Military-Industrial Relations in Imperial Germany, 1870-1914

Military–Industrial Relations
in Imperial Germany,
1870–1914
Michael Epkenhans
This article examines both the structure of the German armament industry
and military–industrial relations in imperial Germany. As in other European
countries, before 1914 the structure of the armament industry was mixed:
state arsenals and naval dockyards on the one hand and private enterprises
on the other hand supplied the armed forces with ri es, guns, and naval
vessels. The relationship between the military and private enterprises, of
which the Essen rm of Krupp was the most important one, was never really
smooth. Whereas armaments were of little importance from a macro-
economic point of view, armament rms such as Krupp did, however, bene t
from both the production and, especially, the export of arms, which was
supported by the government in order to keep up a modern arms industry
and to increase its in uence in foreign countries.
I. Military–industrial relationships in Germany in

historical perspective
W hile many scholars have dealt extensively with the political history
of both the army and the navy in imperial Germany,1 military–
industrial relations in Germany between 1870 and the nal collapse
of the empire in 1918 are still an open eld for historical research.2
1
For the army cf. B.F. Schulte, Die deutsche Armee 1900–1914: Zwischen Beharren und
Verändern (Düsseldorf, 1977); S. Förster, Der doppelte Militarismus: Die deutsche
Heeresrüstungspolitik zwischen Status quo-Sicherung und Aggression 1890–1913 (Stuttgart,
1985); V.R. Berghahn, Der Tirpitz-Plan: Genesis und Verfall einer innenpolitischen
Krisenstrategie unter Wilhelm II (Düsseldorf, 1971); H.H. Herwig, The ‘Luxury’ Fleet: The
Imperial German Navy, 1888–1918 (London, 1980).
2
For a short description of the army’s establishments, cf. A. Genth, ‘Die preußischen
Heereswerkstätten, ihre Entwicklung, allgemeine volkswirtschaftliche Bedeutung und
ihr Übergang in privatwirtschaftliche Betriebe’, PhD thesis (Berlin, 1926), pp. 11–33;
Reichsarchiv, Kriegsrüstung und Kriegswirtschaft, vol. i (Berlin, 1930), pp. 389–94. For
the shipbuilding industry, cf. G. Leckebusch, Die Beziehungen der deutschen
Seeschiffswerften zur Eisenindustrie an der Ruhr in der Zeit von 1850–1930 (Cologne,
1963); M. Epkenhans, Die wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, 1908–1914: Weltmachtstreben,
industrieller Fortschritt, soziale Integration (Munich, 1991); M. Epkenhans, ‘Großindustrie
und Schlacht ottenbau, 1897–1914: Eine Dokumentation’, Militärgeschichtliche
War in History 2003 10 (1) 1–26 10.1191/0968344503wh270oa Ó 2003 Arnold

2 Michael Epkenhans
The loss of documents in the Second World War and the reluctance
of private armament rms to open their archives have equally contrib-
uted to this deplorable state of historical research. Therefore, we do
not know very much about the nature of relations between the army
and its main suppliers, about the army’s own works, about armament
pro ts, cartels, and, nally, about Germany’s most important ‘merchants
of death’ – Krupp and, later on, Rheinmetall. Although our knowledge
of the political implications of armament exports is better,3 we still
know very little about the business aspects of the arms trade. So far,
Krupp is the only rm which has granted access to its archives and
allowed researchers to study its account books in order to give a fairly
accurate description of the volume of its exports, its main customers,
its business strategies, and its pro ts.4 However, reliable gures about
other equally important armament exporters, such as Rheinmetall, the
Mauser AG, the Deutsche Waffen- und Munitionsfabriken, or new
industries, such as the aircraft builders of Junkers and Heinkel, are
not available, unfortunately.
Against this background it is the aim of this article to describe the
structure of the German armament industry and the development of
military–industrial relations in an era of sometimes rapid political,
military, and technological change.
II. The Structure of the German Armament

Industry
Between 1870 and 1914 the structure of the German armament indus-
try was mixed. As in other countries, both the army and the navy pro-
cured arms and ships either from their own arsenals and dockyards or
from private enterprises. The army owned extensive ri e, ordnance,
and powder works, several laboratories, a construction bureau and
three foundries in Prussia, Saxony, and Bavaria. Thus it was able to
manufacture ri es and guns up to a calibre of 21 cm. Trials to produce
steel in its own foundries, instead of buying the semi- nished products
for the casting of gun barrels from Krupp, were nally given up in
Mitteilungen, xliii (1988), pp. 65–140; M. Cattaruzza, Arbeiter und Unternehmer auf den
Werften des Kaiserreichs (Stuttgart, 1988), pp. 22–46; H. Walden, ‘Die Entwicklung der
deutschen Werftindustrie in der Zeit der maritimen Aufrüstung des deutschen
Kaiserreiches, 1898–1914’ (unpublished manuscript, Hamburg, 1981); G. Mai,
Kriegswirtschaft und Arbeiterbewegung in Württemberg, 1914–1918 (Stuttgart, 1983). For a
brief, very general though sometimes dogmatic survey, cf. H.-J. Bontrup and N.
Zdrowomyslaw, Die deutsche Rüstungsindustrie: Vom Kaiserreich zur Bundesrepublik
(Heilbronn, 1988). For an excellent discussion of ‘Arms and the Men’ cf. D.
Stevenson, Armaments and the Coming of War: Europe, 1904–1914 (Oxford, 1996),
pp. 14–63.
3
Cf. G.F.W. Hallgarten, Imperialismus vor 1914: Die soziologischen Grundlagen der
Außenpolitik europäischer Großmächte vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg, 2 vols, 2nd edn (Munich,
1963).
4
For an excellent survey of Krupp’s rise, cf. L. Gall, Krupp: Der Aufstieg eines
Industrieimperiums (Berlin, 2000).
War in History 2003 10 (1)

Military–Industrial Relations in Imperial Germany 3
1906.5 On the one hand these arsenals, which employed 28 723

