l'Autriche, une voie particulière en Europe ?

The unique path of Austria in Europe. Throughout

our RDVG sessions, we have examined various European countries and

analysed the EU’s geopolitical landscape. Yet

Austria offers a notably different perspective, shaped by

a singular position within the continent and its distinct vision for Europe. Our discussion on Austria today

also serves to provide broader geopolitical insights, in conversation with

Fabrice Ravel. Hello, Fabrice.

Hello, Olivier. Hello everyone. Our title is clear: The

unique path of Austria in Europe. The word ‘unique’ immediately

stands out. In what sense, then, is Austria’s

position so unique? ‘The rest is Austria’. Attributed to Clemenceau, this quote opens

Hélène de Lauzun’s brilliant history of Austria. It is

a beautifully written work, for which she deserves

immense credit, particularly as it navigates a series of events that are

—as we shall see—singularly complex and difficult to recount. It is true that, even if Clemenceau

did not really say those words, the sentiment resonates.

We can clearly see something quite singular taking shape—and, crucially,

if this is ‘the rest’ (what remains), it implies

the existence of a predecessor that was

both vaster and far more powerful. So what remains? This question

perhaps allows us to sketch out a concept

—or an answer, as you’ve invited us to do—to help identify

the defining features of modern-day Austria. One point, in particular,

stands out: the fact that, upon closer inspection,

Austria remains one of the few EU countries

that is not a member of NATO. In fact, only four EU countries

are not in NATO. Austria, the Republic of Ireland (Eire), Cyprus,

and Malta. To appreciate

the full significance of this, we should also bear in mind that

several countries outside the European Union are,

in fact, members of NATO. I am thinking specifically of Norway

—a founding member of NATO— and, of course, the recent accession

of Finland in 2023, followed by Sweden in 2024. These examples alone demonstrate that

Austria is not only in a unique situation,

but is also standing apart from the wider momentum

towards joining NATO that is now taking hold

across the rest of Europe. Clearly, however, there are

difficulties between Washington and

Europe regarding these issues. This first example

demonstrates that we are, indeed, dealing with a country

in a unique situation. This is a distinctive feature,

but it is only one among several. What are the others? I think we can identify at least three,

because as we look at the timeline, we’ll see that Austria

didn’t join the European Union until 1 January 1995.

That’s late. It’s very late,

especially if we take a moment to look at this map and

consider its position in Europe, in Central Europe or ‘Mitteleuropa’,

to use a specific term in Austrian civilisation,

culture and history. I’ll also point out that between the

founding of the EEC —the precursor to the current European Union—

with the Treaty of Rome on 25 March 1957, there were three successive enlargements: 1ᵉʳ

January first in 1973, 1981 and 1986, with six further states

joining the original six. It is evident that Austria

waited a significant amount of time before joining

the European Union, and the move was clearly not as straightforward

as many believe. That is the first example I think

we should highlight. A second, rarely mentioned

point is Austria’s current geographical

context. What would looking at the map

actually reveal? Broadly speaking, according to the

established chronology of treaties,

the country has existed since late 1918 or early 1919. In essence, the country in

its current form is only 106 years old, making it

a remarkably young state. Furthermore, we should consider

the Anschluss of 12 March 1938, when Austria was absorbed

by Germany. This was ratified by a plebiscite on 10 April,

meaning that Austria ceased to be an independent state

and was instead part of

Greater Germany until 8 May 1945. We should thus deduct seven from the 106-year

total, leaving us with a country that —ironically—is less than a century old;

99 years, to be exact. While this may be more common

in Eastern Europe today, we are clearly observing a phenomenon

quite different from that of countries with much deeper historical roots

—specifically the ones in Western Europe. We might also add a third point,

albeit from a slightly different

perspective: when considering contemporary

Austria, we can see that it’s a state of relatively modest scale in

terms of both its population and its land area. Specifically, Austria’s population

of approximately 9.2 million ranks it 14th among

the 27 European Union Member States and 99th globally. In terms of land area,

Austria covers approximately 84,000 km², which is 13th among

EU Member States. Overall, these are relatively

modest rankings. Why focus on demographics

and land area? I would argue that these

two factors, taken alongside its late entry into the

European Union and its detached relationship with NATO, suggest that Austria is somewhat removed from the geopolitical centre—perhaps even

