In my previous post on weaponizing aid, I suggested that Cardinal Fleury's path to peace reflected not only a sincere and consistent pacifism, but also a wily exploitation of European geopolitical mores.(1) Again recalling the events of February and March of this year, President Trump does seem to have a working knowledge of what can be accomplished not only with the giving of aid — and quite probably with the front-line deployment of U.S. forces in a given theatre — but also by withholding it to achieve his ends.
And yet, the temptation to strike Iran as only U.S. forces can must be overwhelming — and not just any strike, either, but using a novel weapon to hit the highest profile target of a regime that has chanted "death to America" pretty consistently over nearly the past half-century. I think it should be fairly obvious on all sides that the U.S. possesses the capability and the technical know-how to pull this off, and, as Israel has already done, to mitigate much of the worst blowback that is likely to emerge — at least from Iran itself. I this sense, it's rather more of the same from the U.S., with its reputation pretty much still intact for waging anything like conventional war.
Enter France under Cardinal Fleury in 1741.
Wait. What?!
Yes, bear with the historical comparison. It's closer to the present than we might think, and not just because it falls at the end of Fleury's tenure in office.
Okay, so what happened?
In an episode fairly familiar to historians of 18th century Europe, the newly-crowned King Frederick II of Prussia cooked up and exploited some legal fictions to seize the province of Silesia from the even more newly-Crowned Archduchess of Austria, the Empress Queen Maria Theresa. On the Prussian side, Dennis Showalter's Wars of Frederick the Great (Longman, 1996) gives a pretty good narrative; while Franze Szabo's Seven Years War in Europe (Longman, 2007) brilliantly captures the visceral feel of betrayal felt in Vienna, not only at a remove of sixteen years — at the start of the Seven Years' War in 1756 —but also at a remove of a quarter-millennium!
But what concerns us here is the French side, loosely allied with Prussia, not exactly friendly to Austria, and weighing whether to stake its hard-won reputation for honest brokering against the golden opportunity to rewrite European geopolitics on the battlefield, where Turks and now Prussians had done a lot of heavy lifting over the previous five years.
It's been about five or six days for Israel against Iran at this point, but the analogy holds shockingly well when we know the next move…
In the event, a group of hawks led by the charismatic Duc de Belle-Isle prevailed on Louis XV to get involved in what became known as the War of the Austrian Succession, to seek regime change in the Holy Roman Empire, and to weaken, perhaps fatally, the geopolitical standing of France's traditional Austrian rivals. The first campaign in 1741 broadly succeeded, but the pendulum swung the other direction by 1742, and French forces departed from Germany altogether after a disastrous campaign in 1744. Though she never recovered Silesia, Maria Theresa triumphed in other theatres of the war, and France, in particular, emerged as a significant loser by the Treay of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748 — all the more so for opportunities missed or blown by rolling the dice on military solutions. For these, see the well-written histories of the War of the Austrian Succession by Reed Browning (St. Martin's, 1995) and M.S. Anderson (Longman, 1995).
So what about the road not taken? Fleury was none too fond of the young Prussian upstart, perhaps not entirely different in opinion from many Americans today about Israel's military adventures over the past couple of years. Had French policy been left in Fleury's hands, there remains little question of his own temptation to intervene — Austria did look quite weak, if not already beaten. But Fleury had been here before, and not much earlier. True, French intervention in the Balkans in 1738 would have been a stretch, at best, and a fair bit of Europe at the time would have looked askance at military intervention in favor of the Muslim Ottoman Empire against fellow Christian Austrians and Russians. Short of intervention, though, and well documented in Karl Roider's Reluctant Ally (LSU, 1972), Fleury did interpose his diplomats, and settled an advantageous peace for the Turks in the 1739 Treaty of Belgrade.
All of this to say, the temptation for President Trump must be overwhelming for going after Iran in its moment of weakness; yet the temptation could be, and should be equally great to stand aloof. If ever there were a moment when standing aloof and making a deal could reinvigorate American diplomatic efforts in other theatres, this may well be it. Yes, it is a reach to go back into the 18th century looking for historical parallels and Cardinal directions, but comparisons with Belgrade, and with what may well have been the road too eagerly taken to war in 1741, do seem to bear some reflection.