workers in 1911,6 were a visible sign of the army’s intention to preserve
its far-reaching autonomy in an era of dynamic changes in politics,
economics, society, and, last but not least, technology. On the other
hand the arsenals were supposed to cope with the army’s current
requirements in peacetime, to test the arms offered by private
armourers, to check their prices, and, if necessary, to regulate them
by undercutting. By and large there can be no doubt that these aims
were achieved. The political and military autonomy of the army
remained untouched. Despite the costly progress of war technology
and the competition of private armourers, the arsenals were still
ef cient enough to cover 40% of the army’s requirements on the eve
of war.7
The navy possessed three dockyards in Kiel, Danzig, and
Wilhelmshaven, and a workshop for the manufacture of torpedoes
and torpedo tubes; plans for building a fourth yard were given up for
lack of money. Although the repair, re tting and maintenance of the
eet were their main tasks, the imperial yards also built the hulls and
machinery of battleships, cruisers, and submarines. Attempts to build
torpedo boats had already been given up in the 1880s when the navy
realized that it could not compete with private yards such as Schichau
or Germania.8 In 1898, after the passing of the Navy Law, considerable
efforts were made to raise the ef ciency of the imperial yards in order
to enable them both to cope with the rapid expansion of the navy and
to be competitive with private shipbuilders. Accordingly, the number
of workers employed in the naval dockyards, which had been increased
from 6 500 in 1888 to 15 500 in 1900, amounted to 21 500 in 1912.9
Unfortunately, production costs were generally higher than in private
yards. Therefore, and because Tirpitz regarded the shipbuilding indus-
try as an ‘ally’, the majority of warship contracts were given to private
yards.10 In contrast to the army, the navy depended completely upon
5
Cf. Erzberger’s report, ‘Bewaffnung und Munition für Feld- und Fußartillerie sowie
Marinegeschütze’ (May 1914), p. 46, Bundesarchiv-Militärarchiv Freiburg (henceforth
abbreviated as BA-MA), RM 3/11044. On the basic structure of the German
armament industry, cf. also Stevenson, Armaments, pp. 19–23.
6
Cf. M. Erzberger, Die Rüstungsausgaben des Deutschen Reiches (Stuttgart, 1914), p. 38.
According to N. Zdrowomyslaw, Wirtschaft, Krise und Rüstung: Die Militärausgaben in
ihrer wirtschaftlichen und wirtschaftspolitischen Bedeutung in Deutschland von der
Reichsgründung bis zur Gegenwart (Bremen, 1985), p. 60, 37 926 workers were
employed in these works.
7
Cf. Kriegsrüstung und Kriegswirtschaft, vol. i, p. 394. This gure is probably correct for
that time because the strength of the army was greatly increased within a few years;
for the rest of the time, especially for the late nineteenth century, further research is
necessary.
8
Cf. W. v. Tirpitz, Wie hat sich der Staatsbetrieb beim Aufbau der Flotte bewährt? (Leipzig,
1923).
9
Cf. T. Schwarz, ‘Die deutschen Schiffswerften’, in O. Flamm, ed., Deutscher Schiffbau,
1913 (Berlin, 1913), p. 110. Probably, this gure does not include those working in
other naval workshops. If they are included the total number amounts to 26 844. Cf.
Zdrowomyslaw, Wirtschaft, Krise und Rüstung, p. 60.
10
Cf. Appendix, Table 3. Before 1898 the ratio was 50:50.

4 Michael Epkenhans
Krupp for the manufacture of guns and armour plate. Although the
Imperial Navy Of ce was conscious of this serious structural weakness,
all deliberations about establishing its own armour and ordnance
works were thwarted by lack of experience, the technical dif culties in
producing big naval guns and gun-mountings, and the enormous costs
of an ef cient naval artillery and armour plate plant.11
As a result of the nascent ‘industrialization’ of warfare, an ef cient
private armament industry slowly developed beside the state-run
arsenals in Germany in the second half of the nineteenth century.
Partly on their own initiative, partly in collaboration with the military,
important rms in the steel, machine-building, chemical, and electrical
industries now engaged in the manufacture of arms. The more
important ones among them were the Bochumer Verein, the Dillinger
Hüttenwerke, the Grusonwerk, Krupp, the Mauser AG, the Deutsche
Waffen- und Munitionsfabriken, the Köln-Rottweiler powder factories,
Schwartzkopff and Polte. However, the number of rms specializing
in the manufacture of military hardware was limited and subject to
uctuations. While new ones, like Rheinmetall, entered the business
in the 1890s, others, like the Bochumer Verein, either left it almost
completely or, like the Grusonwerk, had to merge with others. That is
also why the number of armament rms in a stricter sense probably
amounted to about two dozen only. For example, only three rms were
able to manufacture guns, two rms specialized in hand weapons, two
in armour plate, only six shipyards were on the navy suppliers’ list,
and, nally, a small number of rms produced powder and munitions
for both the army and the navy. Furthermore, the importance of the
production of war material in comparison to peace material greatly
varied. For these reasons it is also very dif cult to estimate the size of
the workforce employed in the armament industry. Rough estimates
range from 156 000 to 212 000 workers on the eve of war.12 This
number makes up between 0.2 and 0.3% of the German population
in 1910 or, respectively, between 1.4 and 1.9% of the industrial labour
force in 1907.
The most important among the small number of private armament
rms – which, both for lack of other studies and because of its almost
paradigmatic and somehow even notorious character, will therefore
serve as an example to illustrate the development of this sector in the
late nineteenth century in this survey – was, however, the rm of Krupp
in Essen. With its ordnance, munitions, and armour plate works in
Essen and Magdeburg it not only dominated the domestic market until
11
In 1913 the costs of an armour plate plant were estimated at 35 million marks, those
of an ordnance factory at 100 million marks. Cf. Epkenhans, Wilhelminische
Flottenrüstung, pp. 171–72, p. 188.
12
The Committee of Inquiry into the Armament Industry set up in 1913 estimated that
100 000 workers were employed by private manufacturers; Zdrowomyslaw’s estimate
(Wirtschaft, Krise und Rüstung, p. 61) amounts to 145 000. Together with the
estimated number of 56 000 or – according to other estimates – even 67 000 workers
in the state sector, this makes up a gure ranging from 156 000 to 212 000.

it was challenged by Rheinmetall, but was also one of the world’s lead-
ing arms dealers. The ef ciency of Krupp’s armament workshops was
indeed remarkable: in 1914 it could manufacture 280 light and 4 heavy
guns, 154 000 shells, and 230 000 fuses every month.13 However, in
contrast to many legends, Krupp was never a pure armament concern.
For example, in the 1880s the production of war material uctuated
violently and only in a few years did it make up more than 40% of the
rm’s turnover. Even on the eve of the First World War, when the
arms race between all European nations was in full swing, the naval–
military share of Krupp’s total turnover hardly reached the 40%
mark.14 The number of workers employed in the ordnance workshop
similarly mirrors the mixed structure of the whole concern: for
instance, in 1887, before the establishment of the armour plate plant
and the expansion of the gun and gun-mounting workshops, strictly
speaking only 3 000 workers (16.7%) out of a workforce of 17 884 were
employed in the ordnance factory.15 Before the outbreak of war in
1914, the ratio was only slightly higher: 16 300 (19.7%) out of 82 500
workers were then employed in the war material sections.16
In the shipbuilding industry, 6 out of 23 major shipyards were on
the navy suppliers’ list at the turn of the century. While four of them
were joint-stock companies, the Schichau and Germania shipyards
were in proprietary concerns. Apart from Krupp’s Germania yard,
which specialized in warships, the other shipyards were also successful
builders of merchant vessels. In contrast to the high degree of vertical
integration in the USA or in Britain, the German yards were inde-
pendent. An increasingly serious disadvantage of this independence
was, however, their vulnerability in times of economic crisis. Apart
from the Nordseewerke in Emden, which was taken over by Stinnes in
1912, Krupp’s Germania yard, taken over after long discussions in the
directorate about the expediency of this step, was the only exception
for many years. 17 Facing a severe nancial crisis in 1912, Blohm & Voss
tried to imitate this example. Unfortunately, the negotiations about a
partnership with one of the biggest steel plants in the Ruhr area, the
Gutehoffnungshütte, eventually failed in 1912. During the war, how-
ever, several leading industrial concerns of the Ruhr area, as well as
one of Germany’s leading electrical companies and builders of tur-
bines, AEG, entered the shipbuilding business.18
13
Cf. the table in HA (Main Archive) Krupp, Essen, WA VII f. 1116.
14
For details see Appendix, Table 5.
15
Cf. Krupp AG, Krupp, 1812–1912 (Essen, 1912), p. 248; W. Feldenkirchen, Die
Eisen- und Stahlindustrie des Ruhrgebiets, 1879–1914 (Wiesbaden, 1982), table 104a.
16
For details see the memo by Haux (undated), HA Krupp, WA VII f. 1070.
17
For further details cf. Epkenhans, Wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, p. 218.
18
Cf. Leckebusch, Beziehungen, pp. 99–111.