a little inconspicuous. However, if we examine

its history more closely and begin to delve deeper, we’ll realise that

a certain undercurrent is starting to emerge—one capable of

grabbing our attention. I tend to describe this as a kind of

geopolitical musicality —a concept that may lead us

toward considerations quite different from our

current focus. Indeed, relatively recent history shows a

tendency towards greater withdrawal from international affairs. But looking at Austria’s history over a longer

timeline reveals deep geopolitical roots, which certainly offers

some insightful lessons. Four key lessons strike me as particularly

important, which is why we’ll explore Austria’s connection to them

and how they help to gain a better grasp of the broader geopolitical picture. One: Neutrality. Two: Power. Three: the European Framework. This term may be a bit

more surprising. Finally, there is a term that may,

at first glance, seem more generic than ‘geopolitics’.

Four: the end. However, I should remind our audience that the

concept of the ‘end’ is perhaps something to which we must pay

particular attention in geopolitics. Fabrice, I suggest we go

through each of these points in turn. Let’s begin with neutrality.

We have already touched upon this at RDVG,

but Austria’s specific case may shed further light on the subject of neutrality. Quite right. I will need to reiterate this. We did indeed devote a RDVG session

to neutrality. In this instance,

it is clear that Austria’s neutrality is both a political neutrality

and a deliberate neutrality. That is very important to explain; and you quite rightly referred to

a previous session of RDVG that addresses

whether neutrality is possible in geopolitics. Our main point was that neutrality essentially falls into

three categories. First, there is historical neutrality,

where a country has held this stance over the very long term

—Sweden is a notable example. Then there is geographical neutrality.

Here, a country’s location —specifically its proximity to an adversary—

effectively forces it to remain neutral. Here, it is worth noting Finland and

the concept of ‘Finlandisation’, which are perhaps the very

considerations that demand closer attention in the

context of modern conflict. However, Austrian neutrality is

a more ‘poetic’ form of neutrality, and I shall explain why in a moment. I should point out, Olivier,

that Finland, Sweden, and Austria all joined the European Union

on 1 January 1995. All three held a

neutral stance and, by definition —though we may return to this

in future RDVG sessions—bringing three countries with such a geopolitical background into the fold

was anything but neutral. Returning to Austria:

its neutrality was political and deliberate. It is essential to understand

that after 8 May 1945, Austria was occupied by the four Allied powers,

including the Soviet Union. We should bear this in mind

because this situation continued until

1955 with the Belvedere Treaty, signed in May 1955. Under the terms of this treaty,

the Allies—and the Soviet Union in particular—agreed to

withdraw in exchange for Austrian neutrality. This was ratified by an

additional treaty in July 1955. These details

are particularly crucial because it was a deliberate choice that

Austria subsequently enshrined in all subsequent texts. But it is clear that

this was a move intended to appease

the Soviets. Because the first thing to consider

is that Austria is once again a unique case. It is the only

country that the USSR left of their own accord following a Cold War occupation. For one need only recall

the events in East Berlin in 1953, Budapest in 1956,

Prague in 1968—as well as Poland in 1980, specifically Gdansk

and Solidarność— to realise that, as a rule,

the Soviet Army was hardly inclined to

leave of its own accord. It was therefore clear

that, in exchange for this withdrawal, Austria emphasised its non-aligned status

—specifically regarding Western alliances. This explains why it joined neither NATO nor

the EEC, and remained outside the EU. That, it seems to me,

is quite important to highlight. Crucially, this was

an intentional political act, as the evidence

clearly demonstrates. Indeed, if we look at

the Austrian National Day, we see that it falls on the

anniversary of the 1955 enactment

of the laws on neutrality. It is worth noting that

while some nations’ national holidays are built on

military pride or an assertion of

geopolitical power, Austria’s choice

represents —as we shall see—

a formal confirmation that the country is following a path that is

distinct from its European neighbours. You mentioned that some countries

project a greater display of power —which is certainly not the case for Austria—

and this leads us directly to the very concept of 'power' in geopolitics. What can we learn from

