanitsch 2000. On the autonomous authority of the Cisleithanian crown land diets and the communes, see Deak 2015, 86–94, 146–147, 154–160; Hellbling 1975; Hlavačka 2006; Klabouch 1975; and Stourzh 1985, 105–106.

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authorities in Budapest worked to impose strong ministerial authority over the counties and municipalities. Still, county and municipal officials in Hungary and Croatia had significant administrative responsibilities, so that they, too, deserve attention along with the ministerial officials in any historical treatment of governmental bureaucracy in Transleithania.3 Including in the discussion of the imperial Austrian bureaucracy the ­civilian employees of the crown lands and communal administrations raises questions about their evolving relations with the state officials and the ­citizenry. This issue of changing functional relationships leads to the third theme which has emerged from the new writing of the last thirty years about Habsburg government and society during the last decades before World War I. Historians have developed new understandings of the changing relationship of governmental authority to the citizenry as civil society grew steadily after the early 1860s with evolving political parties and interest group structures. In subsequent decades popular engagement in civil society generated growing democratizing pressures on government at all levels and an increasing penetration of civil society into the making of public policy across the whole monarchy, but to a greater extent in the Austrian crown lands than in Hungary. The advance of civil society and its supporting structures demanded a new responsiveness to interest groups, political parties, and the citizenry at large by governmental employees in the ministries, the crown land governments, and the communes. The Dynamism of Government and the Bureaucracy, 1848–1933 In Cisleithania between the 1890s and World War I, the growth in numbers of civilian governmental employees and in their cost attracted much notice among high government officials and the public. Waltraud Heindl has reported that in 1900 there were 65,415 officials in Austrian court, state, crown land, and district administrative offices. Drawing on the work of Karl Megner, she notes that all public employees in the Austrian crown lands numbered perhaps 336,000.4 Peter Urbanitsch has reckoned that between 1901 and 1911 the number of higher officials doubled in the central state offices and increased by 120 percent in the crown lands.5 It should be noted, though, that whenever one cites statistics for the state officials or governmental employees in general from the late nineteenth century, one must note 3 4 5

On the centralization of administration in Hungary, see Barany 1975, 422–446; and Péter 2000, 492–496. Heindl 2013b, 31. Urbanitsch 2008, 196, cited in Heindl 2013b, 33.

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the definition of official employment used in each case and which sectors of governmental service are included and excluded, since historians have not established any generally accepted criteria. When Austrian minister-president Ernest von Koerber and his ministerial colleagues took up the issue of administrative efficiency between 1900 and 1904, they looked critically at the growth in size and expenditures of the autonomous offices of the crown lands and communal governments. Eventually members of the Koerber government began drafting proposals to strengthen the state bureaucracy at the county (Bezirk) level and in the proposed new districts (Kreise). If these measures had been enacted, they would have significantly weakened the communes, the crown land diets, and their executive committees, which the ministerial officials saw as too much dominated by nationalist political parties.6 In 1911 the Administrative Reform Commission, which included several of Koerber’s former lieutenants, resumed the review of governmental administration. Guido von Haerdtl, a former department head and section chief in the Interior Ministry, pointed critically to an increase of nearly 200 percent in expenditures for the state administration between 1890 and 1911, due primarily to the addition of personnel.7 He calculated that the total cost of domestic administration had increased by 366 percent in that period.8 Koerber’s own efforts to expand the numbers of counties to make them more effective in dealing with the ­citizenry had only threatened to increase further the expenditures for that segment of the state administration, and budgetary restrictions impeded him. As Peter Becker points out, the changing relationship between the govern­ ment officialdom and society at the end of the nineteenth century was a major motivation for convening the commission and a frequent focus of its deliberations.9 Over the decades after 1860, as party politicians gained control of communal governments and won power in the executive committees of the crown land diets, various conservative, clerical, liberal, liberal nationalist, and agrarian parties achieved direct influence over administrative appointments in those autonomous spheres. One can argue that political parties’ direct and indirect patronage in governmental employment (e.g., the Polish conservatives in the Galician administration, the Christian Socials in the city of Vienna and Lower Austria, or Czech nationalists in the Prague m ­ unicipality) 6 See

Lindström 2004, 168–181. Boyer 1986, 177–178. 8 Deak 2014, 368. 9 See Becker below, 233–257. 7

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contributed to the growth in governmental employment in the autonomous communal and crown land administrative bodies. Political parties and interest groups also worked to influence the appointment and advancement of officials in the county administrations, governorates, and the ministries. Martin Klečacký’s research shows how parties also endeavored to influence judicial appointments.10 The emperor, ministers, and governors repeatedly asserted the principle that officials must not participate openly in partisan political activity and expected that appointments to state service be based on the indicated job qualifications. Nonetheless, in both the era of the parties of notables (Honoratiorenparteien) during the 1860s and 1870s and the subsequent era of mass politics and more elaborate party structures, the favor or disfavor of parties and powerful politicians could significantly affect the careers of individual k. k. state employees.11 It is worthy of further research to determine how much direct or indirect influence parties and interest groups exerted between the 1860s and the 1930s on employment in the county administrations, law courts, governorates, and ministries, compared to their impact on the autonomous communal and crown land administrations. A more fundamental cause of the growth in civilian governmental employment over the whole period than the patronage of parties and interest groups was the addition of new public services and functions to the duties of government. From the 1850s onward, governmental offices at all levels took a much more activist role than before 1848 in furthering economic development and in dealing with the social problems of an increasingly urbanized, industrial society. The new functions included the regulation of manufacturing and commerce, food and agricultural inspections, public transportation and health services, the licensing of professions and occupations, more specialized public education, and eventually new welfare services for the indigent and disabled, to name only some of the most salient examples. The addition of new government services and responsibilities accelerated significantly after the late 1880s and early 1890s, as modern capitalist agriculture and industry matured, metropolitan centers expanded, and various interests lobbied for more government intervention in social and economic affairs.12 The research of Tara Zahra and Ke-Chin Hsia has illustrated how 10 See

Klečacký below, 109–128. Heindl 2013b, 101–105; Boyer 1995, 28–39, 105–107, 140; Boyer 1986, 174–175. See the accounts of individual cases of how party influence could work in Kleinwächter 1947, 102–103; and Spitzmüller 1955, 70–75. I thank John W. Boyer for the latter two references. 12 Boyer 1994, 31–36; Cohen 1998, 53–54; Deak 2014, 367.

11

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non-governmental initiatives for child welfare after 1900 and for assistance to military veterans during and after World War I generated pressures for government to create new social services. In a number of cases governmental agencies took up functions initially provided by voluntary associations.13 The autonomous communal administrations and crown land executive committees assumed a particularly active role in these efforts. Episodes of obstruction or suspension of the Austrian parliament and several of the crown land diets became more frequent after the mid-1890s, but it was still possible for elected representative bodies to pass legislation and provide funding for new public services and for the ministries to issue ordinances to direct and regulate them. The growth of civilian governmental employment, the greater expertise needed in various offices, and the impact of the governmental employees on society and the political sphere must be understood in light of the growing array of functions and services which they provided. Drawing on statistics from Megner, Heindl has pointed to a generational change among the Austrian state employees around 1900, with sixty percent of the university-educated Konzeptsbeamten and nearly onethird of the lower-ranked Kanzlei- und Rechnungsbeamten coming new to governmental employment after 1900.14 The addition of many new governmental functions and services surely contributed significantly to the recruitment of so many new state employees between 1900 and 1914. The initiation of specialized new public services also put great pressure on the governmental bureaucracy to develop new expertise. As Becker discusses, issues of ­officials’ training and technical competence were a significant question in the deliberations of the Administrative Reform Commission in 1912.15 The Increasing Differentiation of Civilian Governmental Employees with the Growth of Public Services When one speaks about the Austrian state officialdom during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, one normally means first of all the employees with university education, typically in law and public administra­ tion, who worked in the upper middle and upper ranks of the state bureauc­ racy, be it the ministries, governorates, county administrations, or the ­various agencies subordinate to these bodies. These officials, after all, did much to constitute the public face of the state, and they exercised much of its ­administrative authority. Collective biographies and social analyses of 13

Zahra 2008, 49–105; Hsia 2013. Heindl 2013b, 160–161. 15 See Becker below, 251–255. 14

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the legally-educated civil servants in the Imperial Austrian administration must be primary elements of the current historical research agenda for the governmental employees. The upper ranks of governmental employment, which had university education among the prerequisites, and particularly the higher k. k. state officials certainly deserve close scholarly attention; but historians should not ignore the lower ranks of state employees nor the employees in the autonomous administrations of the crown lands and communes. Heindl devotes more attention to the higher ranks of state service than the other categories, but she does take note of the crown land and communal officials and points to some of the contrasts between the employees in the higher and lower ranks of governmental service. She also devotes a section of one chapter to the development of governmental employment for women, which before World War I was overwhelmingly in lower ranks and not in traditional bureaucratic positions.16 This circumstance owed much, of course, to the impediments women faced in earning a Matura and their inability to attain Austrian university diplomas and degrees before 1900 or even to matriculate in the law faculties until after World War I. The large numbers of governmental employees in lower ranked positions which did not require university education make a strong argument for ­giving those employees more scholarly attention than previously. The citizenry encountered such lower-rank employees frequently in their daily lives, and those functionaries carried significant responsibilities for keeping governmental services running. The journal Der Staatsbeamte reported for 1893, for instance, some 34,000 state administrative employees (including teachers in state employment). Somewhat less than half of these, 15,098, had university education, while nearly as many, 14,127, had only secondary school education. Fourteen percent of the total, 4,760, had only primary school education, most serving as clerical employees in offices.17 Questions of rank and of mobility between ranks are always important for understanding the structure and functioning of modern bureaucracies, and one would like to know how much mobility there was in the ranks of ­Austrian state service and between different branches of state service or between the autonomous communal or crown land administrations and state service. Did employees in the autonomous crown land services sometimes move to positions in the k. k. county administrations or the governorates or the reverse? Surely, employees of the various state agencies, particularly in 16

Heindl 2013b, 147–154. 17 See Megner 1985, 343–348

for an overview of the various statistics over time.

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the county administrations and the governorates, had considerable contact with the staff of the autonomous communal and crown land offices, even if there has been little study of such contacts. Some individuals with minimal formal education could, in fact, make tidy careers and attain some significant local respectability in the lower ranks of the state officialdom. This was most evident for many former soldiers.18 One can also cite the unfortunately well-known example of a minor customs official in the Upper Austrian border town, Braunau am Inn, during the years between 1871 and 1900, the strict and ill-tempered Alois Hitler, who had attended a Volksschule, joined the lower customs service of the Finance Ministry at age eighteen, and with some special professional training and certification eventually rose to the rank of customs inspector.19 In a case like this, some upward mobility was possible without more advanced formal education, but not much above the rank of customs inspector. Constitutional law and other legislation distinguished the autonomous communal and crown land administrations from that of the Imperial ­Austrian state. The autonomous bodies’ lines of responsibility led to the elected communal councils or the diets of the crown lands and then to the respective electorates rather than up to ministries and the emperor. The autonomous communal and crown land bodies also had revenue sources that were largely independent from those of the state offices and agencies. Still, in their everyday functioning and transactions, the autonomous administrations and state bureaucracy often complemented each other’s efforts and worked with each other. Individual citizens during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries probably had more everyday contact with employees of the autonomous communal and crown land administrations than with employees of the state. It is a commonplace to say that an understanding of the work and experience of civilian governmental employees must take into account their interactions with other government employees across ranks and in different areas of competence, but to now historians of Imperial Austria and the successor states paid only limited attention to this. The interactions of bureaucrats across ranks and agency boundaries, or across the boundaries between the state officialdom and the autonomous communal and crown land administrations were frequent and often significant for the work of the various authori18

An imperial decree of 19 December 1853 and a law of 19 April 1872 provided for discharged or retired non-commissioned officers and some common soldiers to receive ­positions in the state officialdom and crown land administrations. See Cole 2014, 124. 19 Kershaw 2008, 1–3.

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ties and what citizens experienced at their hands. Such interactions might be collaborative or in some instances even competitive or conflictual. The addition of so many new public services at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth, the significant responsibilities involved, and the considerable expenditures for them must have increased the interactions of different offices up and down the separate state, crown land, and communal administrations and between offices in the separate spheres. One can easily multiply examples of the transactions and frictions between the autonomous communal and crown land officials and the state administration. The educational reforms of the 1850s and 1860s, for e­ xample, assigned to Cisleithanian ministerial authorities the responsibilities to prescribe the curricula of state Gymnasien and to fund those schools. Nonetheless, communal governments and the crown lands were free to open additional ­Gymnasien with their own funds, get their curricula certified by the ministerial authorities, and then lobby, often with success, for these institutions to be added to the state budget. During the constitutional era, the crown lands initially had responsibility for funding and operating the Realschulen, but here, too, communal governments could open their own schools and then lobby to have them added to crown land or ministerial budgets.20 In the growing sector of public health services at the end of the nineteenth century, administrative and financial responsibilities were divided among the governorates in each crown land, the diets and their autonomous administration, and communal authorities. The establishment of major new public health facilities such as hospitals could easily require complicated political and administrative maneuvering. The Vienna municipal government’s creation of many new public services under Christian Social leadership between 1897 and World War I, for instance, involved much adroit negotiation among the various sectors of governmental administration and at times the ­deliberate playing off of different agencies against each other. The mayor of Vienna, Karl Lueger, outmaneuvered the Minister of Religious Affairs and Education Wilhelm Ritter von Hartel and the Vienna University medical faculty, for instance, in getting an inflated price from the Vienna hospital trust for the sale of city property adjacent to the General Hospital. With the proceeds, the city financed a new children’s hospital which it had committed in 1898 to build in Ottakring, a location initially opposed by the minister and the medical faculty. In 1902 at the ceremonial opening of the communal ­Kaiser Franz Joseph-Regierungs-Jubiläums-Kinderspital, Mayor Lueger, 20

On the politics of adding communally founded secondary schools to the budget of the Ministry of Education, see Cohen 1996, 67–68.

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never modest, boasted openly of his victory – and his sharp financial dealings – to the emperor and the chagrined governor of Lower Austria, Count Erich Kielmansegg, who supervised the hospital trust.21 Likewise, when a municipal government was determined to take steps opposed by the central government, an experienced governor such as Count (after 1911 Prince) Franz Thun-Hohenstein in Bohemia could negotiate with municipal officials and sometimes find enough allies to stop or at least deflect such action. In the last decades before 1914, Czech politicians in Prague regularly used the city government to conduct domestic and international public relations campaigns for Czech nationalist interests. The Prague aldermen’s commitment after January 1899 to construct a monument to Jan Hus opposite the Marian column on the Old Town Square offended the Catholic Church hierarchy, the emperor, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and a number of ministerial officials. In 1913 a city proposal to name a new bridge across the Vltava for Hus threatened to repeat the offense. Thun-Hohenstein, a conser­ vative Catholic aristocrat and veteran of many years’ service as governor, was thoroughly informed about Czech politics even if many Czech ­nationalists had little love for him. As Jan Galandauer has described it, Thun-Hohenstein worked behind the scenes with the mayor and the more moderate city aldermen to have the new bridge named for Archduke Franz Ferdinand instead of Hus.22 When that proposal came before the whole board of aldermen, even many of the dedicated nationalists believed they could not vote against it without risking a public insult to the imperial house. The Officialdom and the Changing Relationship of Governmental Authority with the Citizenry A highly important, but curiously neglected topic in the history of late Imperial Austria is citizenship. Scholars have produced only a few studies of the legal history of citizenship, the criteria for inclusion in the body of citizens, and the processes of naturalization. There has been little systematic historical treatment of the changing modes of how citizens related to govern­ ment and the state, the evolution of popular notions of citizens’ rights and their claims on governmental authority, or their actual loyalties to the state.23

21

Kielmansegg 1966, 74–76. Galandauer 1995. On the Hus monument in Prague, see Paces 2009, 21–36 and Sayer 1998, 138–140. On Thun-Hohenstein, see Galandauer 2014. 23 On the legal history of citizenship (Staatsbürgerschaft) in Imperial Austria, see Ulbrich 1909; and Burger 1999, 2000, and 2014. 22

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Historians‘ conventional emphasis on the inexorable growth of the contending nationalist loyalties after the 1840s leaves readers to conclude that there was little possibility in the late nineteenth century for any overarching Austrian national identity or any significant positive popular loyalty to the Austrian imperial polity. Conventional historical accounts presume that the great majority of the population and the political elites simply accepted the reality of that state and obeyed its laws, while the various national and classbased political formations competed ferociously with each other for greater advantages, privileges, and power. Historians have made only a beginning at examining just what happened to popular loyalties to the Habsburg state during the long nineteenth century. Jeremy King, in his influential study of Budweis (České Budějovice) in southern Bohemia, has argued that loyalty to the Austrian state continued as a significant, although changing, element in popular civic consciousness during the late nineteenth century and should not be viewed simply as a declining residue.24 In this interpretation, citizens’ loyalties to nationality and to the state must be understood as parts of an evolving, complex matrix of loyalties to local community, region, historic crown land, and dynasty as well as to nationality. King grants that for many in Budweis and in the Bohemian crown lands and Austria as a whole, growing loyalties to nation and nationalist politics did mean a gradual decline in allegiance to the Habsburg state. Nonetheless, he shows that many citizens still combined their national loyalties – or their national ambivalence or indifference – with continuing loyalties to the Habsburg emperor and to the Austrian state. This is corroborated by studies of how many official imperial celebrations in the late nineteenth century easily served both for the expression of loyalty to the emperor and the state and for the affirmation of local nationalist political interests.25 Laurence Cole‘s research on local military veterans’ associations has shown that often they, too, displayed such a mix of loyalties.26 For many Austrian citizens, as Maureen Healy has found regarding Vienna’s population, the suffering during the last years of World War I, the deepening inability of the governmental authorities to provide for basic services and public welfare, and the rapid increase of ethnic and nationalist tensions in that period finally caused the disintegration of confidence and allegiance to the Habsburg state.27

24

King 2002. 25 See Unowsky 26

Cole 2014. 27 Healy 2004.

2005; and Cole & Unowsky 2007.

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As I have argued elsewhere, it is important to take a systematic look at not only how popular loyalties to the Habsburg state actually developed but also at how the functioning relationship of the state – and all governmental authority – with the citizenry and civil society changed over time.28 Understanding civilian governmental employees’ performance of their duties and how they related to the citizenry is central to that research. In the spheres of law and constitutional principles, the Austrian government after 1900 began to make increasing concessions to demands for representation of national groups as collective political entities. Article 19 of the Basic Law on the General Rights of Citizens from 1867 recognized citizens’ individual rights to their national languages and cultures and the group rights of each p­ eople (Volksstamm) to its nationality,29 but the Austrian parliament adopted little implementing legislation during the succeeding years. Over the following three decades, the language of article 19 was understood to guarantee primarily the rights of citizens and nationalities to their national cultural rights, particularly language rights in public education, the justice system, and public administration. A series of court decisions, however, recognized the rights of associations and communal governments to bring claims on behalf of national interests for the protection of national rights. Additionally, in 1873 the Bohemian Diet approved the establishment of separate Czech and German local school boards in places with mixed populations, marking the beginning of the formal division of public authorities on national lines.30 After 1900, nationalist politicians and state officials worked out a series of compromises on nationality disputes, including those for Moravia in 1905, Bukovina in 1910, and Galicia and the city of Budweis in 1914. These agreements formally recognized nationalities as political entities in elections and in the representative bodies of those territories.31 The introduction of universal, equal, and direct male suffrage for the Austrian chamber of deputies (Abgeordnetenhaus) in 1907 included deliberate efforts to redraw many constituencies along lines of nationality. All these developments pointed in the direction of governance for each nationality by officials and institutions 28

Cohen 2013. Reichs-Gesetz-Blatt für das Kaiserthum Oesterreich Nr. 142 v. 21. Dezember 1867. Staatsgrundgesetz über die allgemeinen Rechte der Staatsbürger für die im Reichsrathe vertretenen Königreiche und Länder. 30 See the analysis of these constitutional and legal developments in Stourzh 1985, 53–83, 189–213. 31 On the various compromises, see King 2002, 137–147; Kann 1964, I 199–200, 231, 331–335, and Stourzh 1985, 213–240. On the Moravian compromise, see Glassl 1967, Kelly 2003, and Zahra 2008, 32–39. On the Bukovina compromise, see Leslie 1991, and Rachamimov 1996. On the Galician compromise, see Himka 1992, 79–93. 29

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of its own, in a sort of “national autonomy” under the Habsburg crown, as the eminent Austrian constitutional scholar Edmund Bernatzik termed it.32 Most of the nationalist parties had long pushed for this, but one cannot know, of course, how such arrangements might have developed further had the monarchy survived World War I. Under the Rechtsstaat which the monarchy developed after the late ­eighteenth century, employees of the state and of the autonomous communal and crown land administrations were required to uphold in their dealings with the citizenry all the rights and entitlements promised in the laws, ordinances, and court decisions. Given the ambiguities of some of the laws and the conflicting demands which arose from a changing society, many governmental officials found it challenging to meet all those obligations, as was evident in the petitions and complaints which individuals and groups brought to government agencies and the courts throughout the late nineteenth century. In constitutional terms, the emperor remained sovereign, but the opposition which citizens raised to unpopular laws and policies demonstrated their convictions that the governmental administration was in practical terms theirs and that officials and public employees had responsibilities to the citizenry.33 In Cisleithania citizens expressed their sense of entitlement to rights and public services and their sense of investment in the governmental administration in many areas of governmental activity, whether by direct statements and appeals or through interest groups and political parties. They developed particularly strong expectations regarding public education, which expanded at all levels after the 1850s and became a favorite subject for political ­agitation by many parties and interest groups. When the M ­ inistry of ­Religious Affairs and Education made efforts in the 1880s to restrict enrollments in Gymnasien and Realschulen to stem what it saw as excessive growth, it ran into popular beliefs in citizens’ entitlement to access to public institutions. In August 1880, soon after the conservative Count Eduard Taaffe became Austrian ­minister-president, the Education Ministry ordered all state-accredited ­secondary schools to submit detailed annual reports on their admissions examinations and mandated that the school directors speak with new applicants and their parents about the purposes of academic ­secondary education. The directors were expected to try to persuade less suited youth to ­pursue vocational training instead.34 Nonetheless, neither this nor subsequent 32 See

Stourzh 1985, 200 and Bernatzik 1911, 989, cited in Stourzh 1985, 200. On the Austrian electoral reform of 1907, see Jenks 1950. 33 See Cohen 2013. 34 Wiener Zeitung, 28 August 1880: Ministerium für Cultus und Unterricht, ministerial ­decree, 20 August 1880. See the discussion in Cohen 1996, 99–102.

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­ inisterial initiatives in the 1880s had much success in slowing the growth m of secondary school enrollments or the admission of youth who were not likely to complete full courses of study. Some school directors reported that many parents wanted to give their sons at least a chance to study in an academic secondary school before trying something else. Some parents simply wanted their children to complete the initial years of the curriculum before transferring to a commercial school, so that they could qualify for one-year “volunteer” military service in place of normal conscription. The 1880 reports to the Education Ministry also noted that some parents were outspoken in their resentment of the official efforts to discourage their children from attending a Gymnasium or Realschule. These parents considered the choice of a school to be a family decision and not the business of any official. A Gymnasium director in Graz reported the blunt statement of a parent that “I pay taxes, too, and therefore have the same entitlement (­Anrecht) as others to the education of my son in a state Gymnasium.”35 Whatever the state’s intentions in establishing academic secondary schools to prepare a small number of qualified male youth for higher education, parents across Austria by 1880 considered the opportunity for their sons to study in a public institution of secondary education, even if only for a few years, as an entitlement for them as citizens and taxpayers. In case all this might suggest too rosy a picture of the growing impact of civil society and popular engagement in public affairs on governance and public administration, one should note that conservative resistance or simple indifference of many officials and elected representatives and the disinterest of many voters retarded the development of publicly funded secondary education for girls in Austria until well after 1900. It took decades of determined campaigning by advocates of women’s educational rights before the popular sense of entitlement to secondary education began to extend to daughters. Up until World War I the Education Ministry failed to approve definitively a full eight-year curriculum for women’s Gymnasien or to accept financial responsibility for their operation. The development of civil society in all the Austrian crown lands after the 1860s, the growth of political parties and interest groups and of their 35

Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Allgemeines Verwaltungsarchiv, Unterrichtsministerium, 10 D1 in genere. Z. 17460/1880, k. k. Statthalter von Steiermark als Vorsitzender des Landesschulrats, Graz, 12 November 1880, Nr. 6877; Bericht des k. k. II. Ober-Gymnasiums in Graz an den Landesschulrat, 4 October 1880, Nr. 593. R ­ eports from other local school directors and the governors of the crown lands to the ministry regarding secondary school admissions in 1880 are located ibid., Ministerium in genere, Z. 17460/1880, and Z. 17623/1880.

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influence on administrative policymaking and legislation, and the successive expansions of the parliamentary suffrage all contributed to increasing pressures for democratization of government by 1900, even if it remained far from democratic in actual practice.36 Up to 1918 the suffrage systems for most crown land diets and communal councils remained restricted and stratified. The Austrian parliament, when it was able to function, had only limited control over the state administration and the authority of the emperor. Even if civil society exerted increasing influence over much domestic policymaking and obliged officials to respond to the demands of parties, interest groups, and the citizenry at large, traditions persisted of relying on governmental bureaucracy more than elected representatives to initiate new programs to meet societal needs. That long shadow of state authority, as Ernst Hanisch has reminded us in his magisterial survey of twentieth-century Austrian social history, remained strong in the Austrian Republic and the monarchy’s other successor states well after 1918.37 Learning to work effectively with democratically-based parliaments and assertive popular political parties required major changes in the Central European bureaucracies after the dissolution of the monarchy which many officials could not easily accommodate. In all the successor states governmental employees and their traditions faced enormous challenges during the early years after 1918. The new states all initially committed themselves to parliamentary democracy, but all carried strong legacies of the Habsburg traditions in their administrative structures, officialdoms, and broader political cultures. This was particularly obvious in the Republic of Austria and the western half of Czechoslovakia, both of which territories had been fully contained in the Austrian half of the Habsburg Monarchy.38 Formally, the Austrian Republic adopted a federal system intended to accord considerable autonomy to the provinces (Bundesländer) and to protect them from being overpowered by the central government or the interests of the Viennese metropolis. Still, the compromise constitutional provisions of 1920 gave the new central parliament legislative authority over the whole country, central ministries remained, and there was initially no fundamental reform of government administration at the federal, regional, or local levels. 36

See the reflections on the character of the democratizing pressures and developments in the Austrian political system during the last years before World War I in Boyer 2013. 37 Hanisch 1994. 38 Exceptions were the new Austrian province of Burgenland (“German Western Hungary”), which until its integration into the new Republic in 1921 was part of Hungary, and the Hultschiner Ländchen (Hlučínsko) in Prussian Silesia, which became part of Czechoslovakia in 1920.

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There were also no sweeping changes in personnel in much of the governmental administration. These circumstances enabled officials in the federal ministries, the provinces, and the communal governments to retain many of their older habits and traditions as they faced pressures to adapt to greater democracy and the enhanced authority of elected representative ­bodies. In the 1930s when the irresolvable struggle of the Christian Socials and the Social Democrats doomed parliamentary democracy in Austria, much of the federal and provincial officialdom readily joined in implementing a dic­ tatorship under Engelbert Dollfuß and Kurt Schuschnigg – a dictatorship that was administered, as Emmerich Tálos, Helmut Wohnout, and others have argued, by the bureaucracy and not by the Christian Social Party or the Fatherland Front.39 In contrast to the Austrian Republic, Czechoslovakia functioned as a ­unitary state, although Slovak nationalists repeatedly called for regional autonomy. Among the several foreign constitutional models which influenced the constitution of 1920, the French Third Republic had the greatest impact. The Czechoslovak parliament was accorded broad authority over the executive, but the central ministries still had considerable powers, and the president of the republic exercised more influence and authority than in most other European parliamentary democracies. Communal governments and the provincial administrations of Bohemia and Moravia continued to enjoy some significant autonomy as they had in Imperial Austria. In Slovakia the legacy of Hungarian rule left significant administrative responsibilities to county (Župa, Komitat) structures, but efforts to extend this system of counties to Bohemia and Moravia failed.40 Czechoslovak cabinets during the 1920s and 1930s depended on coalition majorities in the multi-party parliament, but the governments enjoyed a more stable relationship with the parliament throughout the 1920s and 1930s than in Austria before 1933. This stability owed much to the influence of the president and his advisors – the Castle (Hrad) – and to careful management of legislative action behind closed doors by the leaders of a nearly permanent five-party ruling coalition. Slovakia‘s distinct political and administrative 39

See the general account of politics and society in the Austrian First Republic in H ­ anisch 1994, 263–336. On the character of the dictatorship and the role of the government officialdom in the operation of Austria’s Ständestaat, see the observations in Tálos & ­ eugebauer 2005, 126–127, 153–154, 157–159, 403–405; and Wohnout 1993, particuN larly 233–237. 40 On the constitution and politics of Czechoslovakia’s First Republic, see Mamatey & Luža 1973; Olivová 2000; Pánek, Tůma et al. 2011, 395–434; Leff 1988, 45–85; Klimek 1996–1998; and Miller 1999.

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heritage from before 1918 and the less developed economy than in the Czech lands caused continuing frictions between the Slovak and Czech halves of the country. Whether the central government could apply uniform legislation, policies, and administrative measures across the whole country was a hotly debated issue throughout the era from 1918 to 1938. In Czechoslovakia, despite the national and democratic revolutions, there were, as in Austria, strong continuities with the monarchy in law, the functioning of many government institutions, the ethos of governmental officials, and popular civic life. As president of the republic, Tomáš G. Masaryk spoke often about the need for a democratic transformation of popular civic ­values – the necessity to “de-Austrianize” society and politics, as he put it – but he owed much of the ability to work his will in the state administration to the continuities with the monarchy and indeed to some of the Habsburg emperor’s former authority and prestige. Initially, the founders of independent Czechoslovakia purposely left in place the great bulk of the laws, ordinances, and basic administrative structures from the old regime. In addition, in Czechoslovakia as in the Austrian Republic, thousands of communal, provincial, and state employees who were educated under the monarchy and trained in the work of governmental administration under the old imperial state remained in place to face the challenges of the new era. Pieter Judson argues that the Habsburg Monarchy deserves much more credit for successful state-building over the long nineteenth century than most older histories of the monarchy allowed.41 Among the principal fruits of that state-building was a large modern governmental bureaucracy which staffed an elaborate and variegated administrative apparatus. By the early twentieth century, the myriad of bureaucrats, whether they worked in the ministries, crown land and county offices, or autonomous county and communal governments, provided a host of public services, upon which the ­citizenry and state authority itself depended. No matter how strong was the democratic, anti-Habsburg rhetoric voiced by many of the successor states’ governments after 1918, they could not dispense with such central elements of the old monarchy’s legacy as its administrative system and officialdom. All these circumstances make the long-term evolution of bureaucracy in the monarchy and its successor states a rich and necessary subject for continuing intensive historical research.

41

Judson 2016a.

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The Formation of the Liberal Generation in Austria, c. 1830–1861 Education, Revolution and State Service Jonathan Kwan In the Budget debate of February 1882 the long-term liberal leader ­Eduard Herbst gave an impassioned speech against Count Eduard Taaffe’s conser­ vative coalition government. Herbst claimed that the piecemeal, localized political deals of the Taaffe government were demoralizing the bureaucracy and endangering the traditions of the Austrian state. Herbst drew attention to his four years working in the Lower Austrian Finance-Procuration office, the legal department of the governorate, as giving an insight into inner workings of the Austrian state and its culture. I knew the time of the Vormärz. I knew the bureaucracy in the unified Court ­Chancellery and the governorates. I know the spirit of self-reliance and loyal faithfulness to the in­herited traditions [of Josephinist state unity] that prevailed in these institutions even in the time of absolutist regimes. Truly, a state like Austria, a polyglot state, where the c­ entrifugal powers and elements are only too strong; in such a state there is a requirement for a power­ful bureaucracy with a state conscience, not one infused with national convictions.1

Herbst continued in this very personal vein: We will stand up for our old Austria, as we have done during the twenty years of parliamentary activity […] We have here the illustrious models of the great regents Maria Theresia and Emperor Joseph. They created Austria. It is this Austria – given form by our illustrious forerunners, the monarchs – and these Theresian and Josephinist ideas, to which the Germans in Austria will remain steadfastly faithful.2

In 1882 Herbst was sixty-one years old with a long parliamentary career behind him as well as a productive, though turbulent, stint as Justice Minister. 1

2

Stenographische Protokolle über die Sitzungen des Hauses der Abgeordneten des österreichischen Reichsrathes, IX. Session, 195. Sitzung am 16. Februar 1882, 6863. Taaffe’s government was supported by a coalition of conservative, Czech and Polish ­parties – the famous Iron Ring. Stenographische Protokolle, IX. Session, 195. Sitzung am 16. Februar 1882, 6866.

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The 1880s were difficult years of opposition for the liberal party (­commonly referred to as the Constitutional Party), which had through its myriad of ­factions formed the majority in parliament from 1861 to 1879, governing for nearly all of the period. Herbst and his colleagues – near the end of their distinguished public careers – often spoke of their formative influences, the core beliefs of the liberal movement and their fears for the future of the ­Austrian state. A few years earlier, Herbst, in a feuilleton on the front page of the main liberal Viennese newspaper, Neue Freie Presse, had again evoked his time in the Finance-Procuration office during the 1840s. He described the handwritten notes from Maria Theresia and Joseph II as “gold-dust” teaching young bureaucrats about the Austrian state idea.3 Indeed, in a remarkable conjunction of talent, future liberal leaders and ministers Leopold Ritter von Hasner, Karl Giskra, and Josef Ritter (later Freiherr) von Lasser were all fellow junior officials in one department of the Lower Austrian legal office of the 1840s. Other future ministers also in the legal office, though in different departments, included Alexander (later Freiherr von) Bach, Johann Nepomuk Berger and Sigmund (later Freiherr von) Conrad. In effect, the older Herbst was highlighting this experience in the lower bureaucracy as an important training ground for politicians, since it instilled the essence of the Austrian state, its traditions and ideals. This article will focus on the formative experiences of the liberal politicians who emerged in 1848 and came to power in the 1860s and 1870s, many of whom would be government ministers responsible for constructing a constitutional Austria. It will try to place their experiences in the civil service and their ideas about the Austrian state within an overall trajectory of development. To some extent, it is the story of how the liberals emerged as the dominant political party and elite in the 1860s. Herbst pointed to experiences in the Austrian bureaucracy as a decisive formative influence on liberal attitudes towards the state. Was this really the case? Karl Mannheim’s theory of generations will be used to analyze this particular political and social group.4 Mannheim stressed a certain schema underlying the formation of a generation as a “concrete group”. According to Mannheim, when a process of dynamic destabilization disrupts societal

3 4

Neue Freie Presse, 8 December 1880. The Feuilleton was written by Friedrich Schütz, a friend of Herbst, in honour of Herbst’s 60th birthday. Mannheim 1952.

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p­ atterns of experience and thought, the response is often a fundamental re-evaluation led by the youth of the day. Shared social and economic backgrounds (Mannheim uses the term location) coupled with common experiences at an early age create certain responses to the destabilization. This then forms a generation – in essence, a youthful cohort coping with upheaval through a number of shared, though sometimes conflicting, responses. A specific response based around an ideology, or, in Mannheim’s words, “funda­ mental integrative attitudes and formative principles” can form a more compact sub-category or “generational unit”.5 This shared ideological system often forges an intense bond amongst a cohort where certain slogans, symbols, words, ideas and actions are imbued with emotional significance. According to Mannheim, a “generational unit” is then formed. In this article I will use the term generation for Mannheim’s technical term “generational unit”, since there is a clear focus on specific liberal responses as part of the formative experiences of future liberal politicians. Seven key liberals will form the collective case study in this article. They would all become important political figures in the 1860s and 1870s. Knowledge of their background and development can provide an insight into the overall development of Austrian liberalism. To some extent, as well, the seven liberals were representative of a wider generation (and elite) emerging out of the 1848 revolutions. The seven individuals were born between 1811 and 1831 with the main grouping concentrated around 1820. Those born around 1820 include the Ministers, close friends and former lowly bureaucrats ­Hasner (1818), Herbst (1820) and Giskra (1820), who would be Ministers in the celebrated Bürgerministerium (1867–1870), the first ministry made up primarily of parliamentarians rather than aristocrats and high bureaucrats. The oldest to be discussed will be Moriz Edler (later Ritter) von Kaiserfeld (1811) and Lasser (1815), while the younger members comprise Josef Unger (1828) and Eduard Suess (1831).6 This generation, which greatly marked the Monarchy’s history and dominated political life for twenty years, has not been investigated in depth from an individual or group biographical

5 6

Mannheim 1952, 305. Particularly useful for the outlines of each individual have been the standard biographical dictionaries, Österreichisches Biographisches Lexikon, Constantin Wurzbach’s Biographisches Lexikon des Kaisertums Österreichs, Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, Neue Deutsche Biographie and most recently Adlgasser 2014a. Other works on the background of individual liberals include Pollak 1894–1898, Schütz 1909 and Hartmeyer 1949.

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perspective.7 For example, there are no recent biographies for any of these seven figures. This article makes two arguments. First, through shared experiences and a common core political programme, lasting and strong bonds were formed amongst the leading liberals. Much of the early historiography on the liberals, especially for the breakdown in the Bürgerministerium, emphasized liberal divisions, personal jealousies and factional differences.8 In fact, there was considerable ideological cohesion in the liberal movement – despite the obvious strong individualism and differing opinions – along with wide-ranging concrete achievements.9 In many respects, they formed a remarkably coherent generation. Nearly all had studied law, nearly all had their first experience of politics in 1848 and nearly all had worked in administrative positions either in the bureaucracy or with large landowners. Herbst, Hasner, Giskra, Unger, Suess and Lasser were all on friendly terms and mixed in the same overlapping circles in Vienna (Kaiserfeld’s social circles centred on Graz). Of course, they had different family backgrounds, came from different regions of the Empire, had contrasting social milieu and often held conflicting opinions. Yet many knew each other from a young impressionable age, had common formative experiences and, above all, were fired with a shared overall political goal – to create a progressive, liberal, modern ­Austria. This combination of shared experiences and a common political programme (despite considerable diversity of opinion) forged lasting and strong bonds amongst the leading liberals. The second argument is that the crucial formative experiences for the liberals were their participation in the 1848 revolutions and their reckoning with its multi-faceted legacy, often while working and progressing within the neo-absolutist system of the 1850s.10 It was not, as Herbst argued, the 7

Amongst the books on Austrian liberalism Franz 1955 roughly covers this period but takes a thematic, generalized approach. There is much in Pieter Judson’s rich book about new liberal rhetoric and practice, though he does not look at specific individuals or uses the concept of generations. Judson 1996, 1–10. The book contains a compelling new interpretation of Austrian liberalism’s development. In my work on Austrian liberalism I followed the careers of Kaiserfeld, Herbst, Ernst von Plener, Adolf Fischhof and Heinrich Friedjung from 1861 to 1895 to give concrete examples of various themes over the course of thirty years. Kwan 2013. 8 The early accounts in general emphasize divisions and disunity. For example ­ Pollak 1894–1898, I 206–224, Kolmer 1902, 362–363 and 388, Charmatz 1911, 85–100, Redlich 1926, 638–671 and Franz 1955, 385–386. More balanced accounts include ­Rumpler 2000, 674–712 and Judson 1996, 117–142. 9 This is what I argued in Kwan 2013, 7–13. 10 There is a short, impressionist sketch of generations in the 1848 revolution in Lutz 1962. A similar approach is found in Feuer 1969, 68–74 and Esler 1971, 96–117.

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apprenticeship in the lower bureaucracy during the pre-revolutionary time which marked out and defined this generation. Herbst’s purpose in presenting a stylized account of his and the other liberals’ development was to attack and criticize Taaffe’s government, rather than to reflect calmly and seriously on his formative experiences. In fact, for this generation of liberals, the 1848 revolution was the event that left a lasting “imprint”.11 The 1848 revolutions evoked a common frame of reference and a sense of rupture with the past, leading to a form of generational consciousness.12 This article will trace the formation of this generation, from their upbringings in the Vormärz, their experiences in 1848, through to their career progressions in the 1850s. The Background and Early Experiences of the Seven Liberals The oldest of the seven was Moriz Kaiserfeld, who, throughout his political life, remained essentially a provincial politician. He was born in the German “language island” of Pettau (Ptuj) in Lower Styria (present day ­Slovenia) on 24 January 1811. While the town was largely German speaking, forming a so-called German-language-triangle with Cilli (Celje) and ­Marburg (Maribor), the surrounding hinterland was overwhelmingly made up of Slovenian speakers. Bilingualism, at varying levels of competence, was very common both within the town and in the countryside.13 ­Kaiserfeld came from a family with Slovene origins, which, through devotion to state service over the course of three generations had gradually assimilated into the Austro-German cultural and social world.14 His forefathers came from the nearby Cilli region and had the family name Blagotinšek. His grand­father, Franz Blagatinschegg, slightly Germanised the name and was extremely active as an Imperial Recruiting Commissioner in the Josephinist era, setting up three schools in the district and paying a state debt of 48,000 florins from his personal funds. His efforts did not go unrewarded. On 11 August 1817 he received a noble title, henceforth the family name became Blagatinschegg von Kaiserfeld. The family residence changed names from Dobje-Hofes to Rosenhof. Kaiserfeld’s father, Franz Ludwig Blagatinschegg von Kaiserfeld, also entered state service, eventually reaching the level of Tax Inspector in 1840. Thus, in the course of three generations, the Slovene origins of the family gradually became obscured. 11

This is the term used in Jaeger 1985. Wohl 1979, 210. I have paraphrased Wohl’s general reflections on the nature of generations, though the focus of his book is on the 1914 generation. 13 Judson forcefully argues for the normalcy of bilingualism, and has written on this area of Lower Styria in the late nineteenth century. Judson 2006, 6 and 100–140. 14 The standard account of Kaiserfeld’s life remains Krones 1888. See also Sutter 1986. 12

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Kaiserfeld came from a typical successful, upper middle class family loyal to the Monarchy and to the values of service, education and hard work. His brothers became military officers, bureaucrats and lawyers.15 Kaiserfeld followed the standard education for his social class. He attended the Academic Gymnasium in Graz, where he was a good but not exceptional student, then studied philosophy and law (Rechts- und Staatswissenschaft) at the University of Graz. Unexpectedly, he did not take the state exams and instead became an administrator on various large estates. His biographer Franz ­Krones postulated that Kaiserfeld desired independence and wanted to live in the countryside.16 In 1837 he moved to Birkenstein, just north of Graz, and the next year married the estate’s widow, Countess Clementine ­Manneville, who was nine years older than him. Kaiserfeld now began to move in a­ ristocratic circles, though he retained his grounding in upper m ­ iddle class values. His friends were mostly educated notables (Honoratioren) with whom he was connected either through common background, family connections, associational life or a shared education.17 They were members of the new emerging elite, not tied to extensive estates, mostly employed by the state, and advancing primarily through education, merit and dedication. In 1844 he and his family undertook an extensive trip through Vienna, Prague, rural Bohemia and the German lands (Dresden, Leipzig, etc.) to Belgium and France. Throughout he writes of the need for reform and “the spirit of the time”: Should Austria have reached its culmination point from which it can go no further, only backwards? While our neighbours, the Saxons and Bavarians, enjoy the blessings of a constitution, should we be incapable to judge and recognize for ourselves: what must be done to have a say where it concerns such high values as freedom and property? No, it will not stay like this, even if mean-spirited politics attempts to keep the status quo.18

It was an important trip for Kaiserfeld, who kept an extensive diary of his experiences.19 When visiting Leipzig, Kaiserfeld mused on the decisive Battle of the Nations during the Napoleonic Wars and its effect on German national feeling: “From the Battle of Leipzig dates German unity, from it dates also German freedom.”20 The trip made him reflect on the condition of Austria in comparison with other countries, a process often crucial in 15 16 17 18 19 20

Steiermärkisches Landesarchiv (StLA) Graz, Nachlass Kaiserfeld, Karton 1, H2. Kaiserfeld 1996. Krones 1888, 13. Krones 1888, 39. See also Marko-Stöckl 1993 and Kaiserfeld 1996, 221–223. Krones 1888, 23 StLA, Nachlass Kaiserfeld, Karton 2, H6. Krones 1888, 29.

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f­ orming a political education.21 For the younger upper middle class and aristocracy it was customary to travel as part of their general education and for many, especially before the onset of widespread railway travel, these lengthy trips were defining formative experiences. Josef Lasser was born in Weißenbach near Strobl, about 30 kilometres southeast of Salzburg, on 30 September 1814 and came from a distinguished noble family that had been in the Salzburg region for at least three centuries. He attended the Academic Gymnasium in Salzburg and then completed his doctorate in law at the University of Vienna. In 1839 he entered state service as a trainee in the Lower Austrian legal office where his talent as a bureaucrat was immediately apparent. His friend Hasner called Lasser a “true bureaucratic genius”.22 He rose quickly through the bureaucratic ranks becoming an actuary in the General Court Chamber in 1847. Lasser’s trajectory was much more conventional than Kaiserfeld’s. An important difference and a turning point for Lasser was his university study in Vienna. From then onwards he was based in Vienna with his civil service career spent in the Imperial bureaucracy. Nevertheless, Lasser remained loyal to his roots in the region of Salzburg being elected there as representative to the Viennese parliament in 1848 and again in 1861, also participating in the Salzburg Diet from 1861 to 1871. Compared to Kaiserfeld, however, Lasser was more centralist, more committed to the Josephinist ideals of a unitary state. He was also more naturally a member of the governing elite. Coming to the cohort born around 1820, Leopold Hasner was born in Prague on 15 March 1818. His father, ennobled in 1836, had been for ­decades a high-ranking bureaucrat in the Bohemian capital. Hasner attended the ­Academic Gymnasium in Prague’s Old Town followed by Prague University where he studied philosophy (completed in 1836) and law (from 1836 to 1840). Hasner felt close to his hometown and represented it in the central parliament from 1861 to 1867, until he was named to the Upper House. He moved to Vienna in 1840 to finish his law degree, which he completed in 1842. Hasner had already become a civil service legal trainee while in Prague and he transferred to the Lower Austrian bureaucracy upon taking up study in Vienna. Like Lasser, the move to the Imperial capital prompted him to follow a more centralist direction.

21

This point has been made by Oakeshott 1991, 64. Oakeshott’s work will be used in ­greater depth later in this article. 22 Müllner 1962, 3.

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Hasner’s circle of friends revolved around his university and professional contacts.23 He met Herbst at the University of Vienna and they quickly became close friends. Even as a young law student, Herbst was gaining a reputation for great learning and sharp debating skills.24 After graduation both became assistant law professors in Vienna under Anton (later Freiherr) von Hye while also working in the Lower Austrian legal office. According to Hasner, “in everything, [Herbst’s] sharp gift for observation and dialectic went straight to the heart of the matter.”25 Later in the 1850s when they were both law professors in Prague, Hasner and Herbst shared a flat. They were friends in private life and loyal colleagues in the political field. Eduard Herbst was the dominant figure amongst the group of reformminded law students at the University of Vienna in the late Vormärz. He was born in Vienna on 9 December 1820, though his family roots lay in ­Bohemia and were, apparently, Czech. His forefathers – with the family name Podzimek (early winter in Czech, hence Herbst) – fled Prague during the Thirty Years War and settled in Saaz (Žatec), in the North-West of Bohemia where his great grandfather, Johann Podzimek, occupied the distinguished position of Rector of Saaz’s schools. Herbst’s grandfather, in accordance with the family’s belief in education, was sent to Göttingen University where he studied medicine. Back in Austria, he settled in Baden near Vienna, changed his name to Herbst and set up a pharmaceutical practice. Herbst’s father Karl studied law in Vienna, married into an old Viennese middle class family and became wealthy as a private lawyer in the early nineteenth century.26 Thus, like Kaiserfeld, Herbst’s family, originally Slavic in background, had over the course of time become assimilated into the educated, German-speaking higher social circles. Herbst was initially educated at home, then attended the renowned Schotten­gymnasium where he was an outstanding student. He decided to ­follow his father’s path and enrolled in law (Rechts- und Staatswissenschaft). In his yearly university cohort of 1841 there were four future ministers – Herbst, Giskra, Conrad, Adolf Freiherr von Kriegs-Au – three of whom would also spend time in the Lower Austrian legal office. He graduated in 1843 as doctor of laws, immediately becoming an assistant at the university. By 1846 he was giving lectures at the university while also working in the civil service. He had already started publishing legal essays and in 1847, at the age 23

See the comments in Bahr 1947, 4–7. Hasner 1892, 35. 25 Hasner 1892, 56. 26 See the summary in Schütz 1909, 80–82 and Wymetal 1944, 4. 24

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of twenty-seven, was named Professor of Legal Philosophy and Criminal Law (Rechtsphilosophie und Strafrecht) at Lemberg University. He quickly became friends there with the Governor of Galicia Franz Graf S ­ tadion, even editing a relatively liberal official journal under ­Stadion’s patronage. They spent evenings in Lemberg talking about politics and the future of the state; Stadion filling the room with smoke from his strong cigars.27 Stadion’s determination and openness particularly impressed the young Herbst.28 At the same time, Leo Graf Thun-Hohenstein – a politically-minded aristocrat, high ranking bureaucrat and strict Catholic – was in Lemberg working in the Governor’s office under Stadion. Thun, though a conservative, would over time have an important influence on many liberals including Herbst. A fellow law student and life long friend of Herbst’s was Karl Giskra. Born on 29 January 1820 in Mährisch Trübau (Moravská Třebová) about sixty kilometres north of the Moravian capital Brünn (Brno), Giskra came from a German “language island”, like Kaiserfeld. His father was a tanner in the provincial town and the family was relatively impoverished. Giskra attended gymnasium in Brünn before coming to Vienna for his legal studies. As students, he and Herbst would often go for Sunday walks together.29 Compared to Herbst, who was cool, learned and sarcastic, Giskra was impassioned, impulsive and spontaneous – a natural speaker. He supposedly stated that “repose would be my death, I am a ‘stormy bird’ (Sturmvogel).”30 He followed a similar path to Hasner and Herbst, completing his legal studies in 1843, becoming a university assistant and working in the lower civil service. Rumours of financial impropriety were already circulating about this popular young teacher at the university, especially when he embarked on a luxurious trip to Paris.31 Later, in 1875, Giskra’s political career would effectively end with a sensational appearance at the Ofenheim corruption trial involving railways, monetary favours and ministerial patronage. In his testimony Giskra conceded to receiving substantial bribes, stating that “it is customary to accept gratuities.”32 The final two individuals to be investigated were slightly younger. Josef Unger was born on 2 July 1828 in Vienna to a Jewish family. His father Martin, originally from Hungary, had pursued various business ventures in Vienna in order to obtain official tolerance for residence there. By 1829 27 28 29 30 31 32

Neue Freie Presse, 8 December 1880. Schütz 1909, 87. Charmatz 1947, 86 Charmatz 1947, 85. Haintz 1962. Judson 1996, 91–92.

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he had lost his initial capital and his wife’s dowry, yet still did not have a permanent right of residence. He was a broken man, now dependent on his wife’s family, which ran a prosperous Bohemian business. Around this time the Unger family employed a personal tutor, Alois Czaslawski, who would later join the civil service though he continued to live with the Unger family. ­Martin Unger died in 1851 whereupon his widow Flora converted to Catholicism and promptly married the tutor Czaslawski in a Catholic service on 12 February 1852. Unger, too, converted to Catholicism a few months later. He lived with his mother and his former tutor, now step-father until May 1880.33 Unger was an exceptionally gifted student, though prone to depression. He attended the Academic Gymnasium from 1838 to 1844, achieved outstanding results, then commenced legal studies at the University of Vienna in 1846. His health had already led to a long stay in 1845–46 with relatives in Italy. Throughout his life he would periodically be affected by his nervous disposition. Nevertheless, his academic gifts were apparent and marked him for a bright future. The music critic Eduard Hanslick later recalled being introduced to Unger in a legal seminar with the accompanying words from Professor Hye: “Yes, don’t you know, then, the brilliant (genialen) Unger?”34 Unger was not even twenty when the 1848 revolutions broke out, but he quickly became immersed in student politics. The final figure, Eduard Suess, was also heavily involved in the 1848 ­revolutions, despite being a sixteen-year old student at the Viennese Poly­ technic Institute at the time. Born on 20 August 1831 in London into a relatively wealthy business family, Suess spoke English for the first years of his life. Only with the family’s move back to Prague (his mother’s hometown) did Suess learn German. Suess began gymnasium in Prague where he became friends with the son of the celebrated Czech historian František Palacký, even visiting the Palacký home frequently. His father moved to Vienna in 1845 to take over a leather factory and Suess continued his education at the Piarist Gymnasium in Vienna’s Josefstadt before moving to the Polytechnic Institute. Leading into 1848: An indistinct ‘generation’ On the cusp of the tumultuous events of 1848, then, how does this small group match Mannheim’s schema? First, there was as yet no real dynamic destabilization. The catalyst had not yet occurred. There were, however, signs 33 34

These events are laid out in Frankfurter 1917, 42–47. Neue Freie Presse, 2 July 1898: Eduard Hanslick, Mit Unger (Persönliche Erinnerungen).

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of underlying social and economic changes. Giskra’s successive moves from his hometown, first to Brünn for gymnasium, then to Vienna for university highlight the increased access to transport. Kaiserfeld’s entry into the minor aristocratic world demonstrates some social mobility. Certainly ­Unger’s and Giskra’s educational achievements from quite humble backgrounds point to an increasingly open and meritocratic system, especially considering the Monarchy’s general conservatism and the strong traditions of the Catholic church. In particular, despite the difficulties his father faced in obtaining official residence, Unger’s ascent within the traditional system as a lower middle-class Jew indicates a world of increased opportunities for the highly educated, academically gifted young elite. Undoubtedly, landed wealth and family lineage still held the key to access to the highest rungs of Viennese society and to certain positions (especially around the Imperial Court and the diplomatic corps), yet in the wider world, wealth and ability were allowing some mobility and softening the traditional rigidity.35 These processes were gradual but beginning to make a substantial impact, especially for the privileged few who could attain a university degree and progress through the civil service. As for the particular social and economic standing shared by a generation, granting them similar opportunities – Mannheim’s “location” – this potential generation of putative liberals required a certain level of wealth that would enable attendance at gymnasium followed by university, then the awkward period – sometimes lasting many years – until a suitable permanent and ­salaried position was found. Since education was so important for this generation, a certain shared bourgeois desire to improve personally and socially – at least to some extent – was also an important factor. It is interesting that substantial inherited landed property did not feature in the background of the seven individuals. The fathers were either bureaucrats, from the free professions or businessmen. Finally, which common experiences could potentially influence or shape the collective generational reassessment of traditions and values in response to some future upheaval? The general pattern for these young liberals was gymnasium, then legal studies at the university followed by a stint in the civil service, possibly with an assistant position at a university as well. Only Suess of the seven did not study law. In a recent article Franz Adlgasser has shown how prevalent lawyers were in the early years of 35

For changing society in the Vormärz see Judson 1996, 11–28. For a similar view in relation to Germany, David Blackbourn in his book on nineteenth century Germany has sections on the Vormärz entitled “A Changing Society” and “The Development of Political Life”. Blackbourn 1997, 106–137.