6 Michael Epkenhans
III. The Relationships Between the Army, the

Navy, and the Armament Industry
As already indicated above, the progress in war technology and the
nascent industrialization of warfare in the second half of the nine-
teenth century lay at the root of military–industrial relations. In an
evolutionary process which was determined by collaboration, tensions,
and contradictions, this relationship slowly took on the shape of some-
thing akin to what is today called a ‘military–industrial complex’.
In contrast to many legends, the rising importance of private
armourers for the equipment of the army and the navy with modern
weapons had no effect on the government’s armament policy. Arma-
ment programmes were – and Tirpitz’s long-term naval programme is
probably the best example of this independence from private in u-
ence and insinuations – planned and performed according to the
government’s political and military intentions, the general political
situation, and real or unreal threat perceptions.19 This independence
is also visible in the of cial attempts to restrict the in uence of the
Reichstag as well as of political, industrial, and nationalist pressure
groups.
The procurement of arms itself was a highly bureaucratized process
which could hardly be in uenced by representatives of private interests
whether they were retired of cers or even highly in uential industrial-
ists in the entourage of the emperor, such as Friedrich Alfred Krupp.
As far as possible, the military tried to shut off even the civil govern-
ment from this process. Before 1914 naval and army contracts were
awarded according to the same principles. In general, all private rms
whose products had been tested and which were on the suppliers’ list
could tender for contracts. Although normally the lowest bidder
received the order, it was also possible that it might be placed with
another rm because of the job situation in that area, for technical
reasons or in order to split an impending cartel. In the 1870s even
contractors in England and Austria received army orders for new ri es
because they could deliver them faster and more cheaply.20 Tirpitz,
who quickly gained the reputation of being a shrewd businessman,
repeatedly surprised the shipyards with his methods of ordering
naval vessels.21
Although about 1000 rms supplied the army with all kinds of goods,
munitions, and arms, Krupp was de nitely the most important private
armament contractor for the army as well as for the navy, for two
reasons. First, with its experience as a modern steel plant, its industrial
capacities, its skilled workforce, and the attempts to improve its
products by continuous research, the concern was an almost ideal
19
Cf. the studies mentioned above in fn. 1.
20
Cf. Genth, ‘Preußischen Heereswerkstätten’, p. 25.
21
For details see Epkenhans, Wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, pp. 219–33.

‘partner’ from a purely military and technical point of view. Secondly,

and this aspect should not be underestimated, the owners of the rm
were indeed convinced that they worked in the interest of the state.
Therefore, they were much more responsive to military requests than
companies which had to justify their business policy to a great number
of shareholders. In the eyes of the military, the dark side of this co-
operative attitude was, however, that the owners regarded patriotism
and pro ts as compatible.22 Subsequently, con icts, misunderstand-
ings, and mistrust frequently hampered the smooth working of this
relationship.
Until the turn of the century and despite repeated con icts about
Krupp’s artillery and armour plate prices, neither the army nor the
navy seriously tried to nd another contractor to replace or at least to
compete with its main supplier.23 However, even if they had done so,
it is unlikely that they would have found one. Both the army’s practice
of covering its current requirements from its own works and the uc-
tuations of the market made the armament business seem a risky and
hardly pro table one. For example, in the decade between 1878 and
1888, the value of Krupp’s contracts with the army averaged only 0.5
million marks annually. In comparison with the value of war material
exports, which averaged 13 million marks, these contracts were almost
insigni cant.24 Whereas Krupp was a contractor both the army and the
navy could rely on, the navy sometimes faced great problems in its
relations with other suppliers: in the 1880s when only a few ships were
built, a lot of steel concerns in the Ruhr area simply refused to produce
shipbuilding material for warships because the orders were too small
to balance the cost of production.25 This attitude, which contrasted
sharply with Krupp’s reliability and willingness to collaborate with the
military authorities, was one of the reasons why the army was very reluc-
tant to accept Rheinmetall as a new contractor for artillery in the
1890s. Only after Rheinmetall’s success abroad had proved the rm’s
innovative skills did the Prussian war ministry accept the latter as a new
22
For a detailed description of this aspect of the relationship between Krupp and the
military, cf. M. Epkenhans, ‘Zwischen Patriotismus und Geschäftsinteresse: F.A.
Krupp und die Anfänge des deutschen Schlacht ottenbaus, 1897–1902’, Geschichte
und Gesellschaft, xix (1989), pp. 196–226.
23
In 1890, for example, the Prussian ministry of war, which thought of reintroducing
bronze guns, was asked by Chancellor von Caprivi whether the army did not fear
that Krupp might give up the manufacture of arms altogether, thus seriously
hampering the introduction of cast-steel guns in the future if necessary. While the
army maintained that it did not fear this prospect, the Imperial Navy Of ce
answered that it ‘had the most active interest in the existence of Krupp’s
establishment which had proved the only effective artillery rm in Germany’.
Excerpts from an undated memo (1890), BA-MA, Tirpitz papers, N 253/354.
24
For details see Krupp’s account book, HA Krupp, WA I 1423.
25
Cf. Leckebusch, Beziehungen, p. 43.