Austria in this respect? Historically, one might argue that

Austria embodies the very essence of power. It was the very essence of power. This is where we arrive at

something quite unique. If we take

a long-term historical perspective

—spanning several centuries— it becomes clear that

Austria was not only a major power, but arguably

the greatest power on the European continent;

this offers a dizzying perspective when compared to

the decline we are witnessing today. Here, the first point we need to make is

to recall that it was a great power. It is rather intriguing to note that

perhaps the best way to demonstrate Austria’s status as a great power is the

fact that, initially, we are quite at a loss as to what term

to apply to the country throughout its history. As it turns out,

one of the pre-eminent authorities for this

history is Jean Bérenger, who authored a work

called A History of the Habsburg Empire. In short, we’re looking at

a territory—and we shall return to this point— that appears so complex

that the only appropriate term to describe it is

the name of its ruling dynasty. This point is further

reinforced by the author Pieter Judson

in The Habsburg Empire:

A New History, which

confirms that we are dealing with a designation of an

essentially different kind. To take this

a step further: if we look at the back cover of the book,

the very first line asks why and how the Habsburg Empire

'mattered so much, for so long,

to millions of Central Europeans' —shaping their

lives across centuries. It feels as if this encapsulates everything,

and one can clearly sense a profound irony here, given the points we first raised. In a similar vein, if we return to

the book by Hélène de Lauzun, her foreword (page

8 - French version) makes a fascinating point. She explains that

even though she wanted to focus strictly on Austria as it looks on

the map today, she simply couldn't do it.

As a historian, she had no choice but to go back into the past. Should we be confined to

the medieval duchy of the 12th and 13th centuries? Or ought we to look at

the full range of territories involved —returning to what Peter

Judson said: the problem is that while it should be

called the 'Austrian Empire' between 1804 and 1867, from 1867 to 1918, it should instead be referred to as

the Austro-Hungarian Dual Monarchy. We also realise here that we’re

dealing with a power that must have carried considerable weight, simply by virtue of

having to change its name over the centuries. If you look at Jean

Bérenger’s book, the subtitle is 1273 to 1918. So, we’re looking at a power

spanning over 600 years. After all that,

what is so unique about it? At this point, it is worth

contemplating the two maps on the screen right now. The maps of Europe in 1914 and 1921

depict a continent utterly transformed once the peace

treaties had dismantled the established order; Versailles in June 1919, of course,

but specifically the Treaty of Saint-Germain-en-Laye concerning Austria in

September, and the Treaty of Trianon for Hungary in 1920. Now, looking objectively from

a geopolitical perspective, what can we observe? There’s an almost natural

sense of balance across the map. It is clear, that Austria-Hungary possessed

one major advantage: it blocked any potential expansion by

the Russian or German Empires. Suddenly, however,

we are confronted with a dilemma. The dissolution of Austria-Hungary

into the fragmented states visible on the 1921 map created

a profound vacuum. This sudden disappearance of

a central power left a void that was

certain to fan the smouldering embers of nationalism

—fires which, in 1920, threatened to engulf the entire

region, despite the stabilising role the Empire had previously held. This is a colossal error in the

understanding of geopolitical dynamics. There is a supreme historical irony:

the Austrians, as the sole remaining German- speaking state, and moved by

a nostalgia for their former power, were inevitably tempted—at least once in

their history—by the prospect of joining Greater Germany. I use this notion of supreme irony because of

the intensity with which Austria and Prussia fought to control Central Europe,

rendering the shift all the more contradictory. The idea that Austria

might suddenly reintegrate into a Greater Germany in the 1920s or 1930s is,

after all, fundamentally at odds with six or seven centuries of

geopolitical reality. A significant historical legacy surely

remains, particularly regarding Austria’s role within Europe, its

distinct vision for the European framework and corresponding objectives. I am convinced that

this is a key point that deserves far more emphasis than it currently receives. Two themes are central

to our analysis: demographics

and framework. Examining the dual

lenses of demographics and framework can help discern

a broader issue that extends into the future. Though it may initially appear unrelated,

it is fundamentally intertwined with the European framework. First, let’s start with demographics. In 1914, the

Austro-Hungarian Dual Monarchy had a population of 51 million. Let’s take these

figures for Austria and compare them with

France. In 1914, France had a population of

41 million. This gives us a better idea of

the sheer scale of its power. But look at the

population figures—what do they actually tell us? It was a vast tapestry: Germans—or at least