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Austrian parliamentary life.36 This was particularly the case for the liberals in comparison with the conservatives, who often relied on landed wealth or a background in the catholic church. What of the stint in the lower bureaucracy, so prominent in Herbst’s ­recollections? In an essay originally published in 1951 entitled “Political Education”, the political theorist and philosopher Michael Oakeshott stressed the “tradition of political behaviour” that is passed on by observation and imitation of elders.37 For Oakshott, abstract ideals communicated through formal education could not capture the essentials of political education. What was required was a practical everyday apprenticeship under the tutelage of experienced politicians steeped in a particular tradition. To some extent those years within the lower branches of the bureaucracy, learning the procedures, needs, habits, customs and thinking of the Austrian state from within were important to the budding liberals. As Herbst stated, it gave them a sense of the state and its traditions. Yet when the 1848 revolutions broke out they were still very young and lacking in experience, especially in positions of responsibility. Moreover, this experience in the lower bureaucracy did not appear decisive in determining the thinking and leading ideas of the young reformers. As young men making their way in the world, a common experience was the influence of a mentor. Mentors serve, Oakeshott argues, as guides in the traditions of political (and other) behavior.38 For the assistants and students in the legal faculty of Vienna University, Professor Hye was a trusted and popular teacher. Hye was born in 1807 – so about ten years older than the median for the generation – and became a full Professor in Law in 1842. While mainly staying far from political questions, Hye was generally in favour of academic freedom and he became a focal point for reformers. ­Hasner, Herbst and Giskra were assistants, while Unger would develop into his most famous student. Many stayed in regular correspondence with Hye for the rest of their lives.39 Other examples of mentors were Unger’s tutor turned step-father Czaslawski as well as his gymnasium teacher Wilhelm Podlaha, who possibly influenced Unger’s conversion to Catholicism.40 For Herbst, his conversations with Stadion clearly provided a stimulus for his political thinking. There did not seem to be any outstanding figure in the 36

Adlgasser 2014b, 39–52. Oakeshott 1991, 58–61. 38 Oakeshott 1991, 62. Oakeshott uses the term elders. 39 Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv, Nachlass Hye, Karton 22. 40 Frankfurter 1917, 45–46, 77–79. 37

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legal office of Lower Austrian civil service who inspired and guided the young trainees. Another common experience for this generation was participation in associations. Typical was the involvement of Kaiserfeld who from a young age was a member of the Inner Austrian Industry Association, Styrian Agricultural Association and Styrian Music Society. Associational life provided forums for sociability, discussions and autonomous self-government.41 Reading associations gave members access to a large number of books (when prices were astronomical for those on an average income), newspapers and journals. One of the most prominent for the members of the younger educated elite in Vienna was the Legal-Political Reading Association formed in 1841. It was open to everyone and its early membership was only onethird lawyers, while there were physicians, historians, writers, musicians and many other professions in its ranks.42 Hasner, Herbst, Giskra and Lasser were members of the association in the Vormärz, while Unger was a prominent member later on. The number of books available rose enormously in the first few years and there were constant clashes with censorship authorities. The range went further than just legal titles, showing a tendency towards political works, and encompassed many international newspapers and journals. On the eve of the 1848 revolution, then, this generation did not have a sharp profile.43 There was a general desire for reform amongst much of the educated youth but it was disparate, undeveloped and lacking focus. Moreover, their shared educational, professional and social experiences were not substantially different from before. While there were some signs of society and the economy changing, there was no destabilization or defining common experience for the generation. This all changed, however, when news of the revolution in Paris led to calls for reform by the Hungarian parliament, convening at nearby Pressburg (Pozsony, today Bratislava). 1848: Dynamic Destabilization, Fundamental Reevaluation and the Common Experiences of Youth The revolution broke out in Vienna in the second week of March 1848 and quickly gathered momentum. Kaiserfeld was in Styria, Herbst was in Lemberg, while Lasser, Hasner, Giskra, Unger and Suess were all in Vienna. Significantly, at the outset, the two young students Unger and Suess were the 41

See for example the discussion in Hoffmann 2006 and the classic account of the development in Habermas 1989. 42 Brauneder 1992, v, vii. 43 There is a short sketch of student life just before 1848 in Esler 1971, 103–106.

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most heavily involved in the street marches, committee meetings and public demonstrations. Suess recalled how word spread that students should meet at the university at 9 am on 13 March 1848, the day the Lower Austrian Diet would convene. He and his fellow Polytechnic students marched to the university where the atmosphere was “serious and determined”. An indescribable feeling of brotherhood, of freedom and of love for the Fatherland, of elation and of willingness to die for the cause (Todesmut) enflamed us. Of course, there was also a boundless over-estimation of the cultural and intellectual condition of ­humanity. That is the golden privilege of youth – the ethical glory of such a movement and, at the same time, its danger.44

Suess was in the streets with the crowds for the next few days as the students took control of the city. A student committee comprising members from the main university and the Polytechnic Institute was formed, and both Unger and Suess were members. Outside the university, the Legal-Political Reading Association exerted considerable influence and gave the slightly older age group a forum and focal point. Professor Hye was prominent, as were Giskra, Alexander Bach (soon to be Justice and Interior Minister), Johann Nepomuk Berger (later Minister without Portfolio in the Bürger­ ministerium), Ignaz Kuranda (editor of the progressive journal Die Grenzboten and future liberal leader), amongst many others. The general demands were for press freedom, a constitution and a National Guard, though the exact details and form of implementation were still unclear. As the revolution continued, widened and deepened, Giskra, Suess and Unger served first on the central committee, then on the security committee.45 Giskra in particular gave fiery, pro-democracy speeches at the university.46 On 15 and 16 May 1848, Giskra, Unger and Suess were members of the delegation that met with Prime Minister Franz Freiherr von Pillersdorff demanding a constitution to be drafted by an elected constituent assembly. These demands as well as general unrest in the streets prompted Emperor Ferdinand and the court to flee to Innsbruck. The May Days in Vienna provoked some more cautious reformers into questioning the direction of events. Initially, Hasner had welcomed the changes but the turbulent situation in Vienna prompted him to leave the National Guard and return to Prague.47 He then took on the editorship of the Prager Zeitung offered by the ­Bohemian 44

Suess 1916, 27–28. There is some debate about Unger’s involvement on the security committee. Frankfurter 1917, 53–55. 46 Schütz 1909, 57. 47 Burian 1974 and Bahr 1947, 8–9. 45

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Governor Leo Graf Thun-Hohenstein, who had recently transferred from Lemberg. From 1 July 1848 to 31 October 1849 Hasner participated in everyday politics as a journalist, often writing the paper’s lead articles. In general, he espoused a constitutional monarchy with administrative and territorial unity. This was a Josephinist vision of an integrated Austrian Gesamtstaat fulfilling its role as a European “Great Power”. Hasner’s aversion to revolutionary upheaval and belief in a strong state was evident in his later support for the dissolution of the Austrian Parliament and for the issuing of Stadion’s moderate March 1849 constitution. Stadion even tried recruiting Hasner for the official government paper but Hasner refused on ethical grounds. Kaiserfeld, too, regretted the radical turn of events and from his base in Graz refused to recognize the Viennese Security Committee’s jurisdiction in any provincial matters.48 His views were neatly distilled in the phrase he used against the Security Committee in July 1848: “Freedom has its limits – and that is the law!”49 From the beginning of the revolution, Kaiserfeld had published a series of anonymous articles in the Grenzboten and the Grazer Zeitung. He had also participated in the provisional Styrian Diet since its first meeting on 13 June 1848. In a number of articles at the end of November and the beginning of December, Kaiserfeld attempted to summarize his opinion of the revolutions. His views mixed bourgeois fears of revolutionary radicalism with a belief in gradual reform and a commitment to the ­Austrian state, in particular its foundation on German language and culture. He was against a Großdeutschland based on the Frankfurt Parliament and in favour of ­reconciliation with the various Austrian nationalities. According to ­Kaiserfeld, Austria had to become, above all, a true Rechtsstaat.50 Despite the radicalism in the streets of Vienna, the Slav Congress in Prague and the escalating war in Hungary, Kaiserfeld continued to have faith in Austria’s cultural mission of bringing liberal values and Western culture to the East.51 Kaiserfeld’s views were very close to Hasner’s, though less centralist. In general, the liberal opinion from the provinces was in support of reform but wary of radicalism.52 Elections for the Frankfurt Parliament occurred in April and May 1848 while elections for the Austrian Reichstag were held in June and July 1848. These democratic processes moved authority from provisional committees 48

Krones 1888, 65. Quoted in Sutter 1986, 262. 50 Krones 1888, 72–74. 51 Krones 1888, 73–74. 52 See for example the description given by Suess of his trip to Upper Austria and his meeting with the peasants there. Suess 1916, 60. 49

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towards more formal representative assemblies, shifting the balance from youth towards more established figures. Both Unger and Suess now took a backseat. Unger, possibly because of his nerves, went to his grandmother’s home in Gräfenberg (Gräfenberk) in Austrian Silesia. Suess sat in the galleries of the Riding School Hall on the Michaelerplatz following the debates of the Reichstag on the future of the Monarchy. Herbst, too, observed parliament from the galleries. He had returned to Vienna in the early months and had heard Lajos Kossuth speak, later stating that “to speak like that would be worth the efforts of an entire life!”53 There were rumours that Stadion, now Interior Minister, would make Herbst a Head of Department (Sektionschef). This never eventuated and Herbst soon returned to Lemberg. Lasser, who was thirty-four years old with considerable experience in the civil service, was elected both to Frankfurt and to Vienna. He opted for the Viennese parliament and sat on the left, though near the centre. He participated in the important constitutional and financial committees – then in September 1848 became a Vice-President of the Reichstag. He also presented a draft and made a notable speech in the groundbreaking discussions on the emancipation of the peasants. In November 1848, when the whole parliament moved to the provincial town of Kremsier (Kroměříž), Lasser followed. He continued to participate in important discussions, including the constitutional committee. Lasser, like Hasner, remained firm in his cen­ tralism and support of a strong state. The Frankfurt Parliament ran parallel to the Austrian Reichstag and dealt with a wide variety of matters, including the vexing and complicated question of German unification. Giskra, at the centre of action in the early days of the revolution in Vienna, was elected by the students to the Frankfurt Preparatory Parliament and then by his hometown Mährisch Trübau to the official assembly. He quickly made his name as a powerful and ­passionate speaker. Initially Giskra was fired by revolutionary idealism hoping for “Greater ­ Germany” including the Austrian lands, with the remaining parts of the monarchy – principally Hungary, Croatia, Northern Italy and ­Galicia – sharing the monarch in a personal union. In a celebrated speech he coined the phrase: “No Prussia, no Austria – one Germany!”54 Over time he ­gradually moved towards a stronger Austrian patriotism and a defense of the ­Monarchy as a Gesamtstaat.55 Kaiserfeld also attended the Frankfurt Parliament, though not from its inception. In December 1848 he was elected 53

Krones 1888, 89. Schütz 1909, 53. 55 Haintz 1962, 32–45. 54

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as a replacement ­representative, arriving in Frankfurt on 30 January 1849. Kaiserfeld quickly felt uncomfortable with the “hyper radical Doctors, such as Giskra and Berger” and kept company with the more moderate representatives from Tyrol, Upper Austria and Salzburg.56 Kaiserfeld felt out of place in Frankfurt and confessed that he no longer was a democrat.57 His experiences in Frankfurt were an important step in his turn towards a more conservative liberalism. In general, Kaiserfeld was never overly committed to the work of the Frankfurt parliament and on 14 April 1849 he left to return to his estate in Styria. The 1850s: Reorienting Lives and Ideas in the Shadow of the Revolution By the middle months of 1849, in the many theatres of the revolution in Central Europe, the momentum for change was slowing, even turning. In early March the Austrian Reichstag in Kremsier was dissolved, shortly after it had produced a constitutional draft. Stadion’s moderately progressive March constitution issued shortly afterwards did not make use of the constitutional committee’s draft. Lasser, who was in discussions with Stadion, had counseled some parliamentary involvement in the new constitution but Stadion’s constitution was decreed by the new Emperor Franz Joseph, rather than passed by a constituent assembly. Lasser was offered a post in the Interior Ministry under Stadion and decided to take it: How would opposition help now? I don’t agree with everything but how would dissatisfaction help? I am, above all, attempting to provide remedies, to avert and to improve; not simply to criticize and generate displeasure.58

Lasser’s subsequent rise in the civil service was meteoric. In August 1849 he became a ministerial advisor and in the next years provided trusted ­support for the new Interior Minister Bach. Lasser was named Head of Department (Sektionschef) on 10 November 1859, following the fall of Bach, then became Minister without Portfolio, heading the Justice Ministry on 20 October 1860 in Anton Ritter von Schmerling’s mildly liberal, bureaucratic government. He was instrumental in drafting the 1861 February Patent that set up a central parliament. In the subsequent elections he was immediately elected to the Salzburg Diet and the Imperial Reichsrat in 1861 as well as remaining in government, now as State Minister (or Minister for Political Administration). 56

Krones 1888, 89. Krones 1888, 93. 58 Müllner 1962, 16. 57

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Herbst had not been directly involved in the revolution and at the resumption of the university year returned to his professorship in Lemberg. His rise in the academic world was swift: Dean of the law faculty in 1851/2, then rector and pro-rector 1853–1855. His two-volume handbook on Austrian criminal law appeared in 1855 and cemented his reputation in legal circles. Three years later he moved to Prague University as Professor of Criminal Law and Jurisprudence and was elected dean of the law faculty shortly afterwards in 1859. His old friend Hasner had already been named Professor of Legal ­Philosophy at the same faculty in October 1849, a position created by his protector and the new Minister for Education, Count Leo Thun-­Hohenstein. ­Hasner would subsequently become Professor of Political Economy in 1851 and served as dean of the law faculty in 1852 and 1855. In Prague the two old friends shared a flat, frequented coffeehouses and discussed ­Austria’s situation. They also both participated in the wave of Schiller celebrations in 1859, giving speeches alongside their Czech colleagues. University life provided a refuge for Unger as well. After 1848 he followed the example of his good friend – and later university and ministerial colleague – Julius Glaser by registering as a student at a foreign university.59 Glaser had gone to Zurich while Unger chose Königsberg, Kant’s university in the far north east of Prussia, where he completed a degree in philosophy, writing a dissertation strongly influenced by Hegelian thought.60 Aspects of Hegelian thought persisted in Unger’s work, even as he moved towards the German historical school of jurisprudence exemplified by Friedrich Carl von Savigny, the long-term Professor of Roman Law at the University of ­Berlin.61 Unger returned to Vienna in 1850 to complete his law degree, which he passed on 4 November 1852. The examination board recognized his academic gifts by allowing him to give lectures in Vienna upon graduation. Shortly afterwards, following his conversion to Catholicism, he was named extraordinary Professor in Civil Law at Prague University – at the tender age of 25. Minister Thun-Hohenstein, who had been following ­Unger’s work, had made the appointment. The minister was seeking to change the basis of university legal methodology from the old positivist, rational traditions to the burgeoning historical-philosophical school. Unger’s astonishingly swift career progression is all the more r­ emarkable considering his past as a revolutionary and a Jew. The official attitude towards 59

Glaser and Unger were well known in Vienna as being the best of friends. Glaser was also a convert from Judaism. See the heartfelt tribute Unger 1885. 60 In his fragmentary reflections at the end of his life Unger acknowledged Hegel as one of his intellectual heroes. Unger 1909, 20. 61 For an overview of Unger’s legal methodology and thinking see Scherl 2005.

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his actions in 1848 is contained in the ministerial report prepared for Unger’s appointment as professor in Prague. It stated that during the events of 1848 he had generally held a distance from radical actions and had withdrawn from the scene after the May Days.62 Following the appointment in Prague his Jewish past was raised by a few clerical newspapers, which expressed general concern at the potential influence of “free thinkers” on young developing minds. Minister Thun-Hohenstein was motivated to write an anonymous defence in the Wiener Zeitung where he conceded Unger’s revolutionary past and Jewish background yet stated that Unger had always been far from anarchist tendencies and had left Vienna quite early in the course of the revolution. In addition, Thun-Hohenstein wrote that the Protestant idea of freedom of research would not be introduced in Austrian universities. The purpose of Unger’s appointment, the minister asserted, was simply to promote the historical school of jurisprudence and to aid domestic talent.63 In Prague Unger moved in the same circles as Hasner and Herbst. After two years there he returned to the University of Vienna as extraordinarius Professor. In the same year he went on a trip to Berlin with his friend, the music critic Hanslick, and met his intellectual forefather Savigny.64 Unger’s rapid ascent was crowned with a full professorship (ordinarius) in Civil Law at the University of Vienna in 1857. Around this time, he was in the process of writing and publishing his key work on Austrian private law, which, though remaining unfinished, would eventually encompass three weighty volumes appearing in 1856, 1864 and 1868. Already, in his inaugural lecture at Prague University, Unger had stated his intentions to represent Austrian private law as a complete system. The three volumes appearing over the next decade received widespread acclaim and would become classics in the field. Nevertheless, some of his contemporaries, including fellow liberal-minded law graduates, were prepared to criticize his work. This was typical of the strong opinions and forceful individuality within the broad umbrella of the liberal movement. Berger, who had participated in the 1848 Vienna revolutions and the Frankfurt Parliament, published a lengthy critique of Unger’s first volume as did Unger’s childhood friend, Heinrich Jaques. It led to a lifelong enmity between Unger and Jaques. They had grown up together as two gifted Viennese Jews, often playing music together (Unger was an extremely 62

Frankfurter 1917, 55–57. Frankfurter 1917, 89–93. 64 Neue Freie Presse, 2 July 1898: Eduard Hanslick, Mit Unger. It should be noted that Hanslick, a native of Prague, was taught journalism by Hasner. Schütz 1909, 74. Hanslick would later become the most famous music critic in Vienna and was immortalized as the pedantic Beckmesser in Wagner’s opera Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. 63

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talented pianist who had in his youth played for Liszt, while Jaques was an accomplished cellist). They mixed in the same social milieu, a world of highly educated, wealthy, cultured, often Jewish families.65 Unger would in 1882 marry a member of this social world, Freiin Emma von Schey, w ­ idowed Freiin von Worms, who was also a convert from Judaism and whose family similarly traced its origins to Hungary. Kaiserfeld, back in his life in Styria and sobered by the experiences in Frankfurt, continued to be preoccupied with thoughts of reform. Throughout 1849 and 1850 he wrote numerous articles for the local Graz news­papers outlining his ideas as well as trying to make sense of events and his personal experiences.66 Many of the articles revolved around the themes of regional autonomy, German predominance and a strong Austrian state. His last ­article appeared in January 1850 whereupon Kaiserfeld focused on his estate in ­Birkfeld and his work there as mayor. In private, however, K ­ aiserfeld remained immersed in the larger questions of Austria’s governance, administration, finances, laws, religious policy and general institutional framework. He even drafted a lengthy memorandum on these issues in the mid 1850s and sent it to the emperor.67 In the paper, he expressed his strong support for the unity of the Austrian state but left the door open on a possible link to Germany. Kaiserfeld, however, was no simple centralist and argued for a strong autonomous local authority.68 Overall, he believed that Bach’s bureaucratic, centralist, non-parliamentary system had neither promoted ­patriotism, ­loyalty, civil rights nor cultural progress. “Whoever observes the domestic situation of Austria will have to say that until now the government has not fulfilled the great tasks which it has faced” he opined.69 In conclusion ­Kaiserfeld argued for an “imperial representative body or an imperial committee” to participate in governmental decision-making.70 Kaiserfeld’s belief in a powerful Austrian state subject to a Rechtstaat and representative bodies reflected the prevailing liberal ideas in the wake of 1848. Liberal ideals such as a constitution and parliamentary institutions were not sacrificed, rather they could co-exist with and aid the development of a modern, centralized state. The state needed to be responsive to

65 66 67 68 69 70

For evocative descriptions and in-depth analysis of this world see Rossbacher 2003 and Coen 2007. Krones 1888, 91–115. Krones 1888, 127 Krones 1888, 131. Krones 1888, 141. Krones 1888, 148.

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the ­populace (Bach had also recognized this) and the representative bodies could mediate this interaction. Soon there were small steps in this direction. In 1859 the Emperor called a Styrian commission for consultation into local authority and Kaiserfeld was ready to pick up his public activity again, now with his fully formed ideas alongside considerable political and administrative experience. A stream of articles from Kaiserfeld’s pen appeared in the course of 1859 and 1860 as the Emperor and the Monarchy deliberated its future. In 1861 he was elected to the Styrian Diet (and was also named as deputy to the Landeshauptmann, the president of the diet and head of the autonomous administration of the province), then was sent to the Viennese Reichsrat. Another Austrian representative at Frankfurt, Giskra, had been more committed to the German parliament but eventually had to return home to Austria. He arrived back in Vienna on 12 July 1849, was immediately met by the police chief and then taken to his mother-in-law’s house. Throughout the 1850s he was not allowed to practice as an independent lawyer in Vienna and was under constant police surveillance. Financially Giskra did well, particularly in dealings with Hungarian financial institutions, however his professional career stalled and he repeatedly petitioned for permission to practice law. Eventually he was allowed to open a law office, not in Vienna but back in Brünn in 1860. One year later he was elected to the Moravian Diet, and then to the Reichsrat where he quickly became a leading figure. He would also be mayor of Brünn from July 1866 to December 1867, whereupon he became interior minister in the Bürgerministerium. Giskra was not alone in suffering under the 1850s system. Suess was imprisoned for his involvement in the 1848 revolution but then prospered under the tutelage of Minister Thun-Hohenstein. Initially, Suess continued his life as before. In late 1848 and the early months of 1849 he stayed with his maternal grandparents in Prague. He returned to Vienna in the summer of 1849 and continued his studies at the Polytechnic Institute. It seemed as if Suess’s involvement in 1848 would be passed over by the authorities. It was not until December 1850 in a bizarre scene more suited to a spy novel that Suess’s history caught up with him and his family. While his father was walking through St. Stephen’s Square in the centre of Vienna, a former employee suddenly approached, warned him to expect a house visit from the police and then disappeared. The family immediately searched their home for any incriminating items but found nothing. The expected police visit came at 6.30 am on 16 December 1850 and Suess was taken into custody. He was then placed in the jail for political prisoners without a trial or any charges being made. After a month in jail he received a message from his father

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(­hidden in a soufflé) to say that he would be freed. He was subsequently released, again without any legal or bureaucratic paperwork.71 Suess could not return to the Polytechnic Institute after such notoriety and in any case, the study of geology had begun to capture his interest. He worked in the Court Museum’s geological division, quickly becoming an assistant to the director. He met the director’s niece and they married in 1855, including a honeymoon trip to Paris. It was time for Suess to further his career, but a university post was not possible since he had never been a registered student. In fact, his further education had continued informally through participation in regular Monday night meetings about the natural sciences and through private research into geology. Yet this did not provide a clear career path. Suess decided to send a letter to Count Thun-Hohenstein along with references from various professors and was called in for a meeting with the minister. Thun-Hohenstein wanted to help the young researcher and named him extraordinarius Professor at Vienna University. Suess was only twenty-five years old. Around this time he went on a long research trip to Berlin, Belgium, Paris and Normandy where he met many luminaries in his field. Suess was rapidly advancing in his career and his revolutionary past seemed long distant. In March 1863 he was approached by the Viennese City Council to advise on the city’s water supply and was shortly afterwards, in an organized backroom deal, elected unopposed as a councillor. In 1867 he became full Professor of Geology after Vienna University had awarded him a honorary doctorate. He was elected to the Lower Austrian Diet in 1869 and the Reichsrat in 1873, where he quickly became a leading voice amongst the liberals. He was also on the path to becoming a world expert in geology. Conclusion Over the 1860s and 1870s, the liberals began to occupy important positions within the ministries, representative bodies, high bureaucracy and local administration. They were nearly all in their forties or fifties and were becoming the new establishment. This ascension to political dominance had seemed a distant possibility in the days of the Vormärz and in the immediate years after 1848–49. How, then, can one assess the development of this liberal generation from the Vormärz through the 1848 revolutions and the decade of the 1850s? What sort of political education did they collectively acquire? What were their key shared experiences and how were their common ideas formed and shaped? The answer from Unger was clear: “I was born in 1828 71

These events are recounted in Suess 1916, 77–90.

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but I first saw the light of the world in 1848.”72 Indeed, the 1848 revolutions were the defining event for the generation. The ­multiple and interconnected 1848 revolutions functioned – in accordance with M ­ annheim’s model – as a process of dynamic destabilization when traditional institutions and ways of behavior were questioned and fundamentally reassessed. Indistinct, abstract ideas took shape and acquired detail through the many and varied experiences in public meetings, press articles, committees, representative bodies and private discussions. Pieter Judson in his history of Austrian liberalism has emphasized the formation of a “common discourse” around the rights and duties of citizens during the 1848 revolutions.73 The course of events forced people – especially the young, engaged, educated elite – to take sides, to argue positions and to form groupings. The issues raised by the 1848 revolutions – constitutional governance, citizen rights, administration, social reform, national demands, peasant emancipation, amongst many others – revolved around fundamental ideas about politics and society. Ideas stood at the centre of the liberal movement; they defined the liberals as a distinct group. According to Mannheim, ­ideology plays an important role in forging a generation’s identity, especially when a movement covers a wide geographic area. Kaiserfeld, for example, had little contact before the 1860s with his fellow reform liberals in Vienna, however, there was a shared belief in constitutional reform and a mildly progressive Austrian state and society, which promoted a sense of brotherhood and common mission, even if there were disagreements over tactics and specific issues. During the Vormärz, these ideas of the younger generation were unformed and indistinct, focusing around vague conceptions of a constitution, representative bodies, citizen rights, freedom of the press and “reform”. In the course of 1848 and 1849 the liberals grappled with complex issues and participated in substantive, significant discussions in a variety of contexts – committee meetings, parliamentary proceedings, public debates, vigorous press commentary and private conversations. Yet the 1848 revolutions had not ostensibly achieved its grand overall goals – either in building a modern, progressive Austria or in forming a united Germany – though many individual achievements, such as peasant emancipation (Lasser was very involved in the debate), remained. In the ­decade of the 1850s, the liberals had to deal with and explain the course of the revolutions and the reassertion of the conservative monarchy and tradi72 73

Unger 1909, 20. I have been influenced by Judson’s pioneering work. Judson 1996, 29–68 and in more depth Judson 1998.

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tional, authoritarian state. Liberal ideas continued to be debated in private but had to be adjusted in the light of events. In general, liberal thinking over the course of the 1850s moved closer to the Austrian state, becoming more respectful of order and more accommodating towards central, bureaucratic, administrative reform.74 It did not, overall, become more radical or democratic or evince anti-dynastic sentiments (akin to republican ideals). In fact, there was recognition that important changes could be implemented through a strong state, such as the reforms implemented by Thun-Hohenstein’s education ministry and Karl Bruck’s finance ministry. Unger was typical here. In his final reflections on life he noted: “Without subordination – no order. Without order – no freedom. Law and order [English in original] is the talk of all English parties.”75 In relation to parliament, Unger rather resignedly conceded that “a bad parliament is still better than none at all.”76 In relation to government, taking into account Austria’s diverse population and political system, Unger advocated: A government which stands high above the parties, as God’s spirit floats above the waters – “a government from above, not below” [original in English], not all powerful parties, rather state sovereignty. A government with iron discipline which oversees the bureaucracy so there are no political party viewpoints or national motives, so that the bureaucracy is guided in strict accordance with laws and rights according to the constitution (Government comes before the Liberty: John Seeley [original in English]). The bureaucracy enters into individual lives, often enough with a harsh hand, while the constitution deals with the whole collective, with the state.77

For Austria, these attitudes balancing order and freedom, a powerful bureaucracy and constitutional government were typically of the liberals (or of the Left). For them, the state could play an important role in the liberal vision of a regenerated Austria, but it had to be constrained by the constitution, the law, representative bodies and institutional “checks and balances” (such as an administrative court or substantial local government autonomy). Kaiserfeld, for example, articulated a version of this moderate liberal position in his writings from the 1850s. In general, the liberals combined respect with caution towards the Austrian state. While they placed themselves in the traditions of Maria Theresia and Joseph II (especially in favour of a unified state and reform from above), they were wary of absolutist, executive ten74

This point has been made by Judson 1996, 69–73. In Germany, there was a turn towards Realpolitik by the younger generation of 1848 revolutionaries. Möller 2003. 75 Unger 1911, 168. This is an enlarged edition, possibly for the German market, of Unger 1909. 76 Unger 1909, 16. 77 Unger 1909, 99.

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dencies within the bureaucracy. In general, the core beliefs in a constitution, the gradual modernization of the Austrian state and the leading role of the German element were slowly emerging as focal points for the movement, though there continued to be a wide diversity of opinion (or heterogeneity) within the broad umbrella of Austrian liberalism. Personally, the 1850s were a decade when many of the future liberal ­leaders achieved great success and recognition. This also had the effect of moderating viewpoints and of engendering respect for the Austrian state. For the three legal professors Hasner, Herbst and Unger, the 1850s were the great years of career advancement – their first publications, rise within departments, university responsibilities and administration. It was only Giskra, amongst the seven liberals covered in this article, who faced considerable, lasting setbacks in building a career and gaining professional experience. Count Thun-Hohenstein played a key role in the process of incorporating talented, younger individuals into the academic establishment.78 He was an intellectually-oriented reformer as well as a political conservative. Despite the minister’s strict Catholic convictions, he facilitated the careers of many future liberals, both professionally and personally, and was on friendly terms with many of the younger generation of reformers.79 Unger, for example, felt comfortable speaking with Thun-Hohenstein about obtaining a professorship in Music (extraordinarius) for his friend Hanslick.80 Hasner, whose career had been guided by Thun, wrote letters to Thun describing his academic work, his need for holidays, the state of his family, confidential assessments of his professorial colleagues and various other minor matters.81 In his ­memoirs, Suess noted that all shades of the political spectrum respected Thun-Hohenstein, even where there were profound differences of opinion.82 Suess’s admiration is hardly surprising considering the help the minister had provided at the outset of his academic career. Thun-Hohenstein’s influence 78

79 80

81 82

For some examples of Thun-Hohenstein’s personal involvement in university appointments, including details about Unger, see Lentze 1962, 113–148. More general, see ­Aichner & Mazohl 2017. A recent essay outlines some different aspects of Thun-Hohenstein’s ideas and life linking this to the multi-faceted legacy of the Enlightenment. Fillafer 2017. Neue Freie Presse, 2 July 1898: Eduard Hanslick, Mit Unger. Hanslick only became a Professor in Aesthetics (1861) after Count Thun-Hohenstein had left the ministry of education. See the letters from Hasner to Thun dated 12 July 1850, 11 July 1858 and undated (probably 1852–53) at thun-korrespondenz.uibk.ac.at. Suess 1916, 108–122. An example of liberal animus against Thun-Hohenstein was Herbst, who criticized Thun-Hohenstein’s university reforms. Feichtinger & Fillafer 2017, 369–372.

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can also be seen in Hasner’s initial appointment to Prague University, in Herbst’s transfer from Lemberg to Prague and Unger’s meteoric rise in academia. Thun-Hohenstein was not alone in promoting talented youthful indivi­ duals. For Lasser, it was first Stadion and then Bach who smoothed the path for career progression at the higher levels of bureaucracy. Bach was involved in the early days of the 1848 revolutions, especially in the Legal-Political Reading Association, then became Justice Minister in July 1848, working with Lasser on the draft for peasant emancipation. He would later be entrusted, as Interior Minister, with shaping the administrative structure and institutions of neo-absolutist Austria. Part of this task was to incorporate young talent into state service.83 Lasser, only a year younger than Bach, was a valued colleague throughout this process of “reform from above”, involving centralization and standardization on the basis of the monarch’s sole authority.84 Many other reform-minded bureaucrats who would later become liberal ministers also participated in the reforms of the 1850s – Ignaz Edler von Plener, Adolf Freiherr von Pratobevera, Josef Freiherr von Kalchberg, Ludwig Ritter (later Freiherr) von Holzgethan and Sisinio (later Freiherr) de Pretis. Thus in the crucial decade after the 1848 revolutions many of the “liberal generation” were working inside the centralist, absolutist state.85 They participated in and gave form to the new bureaucratic ethos inspired by Bach, which was based around the ideals of loyalty, service, objectivity, moral propriety and engagement with the populace.86 By 1861 the liberal generation had reflected deeply on its basic ideals while also acquiring experience of higher offices within various institutions and the state. As the press became freer and Emperor Franz Joseph searched for a new system of government, there was an outpouring of publications from many liberals who now had an opportunity to voice their thoughts. Kaiserfeld, for example, wrote numerous articles while Unger co-authored a lengthy brochure.87 Berger, Kalchberg and Jaques along with many ­others

83

Neue Freie Presse, 18 November 1893: Alexander Bach. Nach dessen Mitteilungen. For the European context see Clark 2012. There have been a number of recent works on neo-absolutism. Heindl 2013b, Brandt 2014, Seiderer 2015 and Aichner & Mazohl 2017. 85 See Heindl 2013b, 45–75, Heindl 2014 and Deak 2015, 121–135. 86 Heindl 2013b, 54–59. 87 Kaiserfeld’s articles of the early 1860s are chronicled in Krones 1888, 157–189. For Unger see Fischhof & Unger 1861. 84

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published pamphlets on a wide variety of political and legal topics.88 ­Hasner, Herbst and Giskra were at the forefront of parliamentary debates and liaised with the liberal press.89 The liberals were ready to assume leadership of Austrian politics in 1861 and had far-reaching, deeply-considered ideas of reform. In becoming the new elite, the practical experiences in the higher bureaucracy during the decade of the 1850s were far more important to the liberals’ political education than the time in the Lower Austrian legal office during the Vormärz. For Lasser the time in the interior ministry under Stadion and Bach was invaluable in giving a sense of the workings of the ­Austrian state as well as its manifold challenges and possibilities. This proved crucial in implementing far-reaching reforms to the institutional, legal and political framework in the post-1861 liberal era. There was still considerable resistance to the liberal wave of the 1860s from conservative institutions such as the Catholic church, the aristocracy, the army and some parts of the bureaucracy. Any effective liberal government required a bureaucratic minister who knew the workings of the Austrian state from the inside and could therefore deal with this entrenched resistance. Lasser served in this capacity in the Schmerling (1861–1865) and Prince Adolf Auersperg (1871–1879) cabinets, while Count Eduard Taaffe performed this function in the Bürgerministerium (1867–1870), including a short stint as minister-president at its end.90 Ultimately, the liberal reformers gained their skills for future parliamentary and governmental work during the 1848 revolutions and the neo-absolutist 1850s, rather than their short stints in the lower bureaucracy of the Vormärz. We now return to Herbst’s assertion about his time in the legal office ­during the Vormärz. Why then did he and others place such a stress on this experience in later assessments of individual Austrian liberals and of the ­liberal movement itself? For example, Ernst (later Freiherr) von Plener, the only son of Ignaz and the liberal leader following Herbst, described his predecessor in the following words: He [Herbst] was the [typical] old liberal of the Vormärz, who retained good faith in the constitutional ideas and therefore overestimated the importance of parliamentary life for Austria.91 88

Berger 1861; Kalchberg 1860; Jaques 1861 a, b and c. Others included Carneri 1861, Czedik & Eysenberg 1861, Friedmann 1862, Perthaler 1860a and b, Reschauer 1861 and Schuselka 1861 along with numerous anonymous pamphlets and, of course, the flood of newspapers and journals. 89 See Kwan 2015. 90 See the interesting comments from Giskra on Taaffe’s importance to the Bürgerministe­ rium. Pollak 1894–1898, II 223. 91 Plener 1921, 440

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Similarly, when the Neue Freie Presse assessed Unger’s life, stress was placed on the Vormärz: He had contributed to forcing open the narrow, church dominated Austria of the Vormärz and to imbue [Austria] with the spiritual life of German humanism and the free indivi­ dualism of European liberalism.92

In other eulogies and obituaries for liberals written from the 1880s to the early years of the 20th century, the Vormärz was portrayed as a time of stasis, backwardness and drift, while the 1848 generation of willing reformers was cast as idealists and activists for a progressive, modern Austria. The reason for this heavily stylized narrative lay in the political context of the 1880s and afterwards, when the liberals were in eclipse, challenged both from above and below. Count Taaffe’s conservative government in the 1880s and early 1890s followed by a series of bureaucratic cabinets (with a short interlude from late 1893 to mid-1895 of a coalition government including the liberals under Ernst Plener) forced the liberals to question their implicit assumption, held since the 1860s, that they were the natural governing party – the heirs to Austria’s state traditions. In addition, the new younger German nationalists were forming strong activist associations and professional political networks in opposition to the hitherto dominant liberals.93 Under these circumstances, both the liberal press and the liberal politicians attempted to highlight the achievements of two decades at the heart of the political and governmental system. By emphasizing the backwardness of the Vormärz and the sweeping changes that had subsequently been introduced, the liberals were defending their record as well as trying to shore up shifting bourgeois support, which was increasingly moving towards German nationalism and the Christian Socials. Moreover, by emphasizing the idealism of liberalism’s challenge to the Vormärz, a distinction was being drawn between the noble goals of freedom, a progressive state and an open society compared to the horse-trading of the Taaffe government, the narrow focus of the nationalist parties and the general emerging cynicism about politics. The political context of the 1880s also explains Herbst’s references to Josephinism and the experience of bureaucratic work in the Vormärz. Herbst was not making a reasoned, balanced assessment of his upbringing. Rather, his statements were coded attacks on the Taaffe government for dismantling the Josephinist state and its traditions as well as stressing how the liberals had participated in building that state and had sustained its traditions. By presenting the Vormärz 92

Neue Freie Presse, 2 May 1913: Georg Jellinek, Josef Unger. This feuilleton was first published in the same paper on 2 July 1898 for Unger’s 70th birthday. 93 Kwan 2013, 121–140, 157–178.

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symbolically as a time of stasis, inaction and suppression (in fact, there were considerable changes socially, economically and ideologically, especially after 1830), the liberals were “de-authorizing the fathers” and defending their alternative progressive vision.94 The Vormärz as a negative caricature was part of the system of shared symbols and understandings that bound the 1848 generation together. Held together by a common set of beliefs, forged by shared experiences and close personal contacts, the generation follows Mannheim’s schema fairly closely. The social and economic backgrounds of the liberals were important so far as enabling a formal education and instilling bourgeois values of service, hard work and self-improvement. Ultimately, though, it was their experiences in 1848 and their common ideological commitment to political, administrative and legal reform that defined the liberals and distinguished them from the predecessors and successors. Giskra described his relations with Herbst as follows: Our comradeship began in early youth. The year 1848 led us in different directions. Afterwards, when we had got in touch again, we went into parliament shoulder to shoulder. The negotiations over Herbst’s entry into the government were begun by me and completed by me. At the start he didn’t want it at all. I forced the issue and then he agreed. In government we worked together on all the great questions.95

Even with the many disagreements and rifts in the liberal movement, its followers could unite around shared core beliefs and act as a collective. Examples include the defence of the constitution (such as against its suspension in 1865 or against the Hohenwart government’s agreement with the Czech politicians in 1871), state control of education and overall religious matters (the Education and May Laws of 1868), parliamentary control of spending (numerous military debates) and building a framework of liberal institutions (local government, legal reforms and the separation of justice and administration). Despite the many personal rivalries and intrigues, despite the many differences of opinion, despite the contrasting backgrounds, the liberal generation of 1848 was an astonishingly coherent, compact grouping. The generation’s achievements, ideas and legacy would profoundly mark the Habsburg Monarchy.

94 95

Feuer 1969, 12–15. See also Spitzer 1973, 1365. Quoted in Hartmeyer 1949, 45.

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The Legally Trained Civil Servants in Moravia and Silesia 1848–1918

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The Legally Trained Civil Servants in Moravia and Silesia 1848–19181 Andrea Pokludová Civil service and bureaucracy are different things, civil service is a necessity in every well run state, bureaucracy is the misfortune of everyone.2

The words of Karel Havlíček Borovský, the Czech journalist and poli­ tician, from 1850 hold true even today. The relationship to the state civil service has always been and will be ambivalent. The civil service of the Habsburg monarchy has received attention in recent years within the research focused on the social structures of society.3 It examines its development, prestige, social habitus, role, function and the interaction between the state administration and society.4 The civil service represents a broad professional group, but this essay will concentrate on the political administration. While leaving aside the highest floors of the official hierarchy in Vienna, the focus is on the civil service of county administration centres (Bezirkshauptmannschaften) before the Great War. The crucial question is: Who were the legally trained civil servants in Moravian and Silesian towns? The political and social role of the Imperial Austrian civil service has already been treated in its basic outlines.5 By researching individual and collective biographies a broader and more complete picture emerges.6 1

This study was financed through the Czech Science Foundation project CSF 13-28086S: Historical Process of Modernization (using the example of Austrian Silesia). 2 Slovan, 11 June 1850. 3 Heindl 1992, Havelka 2007, Hlavačka 2007, Machačová 2001, Machačová & ­Matějček 2007, Macková 2001a and b, Melanová 2004, Vošáhliková 1997. 4 Pokludová 2008a and b, 2013. See Gary B. Cohen’s contribution to this v­ olume, 49–65. 5 Vyskočil 2009, 12–26 for an overview of Czech historiography. 6 The collective biography processed from prosopographical data (religion, everyday ­language – Umgangssprache, marital status, date and place of birth, place of residence, structure of households according to family members, ownership of living quarters, employ­ment of servants and level of housing) taken from the population census, address books and parish registers has substantial informative value in terms of social history, but information on civil commitment on the level of communal politics and associations or on the social status of the official in local society is missing. Local newspapers are a primary source for gathering this information.

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Studies of selected Moravian and Silesian county offices provide answers to the questions raised.7 The political state administration accepted only men with completed legal education at a public university, but a doctorate in law was not necessary; applicants took qualification exams during their required initial internship as Konzeptspraktikanten. Those, who passed the viva voce exam, were aware of the prestige of their newly acquired status and title. In the modernizing civil society, a title of nobility was not replaced by a law degree or qualification through examinations. A noble or even aristocratic origin provided a certain advantage at the beginning of the career; name and family connections led to “better” posts at the start of the career. However, even though descendants of noble families started with an advantage, it was the ability to fulfil the obligations of the office according to the official role model that determined the rise to the top of the career ladder. And not every legally trained civil servant (Konzeptsbeamter) with a noble title came from an “old” family. An official could be bestowed such a title in the course of his career as an award for his exceptional service. Exemplary performance in service of the sovereign resulted in the granting of honours or an order. A career in the political administration was thus preceded by studying law, practical training in a political office and the qualification exams. Only after passing these initial steps and taking the oaths of office, an applicant was guaranteed a permanent official position and further career advancement. In social practice, the state service enabled the ascent of intelligent men from the middle classes of the urban and rural population. Some graduates of the law faculties saw civil service as attractive, not just for the reason of wearing a uniform, one of the most visible attributes of a state official, but especially because of the occupational guarantees: tenure, vacation, pension and so forth. When studying legally trained civil servants, it is essential to recognize the circle of administered official agendas on the level of the county administration. The term political administration meant first of all assuring public safety, i.e. an extensive police agenda including censorship of the press or oversight of the activities of civic associations. In a broader sense, the concept of safety also included the public infrastructure: school, health, social

7

The research was conducted for the Silesian capital of Troppau (Opava), the seat of the provincial government and a county administration (Bezirkshauptmannschaft), the traditional Moravian administrative centre of Olmütz (Olomouc), the stagnating small textile town of Mistek (Místek), also a county seat, and the dynamically expanding industrial town of Mährisch Ostrau (Moravská Ostrava), which was the seat of a newly created administrative district since 1900.

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and construction sectors. The third circle of activities comprised the registration of the populace. The Bezirkshauptmann, the head of the county administration, represented the office, and all state civil servants and the ­auxiliary office workforce in the county were his subjects. He was not an official closed behind the walls of his office, but a public personage representing the state in a dignified way. He was present at ceremonial acts, including church ceremonies. In the name of the sovereign, he handed out awards to local personalities. He welcomed the visits of important people in the county. In cooperation with the Gendarmerie he ensured public order. A civil servant was supposed to be neutral, apolitical, dignified and courteous. Since he was the representative of the state in the local setting, his behaviour outside the office required dignity and politeness, not partisanship. But a legally trained civil servant was not excluded from political participation. On the contrary, he had the privilege of active and passive voting rights in municipal councils, provincial diets and the Austrian parliament from his position as a member of the local elite. The successful career of a legally trained civil servant required not only the fulfilment of his official obligations but also a decent private life. His household was to be completely ordered. The perfect public life should be complimented by ideal family relations. So if an official’s wife decided to live separately, this almost certainly excluded him from further career promotions. The accommodation of the official was also part of his public appearance. The apartment was expected to be a good address, large enough to reflect his position and appropriately furnished. He had to employ a servant for performing domestic work. He and his family needed to live well but without debts. This expectation of a decent but debt free lifestyle stemmed from the idea that an indebted state official represented a potential risk of corruption. Suspicions of corruption could result in the transfer to a less prestigious position in a remote place. In reality, only the Bezirkshauptmann, who inhabited the official apartment as the head of the county administration, was relatively safe to live the expected public and private life. For all other officials, it was difficult to meet all demands of their expected lifestyle. Their incomes stagnated in the long term. On the eve of the Great War the salaries did not match inflation and the rising prices of basic foodstuffs, goods and services. The outbreak of war and the associated general dearth further deteriorated their everyday living conditions. The careers of four men, each of them a somewhat different specimen of the “typical” civil servant, provide personal examples of these career ­patterns. Freiherr Hermann von Pillersdorff represents the traditional n­ obility – ­barons since 1792 – in the civil service, while Martin Woytech Edler von Willfest

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was elevated to the nobility in 1869 at the end of his term of duty. Their careers provide information on the period before and around 1900, while the professional lives of Oskar Schmejda and Josef Šrámek started later and continued into the interwar years after 1918. Pillersdorff’s career as a civil servant8 was predetermined by his birth into a family of officials, with whose name the constitution of 1848 is inseparably associated. He was born in Brünn (Brno) on 28 May 1850 to ­Hermann and Adolfina von Pillersdorff. His father was the nephew of Franz von Pillersdorff, prime minister in 1848 and a parliamentarian in the revolutionary Austrian Reichstag as well as in the Reichsrat established in 1861. At the time of his son’s birth, the elder Hermann was Bezirkshauptmann in the Moravian c­ apital Brünn.9 His mother Adolfina came from the successful Moravian entrepreneurial family Klein, which in 1859 was awarded the title of Edler von Wisenberg and later raised to the level of Ritter (1864) and Freiherr (1872). In 1854, the family moved to the Slovakian town Trentschin (Trencsén, Trenčín), where the father headed the district administration (­Komitat), and in 1863, when the elder Hermann was appointed governor (Landespräsident),10 to the Silesian capital Troppau (Opava). In the census of 1870, he reported living with his family (wife, younger son and two daughters) in an official apartment at the seat of the provincial government. According to the data in this form, the younger Hermann was studying at Vienna University’s Faculty of Law. His law studies were preceded by the years at a Viennese elite grammar school, the k. k. Obergymnasium der Theresianischen Akademie. A few days after his graduation as doctor of law on 27 July 1876, he entered the state civil service at the Moravian governorate (Statthalterei) in Brünn and was appointed a trainee official (Konzeptspraktikant) on 5 August. Soon afterwards, he married the fiveyear-younger Věra Tolstoj, the adopted daughter of Count Lev Tolstoj. The young couple remained in Brünn, where their first son, also named Hermann, was born on 2 August 1877.11 While the mother was Greek Orthodox, the first-born son was baptised a Roman Catholic in the presence of relatives in Brünn’s St Peter and Paul Cathedral. The second son, Manfred, was born 8

Vyskočil 2011, 215–217. On the father’s career, see Malíř et al 2012, 486–487, Adlgasser 2014a, 921. 10 The head of the state provincial administration was called Statthalter in the more prestigious and Landespräsident in the smaller crownlands, the offices accordingly Statthalterei and Landesregierung. The functions were the same. 11 Moravský zemský archiv Brno (Moravian Country Archive Brno), Brno sv. Petr a ­Pavel birth register 1860–1880, fol. 427 [http://actapublica.eu/matriky/brno/prohlizec/7931/ ?strana=219, accessed 22 January 2016]. 9

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on 31 July 1878.12 The family resided for several years in Brünn, where ­Hermann successfully continued his official career at the governorate and later at the county administration. The turning point in Pillersdorff’s career occurred in the fall of 1889, when he transferred to the post of Bezirkshauptmann in Olmütz (Olomouc). A change in this position was a public matter, which the regional press ­covered in detail. In early November, the Mährisches Tagblatt reported that Statthaltereirat Carl Khade von Kolbenau was retiring as Bezirkshauptmann. For this occasion, a banquet was arranged, at which the retiring Khade made his farewell to the representatives of the archdiocese and the local political dignitaries. On 9 November, a short note appeared in the paper, announcing Pillersdorff’s appointment: “Der mit dem Titel und Charakter eines Statthaltereirathes bekleidete k. k. Bezirkshauptmann Dr. Hermann Freiherr von Pillersdorff wurde von Brünn nach Olmütz übersetzt.“13 The Czech press mentioned that the title of Statthaltereirat had been granted to the new appointee by the emperor in connection with his transfer to Olmütz. The papers further informed their readers that on 12 November Pillersdorff planned to visit Olmütz to inspect his apartment at the seat of the county administration. His official arrival a few days later became a public event. On 25 November, he was ceremonially welcomed at the railway station by the employees of his office and the representatives of the communities of the county. The press mentioned the fact that he thanked for the welcome in the ethnically mixed region first in German and then in Czech. The following day, he assumed office from his predecessor, and a day later, his subordinate officials were introduced to him. Afterwards he received the representatives of the communities for the first time in his official capacity.14 After temporary accommodation at the Hotel Lauer, the city’s first address, he moved with his family into the official apartment. According to the census sheet, it consisted of ten rooms, an entrance hall and a kitchen. He employed a domestic staff of six people. Pillersdorff held the office of Bezirkshauptmann until the end of September 1897, when he was transferred to the governorate in Brünn. The regional press again informed the public of his departure. Besides the reports on the customary farewell banquet, the information given on his character traits is 12

Ibid., fol. 455 [http://actapublica.eu/matriky/brno/prohlizec/7931/?strana=233, accessed 22 January 2016]. 13 Mährisches Tagblatt, 9 November 1889. Title and character meant that someone had the title, but not the function associated with it in the civil service’s hierarchy. 14 See the coverage in Mährisches Tagblatt and Našinec, the leading German and Czech papers in the city.

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noteworthy, because at a time of rampant nationalism he appears as being neutral and fair towards the German and Czech populations. The Czech paper Našinec stated, “the county has lost a fair and appreciative administrator in the man’s departure. Concerning national relations, he always decided in a neutral manner and in accordance with the law, which serves only to honour him. He took over the office in a poor state. He had to intervene energetically, with his strict conduct he acquired special admiration everywhere in all classes of the population regardless of their nationality.”15 The German counterpart, Mährisches Tagblatt, also wrote that he had acted impartially and objectively. He fulfilled the ideal of the Austrian civil servant not only through his official conduct, but also in his behaviour off duty.16 From 1898 on, Hofrat Pillersdorff was the second-in-command at the ­Moravian ­governorate and after the governor’s resignation in September 1906 he temporarily headed the office (Leiter der Statthalterei). He reached the zenith of his career when he was appointed vice-president of the governorate (­Statthalterei-Vize-Präsident) in April 1907, while still remaining in charge of the governorate. The press speculated that his appointment as governor was prevented by his difficult family situation, which did not correspond with the ideal of a top official, the so-called conduct of life (standesgemäße Lebensführung).17 According to the census form of 1900, his wife and elder son actually lived in Naples, Italy, while the younger son studied law at the University of Vienna.18 A wife living permanently separated from her husband was still not acceptable for a governor who was, after all, the personal representative of the Emperor in the province. Regarding the general and fervent nationalist passions, which were rampant in society at the very time of the 1900 census, when a conflict was going on at all fronts concerning everyday language use, Pillersdorff and his family declared that German was their colloquial language, but the servants in his household were permitted to state that they used Czech.19

15

Našinec, 1 October 1897. Mährisches Tagblatt, 30 September 1897. 17 See Therese Garstenauer’s contribution to this volume, 213–231. 18 Neither son joined the civil service in Moravia or Silesia. The younger son, Manfred, ­married Elisabeth Klein Freiin von Wisenberg in 1909, strengthening the ties of the Pillers­ dorff family to the Kleins. Manfred published two books on his hunting ­experiences: Aus der Wildbahn der Sudeten. Jagderlebnisse (Wien–Leipzig 1920) and Rund ums Weid­ werk. Erlebnisse und Erzählungen (Wien–Leipzig 1921). 19 Archiv města Brna (Brno City Archive), digital archive, census records 1900 [http:// digiarchiv.brno.cz/archive/id/797e9f00-65d1-4e95-8102-1bcc1d295450?datatext=1900 ***Neugasse***36***3025, accessed 22 January 2016]. 16

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It is unclear if Pillersdorff’s health problems affected his performance in office, but he died prematurely on 10 October 1907 of a degenerative heart disease. The reference to his long illness in the obituary puts his non-appointment as ­governor into a slightly different light.20 In many ways, Pillersdorff represented the ideal Austrian senior civil servant, and due to his merits, in 1903 he was awarded a high decoration, the Knight’s Cross of the Order of ­Leopold. Although he did not become governor, unlike his father, he was the epitome of an apolitical official. While it is possible, even plausible, that his career benefited from his family connections, he did not follow in the political footsteps of his great-uncle Franz, his father or his brother-in-law, Hubert Klein Freiherr von Wisenberg, who were all at some time elected members of the Austrian parliament. Loyalty to the sovereign and aloofness from politics were integral parts of the ideal role model for civil servants, and Pillersdorff the Younger was a prime example. Although the civil service was meant to be apolitical, it was not excluded from the political world. On the contrary it entailed the privilege of having the right to vote. Legally trained civil servants could vote for the local representations, the provincial diets and the central parliament, the Reichsrat. In accordance with the complicated electoral procedures, they exercised their voting rights in the first or second voting curiae, regardless of their income. Involvement in communal politics or public expression of sympathy for certain political movements was not welcome in the civil service. There are, however, cases when an official at the height of his career decided to run as a candidate in communal elections. In the office of the Silesian provincial government, Martin Woytech, later Edler von Willfest served directly under Pillersdorff the Elder as Statt­ haltereirat. While the noble title might suggest at first glance that Woytech’s successful career was also fostered by family connections, this was not the case. He was born into a farmer’s family in 1806. Despite the fact that he was the first-born son who was expected to take over the homestead, he was allowed to study at a Gymnasium and later law at a university.21 He 20

Wiener Abendpost, Beilage zur Wiener Zeitung, 10 October 1907. According to the death record, he died of myodegeneratio cordis. Moravský zemský archiv, Brno sv. Jakub death register 1896–1930, fol. 92 [http://actapublica.eu/matriky/brno/prohlizec/7905/?strana= 47, accessed 22 January 2016]. 21 Kladiwa & Pokludová 2012. See a similar pattern in the Kudlich family, also from ­Silesia. Both the first-born son Josef Hermann (*1809) and his younger brother Hans (*1823) studied law at the University of Vienna. While Josef Hermann represented his home region in the German parliament at Frankfurt, Hans was a member of the Austrian Reichstag of 1848/49.

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then established himself in the civil service as a skilful and decisive official in the Teschen (Těšín) district of Austrian Silesia already before 1848. On 17 December 1849, he was appointed district commissary (Kreis­kommissär) 1st class in Teschen, and on 13 August 1865, he obtained the title of Statt­ haltereirat. In 1868, he was elected as a deputy to the Silesian Diet. On 22 April 1869, he was elevated by the sovereign to the nobility for his services and granted the title of “Edler von Willfest”. The same year, at the age of 63 and at the end of his career in the civil service, he decided to stand as a candidate in the Troppau communal elections. He was successful and was elected to the town council. The motives that led him to embark on a career in local politics are not immediately obvious. Perhaps, on reaching retirement, he still felt at the peak of his powers and was not yet willing to spend the rest of his life with the usual leisure activities. His prestige in local society was considerable, and three years after his initial election he not only defended his seat on the council, but was elected mayor of the city. Shortly after assuming the function of mayor, he used his professional knowledge and ability to reorganize the office. Under his solid guidance, Troppau embarked on the difficult transformation into a modern city. Woytech retired as mayor in 1882, and died in 1898 at the age of 92.22 He survived not only his wife, but also all of his children. Similar to P ­ illersdorff, Woytech encouraged his two sons to study at university. The elder son, ­Theodor, became a lawyer with a private practice and the younger, Karl, a physician. According to the census forms of 1890, Woytech shared his household with the widowed wife of his son Theodor and her two children. After completing his law studies, his grandson Theodor followed the grandfather’s career in the civil service. In 1901, he was county commissary (Bezirks-Kommissär) at the Silesian government in Troppau, where Josef Šrámek had just started his career in the service as a Konzeptspraktikant.23 In a collective profile, Šrámek represents the civil servant of Czech ­origin. His career also provides the opportunity to study the social ascent the civil service allowed in the political administration. Šrámek was born in the rural environment of the Silesian municipality of Stettin (Štítina) in the Troppau county in 1875. His father must have been a fervent Czech, because in a region with a German majority population he sent his son to a Czech g­ rammar school in Troppau. Šrámek subsequently completed his studies at the Faculty of Law of the Czech University in Prague and returned to ­Troppau as a member of the Czech-educated intelligentsia in 1899. At 22 23

Biografický slovník 2006, 106f. Krämer 1901, 8.