8 Michael Epkenhans
supplier. Now the orders for new howitzers were divided almost equally
between Krupp and Rheinmetall.26
The navy’s attitude towards Krupp was similar. In spite of many com-
plaints about Krupp’s armour and artillery prices, Tirpitz refused to
look for new competitors when he took of ce in 1897. The main
reason for this remarkable fact was that Tirpitz wanted to achieve the
aims of his programme as quickly as possible. Any attempt to encour-
age another industrial concern or to assist it even nancially was con-
sidered likely to delay the completion of his ships.27 Apart from that,
the navy was convinced that no new supplier would be able to deliver
products of Krupp’s quality within a very short period of time. That is
why, for example, Schichau’s offer to build naval guns if the navy
promised technical and nancial aid was rejected in 1899.28
Since Krupp’s armour plate and artillery deliveries made up almost
60% of a ship’s costs, after serious clashes in 1899–1900 Krupp and the
navy reached a somewhat unique agreement, which smoothed their
relationship in 1901. Tirpitz offered a medium-term contract for
armour plate in return for lower prices. This offer, which guaranteed
orders and pro ts, was accepted by Krupp. After Tirpitz, who closely
watched the international armament market, had received information
about even lower prices in the USA, the navy’s contracts with Krupp
were renewed prematurely in 1905 and 1907. Nevertheless, at least in
theory, the navy was never willing to grant Krupp a monopoly, and
despite good personal relations between Wilhelm II and the owners
of Krupp, business relations always remained dif cult. Because of rising
budget constraints and repeated criticisms of Krupp’s prices in the
Reichstag, Tirpitz kept on looking for competitors for naval artillery
and armour plate.29 Unfortunately neither Rheinmetall nor Thyssen,
which were secretly approached in 1904, 1907, and 1909–10, were able
to comply with his requests. Whereas Rheinmetall eventually tested an
8.8 cm naval gun in 1910, Thyssen gave up its plans to produce armour
plate in 1911. When the rst trials proved a failure, the rm realized
that it could not overcome the technical problems involved with this
task. Rheinmetall’s ability to produce light naval guns was useful, but
it did not alter the navy’s dependence upon Krupp, because light
artillery made up only 3% of the costs of a ship’s armament.30
In his relations with the shipyards Tirpitz was more successful. By
exploiting the traditional rivalries among them and by enlarging the
number of contractors for battleships in 1904 and 1908, he whittled
26
Between 1909 and 1912 Krupp received orders worth 4.5 million marks; with
contracts worth 5 million marks Rheinmetall’s share was slightly larger. For details
see Erzberger’s report ‘Bewaffnung und Munition für Feld- und Fußartillerie sowie
Marinegeschütze’, p. 32, BA-MA, RM 3/11044.
27
28
See the memo of the weapons department, 4.6.1899, BA-MA, RM 3/10164.
29
30
For details see the report for the budget committee meetings in spring 1915, BA-MA,
RM 3/11634.

down prices skilfully. Thus he also prevented the formation of a ship-

yards’ cartel until 1914, when four out of the six shipyards working for
the navy reached an agreement about the division of contracts between
them in order to improve their nancial situation.31
Although the control exercised by the state-run factories seemed to
be more or less suf cient to check prices, a completely new situation
arose in 1913, when Krupp was publicly accused of bribing army
of cials in order to receive information about its main rival, Rheinme-
tall, which had become ‘a near obsession’ 32 in pre-war years. With the
intention of calming the waves, a committee was set up to inquire into
military–industrial relationships. Both military authorities and private
armourers were afraid that this might be the beginning of more or
less direct parliamentary control of military contracts.33 In their eyes
it was also most disagreeable that the Reichstag had simultaneously
passed a resolution calling on the authorities to procure as many arms
as possible from the state-run factories. While the armament rms
feared that they might lose the domestic market, neither the army nor
the navy had any inclination to extend their own works. Tight budget
constraints and the prospect of losing the industrial capacities and the
technological advantages offered by private enterprises were the main
reasons for this reluctance. Although the outbreak of war stopped all
hearings, this committee was nevertheless at least a faint sign of more
public interest in military–industrial relationships.
Apart from military–industrial relations in a more narrow sense, the
Krupp scandal, however, also publicly highlighted the question of war-
mongering by the so called ‘merchants of death’. As early as the turn
of the century, at the beginning of Weltpolitik, members of the Social
Democratic Party had warned of the inherent dangers of the arma-
ment manufacturers’ greed.34 As they repeatedly argued in the Reichs-
tag when discussing Krupp’s armour monopoly, the armourers’ inter-
est in both continuous and ever-increasing public expenditure on
modern weaponry would almost inevitably lead to war.35 In November
1911, after the second Moroccan crisis had nally been solved peace-
fully but only with great dif culty, the party’s chairman, August Bebel,
again warned that war would soon be the result of the accelerating
arms race in Europe. Against this background Liebknecht’s revelations
about Krupp’s business policy, as well as close links between the
armaments industries in Britain, Russia, France, Belgium, and
Germany, thus convincingly seemed to prove that this deathly trade
had no fatherland, but, instead, simply wanted to increase its pro ts.
31
32
Stevenson, Armaments, p. 25.
33
Cf. Epkenhans, Wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, pp. 366–90.
34
Cf. op. cit., pp. 106–107.
35
For a detailed discussion cf. op. cit., pp. 153–201; B. Wolbring, Krupp und die
Öffentlichkeit im 19. Jahrhundert (Munich, 2000), pp. 283–306; on an international
scale Stevenson, Armaments, pp. 331–34.

10 Michael Epkenhans
In the event, however, there can be no doubt that the armament

industry neither could nor did have any in uence on the planning and
the implementation of armament programmes. Leading politicians as
well as naval and army of cials, rstly, had a deep distrust of industrial
behaviour. While the former followed a long-lasting tradition of for-
mulating the basic outlines of governmental policies, the latter were
still reluctant to accept a dependent relationship with a supplier not
directly under their control, because of the corresponding risk of sacri-
cing in uence over weapons design as well as prices.36 Although it
became increasingly dif cult to protect the traditional ‘arcana imperii’
against the ‘masses’ which tried to extend their in uence, the former,
by and large, still remained in the hands of the old élites. Similarly,
in spite of the accelerating pace of technological change and its
repercussions on military procurement, the autonomy of the military
authorities remained untouched. Accordingly, Germany’s most far-
reaching decisions in this respect – the embarkation on Weltpolitik in
1897 based on the build-up of a big navy as well as the return to a
more traditional Kontinentalpolitik backed by a massive increase of the
army in 1912–13 – were taken independently by the nation’s leading
politicians and, not to forget, approved by an overwhelming majority
in the Reichstag. It is true, in both cases, pressure groups such as the
Deutsche Flottenverein and the Deutsche Wehrverein played an
important role in making this change of policy popular, though only
after the principal decisions to allocate resources for military develop-
ment in order to achieve certain speci c political aims had been taken.
Without the emperor’s interest in the navy or Bethmann Hollweg’s
decision to back the Prussian minister of war in 1911 in order to check
Tirpitz’s demand for a new naval increase, German policy very likely
would have followed a different course.37 Subsequently, the wealth and
the prestige neither of Krupp nor of any other armament manufac-
turer were not even enough to overcome this state of mind directly
or indirectly.38
IV. Armaments and Economic Development,

1871–1914
From a macroeconomic point of view, the rapid expansion of the
German economy after 1871 makes it dif cult to assess the impact of
armament contracts on economic development precisely. However, a
look at the development of government and military expenditure on
the one hand and a comparison between military expenditure and the
36
In this respect I fully agree with D. Showalter, ‘Prussia, Technology and War:
Artillery from 1815 to 1914’, in R. Haycock and K. Neilson, eds., Men, Machines &
War (Waterloo, 1988), p. 144.
37
Cf. now H. Strachan, The First World War, vol. i: To Arms (Oxford, 2001), pp. 9–35.
38
Cf. Showalter, ‘Prussia, Technology and War’, p. 144.