German-speaking Austrians— Hungarians, Czechs,

and Slovaks, alongside Poles, Romanians, Serbs,

Croats, and Slovenes, as well as Italians

and Ruthenians. Perhaps our audience

might know what the Ruthenian population

is called today and, by extension, to identify where

that particular region of the Austro-Hungarian Empire

would be located on a contemporary map. It is a fascinating question,

and I suspect our friend in production,

Philippe La Roque, will provide a contemporary map to illustrate

this particular region. The key point here is that with 10 or 11

nationalities living together, some kind of political framework became inevitable. It leads to a federal framework, as the coexistence of ten or eleven

different nationalities demanded such a structure. Interestingly, to move our discussion forward,

we should look at what

the great Austrian writers like Joseph Roth had to say.

He was struck by something quite remarkable:

that despite all their differences in faith and culture,

there was this extraordinary, inexplicable will to live together.

You see it in his descriptions of August 18th —the Emperor’s birthday—

where everyone would stand up and sing

the national anthem in unison. One clearly perceives

a fundamentally different dynamic—a broader outlook that stands in stark contrast to the

nationalism of the 20th century. So, we’re looking at a federal framework. There’s also another point that really

backs up the picture we’re trying to paint here. A comparison of the biographies of

Archduke Franz Ferdinand —specifically by

Jean-Louis Thiérot and Jean-Paul Bled—reveals

a consistent theme. It turns out that by 1914, the

Crown Prince was actually planning to expand this federal model.

Until then, it had really been a two-way split between the

Austrians and the Hungarians, but he wanted to open it up to the Czechs,

the Slovaks, and all the other peoples of the realm. The subtitle of the

first biography—From Mayerling to Sarajevo— suggests that

the assassination on 28 June 1914 was a catastrophic turning point. Why would I emphasize

this aspect? Because, Olivier, I really feel that

federalism isn’t properly understood. This holds especially

true for France, where a long-standing heritage of

centralism ensures that federalist principles continue to be viewed

as somewhat alien. But here, it seems to me

that a mistake needs correcting, or even a misinterpretation

requires a response. All too often,

federalism is dismissed as the death knell of the nation-state.

It is portrayed as an authoritarian weight or

a prison of peoples —to borrow a well-known expression from the

late 19th and early 20th centuries. That strikes me as

a basic misreading of the reality. Why? Because, on closer inspection,

federalism represents the exact opposite. It focuses exclusively on

geopolitics, defence,

diplomacy and, by extension, military affairs.

At the same time, it grants full autonomy to the peoples and nations—I stress that word,

nations—within the federation to decide all other matters

as they see fit. This stands in stark contrast to

the Europe of today —a project that appears to

find its only purpose in being a source of norms or a facilitator

of the internal market. I believe we can also dismiss the common

refrain that a ‘European federal army’—to use

the current media buzzword— would be unwilling to fight. The sceptics

argue that such a force would never defend a country it feels no bond with, or bleed

for a flag that carries no emotional emotional weight. But that view

is fundamentally flawed. This is where Henri Ortholan’s work

proves invaluable. It’s a history of the

Astro-Hungarian Army from 1867 to 1918. This book is exceptionally

detailed, but I believe that its

core finding is clear: Contrary to the expectations of the

Allies in 1914-1915, and in spite of the narratives that emerged

after the Great War, the Austro-Hungarian Army fought with

exemplary courage. Even when faced with resources far inferior to

its enemies, it held firm on three fronts simultaneously:

the Eastern, the Balkan, and the Italian.