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the time, the city had a German majority, which inclined towards German nationalism in political terms. On 28 March 1901, Šrámek embarked on his career as a trainee in the Silesian government. In the following years, he proved himself to be a skillful administrator in the Friedek (Frýdek) and Teschen county administrations. In 1917, he was transferred from Teschen to Troppau as government secretary (Landesregierungs-Sekretär). In the fall of 1918, as a civil servant aware of his Czech nationality, he was at the centre of the events leading to the emergence of the Czech government in Silesia, which relied on the former Cisleithanian administration, while at the same time the German-dominated political leadership of former Austrian Silesia declared the territory to be part of the new German-Austrian Republic. On 13 December 1918, Šrámek sent his demands regarding the strengthening of the Czech civil service in the Silesian administration to the ­Minister of the Interior of the new Czechoslovak Republic in Prague. Five days later, the Czech army occupied Troppau. On 19 December, Prague entrusted Šrámek with heading the Silesian administration. He was later appointed provincial president and, after the attachment of the formerly Prussian district of Hultschin (Hlučín), also commissioner plenipotentiary for the Ratibor (Ratiboř) district. In his function as provincial president, Šrámek represented the type of political administrator who energetically advocated the interests and aims of the new Czechoslovak state and its central authorities. In many respects, he intervened in events in the region with his intimate knowledge of the area, for instance, in the preparation of the census of 1921. He did not act unilaterally, however. He was the first and last Silesian provincial ­president of Czech nationality, since Silesia was dissolved as an administrative entity by the administrative reform of 1927. Šrámek died in Ostrau-Witkowitz (Ostrava-Vítkovice) in 1937.24 To conclude the individual biographies selected for this essay, there is the career of one more civil servant who was, like Šrámek, also significantly affected by the events at the end of 1918. Oskar Schmejda was born into the family of a German textile factory owner in Bielitz (Bilsko, Bielsko) at the Silesian-Galician border on 20 June 1886. On 4 August 1909, he sent an application to the Silesian government that he would like to perform his trainee service (Probepraxis) in the bureaucracy in Silesia, and attached excellent references from the offices where he had performed ­earlier internships. Schmejda was accepted as a Konzeptspraktikant, and on 14 September 1909 took the oath of office. On 6 May 1910, he was transferred to the county administration in Jägerndorf (Krnov), where he worked 24

Biografický slovník 1997, 105f.

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to the c­ omplete s­ atisfaction of his superiors. In September 1911, he passed the political examination and within a year the viva voce at the Faculty of Law in Vienna. On 4 March 1913, he became a permanent civil servant, and his promising career continued successfully. In 1917, he was appointed Bezirks-­Kommissär in Jägerndorf. The same year, he married Josephina Olli (the daughter of another factory owner in Bielitz) and a son was born on 20 August 1918. In Jägerndorf, he was affected by the events of 1918, but, unlike Šrámek, Schmejda opted to join the civil service of the new German-Austrian Republic; on 15 December 1918, he received his appointment decree. A few weeks later, his career in the Silesian civil service ended, when he left the services of the Czechoslovak state on 29 January 1919.25 He died in Graz in 1966. As a conclusion, I will try to present a collective biography of legally trained civil servants. Completed legal training was a prerequisite for acceptance into the political administration, while the initially required viva voce exam lost its significance in comparison with the practical qualifying exams. But civil servants continued to be aware of the prestige of a university degree and used their academic titles in front of their names. They informed their superiors about their graduation. For example, Schmejda wrote: “Ich erlaube mir, anzuzeigen, dass ich [...] im großen Festsaale der Wiener Universität zum Doktor Juris promoviert wurde.” The significance of noble titles is difficult to evaluate. All Silesian governors as well as the heads of the most prestigious Moravian county administration in Olmütz were aristocrats. While a noble origin might be an asset at the beginning of a career thanks to family connections and patronage, the rise to the top of the career ladder was primarily promoted by job performance and the exemplary fulfilment of service duties. But even at the time that modern civil society was being formed, exemplary service to the throne was rewarded by elevation to the nobility. A legally trained civil servant might also count on being awarded one of the highly prestigious imperial orders towards the end of his career. The Czechoslovak Republic did not continue this tradition from the Monarchy, and it also stopped the custom of issuing official uniforms to the civil service. In the second half of the 19th century, the civil service offered a path of social ascent to intelligent men from the middle classes, both from urban and rural environments. In general, civil servants married only after they had received tenure and therefore a definitive position within the service. Whereas personal affections in the selection of a partner are almost 25

Zemský archiv v Opavě (Regional Archive Opava), Silesia Country Government, box 48, file 966 I/6.

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i­mpossible to trace, it is clear that the social origin and the dowry of the bride were of great importance. The wife-to-be was usually about ten years younger and from the urban milieu of the middle classes or the elites. The age difference was determined by the fact that a civil servant was usually at least thirty years old by the time he received the necessary status and income in the official hierarchy. Such couples seemed to have rather few children, as families with four or more children are rare. Major emphasis was placed on the university education of the sons, and towards the end of the century we can notice daughters preparing for careers as teachers at primary and ­secondary schools. The profession of a teacher became an acceptable career for young women from the families of civil servants. Rarely did civil servants own a house, if it was not inherited. In the higher income brackets, there was the possibility to save the necessary funds to acquire property, but civil servants needed to be mobile and had to move according to their appointments. Only the most senior positions – head of the county administration and governor – were accorded official lodgings. In 1910, the domicile of the Bezirkshauptmann in Mährisch Ostrau had four large and two smaller rooms, an entrance hall, a kitchen, a bath, and a room for the maid. One of the county commissaries lived in an apartment with three rooms, an entrance hall, a kitchen, a bath and a room for the maid. The rent for this apartment was 1,300 crowns per year, while the second commissary paid 960 crowns for a two-room apartment. In Olmütz, the rent was slightly lower. One of the secretaries paid 863 crowns for a three-room apartment. Unmarried officials preferred to rent a room rather than a whole apartment. A maid was usually hired in the households of officials. In general, the more senior position an official held, the more servants he could employ in his household. According to the data available, religious faith was of importance for legally trained civil servants. In the whole sample, there was not one person who was listed as being without denomination (konfessionslos) in the census forms. The overwhelming majority were Roman Catholics, while Protestants or Jews were represented only sporadically in the sample. A different religion on the part of the wife was no obstacle. While the majority of the civil servants in the sample claimed German as their language of daily use, towards the end of the Monarchy the number of Czech officials increased in ethnically mixed towns. The Mistek Bezirkshauptmann Emil Knessl, considered by the Czechs around 1909 to be a supporter of the German character of the town,26 was the only official in his office who claimed to use German as his 26

Stráž Moravy 7 (1909) 197.

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everyday language. The position an official held in Czech-German relations and conflicts played a role in deciding on whether somebody remained in the service after 1918. In 1919, the retired heads of the county administration of the towns investigated, Moritz von Gastheimb27 (Olmütz) and Viktor von Gschmeidler28 (Mährisch Ostrau) had a German background. Both had held their position for an unusually long time. Gastheimb assumed the office in Olmütz from Pillersdorff in November 1897, and, unlike his predecessor, he had a closer relationship to the German population of the city. Gschmeidler was appointed to the post at Mährisch Ostrau in 1906. Finally, I wish to sum up several methodological insights. The data gained from the census, registry books and municipal address books are not sufficient to prepare individual biographies of legally trained civil servants. Together with the relevant office schemes and personnel records, these sources provide enough information on the living situations, the size of ­families, religious faith and ethnic affiliation for collective biographies. But for a more concrete idea of the professional group in its local surroundings, it is necessary to expand the source base at least to the local press. The press not only offers insights into the positions of senior officials in the Czech-German conflict, but also into other aspects of their lives. The Bezirkshauptmann did not act behind the closed doors of his office, he was a public figure representing the state in the locality and present at the ceremonial acts in the town and county. In the name of the sovereign, he awarded distinctions to local personalities and welcomed important visitors. As an honorary guest, he attended the unveiling of monuments and the opening of new schools, hospitals, orphanages or public works. If necessary, he ensured the enforcement of public order, and his ambivalent perception by the population might result from these multifaceted tasks. Intervention in Czech-German disputes could lead to sympathies or antipathies on the part of one or the other national community in the region, while interventions against strikes by organized labour led to aversion in Social Democratic circles. Whereas the attitudes of the population towards the civil service were not clear even in the Czechoslovak Republic, what Karel Havlíček Borovský has said in 1850 remains indisputable: a qualified and efficient civil service is necessary for governing the state.

27

Personalstand Mähren 1901, 1910; Vyskočil 2011, 93–94; Mährisches Tagblatt, 30 ­October 1897. 28 Personalstand Mähren 1910; Vyskočil 2011, 97–98.

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An Independent Judge in the Austrian Administration The Example of Bohemia around 1900 Martin Klečacký The lost war with Prussia in 1866 involved many changes for the ­Austrian Empire. Franz Joseph had to give in to the Hungarian demands and the empire broke into two parts, each receiving fully independent governance. Central parliaments and governments for the respective states were established in Vienna and Pest. In conjunction with the Austro-Hungarian Compromise, the new “Austria”, or Cisleithania as it was commonly called,1 was given a new constitution in December 1867. A set of Fundamental State Laws provided for the role of the Imperial Council (Reichsrat) as a parliament, defined the fundamental rights of citizens and separated the judiciary from the executive power with immediate effect.2 The liberal principle of separating the legislature from the executive and the judiciary as the three basic pillars of power was finally realized after the neo-Absolutist experiments of the 1850s.3 Independent judge in the spirit of the December constitution The Fundamental State Law on judicial power stated clearly: Judges are appointed by the emperor or in his name definitively and for life. Judges are autonomous and independent in executing their judicial duties.4

1

2 3 4

Only in 1915, Austria became the official designation for the western half of the Monarchy as it was created in the compromise of 1867, while the official term used until then was “Die im Reichsrat vertretenen Königreiche und Länder”. As a way out of this dilemma that “Austria” had no official name, it was referred to as Cisleithania as opposed to Transleithania (for the Hungarian lands), named after the border river Leitha east of Vienna. In this essay, both the term Austria and Cisleithania are used for the Western part of the Monarchy after 1867. Giegl & Steinbach 1909. Lehner 1995. Reichs-Gesetz-Blatt für das Kaiserthum Österreich Nr. 144 v. 21. Dezember 1967. Staatsgrundgesetz über die richterliche Gewalt, art. 5, 6.

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A new era began in the Austrian judiciary. Trials by jury were re-introduced, court proceedings were oral and open to the public, and the inquisitorial system came to an end. The judge, independent of the government and other powers, autonomous in his decisions and only bound by the laws, was intended to represent a central pillar of the Austrian Rechtsstaat. Together with the new constitution, the parliament and free elections, he was meant to become another symbol of the liberal state.5 The separation of judicial and political power through the December ­Constitution was concluded the following year. The composite county offices (gemischte Bezirksämter), which had fulfilled both the administrative as well as the judicial functions on the first hierarchical level of government, were replaced by county administrative offices (Bezirkshauptmannschaften) and county courts (Bezirksgerichte).6 Many small cities and townships served as court locations, often staffed by only one or two judges. At the beginning of the 20th century, there were over 220 county courts in Bohemia alone, where cases were heard before a single judge, mainly in common civil matters. At the same time, these courts also laid down penalties for minor offences and misdemeanours in criminal cases. The superior courts and courts of first instance for more serious crimes were the district (Kreisgerichte) or provincial courts (Landesgerichte), as they were called in the capitals of the crownlands.7 Arbitration in these courts was done by panels consisting of several judges, so they were called tribunal courts of first instance. The supreme provincial courts (Oberlandesgerichte) served as appellate instances for ­rulings by district and provincial courts.8 The supreme provincial court for the Kingdom of Bohemia had its seat in Prague, and its president was of the same rank (Rangsklasse; rank III) as the governor.9 While the governor 5

Šolle 1975. RGBl Nr. 59 v. 11. Juni 1868. Gesetz betreffend die Organisierung der Bezirks­ge­richte. In ­general, the administrative counties were larger, consisting of two or more smaller court districts. According to the last census of 1910, there were 104 administrative, but 226 court counties in Bohemia, plus the two cities with a separate status, Prague and Reichenberg (Liberec). 7 Bohemia was organized in fifteen court districts with fourteen district courts and the provincial court in Prague. In the crownlands Tyrol and Vorarlberg, Trieste, Istria and Gorizia-Gradisca respectively, which were separate provinces, but combined in one ­governorate (Statthalterei), only the court at the seat of the governor (Innsbruck, Trieste) was termed a Landesgericht. 8 There were nine supreme provincial courts, serving the 17 crownlands organized in 14 governorates. 9 All Austrian civil servants were organized hierarchically into eleven ranks (Rangsklassen) according to their positions within the administrative and judicial system. The rank not only defined the salary, but also further privileges like subsidies for living quarters, 6

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was the highest representative of the political administration – the executive – the court president headed the judiciary. The supreme judicial instance for all of Austria was the Supreme Court and Court of Cassation (­Oberster ­Gerichts- und Kassationshof) in Vienna, which had replaced the former Oberste ­Justiz-Stelle (supreme judicial office) in 1848. In addition, since the establishment of the ministerial system in 1848, the Ministry of Justice was in charge of organizational and personnel matters in the judiciary.10 Judges were called upon to ensure the proper functioning of these offices. It is interesting and typical of Austria that, even though the Fundamental State Laws mention judges, the newspapers of the time as well as official documents often referred to them as court officials (Gerichtsbeamte), which was not necessarily the same thing. Apart from the auxiliary office staff responsible for receiving and storing documents for law suits, drawing up the verdicts and other administrative tasks, there were also judicial officers – those who conducted sessions, passed judgment, sat on the judging panels and decided on guilt and punishment. They might be called judges. But this was the crux of the matter. The judges who conducted the trials were at the same time also civil servants (Beamte). It was this ambiguous status that created a suitable ground for governmental interference into the sphere of the independent justice. Judges, like all other state officials, had to rely on bureaucratic advancement rules, secret qualification, and the benevolence of their superiors for nominations to higher posts and promotion to higher salaries. This essay will focus on the conditions that shaped the lives and careers of all judicial candidates and junior judges at the turn of the 19th and 20th century on the example of Bohemia. I will concentrate on system inadequacies in the form of an insufficient financial provision and poor career opportunities that compelled a formally independent judge to seek favours and support from his superior authorities. If he failed to get these from the latter, he might look beyond the actual state administration to the political parties and their representatives. This granted the political leaders direct access inside the justice system and offered them possibilities to exert influence on the very functioning of this part of the state organism.11 heating or clothing, travel arrangements or the right to a professional uniform to be worn on specific occasions. The rank was crucial for status within the civil service and in ­society at large. 10 Ogris 1975 for the development of the judicial system in general, for Bohemia and Moravia Šolle 1969–1971. 11 For the role of judges, see Burckhard 1909, mainly chapters II – Ernennung und Unabhängigkeit, and III – Vorbereitung und Prüfungen.

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The splendours and miseries of the judicial service Before dealing with the execution of judicial power itself, a few words will be devoted to the preparatory judicial service (Richterlicher Vorberei­ tungsdienst).12 This period was the beginning of every judge’s career and decided whether an applicant successfully entered the profession. The basic precondition was a law degree from an Austrian university, which required passing all three state exams, however, one could already enter the preparatory service after passing only two of them.13 The preparatory service normally lasted three years, and at the end the judicial candidate (Auskultant) had to pass a professional exam (Richteramtsprüfung). The three-year preparatory period, formally introduced in 1896, involved a prolonged waiting period for young graduates seeking permanent jobs in the state administration, which ensured a fixed income and service assignment. The judicial candidates were not yet tenured civil servants (Beamte). As long as they were in the preparatory stage, they were not entitled to the salaries or any other privileges of the civil service. The influx of law graduates to the courts was not regulated in any way other than an application and a vacancy for an Auskultant. However, even after being appointed as one, the prospective judge was not necessarily guaranteed tenure. The three-year preparatory service was very often prolonged. The senior judicial candidates waiting to be appointed as adjunct judges (Gerichts-Adjunkt), the first hierarchical position for a judge, were promoted only in small groups as vacancies were rare. Therefore, a young jurist, after studying law for five years and serving as a judicial candidate for three more, was still scraping along on a minimum income. Of the 250 positions for judicial candidates in Bohemia, 25 (10%) were unpaid, 113 (45%) had an annual allowance (adjutum) of 500 Gulden and 112 (45%) of 600 Gulden. On average, a judicial candidate served unpaid for 5 months before receiving some money from the state. Even the higher allowance of 600 Gulden meant 1.66 Gulden a day for a jurist, who often also held a doctorate, while even an auxiliary typist on a daily wage (Diurnist) earned two Gulden a day.14 Yet a 12

Reichsgesetzblatt für die im Reichsrathe vertretenen Königreiche und Länder Nr. 217 v. 27. November 1896. Gesetz, womit Vorschriften über die Besetzung, innere Einrichtung und Geschäftsordnung der Gerichte erlassen werden (Gerichtsorganisationsgesetz), §§ 5–17. 13 The first exam (historical-legal) was on Roman and canon law, plus German and Austrian history of law. The second exam (judicial) consisted of civil, penal and commercial law. The third exam (political) consisted of constitutional and administrative law, national economics, finance and financial law. 14 Nový 1900.

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judicial candidate, who aspired to serve in court, needed adequate accommodation, clothing and a social life befitting his social status.15 This was hardly possible with the adjutum alone. Moreover, the annual allowance was the same for young jurists serving in Prague or at a small county court. Alone the rent for a single room in Prague swallowed up to 40% of a judicial candidate’s annual income. Under these conditions, the young prospective judges had only two options: to have someone to support them or to incur personal debts. At the beginning of the 20th century, according to the journal České úřednické listy (Czech Civil Servants’ Journal), 69% of the judicial candidates (between the ages of 25 and 32) admitted receiving support from their parents or other relatives, 12% could live on their own assets, 7% relied upon their wives (or their dowry) for financial support, and 12% confessed incurring debts. This seemingly low percentage of future judges reporting debt may be due to candidates not willing to admit this, because even the slightest blemish in their qualifications might ruin the possibility of achieving the career desired.16 The Austrian judiciary encouraged hundreds of indebted judges who had no possibility of paying off their liabilities either as judicial candidates or as lower court officials, whose salaries were only a little higher than the financial support for Auskultanten. A German judiciary candidate from Northern Bohemia described his situation as follows: My social status as a judiciary candidate is nothing. It is just ‘splendid misery’ [glänzendes Elend]. I often compare my status with the status of my colleague who went to work to the revenue office after the secondary school final exam. Today, he is an [tax collector’s] assistant, he has his thousand Gulden and is not forced to live from hand to mouth. I finished secondary school with honours, passed the university state exams with distinction and I get a lousy 500 Gulden. I live from hand to mouth and run up debts. That is my ‘social status’. I regret that I opted for the judicial service. However, no-one advised me, just as no-one advised anyone else.17

However, the government in Vienna seemed undisturbed by these problems, despite the fact that the promotion scheme established by the Ministry of Justice in 1897 proved to be absolutely illusory. According to this scheme, every judiciary candidate was to be promoted to Rangsklasse (rank) IX (the lowest one for court officials) after three and a half years.18 The following 15 See

Vošahlíková 1996, 191–210; ibid. 1998, 7–40. Memorandum o hmotných poměrech auskutantů. In: České úřednické listy 2 (1901), no. 18, 3–4. 17 Slovo k společenskému postavení soudních auskultantů. In: České úřednické listy 5 (1904), no. 14, 2. 18 Verordnungsblatt des k.k. Justizministeriums 13 (1897), 108. 16

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table shows how long a judiciary candidate had to wait on average to be appointed a court adjunct (Gerichtsadjunkt), how his career proceeded and how the Austrian judicial regions differed in this respect around 1900.1920 Supreme Provincial Court Circuit

Before 1896

In 1897

At the beginning of 1905

Years in service when entering rank (in years and months)20 VII y

VIII m y

IX m y

VII m y

VIII m y

IX m y

VII m y

VIII m y

IX m y

m

Vienna

24 -

18 -

6

2

21 -

10 7

2

4

20 4

10 5

5

9

Brno

24 -

19 -

4

-

19 6

9

5

3

-

22 4

10 4

5

9

Graz

22 1

19 2

5

8

20 1

15 4

2

4

21 1

11 5

4

5

Innsbruck

20 11 18 -

9

4

15 8

11 5

3

10 19 10 8

11 4

1

Trieste

18 1

18 8

5

11 13 9

9

2

8

17 4

10 7

5

2

Zadar

23 5

16 -

5

4

16 10 12 11 3

-

20 -

8

-

3

2

Kraków

24 1

20 5

7

5

19 10 14 2

2

5

20 -

10 5

5

-

Lemberg

26 -

20 3

4

7

21 1

13 10 2

5

14 -

8

6

4

4

Average

22 11 21 5

6

-

18 6

11 7

2

5

19 3

9

10 4

9

Prague

26 8

6

8

21 10 15 8

1

11 24 -

22 2

8

16 -

6

6

The prospects for a young judge A young judge finally obtained his first job and stable income in his early thirties by becoming a court adjunct in rank IX. He became a cog wheel in the state bureaucracy apparatus. Judges as well as all other Austrian civil servants were classified into eleven ranks and their whole lives, careers, social and financial status and social prestige were dependent on promotion to a higher rank. A promotion meant more money, higher responsibility, improved professional position and usually also a transfer to a superior court.21 A civil servant only moved up automatically in time within the sub-layers of his rank, while all promotions to a higher rank were in the hands of his superiors. For all judges, the Ministry of Justice was the ultimate authority in terms of salary and promotion.

19

Promemoria o personálních poměrech soudcovských v Království českém. In: České úřednické listy 7 (1906), no. 1, 3–4; no. 2, 1–6; no. 4, 3–4; here no. 2, 2. 20 Time of service indicated always from the beginning of court service, not between each promotion. 21 On status of civil officers, see Heindl 2013b, 85–164.

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An appointment as court adjunct did not automatically mean that a young jurist became a judge. The law on the organization of the judicial system of 1896 distinguished between two categories of court officials with legal qualifications: autonomous and auxiliary court officials. Autonomous officials – judges in terms of the Fundamental State Law – were appointed by the ­Minister of Justice as individual judges to county courts, or allocated to tribunal courts of first or second instance (district, provincial or supreme provincial courts) and given votum – the right to vote on a panel of judges. Only these jurists enjoyed the protection accorded to an independent judge. They could not be transferred to another court against their will, nor could they be forced to retire (except after disciplinary proceedings). With this appointment, an adjunct had a fixed position as an independent and autonomous judge, until he applied for a different assignment, a promotion, or for retirement. For each transition, an active act of application was necessary, while superiors could not force any changes on a judge. However, remaining in the position of a court adjunct in rank IX for the rest of his life was certainly not a young judge’s dream. After all, the possibility of promotion and improvement in financial and social status was one of the main enticements to enter the civil service.2223242526 22 RGBl

Nr. 47 v. 15. April 1873. Gesetz betreffend die Regelung der Bezüge der activen Staatsbeamten. Promotion to the next salary degree took place after five years of service in the given rank. 23 RGBl Nr. 172 v. 19. September 1898. Gesetz, womit einige Bestimmungen des Gesetzes vom 15. April 1873 [...] abgeändert werden. Promotion to the next salary degree took place after four years of service in rank IX and after five years in all other ranks. 24 RGBl Nr. 34 v. 19. Februar 1907. Gesetz, womit einige Bestimmungen der Gesetze [...] über die Regelung der Bezüge und Dienstesverhältnisse von Staatsangestellten abgeändert werden. Promotion to the next salary degree took place after three years in rank IX, in ranks VI–VIII to the second and third degrees after five years, to the fourth after another three years. In rank V and above, the person was granted the next salary degree after five years in the given rank. 25 The lowest court official who could become a judge at county courts or obtain the right to vote (votum) at a tribunal court. Most job positions for adjuncts were systematically distributed to the county courts. Apart from the judges appointed definitively to a certain court, there was also a category of so-called flying adjuncts, who were appointed for the whole Supreme Provincial Court District. They remained auxiliary court officials who were moved from place to place as circumstances required. These young jurists could only hope for a quick permanent assignment to a specific court. 26 A county judge was the chief judge of his court, where he would either work alone or with several adjuncts. Only few larger county courts were also assigned court secretaries. The county court in Königliche Weinberge (Královské Vinohrady, a suburb of Prague) was one of the largest in Bohemia with twelve jurists: the judge, three secretaries and eight adjuncts.

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Annual salary according to rank (Rangsklasse)272829 187322 189823 190724

Rank Degree Function

Salary class in Austrian Gulden IX.

1.

Court Adjunct (Gerichtsadjunkt)25

1100

1400

1400

2.

1200

1500

1500

3.

1300

1600

1600

4.

1700

5. VIII.

1. 2.

1800 (Bezirksrichter)26

County Judge Court Secretary (Gerichtssekretär)27

3.

1400

1800

1800

1600

2000

2000

1800

2200

2200

4. VII.

1.

2400 Provincial Court Councillor

(Landesgerichtsrat)28

2000

2400

2400

2.

2200

2700

2700

3.

2400

3000

3000

Supreme Provincial Court Councillor (Oberlandesgerichtsrat)29 District Court President and Vice-president (Kreisgerichts[vize]präsident) Provincial Court Vice-president (Landesgerichtsvizepräsident)

2800

3200

3200

3200

3600

3600

3600

4000

4000

Privy Councillor (Hofrat)30 Provincial Court and Commercial Court President (Landesgerichts-, Handelsgerichtspräsident) Supreme Provincial Court Vice-president (Oberlandesgerichtsvizepräsident)

4500

5000

5000

5500

6000

6000

Supreme Provincial Court President31 (Oberlandesgerichtpräsident)

8000

4. VI.

1. 2. 3. 4.

V.

1. 2. 3.

III.

1. 2.

27

3200

4400

6000

7000 8000

8000 9000

Judges at tribunal courts and larger county courts with no managerial responsibility. Most Councillors would sit at the tribunal courts of first instance (district and provincial courts) as members of the panel of judges. Also senior county judges could be promoted to this rank; their title was Provincial Court Councillor and Head of the County Court (Landesgerichtsrat als Bezirksgerichtsvorsteher). 29 They sat on panels of judges at the Supreme Provincial Courts or served at the tribunal courts of first instance, where they had the role of panel chairmen together with the ­president and vice-president. 28

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Career of a judge3031 The quest for promotion was not necessarily a question of just ambition, pursuit for higher status, golden collars, a title of nobility and the prestige that went with it. It could also be a necessity in life. A higher rank meant a higher salary. For a judge with no other source of income, probably with debt incurred during his university and apprentice years, married and with children, promotion was the main goal of all his efforts. He needed to reach at least rank VII, which guaranteed an educated man a living standard in keeping with the middle class.32 Vacancies were filled through competitions open to judges of the same rank, who could apply for transfer, or to judges of lower rank, who applied for promotion and transfer at the same time. The court in charge of the vacant position (the district court for the county courts in its district, for all tribunal courts the court where the vacancy appeared) generated a terno proposal from all the applications, listing the three best qualified candidates. For this purpose, each tribunal court had a personnel panel chaired by the court president. In addition to the panel’s terno proposal, the court president also submitted his own opinion to the next instance, the Supreme Provincial Court. This court’s personnel panel then submitted its own terno proposal, and again the court president had the right to express his own opinion. In Bohemia, the Supreme Provincial Court in Prague had two personnel panels (for the courts in the Czech and German districts respectively). These four terno proposals (two by the personnel ­panels and two by the respective presidents, which were usually more or less identical) were then sent to the Ministry of Justice. The responsible officials in the ministry might or might not comply with the local proposals. The final decision regarding ranks IX–VII was made by the personnel department of the ministry. But all recommendations of the personnel panels, court ­presidents and the ministry might be completely ignored by the M ­ inister of Justice. In the end, he had the right to appoint whichever candidate he 30

Positions of presidents at some more important district courts were systemized with rank V. These judges were entitled Privy Councillor and President of the District Court (Hofrat als Kreisgerichtspräsident) as opposed to district court president (Kreisgerichts­ präsident) with rank VI. 31 The president of the Supreme Provincial Court received, in addition to his salary, an annual allowance (in Prague 4,000 Gulden); lower-ranking judges were entitled to a socalled activity bonus (an expense allowance according to the size of the town where they were serving). 32 In the corresponding administrative service, rank VII was reserved for the heads of the county administrative offices (Bezirkshauptmänner); for their financial and social status, see Vyskočil 2009, 269–284.

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pleased.33 For the higher ranks (VI–V), the first terno proposal was drafted by the personnel panel of the Supreme Provincial Court and its president, while the second proposal came from the Supreme Court in Vienna and its president. For these ranks, the appointment of a candidate was the responsibility of the crown, but the Minister of Justice submitted his recommendation to the emperor. The minister’s cabinet prepared a submission to the monarch, stating the reasons for the minister’s choice.34 The Ministry of Justice played the main and central role in the whole appointment process. Decisions made by the personnel department superseded all other proposals. While the minis­ ter presented his recommendation to the emperor, the responsible official in the ministry prepared this document for the minister.35 Once the Minister of Justice signed the letter of appointment for a court adjunct in Bohemia, the newly appointed judge joined the long queue of his colleagues as adjuncts in the circuit of the Prague Supreme Provincial Court. This court maintained jurisdiction over the whole Kingdom of Bohemia and was one of the largest and most populous, but, according to official statistics, also one of the most unheeded judicial circuits in Cisleithania. Each Supreme Provincial Court in Austria headed an individual circuit, and promotions in general took place within one circuit, so a Bohemian judge had to wait for vacancies in the higher ranks of the Prague circuit. While colleagues in other circuits got promoted faster, received higher salaries and therefore retired with higher pensions, a judge in Bohemia had to wait. However, when an adjunct applied for a promotion to rank VIII, he had an alternative. He could either apply to become a district judge heading one of the plentiful county courts, or, if he fancied a superior career, he could compete for a position as a court secretary. Vacancies for these positions appeared at the tribunal courts, where they sat, together with righer ranking judges, on their panels. Hence, they attracted more attention, and the chances of reaching the next round of promotions to rank VII improved. The decisive factors determining the likelihood of judicial promotion were therefore seniority and qualification.

33

See the material on the appointment processes in Bohemia in Národní archiv v Praze, Ministerstvo spravedlnosti Vídeň [National Archives Prague, Ministry of Justice Vienna], signature III Prag Personale Allgemein, cartons 205–218, 231–271. 34 See Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv (ÖStA, HHStA), Kabinetts­kanzlei, Vorträge in chronological order. While the original was returned to the ministry, the imperial chancellery kept a summary. 35 On the organization of the Ministry of Justice, see Waldstein-Wartenberg 1975.

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Relationship between courts, population and number of judges, by Supreme Provincial Court Circuits36 Number of courts Supreme Provincial Tribunal County Court Circuit courts courts

Vienna

Brünn

Graz

Innsbruck

Trieste

Zadar

Kraków

Lemberg

11

8

7

5

4

5

6

12

157

104

125

72

32

33

69

134

Year

Population

1897

3 621 140

1898

Judicial Growth personnel in %

1020

1897

2 882 519

525

1898

116

371 777 26 048 4 009

134

389 451 29 957 4 438

117

318 821 17 854 3 776

107

195 975 13 609 3 181

131

188 796 23 599 3 417

130

118 319 17 927 2 857

136

415 908 36 165 3 862

154

460 838 41 268 3 864

702

1905

3 115 610

702

1897

2 142 674

507

1898

589

1905

2 231 750

591

1897

928 769

288

1898

309

1905

979 878

308

1897

695 384

169

1898

220

1905

755 183

221

1897

527 426

159

1898

208

1905

591 597

207

1897

2 299 665

474

1898

612

1905

2 495 441

646

1897

4 954 742

932

1898

1897 16

229

1142 5 530 008

36

5 843 044

1898 1905

Judge

1022 4 089 547

1431

Average of the above districts in 1905 Prague

County court

875

1905

1905

Number of residents per Tribunal court

307 485 25 803 3 075 1267 1378

6 318 280

1380

109

394 892 27 590 4 578

Promemoria o personálních poměrech soudcovských v Království českém. In: České úřednické listy 7 (1906), no. 1, 4.

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Next to seniority, qualification played a major role in the career of a judge. Upon entering the judicial system, every judge filled in a qualification table with his personal data. This was the last time he got to see this paper. But while it accompanied the judge throughout his career, the qualifi­cation table stayed secret and he was not allowed to review it. The qualifications of subordinate judges were recorded once a year by the president of the responsible tribunal court according to ability (Fähigkeiten), ­assignment (Ver­ wendung), ethics (Moralität) and political conduct (politisches Ver­halten). The assessment was given in grade form, ranging in five steps from excellent to unsatisfactory (ausgezeichnet – sehr gut – gut – genügend – ungenügend). The lowest grades, unsatisfactory or satisfactory, ruled out the possibility of promotion, while excellent grades provided the opportunity to surpass s­ enior seniority was p­ublic colleagues through expedited promotion.37 While ­ knowledge, the qualification grades were known only to the respective court president and the personnel panel of a superior court. The court president could write with impunity whatever he wanted and thus influence the career opportunities of a judge for a long time.38 Besides, the five qualification grades were not precisely defined. While the Ministry of Justice wanted the qualification practice to be uniform throughout the entire country, this was difficult to achieve considering hundreds of qualifiers were ­scattered throughout the monarchy. While the armed forces had special committees designated to fill in qualification tables, and every military officer was allowed to inspect his table and could demand an explanation when he was not promoted according to his seniority, the independent Austrian judiciary used a secret and non-­appealable assessment system.39 Even contemporaries noticed the consequences of this practice: It is always advisable to win favour and patronage as well as a condescending attitude on the part of superiors and influential seniors whenever one can; in order to do so, one must use a thousand means and instruments of flattery. These means include being on a look-out for any instructions from superiors and meeting any desires they might have. After all, they have the secret qualification list in their hands. Comply with all the orders from above, even with the opinions of superiors (as once they are superior, they are also smarter); agree with anything the superiors do, even if one thing contradicts another; worship them and spread their utterances like oracles; admire anything and everything about them – smartness, even if they are the stupidest, bravery, even if they are chicken-hearted,

37

As they were introduced in 1897, the forms are attached to RGBl Nr. 112 v. 5. Mai 1897 (Geschäftsordnung für die Gerichte erster und zweiter Instanz). 38 Burckhard 1907, 1–2. 39 Tajná kvalifikace. In: České úřednické listy 1 (1900), no. 1, 3–4.

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talents, even if they are good at nothing at all, gentleness and kindness, even if they are the worst office tyrants.40

With such vague promotion procedures consisting of a mixture of seniority, qualification lists that one could just broadly guess what they contained, ­several different proposals by various superior courts and, in many cases, politically utilitarian decisions by the Ministry of Justice, it is not surprising that judges looked for other options to secure promotion. At this point, favouritism came into play. The aim was either to get promotion through ­preferential treatment, or to prevent a qualified candidate from being bypassed by someone who was favoured. Family ties, social relations, political orientation and affiliation and, last but not least, the candidate’s nationality and behaviour outside the office played significant roles. Judges and Czech politics The end of the 19th century saw several changes in the Austrian justice system. The traditional bureaucratic dynasties were confronted with nationalism. A new generation of young jurists entered the courts in Bohemia. They had received their education only in the Czech language, had contacts to fellow students and professors involved in the Young Czech Party, and some of them had experienced the radical students’ movement that resulted in the infamous Omladina trial of 1894. In the early 1890s, the Young Czech Party destroyed the political power of their opponents, the so-called Old Czechs, and entered the Bohemian Diet in Prague as their radical successors and the central parliament in Vienna as a vociferously protesting fraction. This generational change in the political scene corresponded with another change in the state administration, creating fertile ground for co-operation. Judges felt free to publicly express their allegiance to the Czech nationalist cause, and with the necessary political support they could hope for a faster career. But the judges’ reliance on political support was not only caused by their nationalist feelings, but also by their sense of disappointment at being ignored and neglected by an administration that demanded work, adequate representation of the state and loyalty, yet did not care enough to provide its “workers” with the necessary means. The state was trying to cope with the ever increasing work load by utilizing hundreds of judicial candidates, who worked for nothing or very little for several years in the hope of getting a permanent job in the end. In order to improve their social situation, these would-be judges looked for help wherever it came from. For a politician, a self-confi40

Joklík 1899, 84.

122

Martin Klečacký

dent judge had a value as well. A young, talented and ambitious judge could become a real asset. Indeed, his value even increased, the more he climbed up the career ladder. After the abortive struggles for language regulations, which should have put the Czech language on an even par with German in all aspects of the judicial and administrative system in Bohemia, ended in bitter disillusion in October 1899, the Young Czech Party was left with nothing more than the Stremayr regulation of 1880, relating only to the use of Czech in external communication with citizens, an achievement of the Old Czechs’ struggle for the same cause.41 A deal with the government, which required a compromise with the German parties, was nowhere in sight. The Young Czechs, however, longed for the introduction of Czech as a language equal to German in the internal administration of the Bohemian lands. There seemed to be only one way left to achieve this goal, the via facti: the simple implementation of Czech in everyday business by the civil servants themselves. There was no law in Austria prohibiting this, since no law declared German to be the only language used in bureaucratic communication. The judges seemed to be the best candidates to carry out this plan. They were independent by law, and they could only be transferred or forced into retirement if they had broken an existing law, but there was no legal regulation on the languages to be used within the state bureaucracy. Yet, at the same time the Young Czechs had to protect “genuine Czech” judges from negative qualification reports that might easily cost them a promotion as a punitive measure. It was necessary that self-confident Czechs, aware of their duty to the nation, which was represented by the Young Czech party, should be placed in the right positions in the justice system. The most important positions in this regard were the president of the Supreme Provincial Court in Prague and the head of the personnel department in the Ministry of Justice in Vienna. A suitable opportunity arose in autumn 1898, when the Cabinet of Count Franz Thun-Hohenstein endeavoured to put the Gautsch language ordinances (named after Thun’s predecessor as Prime Minister, Paul Gautsch Freiherr von Frankenthurn) into administrative practice in Bohemia. In September 1898, Franz Rumler Ritter (since 1900 Freiherr) von Aichenwehr, the president of the Supreme Provincial Court in Prague, requested to retire. He was 74 years old and had recently completed his fiftieth year as a judge.42 There 41 See

Sutter 1960–1965. Karl von Stremayr was Minister of Education (1870–1879) and Justice (1879–1880) and long-time president of the Austrian Supreme Court (1880–1899). 42 ÖStA, Allgemeines Verwaltungsarchiv (AVA), Justizministerium, Präsidium, carton 51, Zahl 311/98. On Rumler’s career see Adlgasser 2014a, 1049–1050. In 1899, Rumler was appointed a member for life to the House of Lords of the Austrian parliament.

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were two qualified Czech candidates to fill the vacancy: František Jansa, the vice-president of the court, and Jan Hrouzek, a councillor (Ministerialrat) in the Ministry of Justice. However, neither of them were included in the nomination proposal made by the personnel panel of the Supreme Court.43 When the issue was being deliberated in the Council of Ministers, the Young Czech Minister of Finance, Josef Kaizl, intervened. Kaizl, who had a strong position in the cabinet and the ear of the prime minister,44 managed to persuade the Minister of Justice, Ignaz von Ruber, to change the nomination completely. Jansa, who was referred to as “too old” for the position in the original proposal (he was 65, and the usual age for retirement was 70), was suddenly “agile and full of energy” in the new version.45 The Young Czech tactics were successful and Kaizl promptly informed the president of the party executive committee, Václav Škarda: With the utmost discretion, I am telling you that Jansa has been proposed to the emperor for the Prague Supreme Provincial Court, we are expecting the appointment to be published in a few days. I am committing this indiscretion so that you can go immediately to Jansa and congratulate on hearing about his appointment. You can tell him you are rejoicing that the party efforts have been fruitful. This will give you a strong position and a great deal of influence on him.46

Jansa was to know exactly to whom he should be grateful for his promotion. In this and similar ways, Škarda managed to establish a network of discreet connections in the state offices in Prague. In this manner, the Young Czechs created a pool of loyal candidates to fill vacancies for leading positions in the state administration and the judiciary. Their services, information and help was expected in return. Jansa, however, was a seasoned judge who had reached the zenith of his career and did not need Young Czech support any more. He was an old school Austrian bureaucrat and would not give up his service routines and obedience to superiors so easily. The Young Czechs soon realized they needed someone to push Jansa in the right direction. The man for the job was F ­ erdinand Pantůček, one of the best acquisitions of the party. He was a young, ­talented and ambitious jurist who had graduated sub auspiciis imperatoris from the Czech University in Prague. Even as a student, Pantůček had published ­several legal papers and had been recommended to Škarda. From this point on, his career was closely linked to the Young Czech Party. But Pantůček 43

ÖStA, AVA, Justizministerium, Präsidium, carton 51, Zahl 352/98. Galandauer 2014, 154–172. 45 ÖStA, AVA, Justizministerium, Präsidium, carton 51, Zahl 352/98. 46 Kaizl 1914, 842. 44

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did not only rely on his political connections, at least not at the beginning of his career. He married the daughter of a judge of the Prague Supreme Provincial Court and was subsequently transferred to this most important judicial body in Bohemia. He reached the first rank of adjunct in 1893 after six years of service, the position of secretary already four years later, and the rank of Landesgerichtsrat less than a year later.47 After Jansa’s appointment, Pantůček soon became his bureau chief. He gained access to all qualification tables, promotions and appointments throughout the Bohemian justice system and he was in permanent contact with the president and functioned as his prime advisor. Due to Pantůček’s powerful position, the Young Czech Party leaders knew about and could react accordingly and in time to all changes planned in the administration of justice. As the ailing Jansa became less energetic, his spiritus agens Pantůček became even more power­ful.48 He should be seen behind most of Jansa’s actions. Škarda expressed this very fact in one of his letters: “Jansa without Pantůček is a weakling left at the mercy of Germans.”49 On the other hand, with the support of Pantůček Jansa was a decisive supporter of the Czech cause who performed an invasion of Czech judges into German-speaking territories, who introduced the Czech language into courts in German parts of Bohemia and excluded the German language from those in Czech-speaking areas. He hired only full-blooded Czechs in his presidium. One of them, Pantůček, proved to be a ruthless executor of Czech administration. President Jansa has tolerated that judges take their oath in Czech and that the courts have corresponded in Czech, too. He has been a president who did not take orders from his superiors, but from the Young Czech Party.50

Pantůček earned the respect and support of the party, who named him as its candidate for the position of the head of the personnel department in the Ministry of Justice in December 1899. But the time and conditions were not favourable for a Young Czech candidate, since there was no longer a Czech minister in the cabinet. Therefore, Škarda addressed his request for Pantůček’s appointment to Antonín Rezek, a department chief (Sektionschef) in the Ministry of Education, but to no avail.51 A few months later, Rezek became minister without portfolio, unofficially for Czech affairs, in the new government of Ernest von Koerber.52 Even though Rezek was not a member 47

ÖStA, HHStA, Kabinettskanzlei, Vorträge, carton 29/1905, Zahl 2806; on his career, see also his Standesausweis in ÖStA, AVA, Justizministerium, Präsidium, carton 172, and Adlgasser 2014a, 887–888. 48 Národní listy, 21 November 1900: Z vrchního soudu Království českého. 49 Klečacký 2017, 103: Škarda to Rezek, 2 March 1900. 50 Neue Freie Presse, 21 November 1900: Ober-Landesgerichts-Präsident Franz Jansa. 51 Klečacký 2017, 70–73, 80–81: Škarda to Rezek, 10 December 1899, 22 December 1899, 31 December 1899, 20 January 1900. 52 See Velek 1998, 49–63.

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of a political party, his relations to the Young Czechs were very close and he actively co-ordinated his actions with the party’s leading representatives. Personnel policies were an important part of Rezek’s business from the outset.53 At the very beginning of his mission, he was asked to obtain the title and character of Oberlandesgerichtsrat for Pantůček, since this promotion would be generally considered as a reward for his services to the party and attract more civil servants to follow in his footsteps. The Minister of Justice, Freiherr Alois von Spens-Booden, a former department chief in the ministry and Governor of Moravia, was rather reluctant about this plan, but Prime Minister Koerber needed the Young Czech’s benevolence in the upcoming conferences to solve the Bohemian language problem.54 They both stalled; Koerber made promises and Spens-Booden blatantly lied.55 When the language conferences failed, the prime minister had no reason any longer to take the Czech demands into account. On the contrary, his ­cabinet initiated a counterattack against the widespread and ongoing practise in Bohemian courts of conducting their administration in Czech, although the relevant regulations had been abolished almost a year earlier. The blame was put on Jansa, since it was his duty to discipline disobedient judges and ensure that the justice administration respected government regulations in language matters. The Justice Minister therefore launched a plan to force Jansa into retirement. But since judges enjoyed constitutional protection, Jansa had to apply for retirement himself. With the support of the Young Czech Party and Minister Rezek, Jansa repeatedly resisted requests by the ministry. On 14 November 1900, Minister Spens-Booden invited him to yet another ­audience, determined to use his last trump card: a letter in which Jansa had promised to resign seven years after his appointment as court ­president. The minister offered everything he could to force an early resignation: a full pension, an ennoblement (which was Jansa’s ardent wish) and a lump sum of 8,000 Kronen as financial aid to ease his retirement.56 This money was certainly a bribe, purely and simply. Jansa did not need any financial support, and he lived alone with his wife with decent savings and no debts. Moreover, in November the ministry had no resources left to pay for this allowance, but the minister did not hesitate to stretch the budget when the opportunity arose to get rid of a problematic judge. Another interesting circumstance was that half of the money was paid by the Ministry of the Interior, which Jansa had 53

Jiroušek 2002, 109–128. 54 See Rutkowski 1991, 38–212. 55 Archiv Národního muzea v Praze

[Archive of the National Museum in Prague], Škarda Family Papers, carton 1, Pacák to Škarda, 20 February 1900. 56 ÖStA, AVA, Justizministerium, Präsidium, carton 53, Zahl 244/1900.

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no official relationship with. The administrator of the Interior Ministry was in fact Prime Minister Koerber, so obviously it was in his interest as well to see Jansa leave. When Rezek learned what had happened, he could not hide his contempt: “Jansa let himself be led astray and he came here [to Vienna], although nobody ordered him to! He went to the Minister of Justice instead of to me and proved himself to be a coward.”57 Jansa’s resignation caused dismay in the Young Czech Party. In a­ larmist articles, Czech papers tried to guess who was going to be his successor. But the government had already made its decision. The new president was to be Viktor Ritter von Wessely, a German from Moravia, who had headed the Provincial Court in Brünn (Brno) since 1899. He was experienced, relatively young and vigorous at the age of 55, and more of a bureaucrat than a judge. Before his appointment in Brünn, he had served as president of the Bukovina provincial court in Czernowitz. His qualifications convinced the prime minister that Wessely was the person he needed for Bohemia: “In all respects, a formidable president who is, due to his perfect qualities, generally respected by his subordinates, who he treats with commendable vigour, so he is not only respected, but also feared.”58 The nomination process went off extraordinarily fast. Jansa had resigned on 14 November, and two days later, on a Friday, the Council of Ministers met and agreed on Wessely. On Monday the file was sent to the emperor’s office and on Tuesday it landed on Franz Joseph’s desk together with the prime minister’s accompanying letter asking to expedite the process as much as possible “with regard to numerous interventions from parliamentary circles.”59 Minister Rezek could not prevent Wessely’s nomination, nor could he push through a proposed alternative, an older and milder German candidate. His failure was reflected and widely commented on in the press, which talked about a government crisis and anticipated that Rezek would resign.60 Although this did not happen, the relationship between Koerber and Rezek cooled off. Wessely’s arrival in Prague brought about major changes not only in the justice administration, but also in the Supreme Provincial Court. Pantůček lost his position as the president’s bureau chief, and since he expected no change in the situation any time soon, he accepted the Young Czechs’ offer to run for a seat in the Austrian parliament in the forthcoming elections. He spent the next five years as a deputy for Prague’s New Town in the Reichsrat 57

Klečacký 2017, 131: Rezek to Škarda, 21 November 1900. ÖStA, AVA, Justizministerium, Präsidium, carton 53, Zahl 243/1900. 59 ÖStA, HHStA, Kabinettskanzlei, Vorträge, carton 18/1900, Zahl 3055. 60 See Národní listy, 23 November 1900: Rytíř Wessely a dr. Rezek; Neue Freie Presse, 23 November 1900: Keine Rezek-Krise. 58

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in Vienna,61 where the party extensively used his expert opinion and knowledge every time the Ministry of Justice proceeded to promotions and transfers in Bohemia. In 1906, he resigned after he had been appointed Privy Councillor (Hofrat) at the Supreme Administrative Court (Verwaltungsge­ richtshof) in Vienna. In his profession as a judge, he was no exception in the Lower House. Besides Pantůček, 15 more judges were elected to the House of Representatives in 1901. Apart from teachers, they constituted the biggest group of civil servants actively involved in political life. With Jansa gone, the Czech Party lost one important position, but it had gained a new, even more important one. In January 1900, the position of a Czech minister without portfolio (so-called Landsmannminister) had been re-introduced.62 His mission, as he and the Czech parties understood it, was to advocate for the interests of the Czech lands and the Czech nation. Although he presented himself as the minister for the lands of the Bohemian Crown, his real attention was focused only on one nation living there, his Czech compatriots. The institution of a Czech minister continued to exist throughout the first decade of the 20th century, and in 1906 the Czech minister was given a German counterpart. For both of them, the justice administration represented a major field of interest. A dense network of county courts and a large number of officials with university education made the justice system a perfect place for national conflicts. Judges became, more or less voluntarily, the hostages of political parties, their deputies and ministers. Reluctance or indifference on the part of the government to address the acute existential problems of young judicial candidates or judges holding lower ranks compelled these jurists to seek help wherever they could expect a possible improvement in their career opportunities. Czech and German political parties welcomed them, demanded, however, unconditional acceptance and surrender to the national cause, if a judge wanted to count on their support. The ideal of an impartial official in the tradition of Joseph II had no place in this scheme. Judges who wanted to stay above political parties and nationally impartial and be in contact with both Czechs and Germans would remain without support, with no minister or deputy to intervene for them. The government tried to accommodate the wishes and demands of Czech and German parties, which were obviously incompatible in most cases, so little room was left for judges 61 62

Adlgasser 2014a, 887–888 on Pantůček’s parliamentary career. Alois (since 1882 Freiherr von) Pražák had held this function since 1879, and from 1881– 1888 he also headed the Ministry of Justice. After his resignation in 1892, no successor was appointed.

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serving only the emperor and the state. Besides their legal minds, sense of justice and other qualities, the judges were also appraised for their national commitment. Attorneys, mayors, party secretaries and deputies reflected their behaviour and public actions, recommending them for political support. A formally independent judge must have felt these requirements and might also have attempted to respond to them, perhaps sub-consciously, since they did not harm his chances of promotion.

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Running the Show in the Adriatic Provinces The Last Three Austrian Governors in Trieste (1898–1918) Marion Wullschleger In the crownlands of late Habsburg Austria, the governors were key ­ gures in political life. As the most senior state officials in the region, they fi played a crucial role in the multi-level system of governance. Within the hierarchy of the state bureaucracy, the governor was placed in the middle between the higher echelons in the Viennese ministries and the lower levels of the counties (Bezirkshauptmannschaften). On the regional (i.e. horizontal) level, the governor and his agencies interacted with a wide variety of social, political, administrative and economic actors who themselves had ties to other actors on the central, regional or local levels. This article looks at one such governor’s post in particular: the Littoral (Küstenland, Litorale), an administrative unit encompassing the three crownlands of Görz-Gradiska (Gorizia-Gradisca, Gorica-Gradiška), Trieste (Triest, Trst) and Istria (Istrien, Istra). Historical scholarship on the Adriatic provinces of the Habsburg Empire in the late 19th and early 20th centuries has long focused on civil society. The national narratives of the successor states dominated the debate for a long time, and their historiography concentrated on the development of national movements and the ensuing conflicts between those movements. The other important segment of civil society which attracted historiographical interest was the labor movement, especially in the city of Trieste. In my own research, I have put more emphasis on the role of the state and its representatives by highlighting the contacts and interactions between the state and societal actors in the region, both before and during the First World War.1 In trying to understand the practical workings of politics in the Littoral, some of the central questions are: Which were the most important actors in the network that linked the governors in Trieste to other institutions and 1

As Gary B. Cohen has pointed out, we still do not know enough about the relationship between the administrative state and civil society in late Habsburg Austria; Cohen 2007, 243; Cohen 1998, 38.

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i­ndividuals in the governance system and in civil society? Which roles did the governors play when interacting with these different actors? In the following pages, I will first focus on the highest level of the Habsburg gover­ nance system by analyzing the governors’ interactions with their superiors at the top of the chain of command. Then, the focus will shift to the regional and local levels in the Littoral. After a look at the state bureaucracy stationed in the region, I will turn to the many societal players the governors in Trieste interacted with, from the general population to organized interest groups, political parties and institutions of provincial and local self-government. With a territory of 8,000 km2 and about 890,000 inhabitants,2 the ­Littoral was important to the Habsburg Monarchy primarily for its geopolitical ­location. Its administrative center Trieste, the seat of the governorate for all three crownlands, was the third-biggest city in Austria, the most important seaport of the Monarchy and a major commercial and industrial center.3 Its position in the state structure was unique, as it combined the rights of a city and a crownland.4 Three men held the post of governor in Trieste between 1898 and 1918. However, it is beyond the scope of this article to give detailed biographical information about the protagonists of this story. Some basic ­information should suffice. Count Leopold Goëss (1848–1922) acted as governor in Trieste from 1898 to 1904. After completing his university education, he joined the ranks of the judicially trained officials of the political administration and steadily worked his way upwards to the post of governor (Landespräsident) of Bukovina and then governor in Trieste.5 He spent his retirement managing his extensive estate in Carinthia.6 Prince Konrad Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst (1868–1918) was the longest-serving governor in the history of the Austrian Littoral, holding this post from 1904 to 1915, with a short interruption when he headed the Austrian government. After completing his legal studies, he swiftly climbed the career ladder, alternating between posts in the ministerial bureaucracy and assignments in Bohemia and Styria. He followed in Goëss’s footsteps as governor of Bukovina before going to Trieste. In May 1906, he was called to Vienna to take over as prime minister, but after only four weeks he returned to Trieste, where he continued his work as governor until 1915. 2 3 4 5

6

Hof- und Staats-Handbuch 1915, 699. Cattaruzza 2002. Winkler 2000, 48–50. While in most cases the governor was named Statthalter, in some smaller crownlands he bore the title of Landespräsident. The distinction was only symbolic, the function was the same. ÖBL 1959, 18.