net social product shows that, generally speaking, the relationship

between armament and economic development in imperial Germany
was very limited. Military expenditure rose from 348.6 to 1771.2 million
marks between 1874 and 1913. Despite this rise in total gures, the
percentage of government expenditure allocated to the military
decreased in the same period from 27 to 22%. With regard to the net
social product, the result of this increase in military expenditure was
a rise from 2.4 to 3.6%.39
Though the data mentioned above leave no doubt that the impact
of armaments on economic development was very limited from a mac-
roeconomic point of view, it is nevertheless necessary to investigate the
microeconomic effects of military orders. Unfortunately, lack of space
permits only a few examples to illustrate this aspect. Generally speak-
ing, the impact of armaments on armament rms or related branches
should not be overestimated. For example, though domestic and –
before the turn of the century – especially foreign orders were
important, even Krupp did not fully depend upon armament contracts,
as already mentioned above. 40 In the shipbuilding industry the situ-
ation was similar. It is true that this industry, which was in an almost
embryonic state in 1870, bene ted from the admiralty’s regulation of
1873 that all warships had to be built in Germany and of German
material. However, out of 63 bigger shipyards, only six were on the
navy suppliers’ list in 1914. Furthermore, the extent to which the latter
depended upon the navy differed. Whereas Krupp’s Germania yard
was specially designed to build warships, the others were increasingly
successful builders of merchant vessels. At the beginning of the Tirpitz
era and, later on, in times of crisis, warship contracts were, of course,
regarded as lucrative or as a means of overcoming a serious economic
crisis, as in 1907–09. Nevertheless, compared with the UK, where
almost 30% of steel production went into shipbuilding, the corres-
ponding gure for Germany remained incredibly low, at just 4% in
1910.41
In this context the question of pro ts, which have been a matter of
speculation since the turn of the century, should also be dealt with.
For lack of detailed information many contemporaries and historians
assumed that armaments allowed excessive net pro ts of up to 100%.
In contrast to this speculation, the available data in the Krupp and –
to some extent – in the Blohm & Voss archives suggest that, rst, pro ts
depended very much upon products and market conditions, and, sec-
39
For detailed data cf. Zdrowomyslaw, Wirtschaft, Krise und Rüstung, tables 4 and 5. This
gure does not include military pensions or, for instance, the costs of military
infrastructure hidden in other budgets. For details cf. Appendix, Table 6. Cf. also
Stevenson, Armaments, p. 6, table 8, whose gures, however, vary to some extent. For
a discussion of the dif culties in estimating the real defence burden see ibid., p. 3,
fn. 7.
40
For details cf. Appendix, Table 5.
41
Cf. S. Pollard and P. Robertson, The British Shipbuilding Industry, 1870–1914
(Cambridge, MA, 1979), pp. 46–7.

ondly, that they were often high, but not as excessive as many legends
maintain. Before 1914, for example, Krupp’s gross pro ts on armour
plate averaged almost 60%, while pro ts on artillery amounted to only
30%.42 In contrast to eld guns, naval guns seem to have been a risky
and dif cult business, especially in the last decade before the First
World War, when gun calibres were increased within relatively short
intervals. Even a severe critic of Krupp’s artillery monopoly, one of the
leaders of the politically important Centre Party, Matthias Erzberger,
admitted in 1914 that prices for naval artillery were reasonable.43 In
this respect the costs of investment, which were often very high, should
also be mentioned. For instance, in order to meet the requirements
of the enlarged naval programme in 1905 and 1908, Krupp had to
invest more than 28 million marks into new workshops.44 Pro ts on
warships depended upon market uctuations and upon the type of
warship. Between 1898 and 1906 pro ts on battleships ranged from 4
to 18%. Later on, because of the severe crisis of the shipbuilding indus-
try and stiff competition among warship contractors, most shipyards
gladly accepted naval contracts, even if they made no pro t at all. For
instance, Krupp’s Germania yard lost 700 000 marks on the battleship
Prinz Luitpold, and Blohm & Voss as much as 2.2 million marks on the
battlecruisers Seydlitz and Derff linger.45 Only torpedo boats were more
pro table, because three instead of six shipyards competed for this
type of ship. Depending upon the type of torpedo boat, Krupp’s pro ts
ranged from 2 to 17%. Finally, since the imperial yard in Danzig could
successfully compete with Krupp’s Germania yard, pro ts on sub-
marines averaged ‘only’ 30%. Compared with Vickers’ pro t margin
of almost 100%,46 this is a remarkably low gure.
Although this should not be exaggerated, there is some evidence
that the military served as a conduit for the transfer of technology to
the civilian economy. The development of the diesel engine, the steam
turbine, and the telegraph are some examples.47 Compared with mod-
ern standards, the importance of planned research and development
of new armament technologies was only slowly realized by both the
military and the arms industry throughout the whole period. First, mili-
tary thinking still regarded manpower as the most important factor on
land until the experience of the impact of industrialized warfare on
42
43
Cf. Erzberger, ‘Bewaffnung und Munition für Feld- und Fußartillerie sowie
Marinegeschütze’, p. 129.
44
For details see HA Krupp, WA IV 1741–43. Stevenson also came to the conclusion
that ‘in general, Krupp was less pro table than purely civilian steel and metal-
working rms, and its special relationship with the state authorities probably
impeded it from maximizing its rate of return’ (Armaments, p. 23).
45
46
Cf. C. Trebilcock, The Vickers Brothers: Armaments and Enterprise, 1854–1914 (London,
1977), pp. 107–08.
47
Cf. Epkenhans, Wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, pp. 256–65; H.-P. von Peschke,
Elektroindustrie und Staatsverwaltung am Beispiel Siemens, 1847–1914 (Frankfurt/M.,
1981), pp. 150–62.

military success during the First World War nally turned the scale.
Secondly, because of tight budget constraints, the military authorities
were often very reluctant to share the costs of research and develop-
ment. The Maschinenfabrik Augsburg-Nürnberg (MAN) as well as
Krupp’s Germania yard, which had been encouraged by the Imperial
Navy Of ce to start developing powerful diesel engines for battleships
and submarines, faced serious problems with the latter when they
failed to meet its expectations.48
V. Armament Exports: Political and Military

Implications and Business Strategies
From the 1870s Germany was, next to Britain and France, one of the
most important armament-exporting countries.49 On the domestic
scene, these exports were often a matter of controversial debate both
in the Reichstag and in the press. Especially in the last years before
1914, members of the Social Democratic Party, such as Gustav Noske,
continuously criticized these exports. While the German people suf-
fered from new taxes, introduced to nance the great increases of the
army in 1912–13 and the building of new battleships, the government
still tolerated or even supported armament exports to countries
which – like Russia – might be Germany’s enemies in the near future.50
Noske’s moral objections were, of course, shared by neither the
government nor the military authorities, nor even the leading bour-
geois and conservative parties. In their eyes, armament exports were
moreover a formidable means of achieving three important aims. First
of all, in the same way as nancial aid and favourable commercial treat-
ies, these exports were part of a strategy to strengthen Germany’s pos-
ition in countries where political, strategic, or economic interests had
to be defended, or new spheres of in uence could be established.
Political allies, such as Austria or Italy, neighbours, such as Belgium
and the Netherlands, the Balkan states, some of the major Latin Amer-
ican countries,51 China,52 and, nally, a great power such as Russia,53
whose armament industry was still underdeveloped, were probably the
48
For details cf. Epkenhans, Wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, pp. 260–65.
49
For a general survey cf. L. Hilbert, ‘Der zunehmende Waffenexport seit den 1890er
Jahren’, in F. Klein and K.O. von Aretin, eds, Europa um 1900: Texte eines Kolloquiums
(Berlin, 1989), pp. 59–72.
50
Cf. Noske’s speech in the Reichstag, 19 Feb. 1914, Stenographische Berichte über die
Verhandlungen des Deutschen Reichstages (Berlin, 1914), vol. ccxciii, pp. 7492–94.
51
For the arms trade with Latin America cf. J. Schäfer, Deutsche Militärhilfe an
Südamerika: Militär- und Rüstungsinteressen in Argentinien, Bolivien und Chile vor 1914
(Düsseldorf, 1974), passim.
52
Cf. U. Ratenhof, Die Chinapolitik des deutschen Reiches 1871 bis 1945: Wirtschaft-Rüstung-
Militär (Boppard, 1987), pp. 51–252.
53
For Krupp’s relations with Russia cf. Walther Kirchner, ‘Krupp, 1818–1914’, in W.
Kirchner, Die deutsche Industrie und die Industrialisierung Rußlands, 1815–1914 (St
Katharinen, 1986), pp. 204–33.

