We live in an age marked not only by some notably autocratic political leaders but also by the increasing threat of renewed great-power warfare. It is therefore instructive to look back to the 17^th and 18^th centuries: an age when war between Europe’s great powers was common, often waged simply for the greater glory of rulers. We should certainly not romanticise the 18^th century as a model to emulate. It saw conflicts that brought great destruction and suffering. Moreover, when combined with mass mobilisation and industrialised weaponry, such great-power conflicts ultimately produced the catastrophe of the First World War. Nevertheless, the 18^th century at least helps us to understand why political leaders today might try to annex additional territories. It is also a reminder that even democratic electorates may still be attracted by the idea of winning glory and prestige through war.

European rulers in the later 17^th and the 18^th centuries claimed above all that they kept war under state control. Soldiers started to wear uniforms, and were seen as directly serving monarchs. Propaganda routinely claimed that states restrained their soldiers from harming civilians, although the reality was often very far from this. Wars were also fought for relatively clearly defined political goals. France, for instance, waged the 1733-35 War of the Polish Succession to acquire the province of Lorraine (which was eventually ceded to the French king’s father-in-law). Once this goal had been achieved, the French statesman Cardinal Fleury ended the war. In 1740, King Frederick II of Prussia (who had watched Fleury’s example) similarly went to war to acquire the province of Silesia, now in southern Poland. Frederick would certainly have liked to have gone further, but even his greatest ambitions did not extend beyond annexing a couple of provinces.

Seeing such examples, both historians and present-day military analysts have wondered whether 18^th-century conflicts offer ways to limit the violence of war. In reality, many wars of the later 17^th and the 18^th century were extremely destructive, and their limited goals could actually make it harder to justify the suffering involved. In the Nine Years War of 1688-97, King Louis XIV mobilised armed forces half a million strong. After fierce fighting, however, diplomatic considerations ultimately led him to return most of the gains his troops made. In the 1701-14 War of the Spanish Succession, France suffered greatly in order to place a French prince on the throne of Spain. This was a big win for the Bourbon dynasty, but less so for France itself. The Seven Years War of 1756-63 caused great destruction in northern Germany but ultimately left Prussia and Austria with exactly the same territories they had had to start with. This was a victory for Prussia, which thereby showed it was a match for the other great powers. It was, however, certainly not a case where limited political objectives protected civilians.

These wars were criticised even at the time. The Adventures of Telemachus, first published in 1699 by François de Salignac de la Mothe-Fénelon, were a merciless commentary on the futility of Louis XIV’s wars, emphasising that it would be much better for states to live in peace with each other. The great Enlightenment philosophe Voltaire took a somewhat ambiguous attitude to war, but his 1759 novel Candide bitterly satirised princes fighting destructive conflicts for trivial purposes.

Eighteenth-century warfare was ultimately limited primarily by the capacities of the states that waged it, and by the military technologies of the time. Rulers like Louis XIV and Frederick II were not in a position to mobilise their entire populations for war. The French revolutionary government of the 1790s, which replaced the old regime, did indeed declare the mobilisation of the entire population, and produced what some have called ‘the first total war’. However, the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars of 1792-1815 did not witness the appallingly destructive weapons that would be produced by the industrial revolution.

The First World War was fought essentially by the same great powers which had emerged during the 18^th century. Indeed, Austria-Hungary, Germany and Russia were all headed by the same Habsburg, Hohenzollern and Romanov dynasties that had vied for power in the previous centuries. The idea of a war between Europe’s great powers fought over the question of who controlled Alsace and Lorraine, or over competing interests in the Balkans, would have seemed a commonplace in the 18^th century. In an era of mass conscript armies and industrialised weaponry, however, great-power conflict produced catastrophe.

Democratic societies have rightly become wary of war. The use of force may still be appropriate in some cases, and states need to be able to defend themselves against aggression. The appalling destruction of the First and Second World Wars, however, stands as a lesson that peaceful coexistence often serves the interests of states better, and makes their people happier.

Nevertheless, the example of the later 17th and the 18th centuries should at least remind us that there was once an age when it was normal simply to annex territories, either to serve the interests of states or for the greater glory of their rulers. In 1774-5, for instance, the Austrian empire simply decided that it wanted to take over the province of Bukovina, and forced the Ottoman empire to accept this. In 1772, 1793 and 1795, Austria, Prussia and Russia successively annexed the territory of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, which was ultimately swallowed up by its more powerful neighbours.

Such actions would certainly not be acceptable now. By studying them, however, we may get a better insight into the mindset of those who would like to repeat them in the present day. Rulers in the later 17^th and the 18^th centuries argued for the importance of strong state authority. This was expressed among other things through powerful armed forces and the ability to compete against other states. At the time, this made sense: Voltaire, for example, warned against the dangers of anarchy and civil war. Even the new experimental method in science was attractive because it offered intellectual order comparable to the political order that was widely sought at the time. Such ideas of strong state authority to prevent anarchy still have substantial attraction in some places today.

The most notable parallel between our own time and the 17^th and 18^th centuries is the continuing allure of military glory. The age of the baroque, typified by Louis XIV, was characterised by magnificent display, with the appearance of things often more important than the reality. Winning glory and renown through war was part of this. Politicians today continue to be hugely aware of the importance of image, and from this perspective the 17^th and 18^th centuries don’t seem so far away. When Louis XIV had himself depicted personally visiting the trenches during a siege, this was little different from George W. Bush landing on an aircraft carrier in 2003, or Margaret Thatcher riding in a tank. Military victory continues to be valuable for political popularity.

Modern democratic electorates expect more from their states than 18^th-century populations did. Today, economic wellbeing is far more important for most voters than prestige won abroad. George H. W. Bush for instance achieved significant foreign policy successes, including the military victory of Operation Desert Storm in 1991. Yet economic problems led him to be voted from office in 1992. States in our own time provide healthcare and education for their populations in a way that was simply not expected in the 18^th century, and voters today often prioritise such things. Nevertheless, in an age of discontent in many Western countries, politicians have been willing to seek popularity through picking fights with their neighbours.

At a time of increasing autocratic tendencies in many countries, and heightened great-power competition, the 17^th and 18^th centuries have important resonances for us. The wars of this period could be very destructive, and there is no need to look back at them nostalgically. It is, thankfully, no longer acceptable to annex neighbouring territories in the way that was common in the 18^th century. Moreover, states have fortunately now become wary of great-power conflict. However, such things were once common, as political leaders promised order through powerful states. Moreover, even democratic electorates have shown a tendency to be entranced by military success in a manner not all that different from the 18^th century. As I write these words, it is not inconceivable that we might see a modern democratic leader seek to enlarge their state by acquiring territories on their borders.