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After a brief stint in military service on the Russian front, Hohenlohe became minister of the interior in the cabinet of Count Karl Stürgkh and later acted as Obersthofmeister of Emperor Karl, a position his father had held under Franz Joseph for thirty years.7 Freiherr Alfred Fries-Skene (1870–1947) held a doctorate in public law. Compared with his two predecessors, he came from a modest background, but he increased his connections and funds by marrying advantageously.8 After working in the administration of Carinthia, Trieste and Vienna, he was appointed Landespräsident of Carinthia, before returning to Trieste as governor in 1915. After his farewell from Trieste in October 1918, he had a nervous breakdown and only slowly found his way back into post-war society.9 The Cisleithanian cabinet and ministries All Austrian governors were directly subordinate to the minister of the interior, their agencies in the provinces being an extension of this ministry. It issued the largest number of direct instructions regarding administrative and political issues and was responsible for appointing the county prefects (Bezirks­hauptmänner), the direct subordinates of the governors in each crownland. Since the governors were not only responsible for those policy areas which fell into the competences of the interior ministry, other ministries – primarily those of religious affairs and education, agriculture, finance and commerce – also regularly sent directives to the governors and received their reports in return.10 The governors not only corresponded regularly with the minister of the interior, but also with the prime minister. Written direc-

7

ÖBL 1959, 392–393. See also Höbelt 2013 and Adlgasser 2014a, 472–473. His wife Lucy was the daughter of Alfred Freiherr von Skene (1849–1917), a sugar industrialist and politician, member of the Moravian diet, of the Abgeordnetenhaus and the Herrenhaus. See the biographical article in Adlgasser 2014a, 1161. 9 ÖBL 1957, 367. For a short overview of Fries-Skene’s life, see Österreichisches Staats­ archiv, Allgemeines Verwaltungsarchiv (ÖStA, AVA), Nachlass (NL) Fries-Skene, carton 5. Josef C. Wirth, Alfred von Fries-Skene. Ein Lebensbild aus dem alten Österreich, Vienna around 1950. For a fuller discussion of Hohenlohe’s and Fries-Skene’s backgrounds and career steps in various crownlands, see Wullschleger 2015, 16. 10 Reichs-Gesetz-Blatt für das Kaiserthum Österreich Nr. 44 v. 19. Mai 1868. Gesetz über die Einrichtung der politischen Verwaltungsbehörden in den im Reichsrathe vertretenen Königreichen und Ländern, § 3. For more information on the competencies of governors, see Mayrhofer 1880–1881, I 230–234. The most important records of correspondence between the governors in Trieste and the ministers and prime ministers in Vienna can be found in ÖStA, AVA, Inneres, Ministerium des Innern (MdI), Präsidium (Präs.) as well as in the Archivio di Stato di Trieste (ASTS), Imperial regia Luogotenenza del Litorale, atti presidiali (IRLLAP) and atti presidiali riservati (IRLLAPR). 8

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tives from Vienna were usually concerned with very specific subjects and only rarely contained outlines of broader political projects or programs. Even for the governors of the rather remote provinces, it was common to travel to Vienna several times a year. Controversial issues were often discussed face to face rather than by letter, telegram or telephone. These ­visits also served another purpose, that of cultivating personal contacts among the central bureaucracy. Only if the current minister of the interior or prime ­minister remembered the face of a particular official, did they put forward his name for a top cabinet position or a more prestigious governorship. Since cabinets changed frequently (there were sixteen different prime ministers during the last twenty years of the Habsburg Monarchy), the ministers in Vienna often had to rely on the expert knowledge of the longer-serving ­governors, who had become specialists in regional politics and economics. Generally speaking, one of the governor’s most important tasks was to act as the eyes and ears of the Viennese central government in the crownlands, making forecasts about future political developments, and thus influencing government policies vis-à-vis the provinces. In general, the tone the cabinet ministers used with the governors in ­Trieste was respectful, even when inevitable conflicts arose. After all, one could never be sure if the current governor would not one day head the govern­ment himself. Generally, the governors in Trieste and the cabinet ministers agreed on the broad political goals. In the policy-making process, it fell to the governor to make suggestions and put forward proposals about different approaches, methods, instruments, as well as the necessary time and resources to reach the goal agreed upon. The decision about which course of action should be taken, however, ultimately lay with the cabinet ministers (and sometimes the emperor). During the implementation phase of a policy, the governor supervised his officials and kept an eye on evaluating whether a particular measure had the desired effect and reported his findings back to Vienna. Conflicts between governors and cabinets did arise regularly, however, and most of them in conjunction with the policy of combating Italian irredentism. All three governors wrote countless proposals to Vienna, expounding the most expedient ways to fight this movement viewed as subversive, but most of these proposals were shelved, whilst only a very small number of them received the government’s approval and were put into practice in the region. The crown Even though the minister of the interior was usually the person to suggest a particular official for the post of governor in cabinet meetings, the

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ultimate decision regarding appointment, transfer, or retirement fell to the emperor.11 Such personnel issues were discussed among the cabinet members and with the emperor beforehand. Face to face meetings between governors and the emperor typically took place shortly before a governor assumed office and was dispatched to his new assignment. In the policy-making process in Cisleithania, the emperor always had the ultimate say, and could become involved in any policy area, if he wanted to.12 The emperor ultimately controlled the most powerful political instruments that the governors in Trieste could try to employ when dealing with politicians or representative bodies in their respective corner of the Empire. In the case of the three crownlands of the Littoral, the governor’s suggestions to veto a particular bill or to dissolve or suspend a diet were followed most of the time. Emperor Franz Joseph did not visit the Littoral in the years under consideration here, 1898 to 1918. His last visit dated back to 1882 and was clouded by an Italian irredentist’s attempt on his life. Emperor Karl and his wife Zita, on the other hand, visited Trieste and Görz-Gradiska in 1917. The population of Trieste gave them an enthusiastic welcome, particularly Empress Zita, who was especially popular among the Italian-speaking population due to her family ties to Italy.13 In the sources, there are no traces of political plans by Emperor Karl for the Littoral or of personal intervention in its political life. In the last ten years before his death in 1914, the heir apparent Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s influence on domestic policy was also increasingly felt in the Littoral. He took a marked interest in the region and visited ­Trieste and Istria regularly. Governor Hohenlohe was a frequent guest of Franz ­Ferdinand at the castle in Miramare, where they discussed domestic and foreign policy issues.14 Hohenlohe was also a regular guest at Franz Ferdinand’s hunting parties in Bohemia and the Alpine provinces,15 and he corresponded frequently with the archduke’s military chancellery. After ­Hohenlohe’s d­ ebacle during his very short tenure as prime minister in 1906 and his subsequent return to Trieste, he joined the ranks of frustrated reformers who surrounded 11

RGBl Nr. 44/1868, § 13. RGBl Nr. 145 v. 21. Dezember 1867. Staatsgrundgesetz über die Ausübung der Regie­ rungs- und Voll­zugs­gewalt, art. 2. 13 ÖStA, AVA, NL Fries-Skene, carton 3. Alfred Fries-Skene, Österreichs Schicksalstage an der Adria. Erinnerungen des letzten kaiserlichen Statthalters in Triest, Vienna, June 1919, 42. 14 See, for example, the description of one such meeting in Familienarchiv Hohenlohe (FAH). Franziska Hohenlohe (the governor’s wife) to her son Alfred, Trieste, 25 March 1914. 15 See Galandauer 2014, 124 for a description of such a hunting party. 12

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the heir apparent,16 hoping one day to come to the fore again, all the while balancing his aspirations for the future with his current post as the emperor’s representative in the administration. Even though Franz Ferdinand’s influence on domestic policy was growing steadily, Emperor Franz Joseph still had the last word. So, in spite of the combined forces of the military, Hohenlohe and Archduke Franz Ferdinand, a more heavy-handed approach towards immigration from Italy or Italian irredentism in the Littoral never materialized before 1914.17 It is impossible to judge which reform plans for the ­Littoral Franz Ferdinand really would have implemented once he had ascended the throne. His plans were sketchy and at times contradictory. Would Trieste have been incorporated into a South Slavic part of the Empire in a trialist state structure? Would the three diets have been merged into a single one with two national curiae? Would he have implemented radical reforms at all?18 The military Until 1911, the governors in Trieste interacted only once in a while with the regional military commander in Graz, his subordinate commander in Trieste and the navy commanders in Pola (Pula), typically when the scale of social or national conflicts in the city of Trieste necessitated the use of the military to support other security forces.19 After 1911, the co-operation between the civilian and military administrations in the region became markedly closer. At the instigation of the military and civilian leadership in Vienna, Hohenlohe now regularly organized conferences between civilian and military officials in the region.20 This growing co-operation was also 16 17

18

19

20

Höbelt 2009, 112. FAH. Hubert Hohenlohe, Erinnerungen an Vater, Innsbruck, May 1944, 25. For Franz Ferdinand’s ideas on how to combat Italian irredentism in the Littoral see, for example, ÖStA, Kriegsarchiv (KA), Allerhöchster Oberbefehl (AhOB), Militär­kanzlei des Generalinspektors der gesamten bewaffneten Macht Erzherzog Franz Ferdinand (MKFF), carton 77, Pö/133. Bardolff to Heinold, Vienna, 4 January 1913 as well as ibid. carton 50, Pö/42. Report of the Flügeladjutant to Franz Ferdinand, Vienna, 11 September 1911. The so-called Miramarefaszikel (Miramare portfolio) in the MKFF attests to the archduke’s interest in the region, but the reform plans for the Littoral remained vague. For details on the plans to merge the three crownlands into one and to introduce two separate national chambers in the diet (modelled on the Moravian compromise of 1905), see ­ÖStA, KA, AhOB, MKFF, carton 204, nr. 15a. Kaiserliches Manifest, draft version, no date. For recent assessments of Franz Ferdinand’s reform plans, see Hannig 2013, 99–103 and Bled 2013, 209–211. For such instances related to labor strikes, see Cattaruzza 1995, 59–117. ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 358, fasc. 10-d, Zl. 1263. Instruction by the Minister of the I­nterior to the Governor in Trieste, Vienna, 7 July 1911. Hohenlohe assured the minister that

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due to the influence of Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf as chief of the general staff. Conrad had held the post of military commander in Trieste from 1899 to 1903 and was later stationed in Innsbruck, before moving to Vienna in 1906. From his work in the Southern provinces, he derived marked ill-will against Italy and the Italian irredentist movement. Under his leadership, the military’s war planning concerned itself primarily with the possibility of a pre-emptive strike against Italy.21 Conrad’s appointment as chief of the ­general staff in 1906 also influenced the domestic policy in the Littoral and the other Southern provinces. Immigrants from Italy as well as Austrian ­citizens with radical Italian nationalist attitudes came under increasing scrutiny from the military and the state administration, which both summarily suspected them of irredentist propaganda or of being likely saboteurs in the event of war against Italy. Irredentist forces in Italy and Austria were seen as the gravest threat to the state, whereas other subversive elements like anarchism or Slavic nationalism were deemed much less dangerous. However, even the combined forces of Governor Hohenlohe, the regional and central heads of the military, as well as Archduke Franz Ferdinand were not enough to pressurize the cabinet (and ultimately the emperor) into supporting drastic measures against immigration from Italy or against allegedly irredentist political parties or associations in the Littoral.22 Before the outbreak of the war with Italy in May 1915, concerns for the stability of the Triple Alliance always overruled domestic concerns.23 After the outbreak of war in the summer of 1914, Hohenlohe’s position in Trieste became untenable. The governments in Vienna and Berlin hoped to keep Italy out of the war, and in February 1915 Hohenlohe had to vacate his post.24 For a few months, the new governor in Trieste, Fries-Skene, followed a more conciliatory policy vis-à-vis Italian radical nationalists in the Littoral. However, when Italy entered the war in May, he (together with the military)

21 22

23 24

co-­operation with the military agencies in the region was close. Regular civil-military ­conferences in Trieste presided over by Hohenlohe started in 1912, see ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 370, fasc. 16, Zl. 1113. Minister of the Interior to the Governor in Trieste, Vienna, 9 June 1912. Conrad von Hötzendorf 1921, 31; Sondhaus 2000, 59–70; Dornik 2013, 52–57; Kronenb­ itter 2003, 322–326. See, for example, the attempts of the military and Franz Ferdinand to put a stop to immigration from Italy into the Littoral and to deport foreigners who had settled in the region. Hohenlohe apparently agreed to these demands, but asserted that his hands were tied by his superiors in the civil administration. ÖStA, KA, AhOB, MKFF, carton 50, Pö/42. Report by the Flügeladjutant to Franz Ferdinand, Vienna, 11 September 1911. For the effects of the Triple Alliance on domestic policy, see Cattaruzza 1995, 149. FAH, Hubert Hohenlohe, Erinnerungen an Vater, 48.

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seized the opportunity to crack down on Italian immigrants and Austrian citizens suspected of irredentism. Military and police forces co-operated closely in arresting alleged Italian irredentists and “serbophiles”. Over 1,000 Austrian and 5,000 Italian citizens were arrested and deported to internment camps in the Austrian hinterland.25 About 10,000 women, children and elderly (all Italian citizens) were deported through neutral Switzerland, and voluntary and professional associations tainted by irredentist or serbophile allegations were dissolved.26 Fries-Skene and the Military Command of the Southwest Front agreed that the time had come to effect long-overdue domestic reforms. Their corresponding proposals to the government included: ● banning immigration from Italy (by creating a border protection zone) ● permanently reducing the sphere of provincial and communal autonomy (by granting direct veto rights to the governor against diet and city council decisions) ● purging the state and autonomous bureaucracy and teaching staff of radical Italian nationalists ● increasing the hours devoted to learning German in the school curricula27 Even though ex-governor Hohenlohe held the post of interior minister in the first half of 1916 and supported the ideas put forward by the military and Fries-Skene, Prime Minister Stürgkh and Emperor Franz Joseph eventually prevented such radical reforms.28 When Emperor Karl ascended the throne in autumn 1916, the political climate started to change. Fries-Skene’s carefully drafted proposals were simply filed away in the Viennese ministries

25

Cecotti 2001; Wedrac 2012, 77, 80; Wiggermann 2004, 362–364. ÖStA, AVA, Inneres, MdI, Präs., carton 2123, Zl. 29610. Fries-Skene, Die politische Verwaltung des Küstenlandes in eineinhalb Kriegsjahren, Trieste, November 1916, 40, 131; ibid., Zl. 9169, 1/20 Reservat. President of the k. k. Polizeidirektion in Trieste, Die Tätigkeit der k. k. Polizei-Direktion Triest im Jahre 1915/16, vor und nach Beginn des italienischen Krieges (bis Mitte Februar 1916), Trieste, 15 February 1916, 28, 81. For details on the dissolution of the Lega Nazionale, see Wedrac 2009. 27 Führ 1968, 128–155. ÖStA, AVA, Inneres, MdI, Präs., carton 2123, Zl. 29610. FriesSkene: Die politische Verwaltung, 34, 57. For Fries-Skene’s plans for a border protection zone, see ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 403, Zl. 1989. Governor in Trieste to Command of the Southwest Front, Trieste, 29 October 1915. 28 Führ 1968, 156. In 1915, the military leadership put Hohenlohe’s name forward as a possible candidate to replace Prime Minister Stürgkh, but Emperor Franz Joseph did not deem Hohenlohe suitable for the post, ibid., 168. 26

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“for future reference”.29 Never again did Fries-Skene risk putting forward such ambitious projects.30 From May 1915 until 1917, Fries-Skene, like all other governors in provinces close to the front lines, had to share his powers with the most senior military commander in the region.31 Conflicts between the civil and military authorities were a regular occurrence, and not just in the Littoral, as Heiko Brendel shows in his article on the administration of Habsburg occupied territories.32 One example is the conflict over the Landesausschuss of Görz-Gradiska. In 1914, the central government had decided to suspend the central and provincial parliaments, thereby instituting “war absolutism” in Austria. In the Littoral, the autonomous government (Landesausschuss) of Istria and the Trieste city council were suspended and replaced by state officials.33 The same repressive measure was applied to the representative organs of eighteen municipalities.34 In the following years, various military agencies repeatedly attacked the Landesausschuss of Görz-Gradiska, but Fries-Skene defended its members emphatically. In his opinion, it would have been ill-advised to alienate political forces loyal to Austria by unnecessary repression. Political life and popular participation would resume after the impending victory of the Central Powers, and the state administration would have to co-operate again with civil society groups.35 Eventually, this autonomous institution was allowed to function continuously until the end of the Habsburg Monarchy. Another area where conflicts erupted regularly was the provision of food and fuel to the Littoral.36 Fries-Skene wanted to avoid popular unrest at all 29

30

31

32 33 34 35 36

Such centralist reform plans had a long tradition among the higher echelons of the ­Austrian bureaucracy. Fries-Skene was probably influenced by Prime Minister Ernest von Koerber’s reform plans which are discussed, for example, in Lindström 2008, 49–57. These abortive plans for radical reform in the Littoral are a case in point for Führ’s argument that the civilian authorities were not at the sole mercy of the military. Führ 1968, 88. For a differing view, casting the political administration as the “handmaid and executive of the military”, see Deak 2015, 266. RGBl Nr. 133 v. 23. Mai 1915. Kaiserliche Verordnung betreffend die Übertragung von Befugnissen der politischen Verwaltung. This ordinance was abrogated in June 1917, Führ 1968, 175. See 187–212. Wedrac 2014a, 200; Wiggermann 2004, 364–368. For more information on bureaucracy and government in Istria during wartime, see Lasciac 1939. ÖStA, AVA, Inneres, MdI, Präs., carton 2123, Zl. 29610. Fries-Skene, Die politische Verwaltung, 13. Wedrac 2014a, 200–201. See, for example, ÖStA, AVA, Inneres, MdI, Präs., carton 2083, Zl. 7006. Fries-Skene to Command of the Southwest Front, Trieste, 29 March 1916. For Fries-Skene’s view on these conflicts, see ÖStA, AVA, NL Fries-Skene, carton 3. FriesSkene, Österreichs Schicksalstage, 24; ibid., carton 5. Wirth, Alfred von Fries-Skene, 27.

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costs, but the longer the war continued, the fewer foodstuffs the military was willing to share with the civilian authorities. The state bureaucracy in the Littoral During the second half of the 19th century, the vigorous growth in responsibilities, budget and personnel considerably increased the autonomy of the crownlands and communes. The central government rivaled this expansion of public services with its own massive increase in budget, number of officials and legal responsibilities.37 The number of government agencies from various branches of the state administration in the Littoral with which the governor interacted regularly was staggering. Firstly, he had to supervise his own staff of the political administration, which doubled its case load as well as its size (from 155 officials in 1899 to 379 in the spring of 1914).38 The growth occurred primarily among technical personnel, such as sanitary and veterinary officials, engineers for the construction and maintenance of infrastructure, and forestry and agricultural departments.39 Governor FriesSkene, however, faced a severe staff shortage, as officials were called up for military service or had to take over positions formerly held by officials of the autonomous institutions. In 1915 and 1916, his staff shrunk to 56% of its pre-war size.40 The situation seemed to improve slightly later in the war, and in March 1917 only 92 officials (out of 371) were absent due to military service.41 Another 1,100 men (and about 50 women) of the k.k. police forces also belonged to this group of officials under the governor’s direct supervision.42 Secondly, the governor in Trieste was charged with heading the finance directorate (Finanz-Landesdirektion) with its 2,200 civil servants43 as well as coordinating with other agencies like the Gendarmerie, the naval administration (Seebehörde), and the postal and railway services. Other institutions included secondary schools, museums and libraries. The judicial system with its courts and district attorneys was independent of the political administration, as was the military. 37 38 39 40

41 42 43

Cohen 1998, 49. For the increasing numbers of officials, see Personalstand Triest 1899, 1904, 1914. Deak 2014, 370. ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 399, Zl. 2341. Governor in Trieste to Minister of the Interior, Trieste, 24 November 1915. Ibid., b. 403, Zl. 1989/17. Governor in Trieste to Command of the Southwest Front, Trieste, 12 May 1916. Personalstand Triest 1917. ÖStA, AVA, NL Max Wladimir Beck, carton 34. FriesSkene to Beck, Trieste, 1 December 1917. Personalstand der k. k. Polizei-Direktion 1911. Personalstands-Verzeichnis 1909.

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Thirdly, the governor presided directly or indirectly over a range of mixed commissions, consisting of representatives of the state administration, the autonomous institutions and civil society, which performed various essential tasks at the regional level, for example, the provincial school, public health, agricultural, or accident insurance boards.44 Due to the linguistic complexity of the Littoral, multilingualism was widespread among all civil servants, not only among those at the highest levels of the hierarchy. For their daily work, it was essential to be bi- or trilingual (Italian/German or Italian/Slovene-Croatian), while officials with language skills in all four languages were especially sought after.45 Civil society Interactions between the governor and the general population or organi­ zed parts of civil society could take on many different forms. One of the official duties of each governor in his role as the highest crown official in the province was to represent the absentee monarch (Landesfürst) at ceremonial functions, such as the emperor’s birthday or religious ceremonies. In ­Trieste, the governor’s representative functions regularly included staging the p­ ublic launch of the latest warship or feting foreign heads of state and members of high-profile military missions.46 During mass in Trieste Cathedral or processions across the city, the governor held the place of prominence. His symbolic representation of the emperor was visible to the people standing in front of the church or lining the streets. The state officials, provincial and municipal representatives and officials surrounding the governor played as much to their own roles in the production as they were part of its intended audience. In these very public acts, those present symbolically expressed their allegiance to the emperor and the state, while simultaneously strengthening the bond between the Adriatic provinces and the imperial center in 44

The various boards are listed in the respective section for the Littoral in the annually published Hof- und Staats-Handbuch. 45 Stenographische Protokolle über die Sitzungen des Hauses der Abgeordneten des ­ sterreichischen Reichsrates. XX. Session, 68. Sitzung am 26. November 1910, Anö hang I, Anträge 9429–9433. Interpellation des Abgeordneten Spinčić und Genossen. ­Hohenlohe was of the opinion that he lacked enough candidates with the necessary technical and language qualifications; ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 351, Zl. 326. Governor in Trieste to Minister of Public Works, Trieste, 7 March 1911. 46 See, for example, Fries-Skene’s account of the German Emperor’s visit to Trieste in ­ÖStA, AVA, NL Fries-Skene, carton 3. Fries-Skene, Österreichs Schicksalstage, 34–40. For the visit by the British ambassador and high-ranking naval officials in the spring 1914, see FAH. Franziska Hohenlohe (the governor’s wife) to her son Alfred, Trieste, 13 May 1914.

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Vienna. It is not surprising that the open boycott of such events by the whole leadership of the Italian national-liberal party of Trieste, apart from the mayor who acted as a “fig leaf”, was especially galling for the governors.47 As in late Habsburg Austria in general, most newspapers and periodicals in the Littoral were organs of political parties and therefore written from the perspective of the publishing group. In an era of mass politics, it was particularly important for a political party to possess a partisan mouthpiece. The governor, on the other hand, did not possess the same possibilities, but could nevertheless try to influence the regional and local press indirectly. In the Littoral, both before and during the World War, the governors repeatedly attempted to establish a loyalist Italian newspaper which could compete with the most widely-read Il Piccolo, the organ of the Italian national-liberal party. Such attempts proved futile, though, due to lack of funds, suitable personnel and readership. However, what every governor used regularly as an instrument to influence public opinion, was subsidizing already established newspapers in Italian, Slovene and German. The governors were especially keen to push articles critical of those political parties the government was currently battling with or articles about the beneficial results of the government’s spending program on infrastructure like roads, railways and ports.48 In the Littoral, governors also regularly used a considerable portion of the government’s budget (and in Hohen­lohe’s case also own private funds) ­covertly to subsidize loyal newspapers or patriotic associations for their “state propaganda”, as Fries-Skene termed it.49 Prior to 1914, the press in the Littoral could act relatively freely. Even though the governor and the public prosecutor’s office occasionally confiscated individual issues, the state tolerated a great deal, including direct 47

These festivities were regularly described in the local Italian, German, and Slovenian-language press. See, for example, the report on the emperor’s birthday in the leading Slovenian newspaper Edinost, 19 August 1914. One example of instructions to officials can be found in ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 427, Zl. 1477. Governor in Trieste Fries-Skene to all government offices in Trieste, 17 June 1916. For the role of the mayor, see ÖStA, KA, AhOB, MKFF, carton 181, fasc. 20. Triester Verwaltungsfragen, probably written by Bardolff to Franz Ferdinand, after August 1913 and before June 1914. On patriotic festivities and state patriotism in Austria in general, see also Bucur & Wingfield 2001, Unowsky 2005, Cole & Unowsky 2007. 48 See, for example, the correspondence between Hohenlohe and Prime Minister Bienerth in ASTS, IRLLAPR, b. 6, fasc. 34, Zl. 4, February 1910. For Fries-Skene’s initiatives in wartime, see ÖStA, AVA, Inneres, MdI, Präs., carton 2123, Zl. 29610. Fries-Skene, Die politische Verwaltung, 44. 49 For Hohenlohe’s regular private supplements to government subsidies for Austrian patriotic associations, see ASTS, IRLLAPR, b. 5, fasc. 31, Zl. 23. Hohenlohe to Minister of the Interior Bylandt-Rheidt, Trieste, 30 October 1905.

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c­riticism of state measures, Italian nationalist rhetoric with deliberately ambiguous wording, which might also have been construed in an irredentist sense, and use of aggressive language by one group of nationalist activists against the other(s). But with the outbreak of war in 1914, and especially after Italy’s entry in 1915, the government intensified its control over the press. While Il Piccolo was silenced, other newspapers carried on, notably the Social Democratic Il Lavoratore, which rose to the position of the most widely-read daily in the region. Economic, social and political developments spawned a staggering number of voluntary associations in the Littoral, as elsewhere in the Monarchy. From the perspective of the governors in Trieste, these manifold activities of civil society were only of particular interest if they influenced political life in the region. A whole series of cultural, sports and youth associations were suspected of spreading Italian irredentist propaganda among their members. It was rare, though, that the police gathered enough incriminating evidence to ban them, such as in 1904, when several youth associations had been involved in preparing assassination attempts.50 Those associations, however, which the governor deemed useful for promoting Austrian ­loyalism, received financial aid and could count on the governor’s attendance at their festivities like bazaars or balls.51 Other types of interest groups, such as the professional associations of physicians and lawyers or the chambers of ­commerce, also had close ties to the state administration and occasionally petitioned the governor directly to voice their demands. Political parties The upper echelons of the state bureaucracy in the Littoral did not always base their actions on the ideal of nonpartisanship (Unparteilichkeit) when it came to politics in the region. Which parties the government exactly favored or fought against in the Littoral depended to some degree on the preferences of the governor in charge. While Goëss and Fries-Skene both favored Christian Social parties of all national backgrounds, Hohenlohe had found political allies in the internationalist Social Democratic Party, which was especially strong in the city of Trieste, but negligible in the more rural areas 50

Marušić 2006, 553. ÖStA, AVA, Inneres, MdI, Präs., carton 2123, Zl. 9169, 1/20 Reservat. President of the k. k. Polizeidirektion in Trieste, Die Tätigkeit der k. k. Polizei-Direktion Triest im Jahre 1915/16, 74. 51 Into this category fell, for example, the associations Austria and Lega patriottica della gioventù triestina, see ASTS, IRLLAPR, b. 6, fasc. 34, Zl. 24. Governor Hohenlohe to Prime Minister Bienerth, Trieste, 16 December 1910. On patriotic mobilization among military veterans in the Littoral, see Cole 2014, 234–267.

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of the Littoral. The co-operation between the “red prince”52 and the “imperial-royal socialists” was legendary, if exaggerated by political opponents.53 All three governors were united in their animosity against the Italian ­national-liberal party, which they accused of national intolerance, ­chauvinism and even irredentism. However, the instruments to influence a party’s ascent or decline, or the outcome of elections, were limited. Tried and tested ­methods included: ● using newspapers subsidized by the government to publish critical articles about parties the government disliked ● supervising the work of the election commissions and controlling the lists of voters more or less strictly, according to the desired result ● influencing the votes of government officials and employees as far as ­possible (elections were secret) The instrument of gerrymandering could only be used to a limited extent, as the government depended on the consent of the politicians elected to the parliamentary bodies in order to change the existing electoral districts.54 As examples in other crownlands show, the government could have introduced a different (proportional) electoral system for provincial or municipal elections. Governor Hohenlohe did in fact repeatedly suggest such reforms, as he was trying to find ways to break the Italian national-liberal party’s dominance in Trieste. His superiors, however, rejected his proposals, fearing that the influence of the Social Democrats might become too strong in the city. Hohenlohe, on the other hand, would rather have welcomed such a change in the political climate of Trieste.55 At the outbreak of war against Italy, ­Governor Fries-Skene officially abolished the Italian national-liberal party. Its leaders had either emigrated to Italy or were deported to internment camps in central Austria. Other parties, however, e.g. the Social Democrats or the 52

For more information on the name “red prince”, see Höbelt 2013, 201–205. See also the obituary in the Vienna-based Arbeiter-Zeitung, 23 December 1918. 53 The witticism about the k. k. Sozialisten was also popular in Trieste (imperial-regi socialisti), Apih 1988, 92; Apollonio 2014, I 293. On Hohenlohe’s relationship with the Social Democrats in Trieste, see FAH. Hubert Hohenlohe, Erinnerungen an Vater, 57. For a discussion of multilingualism and internationalism among the Social Democrats in Trieste, see Rutar 2006, 60–63. 54 See the long process of reforming the suffrage system of municipal elections in Trieste described by Winkler 2000, 211–235. 55 See, for example, ASTS, IRLLAPR, b. 5, fasc. 31, Zl. 32. Hohenlohe to Minister of the Interior, Trieste, 16 December 1905. On the introduction of proportional representation in other crownlands, see Melik 1997, 195. Fries-Skene had similar plans to introduce a representational suffrage system in the Littoral, see ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 415, fasc. 4b, Zl. 195. Fries-Skene to Minister of the Interior, Trieste, 22 January 1916.

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Italian Christian Socials were allowed to continue some of their activities during wartime, for example by participating in Fries-Skene’s consultative commissions, created by the governor as a substitute for the suspended diets and municipal councils, or, in the case of Görz-Gradiska, in the autonomous institutions which were not dissolved.56 Self-governing institutions The constitutional framework of the Habsburg Monarchy assigned ­governors a wide range of responsibilities and competencies, while at the same time limiting their authority and the authority of the central government, most notably by creating self-governing institutions and administrative structures at the provincial and local levels. Federalist features in the constitutional framework of Cisleithania created a significant political space, which was largely autonomous of the centralist state structures. In the Littoral, self-governing institutions included the diets and their executive committees of the crownlands Istria and Görz-Gradiska; provincial officials and employees; the municipal councils, their executive committees, subordinate officials and communal employees in Trieste and the two cities with special statutes Görz and Rovigno (Rovinj); and municipal representatives and their officials and employees in all of the other over 260 bigger and smaller towns and communes.57 Representatives of the central state and of self-governing institutions interacted with one another very frequently. Austria’s “bureaucratic method of governing” relied on personal contact and constant negotiations between state officials, local dignitaries and party representatives.58 The legal and political framework forced both sides to co-operate in law-making and implementing policies in a variety of policy areas from agriculture to education, taxes, infrastructure, public health etc.59 At the same time, this enforced co-operation entailed, in effect, the power to veto one another’s bills. In the Littoral, this mechanism would lead time and again to obstructions in the 56

Fries-Skene chose the members of the commissions personally and presided over their meetings himself, so he retained tight control of their actions. On the most important food provisions commission (Approvisionierungskommission), see ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 421, fasc. 10c, Zl. 2202. Fries-Skene to Heeresgruppenkommando General-Oberst Erzherzog Eugen, Trieste, 10 August 1916. 57 The staff of the most important self-governing institutions were listed in the Hof- und Staats-Handbuch. For a short overview of the development of local autonomy in Trieste, see Wullschleger 2009, 226–230. 58 Deak 2015, 269. 59 Cohen 2013, 110, and 1998, 55.

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law-making process on the level of the crownlands. Despite these severe confrontations and the ensuing political stalemate, the Littoral also experienced periods of political compromise and co-operation. Prior to 1914, politics in the region could be quite turbulent. Two kinds of power struggles can be identified: on the one hand, national or social conflicts between represen­ tatives of different political parties; on the other, conflicts between political parties and central government institutions. Whenever the first type of power struggle erupted and threatened to paralyze a diet, council, committee, or a whole city (as in the case of general strikes), it was the governor’s duty to act as a mediator and arbiter between the warring groups.60 Between 1899 and 1900, for example, a substantial amount of Goëss’ attention was devoted to leading negotiations with ­Italian and Slovenian nationalist politicians in Görz-Gradiska over the issue of financing provincial schools.61 In Istria, it took the combined efforts of Prime Minister Max Wladimir Freiherr von Beck and Governor Hohenlohe to find a solution to suffrage reform acceptable to all national parties and the government in 1908. However, Hohenlohe had great hopes of a broader national compromise similar to the model implemented in Moravia. Such a national compromise would have been a huge success for Hohenlohe and would certainly have recommended him for a future cabinet post. Even though he devoted much time and energy to this project, he failed to broker any such solution by the time the war broke out.62 The frontlines between the national factions in the diet were too rigid to overcome, even for Hohenlohe, who knew every trick in the book. In confrontations of the second type, i.e. between the ruling majority in an autonomous institution and government forces, the governor in Trieste did not act as a broker or arbiter more or less above the parties concerned. Instead, he acted like the leader of a political camp. Again, we can differentiate between two different categories: type (a) where political parties wanted the government to act in a certain way in order for them to maximize their “slice of the cake” (the cake being the state), and type (b) where the govern­ ment endeavored to influence autonomous institutions to act in a specific way. The repeated complaints of discrimination from both Italian and Slovene/Croatian nationalist circles about the government’s hiring or promoting

60

For similar techniques employed by governors in other crownlands, see Cohen 2013, 108. Krahwinkler 2000, 1897. 62 Krahwinkler 2000, 1913; Urbanitsch 2011, 70–73; Wiggermann 2004, 86. 61

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of state officials belonging to the other respective national group63 can be counted among category (a). Falling under the same category were the constant demands for the government to establish a university in the Littoral, with Italian or Italian and Slovene as the language(s) of instruction, depending on the national affiliation of the petitioners.64 Conflicts over provincial bills which failed to gain government approval can also be categorized here. In Trieste, for example, Hohenlohe (respectively the emperor at the governor’s suggestion) vetoed the Italian national-liberal party’s proposals for a new land register and a new school supervision law. While the Italian majority in the diet wanted to change these two laws, introducing an official ban on using Slovene in both legal areas, this was unacceptable to the government.65 The most prominent political conflict in Trieste in the late Habsburg Monarchy fell under category (b). This was the conflict between Hohenlohe and the Italian national-liberal party, dominating the city’s autonomous institutions. Hohenlohe accused the party leadership of being covert irredentists and spreading irredentism among the population disguised as Italian nationalist propaganda.66 It is important to note here that Hohenlohe did in fact differentiate between Italian nationalism and irredentism. In his eyes, Italian nationalism was perfectly compatible with loyalty to the emperor and state.67 In Hohenlohe’s opinion, the majority party in Trieste deployed every means at its disposal to promote its political and national program such as: ● hiring Italian-speaking personnel (including many Italian citizens) for communal agencies and schools ● placing orders preferably with companies in the hands of Italian nation­ alist owners ● subsidizing the newspaper Il Piccolo as well as nationalist activist asso­ ciations from municipal funds ● tampering with the population census in Trieste (1900 and 1910) ● remodeling public space in Trieste by introducing symbols referring to the Kingdom of Italy (such as communal uniforms after the cut of Italian 63 64

65

66 67

A synopsis of Italian nationalist grievances can be found in Wedrac 2014b, 108. For the respective Slovene nationalist grievances, see Gombač 1979. Ara 1973, Pierazzi 1975. Cova 2000, 1949. For more details on the stalemate concerning the Schulaufsichtsgesetz and the Grundbuchgesetz, see ÖStA, KA, AhOB, MKFF, carton 181, fasc. 20. Triester Verwaltungsfragen. For more information on the co-operation between Italian nationalist journalists in Trieste and Italy, see Cattaruzza 2007, 64–66. See, for example, ASTS, IRLLAP, b. 396, Zl. 63. Memorandum of telephone call by Statthaltereipräsidium in Trieste to Ministry of the Interior, Trieste, 6 January 1915.

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military uniforms) or by eliminating the imperial eagle on the city’s coat of arms68

After the transfer of some minor competences from the city to the state authorities in 1906,69 Hohenlohe never managed to convince his superiors to limit the city’s autonomous sphere further by dissolving the council and executive committee permanently (as had happened in Bohemia in 1913). Even Hohenlohe’s attempts in 1913 to induce the city to dismiss employees lacking Austrian citizenship failed due to foreign policy considerations.70 Essentially, Hohenlohe was powerless, lacking the necessary authority to interfere in the autonomous sphere of the city. Only in 1915, when state officials were placed at the head of the municipal administration in the course of war absolutism, did this conflict come to an end. Conclusions With the introduction of the constitutional framework of 1867, the crown and the cabinet appointed by the crown ceded considerable authority, not only to the central parliament in Vienna, but also to autonomous institutions on the provincial and municipal levels. This resulted in a complicated mix of federalism and centralism. For the state officials holding the post of governor in Trieste, this multi-level governance system inevitably entailed a multitude of administrative and political actors whose needs, wishes and demands had to be taken into account. Compared with other governor’s posts in ­Austria, the task of juggling these multiple factors was even more complex for the governor in Trieste, as the Littoral encompassed not only one but three crownlands, all with their respective institutions, party landscapes and civil society groups. How successful were the governors in Trieste in “running the show” in the Littoral during the last twenty years of Austrian rule? Before the World War, the economy in the largest port center of the Monarchy was thriving, and the process of urbanization was in full swing. The political sphere, however, gave rise to optimism and pessimism in equal measure, fluctuating between dynamic and turbulent. Periods of national and social strife, political gridlock and confrontation alternated with more quiet phases and consensual 68

For a systematic discussion of Hohenlohe’s and Fries-Skene’s accusations, see ­ÖStA, AVA, Inneres, MdI, Präs., carton 2123, Zl. 29610. Fries-Skene, Die politische Verwal­ tung, 11–12. See also Wedrac 2014a, 194. 69 Apollonio 2014, I 158; Cova 2000, 1947; Winkler 2000, 50; Wedrac 2014a, 195. 70 Wiggermann 2004, 160–161.

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co-operation. In the rural areas of Istria and Görz-Gradiska, as well as among the Social Democratic constituency, the Slovenian nationalist milieu and the economic elite of Trieste, loyalties to the emperor and state were strong. The degree of alienation from the Habsburg state among the Italian-speaking bourgeois middle-class population of the towns in the Littoral should not be overrated nor downplayed. Not every supporter of the Italian national-­liberal party was a covert irredentist, secretly waiting for national redemption from the Austrian yoke. Among the party leadership, among radical student groups and the teaching profession, many people did in fact harbor such sympathies. Nevertheless, they decided to participate in the structures provided by the Austrian state, foregoing any fundamental boycott. Most of the time, they abided by the rules of the political and legal system. A governor played various roles and wore many different hats when interacting with the multitude of institutional and individual actors in late Habsburg Austria. He acted as an extension (or even henchman) of the crown and the government, he played the substitute emperor in public ceremonies, he was staff manager and coordinator, a sheriff maintaining law and order in the province, he was a dogged negotiator, reconciler, a (more or less impartial) referee, even acting as the chief cheerleader intent on boosting patriotic zeal among his officials and the population at large. In short, a great deal of flexibility was required for the job. The World War altered the relationships to certain actors markedly. About half the population left the region and emigrated to Italy, fled from the war, were evacuated to the hinterland, or served in the military. The introduction of war absolutism effectively shifted power from elected representatives and their staffs to the state administration and the military. Even if the ­changing political climate in 1917 forced Governor Fries-Skene to seek closer co-­ operation with those political parties and groups in civil society which had survived the waves of repression at the beginning of the war, the self-governing institutions never regained their key position in political life until the end of the Habsburg Monarchy. The war also forced Fries-Skene to co-operate closely with military commanders in the region. Military and civilian authorities clashed frequently over questions of domestic policy but even more so over the distribution of the scarce foodstuffs. After a short period of cautious optimism in 1917, the state ultimately failed to provide its citizens with the most basic of goods: food and fuel. The hunger crisis contributed significantly to the process of alienation of the citizenry from the Austrian state. In the end, the approach of the Italian army forced Fries-Skene to flee to Vienna on 31 October 1918, ending the period of over 500 years of Habsburg rule over Trieste.

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Research on Hungarian High Officials in the Dual Monarchy

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Research on Hungarian High Officials in the Dual Monarchy The Case of Transylvanian Lord-Lieutenants1 Judit Pál After a long period of time in which this important issue has been neglected, the recent years brought about an intensification of the research on the Dual Monarchy’s administration and civil servants. Alongside the dynasty and the army, the bureaucracy was considered even by contemporaries and the historiography as one of the most important binders of the multiethnic empire. Recent works on this topic have provided researchers both with new arguments and fresh approaches to the subject.2 However, all these recent studies focus exclusively or mostly on the western part of the monarchy. Thus one question arises: can we generalise these conclusions, was the situation identical in Hungary? In order to answer this question, we must consider several elements: the administration’s structure and manner of functioning, the plans for its restructuring and modernisation conceived at the beginning of the 20th century, as well as the personnel pertaining to both central and local administration. In what follows, I will briefly present the topic’s historiography, highlighting that, on the one hand, for Hungary there exist no large-scale studies similar to the other part of the monarchy, and that, on the other hand, the studies related to the theme were published mostly in Hungarian. This explains why even in recent studies authored by non-Hungarian researchers, Transleithania is either ignored or one can often stumble on the old clichés. Primarily because only few empirical studies are available, it is very difficult to formulate new theses or to draw comparisons with Cisleithania and even more so to address

1

2

This study was financed by the Romanian Research Fund CNCS-UEFISCDI, research project PN-III-P4-ID-PCE-2016-0390, Change and Continuity: the public administration and the civil servants’ corps from Transylvania before and after the First World War (1910−1925). See Heindl 2013b; Lindström 2008; Deak 2015.

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new topics, such as the relationship between administration and civil society or possible reciprocal influences between the two parts of the Monarchy. Aware of these shortcomings, more than a decade ago, I began to study the political and administrative elites of Transylvania, a province that completely lost its autonomy as a result of the 1867 Compromise. After several studies on the members of parliament and the parliamentary elections of the Dualist Period, I returned to the old subject and began a detailed analysis of the corps of lord-lieutenants (főispán). They constituted the top layer of the mid-level bureaucratic elite and played a central role in the administrative uniformization process after the Compromise, but also, in a more general sense, in the process of state and nation building. In a first stage, I have conducted research on the ethnic, confessional and socio-professional composition of the lord-lieutenants’ corps, as well as on their family background, career paths and local ties, and subsequently I have investigated the existing networks between members of the political-administrative elite. Such analyses are necessary in order to draw a clearer picture of this elite group which concentrated, at the county (Komitat, vármegye) level, an ever increasing power and which represented the main link between the government and county-level civil servants. My research endeavours sought answers to such questions as: to what extent did the old elite retain power until the end of the Dualist Period and what was the part played by the aristocracy? Did signi­ ficant changes occur in the composition of the administrative elite during the researched period? To what extent were the lord-lieutenants tied to the local environment? Do any significant differences between Transylvanian lord-lieutenants and those from the rest of Hungary exist? My intention was to verify the thesis according to which members of the aristocracy and gentry preserved their political power until the 20th century, so that the political-administrative elite remained practically unchanged. For Transylvania, my hypothesis was that although the province lost its ­autonomy after 1867, at the county level the power was retained by the Hungarian and Saxon local elites. A clear outline of this group will help us to further investigate how they have exercised their power, their role perception, their lifestyle, their mentality, their identity, as well as a number of other aspects related to administrative practices. Historiographical review Research on the administrative elite of 19th century Hungary has less tradition and fewer results than research on other elite groups. Over recent decades, several comprehensive studies have been written on the economic, military and church elites, as well as on the deputies of the Hungarian parlia-

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ment,3 yet as far as the administrative elite is concerned, only a few studies have been published on short periods, small groups or civil servants in a specific region. Officials of the central government bodies have been presented primarily in the research conducted by Éva Somogyi and Gábor Benedek. The former studied Hungarian officials of the Austro-Hungarian common ministries and the diplomatic corps. In several essays, she analyzed their professionalism, the formation of their national identity, their marital patterns, etc.4 The ­latter studied the officials of the neo-absolutist era and analyzed the group of ­ministers, state secretaries and highest officials in the ministries of the Dualist period. The Austro-Hungarian Compromise did not include a complete change in the administrative elite, so that in 1867 the percentage of civil servants retaining their former positions came to over 40%. Although this percentage had declined somewhat by the end of the following decade, it can still be observed that a significant percentage of the new officials serving after 1867 – originating mainly from the gentry – resigned from their positions within a few years. The majority of permanent officials had bureaucratic traditions running through their families, even in the case of the officials with noble origins: in 40% of these cases, the father had served in the central administration, while in another 26% the father held a county office. Self-recruitment was very high in the group of university trained officials (60% of university graduates belonged to this category). Most of them were of noble descent, but the proportion showed a decreasing trend: in 1890, 57% of the officials of the Prime Minister’s Office, the Ministry of the Interior, the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Commerce were of noble origin, while only 46% came from this category in 1910. At the turn of the century, career advancement was determined not by origin, but by training, time served and performance.5 Other important research on the county administration has been conducted by József Pap, István Kajtár, Magdolna Balázs and András Cieger. Data on the civil servants of the local public administration during the neo-absolutist years has been handled by Pap. Using several counties as examples, he has convincingly presented the weak points of the myth of the so-called ‘passive resistance’.6 Although a large number of civil servants moved to Hungary from other parts of the monarchy during these years, most of the 3 See 4 5 6

Pál 2014. Somogyi 2010, 2011. Benedek 1986, 2006, 2010. See also Deák 2000.

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medium-ranking civil servants were still of Hungarian origin. Indeed, a significant portion of the impoverished landed nobility, the so-called gentry, needed the positions to secure an income. They often held posts not in the region where they owned land, since that would have been humiliating, but further away. Although a significant number of senior officials, mainly the financial experts, were indeed of foreign origin (many came from Bohemia, Moravia, Galicia and Bukovina), the percentage of Hungarian officials was relatively high, and most of the medium-ranking civil servants were still Hungarians.7 A radical change in elites occurred after the October Diploma (1860). Kajtár, a legal historian, has studied continuity in 34 counties. His results show that only 4.5% of the senior county officials serving in 1861 had already been in office during the period of neo-absolutism. During the so-called ­Provisorium (provisional administration 1861/62−1867), approximately a quarter of the officials retained their offices, whereas only 8% of the officials of the Provisorium still held office in 1867.8 However, there is no comprehensive work on local civil servants in the Dualist period and, if we do not take the archontologies created for several counties and for far longer periods into consideration,9 the lack of research will become much clearer. The only country-wide study on lord-lieutenants, deputy lord-lieutenants and mayors has remained a torso.10 Balázs presented the development of the main indicators using samples taken every ten years and the local ties of the lord-lieutenants, attempting to define various types. Her research also confirms the fact that in Hungary public administration and politics had very close ties, although it is only partially true of parliamentary deputies that “careers in public administration were almost exclusively the socially accepted course to the field of politics.”11 I will revisit Balázs’s results when presenting the outcomes of my own research. Besides Balázs’ comprehensive study on the lord-lieutenants of the period of the Dual Monarchy, several studies on the structure and relations of the medium-ranking administrative elite of the north-eastern region, now mainly belonging to Ukraine, have been published by Cieger and on Transylvanian civil servants and lord-lieutenants by the author of this paper.12 Cieger mapped the social origins, careers and political conduct of the local elite 7

Pap 2003. Abstract in English: Pap 2007. Kajtár 1992. 9 E.g. Molnár 2000. 10 Balázs 1986. 11 Balázs 1986, 123. 12 Pál 2007, 2008. 8

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in a prosopographic study of lord-lieutenants, deputy lord-lieutenants and deputies of the respective region. While lord-lieutenants had ­ municipal careers or had earlier served for lengthy periods as civil servants in the county administration, only in exceptional cases did this represent for d­ eputy lord-lieutenants – with few exceptions – the zeniths of their careers after a long road. A significant percentage of the lord-lieutenants and ­deputy lord-­ lieutenants were also elected as deputies during their time in office. Members of the administrative and political elite were also members of the supervisory or executive boards of various enterprises, railway companies and banks, albeit not during the period while holding office in public a­ dministration.13 Very important is also research on the largest tax-payers (the so-called virilists), a phenomenon typical for Hungary in the era of the Dual Monarchy. The virilis system was introduced in 1870/71 (Law 1870:XLII and 1871:XVIII). Half of the representatives of the counties and larger towns came from this group of the main tax-payers. The system highly favored both the economic elite and the intellectuals, for the taxes paid by those with university degrees counted double. Károly Vörös mainly investigated the virilists from Budapest.14 When we look at the trends, it can be seen that at the turn of the century the sum considered as the basis for taxation and qualifying a person as a virilist was raised significantly. As a consequence, the occupational structure of the virilists also changed: by the end of the period, craftsmen had completely dropped out, but even commerce strongly declined. Over the entire period, the number of people earning income from real estate and rent continued to be large, but, apart from them, the group of intellectuals in the free professions, mostly lawyers, also grew. Fluctuation was also high among the new economic elite; the most stable positions were held by those owning real estate, construction companies and with intellectual occupations, and – by the turn of the century – also by the manufacturing industry and large trading companies. A stable nucleus formed that played an important role not only in urban administration, but also in national economic, social and political life. While there are also studies of the virilists in the counties, no summary of the results exists up to now. György Feiszt and László Kosján have shown that there was a change in the structure of the county virilists prior to the outbreak of the First World War. In the north-western and western parts of Hungary, large landowners gradually lost significance before the war (but never fell below 50%), and their place was

13 14

For a summary of his research, see Cieger 2014. Vörös 1979.

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taken by entrepreneurs, urban landlords, tradesmen, factory owners, intellectuals and upper level employees in private industry (Privatbeamte).15 As far as the stability of the heads of urban local administration is concerned, only a few towns have been studied in this respect. It seems that they better managed to survive the political changes of the mid-19th century; the personnel continuity of these civil servants was far greater than that of the heads of county administrations. According to the results of research on five towns (Pest, Győr, Debrecen, Szeged and Pécs), it can be stated that a third of the members of the local councils had also held these positions in 1848.16 In 1849, half of the council members changed. When in 1861 a completely new system was introduced, nevertheless only 13% of the officials of 33 free Royal towns had to resign from their offices. The Provisorium rearranged the hierarchy of urban public administration once more, yet, after the Compromise, a third of the civil servants retained their posts. Compared with 1867, in 1872/73 the continuity was 62% in municipal towns, whereas this proportion was only 47% in the case of the heads of county administrations. In the following period, stability was even greater, as high as 80% in some towns, which meant that a civil servant’s career was interrupted only either by retirement or demise. The career advancement opportunities of the urban elite were quite ­limited and usually did not go beyond the local level. Mayors usually reached the zeniths of their careers after lengthy duty in an office: 78.5% of them were aged between 41 and 50, and 14.3% above 50. A career in the county administration offered quicker opportunities for promotion. In most cases the office of mayor was the climax of a career. Unlike in Germany, only in exceptional cases could the heads of local administrations obtain an office in one of the central ministries. However, more frequently they were elected into the Hungarian parliament (in 1848/49 and the period between 1861 and 1892, 41 deputies were former mayors, while 161 deputies were former deputy lord-lieutenants). The number of elevations to the nobility was low: in the Dualist period, 36 urban officials were awarded noble titles, and only six of them were mayors.17 Legal status of the lord-lieutenants Compared to the Cisleithanian (the “Austrian” half of the Monarchy) politische Bezirke, Hungarian Komitate had far greater, although gradually 15

Feiszt & Kosján 1995. Kajtár 1992, 152–155. 17 Kajtár 1992, 156−158. 16

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diminishing authority; among other things, they could elect their own senior civil servants, including the head of the county administration, the deputy lord-lieutenant (alispán). Lord-lieutenants were appointed by the monarch on the proposal by the Hungarian government; their main duty was to control the way the county functioned, i.e. they were the extended arms of the government. After the Austro-Hungarian Compromise, small discrepancies between the Transylvanian and Hungarian public administration were eliminated within a couple of years. However, in the Dualist period the Hungarian public administration was reorganized several times, and these changes also affected the competence of lord-lieutenants. Public administration and the justice system were separated in 1869, which implied that the deputy lord-lieutenants no longer functioned as judges, while the counties’ administrative affairs were concentrated in their hands. The following year, the public administration underwent major changes (Law 1870:XLII), increasing the competences for lord-lieutenants – a trend that continued over the coming years. The main competence of the lord-lieutenants was to control the county administration and to ensure that government policy was enforced; they had the right to nominate the county civil servants, and to suspend them. They also functioned as presidents of the main body of the public administration, the county general assembly – where membership was partially obtained by election and partially awarded to the largest tax-payers (the virilists). As a result of the major territorial changes in public administration in Transylvania in 1876, the separate Saxon and Szekler seats were abolished, and the boundaries of the counties were significantly modified.18 Also, administrative committees were formed in the counties. The new institutions co-ordinated the activities of various branches of public administration, i.e. the municipality and the different state agencies (e.g. the tax office). These committees were also presided over by the lord-lieutenants, whose influence became even stronger especially because of the disciplinary cases referred to the authority of the committee. The administrative committee also had 18

In the medieval and premodern period the three privileged nations in Transylvania (Hungarians, Saxons and Szeklers) also divided power between themselves in territorial terms: the counties, the “Royal Land” of the Saxons (consisting of seven seats and two regions), and the five seats of the Szeklerland. The regions of Fogaras and Naszód, the latter created in 1861 from the villages of the former Second Romanian Border Regiment, had a predominantly Romanian population. Law XXXIII:1876, regulating the administrative division of the territory, introduced substantial changes. The regions and seats were abolished, and the whole territory of historical Transylvania was divided into fifteen counties. This reorganization was considered unfair especially by the Saxons and partly by the Romanians, too. See Pál 2010.

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the power to annul resolutions of the county’s general assembly it considered illegal, but it needed the approval of the respective minister. A decade later, the competences of the lord-lieutenants became even broader (Law 1886:XXI). They also became chief executive officers of the state agencies functioning on the territory of their county and, in cases when the “pressing interest” of the state were at stake, they had the power to issue decrees without consultation of the county administrative body. The law also expanded the competences of the Minister of the Interior, who could supervise the activities (procurement, finances, etc.) of the municipalities any time. Also the position of the secretary to the lord-lieutenant was created. The secretary assisted the lord-lieutenant and was appointed by the Minister of the Interior. A bill introduced in 1913 crowned the attempts to centralize the county government, but the outbreak of the war took it off the agenda and after a short while wartime administration was introduced.19 Many contemporaries criticized these tendencies to ‘standardize’ public administration. As early as in 1880, they lamented about the lord-lieutenant acting “like the supervisor of servants in a large household, and the officials – poor souls – are like servants.”20 Until the 1885 reform, lord-lieutenants were also members of the upper house of the Hungarian parliament due to their position. Lord-lieutenants were appointed for an unspecified period by the king on the proposal of the government, but it became customary that if the government resigned, so did the lord-lieutenants, or at least they offered their resignations. Research on Transylvanian lord-lieutenants In the course of my research, I studied with prosopographic methods to what extent the Hungarian political elite managed to keep their positions during the changes in the aftermath of 1848, to what extent the aristocracy continued to dominate and what a typical lord-lieutenant’s career looked like. Of special importance were the local connections of the lord-lieutenants (personal and family background and ties to the county of service) and the family networks of the administrative and political elite. In this paper, I will present some of the results of this research, e.g. the social background and local ties of lord-lieutenants. As far as the sources for this research are concerned, difficulties already appear on the simple attempt to draw up a list of all lord-lieutenants, since the various calendars and directories of officials are incomplete, especially at the beginning of the period under discussion, and often cannot keep up 19 20

Kozári 2005, 202−262. Quoted by Cieger 1997, 266.

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with the changes. The directories of civil servants contain no data on the appointment and resignation of a lord-lieutenant.21 In the years of political turmoil in 1905/06, the tenure of some lord-lieutenants was very short, and these frequent changes are not reflected in the annually published lists. This basic data could be collected from the respective documents of the ­Ministry of the Interior and the Council of Ministers in the Hungarian National Archives22 and the Kabinettskanzlei at the Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv in Vienna. In some cases, appointment documents also contain biographical data and the main stages in the career of the future lord-lieutenant. However, in the case of mass appointments these additional data do not appear in these documents. For the biographical data, obituaries,23 various biographic encyclopedias, parliamentary almanacs, genealogical works, school yearbooks, volumes containing information about local and foreign students (László Szögi and his collaborators have published numerous such volumes) and local newspapers proved to be useful.24 To determine the social and religious role played by lord-lieutenants, publications and directories by various organizations and newspaper articles were helpful, and further archival studies were necessary. The financial situation of lord-lieutenants can only be estimated, but the lists of landowners, the compasses publishing the members of the boards of executives and directors of various companies and the lists of virilists (largest tax-payers) were useful. The data on real estate is only available at the end of the 19th century and for properties larger than 100 acres.25 There is no published register on other movable and real estate. The list of the largest tax-payers was usually published periodically by the local newspapers. But 21 22

23

24

25

Magyarország tiszti czím- és névtára [Hungarian officials’ names and contact list]; Hofund Staats-Handbuch. Magyar Nemzeti Leváltár Országos Levéltár (MNL OL) [Hungarian National Archive, State Archive], Belügyminisztérium, Elnöki iratok [Ministry of the Interior, P ­ residential Documents], K 148, and Általános iratok [General Documents], K 150; Miniszterelnökség [Records of the Prime Minister’s Office], K 26; Minisztertanácsi jegyzőkönyvek [Council of Ministers], K 27. https://familysearch.org/search/collection/1542666. Hungary Funeral Notices, 1840– 1990, containing the digital copies of the collection from the Széchényi National Library in Budapest. A large collection of funeral announcements is also preserved at the Servi­ ciul Judeţean Cluj al Arhivelor Naţionale Române [Romanian National Archives, Department Cluj] Necrologuri [Obituaries]. Some examples: Nagy 1857−1868; Kempelen 1911–1932; Újvári 1929; Gudenus 1990− 2000; Szinnyei 1891–1914; Myss 1993; Szögi 1994; Szabó & Szögi 1998; Simon & Szögi 2014; Toth 1973. A magyar korona országainak mezőgazdasági statisztikája 1897.