most important ones. Accordingly, there were almost no restrictions

for exports. Only the navy often refused to allow the export of modern
ships in the last years before the war for fear of losing advantages in
the development of sophisticated technology such as the diesel
engine.54 The remarkably low export gures of the shipbuilding indus-
try were at least partly due to this policy.55
A somehow paradigmatic example of the interrelationship between
political, military, and commercial interests is, of course, Turkey.
Despite his attempts to keep up friendly relations with Russia,
Bismarck, who for fear of engaging the German Empire in oriental
affairs had hesitated for a long time before complying with the sultan’s
wishes, regarded the Ottoman Empire as a valuable ally in a future war
between the two countries in the 1880s. Accordingly he nally agreed
to the dispatch of a military mission to help the sultan reform his army.
Apart from Germany’s steadily increasing economic interests in Tur-
key, which already made it necessary to keep the ‘sick man on the
Bosphorus’ alive, and apart from the in uence of pan-German activists
who openly proclaimed a line reaching from Berlin to Baghdad,56 this
political and military aspect of German–Turkish relations became even
more important as the climate between Berlin and St Petersburg
continued to deteriorate in the last decade before 1914.57
For the German armament industry, as well as for other industries,
the improvement of German–Turkish relations in the 1880s turned
out to be the beginning of a pro table relationship. Between 1888 and
1893 German exports to Turkey rose by 350%.58 Arms formed, of
course, a large proportion of these exports. Having arrived in Con-
stantinople, the German military mission not only pushed ahead the
reform and modernization of the Turkish army; it also successfully
used all its in uence to support the German armament industry.
Between 1885 and 1887 the Turks gave large orders to Krupp, which
had been one of the pioneers in Germany’s trade relations with the
Ottoman Empire (worth 20.74 million marks),59 and to the Schichau
and Germania shipyards (10 torpedo boats worth 2.455 million
marks).60 The Mauser AG in Oberndorf, however, received the greatest
54
55
Cf. Appendix, Table 4.
56
Cf. G. Schöllgen, Imperialismus und Gleichgewicht: Deutschland, England und die
orientalische Frage, 1871–1914 (Munich, 1984), passim.
57
Cf. B.F. Schulte, Vor dem Kriegsausbruch, 1914: Deutschland, die Türkei und der Balkan
(Düsseldorf, 1980), passim.
58
Cf. Schöllgen, Imperialismus und Gleichgewicht, p. 49. On the arms trade in the 1880s
cf. now F. Scherer, Adler und Halbmond: Bismarck und der Orient, 1878–1890
(Paderborn, 2001), pp. 474–84.
59
See Appendix, Table 1.
60
Cf. P. Heinsius, ‘Schiffbautechnischer Fortschritt der Ära Stosch als Voraussetzung
des Schlacht ottenbaus’, in G. Mann and R. Winau, eds, Medizin, Naturwissenschaft,
Technik und das Zweite Kaiserreich (Göttingen, 1977), p. 335.

share, because from it the Turks purchased ri es and munitions worth
45.75 million marks.61
Although the French became serious competitors at the turn of the
century, this pattern remained almost unchanged until the outbreak
of the First World War. Germany’s growing political and commercial
interests, the support of the military mission, and close co-operation
between the government, the Deutsche Bank, and Krupp ensured that
the sultan remained Krupp’s best customer. This ‘partnership’ even
helped to overcome a severe crisis in 1913–14, when Krupp and the
Deutsche Bank clashed over a new loan and thus threatened to drive
Turkey into the hands of the French and to replace Krupp by
Schneider-Creuzot.62 The Deutsche Waffen- und Munitionsfabriken,
which supplied the Turkish army with ri es and munitions, fared
equally well.
While the Turkish army ordered almost all its arms in Germany, the
bulk of Turish naval orders went to Britain. The main reason for this
was that Vickers and Armstrong could deliver dreadnoughts much
faster and on easier nancial terms than their German rivals. In 1910
the only opportunity to oust the British was missed. After long negoti-
ations between the foreign of ce, the shipyards, and the Imperial
Naval Of ce, Tirpitz refused to sell one of the navy’s own ships that
was nearing completion. In his race against the Royal Navy, the admiral
needed all his ships for himself. Apart from this, Tirpitz was afraid that
the British naval mission to Turkey might thus get access to modern
German technology that he wanted to keep secret.63
Secondly, armament exports were considered to be important from
a macroeconomic point of view. In 1914 Matthias Erzberger and lead-
ing industrialists claimed that more than 100 000 workers depended
directly or indirectly on armament exports.64 For lack of reliable g-
ures, it is impossible to verify this claim. Fortunately, Krupp’s account
books, the tables compiled by the Deutsche Waffen- und Munitionsfab-
riken in 1914, and the reports about warship exports in the naval rec-
ords convey at least an impression of the signi cance of armament
exports.
Before the turn of the century Krupp, for instance, exported almost
80% of its war material. Since the proportion of war material to the
rm’s total turnover ranged from 40 to 50%, the signi cance of arma-
ment exports is obvious. Product diversi cation, the expansion into
shipbuilding, and, above all, the passing of the Navy Laws in 1898 and
1900 slowly diminished the rm’s dependence on exports. Although
61
Cf. Kommission zur Prüfung der Rüstungslieferungen, report of the 2nd meeting (8
Jan. 1914), 33, BA–MA, RM 3/11043.
62
Cf. Schöllgen, Imperialismus, pp. 392–99.
63
For details cf. Epkenhans, Wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, pp. 304–10.
64
Cf. Erzberger’s report for the Kommission zur Prüfung der Rüstungslieferungen
(May 1914), p. 42, BA–MA, RM 3/11044. (Probably, these gures include all workers
employed by private armament rms.)