This was not an army that simply imploded; rather, it only began to disintegrate

under the weight of political upheaval within the Dual Monarchy and the eventual

collapse of the Central Powers. In my view, this is one of the most significant lessons

that Austrian history offers the world of geopolitics. There is one final term—a word inextricably linked to

geopolitics and associated with Austria. Namely: the ‘end’. That opens a dramatic dimension. How and why should we link Austria

to this dramatic dimension? Austria’s history and its end offers us

a vital geopolitical lesson: we must remember that

no state is immortal. As we reflect on the nature of

this end, two words inevitably

spring to mind: brutality and chaos. To truly

capture the sheer scale of this for our audience, I’d point to one book by

Jean-Paul Bled, and the title says it all:

L’Agonie d’une monarchie, jusqu’en 1920; which literally translates into English as The Death Throes of a Monarchy: Up to 1920. From the title alone, it’s clear we are

in for a harrowing journey. And ‘harrowing’ is exactly the right word,

because this author is truly wonderful. As we move forward with him,

we can’t help but be swept up by a certain sensitivity. And though we know how the story ends, one

can’t help but want to join him to help change its course. The chaos of the time was reflected

in the mind of the young Emperor, Charles. He inherited a crushing

responsibility from Franz Joseph in 1916. It’s clear that, although he lacked

experience, he did everything in his power to save the Empire and its diverse

populations from the horrors of the war. There’s a clear sense that he would

ultimately be overwhelmed by this. In relation to that title, I am

thinking specifically of the cover in the Tallandier collection

—it features a photograph that is immediately arresting. It shows the Empress Zita, his wife,

at Franz Joseph's funeral, dressed entirely in black, in full mourning. She is the only figure

who truly stands out; her husband, Charles, is in

traditional military uniform, but that black silhouette at the

heart of the image is arresting. It lends the entire composition—echoing the title—a

twilight quality, suddenly plunging us into the darkest side of

geopolitical collapse. And in that same vein,

one is inevitably reminded of Brzezinski’s The Grand Chessboard.

The fourth chapter of this book bears a striking title:

The Black Hole. That is exactly the

impression we seem to be confronted with here, all of a sudden,

that is to say, a sort of dizzying pull towards nothingness. This provides the

necessary context for François Fejtö’s

Requiem pour un empire défunt (Requiem for a Defunct Empire).

The title is unexpectedly nostalgic; yet, in light of the subsequent

revolutions in Hungary in 1919,

the Yugoslavian civil wars, and

all the civil uprisings, the connection to

Robert Gerwarth’s The Vanquished becomes clear. As indicated by

the on-screen subtitle, we’ve now reached the intersection of brutality

and chaos amidst the disintegration of these imperial structures, specifically the

collapse of the Austrian Empire. We’re

thus left with the impression that all this fuels a sense of

nostalgia—one that, paradoxically, only deepens as we move further away

from the events themselves. This may be

the very atmosphere haunting the monuments along the streets of Vienna.

It’s a mood that even permeates the postcards sold to tourists—depicting the likenesses of

Franz Joseph and Elisabeth of Austria, the beloved ‘Sissi’—which

inevitably brings to mind Ernst Marischka’s film trilogy of the mid-fifties. The Technicolor of the era also imbues the

narrative with a nostalgic charm, pastel tones and overt sentimentality. You might even call the atmosphere

somewhat naïve or slightly saccharine. Incidentally, a closer

examination of Elisabeth’s life, as facilitated Brigitte Hamann’s definitive

biography, reveals a reality that is fundamentally

at odds with her popular image. But there is almost a sense here of

a need to compensate for a past that is no more and a future about which we might

perhaps reflect in the final question of our session. Yes, our approach

here was retrospective. We began by looking at the current

situation and Austria’s unique position within it. We traced Austria’s history to

understand its unique position within Europe. Now, what can we expect and what can we

say about Austria’s future? In fact, Austria is more than

just a unique path; it is a singular one. Because modern-day Austria

clearly seems to be sidelined

in the geopolitical arena. Yet, ironically,

it was once one of the major players, one of the greatest powers—indeed,

perhaps the greatest power on the European continent—for centuries. What strikes us here

is that, in light of this past, one feels the future

can only be one thing for Austria: it is the contemplation of

a past that is no more, and a future that can never be. The path Austria is currently taking

is thus more than a mere trajectory. In a way, it is perhaps a previously

resonant voice that has now become inaudible —a voice that’s simply

slipping away from us. This is a deeply important point that

Europeans in particular should be very careful not to forget. Contemplating a past that is no

more and a future that cannot be. A voice that is utterly ghostly in Europe. That is what we have seen

today with Austria. Thank you, Fabrice.

Thank you. That brings us to the end of this session of

Rendez-Vous de la Géopolitique. Thank you all

for following us.