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since the virilists were taxed according to different criteria with different rates, their wealth and income cannot be calculated from the amount of tax paid. This data can only give an impression of their financial status and their position within the municipality. There were a total of 123 lord-lieutenants in Transylvania in the Dualist period before the First World War, not including the royal judges of the Saxon seats prior to the territorial reorganization in 1876.26 As has already been mentioned, Balázs studied the Hungarian lord-lieutenants over various time segments. I have partially adjusted my own research to her time-frame, so that the results can be compared. Yet, in the years Balázs selected for her research, there are cases where there are several lord-lieutenants in one county (new appointments after resignation, retirement or death) or where one lord-lieutenant was in charge of several counties. The average age of lord-lieutenants was around 50, and most of them were appointed in their 40s or 50s. While after every major political change the body of lord-lieutenants was rejuvenated, they were usually appointed around the age of 40 and in the various periods the medium age was around 50. The average time they served was six years, but whereas there were many long-serving lord-lieutenants after the Compromise, the turmoil of domestic politics reduced their term of duty at the beginning of the 20th century. One of the topoi of Hungarian historiography is the great role played by the landed gentry and the aristocracy in the political life of the Dualist period. Research on the group of lord-lieutenants fully confirms this topos. One of my earlier articles discussed the lord-lieutenants from Transylvania at the time of the Compromise.27 It concluded that, despite the structural changes of the mid-19th century, the pre-1848 elite managed to survive. However, in 1861 there was a change insofar as the compromised civil service, often of foreign origin, from the period of neo-absolutism was marginalized, and a new group – the former liberal opposition – came to power in parallel to the reinstatement of the old administrative divisions. This new group, nevertheless, had similar family backgrounds to the pre-1848 political elite, to whom they often had personal or family bonds.

26

When speaking about Transylvania, I refer only to the historical province, leaving aside the Banat and the so-called Partium (the counties from today’s western Romania). 27 Pál 2008.

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Although the percentage of aristocrats changed,28 it was quite significant at the end of the period under study and was usually higher than the average in Hungary. Balázs concluded that almost all Hungarian lord-lieutenants came from the old nobility and one third were aristocrats. In the case of the elected officials with the most senior rank, the deputy lord-lieutenants, this portion was merely 1.3%, and there were no aristocrats among the mayors. The difference also appears in the fact that 73.2% of the lord-lieutenants and 55% of the deputy lord-lieutenants had estates larger than 100 acres. The chart below shows the changes in the percentages of aristocrats among Transylvanian lord-lieutenants:

Even though the percentage of aristocrats temporarily decreased in 1879 as a consequence of the party fusion of 1875 – when the governing and the largest opposition parties merged – by 1891 they were a majority again: of 19 lord-lieutenants, ten were aristocrats and another three had close kinship ties to aristocratic families (so-called “half-magnates”). With the exception of the Saxon Gustav Thälmann, all came from families of the landed nobility. One year earlier, the situation had been even more interesting: of 15 counties, 28

See Judit Pál, Die politische Rolle der siebenbürgischen Aristokratie vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg. Unpublished paper presented at the conference Altösterreichischer Adel zwischen Nation – Nationalismus – Faschismus/Nationalsozialismus (von ca. 1870–1938/1945), Vienna, 3–5 December 2014.

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in five the lord-lieutenant was a member of the Bethlen family of counts. At the turn of the century, the percentage was again lower, but in 1910 the number of lord-lieutenants of aristocratic origin increased throughout the country. This is also true of Transylvania, where of 15 lord-lieutenants, seven were aristocrats. So, it can be concluded that throughout this period one half to one third of the lord-lieutenants hailed from aristocratic families. When “half-magnates” are also taken into account, the percentage becomes even higher. With the exception of those from Saxon origin, all lord-lieutenants held a noble title. Moreover, most of them came from families whose members had been county officials for generations. The ethnic composition of the lord-lieutenants soon homogenized after an initial variety. After Kálmán Tisza came to office – he was the longeststanding prime minister (1875−1890) of the Dualist period – and after the administrative reform in Transylvania in 1876, senior officials of Romanian origin disappeared and the number of those of Saxon origin was reduced. The territorial reform abolished the Saxon seats and the two Romanian regions Fogaras (Făgăraș) and Naszód (Năsăud), and Tisza mainly appointed civil servants of Hungarian origin also to the counties with predominantly Romanian or Saxon populations. While in 1867, two Romanian lord-lieutenants retained their positions and almost all Saxon seats were run by Saxon officials, in 1879 there was only one Saxon lord-lieutenant left, while all the others were Hungarians. This ethnic composition remained unchanged for the following decades: every lord-lieutenant was Hungarian except for the one “honorary Saxon”. As regards confession, the picture is somewhat more varied. There was a balance between Catholics and Protestants,29 while after the first decade of the Dualist period Greek Catholics disappeared from among the lord-lieutenants appointed, along with the Romanians. As to their education, it can be observed that for the initial generations there was no need to have a university education to embark on the career of a senior civil servant. It was enough, but also necessary, to graduate from one of the confessional gymnasia with long traditions (including legal courses), followed by a law apprenticeship at the High Court of Justice of Transylvania at Marosvásárhely (Târgu Mureș) and a lawyer’s exam. Law 1883:I aimed to put an end to “amateur administration” and made legal studies at the university level compulsory to hold certain positions in the public administration. The entire period – and not only in Transylvania – is characterized by

29

Most of the Hungarian senior officials were either Catholics or members of the Reformed Church, but there were also one or two Unitarians, whereas the Saxons were Lutherans.

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the “rule of lawyers”.30 Anyone aiming at a career in public administration was expected to hold a law degree. Towards the turn of the century, it was more and more common for prospective lord-lieutenants to take university courses, usually in Budapest, but also at the university of Kolozsvár (Cluj), founded in 1872, or in Vienna or other foreign universities, and there was an increasing number of senior officials who had earned doctorate degrees in political science. On the question to what extent lord-lieutenants had local ties, Balázs divided the subjects of her study into four categories according to place of birth, estates, career in public administration and family and other ties. Country-wide, the total percentage of the qualifications of lord-lieutenants as positions congruent (i.e. “having close ties to the region”) and positions convergent (i.e. “having ties also to other regions”) is 67.7%. The vast majority of deputy lord-lieutenants and mayors were allocated to the positions congruent category. Furthermore, in the case of lord-lieutenants, the percentage of divergents and incongruents rose constantly until the turn of the century, and by 1900 almost half of the lord-lieutenants belonged to these categories (49.3%), while by 1911 this percentage had dropped to less than one third (29%).31 According to Balázs, Transylvania had the highest percentage of lord-lieutenants without local ties, and this was true especially in counties with an ethnic Romanian and/or Saxon majority. She concluded that the explanation for this phenomenon – apart from the intention to centralize public administration, to strengthen tendencies “to serve the government’s interests, to specialize and promote a professional career in public administration” – was the so-called nationality question.32 However, several factors need to be taken into consideration when answering this question. Usually, place of birth, family ties, estates and the places of offices held are investigated in order to establish local ties. Yet, the place of birth is not relevant in many cases (e.g. for families who either possessed estates in several counties or regularly spent the winter seasons in Kolozsvár). The same is true of family ties, since they can be extended to half of Transylvania in many instances. Another factor to be taken into consideration is that some of the counties concerned (Brassó, Szeben, ­Beszterce-Naszód, Fogaras) had such a structure of estates that most of the land was commonly owned (by communities, the Saxon University, former border regiments, etc.) and there were practically no or very few privately 30 See Adlgasser

2014b. Balázs 1986. 32 Balázs 1986, 121. 31

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held estates, so that it would have been difficult to appoint an estate owner from these counties as the lord-lieutenant. Furthermore, during the 19th century the tendency was usually to appoint a respectable landlord from the region as lord-lieutenant. Variations of the same elements can be observed in the reasoning behind appointments even until the end of the World War. To give an example, a nomination proposal for a lord-lieutenant’s position of 1917 listed “practical knowledge of public administration, excellent personal abilities, distinguished family and social ties, independent financial status, complete trustworthiness in politics and good sense in leading and handling public life” as the reassurances that the appointee would be successful as a lord-lieutenant.33 Good social relations and an independent financial situation were stated in almost all recommendations, showing what the “archetype” of the lord-lieutenant was in the eyes of the government over the entire period. Some trends can be traced, bearing the above-mentioned facts in mind. During the Dualist period, most of the lord-lieutenants had local ties. In 1879, half of them had strong bonds to their county of service, but neither were the other half complete “strangers”: some owned estates, and others had family ties to the municipalities where they served. Indeed, there were only three instances where complete strangers were appointed; in two cases the respective senior officials probably needed to be removed or rewarded, and in one case there was probably political motivation behind the appointment. As we proceed in time, local ties became less and less of a criterion, but most lord-lieutenants continued to have ties to the county of service or at least the region they served in. In 1900, lord-lieutenants with no or only loose ties to their county of service became the majority. They were usually appointed to the counties with Saxon or Romanian majorities, but in most cases they came from a neighbouring county, so the municipality to which they had been appointed was not entirely unfamiliar to them. It was typical to appoint individuals who were not complete strangers, if not from the respective county, then at least from Transylvania. In the first decade of the 20th century, amidst the political turmoil of 1905/06, the number of complete strangers appointed as senior civil servants was significantly higher, and some of them did not even have ties to Transylvania. The non-parliamentary Fejérváry government, which was appointed in 1905, did not replace the lord-lieutenants in office, but some of them resigned, especially after the initiation of the movement against the govern33

MNL OL (see footnote 22), K 148-1917-11-17404. Proposal regarding the appointment of Deputy Béla Barabás as lord-lieutenant for the town of Arad, 14 June 1917.

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ment in the summer of the same year. The so-called “national opposition” also spread throughout the counties, where “committees for the defence of the constitution” were formed. The situation became increasingly tense, also anticipated by the brutal beating of the newly appointed lord-lieutenant in Debrecen at the beginning of January 1906.34 Finally, in April, a new parliamentary coalition came to power, and the Liberal Party (Szabadelvű Párt), which had ruled the country for decades, was dissolved. At the time of the Wekerle government (1906–1910), there were radical changes at the top ­levels of the counties. At first, the new civil service included larger numbers of non-Transylvanians. However, the coalition was short-lived, and its dissolution and downfall soon ensued. In the meantime, István Tisza had founded the National Party of Work (Nemzeti Munkapárt) from former members of the Liberal Party and won the 1910 elections. This also meant the return of the old elite, although traces of the former coalition regime did not disappear entirely. The magnitude of the changes is revealed by the fact that lord-lieutenants were replaced in twelve of the fifteen counties of Transylvania in 1905/06, and again in 1910, while there were only two counties in which they remained in office over the whole period.35 By 1910, everything had gone back to the usual routine, although the practice of appointing strangers to some of the ethnically sensitive or difficult counties continued. In this period, we can find two lord-lieutenants who were not Transylvanians, yet one of them had started his career in public administration in Transylvania. Five lord-lieutenants owned estates in a neighbouring county and six had estates in their county of service. Whereas we already find an increasing number of parliamentarians without any local ties during the first elections after the Compromise, it seems that, in the case of lord-lieutenants, local ties remained important until the beginning of the 20th century. Throughout Hungary, being appointed lord-lieutenant in most cases meant the zenith of one’s career (in the case of a typical career path). Instances when a person rose above this office were as rare as occasions when someone was appointed from a higher position. 10.4% of all lord-lieutenants were later on appointed to a position in one of the ministries. There were two main career types. In the case of a career in the municipal system, one was appointed as lord-lieutenant after a lengthy stint in public administration, a situation specific to half of the lord-lieutenants appointed in Hungary. In the case of a political career – which was chosen by 44.8% of the future lord-lieutenants – 34 35

Hanák 1978, 600. Pál 2007.

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individuals were appointed to this position without having held any previous position in the public administration, or maybe just a position in the state apparatus.36 The regional studies by Cieger show that in the three counties he studied, lord-lieutenants spent an average of three to six years in public administration before being appointed and stayed in office for five to six years, while deputy lord-lieutenants sometimes spent even a decade in public administration before their appointments, and retained their new positions for eight to nine years.37 The beginning and the end of the Tisza era 1875 to 1890 also meant that the administrative elite partially changed. Its end marked also the end of an era of political stability, during which the fluctuation of lord-lieutenants was low. At the beginning of the 20th century, two types of careers were again typical: individuals who were appointed after a lengthy career in p­ ublic administration and individuals “predestined” for this position by their birth without any antecedents or after careers as deputies in parliament. Aristocrats belonged to the latter group, although those owning large estates, for whom a position in the state administration was not so much a career, but rather a “noble passion”, gradually became less important. But we can also find some aristocrats building up their careers in public administration step by step. In their case the noble ancestry was an asset and they were appointed to the position of lord-lieutenant at a younger age. This phenomenon clearly shows the great importance of family connections. Large intertwined families created Transylvania-wide networks – mainly in the case of the aristocrats – and these networks were a specific trait of the entire period, even if their role was not equally important at all times. This means that this caste was very homogenous. Most lord-lieutenants had some connection to one of the great family networks, and sometimes the observer gains the impression that the Transylvanian public administration was dominated by one huge family network, not only in the period under consideration, but for much longer, for members of these families had held principal positions in the state and county administrations also in the 17th and 18th centuries. The situation was unchanged at the beginning of the 20th century. The role of family ties was less important in the case of people who gradually climbed the administrative ladder. But some of them were also members of the old landed gentry who had held positions in the county administration for centuries.

36 37

Balázs 1986. Cieger 2004, 301.

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Family networks were very large, both vertically and horizontally. As a consequence, the self-recruitment of this caste was also quite frequent, transfer of the positions often occurring literally within the family (e.g. the cases of György Kemény and his son, Kálmán, Dániel Bánffy and his son, Dezső, Mihály Mikó and his son, Árpád or Antal Mikó and his son, Bálint). In the Dualist period, we can find three generations. The “fathers” of the Compromise of 1867 were succeeded in their positions by their sons in the 1890s. In 1891, for example, there were six lord-lieutenants whose fathers had also held this position. And by 1910, the grandsons also appeared next to the sons. In my further research, I intend to establish the entire family network of the lord-lieutenants of the Dualist period, including deputies and incumbents of other important positions. Instead of a conclusion Significant differences between the mid-level administrations in the two parts of the Monarchy have always existed and were further perpetuated after the Compromise. While in Hungary the county constituted the basis of autonomous administration, in Cisleithania, the principle of autonomy, despite gaining ground after 1848 at the level of the local administration, prevailed only at the provincial level and not at the intermediate layers.38 Under these circumstances, a comparative approach is difficult, because a Hungarian lord-lieutenant was very different from an Austrian Bezirkshauptmann both in the scope of their attributions and the prestige of the office. At the beginning of the 20th century, the reform plan of Austrian Prime Minister Ernest von Koerber (1904) included the introduction of a new administrative level between province and county (politischer Bezirk), the district (Kreis), where autonomous and state-appointed officials, as well as an elected assembly, would have functioned under the authority of a head appointed by the government. In this manner, Koerber hoped to depoliticise the mid-level administration and to renew the links between the state and the local population, but this plan never materialized.39 We do not know to what extent these administrative reform plans were echoed in Hungary, but increased simplification and efficiency of civil service were also constant slogans for both government and opposition parties. Despite a very pronounced centralisation tendency, in Hungary most of the county-level offices remained elective until

38 39

Lehner 1992, 220−223; Klabouch 1968, 278–279. Lindström 2008, 55–57. See also the earlier plans by Count Stadion, discussed in this volume by John Deak, 268–269.

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the end of the researched period, including the deputy lord-lieutenant, who was the head of the county’s entire civil service apparatus. My preliminary findings partly nuance, but in principle confirm the ­thesis of the old elite’s survival. In any case, research needs to be continued, because the corps of lord-lieutenants may have been the most conservative group of the administration. Due to the social prestige associated with the office, members of the traditional local elite held an advantage in appointment. Virilism, as well as the tendency to maintain Hungarian supremacy, also accentuated the conservative features of the administration. However, beyond this seeming immobility, we also need to investigate the slow changes that took place between the mid-19th century and the beginning of the 20th century. For the lord-lieutenants we can notice, on the one hand, the introduction of compulsory university studies following the 1883 law and, on the other hand, the fact that the bureaucratic weight of this office constantly increased at the expense of its prestige. To summarize the results of my research so far: At the level of the lord-lieutenants, the Hungarian elite in Transylvania managed to keep their positions after 1848 and throughout the Dualist period. With few exceptions, members of the old elite continued to run the public administration of the Transylvanian counties, bound by close family ties. It seems that they formed a separate sub-system, which related to and depended on the politics in Budapest, but formed a separate group to their colleagues in Hungary proper.

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A Prosopographical Survey of the High Civil Service Corps of the Ministries in the Hungarian Part of the Dual Monarchy Julia Bavouzet This essay offers some preliminary results of an on-going prosopographic study of the High Civil Service Corps in the central ministries of Budapest1 in the period 1890–1910, with special interest in the ambivalent change in the Hungarian governing elite. At this time, ministerial Konzeptsbeamte, judicially trained civil servants, are at the head of an expanding central administration, which is gradually overtaking the duties of the counties and municipalities, by active centralization politics and homogenization of the different levels of administration. A modern and efficient central bureaucracy, far from being backward,2 is emerging in Budapest, based on a more than hundred-year-old tradition of Josephinism perpetuated through the dicasteria … and yet, nobility is still ruling the state administration. Thereby the High Civil Service Corps embodies par excellence the general trend that 1

2

In 1890, the central administration of Transleithania was constituted by the Office of the Prime Minister, the Ministry of His Majesty (located in Vienna), and seven more ministries: Interior, Finance, Religious Affairs and Education, Justice, Defense, Commerce and Agriculture, the last two created in 1889 through the reorganization of the Ministry of Agriculture, Industry and Commerce and the Ministry for Public Works and Transport. In addition, the Croatian-Slavonian-Dalmatian Ministry dealt with the special relationship to the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia, but due to the particular activities and social composition of its personnel, this ministry is not part of this study. The theory of Hungary’s “backwardness” was elaborated at the beginning of the 1980s by Andrew C. Janos (Janos 1982), who illustrated the anachronism and lack of modernization of Hungarian society, economy and politics from the end of the 19th century on. Yet this theory, now assimilated to a Hungarian Sonderweg, is partly criticized in its theoretical basis, as it overlooks the deep evolutions that occurred in the second half of the 19th century. It is however useful to note that the idea of backwardness, of which contemporaries were aware of, is still rooted in many scholarly works and continues to orientate their results. This remark rejoins the conclusive essay of this volume by John Deak, criticizing the historiographical use of the term ‘bureaucratic absolutism’ referring to Habsburg bureaucracy, to spread the idea that Austria was an enemy of progress and an historical dead end. See 259–273.

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is reshaping Hungarian society, the conversion of a traditional feudal elite into a modern one based on the principle of merit (Leistungsprinzip) and on competency certified by a diploma. But it illustrates as well the limits of this conversion taking place. This paper proposes a quantitative approach to try to measure to what extent social status nevertheless remained critical to constituting this new modern elite, even as it is defined somewhat differently than the older one. Indeed, the older estates society, where birth and rank were decisive, evolves into a meritocratic society (Leistungsgesellschaft) but with interesting remnants of feudal forms in the emerging social order, which can be apprehended through the ministry personnel. Konzeptsbeamte of the ministries may have no direct interaction with the civil society, contrary to judges (see Martin Klečacký in this volume), provincial or regional administrators (see Judit Pál, Andrea Pokludová, and Marion Wullschleger in this volume), and of course local civil officials (teachers, postal or railway personnel, etc.); still, as Gary B. Cohen phrased it, they constitute the “public face of the state” and as such, deserve a special attention.3 Together with the dynasty and the army, the state bureaucracy represents the very pillar of the monarchy. High civil servants illustrate this portion of the population that, apart from civil society, can be called the ‘official elite’ and apprehended as relevant witnesses to specific changes that occurred during this period. And yet, very little scholarly interest on this subject can be detected: with the notable exceptions of Gábor Benedek’s work and more indirectly Eva Somogyi’s research on Hungarian leading officials in the common ministries, the Hungarian central administration is largely overlooked.4 On the contrary, it is the county administration that draws most of the scholarly ­interest, with a wide range of publications more or less emphasizing its role as ‘stronghold of the Constitution’ against Austrian absolutism – an interest that somehow reveals this “heavy national bias” weighing on the historiography of the successor states, mentioned by Fredrik Lindström in the introduction to this volume.5 This paper endeavors to remedy this histori3 4

5

See Cohen 54. Benedek 1990 and 2010; Somogyi 2002 and 2010. According to Judit Pál, it is the Hungarian administrative elite of the 19th century in general that is facing a lack of historiographical interest, as opposed to economic, military and church elite. And even among this administrative elite, the central bureaucracy is the most overlooked, as can be concluded from the bibliographical references she lists. See Pál’s contribution to this volume, pp. 149–166. From my own research about the Hungarian administration during the dualist era, I agree with Lindström’s statement on the differences between Austrian and Hungarian historio­ graphies regarding the subject of Habsburg administration (see Lindström’s contribution to this volume). Indeed, Hungarian scholars of the administration show little interest in

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ographical dearth as well as to propose further perspective of research on Hungarian ministry officials (Ministerialbeamte), especially regarding the input of quantitative methods (prosopography) in a field largely dominated by collective biographies or a focus on individual civil servants. According to the contemporary legislation, civil servants of the ministries were categorized hierarchically in eleven ranks (Rangsklassen, labelled with Roman numbers), associated with their position, salary and requisite competences.6 The top three ranks (Prime Minister, Ministers, State Secretaries) were reserved for political functionaries. Rank IV constitutes an exception, as it concerns members of the High Court; they do not appear in this study. This survey extends to the positions of ministerial councillor (MinisterialRat, miniszteri tanácsos, rank V), department councillor (Sektions-Rat, osztálytanácsos, rank VI), and ministerial secretary (Ministerial-Sekretär, miniszteri titkár, rank VII), as they form together the bureaucratic elite.7 From rank VI up, officials were nominated jointly by the minister and the king. In many ways, rank VI constitutes an implicit dividing line between the highest members of the administration and the other Konzeptsbeamte, as it was the threshold to being admitted to court or receiving the honorary distinctions of privy councillor (Geheimer Rat, v. b. titkos tanácsos) and chamberlain (Kämmerer, kamarás).8 Still, ministerial secretaries are included in the imperial legacy, with the notable exception of Somogyi’s work on the common imperial (gesamtstaatlichen) institutions and her involvement in the edition of Die Protokolle des gemeinsamen Ministerrates der österreichisch-ungarischen Monarchie 1867–1918. See Somogyi 1996. Hungarian historiography focuses exclusively on Hungarian history strictly speaking: counties administrated by the Magyar nobility, magyarization politics led by representatives of local authorities, and professionalization of several branches of technical administration (such as railways, post and telegraphs, mines, etc.), all paying attention to language and national issues. 6 See Corpus Juris Hungarici: Law 1893:IV on the salary of the state civil servants, lower officials and servants. This law concerns the personnel of the ministries, but not that of the counties. In spite of their repeated claims, county officials were not categorized in the same ranking system until 1904. An identical ranking system existed for Austria and the common ministries. The rank not only defined the salary, but also further privileges like subsidies for living quarters, heating or clothing, travel arrangements or the right to a professional uniform to be worn on specific occasions. The rank was crucial for status within the civil service and in society at large. 7 The top regional administrators, Lord Lieutenants (főispán, Obergespan) and Deputy Lord Lieutenants (alispán, Vizegespan) also belonged to the ranks V and VI, but are not included in this study. Lord Lieutenants represented the government’s authority in the counties. Like the ministerial officials of these ranks, they were directly appointed by the minister and the king. By contrast, Deputy Lord Lieutenants were elected by the counties, and officiated as the heads of the autonomous local administration. 8 See Gyáni & Kövér 2006.

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this study, as they were also directly appointed by the king9 and could hold leading functions such as department head (Sektions-Leiter, osztályvezető), which were in fact dissociated from the rank. Rank VII appears thus to constitute the real border between leading and executing positions. The study sample therefore consists of the 709 senior officials on duty between 1890 and 1910 in the nine Hungarian ministries mentioned above (Table 1). Their names, hierarchical positions and titles can be found in the volumes of the Hof- und Staats-Handbuch der österreichisch-ungarischen Monarchie,10 verified by the lists compiled by Vera Székely.11 These reference guides thus provide two major data, namely noble and academic titles, which will be the main variables the present statistical study proposes to measure. Further information was collected in various, mostly second-hand sources, like biographical lexica,12 university databases13 and registers,14 but also in funeral notices15 that provide valuable information on denomination and family connections – information that is otherwise difficult to access. Personnel records of civil servants, the so-called minősitési lapok or Dienst-Tabellen which would provide the same information but from a unique homogeneous source, are unfortunately unavailable, presumably destroyed during the multiple war episodes of the 20th century. 9 10

11

12

13

14

15

The joint nomination by minister and king also applied to ministerial secretaries, even if they were categorized in rank VII (at least until 1896). Iványi 1960, 531. For the purpose of this study, I used both the Austrian (Hof- und Staats-Handbuch) and the Hungarian version (Magyarország tiszti cim- és névtára). The Austrian version is more precise regarding the nobility of civil servants (lesser nobility is mentioned by the preposition “v.”), whereas noble predicates are not systematically listed in the Hungarian version. These reference guides also mention doctorates, J. Dr. or Dr. rer. pol. for Law or Political Sciences, M. Dr. or Chir. Dr. for Medicine or Surgery, Ph. Dr. for Philosophy and Th. Dr. for Theology. Engineers did not receive doctoral degrees before 1902, and therefore appear without academic degrees. The major value of this source is its annual publication, allowing to retrace year-by-year the structural composition of the Konzeptsdienst, as well as every individual career-path. See also Noflatscher 2007. Székely 1979–1985. Révai nagy lexikona 1911–1935; Szinnyei 1891–1914; Kenyeres 1967. “University databases realized under the direction of V. Karády and P. T. Nagy thanks to the international project ELITES08 of the European Research Council.” I would like to thank Prof. Viktor Karády who kindly allowed me to search these databases. The collection of Magyarországi diákok edited by László Szögi contains information about student registers of all Hungarian students in universities abroad. For this study, the following publications were consulted: Szögi & Kiss 2003; Szögi et al. 2014; Patyi et al. 2015. As for the use of student registers (matriculae) as a source for quantitative study, see Hadobás 2008. The Széchenyi National Library in Budapest holds more than half a million funeral ­notices from 1840–1990. The collection is digitalized at https://familysearch.org/search/ collection/1542666, Hungary Funeral Notices, 1840–1995.

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Table 1: Distribution of High Civil Servants, 1890–1900 rank VII

rank VI

rank V

Konzeptsdienst

1890

118

 92

42

405

1895

103

105

48

451

1900

112

111

53

520

1905

116

122

62

535

1910

132

147

85

538

State prestige and bureaucracy: a traditional elite Social composition of the Konzeptsdienst helps us enlighten the specificities of this elite in relation to the whole population as well as to other elite-groups. Since the admission of commoners in all administrative levels (1848), nobles were no longer the only group to embody state power. Yet state bureaucracy was still largely managed by the nobility. Did the senior officials as a group not symbolize par excellence an archetype of the traditional social elite, due to the functions and the social backgrounds of its members? A first approach to answer this question would be to consider the social composition of senior officials in the Konzeptsdienst regarding the proportion of nobility. Among the 709 senior officials of this survey, 466 (66%) possess a title of nobility whereas 243 (34%) are non-titled com­moners. As obvious as this result might be, raw statistics prove to be somehow misleading. First they do not show the real composition of the Konzeptsdienst at a specific time, but consider the group of senior officials recruited during a time-lapse of 20 years. And second, they do not take into account the seniority of the titles (Table 2).

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Table 2: Social composition of the Konzeptsdienst, 1890–191816 1890

1895

1900

1905

1910

1915

1918

Non-titled

35 %

38 %

41 %

41 %

39 %

45 %

46 %

Lesser nobility

61 %

58 %

56 %

55 %

58 %

52 %

51 %

  old nobility

52 %

48 %

44 %

44 %

45 %

38 %

37 %

  new nobles*

7 %

7 %

9 %

8 %

9 %

10 %

8 %

 ennobled

1 %

3 %

3 %

3 %

4 %

4 %

5 %

Aristocracy

4 %

4 %

3 %

4 %

4 %

2 %

4 %

  old aristocracy

3 %

3 %

2 %

4 %

3 %

1 %

1 %

  new aristocrats*

1 %

0 %

0 %

0 %

1 %

1 %

2 %

  ennobled in   the aristocracy

0 %

1 %

1 %

1 %

1 %

1 %

1 %

TOTAL

258

261

278

294

360

401

409

* The categories “new nobles” and “new aristocrats” refer to individuals whose father or grandfather had been ennobled. They thus inherited a recently acquired title of nobility. They need to be distinguished from the historic old nobility, whose titles date sometimes back to the 12th century.

The social composition of the Konzeptsdienst reveals a majority of nobles throughout the Hungarian Monarchy, even if it declined from 61% in 1890 to 51% in 1918. If we add the contingent of aristocrats to the lesser nobility, traditional order constituted undeniably more than half of the Konzeptsbeamte. This points out some specific differences with the Viennese bureaucracy, where the aristocracy was still more dominant (14% against 4% in Budapest), but also non-titled commoners were stronger represented (57% against 47% in Budapest).17 Yet this conclusion must be moderated if we consider the seniority of the titles of nobility. The various new groups of lesser ­nobility in Hungary formed a transitional stage between the older nobility and ­commoners, and should therefore not be considered at the same 16

In order to identify nobles and aristocrats with an acceptable degree of certainty, e­ very surname was checked in the volumes of Béla Kempelen’s register of noble families in Hungary. This register also provides information about the anciennity of these letters of nobility, and therefore allows to distinguish the old nobility from the new one. K ­ empelen 1911. As for the ennobled civil servants, names, titles and dates are drawn from ­Magyar Nemzeti Levéltár, Országos Levéltár [Hungarian National Archive, State Archive] A57, K19 – Libri Regii – Királyi könyvek 1527–1918 [Libri Regii – Royal Books 1527– 1918]. http://adatbazisokonline.hu/en/adatbazis/a-57_-k-19-libri-regii-%C2%B7-kiralyikonyvek-1527%E2%80%941918. 17 See in the following table the social composition of the high civil service corps in the ministries of Vienna and Budapest, 1900–1910:

A Prosopographical Survey of the High Civil Service Corps

173

level as the older nobility or the aristocracy. The historical order (old nobility along with old aristocracy) still accounted for more or less 60% until 1910, but this rate drastically declined to 38% during the First World War, as the proportion of commoners caught up with that of the nobility. This relative switch towards the middle classes becomes even clearer when we consider the large number of newly ennobled civil servants who obtained their title during their service. The proportion of more recently ennobled civil servants, the Beamtenadel, grew inside of the Konzeptsdienst (9–10% until 1900, and 15–16% during the war). We will pay special attention to this group in the following. As for non-titled commoners, their proportion rose by 5% at the turn of the century, and again 5% during the war. They might account only for 34% of all senior officials in duty between 1890 and 1910, but due to turnover in the ministry personnel they always exceeded this proportion in the Konzeptsdienst. Regarding these figures, the new trend can be seen even in the short timespan of twenty years: despite the high proportion of traditional orders, the Konzeptsdienst is effectively experiencing a gentrification of its social composition. If the proportion of commoners alone has not reached the symbolic barrier of 50%, when added to the ennobled (i.e. born as non-nobles), they do exceed half of those in duty during the First World War. These considerations rejoin the actual scholarly consensus regarding the embourgoisement (Verbürgerlichung) of the administrative personnel. Andrew C. Janos proposed Budapest



Vienna

Traditional orders*

179

  53 %

157

  43 %

Aristocracy

 14

  4 %

 53

  14 %

Lesser nobility

165

  49 %

104

  29 %

Non-titled

157

  47 %

205

  57 %

TOTAL

336

100 %

362

100 %

* Ennobled civil servants, the Beamtenadel, figure among the lesser nobility, as they do have a title of nobility and thus cannot be counted as non-titled. However, in Budapest, they represent these critical 3% that mark the majority of traditional order among the Konzepts­dienst.

For the Viennese bureaucracy, the numbers are drawn from Urbanitsch 2008, 205. For Budapest, my database was adjusted accordingly. Peter Urbanitsch scrutinizes only the heads of departments (Sektionschefs, rank IV), ministerial and privy councillors (Ministe­ rial- and Hofräte, rank V), but not the ministerial secretaries (rank VI). In Hungary, ­aristocrats appeared in the more political functions such as ministers (half of them in the Dualist era), Lord Lieutenants (two thirds during the whole period) and state secretaries; while their proportion among civil servants is significantly less than the corresponding rate in Vienna. By contrast, nobles composed half of the personnel under consideration in Hungary, but only one third in Austria. One explanation for the high proportion of the ­nobility in the administration is the much higher percentage of nobles within the ­Hungarian lands, making up 5% of the total population.

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Julia Bavouzet

similar results, although quite overestimating the proportion of commoners (60% of nobles in 1890 but only 49% in 1910).18 Benedek also points out the increasing proportion of commoners in the ministerial bureaucracy,19 revealing thereby the actual historiographical tendencies aiming to pinpoint the various manifestations of the embourgoisement process and emphasizing the role of the educated middle class (Bildungsbürgertum). These new tendencies deserve special mention, as administration was usually described as the traditional elite par excellence, stronghold of the archaic gentry who tried to maintain its privileges.20 Table 3: Proportion of nobility in the ministries, 1890–1910 TOTAL

Nontitled

Titled*

Historical orders

New nobles

Ennobled

Office of Prime Minister

 29

38 %

62 %

45 %

  3 %

14 %

Ministry of His Majesty

 12

  8 %

92 %

58 %

  8 %

25 %

Interior

130

40 %

60 %

49 %

  5 %

  5 %

Religous Affairs and Ed.

 59

29 %

71 %

58 %

  8 %

  5 %

Justice

 46

37 %

63 %

37 %

13 %

13 %

Finance

169

40 %

60 %

43 %

  9 %

  8 %

Commerce

138

30 %

70 %

49 %

10 %

11 %

Agriculture

111

17 %

83 %

60 %

  9 %

14 %

Defense

 56

39 %

61 %

46 %

  4 %

11 %

TOTAL**

709

34 %

66 %

48 %

  8 %

10 %

* The category ‘titled’ refers to both aristocracy and lesser nobility. ** Several civil servants worked in more than one ministry, which explains the difference in the total number.

18

Janos 1982, 110. Benedek 1990. 20 For example, Ernő Lakatos asserted in his famous study on the Hungarian governing elite that the gentry accounted for two-thirds of the central administration. He also concluded that “noble landowners’ representation in executive branches has always been significant, yet a slow but constant decrease was to be observed. Among leading positions on the contrary, they were proportionally overrepresented, and thereby they completely determined the sociological compositions of some ministries, especially the Office of Prime Minister, the Ministry of the Interior and the Ministry of Agriculture.” Lakatos 1942, 63. While for Lakatos, the Ministries of the Interior and Agriculture and the Office of the Prime Minister were the most ‘noble’ ones, this somehow differs from the results of this study (see Table 3) and reveals his perception of the representative (versus technical) ministries. 19

A Prosopographical Survey of the High Civil Service Corps

175

Also discrepancies between the ministries are to be observed (Table 3). The essentially representative Ministry of His Majesty was almost exclusively composed of nobles (92%), whereas nobility accounted only for two-thirds in more specialized ministries like Finance, Interior, Justice or Defense. On the contrary, the traditionalist Ministry of Agriculture had the highest proportion of historical orders (60%) as well as of ennobled (14%), and the lowest proportion of non-titled persons or commoners (17%) – with the exception of the Ministry of His Majesty. The social differentiation of the ministries thus does not correspond to their range of duties. This is especially the case of the technical ministries (Finance, Commerce and Agriculture), though they are often assimilated into one another. For example, Janos asserted that they were all ‘bourgeois’ ministries, as the members of the gentry were forced to compete with outsiders, especially in the more ‘technical’ fields of commerce and finance. However, while the Ministry of Finance presented indeed a high rate of non-titled officials (40%), on the contrary Commerce and Agriculture were far less open to commoners (17–30%). Moreover, presuming that technical fields of the administration easily welcome non-noble Konzeptsbeamte contributes to transport the impression that technization and professionalization should necessarily go with broadening the social recruitment – according to the relation between embourgoisement and professionalization theorized by Max Weber. Yet we shall somehow revise this statement in the following, or at least temperate it in the case of the ministerial bureaucracy. Still, it is quite difficult to evaluate the significance of noble titles inside the bureaucracy.21 Social sparkle of an old family name may be shattered by poor financial conditions. Besides, the asset that a noble name could offer at the beginning of a career (family connections, protection)22 would not 21

These considerations are also found in Andrea Pokludová’s contribution to this volume, 97–108. 22 The careers of the previous generation still had a major influence on the chances of ­success of their offspring. The fathers of 40% of the noble high civil servants also worked or had worked in the administration, and self-recruitment led to the formation of ­dynasties of civil servants. See Benedek 2010, 1226. The fathers of several high civil servants in this sample worked in the very same ministries (Abrányi, Emich, Fejér, Hollán, ­Kenessey, Splényi, Torkos) or in county administrations (e.g. as deputy lord lieutenants: Berczik, Bezerédj, Ferdinandy, Madách, Majovszky, Ottlik, Péchy, Széll, Szüry, all of them nobles). The administration was also an endogamous world: civil servants married the daughters or sisters (Buday, Koós, Lukács, Petróczy) of their colleagues. In the case of Mihály Kacskovics de Daruvár, who worked in the Ministry of Religious Affairs and Education and whose family was ennobled in the first half of the 19th century, his two sisters married high civil servants in the same ministry and in service during the period under consideration: Ödön Boncz de Bonczhid and Ferencz Csorba de Szakáts. Also two

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guarantee a rapid promotion in the upper ranks of the Konzeptsdienst, strictly regulated by seniority (the so-called szamárlétra). Statistical analysis may prove to be useful here, by providing quantitative insights into the promotion mechanism, beyond the legal norms aiming to rationalize and homogenize the bureaucratic machinery. Table 4: Career expectations according to the title of nobility, 1890–1910 TOTAL

Nontitled

Titled*

Historical orders

New nobles

Ennobled

M-R (rank V)

47 %

35 %

53 %

49 %

57 %

73 %

S-R (rank VI)

78 %

73 %

80 %

78 %

81 %

87 %

M-S (rank VII)

85 %

84 %

86 %

87 %

91 %

77 %

TOTAL

709

243

466

338

58

70

* The category ‘titled’ refers to both aristocracy and lesser nobility M-R – Ministerialrat (ministerial councillor); S-R – Sektionsrat (department councillor); M-S – Ministerialsekretär (ministerial secretary)

Table 5: Age at the time of promotion in the higher ranks according to the title of nobility, 1885–191823 VII. Ministerial-Sekretäre Average

Nontitled

VI. Sektions-Räte

Titled* Ennobled Average

Nontitled

V. Ministerial-Räte

Titled* Ennobled Average

Nontitled

Titled* Ennobled

1886–1895

37

38

36

37

43

46

42

42

50

50

50

52

1896–1905

39

40

38

41

45

46

45

45

51

52

49

52

1906–1918

39

39

39

38

45

46

44

47

51

51

52

51

* The category ‘titled’ refers to both aristocracy and lesser nobility.

Table 4 measures the career expectations of senior officials in relation with their social background. It shows clearly that members of the ­historical orders, may they belong to the lesser nobility or the aristocracy, had ­better of Kacskovics’s brothers served as ministerial councillor and deputy lord lieutenant, respectively. These familial strategies offer a glimpse into the practices of patronage and protection, which inevitably occurred, even though they are rather difficult to identify. Family ties and recommendations undoubtedly played a role in obtaining a post, or passing through each stage more quickly. 23 Calculation made from the Tiszti Cimtár and the various biographical sources cited above in footnotes 10–15 (for the date of birth). Only the promotions that occurred during the period under consideration were taken into account.

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177

chances to reach the top rank of ministerial councillor than non-titled commoners (49% against 35%). Yet the ennobled civil servants are the most likely to make it to rank V (73%), as they precisely constitute the elite of the Konzeptsdienst, ennobled as reward for their services rendered to the state during their career. Indeed, noble titles represented a valuable social asset in paving the road to the highest posts in the administration. But once again, this first observation must be tempered by scrutinizing the age of civil servants as they get promoted to a higher rank (Table 5). This time, it seems that nobility does not help to reach the top of the hierarchy faster: commoners as well as nobles have to go through the same career ladder, one step after another. If noble titles proved to be an asset for recruitment (Table 2) and career expectations (Table 4), the rapidity of the advancement shows no correlation with the social status at the turn of the century. Yet, this relative move towards the middle classes that occurred at the turn of the century should not hide the fact that the closed micro-world of the High Civil Service Corps was still deeply rooted in traditional thinking: state prestige was still identified with the historical elite. To gauge this prestige, we should recall that rank VI acted as a symbolic threshold, ­giving the right of presentation at the Imperial and Royal court (Hoffähigkeit, udvarképesség) even to those who were not members of the aristocratic ‘first society’ (első társadalom). Obviously, bureaucratic rank corresponds to the hierarchical position occupied in the Konzeptsdienst, but it also expresses the social ­status this position assured. The ranking system thus offers a specific argument to enlighten the conversion of inherited status into acquired position. For example, besides their salary, which increased according to rank and seniority,24 state officials enjoyed several privileges and allowances corresponding to their rank. Moreover, the very meaning of these privileges was to reflect and emphasize the rank. For example, housing allowance (lakpénz) varying from 500 to 1,000 ft. was granted for state officials from the ranks VII–V living in Budapest (the most expensive city in the country), to allow them to live ‘according to their rank’ (rangmäßig, rangszerű). This appears even more clearly in the case of accommodation, when every rank was allocated a defined apartment size: ministerial and department councillors could rent a 24

According to Hungarian Law 1893:IV, the salaries in rank VII varied between 2,000 ft (Gulden, Forint) and 2,400 ft, in rank VI between 2,500 and 3,000 ft, and in rank V ­between 4,000 and 5,000 ft (plus 500–1,000 ft each for housing allowance). Considering that the symbolic barrier for middle-class standard of living was 3,000 ft, the salaries of ministerial and department councillors guaranteed them upper middle class standards of living, even if they had no additional income (land, properties, etc.). Hajdú 1999, 240–246.

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five-room apartment in Buda or a four-room one in Pest, however secretaries only four rooms in the 1st and 2nd districts in Buda or three in Pest. According to the 1874 regulation on the financial service, these measures were explicitly intended to enable individuals to afford appropriate living quarters, in keeping with their social status. This regulation also stipulated the right to travel in carriages drawn by two, three, four, or even six horses, or to travel first or second class in trains and tramways, depending on the rank.25 Even heating and lighting allowances at the office were determined by the rank. In other words, beyond the office, the salary rank actually corresponded to a social rank: the hierarchical position in the Konzeptsdienst conferred a social status and its commensurate prestige. These social historical considerations rejoin Therese Garstenauer’s more developed analysis on Austrian civilian government employees’ conduct of life (standesgemäße Lebensführung)26 as well as Waltraud Heindl’s research on living standards, domestic culture and habitus of Austrian civil servants.27 They can only be mentioned here without proper extension, especially as this field remains a desideratum for the Hungarian civil service.28 Terms of address present a specific issue, as this bureaucratic practice emanates from nobility, and encompasses the whole public sphere of society. Terms of address should be seen as remnants of the feudal system of rank and order (nemes-rendi), where the hierarchy of the aristocracy actually corresponded to the hierarchy of offices. The inherited status (of the nobility) was then transformed into an individual position (in the bureaucracy), but the forms of address remained associated with certain virtues, as well as moral and intellectual qualities. Distinct terms of address were thus attributed according to rank, which had to be strictly observed when addressing superiors. For example, ministers were to be addressed as excellenciás úr (your excellency), and ministerial councillors as méltoságos úr (your esteemed). At rank VI, department councillors were called nagyságos úr (your honour), 25

A magyar királyi Pénzügyminisztérium ügykörre vonatkozó szolgálati szabályok gyűjteménye (1874), cited by Ladik 1908, 220. With accommodation becoming more and more expensive, the housing support was not sufficient to meet the standards requested. Several complaints show the bitterness of senior officials who, although living quite decently compared with other professions, feared social decline. 26 See 213–231 of this volume. 27 Heindl 2013b. 28 As mentioned before, the Hungarian central administration does not benefit from a long historiographical tradition. Some issues are present in Benedek’s work, for example ­housing and estate properties. See Benedek 2009. As for leisure activities, matrimonial strategies, social role of wives, education of children (all aspects treated by Heindl), these domestic aspects of civil servants remain to be researched.

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but ministerial secretaries were only tekintetes úr (most noble), emphasizing the hierarchical position of individuals in the bureaucratic apparatus. But these terms of address also reveal a person’s position in the social hierarchy, as the social prestige they carry went beyond the strictly professional sphere. A university professor, for example, who may have earned more than a ­ministerial councillor (rank V) thanks to the course fees, was still only addressed as nagyságos úr and considered less prestigious, as he belonged to rank VI. In this sense, Gábor Gyáni and György Kövér are elaborating new methods to delimit the social elite based on terms of address.29 These results could contribute to a better comprehension of the relationship between state officials and society. Indeed, terms of address worked as a common standard, allowing the prestige of each profession (categorized in the ranking ­system) and each individual (may they be civil servants, but also university ­graduates, aristocrats or members of the royal orders) to be measured. As for ­senior officials themselves, further research on their specific use of bureaucratic titles and terms of address might help us to better evaluate status and prestige among various social spheres.30 In many respects, the turn of the century seems to be a turning point in the High Civil Service Corps. Not only did non-titled senior officials surpass the nobility (not counting the aristocracy) in absolute numbers, but also noble titles became less significant for career advancement. This is also the time when major laws were promulgated, in order to rationalize and professionalize the state administration (Laws 1883:I on qualification and recruitment, 1885:XI on pensions, 1893:IV on salary). Besides, the arrival of a new ­generation of civil servants, entering the administration in the 1880s and reaching higher functions around 1900, was largely responsible for the increase of senior officials (from 405 in 1890 to 538 twenty years later, see 29

Gyáni & Kövér 2006. For the social meaning of the different terms of address and their role as a gauge of prestige, see Kovács 2011. Some groups were not included in the ­hierarchy of prestige as defined by terms of address, as they evolved outside the ­traditional ranking system, like the private financial and industrial spheres, the liberal professions and the new professional groups which developed alongside capitalism. Their members were usually addressed as úr (Sir). 30 A person might lay claim to various terms of address, due to his multiple affiliations. Count Gedeon Ráday, for example, should have been addressed as nagyságos úr according to the bureaucratic hierarchy, as he was department councillor at the Interior Ministry. But as an aristocrat, he stuck to the more prestigious méltóságos úr. However, later in his career, he chose to use his bureaucratic title to emphasize his hierarchical position. See Csapó 2002. Two kinds of hierarchies existed side by side and complemented each other. The strategy thus consisted in using the appropriate title at the right time, according to what was considered more prestigious in the respective situation.

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Table 1 above).31 This leads to the hypothesis that a general shift towards the middle classes occurred due to the arrival of a new generation, and that elite conversion was rather an elite replacement. A meritocratic elite The needs of a modern bureaucracy for competent and professionalized personnel in the Habsburg Monarchy generated a long tradition of regulations going back to the late 18th century, which culminated in Hungary in the qualification law (minősitési törvény) of 1883.32 The law required a specific formal qualification for each administrative post, which allowed “if not to hire the most competent, at least to have only competent individuals.”33 Higher officials of the central administration were thus expected to have at least completed their studies in law or political science at the universities in Pest or Kolozsvár (Klausenburg, Cluj), or at a law academy, and passed the state exam (Staatsprüfung, államvizsga) or obtained a doctoral degree.34 The bar exam to practice law, which apparently did not certify any ­administrative competence, was also regarded as an adequate qualification for a career in 31

32

Indeed, huge changes occurred among ministerial Konzipisten (rank IX) in the 1880s. Following a great reduction in their number in the 1870s due to economic straits on the part of the state, they soon doubled the number of senior civil servants. The impact of this nouvelle garde on ministe­ 1873 1879 1884 1891 rial personnel is yet to be examined. 235 208 216 228 See composition of the lower ranks Ranks V–VII of the Konzeptsdienst, 1873–1891 Ranks VIII–XI 336 153 307 372 (numbers drawn from Benedek 1997, TOTAL 571 361 523 600 110):

From Maria Theresa’s recommendations and Joseph II’s Hirtenbrief to the more detailed instructions of the 19th century, civil servants had to go through legal education in law academies or universities. See Benedek 2003. The qualification law was passed as a result of an enquiry into the state personnel, initiated by Prime Minister Kálmán Tisza, in order to find a remedy to the ‘asian condition’ (ázsiai állapot) of the Hungarian administration. This recurrent critique, referring to an imagined underdeveloped Asia as opposed to the modern West, was introduced by deputy Pál Szennyey, who deplored during his first session in the Parliament in 1872 the poor state of administrative structures, and appealed to fundamental reforms of the county administration. See Janos 1982, xxi. 33 Benedek 2003. The political functions of minister, state secretary and lord lieutenant were not defined by any compulsory qualifications, as, in the public opinion of the time, those prerequisites would have restricted the ‘free’ and ‘democratic’ choice for these leadership positions. 34 In 1872, the Kolozsvár Law Academy was re-organized into a second Hungarian univer­ sity. The four law academies were situated in Pozsony (Pressburg, today Bratislava), ­Kassa (Kaschau, Košice), Nagyszeben (Hermannstadt, Sibiu) and Nagyvarad (Großwardein, Oradea). For an overview of legal training in Hungary in the 19th century, see Karády 1991, 106–108, and Bavouzet 2017, 207–271.

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the ministries. Yet one could not talk about a monopoly of jurists (Juristen­ monopol) as in Prussia, which in 1879 made a law degree compulsory for entrance to the higher civil service. Indeed, besides the traditional law-trained Konzeptsbeamte, the qualification law reserved some functions for members of other professions (engineers at the land registry, physicians at the health department of the Interior Ministry, teachers in the Ministry of Religious Affairs and Education, etc.). In addition, engineers were authorized to join the administration after passing a special law and administrative exam, but they could only obtain certain professional posts, such as technical councillor (Technischer Rat, műszaki tanácsos), agricultural official (Kulturbeamter, kultúrmérnök) or positions in the accounting offices. The qualification law thus contributed to the rise of experts in the central bureaucracy. Taking into account the time lag and the fact that legal requirements often differed from the effective reality of bureaucratic practices, the turn of the century appears to be the proper time to measure the impacts of the qualification law. Senior officials in service in the 1890s had usually entered the administration before 1883, but the generation at the top of the hierarchy in 1910 had been recruited after the implementation of the law. As academic titles were listed next to the name, the Staatshandbücher, the official reference guides of the public service, offer a first overview of the presence of doctorates in the ministries, while lesser qualifications (state and bar exam, engineer’s degree) are far more difficult to deduce and therefore not considered here. Doctors represent 36% of our sample (256 individuals), but as in the case of noble titles, finer statistical analyses must be conducted. The remarkable increase in the number of doctorates among senior ­officials (from 20% in 1890 to 51% in 1910 and 62% in 1918) confirms the realization of the principle of merit (Leistungsprinzip) at the highest levels of the administration. Yet considerable variations between the different m ­ inistries can be observed. While academic titles were quite rare in the M ­ inistry of Agriculture (where the nobility was over-represented), doctorates dominate the Ministries of Justice (72% in 1910) and of Religious Affairs and Education (68%). Besides, this tendency differently affected nobility and commoners, as can be seen in Table 6.

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Table 6: Proportion of doctors in the Konzeptsdienst, regarding noble titles, 1890–1918 1890–1894 1895–1899 1900–1904 1905–1909 1910–1914 1915–1918 TOTAL

319

366

351

434

505

516

doctors

64

96

117

186

260

321

Proportion of doctors

20%

26%

33%

43%

51%

62%

Titled

226

256

234

281

316

283

doctors

41

67

77

123

167

184

Proportion of doctors

18%

26%

33%

44%

53%

65%

Non-titled

93

110

117

153

189

233

doctors

23

29

40

63

93

137

25%

26%

34%

41%

49%

59%

Proportion of doctors

After the promulgation of the qualification law, commoners were the first to massively invest in the higher academic degree and the proportion of ­doctors was higher among them then among the historical orders (19 to 16% in 1885 and 25 to 18% in 1890). These statistical regularities can be interpreted as a way to strategically compensate the symbolical capital of nobility, and present an obvious argument to support the theory of professionalization as a way to gentrification. Yet surprisingly, a trend reversal can be observed at the turn of the century: the proportion of doctors among the nobility caught up with commoners, and even gradually exceeded it (44 to 41% in 1905, then 53 to 49% before and 65 to 59% during the war). This very reversal highlights the reconversion of a traditional elite into a meritocratic one, possessing both noble and academic titles simultaneously. Unfortunately, there are no university statistics recording the social status of the students, in order to evaluate if these evolutions are caused by changes in the social composition of the student body. Still, at the turn of the century the percentage of doctors was higher among commoners than among the nobility, implying, too, that the new generation arriving in the higher ranks had a different profile. Another interesting aspect to measure is the effect of an academic title on career advancement (Table 7).

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Table 7: Age at the time of promotion in the higher ranks according to academic title, 1885–1918 VII. Ministerial-Sekretäre Average Doctors

others

VI. Sektions-Räte Average Doctors

others

V. Ministerial-Räte Average Doctors

others

1886–1895

37

35

38

43

42

43

50

52

50

1896–1905

39

37

43

45

43

47

51

50

51

1906–1918

39

38

41

45

43

48

51

49

54

Whereas noble titles have no impact in terms of rapidity of advancement (Table 5), academic titles present a valuable asset in this regard. Civil servants with a doctoral degree were three to six years younger when they were promoted to rank VII than their colleagues without an academic title. Yet this first advantage gradually vanished along the career path: doctors are still slightly younger when promoted in the upper ranks, but it takes them longer to reach the top of the hierarchy (17 against 12 years in 1886–1895, 13 against 8 years in 1896–1905). The results of this research cannot explain this ambiguous situation (statistical incoherence or external factors not taken into account?), but this effect reverses after 1905, as it takes only eleven years for doctors to reach rank V against 13 for non-doctors in 1910. The practice of ennobling senior officials was a specific way to harmonize a meritocratic with a more traditional elite. Indeed, sanctioning arrival at a superior level of the hierarchy with a title of nobility can be seen as an attempt to conciliate the traditional representation of society with the needs of a modern state apparatus.35 Ennobled senior officials account for 10% of the study sample (Table 3). Indeed, this practice of ennoblement parado­ xically increased after the 1890s, at the very time when a title of nobility no longer offered any advantage in the promotion system (Table 5): 80% of all ennoblements of ministerial civil servants during the dualist era occurred after 189036. Was this practice a neo-aristocratization of the administration, as in Prussia or in Austria, or perhaps an attempt to compensate for the mass arrival of non-titled commoners at the top of the bureaucratic hierarchy? 35

The ennoblement of senior officials stresses the importance of the traditional sources of prestige in the society as a whole, beyond the bureaucracy. Academic degrees also conferred social status and privileges: a Gymnasium graduation (Matura) automatically awarded the status of gentleman (úr) and the right to carry a sword, to vote, and opened the way to one-year volunteer military service (the requirement for becoming a reserve officer). Besides, college and university graduates had been addressed as tekintetes since the beginning of the Dualist era. 36 Bavouzet 2017, 443.

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Table 8: Distribution of noble and ennobled senior officials in the different ministries, 1890–1910 Senior officials Office of Prime Minister His Majesty

29

4 %

nobles* 14

ennobled 4 %

4

6 %

12

2 %

8

2 %

3

4 %

130

18 %

71

18 %

7

10 %

Religious Affairs and Ed.