exports still contributed considerably to the rm’s pro ts, they mostly
ranked second behind the navy’s orders for artillery.65 The Deutsche
Waffen- und Munitionsfabriken and the Mauser AG were in a different
position. Since the army continued to manufacture as many rearms
as possible in its own works, they depended heavily on exports, which
made up 80% of their production of ri es and carbines between 1890
and 1912. The shipyards also bene ted from exports. Between 1881
and 1896, 40% of all warships built in private yards had been ordered
by foreign navies. The value of warships built between 1877 and 1895
amounted to 69.6 million marks; that of those built or being built
between 1895 and 1898 was even estimated at 100 million marks.66
After the turn of the century, the shipyards quickly lost ground to the
British. Whereas Vickers and Armstrong had received orders for big
warships estimated, according to naval statistics, at 432.2 million marks
between 1906 and 1914, the German shipyards were lagging far behind
with only one major order, for a Greek battlecruiser worth 39
million marks.67
Although Krupp’s exports were hardly important from a macro-
economic point of view if compared to all German exports, which rose
from 2.923 billion marks in 1880 to 10.097 billion marks in 1913,68
they did play a major role in Germany’s trade relations with some of
Krupp’s customers. Krupp’s exports to Romania in the nancial year
1906–07, for instance, were equivalent to 33.4% of all German exports
to this country in 1906, while the deliveries to Turkey represented 30%
of Germany’s exports in the same year.69
Finally, in the eyes of the military authorities, armament exports
were important for at least two more reasons. First, in peacetime, when
the domestic market was saturated and the capacities of the army’s
own works were suf cient to meet its requirements, exports literally
helped to keep the armament industry alive. Thus the army ensured
that private armourers, which otherwise would have been forced to
close down their plants, were always able to cope with its demands. A
second priceless advantage was the fact that the army could always be
sure to receive the best gun or ri e available, because the domestic
armament industry had to keep up a high technological standard in
65
For details see Appendix, Table 5. Cf. also Z. Jindra, ‘Zur Entwicklung und Stellung
der Kanonenausfuhr der Firma Friedrich Krupp/Essen 1854-1912’, in W.
Feldenkirchen, F. Schönert-Röhlk and G. Schulz, eds, Wirtschaft, Gesellschaft,
Unternehmen (Stuttgart, 1995), vol. ii, pp. 956–76, for a general survey of Krupp’s
export policy.
66
Cf. Heinsius, ‘Schiffbautechnischer Fortschritt’, pp. 332–36, and Nauticus, i (1899),
pp. 268–69.
67
For details see the memo ‘Betrifft, Unterstützung des deutschen Privatschiffbaus
durch Änderung des bisherigen Systems’ (no date, September 1916), BA-MA, RM
3/3689. See also Appendix, Table 4.
68
Cf. G. Hohorst et al., eds, Sozialgeschichtliches Arbeitsbuch, vol. ii, Materialien zur Statistik
des Kaiserreichs, 1870–1914, 2nd edn (Munich, 1978), pp. 85.
69
For details cf. Appendix, Table 1, and the Statistische Jahrbuch für das Deutsche Reich,
xxxi (1910), p. 221.

order to be competitive against British and French rivals in the inter-

national market. Between 1901 and 1903 Krupp, for instance, spent
5 million marks on research and trials to improve its guns.70
There can be no doubt that Krupp, which exported war material
worth 864.3 million marks between 1875 and 1914, was Germany’s
most successful ‘merchant of arms’, although Rheinmetall, the Loewe
AG in Berlin and Karlsruhe, and the Mauser AG in Oberndorf were
also important and successful arms traders. Between 1890 and 1912
Mauser exported ri es and carbines worth 83.6 million marks;71 the
value of Loewe’s exports of ri es and munitions in the same period
even amounted to 240 million marks.72 For Rheinmetall’s exports
reliable gures are unfortunately not available.
Both the high reputation of its guns and lack of serious competition
until the 1890s, when the French and the rm’s only domestic rival,
Rheinmetall, began to threaten its position abroad, were responsible
for Krupp’s success in international markets. Turkey, Bulgaria,
Romania, Italy, the Netherlands, Belgium, China, Japan, and, nally,
the major Latin American states remained regular and important
customers throughout the whole period, whereas Russia, Spain, and
Greece were lost to other competitors.73
Krupp’s business strategy – and that of Germany’s other ‘merchants
of death’ was probably little different – was ‘simple’:74 A world-wide
network of agencies continuously informed the rm about foreign
armament programmes. Experienced representatives, such as Carl
Menshausen, retired army or naval of cers, and high ranking members
of the board of directors were sent abroad when big orders were at
stake or dif cult negotiations expected. Bribes and ‘presents’ were
common and often inevitable, though their success was mostly
limited.75 Like its British rivals, Krupp could thus neither create
demand nor decisively in uence governmental decisions about arma-
ment contracts.76 If possible, Krupp invited foreign delegations to
Essen, where the rm could give them a really splendid reception. At
the same time, and this was the main reason, it could demonstrate its
guns under the most favourable conditions on its own test area instead
of unknown proving-grounds abroad. Attempts to in uence the press
70
Cf. the collection of annual reports, HA Krupp, WA IV 1768.
71
Cf. Kommission zur Prüfung der Rüstungslieferungen, report of the 2nd meeting (8
Jan 1914), p. 39.
72
Op. cit., p. 48.
73
74
For a detailed account of the rm’s business strategy in foreign markets see the
elaborate (87 pages!) and somehow unique account in the memo ‘Erfahrungen im
Kriegsmaterial-Geschäft mit dem Auslande’ (9 Sept 1937), signed by Krupp-director
Beckmann, HA Krupp, WA VII f. 1448.
75
Cf. Kirchner, ‘Krupp, 1818–1914’, pp. 229–31; for Blohm & Voss cf. Walden,
‘Entwicklung’, pp. 77–79.
76
Cf. C. Trebilcock, ‘The British Armaments Industry, 1890–1914: False Legend and
True Utility’, in G. Best and A. Wheatcroft, eds, War, Economy, and the Military Mind
(London, 1976), p. 95.

and modern propaganda in the form of brochures, expositions, and

so on were other means of furthering the rm’s exports. Wherever
possible, Krupp ensured the support of the German government, or
approached even the emperor himself. This support ranged from
receptions by the emperor, the dispatch of military missions (Turkey,
Chile, Argentina) and unof cial advisers (Romania), to of cial visits
by warships and even direct interventions. Unless political reasons
forbade any support of Krupp’s wishes – and this happened very
rarely77 – this co-operation worked smoothly for many years, until
matters were complicated by Rheinmetall’s entry into the market. The
heavy criticism of the government’s allegedly one-sided support of
Krupp’s interests in 1905 was very disagreeable for a government that
tried to avoid all discussions about its relationship with the armaments
industry. Although Rheinmetall never stopped complaining about
German diplomats, the envoys were thereafter more cautious and at
least pretended to be ‘neutral’.78
In at least two important respects, the business strategy of the lead-
ing German armament rms differed from that of their British rivals.
First, in contrast to Vickers and Armstrong, whose success was partly
due to their joint-action arrangements in the overseas markets,79 the
German armourers and shipyards remained competitors abroad. All
attempts by the foreign of ce, the Prussian war ministry, and in uen-
tial Reichstag deputies to negotiate an agreement between Krupp and
Rheinmetall were unsuccessful. Despite strong political pressure,
Krupp refused to give Rheinmetall access to foreign markets it had
dominated for many years. The big shipyards in Hamburg, Kiel, Dan-
zig, and Bremen behaved similarly. Repeated appeals by the foreign
of ce and the Imperial Naval Of ce, that they should overcome their
traditional rivalries and work together to improve their chances against
their British, French, and American counterparts, had almost no
effect.80 Only in the Argentinian warship competition in 1908–09 did
Krupp and Blohm & Voss co-operate, although this partnership was at
rst severely strained by Krupp’s high armour and artillery prices.81
Eventually, the worsening situation of the German shipbuilding indus-
try brought about a change in 1913. Krupp, Blohm & Voss, and the
Vulcan AG in Stettin agreed to work together overseas. In order to be
competitive against Vickers and Armstrong, Krupp not only promised
to lower its prices for armour and artillery, but was also – just like
77
In order not to annoy the Russians the foreign of ce refused to support Krupp in
Bulgaria in 1895 and Persia in 1899. For details see Schöllgen, Imperialismus. pp. 84–
85.
78
Cf. the memo by Guenther, 11 March 1905, BA (Bundesarchiv), Berlin, BA R 43
F/11; Schöllgen, Imperialismus, pp. 234–38.
79
Cf. Trebilcock, The Vickers Brothers, pp. 124–25.
80
Cf. Admiral Rollmann to Blohm & Voss, 10 Dec. 1907, and Blohm & Voss’s
pessimistic answer, Staatsarchiv Hamburg, Blohm & Voss les, 621–1/1016.
81
Cf. Blohm & Voss to Krupp, 13 Feb. 1909, Staatsarchiv Hamburg, Blohm & Voss
les, 621–1/1021.

