While political assassinations have often changed history, none had such far-reaching effects as the murder of Austria鈥檚 Archduke Franz Ferdinand, 100 years ago today. His killing triggered the First World War, and set in motion a string of repercussions whose end we still cannot see.
The Second World War, the subsequent occupation of central Europe by the Soviet Union and the resulting Cold War, all found their beginnings that June morning. Not just causality, but human destiny, are visible in this sequence of events. We are a species that does not easily learn from its errors.
Looking back, it鈥檚 almost unthinkable that such calamities hung on the actions of a single, feckless young man. Or that the assassination owed more to chance than planning.
Gavrilo Princip, a 19-year-old Bosnian-Serb agitator, had come to Sarajevo with a wild scheme to kill the archduke as he drove through the city. He and his confederates failed in their first attempt.
Less than an hour later, miscommunication and a change in route put Franz Ferdinand鈥檚 car on the wrong street. The driver stopped to reverse. Standing on the sidewalk just 1.5 metres away was Princip. He fired twice, killing both the archduke and his wife Sophie.
The conflagration that followed has been blamed on interlocking treaties that bound the powers of Europe. As one domino fell, it took with it another.
Austria declared war on Serbia. Russia came to the aid of its Slavic ally. Germany sided with Austria, and fearing to leave its western border vulnerable, tried first to disarm France. But German strategy called for a flanking move through Belgium, and Britain had a treaty with that country.
However, there is a more ominous explanation for what happened, which should worry us today. The issue wasn鈥檛 so much those complex alliances. It was what counted as a breach, and still more, what action should be taken if one occurred.
Notions like national honour loomed large. The personal egos of leaders such as Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany and Czar Nicholas of Russia came into play.
Feelings of wounded righteousness overcame popular resistance to war. Troops in every country marched off to the sound of cheering crowds.
And in a minor way, religion had a role. Bishops, rabbis and imams across the field of conflict assured the faithful that God was on their side.
Lost in this commotion was any sense of proportion or self-preservation. The deaths of Ferdinand and Sophie were a personal tragedy for the emperor of Austria, Franz Joseph. But did that entitle him to declare war?
Yes, Serbia was a client state of Russia, but was that reason for a fight to the death? And what were the Germans thinking when they tramped across Belgium, knowing Britain would be dragged in?
The answer is that none of these questions carried weight. Other forces ruled 鈥� exaggerated honour, unrestrained ego, overweening righteousness.
But those weren鈥檛 simply peculiarities of the era. They remain with us.
What were Vladimir Putin鈥檚 reasons for invading Ukraine? Why did president George W. Bush attack Iraq?
Why is China stirring trouble with its neighbours? And what demented logic explains the Middle East?
It鈥檚 true that so far, we鈥檝e avoided a third world war. But is that because at last we understand our weaknesses, or is it because our weapons are more intimidating?
If it鈥檚 the latter, the threat of Armageddon remains. Sooner or later, someone will retrace the fatal steps of 1914.
That is the real lesson of the war to end all wars. There will only be a true end of conflict when we come to grips with human frailty, and find a way to tame it.