59

8 %

39

10 %

3

4 %

Justice

46

6 %

23

6 %

6

9 %

Finance

169

24 %

88

22 %

14

20 %

Commerce

138

19 %

82

21 %

15

21 %

Agriculture

111

16 %

77

19 %

15

21 %

Interior

Defense TOTAL**

56

8 %

28

7 %

6

9 %

709

100 %

396

100 %

70

100 %

* Not including the ennobled civil servants. ** Several civil servants worked in more than one ministry, which explains the difference in the total number.

Some ministries tend to ennoble more than others, regardless of the actual proportion of nobles among them (Table 8). This is the case for example of the Ministry of Justice, comprising 6% of all senior officials as well as 6% of all nobles, but 9% of all ennobled ones. The Ministry of Agriculture shows the same pattern: 16% of all senior officials, proportionately more nobles (19%), but 21% of the ennoblements. On the contrary, the Ministry of the Interior presents the opposite tendency: it comprises 18% of all senior officials and among them the same proportion of nobles, but only 10% of the ennobled civil servants. Ennoblement thus does not seem to operate as a corrective of a too ‘bourgeois’ social composition, but to reinforce the presence of nobility in the already ‘noble’ ministries. The ennoblement of senior officials often went along with magyarizing the surname, and, in the case of the very few Jews in the sample, with religious conversion.37 This should draw the attention on the symbolic changes in ennobling civil servants, in a time of massive magyarization politics first targeting the administration. The historical purpose of this practice, rewarding outstanding competencies by elevation into the traditional elite, tends 37

Among the 70 ennobled senior officials of our survey, 40 had non-Magyar, mostly German surnames. Half of them magyarized their name. This proportion surpasses by far the general proportion of magyarization of names in the sample (14% of the non-Magyar surnames, i.e. 44 of 310 individuals).

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to be gradually replaced by another function: assimilation into the official elite, the natio Hungarica (with a joint meaning of noble and Hungarian, i.e. Magyar nation). In this sense, ennoblement of Konzeptsbeamte appears a lot less anachronistic. Conclusion To summarize the results of this inquiry on the Hungarian ministerial elite, the two defined variables (noble and academic title) provided by the Staats­ handbücher allowed to measure the increasing number of doctors and the repercussions of an academic title on career achievement. Also, the remnants of traditional mechanisms at the very heart of the bureaucratic machinery could be measured as well, still somehow favoring nobility and rewarding meriting commoners with ennoblement. Therefore, the sociological evolution of the Konzeptsdienst should not be seen as a clear-cut replacement of an older generation committed to feudal values by modern bourgeois dignitaries (Honoratioren), whose accomplishments were entirely based on their merits. Indeed separating the ideal-type of an ancien regime society from a modern capitalist one may help to distinguish the basic differences, but fails to consider the full sweep and ambiguity of the movement of modernization: from a traditionalist elite, yet aware of the importance of academic titles, to a meritocratic elite, yet benefiting from traditional sources of prestige (ennoblement, terms of address). Senior officials of Hungarian ministries offer a relevant example of the conversion of a traditional elite into a modern one bearing meritocratic ­ideals. But this conversion, which occurred at a critical juncture in history at the turn of the 19th and the 20th centuries, requires a special degree of insight in order to be correctly perceived. As mentioned in the introduction of this volume,38 the actual revival of interest in imperial Austrian and Habsburg administration is mainly taking the form of individual or collective biography – also reflected in this volume. A biographical approach, focusing on individual actors more than on institutions or general social considerations, offers empirical insights in an often comparative perspective of different levels of the bureaucracy. Yet this essay hopes to contribute to reassert the value of a quantitative approach of this problem. Indeed, statistical analysis conducted in this paper helped to highlight the broadening of sociological recruitment as well as some aspects of the professionalization of the Konzeptsdienst, in a humbler and more reduced way than the social historical 38

See Adlgasser & Lindström, 7. For the success of the biographical approach, see also Lindström 2008.

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approach that stamped its mark on Austrian historiography (symptomatically no statistics are to be found in Heindl’s work). Still, regarding the conclusive results obtained by measuring only two variables, we cannot but insist on the heuristic input of reintroducing a quantitative approach alongside the empirical preoccupations of the actual historiography.

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Bureaucrats at War Konzeptsbeamte in the Austro-Hungarian Military Administrations in Poland, Serbia, Montenegro and Albania during the First World War Heiko Brendel Introduction It can be assumed that serving in the civilian branches of the Austro-Hungarian military administration was popular among Austrian and Hungarian Konzeptsbeamte, as civil servants deployed in the armed forces – whether at the front line or in the occupied territories – were exempted from army physicals as well as from reporting for armed duty in the Austrian Landwehr or its Hungarian equivalent, the Honvéd.1 This article will examine the role of the Konzeptsbeamte – civil servants with completed juridical-political studies as a qualification for higher service to the state2 – in the Austro-Hungarian military administrations in the First World War. In 1915 and early 1916, Austria-Hungary gained control over more than 100,000 square kilometres with about seven million inhabitants in Russian Poland and the Western Balkans (see Map 1). From September 1915 on, the occupation zone in southern Poland was administrated as a military general governorate (k. u. k. Militärgeneralgouvernement), the occupation zone in the Balkans comprised the general governorates in Serbia (the north-western part of the Kingdom of Serbia with the capital Belgrade) and in Montenegro (the Kingdom of Montenegro with the capital Cetinje), and the territory occupied by the XIXth Corps in Northern and Central Albania (capital Shkodra), which was not organized as a general governorate, but as an Etappenverwaltung (rear echelon military administration).3 The short1

2 3

Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Kriegsarchiv, Neue Feldakten (ÖStA, KA, NFA), Karton 1755, Verlautbarungen des k. u. k. Militär-Generalgouvernements in Montenegro Nr. 42 (8.5.1918), Point 6. Heindl 1990, 102. On the special situation in Albania, see Schwanke 1982; San Nicolò 1918.

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lived occupation regimes in Northern Italy and the Ukraine as well as the Austro-Hungarian share of the military administration in Romania will not be examined in this article.

Map 1: Territories occupied by Austria-Hungary (1 June 1916)

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Bureaucrats at War

In the four mentioned occupation zones (see Table 1), the administrations were not clear-cut military, but had important civilian elements, and civilian Konzeptsbeamte could be found at various key positions. In the following, the focus will be placed on the general governorates in Serbia (MGG/S) and Montenegro (MGG/M). However, there will be frequent references to the situations in Poland (MGG/P) and in occupied Albania. Finally, most conclusions should be applicable to the situations in all Austro-Hungarian military administrations. Table 1: Basic statistics of the Austro-Hungarian military administrations in Poland, Serbia, Montenegro and Albania (as of early 1916)45 Administrative body Military general governorate in Poland

Area

Population

ca 45,000 km2 ca 4.5 million km2

Number of districts 22

Military general governorate in Serbia

ca 30,000

Military general governorate in Montenegro

ca 14,500 km2 ca 0.4 million

7 (8)5

Military administration in Albania

ca 20,000 km2 ca 0.5 million

6

ca 1.3 million

13

Administrative Structures The MGG/P was established on 1 September 1915,6 the MGG/S followed on 1 January 1916 and the MGG/M on 1 March 1916. In Albania, the Etappenverwaltung of the XIXth Corps was formalized on 19 April 1916.7 In all four territories, the administration was horizontally divided into four levels: the top level was the military general governorate itself, or, in the case of Albania, the corps headquarters. Then came the district (Kreis), followed by the county (Bezirk), and finally the community (Gemeinde) as the lowest level of administration.8 The administrations were organized after the ­Austrian and Hungarian models, but especially following the example of Bosnia and 4

5

6

7

8

ÖStA, KA, Armee-Oberkommando (AOK), Op.-Abteilung (Evidenzgruppe B), Karton 523, map Besatzungsgebiet; Mitzka 1928, 10; Hausner 1935, XIV; Kerchnawe 1928a, 58–59; Perels 1918, 467; Schwanke 1982, 130. After 1 August 1917, there were eight districts in Montenegro. From 1 to 30 September, the capital of the MGG/P was Kielce, followed by Lublin on 1 October 1915. Prior to the establishment of the MGG/P, two Austro-Hungarian military governorates existed in Russian Poland, located in Piotrków and Miechów (later Kielce) respectively (Hausner 1935, 35). Schwanke 1982, 121. In Albania, the labelling was inverted: Districts were called Bezirke, while sub-districts were called Kreise.

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Herzegovina.9 The territorial organization of the Austro-­Hungarian military administration in Poland was modelled on the former Imperial Russian structure, in Serbia and Montenegro it followed the organization in the kingdoms of Serbia and Montenegro,10 and in Albania the Imperial Ottoman pattern served as a blueprint.11 The most important official in the general governorates was the governor-general (Militärgeneralgouverneur), in occupied Albania the corps commander. While the chain of command dictated that a corps commander was subordinate to the Army High Command (Armeeoberkommando; AOK), the position of a governor-general was open to interpretation. Since the German governors-general in Belgium and Poland were appointed by the emperor without the countersignatures of the chancellor, the minister of the interior or Supreme Army Command, they enjoyed a high level of independence.12 An Austro-Hungarian governor-general, however, was not directly subordinated to the Emperor and King, but to the AOK. Thus, his authority was restricted, as the AOK formally had to approve regulations issued by him and could enact its own laws and regulations directly affecting the governorate without the governor-general’s approval.13 As a consequence, the differences between an Austro-Hungarian general governorate and an Etappenverwaltung – as in Albania – were marginal, unlike the differences between German general governorates and Etappenverwaltungen. Next in command under the governor-general were a chief of the general staff (Generalstabschef) and a chief civil commissioner (Zivillandeskommissär).14 Concluding from the formal responsibilities of the civil commissioner – “issues of jurisdiction in civil law, further other legal, sanitary, and veterinary issues, […] judgment on regulations […] from the legal and political points of view”15 –, an experienced Konzeptsbeamter from the civil administration perfectly fitted into this position. However, the actual role, 9

10 11 12 13 14 15

Politischer Bezirk, Gerichtsbezirk, and Gemeinde in Cisleithania, Komitat, Bezirk, and Gemeinde in Hungary, Kreis, Bezirk, and Gemeinde in Bosnia and Herzegovina. On the parallels between Bosnia and Herzegovina and the military administrations, see Schmid 1914, 50–101. The headquarters of the former Serbian and Montenegrin army districts became AustroHungarian district headquarters. On the formation of the MGG/S, see Jungerth 1918. The district commanders had basically the responsibility of Ottoman sanjak governors, see Schwanke 1982, 130. On Poland, see Lehnstaedt 2014, on Belgium, Corni 2014 and Köhler 1942, 25. See, for example, Mitzka 1928, 10–11. The role of the governor-general’s adjutant will not be analysed in this article. ÖStA, KA, AOK, Op.-Abteilung (Evidenzgruppe B), Karton 666, Allgemeine Grundzüge für die k. u. k. Militärverwaltung in Montenegro (March 1916).

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position, and function of the civil commissioner were open to interpretation and negotiation between the AOK, the foreign ministry and the governments of Austria and Hungary. Thus, the AOK’s formal supremacy in the military administrations was far from political reality. At the core of the debate was the question as to whether the civil commissioner was only subordinated to the governor-general or also to the chief of the general staff of the occupied territory: Was the civil commissioner a part of the Austro-Hungarian military hierarchy – or was he exempted? However, this differed between the four military administrations in Poland, Serbia, Montenegro and Albania – and also over time. In general, there was a trend towards strengthening the civilian element, hence increasing the importance of the Konzeptsbeamte serving in the occupied territories. In the first and second editions of the service regulations for the MGG/S, the civil commissioner was still subordinate to the chief of the general staff in Serbia and had a merely advisory function.16 He had to counsel the governor-general and his chief of staff on political and administrative questions. In June 1916, the MGG/S’s service regulations were rewritten. In the new edition – not enacted before October 1916 – the civil commissioner was basically on par with his military counterpart. He now had his own office and staff, and was responsible for civilian personnel throughout the governorate. And most important: he was only subordinated to the governor-general personally.17 The position of the civil commissioner in the MGG/P had already been augmented in August 1916,18 probably inspired by the previous debate on the civil commissioner’s role in Serbia. In the MGG/M, however, the weak position of the civil commissioner was not formally improved until April 1917.19 In Albania, there were no formal service regulations, so the situation was less clear. Exploiting the weaknesses and incompetence of the chiefs of the general staff, the civil commissioner managed – vigorously supported by the foreign ministry in Vienna – to expand his sphere of responsibilities in several formal as well as informal steps from August 1916 to July 16

ÖStA, Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv, Politisches Archiv (HHStA, PA) I, Karton 996, ­Liasse Krieg 49 a – Unsere Verwaltung in Montenegro 1916 (Allgemeines 1916–1918), Allgemeine Grundzüge für die k. u. k. Militärverwaltung in Serbien (April 1916). The first edition of the service regulations was published in January 1916, see Kerchnawe 1928a, 56. 17 ÖStA, KA, AOK, Op.-Abteilung (Evidenzgruppe B), Karton 666, Allgemeine Grundzüge für die k. u. k. Militärverwaltung in Serbien (September 1916). 18 Hausner 1935, 69–73, 330–331. On the early MGG/P, see also Jungerth 1918. 19 ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a, Änderung der allgemeinen Grundzüge für die Militärverwaltung in Montenegro (30 April 1917).

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1918.20 Ambitions of high-ranking military officials in Albania to elevate the status of the Etappenverwaltung to a full-fledged general governorate directly subordinated to the AOK – which would have resulted in formal service regulations and probably a rebalancing of the responsibilities in the military’s favour – failed due to the resistance of the foreign ministry and the chief civil commissioner.21 The branches and sections of the military administrations in Poland, Serbia, Montenegro and Albania differed between the occupation zones and were re-organized several times. Typically, Konzeptsbeamte were only systematized in the civil affairs section of the administration, and there were only very few of them. As of September 1917, for example, just eight legally trained civil servants served in the MGG/M, while, at the same time, about 130 military officials (Offiziere and Militärbeamte) had posts at the top administrative level.22 On the district level in the general governorates, the district civil commissioner (Leitender Zivilkommissär23) was the head of the district’s political section, but also influential in other administrative areas. Even in the armed branch of the district commands – the Austro-Hungarian Gendarmerie, which was formally and explicitly under the sole control of the district commanders – civil commissioners could occasionally assume extensive authority.24 On the whole, the district civil commissioners’ role and influence highly depended on their personalities and their military colleagues and counterparts: district commanders, their deputies, and adjutants. Proportionately, the civilian element was stronger in the districts than at the top level of the military administrations. In a typical district of the MGG/M, for instance, there served two Konzeptsbeamte and about 15 military officers. It was usual that the colonels and lieutenant-colonels, who acted as district commanders, were less qualified to administer an occupied territory than their formally subordinated civil commissioners, who had often served as chief administrators in the civil service, for example as county or city prefect (Bezirksvorsteher or Stadthauptmann) for years. Furthermore, civilian officials mainly had a better command of the local language than their military counterparts, often due to their ethnic origin. In the MGG/P, for example,

20

Schwanke 1982, 128–139. Schwanke 1982, 140. 22 ÖStA, KA, AOK, Generalstab, Karton 903, Gliederung und Personaleinteilung des k. u.  k. Militär-Generalgouvernements in Montenegro mit 1. September 1917. 23 Until mid-1916, also termed Politischer Offizier (political officer). 24 Hausner 1935, 14. For an example, see ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 998, Liasse Krieg 49 e – Stimmung in Montenegro 1916, Weber to Kreiskommando Kolašin, 13 June 1916. 21

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all district civil commissioners were ethnic Poles.25 On the county level, the influence of the civilian bureaucrats was limited, at least formally. There were no systematized civilian officials at all, with some rare and temporary exceptions, and certainly no Konzeptsbeamte. However, the absence of civilian officials at this administrative level was of little practical relevance, because the sub-district commands were not administrative bodies in their own right, but just auxiliary authorities of the district commands, mainly with the function of supporting military and policing functions.26 Chief Civil Commissioners (Zivillandeskommissäre) In March 1916, only one of four Austro-Hungarian chief civil commissioners was a Konzeptsbeamter, while one year later, just one of them was not a legally trained civil servant. Crucial in this development – as a result of the administrative competence of these bureaucrats it might be termed “professionalization” – was the dissent between the various decision-­makers in the AOK, the foreign ministry and the governments in Vienna and ­Budapest. Formally, the quartermaster section of the AOK was responsible for all personnel issues in the military administrations.27 Practically, however, the governments of Austria and Hungary, and the common imperial institutions, especially the foreign ministry, had a major role to play in this matter, and even the Common Ministerial Council (Gemeinsamer Ministerrat) gained some relevance, especially to counter the AOK’s annexationism. Thus, ­various factors determined the appointment of high-ranking officials (see Figure 1).

25

Hausner 1935, 330. ÖStA, KA, NFA, Karton 1689, Verlautbarungen des k. u. k. Militär-Generalgouvernements in Montenegro Nr. 19 (18 May 1916), Point 6. 27 For an explicit statement on the Montenegrin case, see ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a, Thurn to Burián, 7 March 1916. 26

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Figure 1: Main factors and influences on the appointment of high-ranking officials in ­Austro-Hungarian occupied territories.28

Mainly for geographic reasons and mostly respected by the AOK, the Austrian government in Vienna regarded the MGG/P – only bordering on Cisleithanian territory – as its exclusive sphere of responsibility. Hungary and the common foreign ministry were omitted without many complaints being made. Thus, all three successive chief civil commissioners in Lublin were Konzeptsbeamte who had earlier held positions in the Cisleithanian administration (see Table 2).

28

The special case of the XIXth Corps headquarters in Albania is not visualized.

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Table 2: Governors-general, chiefs of the general staff, chief civil commissioners, and envoys of the foreign ministry in the Austro-Hungarian military general governorate in Poland29 Officials in the military general governorate in Poland (‘Konzeptsbeamte’ in italics) Governor-general

Chief of the general staff

09/1915 GM Erich – von Diller 04/1916 05/1916 FZM – Karl Kuk 04/1917

09/1915 Oberst Arthur – Hausner 07/1918

04/1917 Gdl Stanisław – Szeptycki 02/1918 03/1918 FML Anton – Lipošćak 10/1918

07/1918 GM Josef von – Huber 10/1918

Chief civil commissioner

Envoy of the foreign ministry

09/1915 Statthaltereirat – Georg Wodzicki 07/1916 von Granow

09/1915 (informal:) – Legationsrat 06/1916 II. Kategorie Alexander von Lago

08/1916 Sektionschef – Georg Madeyski 02/1918 von Poray

03/1918 Ministerialrat – Ladislaus 10/1918 Müller

06/1916 a.o. Gesandter – und bevoll­ 10/1918 mächtigter Minister Otto HoenningO’Carroll

Whereas the situation in the MGG/P was not a major issue, the state of Albania – the only occupied territory not directly adjacent to Austro-­ Hungarian territory – was much more complicated. Legally, the Principality of Albania was not a hostile power, but an occupied neutral country. It was not ruled as a general governorate, but administered as an Etappenverwaltung of the XIXth Corps. Neither the Austrian nor the Hungarian governments had original interests in Albania, thus “the Cornerstone of Balkan Power Projection”30 became a battleground of the interests of the AOK and the foreign ministry.31 On 21 March 1916, the envoy of the Foreign Minister, Consul-General August Kral, became chief civil commissioner in Albania (see Table 3). Kral was a Bohemian of non-noble birth and a graduate of the Oriental Academy, not a Konzeptsbeamter. However, he had some administrative experience from his former consular activities, and he was familiar with the territory as the former Austro-Hungarian member to the international control-commission for Albania.

29

K. u. K. Ministerium des 30 See Fried 2012. 31 See

Äussern 1917; Hausner 1935.

Schwanke 1982, 90–106, 385–386.

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Table 3: Commanders and chiefs of the general staff of the XIXth Corps, chief civil commissioners and envoys of the foreign ministry in Austro-­Hungarian occupied Albania32 Officials in the Austro-Hungarian ‘Etappenverwaltung’ in Albania Commanders of XIXth Corps 12/1914 Gdl Ignaz – Trollmann von 10/1917 Lovćenberg

10/1917 Gdl Ludwig – Können-Horák 06/1918 von Höhenkampf 07/1918 GO Karl – Freiherr von 10/1918 Pflanzer-Baltin

Chief of the general staff

Chief civil commissioner

Envoy of the foreign ministry

03/1916 Oberst Julius – Lustig-Prean 08/1916 von Preanfeld 08/1916 Oberst Oswald Eccher ab Eccho von Marienberg 09/1916 Oberst Franz – Schattel 07/1918

03/1916 Generalkonsul – I. Klasse 09/1918 August Kral

02/1916 Generalkonsul – I. Klasse 09/1918 August Kral

07/1918 Oberst Franz – Schneider 10/1918

Kral’s appointment was followed by a short, but intensive debate between Foreign Minister Baron István Burián and Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, the Chief of the General Staff of the armed forces. But in early April 1916, the AOK reluctantly agreed to Kral’s dual function as civil commissioner and envoy of the foreign ministry. Almost until the end of the war,33 Kral was only responsible to the foreign minister, but at the same time, as the civil commissioner and head of Gruppe B of the Etappenverwaltung, subordinated to the corps commander.34 He was a perceptive observer of the military’s behaviour, and soon a certain animosity developed between him and the military.35 In Serbia and Montenegro, the situation was politically more complicated than in Poland and Albania. Serbia bordered on Hungary as well as Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Montenegro was adjacent to Bosnia and Herzegovina but also to Cisleithanian Dalmatia. With reference to Austria’s special 32

K. u. K. Ministerium des Äussern 1917; Schwanke 1982. In September 1918, Kral was removed from his post. In the collapsing Habsburg Empire, Burián dropped him under the pressure of the AOK. Two legally trained officials were discussed as possible successors as chief civil commissioner: Consul General Rémi von Kwiatkowski and Statthaltereirat Paul Freiherr von Sternbach. However, the Etappenverwaltung was abolished before Kral’s successor was appointed, see Schwanke 1982, 104–106. 34 Schwanke 1982, 96–97, 127, 541. 35 Schwanke 1982, 96. 33

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role in Poland, the Hungarian government regarded the MGG/S as its own field of influence. At the same time, Budapest declared its lack of interest in ­Montenegro. Due to Prime Minister Count István Tisza’s deliberate withdrawal from the Adriatic, the MGG/M happened to fall into Austria’s sphere of influence. However, Foreign Minister Burián also expressed interest in Montenegro, which was the territorial link between Austria-Hungary and his “pet project” Albania.36 Thus, the appointment of the governors-general, but also of the chief civil commissioners and other military and civilian officials in the military administrations in Serbia and Montenegro became a playground for the conflicting domestic and foreign interests of the Austrian and Hungarian governments, the foreign ministry, and the AOK. In Serbia, Lajos von Thallóczy, the favourite candidate of Prime Minister Tisza, was appointed chief civil commissioner in January 1916.37 Thallóczy was a renowned historian, archivist, and official in the Common Ministry of Finance, where he headed the department for Bosnia and Herzegovina. After his promotion to Rangsklasse III, he was one of the most senior officials in the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire.38 However, Thallóczy was not a Konzeptsbeamter and had only limited experience of practical administrative matters. Consequently and to Tisza’s dislike, Thallóczy and his staff of ­Hungarian civilian administrators in Serbia, only few of them Konzeptsbeamte, were marginalized by the military officials of the general governorate and the AOK.39

36

Fried 2014, 12, 158; see also Kerchnawe 1928b, 6–7, and Galántai 1981, 245. Born into a German-speaking Hungarian family as Ludwig Strommer, Thallóczy assumed the Croat-Hungarian aristocratic name of Talovac/Thallóczy after finishing his history studies in Budapest. See Haselsteiner 2010, 45–46. Thallóczy’s appointment, though, was a controversial matter in Hungary, since he was a common Austro-Hungarian, not a Royal Hungarian official. He was even called a traitor by the opposition in Budapest. See Szabó 2010, 172–174. 38 Glatz 2010, 21–25. Bosnia-Herzegovina was administered through the common ­finance ministry since the occupation in 1878. This provisional situation continued after the ­annexation in 1908, since the Austrian, Hungarian and Common governments could reach no agreement about the ultimate status of the province. 39 Fried 2014, 158. 37

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Table 4: Governors-general, chiefs of the general staff, chief civil commissioners, and envoys of the foreign ministry in the Austro-Hungarian military general governorate in Serbia40 Officials in the military general governorate in Serbia (‘Konzeptsbeamte’ in italics) Governor-general

Chief of the general staff

01/1916 FML Johann – Ulrich von 07/1916 Salis-Seewis

01/1916 Oberst Oskar – Gellinek 07/1916

07/1916 GM Adolf von – Rhemen zu 10/1918 Barensfeld

07/1916 Oberst Hugo – Kerchnawe 10/1918

Chief civil commissioner

01/1916 Sektionschef – Lajos von 12/1916 Thallóczy

01/1917 Sektionschef – Theodor 10/1918 ­Kussevich de Blacko

Envoy of the foreign ministry 02/1916 a.o. Gesandter – und bevoll­ 11/1916 mächtigter Minister Lajos Széchényi de SárvárFelsővidék 12/1916 a.o. Gesandter – und bevoll­ 10/1918 mächtigter Minister Otto Kuhn von Kuhnenfeld

Soon after Tisza had enforced Thallóczy’s appointment in Serbia against General Conrad’s will, the prime minister’s confidante and Foreign Minister Burián clashed with the AOK over the MGG/M. Burián tried to install his personal delegate in Montenegro, Eduard Otto, as chief civil commissioner there. Otto was the former Austro-Hungarian minister in Cetinje, and, like Kral, he was a graduate of the Oriental Academy. However, unlike Kral with his consular experience, Otto – who had transferred early on in his career from the consular to the diplomatic corps – had almost no administrative experience. Furthermore, as a bourgeois Protestant from Trieste, Otto was quite an atypical member of the traditionally aristocratic and Catholic diplomatic corps, but nevertheless a highly praised talent.41 Against General Conrad’s objections, Otto was appointed on 14 March 1916.

40

K. u. K. Ministerium des 41 See Godsey 1999, 80.

Äussern 1917; Scheer 2009, 32; Mitrović 2007, 203.

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Table 5: Governors-general, chiefs of the general staff, chief civil commissioners, and envoys of the foreign ministry in the Austro-Hungarian military general governorate in Montenegro42 Officials in the military general governorate in Montenegro (‘Konzeptsbeamte’ in italics) Governor-general 03/1916 FML Viktor – Weber von 07/1917 Webenau

07/1917 Oberst – Heinrich Graf 10/1918 Clam-Martinic

Chief of the general staff

Chief civil commissioner

03/1916 Oberstleutnant – Gustav Hubka 07/1917 von Czernczitz

03/1916 a.o. Gesandter – und bevoll­ 04/1916 mächtigter Minister Eduard Otto

07/1917 Oberstleutnant – Emil Hondl 02/1918

04/1916 Statthaltereirat – Paul Frh. von 11/1917 Sternbach

02/1918 Oberstleutnant – Konstantin 10/1918 Sekulich

11/1917 Statthaltereirat – Arthur 10/1918 von SchmidtZabiérow

Envoy of the foreign ministry

a.o. Gesandter 05/1916 und bevoll­ – mächtigter 10/1918 Minister Eduard Otto

While Kral was a perceptive observer of the military in Albania, in ­ ontenegro Otto was not satisfied with this role. He almost immediately M became a harsh critic of the military. Thus, he clashed with the military officials in the MGG/M. Otto’s most important opponent was the chief of the general staff, Lieutenant Colonel Gustav von Hubka. The antagonists knew each other well. Hubka had been military attaché in Montenegro until 1914, while Otto served there as head of the diplomatic representation in the Kingdom. Hubka, a hardliner straight out of the textbook, intrigued against the diplomat and wrote many letters full of complaints about him.43 Otto was accused of being “at feud with the military administration” and acting as a “court of appeal” for the Montenegrins dissatisfied with Austro-Hungarian military rule and the situation in general.44 42

K. u. K. Ministerium des Äusseren 1917; ÖStA, KA, Militärkanzlei Seiner Majestät (MKSM), Karton 1253, 69–13/23–3 ex 1916, Protokoll des Vortrags des Ministers des Äußern (19 April 1916); ibid., NFA, Karton 1755, Verlautbarungen des k. u. k. MilitärGeneralgouvernements in Montenegro Nr. 62 (17 July 1917), Point 1, and Nr. 63 (20 July 1917), Point1; ibid., HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a, Otto to Czernin, 8 November 1917. 43 See diverse files in ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a. 44 ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a, Faszikel Beschwerden der Militärbehörden gegen den Gesandten Otto September bis Dezember 1916, Wiesner to Rappaport, 27 October 1916.

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The dispute in Cetinje put a heavy strain on the relationship between Foreign Minister Burián and General Conrad. In contrast to Kral’s and Thallóczy’s positions in Albania and Serbia, Otto’s footing in Montenegro was weak. Hubka repeatedly cited Otto’s lack of administrative skills as ­evidence against his qualifications as civil commissioner, and with this strategy, Conrad prevailed against Burián. As early as 27 April 1916, only six weeks after his appointment, Otto was dismissed from his office as civil commissioner. However, he stayed in Cetinje as the foreign minister’s envoy in the MGG/M.45 Burián diplomatically stated that Otto himself had brought about the fact that the civil commissioner mainly had administrative functions, and that the necessary skills could only be gained in regular administrative duty, not in the diplomatic service. Otto was said simply to have the wrong qualifications for the job.46 He was succeeded by Freiherr Paul von Sternbach, a Konzeptsbeamter and favourite candidate of the army’s quartermaster section from the beginning of the dispute,47 as chief civil commissioner. The Tyrolean aristocrat Sternbach was a graduate of the University of Innsbruck. He had studied the special curriculum of juridical-political studies that constituted qualification for the senior administrative service in Austria.48 After his studies, Sternbach had volunteered for military service (as an Einjährig-Freiwilliger) to become a reserve officer, and then entered the Cisleithanian administrative service. He had first served in Trieste, then on various positions in Dalmatia, Vienna and Tyrol.49 By late spring 1916, the personnel issues in Serbia, Albania and ­Montenegro had been resolved. Tisza had prevailed in Serbia, Burián in Albania, Conrad in Montenegro. But very soon, the next controversy broke out between the Hungarians and the AOK about Thallóczy’s relatively weak position as the chief civil commissioner in Serbia.50 About one month after Otto’s resignation as civil commissioner in Montenegro, Tisza lobbied hard to expand Thallóczy’s political influence in Serbia to the detriment of the military administrators preferred by the AOK.51 The Hungarian prime min45

ÖStA, KA, MKSM, Karton 1253, 69–13/23–3 ex 1916, Entschließung der MKSM (20. April 1916). 46 ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a, Telegramme Wiesner to Burián, 27 April 1916; ÖStA, KA, MKSM, Karton 1253, 69–13/23–3 ex 1916, Protokoll des Vortrags des Ministers des Äußern (19 April 1916). 47 ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a, Thurn to Burián, 7 March 1916. 48 Busch 1996, 36–37, and Heindl 1990, 102. 49 Busch 1996, 47–98. 50 See Szabó 2010, 175–177. 51 Fried 2014, 158–159; Arz von Straussenburg 1924, 191. See also ÖStA, KA, MKSM, Karton 1253, 69–15/7–3 ex 1916, 9 July 1916.

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ister feared that General Conrad might prepare to annex Serbia, which could subsequently “destabilize” the fragile Habsburg Empire – a fear already articulated before the war, and even by “unsuspicious” Cisleithanian politicians like Josef Maria Baernreither.52 Foreign Minister Burián again sided with the Hungarians.53 Obviously, the expansion of the chief civil commissioner’s role in Serbia at the expense of the military was in Burián’s interests, too. Moreover, and more important, the foreign minister continued to support Tisza’s anti-annexationism,54 and at the end of July 1916, Conrad was even forced to dispose of the MGG/S’s governor-general Johann Ulrich von Salis-Seewis in favour of Adolf von Rhemen zu Barensfeld.55 In September 1916, the new service regulations regarding the MGG/S augmented the chief civil commissioner’s role, as desired by Tisza and Burián.56 For the first time, Thallóczy was in a relatively strong position towards the military administrators in Serbia. However, Tisza’s and Burián’s triumph in Serbia was short-lived. While returning from a memorial service for the deceased Emperor and King Franz Joseph, Thallóczy was killed in a train accident on 1 December 1916. Under the new monarch Karl, Tisza failed to appoint Thallóczy’s successor in Serbia. He was succeeded by the military’s candidate, the Croat Theodor Kussevich de Blacko, the former head of the construction section of the provincial government of Bosnia and Herzegovina.57 Kussevich was a professional in administrative matters, a Konzeptsbeamter. So whereas in March 1916 only one out of the four chief civil commissioners was a Konzeptsbeamter, less than a year later Kral was the only one who was not. If Sternbach had succeeded Kral in September 1918,58 as had been planned, all four commissioners would have been Konzeptsbeamte.

52 53

54 55 56 57 58

Miyake 1965, 363–364. Fried 2014, 159–160. However, Burián was not as rigorous as the Hungarian prime minister, see Szabó 2010, 175. Fried 2014, 174. Other authors interestingly remark that Rhemen was appointed against Tisza’s objections. See Jansa 2011, 336, footnote 350. ÖStA, KA, AOK, Op.-Abteilung (Evidenzgruppe B), Karton 666, Allgemeine Grundzüge für die k. u. k. Militärverwaltung in Serbien (September 1916). Mitrović 2007, 203. See footnote 33 above.

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District Civil Commissioners (Leitende Zivilkommissäre) and Other Civilian Officials Arguably the most important officials in the civilian administrations in the general governorates and in Albania were not the chief, but the district civil commissioners. They had, in addition to their internal administrative functions, the central responsibility of interfacing with the local population. The district commissioners had to execute, explain and justify political and administrative instructions, report the wishes of the population to the district commanders and influence the population’s mood in accordance with the occupiers’ policy. The district commissioners were the occupiers who had to win the hearts and minds of the occupied. And they and their apparatuses had to arrange with the inherited structures in the given occupation zones: with the administrative structures of the occupied Kingdoms of Serbia and Montenegro in the respective military general governorates, with Imperial Russian structures in Austro-Hungarian occupied Poland, and with Imperial Ottoman and even traditional tribal structures in the North of occupied Albania as well as in some parts of Montenegro’s hinterland. They were “without any doubt the civil administration’s backbone.”59 Compared to the chief civil commissioners, the positions of the district commissioners and other civilian officials in the administrations were less controversial. Nevertheless, these officials had political relevance beyond their formal and immediate sphere of influence. As the quartermaster section of the AOK was formally responsible for all personnel issues in the Austro-Hungarian military administrations, and the foreign ministry as well as the governments of Hungary and Austria usually did not challenge the quartermaster section’s prerogative to appoint district commissioners and other lower officials, the situation seemed to be simple. However, the leading civilian and military dignitaries within the military administrations articulated their interests and opinions (see Figure 2).

59

Hausner 1935, 330.

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Figure 2: Main factors and influences on the appointment of medium and low-ranking officials in the Austro-Hungarian occupied territories60

Thus, via the chief civil commissioners the governments of Austria and Hungary were again at least indirectly involved in personnel issues. In the case of Albania, the influence of the foreign ministry was exceptionally strong. As a result of Kral’s twin-function as chief commissioner and envoy of the foreign ministry, several more consular officials were appointed to various major posts in occupied Albania. Consequently, after the administrative reforms in Albania in the summer of 1916, four out of six district civil commissioners were officials from the foreign ministry, while the other two were Cisleithanian Konzeptsbeamte.61

60

The special role of XIXth Corps headquarters in Albania is not visualized, apart from mentioning the corps commander. 61 Schwanke 1982, 541–543.

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The formal qualifications for civil servants in the military administrations were not clearly defined. Therefore, a huge variety of officials was appointed to posts in the occupied territories: 1) Bureaucrats – often Konzeptsbeamte – from the ministries and authorities of Austria-Hungary, Austria, Hungary, and Bosnia and Herzegovina as well as from the autonomous levels of administration down to the communes 2) Judges and prosecutors 3) Police officers 4) Deputies from the various parliaments in Austria and Hungary, including municipal councillors 5) Diplomats and consular officials 6) University and school teachers However, legal experts with administrative experience – typically Konzeptsbeamte – proved to be ideally qualified for duties in the military administrations, especially in the function of district civil commissioner, as argued above, the most important administrators in the occupied territories. As a consequence, the civilian branches of the military administrations professionalized in the course of the occupation, as eligible officials remained in tenure, while less qualified civil servants were sooner or later replaced by better candidates. Nevertheless, the advantages of Austro-Hungarian legally trained experts in the military administrations should not be overestimated, since the pre-occupational civil law remained in force. When combining the figures of chief and district civil commissioners in Serbia and Montenegro, the quota of Konzeptsbeamte, most often volunteering for service in the military administration, continually increased from less than 60 percent in March 1916 to almost 85 percent in September 1917 (see Figure 3). In 1918, however, the ratio decreased. Though exempted from army physicals, several able-bodied officials nevertheless volunteered for military service – hardly a surprise, when the self-image of the civil servant as loyal bearers of the Habsburg Empire and its institutions is taken into account.

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Figure 3: Combined numbers of Konzeptsbeamte as chief civil commissioners (Zivillandes­ kommissäre) and district civil commissioners (Leitende Zivilkommissäre) in the Austro-­ Hungarian military general governorates in Serbia and in Montenegro from March 1916 to March 191862

Initially, it was planned to appoint civil officials of ranks (Rangsklassen)63 VIII, IX and X as political administrators on the district level.64 Therefore, the most common former positions of the district commissioners in Austria, Hungary, and Bosnia and Herzegovina were county prefect (Bezirksvorsteher) and governorate secretary (Statthaltereisekretär). However, sometimes more senior officials became district commissioners following political decisions. The influential Croat Adolf Cuvaj de Ivanska – department councillor (Sektionsrat, rank VI) in the government of Bosnia and Herzegovina – was

62

Österreichische Nationalbibliothek (ÖNB), Kartensammlung, K II 96774 (K. u. k. MilitärGeneralgouvernement in Serbien und k. u. k. Militär-Gouvernement in Montenegro, 10 May 1916), 101757 (25 September 1916), 96777 (15 January 1917), 96780 (1 June 1917), 96775 (16 September 1917), and 101753 (March 1918). Data for March 1916 from diverse files in ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a and Liasse Krieg 49 d, Einzelne Verwaltungsmaßnahmen 1916–1918. 63 All civil servants were organized hierarchically into eleven ranks (Rangsklassen) according to their positions within the administrative and judicial system. The rank not only defined the salary, but also further privileges like subsidies for living quarters, heating or clothing, travel arrangements or the right to a professional uniform to be worn on specific occasions. The rank was crucial for status within the civil service and in society at large. 64 ÖStA, KA, AOK, Op.-Abteilung (Evidenzgruppe B), Karton 666, Allgemeine Grundzüge für die k. u. k. Militärverwaltung in Montenegro (March 1916), Appendix 3.

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appointed, for example, to this position in the politically, strategically and economically important district of Belgrade county.65 The second central requirement for civil servants to serve in the occupied territories was knowledge of the local languages. The only formal language requirement for the officials, though, was command of the working language of the Austro-Hungarian armed forces – German. Nevertheless, administrators were to have a command of the local languages in the occupied territories,66 as this was necessary to fulfil their responsibility of interfacing with the local population. In accordance with the Austrian claims on Poland, the Hungarian claims on Serbia and Budapest’s disinterest in ­Montenegro, almost all Konzeptsbeamte in Poland were ethnic Poles from the ­Cisleithanian province of Galicia. In Serbia, there were many Croats and a few Serbs from Croatia-Slavonia as well as some Serbs from Hungarian Vojvodina, while several Croats from the Cisleithanian provinces of Dalmatia and Istria served in Montenegro. Additionally, some Croats, ­ Serbs, and ­Bosniaks (Bosnian Muslims) from Bosnia and Herzegovina67 served in ­Montenegro and Serbia. However, most officials from Bosnia and ­Herzegovina serving in Serbia were originally from Hungary proper or ­Croatia-Slavonia. The Konzeptsbeamte serving in Albania mainly came from Austria. Finally, all district civil commissioners in Poland were ethnic Poles, whereas in Serbia and Montenegro around 40 percent of the district commissioners were ethnic South Slavs, mostly Catholic Croats serving in Orthodox Serbia and Montenegro (see Figure 4). In Montenegro, all district commissioners and most Konzeptsbeamte in other functions spoke Serbo-Croatian as their native tongue or on a high level, while, at the same time, only 53 percent of the senior military officers in Montenegro spoke the local language.68

65

ÖNB Wien, Kartensammlung, K II 101753. Polish and Ukrainian in Poland, Serbo-Croatian and Albanian in Serbia as well as in Montenegro, Albanian in occupied Albania. 67 Until 1910, academic education was the only requirement for Konzeptsbeamte in the ­Bosnian and Herzegovinian provincial government. After that year, they had to pass a special written and oral exam (Dienstprüfung) as well (Schmid 1914, 60). 68 ÖStA, KA, AOK, Quartiermeister-Abteilung, Karton 2581, Verzeichnis der im ­Bereiche des Militärgeneralgouvernements in Montenegro eingeteilten Generale, ­Stabsoffiziere und Hauptleute, Abteilungskommandanten des Soldatenstandes, December 1917, 18 March 1918, and 19 September 1918. 66

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Figure 4: Share of district civil commissioners in the Austro-Hungarian military general ­governorates in Poland, Serbia, and Montenegro as well as in the Austro-Hungarian occupation zone in Albania speaking at least one local language as native tongue (early 1918)69

This linguistic-geographical distribution resulted in a kind of homogeneity within the civil branches of the administrations of the occupied territories: Konzeptsbeamte from Cisleithania were among themselves in Poland, and dominating in Montenegro and Albania, while Serbia was mainly administered by Transleithanian civil servants. Thus, contacts and therefore conflicts were rare between administrative officials from Austria and Hungary within the occupied territories. If the Austro-Hungarian antagonism became relevant in the occupied territories, the conflict was brought there by the combat troops: in the Cisleithanian administered MGG/M, for example, the fighting units were mainly from Hungary.70 Or the conflict was brought there from outside, typically directly from the government in Budapest or from ­Hungarian civilian officials and military officers travelling

69

Ethnic Poles in all districts, ethnic Ukrainians in the eastern districts of the MGG/P; ethnic Serbs, Croats, Bosniaks and Slovenians in all districts of the MGG/S and the MGG/M; ethnic Albanians in occupied Albania as well as in the Albanian districts of the MGG/S and the MGG/M. See ÖNB Wien, Kartensammlung, K II 101753; ÖStA, KA, AOK, Generalstab, Karton 903, Gliederung und Personaleinteilung des k. u. k. MilitärGeneralgouvernements in Montenegro mit 1. Januar 1918; on Albania, Schwanke 1982, 538–545; on Poland Hausner 1935, 330. Additional biographical research, ethnic and language proficiency attribution by the author. 70 See footnote 68 above.

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through ­Montenegro or Albania.71 Another problem, closely connected to the ­Austro–Hungarian antagonism, could not be resolved: the chronic shortage of qualified Hungarian-speakers in the Austrian part of the Habsburg Empire. In combination with the successful Hungarian claim that the military administrations had to process not only documents in German and the dominant local languages, but also those written in Hungarian, this led to a dramatic shortage of Hungarian-speaking officials in the occupied territories.72 ­Serbia was the only military administration with enough Hungarian-speakers to ­fulfil Budapest’s high demands. In Poland, Montenegro and Albania, there were simply too few officials able to read and write Hungarian. Obviously, all appeals and protests from Budapest could not change this matter. Moreover, another language problem could not be solved, too: there were almost no Albanian-speakers in the administrative bodies of the Dual Monarchy. At least in occupied Albania, this shortage could be bypassed by diplomatic and consular personnel from the foreign ministry with basic knowledge of Albanian or at least Ottoman Turkish. In Serbia and especially Montenegro, the situation remained desolate. The obvious employment of ethnic Albanians speaking Serbo-Croatian73 proved counter-productive, as many Albanians felt offended by even the slightest sign of “Slavicization”.74 However, this was a problem restricted to specific districts. In ­general, since the civilian officials had volunteered to serve in the occupied territories, they had a good command of at least one local language. Additionally, the civilian officials – especially Konzeptsbeamte – stayed longer than their military counterparts. The district commanders and their deputies were often transferred to the military administrations because they were not fit to serve at the front. Once convalescence in the administrative service in the rear echelon area was over, the officers were ordered back to the front. Furthermore, promotions in the military were often combined with a new post in a fighting unit. Thus, military officers in the occupied territories were often old, ill, wounded and disillusioned, while their civilian colleagues, exempted from army physicals, were frequently highly ambitious to fulfil their duties. Whereas just one of the 19 military district commanders in 71

See, for example, ÖStA, KA, NFA, Karton 1721, Reservat-Verlautbarungen des k. u. k. Militär-Generalgouvernements in Montenegro Nr. 4 (16 January 1917), Point 1, or ibid., Verlautbarungen des k. u. k. Militär-Generalgouvernements in Montenegro Nr. 49 (8 June 1917), Point 3. 72 ÖStA, KA, NFA, Karton 1755, Verlautbarungen des k. u. k. Militär-Generalgouvernements in Montenegro Nr. 29 (28 March 1918), Point 7. 73 For observations relating to this topic, see Bertele & Wacker 2004, 471. 74 Schwanke 1982, 432.

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­ erbia and ­Montenegro in May 1916 was still at his post in March 1918, nine S district civil commissioners had been continuously in office (see Figure 5).

Figure 5: Senior military and civilian district officials in the Austro-Hungarian military ­general governorates in Serbia and Montenegro, officials in service in May 1916 compared to officials in service in March 191875

Conclusions It is impossible to give precise estimations on the total figures of the numbers of the military and civilian personnel in the Austro-Hungarian military administrations during the First World War.76 A rough approximation suggests about 350 high-ranking civilian officials serving at the top and district levels in Poland, Serbia, Montenegro and occupied Albania combined in September 1917, about 250 of them Konzeptsbeamte. A low number, especially when compared with the estimated more than 2,500 military officers (Offiziere and Militärbeamte) in administrative functions on the same levels.77 75

ÖNB Wien, Kartensammlung, K II 96774 and 101753. Scheer 2009, 59. 77 Estimation based on detailed figures from Montenegro and fragmentary information on Poland, Serbia, and Albania. The figures are calculated by the arithmetic mean of a ­linear projection of the known personnel figures by total population, area, and numbers of administrative units of the occupied territories. Sub-district and communal levels are not included in the estimation. It can be assumed, though, that the figure of military officers on the sub-district level was comparable to the combined figure of military officers on 76

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Despite these low figures, Konzeptsbeamte had a central role and fulfilled key functions in all four Austro-Hungarian military administrations examined in this article. Their special position and relevance can be described and partially explained by six parameters: 1. Loyalty: in general, they were loyal servants of the Habsburg dynasty, and their actions were aimed at the survival of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and/or Austria and Hungary. 2. Voluntariness: most of them were volunteers. 3. Professionalism: due to their academic education and their administrative experiences, they were the most competent administrators in the occupied territories. 4. Language proficiency: the majority spoke at least one local language. 5. Ethnic affiliation: though for most, the primary loyalty was to the transnational concept of the Habsburg Empire,78 ethnicity mattered; especially in Poland, but partly also in Serbia and Montenegro, many Konzeptsbeamte were affiliated to local ethnic groups – for better or for worse. 6. Continuity in office: on average, they stayed longer in the military administrations then most other civilian, not to mention the highly fluctuating military personnel. The local population in the occupied territories of Poland, Serbia, ­Montenegro and Albania soon regarded the district civil commissioners – who were often Konzeptsbeamte framed by the mentioned parameters – as the central authorities for complaints about the military administrations. Their formal responsibility to interface with the population, their professional distance to the dominating military and their formal and actual administrative qualifications (usually higher than those of the military administrators) combined with a typically good command of the local language gave them a high reputation among the occupied population – at least a higher reputation than the military officers. All these factors were augmented by the fact that many Konzeptsbeamte remained longer in their positions than most of their military counterparts. This continuity in office helped to establish a trusting relationship between the occupied population and the civil servants. Sometimes the Konzeptsbeamte adapted fairly well to the local patronage networks, which was a huge problem especially in Montenegro as well as in the top and district levels. For the communal level, there are no reliable and comparable figures. 78 Basically, the typical Konzeptsbeamte was “schwarz-gelb bis in die Knochen”, as the later Austrian prime minister and governor-general in Montenegro, Count Heinrich Clam-Martinic, characterized himself in 1913. Höglinger 1964, 64.

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Albania. The good relation between the high-ranking civil administrators and the widespread cronyism often led to tensions between civilian and military administrators. While forced to salute one another by army regulations,79 conflicts about competences and the approach towards the local population became a common occurrence between military and civil officials. While the military complained about the softness of civil servants, who would even incite the population to turn on the military, civil administrators accused the military of sabotaging their administrative efforts.80 The ethnic affiliation of the Konzeptsbeamte, often facilitating communication with the occupied, proved to be a mixed blessing. In the general governorate in Poland, the ethnic Polish officials in the civil administration, following their own nationalist agenda, overruled the demands of the Ukrainian population.81 Also in Serbia and Montenegro, the communication between occupiers and occupied was no problem due to the occupiers’ language proficiency. But, all the same problems emerged from tensions between the Orthodox Serb population and the mainly Catholic Croat administrators appointed there.82 Even the appointment of a civil servant of Orthodox faith and Serb ethnicity in the mainly Orthodox and Serb district of Kolašin in Montenegro could provoke major complications.83 Despite all problems and tensions, the cooperation between the military and civil branches of the Austro-Hungarian military administrations was surprisingly smooth and effective in most cases. Of importance in this context was the fact that the Konzeptsbeamte knew the military well, also from the inside: all of them transferred into the Austro-Hungarian occupation zones in Poland, Serbia, Montenegro or Albania were reserve officers of the Austrian Landwehr or the Hungarian Honvéd. The greatest administrative problem for the Austro-Hungarian occupied territories, however, arose in 1918, when it became increasingly impossible to find voluntary Konzeptsbeamte with adequate language proficiency. Loyal 79 80 81

82

83

ÖStA, KA, NFA, Karton 1689, Verlautbarungen des k. u. k. Militär-Generalgouvernements in Montenegro Nr. 81 (19 December 1916), Point 2. Hausner 1935, 330–331. Hausner 1935, 65–66. There is no explicit reference to Bosniak civil servants in the military administrations. However, many Bosniaks served as non-commissioned officers in the Gendarmerie in Serbia and Montenegro, with many problems related to their background. See, for example, ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 997, Liasse Krieg 49 a, Otto to Czernin, 18 October 1917. An example is the controversial role of the Bosnian Serb Miloš Ljeskovac, formerly a Konzeptsbeamter in Bosnia-Herzegovina, in the Vešović affair in June 1916. Ljeskovac probably incited the Montenegrin armed resistance single-handedly, see Rakočević 1969, 317–318, esp. footnote 56.

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to the Habsburg Empire and often driven by a traditional – you could call it antiquated – sense of honour and chivalrousness, many higher civil servants decided in late 1917 and early 1918 to serve the Monarchy with the sword instead of the pen. Thus, more and more of them fought at the front instead of administering the Empire they were attempting to defend. When the professional bureaucrats began to go to war in the literal sense, the civil branches of the military administrations simply ran out of qualified personnel. In August 1918, the administrative bodies were on the verge of collapse. In a highly symbolic joint effort in Montenegro, Governor-General Count Heinrich Clam-Martinic, Chief Civil Commissioner Arthur von Schmidt-Zabiérow and the Envoy of the Foreign Ministry, Otto, desperately requested the transfer of a minimum of seven Konzeptsbeamte to maintain at least the most basic administrative functions. Despite the fact that the AOK and the foreign ministry supported the request – a rare and remarkable occurrence – it took a full month to identify just a single candidate, Dr. Anton Friedl, a young county commissary (Bezirkskommissär) serving in the Common Ministry of War in Vienna. Friedl, though, was never transferred to Montenegro.84 And a few weeks later, the Habsburg Empire had ceased to exist.

84

ÖStA, HHStA, PA I, Karton 996, Liasse Krieg 49 a, Arz to Gayer (9 August 1918), ­Simonelli to Burián (9 September 1918).

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The Conduct of Life of Austrian Civilian Government ­Employees in the First Republic Therese Garstenauer Outline John Boyer’s remark that “much of the modern scholarly history of the First Republic in Austria remains to be written”1 is still valid after more than eight years. It certainly applies to the history of civilian government employees,2 a multifaceted socio-professional group that is crucial for understanding Austrian mentality, society, and politics.3 To this end, it is indispensable to extend the research focus by including members of lower administrative ranks and analysing less obvious sources. In this paper, I will first take a look at the state of research and then discuss what is special and interesting about Austrian civilian government employees in the First Republic. The questions as to who they were and how many of them there were in the 1920s and 1930s will be addressed. The term conduct of life (Lebensführung) of civilian government employees will be briefly introduced, serving, on the one hand, as a theoretical concept deriving from Max Weber’s historical and sociological writings. On the other hand, it is also an in-vivo code (“concepts used by the participants in the research rather than being named by the analyst”4), used by contemporaries in the early 20th century with regard to government employees. The question of conduct of life deemed befitting such an employee (standesgemäße Lebensführung) is closely connected to the specific employment relationship between the state and its employees. If these employees failed to live up to the required standards of conduct during service hours or in private life, they had to face disciplinary consequences. 1 2

3 4

Boyer 2010, 15. I use the term that Gary B. Cohen has suggested in the workshop in Vienna instead of civil servants which is, in his opinion a little too vague. It also includes employees who are not Beamte in a narrower sense. Since I exclude military personnel from my research focus, I will use the term “government employees” synonymously. Heindl 2013b, 282. Corbin & Strauss 2008, 65.

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Another issue which could also bring about conflict with a government employee’s proper way of life concerned the ways in which they became politically active in the First Republic. Gary B. Cohen has addressed some new topics in the investigation of administration in the late Habsburg Empire and the post-war years, among these the relationship between govern­ments and citizens under the conditions of an evolving civil society.5 On the one hand, government employees were part of the state apparatus and thus representatives of the state, on the other hand, the state was their employer, with whom they negotiated and fought over matters pertaining to salaries, pensions and employment laws, sometimes to the point of striking, or at least threatening to go on strike. Political activities by government ­employees on the individual level, especially when these were affiliated to party politics, could be prosecuted if these activities were found to be incommensurate with the honour of the office. Government employees were ­supposed to be non-partisan during service hours. In private life, they were not meant overtly to support parties working against the government. In the final years of the First Republic, political activities by government employees were prosecuted more harshly. Finally, disciplinary files will be discussed with regard to their potential as a source for investigating the conduct of life of civilian government employees. I will present examples from a sample taken from files of the supreme commission for disciplinary procedures (Diszipli­ nar­oberkommission). Research on civilian government employees in Austria in the interwar period While there are substantial monographs on civilian government employees during the Habsburg Monarchy,6 there is still the need for a major work addressing the period between the world wars. It is also striking that, whereas there are several monographs on government employees in the ­Weimar Republic and on the effects of inflation on German civil servants,7 there is no comparable literature devoted to their Austrian counterparts. This may be due to less public discourse on the role and fate of government employees in Austria as compared with Germany.8 Two articles by Walter Goldinger and Waltraud Heindl provide useful introductions to the subject,9 and several 5 6 7 8 9

Cohen 49–51 in this volume. Megner 1985 and 2010; Heindl 2013a and b. Fattmann 2001; Kunz 1986. Enderle-Burcel & Jeřabek 2011, 28. Goldinger 1983; Heindl 1995.

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unpublished dissertations have tackled aspects of this research area. These include the income of government employees between 1914 and 1949, their legal, social and economic situation between 1914 and 1924, Viennese municipal employees’ resilience in times of political change between 1933 and 1950, and the political persecution of government employees in the ­Austrian corporate state.10 The post-1918 chapter of John Deak’s dissertation, which deals with the Austrian civil service between 1848 and 1925, focuses on administrative reform, Chancellor Seipel’s negotiations with the League of Nations, and also includes a biographical sketch of Egbert Mannlicher, a crucial protagonist in matters of administrative reform.11 One biographical handbook deals with the highest officials in ministries (Sektionschefs) from 1918 to 1945.12 Gernot Stimmer’s substantial study of elites in Austria from 1848–1970 provides prosopographic data on senior officials, including university teachers and diplomats.13 A volume devoted to the biographies and careers of higher government employees at the provincial level focuses on changes that occurred as a result of political events in 1918, 1933 and 1938.14 Although some regional variations can be observed, the conclusion is that continuity was rather the rule and change rather the exception in terms of political purges of government employees in the provinces. Karl Megner’s latest monograph on Vienna as a metropolis of civilian government employees from 1500 to 1938 provides a cross-epochal overview, where the interwar period represents just one of many eras.15 The most recent publication by Heindl on government employees in the late Habsburg Monarchy (1848–1914) addresses some issues that are at the centre of my research, including life style, conduct and consumption, and furthermore references Pierre Bourdieu’s concepts of habitus and social capital. Her findings, though referring to the period before 1918, ­suggest that there was an awareness of status (Standesbewusstsein) among government employees in the early 20th century.16 Peter Melichar published an informative article, rich in content and details about various aspects of state administration during the interwar period, which includes a discussion

10 11

12 13 14 15 16

Kosian 1950; Feiler 1965; Hafner 1990; Sedlak 2004. Deak 2009, 393–432. These last parts are not included in the published version (Deak 2015). Enderle-Burcel & Follner 1997. Stimmer 1997. Weber & Schuster 2011. Megner 2010, 319–350. Heindl 2013b.

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of changes in the participation of female personnel in the civil service.17 While there is indeed some scholarship on the subject of civilian government employees in the early 20th century, studies which address the social and cultural history of state servants rarely focus on the post-1918 period. Those that concentrate on the First Republic are primarily interested in political history or in the more elite ranks of the civil service. Summing up, there is a need to fill a gap in Austrian social and cultural history, and to this end the inclusion of groups of civilian government employees, who were not in the higher administrative ranks (or otherwise considered elite), will be of paramount importance. Civilian government employees – Service to the state Service to the state is a special kind of livelihood.18 It is not centred on the exchange of labour for wages but represents rather a peculiar arrangement. Otto Hintze cites the two traditions from which the modern civil service originated, both dating back to the feudal system. These were, on the one hand, servants belonging to the house of a lord and, on the other, “hired doctors” or jurists whose specialized services were called upon only intermittently.19 The civilian government employees placed themselves and their entire personalities at the disposal of their employer. They were appointed and swore an oath of allegiance to that employer. They were obliged to live up to the standards of honour of the function in every sphere of life: professional, political, and private. Failure to do so could result in disciplinary consequences. The employer, for his part, was charged with looking after the employee. This stipulated that the employer was responsible for the sustenance of the employee and his dependents through the principle of alimentation (Alimentationsprinzip). The profession of a government employee implied a career and a development towards advancement (higher rank, higher income). The career principle (Laufbahnprinzip) resulted in an automatic increase in income unrelated to the individual performance. Government employees were entitled to a title (Amtstitel) denoting their rank, which constituted a lifetime entitlement that followed them into retirement. These principles have been summarized in the German customary tenets of civil service (Hergebrachte Grundsätze des Berufsbeamtentums), referred to in the current German constitution and for the most part also applicable

17

Melichar 2013. Weber 1980, 552f. 19 Hintze 1981. 18

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to Austria.20 This relatively privileged situation with lifelong tenure, rising income and a secure pension developed in order to ensure the government employee’s lasting loyalty to the state, to reduce the temptation of corruption and to benefit from the experiential knowledge of long-serving personnel. Over the period investigated in my research, we find remnants of the feudal tradition as well as characteristics of a modern, rationalized bureaucracy.21 The principle of alimentation was explicitly discussed by politicians and activists of the civilian government employees’ movement in the 1920s, making plain the critical situation of the relationship between the state and its employees at the time. During the World War and even more so in times of high inflation, this principle gained special importance insofar as the allowances (Zulagen) that were to compensate for the loss of value of fixed income, were not sufficient, even though they were scaled not only according to the rank of the recipients, but also according to their marital status and the number of children they had to care for.22 Egbert Mannlicher, a senior official in the Austrian chancellery and a member of the so-called Commission on Retrenchment (Ersparungskommission) established in 1921 – the “architect of the First Republic’s major downsizing of the bureaucratic apparatus”23 – criticized the attitude of government employees in a presentation to the Commission in the early 1920s: Regrettable as it may be, it is a fact not to be denied that the employment of state employees is currently often understood not as a two-sided legal relationship on an equal basis with equivalent duties and rights, but rather as a one-sided legal relationship with the primary duty of the state to fend for the state employee and the secondary duty of the state employee to perform work, and in that sense the state’s duty of alimentation (Alimentationspflicht) towards its employees has necessarily become the prevailing idea.24

As Megner has highlighted, the controversies between those who wanted to see the remuneration of government employees based primarily on hierarchical principles and those who insisted on a prevalence of the principle of alimentation mark fundamentally different ideas about social values.25

20 21 22 23

24

25

On the exception of the right to strike, see 224–225 of this essay. Kuzmics & Axtmann 2007, 254; Weber 1980, 551–597. Naderer 1927, 17–18. Deak 2009, 418. Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Archiv der Republik (ÖStA, AdR), Staatskanzlei, Varia, Ersparungskommission. Report by Dr. Egbert Mannlicher, Grundlegende Richtlinien für die Behandlung der Frage des Beamtenabbaues, not dated, probably 1921. Megner 2010, 331.

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Who were the civilian government employees in the First Republic, and how many of them were there? Cohen has pointed out the increasing differentiation and specialization of civilian government employees with the growth in state services in the late Habsburg Monarchy.26 There was a wide variety within this group, differing in qualifications, status, income and functions. This group included officials in the ministries, diplomats, teachers at universities, colleges, secondary and elementary schools, employees of the provincial and municipal authorities, in postal and railway services as well as the staff of state-owned enterprises and monopolies.27 It is virtually impossible to specify the exact number of government employees in the early 1920s, as contemporary statisticians have lamented.28 It is safe to say that they accounted for a considerable portion of society. In 1923, government employees, including pensioners, and their dependents amounted to one seventh of the Austrian population.29 ­Melichar has made the effort to collect and compare the figures given in various sources, often incompatible with one another because of different classifications: some include, others exclude the armed forces; some include only civil servants (Beamte) proper, others include workers and contract employees (Vertragsbedienstete) as well.30 The total number of civilian government employees in 1922 is specified to be about 208,000 in the Viennese weekly Die Börse.31 According to this source, employees of the central administration accounted for 14% of the total number, while the largest group (nearly 40%) were workers and employees of the state railways. A publication by the Austrian F ­ ederal Statistical Office counts considerably more, i.e. 290,517 government employees in 1921. By August 1924, this number had been reduced by 79,334, or 27.3%.32 In his discussion on the outcome of the stabilization of the ­Austrian economy, Minister of Finance Viktor Kienböck indicates the number of 245,615 government employees in 1922, reduced to 208,500 in 1925.33 There is yet another source that comes from the League of Nations. According to their reports, of 277,752 government employees in 1922, only

26 27

28 29

30 31 32 33

Cohen 54–58 in this volume. Melichar 2013, 48. Dorer 1922, 7; Madlé 1921, 2. Madlé 1925, 132. Melichar 2013, 43–51. Dorer 1922, 8. Melichar 2013, 45. Kienböck 1925, 55.

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182,777 remained four years later.34 It is not indicated where these numbers originated from, but the downsizing by nearly 100,000 persons comes close to the numbers stipulated by the League of Nations as a condition for granting a loan to the Austrian Republic. Table 1: Synopsis of the numbers in various sources Source

1921

1922

1924 (Reduction compared with 1921)

1925 (Reduction compared with 1922)

Die Börse / Dorer

-

207,622

-

-

Federal Statistical Office

290,517

211,183 (27.3%)

-

Kienböck

-

245,614

-

171,717 (30.1%)

League of Nations

-

277,752

-

182,777 (34.2%)

Whether it is due to the incompetence of the state bureaucracy35 or to resistance by government employees against being registered statistically,36 the numbers differ considerably. All sources, however, show that the reductions in personnel were greater within the groups of railway workers and employees, and employees of state-owned enterprises (around 30%), as compared with the central administration (around 20%). After the substantial reductions following the demands by the League of Nations, we can see that railway personnel was cut even more, whereas the number of employees was quite stable in the central administration, state-owned enterprises and monopolies. The armed forces even increased in number after 1933. 17.5% of all civilian government employees in 1910 were women, compared to 22% in 1934.37 So we can assume that in the 1920s about one fifth of all government employees were female. They very rarely held positions in higher administration, since women were not admitted to study law at Austrian universities prior to 1919. Furthermore, they were allowed to take the exams necessary for entering senior positions only in 1927.38 The 1933 directory of Austrian government offices (Österreichischer Amts-Kalender) lists 62 women in senior positions, 35 of them with doctorates (nine medical doctors, five doctors of law, two doctors of political science and nineteen 34

Société des Nations 1926, 132–133. Dorer 1922, 7. 36 Melichar 2013, 47. 37 Fehrer 1989, quoted in Melichar 2013, 52. 38 Zentralverein 1933, 46f.

35

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Diagram 1: Number of government employees 1925–1935 by professional groups

doctors of philosophy). All were employed in fields associated with typically “female” work: public welfare, education and social services.39 Conduct of Life Conduct of life (Lebensführung) is a concept that derives from Max Weber’s sociology of religion.40 Weber himself never explicitly defined ­conduct of life, yet it is a crucial term in his work. It can be understood as ­representing “the actual conduct of a group of people as valorized by them.”41 Unlike lifestyle, it also has an ethical dimension. In this essay, conduct of life serves to describe and explain the appropriate behaviour of a social group (standesgemäße Lebensführung). Heinz Abels argues that through such conduct of life individuals assure one another and mutually acknowledge that they rightfully belong to the group, while conveying to outsiders where their boundaries are.42 Apart from the theoretical aspect of the term, it was at the same time used in contemporary discourse. Towards the end of the World War, the Neues ­Wiener Journal talked about the allowance for accommodation (Wohnungszu39

Melichar 2013, 51f. Weber 2015, 8. 41 Swedberg 2005, 150. 42 Abels 2006, 206. 40

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lage) for government employees in order to provide them with appropriate (standesgemäß) housing.43 Two years earlier, the women’s supplement to the Grazer Tagblatt had voiced the needs of surviving dependents of government employees: “We widows and orphans, whose spouses and fathers have spent their lives in service to the state, have the right to an appropriate conduct of life and strive for an adequate education for our children as well as creating possibilities to earn a livelihood.”44 Whereas it is not a prerogative of this group to maintain norms and conceptions that relate to behaviour and proper life conduct, it is particularly relevant to government employees for one reason: behaving in a manner commensurate with the maintenance of the state reputation is part and parcel of their employment code. Organized political agency of civilian government employees The history of a civilian government employees’ movement in the First Republic has yet to be written from a scholarly perspective, although some aspects have been covered in studies on the history of trade unions.45 The historian can draw on more or less contemporary accounts authored by members of this movement. Typically, these are heroic stories of brave persons and/or organizations championing the rights of their impoverished fellow government employees. In these accounts, the adversaries were wartime profiteers, the “cruel”46 Commissioner General of the League of Nations as well as Ministers of Finance who kept ignoring the needs of the employees due to lack of funds, or because of the reluctance to allot some of these funds to alleviate their hardship. The government employees, these authors stressed, had to shoulder the main burden of the recovery of the Austrian economy in the 1920s, since the League of Nations demanded a massive reduction of the state apparatus as a condition for the loan of 1922. Hans Naderer, a Catholic journalist and writer, penned a series of articles about the history of the Austrian government employees’ movement with a special focus on the development of remuneration. The articles were published in the Jahrbuch der österreichischen Beamtenschaft (Yearbook of the Austrian Public Employees), published by the Reichsverband der öffentlich Angestellten Österreichs.47 The author, who served as head of the Reichsverband’s press office, covered the period from the earliest organizations in the 1860s 43

Neues Wiener Journal, 23 August 1918. Grazer Tagblatt, 9 April 1916 (supplement Deutsche Frauenzeitung). 45 Grössl 1975; Klenner & Pellar 1999. 46 Naderer 1930, 37: Commissioner General Alfred Zimmermann pursued his mission, the reduction of the number of government employees, “in a relentless, almost cruel way.” 47 Naderer 1927–1932. 44

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until 1928 in meticulous detail and with outspoken partisanship for his organization and its members. The movement’s history from 1928 to 1932 was then described by Gustav Senger in the following volumes of the same publication.48 After World War II, Gustav Blenk, the librarian of the Austrian parliament, published a series of articles on the government employees in the First Republic for the union of government employees’ journal Der öffent­ lich Angestellte (The Public Employee), drawing on Naderer and Senger as well as other sources, like newspapers and minutes of parliamentary sessions.49 Like Naderer, Blenk had been a contemporary witness and activist of the movement whose chronicle he wrote. From the 1860s on, a large number of government employees’ organizations formed, merged and disbanded, divided by their professional or regional features. This phenomenon was not specific to Austria, but took place in many European countries at the time.50 Some of these organizations developed into trade unions or similar bodies defending the rights of government employees vis-à-vis the government. In 1900, the Zentralverband der österreichischen Staatsbeamtenvereine (Central Organization of Austrian State Employees’ Associations) was formed as an umbrella organization in order to have a stronger bargaining position for negotiations with the government. It became the most influential non-partisan organization representing government employees’ interests. In 1923, it merged with the organizations of academically trained government employees and was renamed Reichsverband der öffentlich Angestellten Österreichs. With 30,000 members, it was also the largest organization. Whereas activities in these organizations were sometimes a cause for disciplinary procedures before 1918,51 in the First Republic government employees made full use of their freedom of association and formed new advocacy groups: the Socialist Bund der sozialistischen Angestellten (1919, later renamed Bund der öffentlichen Angestellten) with 21,000 members in 1921; the Christian Social trade union Gewerkschaft christlicher Angestellter in öffentlichen Diensten (1919) with an average of 8,000 members, and the German Nationalist Verband der großdeutschen Angestellten in öffentlichen Diensten (1921; since 1922 Deutscher Beamtenverband), with 3000 members in 1923.52 Members of these organizations, the Reichsverband and some smaller groups representing special employees like the armed forces and the police formed a joint committee, the so-called 48

Senger 1933–1934. Blenk 1951–1953. 50 Kunz 1986, 97. 51 Naderer 1927, 38. 52 Naderer 1929, 40; for the membership, see Grössl 1975, 335–344, and Botz 1977, 114. 49

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25er Ausschuss, in 1923, which became the most important negotiating party with the government until the collapse of the committee in 1931.53 In 1919, there had been an inquiry (Enquete zur Feststellung der Wünsche der Staatsangestellten) concerning the wishes of government employees in the new Austrian Republic, in which the question of an official representation through a chamber of government employees with obligatory membership had been addressed. However, due to the fragmented character of the movement, no decision was reached. Some of the organizations were against a chamber because they feared becoming superfluous once such an institution had been established.54 The main activities of the government employees’ movement were the struggle for decent incomes and pensions in times of high inflation and the fight against the reduction of the state apparatus. Such a reduction was on the agenda of the young republic already before the League of Nations’ loan of 1922. In 1919, a document of the Inter-Ministerial Committee for Matters of Government Employees (zwischenstaatsamtliches Komitee für Staatsbe­ dienstetenangelegenheiten) stated: Since a considerable reduction of the number of employees is indispensable due to the financial situation of the state, no more personnel than required to cover real needs may be employed. Furthermore, as soon as possible the numbers and types of government employment positions must be reduced to the necessary minimum through simplification of the institutions of administration in all branches of service and of the demands on the administration, thereby realizing the principle of fewer, but better paid government employees.55

Despite such declarations, no simplification or other reform of the institutions was realized at that time. The reduction of the state apparatus took on momentum only with demands from outside, i.e. the requirements of the League of Nations. The ensuing problematic constellation of the state versus its employees was referred to by Mannlicher in his report to the Ersparungskommission: The main difficulty lies in the fact that in a time of such reduced and constantly declining state authority measures must be taken that would present an enormous trial of strength for the state even under normal circumstances. Special momentum resides in the fact that those against whom the measures must be directed are at the same time those factors in the state that have themselves to function as organs of state authority. What could shed a more 53

Senger 1934, 171. Naderer 1928, 44–46. 55 Verhandlungsschriften Nr. 1 bis 25 zu den Sitzungen des zwischenstaatlichen Komitees für Staatsbedienstetenangelegenheiten (Streng vertraulich, nur für den Amtsgebrauch), Wien 1919. 54

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glaring light on the situation in this respect than e.g. the fact that the Federal Ministry of Finance itself – the very central authority that is […] first and foremost interested in a reduction of the hypertrophy of government employees – has not been able until today to enforce on its own lower authorities adherence to the statutory seven-hour working day!

Mannlicher stressed the increasing political clout of unionized government employees: In clear opposition to the significantly decreased authority of the state […] – this must not be overlooked either – due to its consolidated organization since the change [in 1918] the collectivity of state employees itself has become a considerably reinforced power in its own right, something which the government has hitherto had to take into account in all its measures pertaining to government employee matters.56

Despite financial shortages, the government was aware that it had to take the demands of government employees seriously in order to maintain the quality of the state administration: There is one danger from the point of view of the state administration that must not be underestimated. If the government employees who stay in state service cannot be offered a genuinely sufficient guarantee to their material existence that is at least to some degree comparable with the salaries of people in private occupations, the most able elements will take the opportunity of the implementation of the reduction measures to leave the state service and will then enter much more lucrative employment in the private sector, much to the detriment of the state administration.57

Besides negotiations, the unionized government employees also applied measures of industrial action, i.e. threats of as well as actual strikes. Unlike their German counterparts, Austrian government employees were in principle entitled to the right to go on strike. They not only threatened to do so several times during negotiations with the government, they also took action. In June 1920, after a meeting of members of the Zentralverband, the first demonstration of government employees took place on the streets of Vienna. From December 1920 to February 1921, there were several strikes by employees and workers of the postal and telegraph services. E ­ mployees of the public transport system went on strike in June 1922.58 Strikes by govern­ ment employees in 1926 were the official reason for the resignation of the cabinet under Chancellor Rudolf Ramek.59 Understandably, the government was not in favour of these activities, but was in no position to ban them. ­During a meeting of the 25er Ausschuss with the government in November 56

ÖStA, AdR, Staatskanzlei, Varia, Ersparungskommission. Report by Dr. Egbert Mann­ licher (see footnote 24). 57 Ibid. 58 Naderer 1928, 26–27; Naderer 1929, 17. 59 Melichar 2013 66–67.

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1927, Chancellor Ignaz Seipel urged the employees to refrain from going on strike and to put the idea of arbitration above the idea of conflict.60 Finally in 1933, the disciplinary regulations were tightened, stipulating that striking was an offence punishable by dismissal.61 In a journal article published in 1934, two senior officials of the Austrian Ministry of Finance declared striking an outright violation of the duty to obedience that should be punished.62 In the authoritarian Corporate State from 1934 on, industrial action was allowed only within a unified, government-controlled trade union (Einheitsgewerkschaft). Disciplinary files as a specific source for investigating conduct of life A civilian government employee who led a disreputable lifestyle was seen as unfit to represent the state. The violation of regulations pertaining to the appropriate conduct of life could thus lead to disciplinary investigation and trial. Such offences could be committed in service (e.g. absence without leave, embezzlement, drunkenness, distribution of political leaflets) as well as in private life (e.g. excessive debts, participation in political demonstrations, sexual offences), even including misbehaviour of spouses and children. ­Government employees convicted by criminal law faced additional disciplinary measures that ranged from mere reprimands to dismissals. This also applied to retired employees, whose pensions could be punitively reduced. The paragraphs applicable in the employment code were relatively vague as to what amounted to a disciplinary offence. § 24 stated that ­civilian ­government employees had to preserve the reputation of the profession (Standesansehen) on as well as off duty.63 They always had to behave in accordance with the requirements of discipline and to avoid anything that might predictably impair the esteem and trust commanded by their position. Additional paragraphs addressed interaction with superiors, colleagues and clientele. Government employees were expected to behave respectfully towards their superiors and decently towards colleagues, subordinates and third parties. Also covered were aspects like participation in (political) organizations, additional occupations and presence at and absence from work. Furthermore, based on a decree issued by Chancellor Karl Buresch on 60

Naderer 1932, 21. Bundesgesetzblatt für die Republik Österreich Nr. 173 v. 10. Mai 1933. Verordnung der Bundesregierung über besondere Maßnahmen, betreffend die öffentlich-rechtlichen Bundesangestellten. 62 Gruber & Pfaundler 1934, 116. 63 Reichsgesetzblatt für die im Reichsrate vertretenen Königreiche und Länder Nr. 15 v. 25. Jänner 1914 (Dienstpragmatik). 61

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2 December 1931 after an attempted coup d’état by the Styrian Heimwehr leader Walter Pfrimer, membership in political organizations and the display of political emblems during service hours were declared illegal for government employees.64 In situations of disciplinary offences, local authorities formed a commission of senior officials at the place of employment of the accused. In more complicated or controversial cases, a secondary level of jurisdiction addressed the disciplinary offence. In the period under analysis, the respective ministries and since 1934 the Federal Chancellery were in charge of the secondary level. The vagueness of the employment code turned out to be very convenient for the purposes of this research: negotiations on the borders of (in-) decency can be found in disciplinary files. The members of the commissions discussed whether an action called for a major disciplinary response or was considered merely a minor administrative offence (Ordnungswidrigkeit), how grave an offence was and whether or which penal measures were therefore appropriate. In some instances, the person accused protested against the indictment. Other files include witness or informers accounts. Together, these reports provide valuable sources offering insight into the conduct of life of civilian government employees. The Austrian State Archives hold a collection of files of the secondary level of jurisdiction, the Supreme Commission for Disciplinary Procedures (Disziplinaroberkommission). The collection consists of 82 cartons, each containing ten to fifteen files.65 Although the centralized supreme commission at the Federal Chancellery was only installed in 1934, the collection includes cases from 1916 to 1938, since the commission handled also all older cases not yet decided. Some examples of disciplinary offences will be featured in order to highlight the range of cases and consequences as well as the information that can be gathered from these sources. The examples are tentatively divided into three groups: offences during service, offences in private life and political offences, which might take place in either context. Offences in service A major offence while in service was neglect of the tasks a government employee had to perform. Apparently, files were disappearing in a police department in Vienna in 1925. It turned out that J. B., in charge of the clerical work, was not only doing a sloppy job, but was also known to arrive at 64 65

Enderle-Burcel & Jeřabek 2011, 27. ÖStA, AdR, Bundeskanzleramt (BKA), BKA-I Präs, Disziplinaroberkommission (DOK).

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the office late on a regular basis. He had also hidden about 200 pending files in his desk. J. B. claimed that he had only intended to postpone the work to a less busy juncture. He explained that he was overworked, since he had to process the files of several other officers in the department. Furthermore, he was suffering from a pulmonary disease. For this misdemeanour, he was punished by a 25% salary cut for two years. On appeal, the Supreme Commission reduced the salary cut to three months, taking the culprit’s poor health and his obligation to support his parents into account. Interestingly enough, the fact that he was not working correctly in general did not seem to be the main problem in this case. On the contrary, the members of the dis­ciplinary commission showed sympathy for an overworked clerk. But the reputation of the authorities was jeopardized, since the hidden files included one dealing with a missing person. Newspapers reported police inactivity in the case, which greatly exacerbated the damage caused by J. B.’s misconduct.66 In another case, this one from the year 1930, the Viennese Detective Inspector F. O. was accused of keeping fines he had collected on duty and being generally sloppy and slow in his work. His case is interesting because it contains a lot of information on his person, marriage (including the amount of household money he gave his wife) and an extramarital affair with a ­cashier. Both women were interviewed in the course of the hearing. The adultery as such did not amount to a disciplinary offence. F. O., however, received disciplinary measures for pocketing the fines. He was suspended and later advised to apply for permanent retirement. The final outcome of the proceedings is not included in the files.67 Disrespectful behaviour towards colleagues was another possible cause for disciplinary procedures. Agrarbauoberkommissär E. B. was accused of having offended a colleague by calling him a pig (“Sie Schwein, Sie!”). E.B. claimed that he had not uttered an insult, but just told the colleague to be quiet (“Schweigen Sie!”) and had been misunderstood. The consequence of this incident was a reprimand recorded in the personnel file.68 Government employees were also supposed to behave respectfully and helpfully towards their clients. When disciplinary action was considered against a teacher at a secondary school in Vienna who had slapped a student in the face during class, the disciplinary commission took into account the character of the pupil and discussed whether he had deserved the slap. As a result, the teacher

66

Ibid., Karton 6. Ibid., Karton 1. 68 Ibid., Karton 3. 67

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was not charged with a major offence, but merely a misdemeanour, which was sanctioned with a reprimand.69 Other cases involved incidents of brutality, drunkenness and indecent assault while on duty. Offences in private life Government employees could be subjected to disciplinary procedures as a result of excessive debts. In 1932, Detective Inspector (Kriminalrayons­ inspektor) A. F. in the province of Burgenland had amassed considerable debts (6,200 Schilling) and forged official documents to show that he had no distraints of his salary. Actually, his salary was distrained due to debts to his landlady, several waiters, a dental technician and local banks. He was dismissed following the disciplinary proceedings, but received a maintenance allowance amounting to half of the pension he would have received on retirement under normal conditions. Mitigating circumstances were granted because A. F. was known to be suffering from taboparesis (neurosyphilis).70 A number of cases concerned relationships and sexuality: false ­promises of marriage, adultery, indecent assault or homosexuality. The disciplinary offence consisted not only of the act itself, but also of the fact that it had become known to a wider public. In 1927, a policeman from Vienna was accused of having promised to marry a respectable young woman. He demanded 20 Schilling from her every week to set up their future household. When he did not keep the promise, he refused to return the money he had received. On the first level of disciplinary jurisdiction, he was suspended from duty until a final verdict had been reached, while his salary was reduced by one fourth. On appeal, he was cleared of all charges for lack of evidence.71 In 1927, the Viennese police officer (Oberwachmann) F. B. was accused of having an affair with a woman and her daughter at the same time, causing a scandal when this became public. He was punished with a salary cut by 20%, but was not dismissed.72 Only one case in the files of the Supreme Commission deals with homosexuality. Oberwachmann J. E. from Vienna was found guilty of having a sexual relationship with a man and was given a two-month suspended sentence in a criminal court. In addition, he was dismissed from duty, but received a financial maintenance allowance (Sustenation) for the length of

69 Ibid. 70

Ibid., Karton 2. Ibid., Karton 9. 72 Ibid., Karton 4. 71

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two years as a result of his appeal against the disciplinary measure on the first level.73 Drunkenness might be a cause of disciplinary proceedings both on and off duty, sometimes even for a bystander. In 1931, Sicherheitsoberwachmann A. A. was subjected to disciplinary proceedings for not interfering when a fellow policeman was drunk in public off duty, thus harming the reputation of the profession. This colleague was badly injured after taking a car ride with an equally drunk taxi driver the same evening. A. A. was punished with a five percent salary cut by the first level of disciplinary jurisdiction, but was cleared of all charges after his appeal.74 An offence did not necessarily have to be committed by the government employee himself. Police officer (Sicherheitswacherayonsinspektor) J. B. was subjected to a disciplinary procedure because “as a father and head of the family” he had allowed a married man to have an affair with his underage daughter. The ensuing public scandal and lawsuits were interpreted by the disciplinary commission as grave damage to the reputation of state authorities. As a consequence J. B. was retired early with his pension reduced by one (!) percent.75 Political activities In the sample, most of the cases concerning political activities considered as disciplinary offences date from the years 1933 to 1937, understandably so due to the introduction of stricter regulations against such activities starting at the end of 1931. Some of these offences concerned expressions of ­sympathy for Social Democratic policies, even as early as 1927. According to other policemen, Sicherheitsoberwachmann A. A. had referred to the lawsuit following the events in the town of Schattendorf (a violent clash between paramilitary groups leading to the July Revolt in Vienna) in an inn in Vienna’s sixth district in a way that deprecated the courts and the organizations of public security. A. A. did not deny his remarks and insisted on his right to freedom of expression (on the basis of the constitutional laws of 1867). He was dismissed from duty, and his appeal against the penalty was to no avail.76 In 1933, Polizeirayonsinspektor A. C. had decorated his window with red lanterns and garlands, the portrait of a Schutzbund (the paramilitary organization of the Social Democrats) leader and a banner labelled with the 73

Ibid., Karton 12. Ibid., Karton 4. 75 Ibid. 76 Ibid., Karton 1. 74

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message “Hoch das Rote Wien!” His income was reduced by ten percent for the length of six months. His appeal against the penalty was dismissed.77 Others displayed their allegiance to the National Socialist movement and were therefore prosecuted. The Viennese telegraph employee (Telegraphenrevident) L. A. was accused of having contacts to a motorized formation of the NSDAP in Germany and of participating in the National Socialist demonstrations in 1932, in particular a riot outside a café in Vienna’s second district that was used as a synagogue on holidays. L. A. had thrown a chair in the course of this riot. As a consequence, he was retired early at the age of 30 with his pension reduced by five percent. In 1933, the Kanzleiadjunkt W. C. from the province of Salzburg had been seen dressed in a white shirt and a black tie, at the time the dress code of the National Socialists. He was accused of an offence against the regulations prohibiting wearing uniforms. Whereas his lawyer argued that a shirt and tie could not be considered a uniform as such but rather an unofficial dress code (Einheitskleidung) of the National Socialists, W. C. was sent into retirement with a reduced pension (two percent) for a year.78 Two nurses, G. D. and I. D., were accused of pro-National Socialist activities such as forwarding conspiratorial letters and establishing a sewing circle that was secretly used for political discussions. They were cleared of charges for lack of evidence. A postal worker (Oberoffizial) in Graz was accused of paying membership fees to a National Socialist organization after the party had been banned. Her salary was reduced by ten percent for 18 months.79 Conclusions Disciplinary files are not the only source available for writing a social history of Austrian government employees in the First Republic. But they certainly provide an important addition to more obvious sources such as autobiographies, personnel files, newspaper articles and other documents displaying a presentable and socially acceptable image. I argue that it is possible to construct a history of morals and norms from a reverse perspective, by way of looking at violations and discussions about them. Furthermore, disciplinary files give the opportunity to look into the lives of broader strata of government employees, who are less likely to write autobiographies than senior officials or teachers. One can also ask about the interrelations between the social and economic situation of government employees and the offences 77

Ibid., Karton 8.

79

Ibid., Karton 5.

78 Ibid.

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committed by them, e.g. in the cases of incurring debts or taking advantage of a woman’s monetary assets while falsely promising marriage. The ­analysis of a larger sample will allow a determination of whether disciplinary commissions made their decisions case by case or rather referred to precedents. It should be possible to investigate whether there were variations in the severity of punishments for similar offences. Apart from files of the Supreme Commission for Disciplinary Procedures at the Federal Chancellery, files can be analyzed from commissions in various ministries that were in charge of the second level of jurisdiction prior to 1934. Furthermore, files are also archived from procedures at the first level of disciplinary jurisdiction. As far as the history of the government employees’ movement is concerned, it will be important to contrast the accounts of contemporary witnesses, commendable and informative as they are, with other sources. The perspective of organizations other than the Reichsverband need to be taken into account. In this paper, I have endeavoured to show that the conduct of life of civilian government employees, a considerable portion of ­Austrian society in the First Republic, is a promising and worthwhile object of research and that my research can fill a gap in the social history of Austria in the 20th century.

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The Administrative Apparatus under Reconstruction

233

The Administrative Apparatus under Reconstruction Peter Becker This year, I submitted an application to the Ministry of the Interior. At the beginning of the year. I must say, the ministry worked so promptly that a banker could not be more prompt.1

This comment was the later Austrian President Michael Hainisch’s lead-in to his thoughts on the performance of the Austrian authorities. He made them on the premises of the Viennese Merchants’ Association on Schwarzenbergplatz, sitting opposite the members of the Commission for the Promotion of Administrative Reform (Kommission zur Förderung der Verwaltungsreform), which carried out a large-scale survey between 21 October and 9 November 1912. They wanted to determine the views of the ‘involved circles’ within the populace concerning the administration and its reform.2 For Hainisch, his legal training, experience in self-administration and finance, and his role as an agricultural entrepreneur were sufficient for him to identify, “purely from practice”, the strengths and weaknesses of the Austrian administration.3 The survey, planned and implemented as a tool by the parliamentarian and administrative lawyer Josef Redlich and the former Minister of the Interior, Baron Guido von Haerdtl, was a new approach in more than one respect. As an expert in British self-administration and parliamentarianism, Redlich was familiar with the procedures of the British Royal Commission. Compared with other surveys of experts, use of these procedures increased the number of persons invited to hearings.4 The commission already employed 1

Enquete 1913, 32. On the history of the commission, see Hasiba 1988; on its programme and activities, Deak 2009, chapter 6. See also Josef Redlich, “Eröffnungsrede”, in Enquete 1913, 3–4: “the tool of the survey is being employed in order to allow the opinions, based on experiences and factual observations, of representatives of the population to be expressed on the organization of the political and financial authorities.” 3 See Hainisch 1978. On Redlich’s assessment, Schicksalsjahre 2011, I 100–101. 4 On the role of Redlich and Haerdtl, see Lindström 2008, 218, 221–222. Redlich’s scholarly works at the time were very closely linked to his political endeavours to achieve a practical reform of the state apparatus. The realization of the survey was not met with undivided agreement on the part of the expert public. The editor of the Österreichische 2

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external experts for determining the list of invitees and elaborating a questionnaire, and Hainisch was one of them. According to Redlich, he was one of the “best men we have”,5 distinguished through his pluridisciplinary training, membership in various networks and, above all, through his affinity to Redlich in socio-political activities. Likewise new about the survey was the dialogue with the invited experts. Redlich was particularly proud of this – as demonstrated in his opening address, where he termed the procedure “an exchange [with] the individual questioned expert maintained in lively flow through questions and answers.”6 The presentation of written reports was not allowed. If experts wanted to support their arguments with more elaborate reflections, they could submit their statements afterwards for the publication of the proceedings. Eighty experts were invited to the survey who, like Hainisch, were capable of speaking about the administration from personal experience and were simultaneously familiar with theoretical debates on the state, its purposes and its administration, with Vienna, Bohemia, Moravia and Galicia particularly strongly represented while the Alpine regions were clearly under-represented. More than a quarter of the eighty men were legal experts – notaries and lawyers who represented the interests of their clients from industry and landed estates or monitored the authorities’ rulings at the Administrative Court. Industrialists and large-scale agrarians were similarly well-represented. Like Hainisch, they knew the decision-making process of state and communal bodies from their own often distressful experience. The final numerically relevant group consisted of the officials of chambers of commerce, federations, social insurance agencies and co-operatives, who – as prototypes of modern professional politicians – represented special interests vis-à-vis the government and the administration.7 Workers, peasants and artisans were not invited, as were academics and journalists.

5 6

7

Zeitschrift für Verwaltung even rejected the plan with unequivocal words; Hasiba 1988, 249. On the Royal Commission and its working techniques from a cultural perspective, see Schaffner 2001. Schicksalsjahre 2011, I 603, diary entry, 25 May 1914. Enquete 1913, 4. To realize this programme, Redlich accepted the departure from the model of the Prussian Immediatkommission für Verwaltungsreform. After a conversation with the Prussian Minister of the Interior Friedrich v. Moltke, Redlich emphasized that the commission “had not envisioned reaching out […] in the form of questioning other persons.” Schicksalsjahre 2011, I 318, diary entry, 19 May 1910. On Redlich’s study trip to Prussia, see Lindström 2008, 216–217. This social and professional profile was in keeping with the profile of deputies to provincial diets, which still relied heavily on local dignitaries, with the addition of a few professional politicians. See Adlgasser 2015, 66–67.

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The Commission and its Prismatic View of the Administration What could a legally versed estate owner like Hainisch, a sociopolitically active man experienced in local politics and business, contribute in the way of knowledge about sovereign administration that was relevant for the reform of the state and administration at the beginning of the 20th century? His input provided the members of the Commission for Administrative Reform with an external perspective on the state and its administration, and the same applied to the observations by other factory and estate owners, lawyers, and representatives of chambers, associations and health insurance funds. They were all experts in interacting with the administration, for in order to achieve their economic objectives, they had to make use of state and/ or communal services. In the course of these interactions, they frequently experienced conflicts between their own action rationality and the functional logic of the authorities, which also became a topic during the survey. Hence the representatives of the “involved circles of the populace” supported the reorganization of the administrative apparatus by reporting on its dysfunctionality. From the viewpoint of the Commission, their observations offered crucial reference points for the reform, as criticism of concrete procedural deficits was closely connected to theoretical reflection on the organization of the state apparatus, its organizational culture and administrative practice.8 The experts tackled not only the complicated forms of governance in the Habsburg Monarchy, but also took governments and administrations in other European countries into account – particularly the circumstances in the German states. Theory and practice, as well as comparative considerations, were salient components of the prismatic perspective onto the state apparatus and its reform. But a further refraction factor of the intellectual light should not be overlooked either: the political scenarios of integration and disintegration to which the reorganization of the state apparatus seemed inseparably linked. Stakeholders like Redlich, as well as the representatives of the bureaucracy, politics and the chambers of commerce, were concerned with improving the efficiency and heightening the integration ability of the state.9 Such an 8

9

See the hearing of Karl Brockhausen, Enquete 1913, 18–20. The results of his reflections were theoretically informed, yet provided very concrete ideas for reform. Above all, he suggested creating a “truly local state body” that would be able to handle the requirements of a “social auxiliary state” in a manner promoting state integration. See also Brockhausen 1911, particularly 63. On administrative culture, see Becker 2003. These reflections followed the ideas of Lorenz von Stein, whose concept of “social kingship” assigned the emperor and the state a leading role in social policy. See Schlegelmilch 2011, 236; on the issue of efficiency, see also Deak 2015, 195–196, 217 and 245, whose argument, however, does not sufficiently take the role of interest groups into a­ ccount.

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administrative reform was viewed as a contribution towards creating a balance between unity and diversity within the state organization and the political culture of the monarchy.10 The reform was to foster political integration, national balance, democratization and local autonomy – and above all, offer a solution to the crisis of the state and politics.11 The Commission worked towards these goals with the ‘systemic’ approach of the administrative apparatus, relating a broad spectrum of topics and aspects to one another: from the use of the typewriter to the division of responsibilities within departments, from the working hours of civil servants to the distribution of tasks between concept officials and clerks, from networking with the ‘involved circles’ to the design of curricula for the study of law, medicine and technology.12 The Commission also included in its deliberations the challenges of modern politics, society, business and culture faced by the government and the administration at the turn of the century. These challenges were the expansion of the state in times of growing democratization and increasing demand for public goods,13 the integration of societal interests beyond parliamentary and national political representation, and the new role of civil servants as mediators between citizens and the state.14 This led to a significant expansion of the purposes of the state, especially in the areas of infrastructure, social insurance, the security police and education, as well as to an increasing bisection of state finances due to the growing significance of the provincial budgets15 and to increased international networking of government and administrative activities. Its complex reflective space makes the Commission for the Promotion of Administrative Reform a privileged point of departure for the analysis of governance in the Habsburg Monarchy around 1900. This essay will make use of that reference space to enquire into the administrative apparatus in the process of reorganization, wherein the external view as encountered in the survey will be placed in relation to observations made by the Commission. In its surveys, it employed the latest statistical methods to identify obstacles in the communication and decision-making systems of the state. These two 10 11

12

13

14 15

Lindström 2008, 202; Rumpler 2015, 28. Boyer 1986, 176–177. The influence of technological innovations on procedural rules, records management, registry, but also on writing and communicational styles is appositely termed by Patrick Joyce as slow tech. Joyce 2013, 10–11. Raadschelders 1998, 249. On the expansion of state activity and the inefficient organization of the central administration, see Bericht der Kommission 1913; on this report, see Lindström 2008, 222–224. Randeraad 1998a, especially 90–91. Hye 2000; see also Deak 2015, 227–231.

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approaches were not disconnected within the work of the Commission – its reports on individual issues of the administrative reform frequently referred to weak points identified by experts in the survey.16 The Knowledge of the State and its Blind Spots What role did the experts’ reports on the functioning of the administration, saturated as they were with personal experience, play – and how were their linguistic images received, e.g. the comparison between the ministerial bureaucracy and a commercial bank? Or, from the perspective of the knowledge of the state: What knowledge about the state did the heads of the government and administration lack that induced them to conduct a survey lasting several days in the rooms of the Viennese Merchants’ Association? During the late 18th and early 19th century, the state invested considerable resources into monitoring and controlling its authorities and civil servants. As a result of regular inspection visits to the districts, the centralization of the flow of information, the handling of appeals, the processing of petitions and the application of disciplinary measures, the central authorities were well-informed concerning the activities of their agencies. There was also no dearth of knowledge concerning the legal foundations of administrative work. At the beginning of the 1880s, the Ministry of the Interior undertook substantial efforts to organize normative knowledge in reaction to the flood of new laws, regulations and decrees.17 Hence when the Commission for the Promotion of Administrative Reform began its work, its members were familiar with procedural norms and administrative legislation. What it lacked was direct access to the experience of the civil servants, i.e. the persons who knew the procedural weaknesses best. The government under Count Karl Stürgkh prevented direct contact to them, however.18 Similarly, the Commission did not have in-depth information about the complex interdependence between the government, the provinces, the communities, the parties, special interest groups and other civil society stakeholders. According to Michael Mann’s Theory of the Modern State, this interaction was crucial for the provision of numerous state services during the second half of the 19th century:

16 Examples: Anträge der 17 Deak 2015, 175–177. 18

Kommission 1913a, 39.

By contrast, Lindström 2008, 221–222 sees the survey as an alternative strategy for gaining information that could not be obtained from the civil servants themselves. In the author’s view, such an interpretation ignores the significance of the external perspective, which was introduced quite explicitly by the invited experts.

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Given such interpenetration, where does the state end and civil society begin? The state is no longer a small, private place and elite with its own rationality. ‘It’ contains multiple institutions and tentacles sprawling from the center through its territories [...] Conversely, civil society also becomes far more politicized than in the past, sending out diverse raiding parties [...] into the various places of the state.19

The network between the government and politics had become tighter under Prime Minister Ernest von Koerber (1900–1904). Critical contemporaries regarded this not as an opportunity but rather as a threat, however – an intrusion of party patronage into personnel and factual decisions with the goal of sustaining or expanding a national or social status quo.20 The rapidly increasing costs of the state apparatus were blamed on this new client system. As Ernst Hanisch succinctly put it, “the art of intervention now became the real political art, and patronage the daily bread of bureaucracy and parties.”21 Count Erich Kielmannsegg, the long-standing governor of Lower Austria and advocate of a modern office organization, severely criticized Koerber’s government for allowing itself to be tempted into direct interventions by individual parliamentarians.22 The representatives of the national groups were the true beneficiaries, since they were able to reward and motivate their supporters by awarding them civil service positions, and the parliament’s interest in openly opposing this practice was correspondingly small.23 According to Kielmannsegg, Koerber relied on such paltry favours to secure the political support of parliamentarians, and the compartmentalized and ­client-oriented form of politics allowed a large number of persons to benefit from it.24 Kielmannsegg illustrated the disastrous logic of this system using a case from his own working environment. The Austrian parliamentary delegate and mayor of St. Pölten, Wilhelm Voelkl – a “highly energetic and truly eccentric man who died a paralytic in an asylum a few years later” – had a small group of supporters in the House of Representatives, which afforded him some influence with the government. With Koerber’s assistance, he was able to bypass the fire regulations for the St. Pölten municipal theatre in direct contravention of the regulations of the governor’s office.25

19 20 21 22 23 24

25

Mann 1993, 61. Nico Randeraad views the twin concepts of state and society as two partially overlapping domains. Randeraad 1998b, 9–16. Boyer 1986, 174–175. Hanisch 1994, 211. Kielmansegg 1966, 291. Heindl 2013b, 129; Deak 2015, 218. Rumpler 2015, 26–28. Kielmansegg 1966, 293. On Voelkl’s biography, see Adlgasser 2014a, 1347–1348.

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Senior functionaries of the administration such as Kielmannsegg took a critical stance concerning the tendency towards eliminating the borders between the public administration and expectations on the part of “interested circles of the population”. To them, the increasing entanglement could be viewed only in terms of a modern clientele system bordering on corruption. The hearings during the survey followed a different perspective, however: the experts hailing from the very same “circles” were questioned regarding their experiences with the use of the public administration. They had not been invited as academics to explain to politicians and administrative experts the methods and insights of their disciplines. It was not enrichment or the utilization of scientific knowledge to perform new tasks of the state that was up for discussion, but rather the filling of gaps in the state’s knowledge about itself. The survey of 1912 supplied information about these networks that was shaped by theoretical considerations and practical experiences alike. The current processes of the administration were placed in a historical reference framework and evaluated from a comparative perspective. But the specialists no longer spoke about state and administration exclusively in abstract terms. Even the legally and constitutionally trained interviewees used a­ nalogies, reports about experiences and comparisons with other procedures to concretize their arguments. This external perspective onto the administrative apparatus provides a starting point for reflection on the positioning of the state and the administration in relation to politics, business and society in times of political and social change. The increasing networking between state and non-state players produced new challenges for the state and its bodies. Simultaneously, social and technological change caused technical knowledge to become more deeply integrated in administrative procedures. This resulted in often fierce controversies concerning the significance of knowledge and its bearers. State and Society: “Dealing with Civic and Political Activity” The relationship between state and society had already been an important concern for Alexander (after 1854 Freiherr von) Bach, the Minister of the Interior during the era of neo-absolutism. In a circular more than coincidentally reminiscent in style and tone of Emperor Joseph II’s ‘pastoral letter’ of 1783, Bach called for the governors of the provinces to actively contribute to reorganizing the state apparatus, referring as he did so to the new civil service culture. Waltraud Heindl places this new understanding of the administration in the tradition of Josephinism, emphasizing in particular the closeness

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to ­citizens expected by Bach.26 But how did Bach envision this closeness between citizens and civil servants? He was primarily concerned with asserting official authority, which was to be based not on coercion, but on citizens’ insight into the superiority and non-partisanship of civil servants. Herein the influence of a notion of office can be discerned that Hegel appositely described using the term “state servants” (Staatsbedienstete) for the general class,27 as can be the principle of “nothing through the people, everything for the people” already dominant in Josephinism and the Age of Metternich.28 The superiority of civil servants was the result of the combination of objective distance, knowledge of legal procedures and experience, not of technical competence in the new areas of the administration. The claim to predominant authority on the part of the civil servants would not remain restricted to the era of neo-absolutism, however: It determined their authoritarian and ­illiberal way of thinking until the end of the Monarchy.29 Secondly, Bach sought to mobilize local and regional networks to support the reorganization of the state, society, politics and the economy. The men organized in chambers of commerce, communities and associations were the targets of guidance and instruction by civil servants, but not autonomous partners in the negotiation of claims to validity. Bach thus stood for the expansion of the state’s grasp following the Revolution of 1848, accurately characterized by Mann as “a state as a set of central and radial institutions penetrating its territories.”30 The question of appropriate involvement of social stakeholders in the state and its politics was also the topic of debates during the 1860s. At the beginning of the road from neo-absolutism to parliamentarianism stood a parliament whose members were appointed by the provincial diets. It was to confine itself to advising the emperor in legislative matters, a position thoroughly in keeping with the constitutional developments in other European countries. Based on this setting, the implementation of a liberal programme of political participation in parliament against the emperor’s persistent opposition occurred in small steps and with the aid of a generous interpretation of the latitude stipulated by the constitution.31 Around fifty years later, the 26

Presentation by the Minister of the Interior, Alexander Bach, dated 18 August 1849; in: Walter 1964, 105–110; see Heindl 2013b, 55–57; Heindl 2014, 148–149. 27 See Becker & von Krosigk 2008. 28 Matis 1974. 29 Lindström 2008, 195. Lindström also points out the similarities between the goals of Redlich and Bach, however (211). 30 Mann 1993, 59. 31 Judson 2015, 121–125, Malfèr 2014, 426–433. On the continuation of the struggle for influence between 1861 and 1867, see Kwan 2015.

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inclusion of citizens at the parliamentary level had been successfully completed owing to the autonomy of communities that had been practised for many years, the emergence of mass parties and an extensive democratization of suffrage. The unintended consequences were new ideological, national and socio-political fragmentations.32 The protagonists of a radical reform of the state and the administration saw themselves facing a new challenge: citizen participation in the state was to be fashioned in such a way that antagonisms and political stagnation could be overcome. Moreover, the increased provision of public goods33 and the gradual development of a social citizenship necessitated a fundamental transformation of the state apparatus and its ‘business model’. Disciplining and admonishing were to be replaced with co-operation and negotiation. In concrete terms, it was a question of the participation of the populace in the administration on the district and regional levels, and of involving lay persons in administrative jurisdiction. Civic participation in the state administration had already been provided for in the provisional Community Law (Gemeindegesetz) of 1849. But Mann’s well-described interpenetration of the state apparatus and social stakeholders was still not strongly developed at the time. Hence the Community Law did not yet view civic participation as a response to the challenges of the modern economy and society, but rather as a way of interlocking communal self-administration and sovereign state administration.34 Small communities frequently understood their participation in the state as a ­burden, and even liberal deputies wished to restrict the responsibilities of their communities in favour of the state so as to shift the cost of modernization and economic development upwards.35 The strengthening of the state at the local level remained an option in the debate, and also played a major role in Prime Minister Koerber’s reform ideas. But the expansion of the state was to be combined with increased inclusion of interest groups at the district and regional levels so as to establish “an organic connection between the state and autonomous authorities.”36 Participation of the citizens in legislation and 32

Boyer 1986, 163–167, 174. 33 Cf. Ambrosius 2001, 52–60. 34

On the Community Law, see Seiderer 2015, chapter V; Klabouch 1968, esp. 63–67. Community administrations had to cope with the consequences of urbanization, democratization and industrialization, and developed their range of services in close cooperation with state agencies. See from a comparative perspective Dagenais & Saunier 2003, 3, 16–17. A debate on administrative reform in the Austrian parliament in 1876 was used by Deak 2015 as an example of the desires of liberal politicians for more state responsibility (184–195, 209). 36 Deak 2015, 240; on Koerber’s 1904 Study for a Reform of the Domestic Administration, ibid., 237–243. 35

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public administration was a demand already voiced by liberals during the Vormärz and the Revolution of 1848. Some German states realized these demands to a high degree, but the corresponding efforts within the Habsburg Monarchy during the second half of the 19th century were no more than timid, e.g. the establishment of commercial advisory boards in the political administration of the first instance, the participation of provincial agricultural associations in railway projects and the establishment of county school councils. Expert opinions were eventually also obtained from chambers of commerce.37 Redlich developed these approaches further. On the level of the district, he intended to assign all administrative agendas to an elected district representation and a state district government so as to systematically dovetail state and non-state stakeholders.38 The discussion concerning the increased participation of lay persons in the political administration must be placed in the context of these debates and institutional experiences in Austria and abroad. During the survey of 1912, 44 experts expressed their views on the topic, and their comments were characterized by obvious uncertainty as to who would constitute a lay person, and which of these persons were to be involved in the administration’s decision-making processes. It was for this reason that the ­Cracow anatomist Kasimir Ritter v. Kostanecki asked the question during his hearing “whether physicians were considered lay elements in this sense.”39 Most experts unwittingly ironized the self-image of civil servants in their responses by defining lay persons as specialists. The specialized knowledge they referred to ranged from professional training in the field of commerce, trade, industry and agriculture through the technical expertise of qualified teachers at universities and research institutes all the way to the geographical know-how and experience of local dignitaries.40

37

John Deak put the development sketched here in a nutshell by referring to the simultaneous expansion of the state and non-state fields: “Municipal councils, school boards, provincial assemblies, district assemblies, the imperial parliament, and the imperial and administrative courts established a network of public places that would attend to policy making and governance alongside the bureaucratic apparatus.” Deak 2015, 199. 38 On this project, see Lindström 2008, 225–226. 39 Enquete 1913, 428. It is certainly no coincidence that a physician asked the question in this form, since together with jurists, physicians had been the most successful in establishing their disciplines as ‘professions’. In keeping with the practice of the survey, the experts’ first names are given here in their German forms, regardless of their nationality or ethnic background. 40 See the hearings of the experts Wilhelm Schmidt, Johann Zuccon, Wladimir List and August Einspinner. Enquete 1913, 210, 388, 436, 507.

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There were differing views regarding the inclusion of these ‘lay persons’ in the administration. Many voiced opposition, such as the Prague lawyer Emil Lingg: Thus I actually am of two souls here. One of them, the theoretical one, would like very much to express itself in favour of the employment of lay elements […]. But in practical terms, we have to say: Wherever lay elements have been called in, no advantages have resulted in jurisdiction and in the administration.41

Mentioned as being detrimental was the permeation of assumed subjectivity into the bureaucratic decision-making process, whose objective and non-partisan nature was usually implied, sometimes even directly asserted.42 Lay persons were considered to lack a sense of responsibility, and their participation in procedures was therefore suspected of enabling increased influence by “persons situated outside the civil service”, as Ludwig Wokurek, Deputy Director of the Workers’ Accident Insurance Institution (­ArbeiterUnfallversicherungsanstalt) in Moravia, put it.43 Experts who were in favour of involving lay persons demanded their participation in collective rather than in individual form through the inclusion of “organizations of lay elements”, as Salomon Manfred Singer stated on behalf of the Viennese Chamber of Commerce.44 With this demand, Singer went beyond the existing practice as little as did Gustav Josephy, a factory owner from Bielitz (Bilsko, Bielsko) in Silesia. Josephy demanded the – likewise already existing – consultation of industrial organizations, chambers of commerce and experts from technical colleges in administrative decisions so as to counteract the overworking of the “existing bodies” as a result of the rapid changes in the economy, state and society.45 At least there was consensus regarding the institutional framework for the participation of lay persons. Their cooperation was largely rejected at the bottommost level of political administration: availability of the required expertise was considered too uncertain, and the risk of increased politicization of administrative action too great. The greatest benefit was envisioned for authorities of the second instance in the form of a cooperative procedure in which lay persons were committee members with voting power. High hopes were placed in well-networked persons concerning the informal 41

Enquete 1913, 254. Example: Hearing of the expert Carl Wagner, Enquete 1913, 46. 43 Enquete 1913, 176. In his autobiography, Kielmansegg cites a number of examples of such influencing, which to his eyes had increased considerably during the time of the Koerber government. Kielmansegg 1966, 291–292. 44 Enquete 1913, 132. 45 Enquete 1913, 194. 42

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r­ esolution of disputes and the provision of decision-relevant information on local circumstances and individuals. Finally, there were views that regarded lay participation as an element of political education. The Viennese lawyer Eduard Coumont saw major, albeit indirect benefits “if this slight clandestineness of the authorities, this slight mystery is lifted and one actually sees the gentlemen at work […] then this slight horror concerning the authorities and civil servants […] will be partly removed.”46 The non-state organizations with the longest tradition of participation in government and administration were the chambers of commerce. They were established in 1850 to support economic development through expert opinions, proposals and reports, and held a key function within the system of governance. As advisory bodies to the government at the provincial and imperial levels, they were expected to “bring their observations and suggestions concerning the needs of commerce and industry as well as the state of the means of transport to the attention of the authorities, at the request of the ministries or provincial authorities as well as on their own initiative.”47 Therefore, they did not have to wait for such requests, but could take the initiative and present their perceptions without being called upon to do so. The chambers, which carried the state seal and frequently had the character of authorities themselves, also made important contributions to economic statistics. They submitted annual reports on business relations and the state of trade, commerce and traffic in their district to the minister of trade. On these occasions, they could likewise present their wishes and proposals. In order to fulfil their duties, the chambers could oblige merchants and tradespersons, enterprises, institutions, and even some authorities to provide information. The chambers also obviously assumed official responsibilities when they issued legitimation cards for travelling merchants. Finally, they were called upon as centres of competence to dispatch delegates to a large number of influential advisory boards, from the State Railway and Industry Council (Staatseisenbahn- und Industrierat) to the Customs Advisory Board (Zollbeirat), provincial income tax commissions (Erwerbsteuerkommissionen) and the vocational school commission (Gewerbeschulkommission). Irrespective of these manifold networks with state stakeholders, the chambers had no direct say in the decision-making process. There were vehement complaints about this during the survey, e.g. by the Viennese lawyer Viktor Kienböck, a recognized authority on small business enterprises. He was 46 47

Enquete 1913, 494. Reichs-Gesetz-Blatt für das Kaiserthum Österreich Nr. 85 v. 29. Juni 1868 betreffend die Organisirung der Handels- und Gewerbekammern.

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aware of the dissatisfaction among “the circles concerned with cooperative administration and trade cooperatives.” He frequently heard the grievances of tradespersons that they had to work for the government and the administration, e.g. by compiling statistics and “providing hundreds of statements”, yet were “not in a position to exert influence on the decision.”48 The chambers of commerce were not devoid of possibilities to exert influence, however. Their opinions found their way into processes on various levels of political decision-making. Nevertheless, participation in the application of the law was lacking, and this was what Kienböck’s criticism referred to. Chamber officials could only employ their interface function to represent the concerns of their members vis-à-vis the authorities in a modern clientele system. Two examples may serve to illustrate the possibilities and limits of this involvement. Heinrich Janotta, the president of the Silesian Chamber of Commerce and board member in several sugar companies,49 reported about a firm that had applied to the Northern Railways (Nordbahn) for conversion of a waiting stop into a loading stop. After being dispatched to inspect the situation on site, a senior railway official filed the following report: The results of his endeavours finally culminated in the insight that the road […] running through the village is a district road. But this was an error, as it is the imperial road […]. This error was corrected and removed in the subsequent procedure passing through three instances and lasting a mere six months. The Northern Railways involved […] their legal and commercial department with this case. There an insignificant mistake occurred that the sum to be paid by the firm was listed as 900,000 crowns instead of 90,000 crowns in the copy for the records.50

By the time of the survey, this case had already dragged on for more than 16 years, and despite an appeal by the firm, the payment obligation had not been corrected. How could Janotta, the president of the chamber, assist the company? He used his influence with the State Railway Council to exert pressure on the Northern Railways, but achieved nothing. As the Northern Railways were planning investments of their own, all externally funded projects – including the establishment of the requested loading stop – were shelved.51

48

Enquete 1913, 12. In the interwar years, Kienböck served as Austrian Minister of Finance several times and as President of the National Bank in 1932–1938. 49 On Janotta’s biography, see Adlgasser 2014a, 519. 50 Enquete 1913, 192. 51 Janotta’s bad experiences with the Northern Railways were corroborated by Redlich: “Petitions have been submitted for four or five years, some of the deputies of both nations in Moravia have been set in motion, but nothing is of any help.” Enquete 1913, 193.

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The chambers also supported appeals by companies against decisions by the authorities through intervention at the governor’s office, as revealed during the hearing of the secretary of the Prague Chamber of Commerce, Rudolf Hotowetz. He criticized unjustifiable requirements by the trade inspectors using the example of an ultra-modern mill in Prague “possessing the best engineering equipment on the entire continent, where operations are completely automatic.” Nevertheless, the responsible inspector demanded the installation of a separate shutoff switch for every single machine, a task impossible with the mill technology in question. It was only an intervention by the chamber that allowed this requirement to be rescinded.52 The two examples illustrate the problems resulting from a structurally insufficiently regulated interpenetration between the authorities and nonstate institutions. Formal participation in the state administration was limited to the provision of services, and influence on administrative decisions therefore occurred non-transparently via involvement in administrative jurisdiction, i.e. through informal intervention by well-networked mediators. This form of participation was rejected by everyone for good reasons, but simultaneously practised by everyone. In times of intensified national-political polarization, recourse to mediators was often linked to the necessity of open declaration in favour of a party.53 This could lead to conflict with the decision-makers, however: “It is well-known that building permit applications are simply not approved for national opponents in individual communities,” Redlich emphasized as chairman of the survey.54 The alternative to this politicization would have been the establishment of structural interfaces between state authorities and non-state organizations. Such interfaces were mentioned during the survey, but not implemented until the end of the M ­ onarchy. The outside perspective also provided insights into dysfunctionalities of the administration itself, as illustrated by the example of Hainisch’s hearing. As an afterthought to the positive characterization of ministerial authorities quoted at the beginning of this paper, he criticized the inexplicable delay in dispatch by the Lower Austrian county administration (Bezirkshauptmannschaft) in Neunkirchen, which was responsible for his application. It took three weeks to deliver the final verdict to his house in Gloggnitz, located

52

Enquete 1913, 223. This strict assignment to one of the two sides was the basis for various balancing projects. In Budweis (České Budějovice), the posts in the administration as well as public commissions were to be awarded in keeping with this rationale. King 2002, 140–141. It was the result of a process of nationalization, see Judson 2006, especially chapter 1. 54 Enquete 1913, 74. 53

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around 13 kilometres from the seat of the authority.55 Hainisch was aware that this was not a form of misconduct punishable with disciplinary ­measures. The sluggishness was simply part and parcel of the customary form of procedure – which was increasingly unsuited to the rapidly ­accelerating demands of a supra-regional market, however. The Viennese lawyer Josef ­Brunstein put this out-of-kilter coexistence between the administration and the ­economy in a nutshell: Industrial circles complain particularly that the administrative authorities are unaware of how precious time is to specific professions, especially industrialists.56

In the arguments of the experts, the members of the Reform Commission saw themselves confronted with a knowledge about the state that could not be grasped in terms of administrative law or organizational sociology. The networking between social, economic and political stakeholders on the one hand and the state authorities on the other was viewed critically, but it was precisely the actual experience with the successful or flawed handling of these encounters that the survey was supposed to be about – along with the confrontation between the institutional culture of the sovereign administration and experiences from the economy. The adoption of commercial tools and procedures of organization and leadership for the sovereign administration, like in the USA, was out of the question in Vienna, however.57 A corresponding offer made by the industrialist Janotta was amicably but firmly rejected by Redlich as the chairman.58 At the time, the Habsburg Monarchy was pursuing a liberal economic policy, deliberately promoting the interests of industry, agrarian capitalism and corporate finance, and the selection of experts invited to take part in the survey underlined this stance. It is therefore not surprising that industry and banks were afforded a particularly important status in the hearings. They provided a requirement profile for the public administration that needed to be met in the interest of a competitive industry. Moreover, corporate finance and industry offered a linguistic reference space used to evaluate the state and its performance. The goal was to reprogram the organization of the bureaucracy in analogue to economic enterprises, as explained by the Viennese notary 55

Enquete 1913, 32. Hainisch was not the only expert to comment on this problem. ­Friedrich Tezner also reported an example: “I know of a case in which the decision was made by the ministerial body in June of one year and only sent to the party by the district authority in February of the following year.” Ibid., 38. 56 Enquete 1913, 50. 57 See Becker 2018. 58 Enquete 1913, 190.

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Carl Wagner, namely “that the spirit of the administration must be changed thoroughly in terms of practicality and expeditiousness. The means to this end are those of the analogy of the commercial business.”59 Analogies, Tales, Comparisons: The State on the Psychiatrist’s Couch The characteristic of our governorates (Statthaltereien) seems to me to be hypertrophy and lack of results, the characteristic of our county administrations (Bezirkshauptmannschaften) helplessness. These are the basic maladies our administration suffers from.60

The administrative law expert Karl Brockhausen, who had addressed the problems of the Austrian system of administration in numerous publications, employed the diction of psychology during his hearing to reveal the basic functional shortcomings of authorities. He sat the state down on the psychiatrist’s couch and attempted a therapeutic conversation about its decision-making weakness. In doing so, he used analogies, one of which once again placed the state in relation to a bank: And now I approach the manager of a branch of this major bank with this likewise dubious matter, and would ask him: Sir, what am I to do? If, like the county prefect (Bezirkshauptmann), he were to say, that is a tricky matter, I cannot make this deal with you myself, I will turn you down, you will complain in Vienna, and the general management will either make the deal with you or it will not, I advise you, appeal in any case; I would reply to the young man immediately: Make a telephone call, and the next time be better informed if I am to do business with you.61

The state was on the couch because its normal way of functioning led to disruptions in other areas of the system. The individual elements of the polymorphous state apparatus were not pathologically deformed, as I would like to argue in extension of the analogy of the therapy situation. The constitutional state was firmly established, liberal demands for communal autonomy implemented since the Revolution of 1848 or at least since the Community Law of 1861, and the influence of parliament on the executive, which was still subordinate to the emperor, was increasing. The disruptions resulted from the specific interaction between state and society as well as from bureaucratic procedures based on the written word and clear hierarchical dependencies. And as is the case for every psychiatric patient, to the Austrian state, these functional disorders were parts of its normality. 59

Enquete 1913, 33. See the discussion between Tezner and Redlich (Tezner: “I have the feeling that even the best laws will not provide a remedy if the spirit of the administration does not change.” Redlich replied as chairman: “The spirit should be in the laws.”). Ibid., 48. 60 Enquete 1913, 18. 61 Enquete 1913, 15.

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The therapeutic situation operates with alternative realities that the therapist offers to the patient; they are based on theoretical knowledge and clinical experience. In the case of the Austrian state, the experts invited to the survey played the role of therapists introducing alternative ways of functioning. To this end, they employed analogies and comparisons as rhetorical strategies. The fictional tale by Brockhausen is a good example: by transferring the conduct of a county prefect – perfectly normal for Austrian authorities – to a branch office of a bank, he opened up an alternative space of reality. This allowed him to consider the aspects of communication, decision-making and the application of rules that were problematic for the state administration from a different angle. In an afterthought to his analogy, Brockhausen ­conceded “that this comparison is highly flawed.” He did not consider its heuristic value to be impaired as a result, however, since it made new programming options visible: better information of the local authorities regarding ‘typical’ cases, which could thus be decided in the first instance without any problems.62 Comparison with other administrative systems was a further possibility for envisioning alternative realities. This look at strategies for mastering social, economic and technical problems in other countries was an important feature of political culture in the 19th century. International congresses and treaties under the banner of the new internationalism, along with journeys by politicians and experts to the “Meccas of Modernism”63 were used to communicate about solution strategies and the development of coordinated measures to deal with transnational challenges.64 The Commission for Administrative Reform was also involved in such projects. It assigned the diplomatic and consular representations of the Habsburg Monarchy around the world to surveying the existing forms of administrative jurisdiction and sent its secretary Robert Davy on a fact-finding mission to the German states.65 System comparison was also a tool frequently employed during the survey itself to develop alternative scenarios for the workings of the Austrian state apparatus. Brunstein, for example, referenced the German constitutional and legal reality to point out a deficit in the communication between authorities 62

Brockhausen called this mechanization. He was not referring to the increased employment of modern office technology, but to a differentiation of administrative work into the more demanding activity of solving new problems and the schematic use of existing solution strategies. He termed the latter ”mechanical”. See Brockhausen 1911, 76–78. 63 Schmundt et al. 2010. 64 On the internationalism of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, see Iriye 2002, ch. 1; Herren 2001. 65 Becker 2018.

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and citizens. His view was that the interaction between state and society was strained by the fact that state agents left applicants in the dark concerning the reasons for positive or negative decisions. “As early as in 1867,” he claimed, he had “advocated with reference to the Württemberg constitution that any citizen whose application had been rejected by the authorities was entitled to an explanation [...] concretized precisely by way of facts.”66 Moreover, comparisons made alternatives to the division of responsibilities between state and communal administrations visible – as shown by a brief comment by chairman Redlich in which he referred to the Prussian model of nationalizing the local police, thereby restricting communal autonomy: “I ask you to think of the position of the police department in the Kingdom of Prussia, which performs the majority of the tasks of the trade, construction, fire, security and medical police without the self-administration of the communities being affected.”67 This comparison with the Prussian situation shifted the diagnosis, and hence the therapy, to the constitutional plane.68 The breadth of the reference space – from improvements to the decision-making culture to revision of the constitutional principles of state administration – was characteristic of the experts’ considerations. This was epitomized in a system comparison by Friedrich Tezner, who pointed out a fundamental structural problem of the Austrian system of governance via comparison with Great Britain and Prussia: When we contemplate the other systems of self-administration, then we have in Great Britain a self-administration organized from bottom to top all the way up to parliament, and in Germany we have a self-administration under the state. Here, we have a self-administration against the state, and the consequence of this disruption is that the state administration sees itself not as a civic administration, and the civic administration not as a state administration.69

The state on the couch was the object of a ‘therapeutic’ approach that diagnosed the functional disorders from a twofold comparative perspective: That of comparison with other modern forms of economic organization, which were not affected by the specific time lag of the state authorities,70 and that of comparison with the state apparatuses in other countries. This opened up alternative reality spaces that allowed the deficits of one’s own 66

Enquete 1913, 52. Enquete 1913, 67. 68 On the role of the constitutional reform in the debates concerning the administrative reform, see Deak 2009, 351–352. 69 Enquete 1913, 70. 70 Mann 1993, 52: “States institutionalize present social conflicts, but institutionalized ­historic conflicts then exert considerable power over new conflicts.” 67

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state organization to be named in a concrete form and appropriate therapies to be suggested. The knowledge employed in this process was very highly networked. It required performative distance to topical experience and thus an effort in abstraction, was based on practical knowledge about structures, processes and procedures from a user perspective, and was built upon knowledge about governments and administrations in other countries.71 Knowledge Competition within the Administration The participation of non-state stakeholders in decision-making processes within the state administration already had a long history at the time of the survey. The sphere of administrative activity transferred to the communities and the involvement of chambers of commerce were the first tentative steps in this direction. The expansion of state activity in the direction of infrastructure and social policy placed new demands on the authorities. Technical competence was crucial now, but it was not taught within the framework of legal training.72 There were different strategies for integrating the new areas of knowledge into the state and autonomous administrations, namely utilization of the competence of corporations and interest groups and the involvement of local experts. During his hearing, the lawyer Ludwig Schüller asked the rhetorical question why “the county prefect should not have a number of people at his side whom he can ask for advice before making a decision”73 – and he found himself in good company with this notion. The chairman of the Reform Commission, Baron Erwin von Schwartzenau, made similar proposals in his reform plans,74 and the distinguished Austrian criminalist Hans Gross recommended using local experts to clarify the circumstances of a crime.75 Implementation of these suggestions would have strengthened the local networks of dignitaries, as the county prefect would have entered an alliance e.g. with the architect and the physician. Such a strengthening of 71

72

73 74 75

Steiner-Khamsi 2003. Using transfer relations in the educational field, Gita SteinerKhamsi makes two observations that are crucial to this argument: she stresses the need to consider the transfer of foreign models into a country’s own administrative system and own practice (381–383), and she points out that such a reference was primarily necessary in times of crises of legitimacy of the system concerned (378–379). Governors were also grappling with this problem at the turn of the century: “The governors were not only apprehensive of their future ability to meet their increasing workloads […]. They witnessed an ever-increasing jurisdiction: the administration had become responsible for more and more technical matters than it had never foreseen.” Deak 2015, 211. Enquete 1913, 22. Lindström 2008, 226–227. Gross 1913, 49.

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the infrastructural power at the local level was associated with drawbacks, however, above all with the loss of control over the establishment of the facts of a case and over the decision-making process. Brunstein, a lawyer like Schüller, suggested an alternative strategy for integrating technical and medical specialist knowledge: “The authorities must be able to work with their own manpower resources if they are to produce profitable results.”76 As he went on to explain, this required a reorganization of the technical service, thereby picking up a long-standing controversy about the significance of civil servants with technical or medical backgrounds. Simultaneously, he shifted the focus from the networks between authorities and their users to the organization of state institutions. The latter no longer appeared as black boxes with a bureaucratic decision-making culture, but turned out to be polymorphous institutions in which differing modes of thinking and acting co-existed or even collided. There was consensus during the survey that the growing specialization and technologizing of administrative tasks would have to have consequences on the way state bodies made their decisions. Should autonomous authorities dealing only with medical or technical railway issues be established?77 The disadvantage would be that the administration really did not have anything to do with technical issues in the actual sense, but rather with the application of specialized knowledge to the clarification of legal entitlements. Juridical competences therefore always also played a part. Rudolf Herrmann von Herrnritt, a member of the Administrative Court, endeavoured to provide an answer to the question of how these two dimensions could be separated analytically: The legal issue is a matter for jurists, the issue of fact one for technicians. In determining the facts and circumstances, the administrative civil servant is often in a position of having to pass a judgement concerning technical questions. It can be expected of the administrative civil servant that he possesses sufficient technical competence to be in a position to make use of the expert opinion by the technician.78

In his argument, Herrnritt assigned the leading role in procedures to legally trained bureaucrats. They ultimately decided on the central point, i.e. the legal issue. However, legal claims could not be entirely separated from 76

Enquete 1913, 30. “The natural course of development is specialization, and the development of specialist bodies is the necessary consequence.” Brockhausen, Enquete 1913, 19. For Bernatzik, the crucial question was whether specialist authorities were to retain the imperium in terms of the right to give orders. Ibid., 13. 78 Enquete 1913, 56.

77

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so-called issues of fact. This was similar to the debate in criminal law on the close connection between the determination of the element of an offence and the circumstances of the case, wherefore an intensive discussion was also ongoing regarding the use of expert opinions in criminal trials. To solve this dilemma, Herrnritt proposed a transdisciplinary approach that did not ­recommend the co-existence of legally trained administrators and technicians making a joint decision, but rather the acquisition of technical knowledge by administrators with a legal background who might then competently use expert opinions in the clarification of legal issues. Lack of technical competence on the part of bureaucrats was not the only criticism of specialist legal training by the Reform Commission. The major emphasis on legal history in the law curriculum was also pointed out as being particularly anachronistic.79 Instead, students should be provided with more options in the fields of public law and political science. This seemed necessary for the simple reason that “almost all major laws enacted over the past decades belong in the field of public law. And they cannot be understood and mastered without an in-depth understanding of the economic and social conditions they are intended to influence.”80 Among the non-obligatory courses to be offered in the education of bureaucrats, the authors mentioned (among others) mining, copyright, international private and administrative law as well as forensic psychology and the fundamentals of technology. Further competences to be imparted to prospective lawyers and civil servants included accounting, languages (English, French, and the languages of the Monarchy), stenography and typewriting. Finally, the students were recommended to take up the offers of physical training: they would thus not only be invigorated, but also deterred from the “consumption of alcohol and other bad habits incompatible with hygiene and the cultivation of sports.” Education should not be confined to the conveyance of knowledge: “We need calm, self-confident men devoid of nervousness.”81 The commission understood its mandate to reorganize the administration in a holistic sense. The proposals on bureaucrats’ training encroached deeply into the field of the organization of the law curriculum at the universities. Fully along the lines of Josephinism, this was intended to produce graduates optimally prepared for the job requirements of the state administration. This requirement profile included not just the technical competence of jurists, but work organization

79

On the criticism of legal studies, see Hasiba 1988, 252–253. Anträge der Kommission 1913b, 12. 81 Anträge der Kommission 1913b, 25. 80

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and a disciplined and committed, yet non-partisan attitude towards work as well, which was to be promoted even further during practical training.82 The discussion concerning the curricula of studies provides an interesting insight into the decision-making culture of state authorities. The high appreciation for legal training and the dominance of the legal point of view can be explained with the necessity to make legally binding decisions that could stand up to the Administrative Court on appeal. What is remarkable in this regard is the strong linking of objectivity and non-partisanship to the legal perspective. It laid down the standards to be observed by specialists, and only the legally trained civil servant could make binding decisions. He had the voice that was to be heard, as emphasized by a passing remark by the Viennese notary Wagner, who denied “any objectivity and autonomy” on the part of the experts.83 Such an upvaluation of the legal perspective over the technical one produced a completely different emphasis than the one in Great Britain, where the authority of the modern administration was based on the “ethical neutrality of science and technology.”84 Wagner spoke out clearly against the supremacy of scientific epistemology, but nevertheless had to recognize the need for technical competence in the decision-making processes of authorities. He therefore voted for the participation of technical civil servants, even at the county level. It was not to curtail the sole decision-making competence of the head of the authority, however – the only person able to competently weigh the three vectors of legal basis, facts and political opportunity against each other. In its work, the Reform Commission sought solutions allowing better integration of technical and legal competence within the administration. It proceeded from the findings of the survey,85 reflecting critically on the specific kind of prior training the graduates of technical universities began their careers in the civil service with. What had a negative impact, as stated by Commission member Heinrich Ritter von Wittek, a former Railway Minister as well as Prime Minister for a brief period, was the dearth of training in political science: Quite appropriate is the comparison of the training program for the prospective technician with being at the bottom of a deep shaft for many years, from where only a small segment of the sky can be glimpsed. This justifies the complaint that the young technician lacks

82

This concerns the training of a similar persona to the one desirable in the modern British administration. See Joyce 2013, 194. 83 Enquete 1913, 36. 84 Joyce 2013, 192. 85 Anträge der Kommission 1913a, 38.

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insight into the final purpose of his activity, for which technical science is only the means, i.e. to promote the economic welfare of citizens and the state.86

By adopting legal and political science courses into the relevant curricula, technicians would be better prepared for their employment in the public administration. Only then, Wittek thought, could they later be appointed to high-ranking positions.87 With the career opportunities for technicians, Wittek addressed a sore point. Which levels of the administrative career were to be accessible to the technical and medical newcomers? The controversy primarily referred to the post of department head (Sektionschef), the senior civil servant in ministries, as Tezner stated during his hearing: “I think the complaints by technicians essentially concern the fact that they are not accorded the same promotion system as legally trained administrators […], that they cannot become department heads, for instance.”88 The road to these positions was inaccessible to them as long as they did not possess the basic competences of the senior civil servant, i.e. those required for drafting a concept.89 If technicians and physicians were to be organized in separate agencies, the question also arose as to the decision-making powers of the heads of those administrative bodies. Could they possess imperium in the sense of legally binding decisions? The issue of the career opportunities for technicians and physicians is a good example for the fact that the state apparatus was characterized by a twin time lag. On the one hand, it institutionalized the solutions to former social conflicts, as Mann emphasized, and on the other it established structures, processes and procedures on a legal basis that laid down a logic of action for future generations as well. Together, these time lags made the state administration a difficult patient, since new demands had to be mastered in old structures. The newcomers in the state apparatus could not move up the career ladder along the existing routes as long as no alternative decision-making cultures were established. As polymorphous organizations, state authorities integrated various time planes and rationales of action, which rendered the diagnosis of dysfunctionalities and the development of therapeutic measures difficult. The requisite knowledge could only be developed via a dialogue with a heterogeneous group of observers. 86

Anträge der Kommission 1913a, 8. Anträge der Kommission 1913a, 11–15. 88 Enquete 1913, 8. 89 See by contrast the divergent opinion of Adolf Ritter v. Liebenberg: “It was said earlier that technicians were not in a position to write a report. I have experienced the opposite, i.e. that concept officials (Konzeptsbeamte) did not manage to draft the report and requested the technician to write it for them.” Enquete 1913, 25. 87

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Conclusions The debate about a reform of the state and the administration dealt with the growing interpenetration of the state administration and non-state stakeholders. Naturally, the participants in this discussion did not describe the challenges faced by the governance of the Habsburg Monarchy using the terms and concepts the American sociologist Michael Mann would develop more than half a century later. But their arguments nevertheless referred to the changes in the interaction between the state, the economy and society as characterized by Mann. The growing interdependence of social, economic and state stakeholders was a consequence of technological changes, the complexity of supply systems, the expansion of participation in the educational sector and the overall challenge of balancing a plethora of competing interests in the provision of public goods. This placed new demands on the organization of the state apparatus as well as on the persona of the civil servant.90 The eighty experts invited to the survey by the Commission for the Promotion of Administrative Reform in 1912 should, among other things, provide an external view onto the dysfunctionalities in the relationship between the state administration and external stakeholders. With their statements, they generated knowledge about the state that was not confined to a critical look at internal processes, legal programming and individual performance. Above all else, it related to the varying forms of parallelism and co-existence of state and autonomous administration, of legal and technical bodies of knowledge, and of special interest groups and decision-makers at the authorities. The contributions by the experts conveyed a vivid impression of the problems facing the state and administrative reform. A successful reform had to find a solution for the mentioned interpenetration between state and civil society stakeholders. And while interfaces already existed between the state and non-state organizations, between authorities and dignitaries, between the governments and politicians, they were not structural interlocks with transparent procedures, but leverage points for interventions by influential mediators concerning individual decisions. The culture of intervention contradicted the self-image of the bureaucracy, which defined itself through independence and objectivity with ­reference to Hegel and Josephinism. Such an understanding of self was not compatible with non-transparent integration in networks. Civil servants positioned themselves as players outside of partisanship and specific interests, but nevertheless acted within social and political networks. The ­Austrian state 90

On the concept of the persona as a tool in a cultural history of the administration, see Becker & von Krosigk 2008, 23–24.

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in the late Monarchy depended on mediators to create a balance between competing interests. This mediation was not structurally integrated into the decision-making process, which caused both citizens and the state to be dependent on political interests, and the result was a growing politicization of society along national and social divides. The technological and medical know-how required for the provision of public goods could not be provided by recourse to the mediators, however, and for this reason an alternative strategy was chosen and an effort made to replicate the additional areas of knowledge within the administration. But the integration of the newcomers created similar problems to the existing interlocking of state and nonstate stakeholders. It would have been necessary to abandon existing patterns of thinking and replace the bureaucratic procedure with a cooperative decision-making process, which would have allowed the technical experts to issue legally binding decrees in conjunction with the legally trained civil servants. A similar solution was envisaged for the citizens’ participation in the administration – but never realized.

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After “Bureaucratic Absolutism” A Search for New Paradigms in late Imperial Habsburg History1 John Deak How do we think about bureaucracy? And how do we think of bureaucratic empires? We have a tendency to see bureaucracy in terms of officials and officiousness and the mounds of useless paper that growing legions of officialdom produced.2 Conventional wisdoms tell us that bureaucrats are somehow disconnected, both from the crush of progress and from us, the society. Such thinking has long pervaded general treatments of the Habsburg Empire, which has come to be associated with its bureaucracy like no other state. Historians have long maintained the importance of the bureaucracy for the functioning of the diverse and legally complex Habsburg Empire. But, at the same time, Habsburg officials have long been saddled with the burden of either hastening or failing to prevent the fall of the empire. Was it not the bureaucracy that held the ramshackle empire, a state sui generis, together, while at the same time holding it back from joining the modern world of democratic nation states? In the meantime, the historiography of the Habsburg Empire has shifted. Historians no longer assume that this empire was in a period of long-term decline and no longer approach the past as if the crush of progress had to sweep the empire away. Moreover, they have come to these conclusions by focusing on Habsburg economic and political life – in short, by writing about the Habsburg Empire’s civil societies. The question, though, remains, what do we do with the bureaucracy in our new, more complex narratives? Does the recent work that has done much to change our view of civil society alter our inherited image of the bureaucracy as an absolutist, pre-modern 1

2

The author would like to thank the Institute for Scholarship in the Liberal Arts at the University of Notre Dame, which supported the research on which this article is based. In addition, he would like to thank Ms. Morgan Lee for reading and editing a draft of this article. For a discussion of the material aspect of bureaucracy and paperwork, see Kafka 2012.

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institution? In some sense, the new paradigm, that national politics did not mean national disintegration, has created a general (if unstated) picture of Habsburg politics in the final five decades of the monarchy: one of political groups chipping away at the monolithic “state”. But should we consider the state as an opaque block (one that begs political groups to take out their chisels) or can we consider the state as a complex organization too? A further question then, asks how we should write about the last decades of the empire in a way that does not perpetuate these long held understandings of the ­Austrian bureaucracy as the boogeyman of progress and development. Or, more importantly, how do we consciously alter these underlying understandings of Habsburg politics in which civil society is good (and underdeveloped); and administration is bad (and dominant)? Is the dichotomy between state and society a false one or one that merely needs to be reconceptualized? We can get at this problem by thinking about the term bureaucratic absolutism and the type of thinking that it encapsulates. This is more than a complaint about a term. For those of us who work on the Imperial Austrian civil service and its legacies in Habsburg central Europe, the term bureaucratic absolutism has become an intellectual shortcut, channeling our ideas into the same worn chutes, limiting where our thoughts can go, directing what we can think. The purpose of this essay, a thought experiment, is to make scholars more aware of how our assumptions about bureaucracy are due for a reassessment. The essays here in this volume in many ways demonstrate how a scholarly community already is undertaking the task, not only dispensing with the term bureaucratic absolutism, but writing about the state / society relationship in the Habsburg Empire in new ways. In Search of Lost Meanings What does bureaucratic absolutism actually mean? And more importantly, what historical assumptions about state and society has the term stood for within the historiography of the Habsburg Empire and Europe? Our historical training pushes us to “define our terms”. In this case, bureaucratic absolutism has enveloped a spectrum of definitions and is used as intellectual shorthand to make a multitude of varying pejorative judgments on the weakness of constitutional and democratic institutions in central Europe. A natural place to begin our discussion of bureaucratic absolutism is to look at the work of Henry Wickham Steed. Steed served as the Times foreign correspondent in Vienna in the decade leading up to the war. In 1913, he published The Hapsburg Monarchy, a biting criticism of the monarchy’s ­politics and government. Steed found that by the 1900s, Austria had “no innate constitutional sense. Parliament, theoretically armed with weighty

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powers, proves in practice too weak to carry the burden of its accoutrement. The constitution is a respectable cloak for the nakedness of bureaucratic and Imperial absolutism.” Steed likewise finds that a “bureaucratic spirit” pervades policy making in the empire. He introduces readers to the “mystic” formulation, “Justament nöt” – “You just shan’t!” He notes that “bureaucratic obstructionism” is becoming Austria’s biggest problem. “L’état c´est nous!” is the creed of Austria’s administration. One cannot get anything done in Austria without its officials, and to do anything, one must recognize their power and authority. Moving the boulder of state policy means essentially kowtowing to bureaucratic authority, not insisting on one’s rights. One could call these things “Asiatic”, he writes, but “it would be simpler to call such things bureaucratically Austrian.”3 For Steed, therefore, bureaucratic absolutism is shorthand for understanding not only the arbitrary authority of state officialdom in Austria. Steed also casts the state / society relationship in the Habsburg Empire as one between an administration eager to abuse its authority and a populace powerless to stand up to it. Steed works with anecdote and hyperbole; for him the absolutism is more a “spirit” and the self-important ethos of the bureaucracy than anything specific in the law or justice system. Importantly, Steed offers up a paradigm for understanding politics in the monarchy. Writing on the eve of the First World War, Steed sees the spirit of progress, the expansion of wealth, innovation, and freedom, not strangled by decadence or a retreat inward, made famous by cultural and intellectual historians like Carl Schorske or William Johnston.4 Rather Steed argues progress in Habsburg central Europe is strangled by bureaucratic meddling, meddling for its own sake, or meddling by a caste of officials in order to maintain its own self-importance. The result was an administration that often obstructed business and cultural production. Steed gave us a nineteenth-century positivist, even libertarian, criticism of bureaucracy. The bureaucracy, endowed with a pathological Geist, obstructs the natural course of events – a natural course of events that is ultimately progressive. In essence, Steed offers bureaucratic absolutism not as the antithesis of the age, but as a pathological anachronism that had to be defeated so that progress could continue. And if civil society was powerless when confronted by the Habsburg bureaucratic authority, it made it all the more necessary for progressive powers to intervene and break the monarchy apart. Such thinking would undergird Steed’s own anti-Habsburg 3 4

Steed 1913, 72–90. Schorske 1980; Johnston 1972.

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propaganda efforts in the First World War and his works of history on Central Europe in the period between the wars.5 If we move on to Josef Redlich, a short-time official in the provincial Moravian bureaucracy and later independent politician in parliament and a professor of administrative law, we see a different understanding of bureaucratic absolutism, but one that fundamentally falls in line with Steed’s. Redlich dispenses with the idea that the spirit of bureaucracy pervaded Austrian political and social life; he instead focuses on historical specifics. Redlich argues that “bureaucratic centralization” stunted parliamentarism, especially after the Badeni Ministry’s ill-fated languages ordinances of 1897. The government, unable to work with an increasingly fractious parliament, had to rely on the expertise of the bureaucracy instead. Parliamentary members thus had little motivation to act like statesmen and the bureaucracy, by wading deep into the muck of Austrian politics, ended up sullying itself. Patronage, positions, and political favors were doled out to keep the parties happy and on track. Parties worked with the bureaucracy sub-rosa when parliament was closed; moreover, they worked to win appointments for their co-nationals in the bureaucracy. In other words, Redlich finds that by corrupting the parliament to maintain bureaucratic power, the administration was politicizing (and thus corrupting) itself. Redlich essentially spreads the blame for old Austria’s demise as wide as possible, before the Great War began. His two-volume history of the Austrian State and Empire Problem – written just before his analysis of war government – describes a deeply pathological political system: Austria’s illness was essentially congenital, it was part of the empire’s constitutional DNA, which formed during the monarchy’s responses to the Revolutions of 1848, the development of its modern bureaucracy between 1848 and the Great Compromise with Hungary, and the December Constitution in 1867.6 Redlich’s Austrian War Government, published in German in 1925, with an abridged English edition in 1929, follows up on his earlier work. Here, Redlich argues that the pathologies inherent to the bureaucracy’s political involvement metastasized in the medium of war and emergency legislation. It was there, in the early days of the Great War, that a special type of bureaucratic absolutism took hold: Kriegsverwaltung, or War Government. Govern­ mental distrust of political life resulted in the exclusive use of the emergency

5 6

For Steed’s propaganda work in the First World War and his views on Austria-Hungary, see Schuster 1970 and Messinger 1992. Redlich 1920–1926.

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paragraph for enacting laws and legislation.7 Redlich argues that this fundamental distrust of parliamentary politics had disastrous results when it met the very real emergency of the First World War. Massive losses on the eastern front sowed seeds of discord on the fertile ground of bureaucratic absolutism. In such a field, the bureaucracy became a slave to military power, which often enough was willing to turn its capacity for violence against the empire’s own citizens. The result of such absolutism, constitutionally established, extra-constitutionally practiced, and handed over to the empire’s most reactionary institution, was a complete mismanagement of the war.8 With Redlich, the absolutism of the bureaucracy not only created pathological situations within the monarchy, it eventually fell into the wrong hands, leading to the empire’s dissolution. This is a key point, for our understandings of bureaucratic absolutism, and thus Habsburg state / society relations, have been oriented to arguments about persistent political pathologies and the ultimate decline and fall of the empire. Such points reached their early apotheosis in Oscar Jászi´s now classic The Dissolution of the Habsburg Monarchy, published in 1929. This work further hammers out the idea of bureaucratic absolutism. Again, like Redlich, Jászi thinks bureaucratic absolutism perpetuated a stunted parliamentary system. But, like Steed, Jászi finds in this relationship a foul spirit that corrupted the true purpose of parliamentary life. Moreover, Jászi identifies the quickening of this spirit after 1900 during the Ministry of Ernest von Koerber. Here is the crux: in Austria, bureaucratic absolutism is the reappearance of an almost latent character trait, the spirit of obstruction and the corruption of good government. Jászi writes, Under the premiership of the very gifted Ernest von Körber [sic] (1900–1904) this tendency became almost a system as specific as the Metternich or Bach systems were. Under the cover of an elastic ‘liberalism’, even of a flirting with socialism, a bureaucratic absolutism was built up which corrupted the press and the political leaders and made continuous secret ‘national’ compromises with those thundering political orators who openly paralyzed parliament by their continuous obstructionism. But even disregarding this political corruption, the very process of the growing national consciousness had the result of making the old German imperial bureaucracy more and more impotent and unable to deal with the administrative problems of the whole monarchy; and there was an increasing need for more bureaucrats, employing the Czech mother-tongue, in Bohemia, the ­Polish and Ruthenian tongue in Galicia, the Rumanian and Ruthenian in Bukovina, and the Croat and Slovenian in the Jugo-Slav territories. This process would have been in itself ­completely 7

8

This was Paragraph 14 of the Law of 21 December 1867, which laid down the provisions for parliamentary representation. Reichs-Gesetz-Blatt für das Kaiserthum Oesterreich Nr. 141 v. 21. Dezember 1867. Gesetz, wodurch das Grundgesetz über die Reichsvertretung vom 26. Februar 1861 abgeändert wird. Redlich 1925, 1929.

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normal, nay, wholesome, if this natural, national differentiation of the monarchy had been followed by a corresponding federalization of its constitution. But by maintaining the system of a rigid centralization, the newly formed intelligentsia of the various nations got into the imperial offices, one might say, by the back door, often through the conspiring means of the Trojan wooden horse. This new officialdom on a national basis had nothing to do with the old Habsburg state ideal. At the beginning it treated it, with masked and hypocritical sentiments, but later with the growing national tendencies, it left its bureaucratic reserve and went openly into the camp of national struggles. On the other hand, the spirit of the older German bureaucracy still remained the Austrian patriotism without any national color, which began to lose all its reality and which survived only in the minds of the court and old-fashioned Hofrat type. But this Habsburg patriotism became something imaginary, “a pure relation of loyalty, like that of the mercenary to his war lord, which could flourish independently of space and nowhere” (Kleinwaechter). It is only natural that this bureaucratic bodyguard of the Habsburg state idea could not long withstand the attack of the officials belonging to the rising nations whose intolerant vehement nationalism thought more and more of the hour of final liquidation when their own nations would build up their own independent states and national bureaucracy.9

There is a lot here worth unpacking, but it may be worthwhile to point out that bureaucratic absolutism, and thus a pathological state / society relationship that the term stands for, is tied to a larger process of national dissolution. The idea of centrifugal forces – the nations pulling apart from the Habsburg state – took on increasing significance in historiography as the collapse of the Habsburg Empire faded further into the past. The Europe of the t­ wentieth century, the one divided into nationalizing (and eventually linguistically homogeneous) nation-states, became the norm with which Europe’s past was judged. Twentieth-century nation states increasingly became seen as natural entities meant to politically divide human beings. Thus, as the twentieth century moved on, bureaucratic absolutism took on an ethnic dimension and the bureaucracy came increasingly to be seen as an organization with an ethnic affiliation which allied itself with German national politics in Cisleithania and Hungarian national politics in Transleithania.10 The landscape of central European historiography has changed, however. No longer do historians see nations as natural, but using their historical tools, they see them as historically contingent entities. What has followed has been an attack on received national narratives and the very historicization of nationalization. Such a rewriting of the history of the nation has fundamentally altered our views of national politics and nationalities in the Habsburg Empire. Now national politics are seen as less inherently pathological; there is no longer the belief that the development of the national idea led directly 9

10

Jászi 1929, 167–168. For these arguments, see especially, Kann 1974, chapter 8.

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to the downfall of the monarchy. In fact, scholarship since the 1970s has collectively emphasized the political vibrancy of the monarchy – and not just in German- or Hungarian-speaking regions.11 The historical consensus regarding the domestic politics of the monarchy tells us that the monarchy was hardly the “prison of the peoples” or the “sick man on the Danube” that the old narratives and national histories have made it out to be. New scholarship emphasizes instead a dynamic political culture and an increasing role of the public and their elected officials in the ever-expanding number of social welfare and public spending programs – often re-writing the narratives of nationalism in the process.12 This type of Habsburg revisionism has replaced the conventional narratives of “absolutist government and political anarchy among the nationalities” with a vibrant civil society and expanding democratic and interest group activity.13 This work on nationalization has led many historians of the Habsburg Monarchy to give up on the “long decline” thesis, which depended on another intellectual shorthand: that modernization meant nationalization and nationalization pulled the monarchy apart. A full generation of scholars has worked within the paradigm that “the important fact about the monarchy before 1918 was not that it fell apart, but that it proved capable of surviving for so long.”14 These revisions have yet to make it outside the boundaries of domestic scholarship and find their way into a more general, European historiography, but they now seem firmly established within the field itself. But how then do we see the bureaucracy of this large empire when we are no longer prepared to say that the polity was in decline? It may be time to reassess some fundamental assumptions that have undergirded traditional historiography, but also the ways that the Habsburg revisionist school has thought about state and society in the Habsburg Monarchy, and the bureaucracy’s role as a bridge between the two. ***

11

Paradigmatic for this new history were the major publications on Habsburg domestic politics by John W. Boyer, Gary B. Cohen and Jan Křen in the 1980s: Boyer 1981; Cohen 2006 (first published 1981); Křen 1996 (original Czech edition 1990). 12 The works on Bohemian history have been instrumental here. See, above all, King 2002; Judson 2006; Wingfield 2007; Zahra 2008. 13 For two exceedingly good and comprehensive essays on how the field of Habsburg ­history has been changed, see Cohen 1998 and 2007. 14 Boyer 1981, xiv.

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Max Weber, in his essay “Politics as Vocation”, does not only describe the choices inherent in becoming a professional politician. Part and parcel of Weber’s analysis meant understanding that government and policy making became increasingly complex as institutions of representation emerged and exercised power. In other words, representative government, the expansion of the suffrage, and the very nature of representative–constituent relationships make states responsible for so much more. This means that it is not necessarily arbitrary authority, or a bureaucracy flexing its powerful muscles, but representation and legislative bodies that make the state and the administration bigger. As representatives bring services to their constituents through legislation, they simultaneously conjure into being experts who are employed by the state to inspect roads, buildings, and bridges, draft agricultural and veterinary legislation, and to ensure that the state’s services are performed correctly. The push to open the world of policy making to representatives of the people thus had, as its parallel effect, the expansion and growth of state officials, of experts, of bureaucrats.15 The expansion of the state apparatus occurred in the Habsburg Empire alongside its neighbors and great-power competitors, which have received more admiration: states such as France, Germany, and the United States.16 But the narrative of state building, democratic development, and the modernization of western states largely leaves out much of central and eastern Europe. We see such omissions again and again, from the Sonderweg thesis in German historiography, to treatments of Russian Tsardom, and the post1900 regime in Cisleithania. Not only do these larger treatments of European history leave out the Habsburg Empire, they conveniently ignore an important concept that many of us who study administrative history intrinsically know: bureaucracy is not the enemy of liberalism, but what representation and democratic development promoted and grew. Moreover, democracy and bureaucracy are false antonyms. Administration, to use a less pejorative term, is in the twenty first century inherent to modern democratic societies. Bureaucracy is the instrument of parliaments, presidents, and elected representatives to “accomplish the complex social tasks” that the people charge their elected representatives to do. Bureaucratic power seems like a perniciously boring thing, filled with tedium and routine, and meant to be invisible and controlling. But concentrated authority in the state and its officials structured how the Habsburg Monarchy developed, both in terms of infrastructure and institutions of political representation, over the course of 15 16

Weber 2004, 32–94; Weber 1978, 956–1005. Weber 1976; Süle 1988; Gillis 1971.

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the long nineteenth century. Bureaucracy and the growth of it should not be disconnected from political development, from representative institutions, the birth of the public, or from democratic development. In essence, if we understand that representative government and democratic development breeds bureaucracy, we can see how odd the idea of bureaucratic absolutism as a concept for understanding the dynamics of the Habsburg Monarchy and early ­twentieth-century Europe really is. What we need then is a new attitude when writing about bureaucracy, administration, and the politics of Austria and Hungary in the six decades before the First World War. My own work on state building and the Austrian administration as a political institution has convinced me that an approach which moves beyond seeing Austria-Hungary as a prison of nations and its bureaucratic apparatus as the architects and wardens of the jail, will not only be fruitful, but necessary to recapture the fullness and promise of Habsburg central Europe before the First World War. Ultimately, such a perspective will go a long way in helping historians and students alike appreciate the scope of the tragedies of the twentieth century. As a start, I suggest that, as we try to evade the paradigm of bureaucratic absolutism, we recognize how the state institutions and the imperial bureaucracy engaged Austria’s various political factions. This interaction was at times messy, as Martin Klečacký shows us in an article on Czech judicial appointments in this volume. But it also meant that the peoples of the Habsburg Empire sought to become part of the state apparatus and do much of the mediation between state and s­ ociety themselves. A perspective that considers such engagements has a certain advantage: in addition to the nationality politics that occurred in parliament and at the ministerial level, the Habsburg state operated through bureaucratic institutions at lower political levels as well. Thus central state institutions and officials were present at the regional level, where the head of the district administration often engaged with local politics; as well as the provincial level, where the imperial governors observed and intervened in crownland politics. In other words, beyond simple repression, there was engagement.17 This emerged, and not by accident, in the administrative reforms and constitutional experiments after the revolution of 1848. Following new “governance perspectives” in the realm of political science and sociology, we can trace the deepened engagement between the Habsburg administration and the empire’s citizenry throughout the nine-

17

Peter Becker’s excellent piece on the 1912 Enquête in this volume is an example of the engagement between state and society that occurred in the last decades of the monarchy.

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teenth century.18 The constitutional innovations that followed the revolutions of 1848 did much to create representative institutions, in the form of regional and district legislatures, town councils, school boards, and chambers of commerce. But those innovations also spelled out and were accompanied, every step of the way, with administrative innovations in the form of regulations, administrative reforms, new bureaucratic offices and office buildings that developed parallel to representation. We can see this parallel growth of representative politics and administrative authority in the works of Count Franz Stadion, who headed the Interior Ministry at the end of the revolutions of 1848. Moreover, recognizing the parallelism of politics and bureaucracy allows us appreciate the careful ­balancing act that Stadion sought to accomplish as he brought the revolution to an end, harness its innovations, and restore order. In five short months, Stadion would create a constitutional framework whose structures would undergird the Austrian state until is collapse in the First World War. The key to this framework was its main architectural feature: dual-track administration, or in Austrian bureaucratese, Doppelgleisigkeit. The dual-track meant that administration was essentially divided between an “autonomous” administration – the elected parliamentary bodies – and what was termed the “political administration”, which was an office, staffed by officials and led by a juridically-trained bureaucrat. At the level of the crownlands, policy-making was to be determined by a crownland assembly which shared authority with the governor, called a Statthalter in the larger crownlands and a Landespräsident in the smaller ones. Districts (Kreise) would likewise share this principle. They would be led by a district-prefect, a juridically-trained official, who supervised a staff of state officials and consulted with an elected district assembly, or Kreistag. Likewise, the much smaller counties (Bezirke) were led by a county-prefect, who consulted with a county assembly or council.19 There are two sides to this, of course. On the one hand, Stadion thought that officials, loyal to the Austrian state, should guide and channel local politics. On the other hand, elected representatives who sat on parliamentary bodies at the various levels of government would interact with an official 18

19

Meier & O’Toole 2006. While the dual-track system at the crownland level was introduced in 1861 and existed until the end of the monarchy, the plans on the district and county level were never realized. Only three crownlands (Bohemia, Styria and Galicia) introduced elected bodies on a lower level, corresponding with the much smaller judicial districts (Gerichtsbezirke). In general, a county (Bezirkshauptmannschaft) combined at least two, usually more, ­judicial districts. For example, by 1914 the province of Upper Austria had 15 counties and 46 ­judicial districts.

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who was responsible for the same jurisdictional territory. In essence, the parliamentary body was responsible for managing the property and funds of a given territory, while the official was responsible for implementing government policy in the same region. This system corresponded to an administrative structure which balanced autonomous councils – elected by voting citizens – on the one hand, and state administrative offices led by a prefect, on the other. The other side of this coin was that Stadion’s dual-track system institutionalized public involvement. Stadion based his new governmental system on elected citizens working together with the state administration. In this way, the system created unity and stability through the active participation of sectors of the public in Austria’s governance. Political participation was meant to be the glue holding Stadion’s administrative reform, his restructuring of the empire on a centralist course, together.20 Stadion likewise thought that public participation would guide the administration, provide it with a spirit of innovation, and invigorate its activities. This principle, inlayed into the dual-track framework, received an explicit articulation in Stadion’s March Constitution of 1849 and his Provisional Municipalities Law, released two weeks later. Though these laws would structure the empire for years to come, at first it was not so. The cooperation (Mitwirkung) that Stadion envisioned did not receive its implementation under the leadership of his successor, Alexander Bach. In fact, the main impetus of the reform absolutism of the 1850s was to make the bureaucracy big and far reaching. Numerous new positions were created under Bach only to be partially dismantled during the constitutional reforms of the 1860s. It was in that period of constitutional experimentation, with the promulgation of the October Diploma (1860), February Patent (1861), the Imperial Municipalities Law (1862), and the Great Compromise and December Constitution (1867) that Bach’s over large bureaucracy was diminished in favor of the reestablishment of many of the representative institutions that Stadion envisioned. At the same time, many of the tasks of the bureaucracy devolved to municipal councils, district assemblies (only in Bohemia, Styria and Galicia), and crownland diets in the provinces. This had two effects. Firstly, it reduced state expenditures on the administration – at least in the imme­diate aftermath of the constitutional reforms. Secondly, and even more importantly, it resurrected Stadion’s institutionalization of the governmental role of representative institutions. It was in these conditions that the administration underwent steady growth alongside the deepening of politics and the step-by-step expansion 20

Deak 2015, chapter 2; Rock 1995.

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of the ­suffrage. By the time universal and equal manhood suffrage came to ­Cisleithanian Austria in 1907, this process had been going on for forty years.21 Moreover, politicians in the Austrian countryside wanted the bureaucracy to grow, because more state attention meant more state services, more state spending, and more civilization meant more prestige. We can witness this process if we look at the local level of Austrian society. For instance, between 1890 and 1910 the town of Grieskirchen in Upper Austria waged a campaign to establish a new county prefecture (Bezirkshauptmannschaft) within its boundaries. In fact, the town produced a memorandum in 1899 and sent it to the Imperial Governor of Upper Austria and the Minister of the Interior. The memo provides a fascinating document on how local politicians wanted to invite the state into their regions and towns. In fact, it argued explicitly for the creation of a new administrative district. Grieskirchen argued that “the steady progress of cultural needs, along with the increase in the population itself, has increased the work of the administrative authorities in all of the crownlands of the Austrian Monarchy.” Upper Austria was no exception to this general trend. Grieskirchen explicitly pointed to delays in the work of the state, due to the amount of work that needed to be done. ­Necessary improvements in water regulation and infrastructure were especially needed. “It is of pressing necessity, therefore,” the memo argued, “that new counties are also established in Upper Austria.” The memo quoted statistics showing that the current county prefecture, centered in the city of Wels, was overburdened with tasks and population. It argued that Gries­kirchen’s good infrastructure, its central location among a number of towns, and its road and rail network made it the perfect location for a new county office. The town promised the government favorable conditions and aid in housing the state administrators who would have to set up shop and live in the town. That memo fell on stony ground; but the city council continued to sow the field throughout the 1900s with more memos, petitions, and resolutions.22 At the same time the town of Eferding, about 20 km away from Grieskirchen, petitioned the government with the same idea and similar arguments. Its memo began with a poetic introduction about the crush of progress: “The flow of modernity surges without respite, unendingly forward. In our age its tempo seems to have doubled.” Eferding’s memo worked to sabotage Grieskirchen’s arguments, writing that the surrounding towns of Peuerbach, Haag, and Waizenkirchen did not want to be incorporated into 21

22

Boyer 2013; Jenks 1950. Oberösterreichisches Landesarchiv (OÖLA) Linz, unnumbered memo in StP Sch 523. See also LAPräs Sch.11. L.A.Präs. 250 ex 1905.

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a county centered around Grieskirchen; establishing a county prefecture in Eferding would be a better solution. Finally, the town also promised the state that if it were to create a prefecture in Eferding, it would “not incur increasing costs and that the city council generously would accommodate the respective needs and wishes [of the state]”, implying subsidies, favorable rents, and housing.23 The competition between Grieskirchen and Eferding ended with a victory for Grieskirchen, which became the seat of a new county office in 1910. The price for such an office was not cheap. Grieskirchen promised to provide the county offices for free and to cover the costs of constructing a new street to the building. The state would continue the negotiation process for the free accommodation of its officials there as well. In other words, the town of Grieskirchen subsidized the offices of the central state after campaigning for over ten years to bring the state in. This campaigning was done by the local city magistrate, which had even voted unanimously in 1905 to endorse this campaign.24 Lest we think that this campaigning for a larger role of the state in local society merely took place in the German-speaking areas, we can find evidence stretching back into the 1880s, which speaks to the need for the expansion of the bureaucratic apparatus in Bohemia, Moravia, Galicia, the Bukovina, Dalmatia, and Tyrol. In these places, the administration, bending under the strain of working with elected officials, implementing new laws passed by provincial assemblies and the imperial parliament, and responding to the needs of infrastructure building, desperately demanded new officials, new offices, and more funds. In 1888, Prime Minister Count Eduard Taaffe sent an official request to the Emperor asking him to sign off on extraordinary increases in personnel in some of Austria’s crownlands. Taaffe reported that “The agendas of the administration have […] doubled in the Governorates and have tripled in the county offices since the current organization of the administration was implemented in 1868.” This was due, Taaffe added, “to the natural growth of tasks that accompany the growth of population” but more importantly, “to the many new laws which place new burdens on the administration.” In the Austrian hinterland, more representation meant more laws, more infrastructure, and needed – in the end – more state

23

24

OÖLA, StP Sch. 523. Protokoll Nr. 2134/PR, dated 22 May 1910 (Original Z. 2715/MdI). OÖLA, LAPräs Sch 11, resolution of the municipal council of Grieskirchen on 15 July 1905, filed with L.A.Präs. 250 ex 1905.

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personnel.25 Such dynamics joined the disparate parts of the m ­ onarchy together, from Peuerbach in the Hausruckviertel in Upper Austria, to ­Przemyśl in the middle of Galicia. The question remains, how should we read the actions of Grieskirchen and Eferding? What does it mean that these municipalities of between two and three thousand souls competed to be the location of state offices and even were willing to subsidize the housing and infrastructure for imperial offices? What does it mean that Taaffe’s Iron Ring proposed new bureaucratic offices and positions all over the monarchy to handle all of their new laws and directives? Certainly it means we need to continue to search for new ways to conceptualize the relationships between state and society in the Habsburg Monarchy. Bureaucratic absolutism as a historian’s shortcut does not save us time with a useful, ready-made concept; it just saves us from thinking, from appreciating complexity, and from not seeing the world in black and white. As Taaffe wrote to the emperor to approve more civil servants in Bohemia and as the town councils of Eferding and Grieskirchen competed to woo the state into their municipalities, they were responding to a need and wish of many of the monarchy’s middle classes: economic opportunities and modernization. In other words, historians of the Habsburg ­Monarchy and of European history before the First World War need to understand that bureaucracy, so often used as a concretization of the state, was understood by citizens of Europe’s empires as bringing modernity and progress and not merely an instrument of absolutist power. Understanding that the bureaucracy was seen as a good allows us to make greater sense of the nineteenth century and the longevity of the Habsburg State. It also gets us beyond bureaucratic absolutism, which has become as tired as it is ­simplistic. If we look ahead from the Habsburg Monarchy into the middle of central Europe’s twentieth century we can imagine what a powerful bureaucracy could do: it could also be a safeguard against inappropriate use of power by monarchs, dictators, and military government. In many ways, our Habsburg bureaucratic absolutists showed capabilities of doing such things before 1914. But during and after the First World War, they could not and did not.26 Part of our task, I think, is to explain both the possibilities and the lost opportunities of central Europe’s state-serving Bildungsbürgertum. Doing so, however, may require a divorce from political narratives which 25

Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Allgemeines Verwaltungsarchiv (ÖStA, AVA), Inneres, Ministerium des Innern (MdI) A 87, Taaffe’s proposal dated 25 July 1888 in Z. 3092 / MdI. 26 Fattmann 2001; Mommsen 1966; Caplan 1988; Enderle-Burcel & Follner 1997.

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seek to ground stories of progress and emancipation of the people against the administration. In his 1946 essay, Politics and the English Language, George Orwell warns his readers to avoid foolish thoughts by consciously avoiding foolish language. Bad writing corrupts thinking: ready-made phrases “construct your sentences for you – even think your thoughts for you, to a certain extent – and at need they will perform the important service of partially concealing your meaning even from yourself.”27 The term bureaucratic absolutism carries with it many unexamined assumptions, value judgments, and a grand narrative arc of which historians of the Habsburg Monarchy are now deeply critical. More than just jettisoning the term as an example of lazy thinking, we should begin to confront what the term has meant for so long. Only then can we find new meanings and new connections, far away from our common intellectual short cuts. When we dispense with the idea of bureaucratic absolutism, we are left with a blank slate of Habsburg history. The history of the Habsburg Empire has been largely dominated by the assumptions of Redlich and others that have seen the state and society as fundamentally at odds. Such assumptions served to provide the background of official histories of the successor states, painting a bleak past in order to justify the present. The reality, of course, was more complex; the relationship to the state administration, that ­supposedly absolutist institution, to a larger democratizing, modernizing world, was much less at odds than the historiography would lead us to believe. If we turn our attention to this complexity, if we dispense with bureaucratic absolutism and see how the bureaucracy is a modern institution, one that the monarchy shared with its European neighbors, and one that citizens worked with and wished for, we will go a long way to not only grasping the complexity and vibrancy of the multinational Habsburg Monarchy. We will also take vital steps toward completely rewriting that monarchy’s history. That is no small task; but an essential one if we are to understand Europe’s past and gaze into its future.

27

Orwell 1994, 355.

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