Vickers82 – even willing to help nance foreign warship orders gener-

ously if necessary.83 Unfortunately, Vickers’ and Armstrong’s repu-
tation as warship builders was so high that all attempts to receive an
order for one of the Turkish or Greek dreadnoughts in 1913–14
proved to be futile. Only in Russia did the German shipyards at least
gain some ground. In 1912 Schichau began to establish a new yard for
torpedo boats near Riga in order to participate in the new Russian
naval programme; at the same time, Blohm & Voss gave technical and
nancial aid to the Putilov works in St Petersburg. In return Putilov
ordered blueprints, technical equipment, and machines in Hamburg.84
Another important difference between Krupp, which, it is true,
remained an exception,85 and Vickers or Armstrong was Krupp’s
refusal to secure its position abroad by either collaborating with
foreign partners or by establishing factories inside foreign markets. As
a result of this policy, approaches by the Russian, Spanish, Romanian,
and Turkish governments to take over and administer their ordnance
factories86 were just as politely declined as the request by the foreign
of ce to help establish a private naval arsenal and a dockyard in Turkey
in 1912–13.87 Apart from the fact that Krupp considered the nancial
risks too high, the concern was simply ‘not interested in enabling other
countries to manufacture good artillery material themselves’.88
Accordingly, Krupp’s representatives did their best to convince foreign
governments that it would be much cheaper and easier to order guns
in Essen rather than to waste money on costly armament plants.
Licence agreements were, of course, a different matter. Since it was
out of the question that the admiralty in London or the US Navy89
82
Cf. Trebilcock, The Vickers Brothers, pp. 129–30.
83
Cf. Muehlon (Krupp) to Blohm & Voss, 11 April 1913, Staatsarchiv Hamburg,
Blohm & Voss les, 621–1/1122.
84
For details cf. Walden, ‘Entwicklung’, pp. 80–82.
85
In 1904/05 the leading German manufacturers of rearms, the Deutsche Waffen-
und Munitionsfabriken and the Mauser AG, the Austrian ri e manufacturer Steyr,
and the Fabrique Nationale d’Armes de Guerre in Belgium formed a cartel to divide
foreign orders. For details see Erzberger, Rüstungsausgaben, pp. 51–53. In order to
receive at least a small slice of Russia’s naval orders the Schichau shipyard opened a
branch in Riga, and the Vulcan in Stettin became a partner of a shipyard in Reval.
Cf. Walden, ‘Entwicklung’, pp. 82–83.
86
For details see the memo ‘Erfahrungen im Kriegsmaterial-Geschäft mit dem
Auslande’ (9 Sept. 1937), HA Krupp, WA VII f. 1448, pp. 73–87. During the war
Krupp displayed greater exibility towards Turkish wishes; the envisaged projects
could not be realized, however. For repeated Russian offers to take over the
Obuchov (1863/1868) and Putilov works (1905) or to build a new plant (1898) cf.
Kirchner, ‘Krupp, 1818–1914’, pp. 220–26.
87
Cf. Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach to Jagow, 23 Dec. 1913, Politisches Archiv des
Auswärtigen Amts, Berlin, Türkei no. 142, vol. 37.
88
Cf. the memo ‘Erfahrungen im Kriegsmaterial-Geschäft mit dem Auslande’, p. 73.
89
It is a common legend, recently again falsely repeated by G.E. Weir, Building the
Kaiser’s Navy: The Imperial Navy Ofce and German Industry in the von Tirpitz Era, 1890–
1919 (Annapolis, 1992, p. 47), that Krupp sold its armour to the US navy at a much
cheaper price than to the German navy. The detailed data on Krupp’s armour plate
exports in HA Krupp, WA VII f. 1095, do in fact prove that the Essen rm never
exported armour plate to the USA.

would become one of its customers for armour plate, Krupp could thus
make at least some pro t. The royalties paid for the Krupp process
until 1910 averaged 1 million marks annually.90
There can be no doubt that exports offered higher pro ts than
domestic deliveries. In contrast to the domestic market, where aggressive-
ness and high prices could seriously affect the relations with the army
or the navy, the foreign market did not know any such restrictions.
The armourers could try to make as much pro t as possible so long
as their prices were not undercut by other competitors. For example,
in the Argentinian warship competition Krupp’s price for armour plate
exceeded the domestic price by almost 125%.91 The rate of pro t for
torpedo boats built by Krupp’s own shipyard differed similarly: whereas
those for the High Seas Fleet were built with a pro t rate ranging from
2 to 17%, the boats built for Russia in 1905 reached a rate of 31%.
However, foreign orders did not always guarantee high pro ts: the two
torpedo boats built for Argentina in 1910 ended with a loss of 68 000
marks.92 In war material, in which Krupp had much more experience
than in shipbuilding, high gross pro ts were generally attributed to
large foreign orders.93
VI. Conclusion
Because of their questionable moral character, and their possibly
dangerous impact on both foreign and domestic politics and, as the
collapse of the Eastern bloc has only recently illustrated, on the econ-
omy, armaments, armament policies, and arms exports have been a
matter of serious debate among historians, politicians, and the public
ever since. As a result of the close interrelationship between arma-
ments and the threat, or even the use, of force, on the one hand, and
the questionable business strategies of the ‘merchants of death’, on
the other, the history of the so-called ‘military–industrial complex’ has
often been tinged with highly moral and emotional judgments. In view
of the horrible results of armaments and their use in the twentieth
90
Cf. Epkenhans, Wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, pp. 157–59. Krupp’s licence agreement
with Skoda in 1912 was a somewhat peculiar case. In 1909–10 Krupp was approached
several times by the Imperial Naval Of ce to assist Skoda, a request Krupp
grudgingly complied with. Since Skoda obviously had dif culties in manufacturing
big naval guns and since Austria was Germany’s only reliable ally, Krupp allowed
Skoda to build naval guns according to Krupp designs. Cf. the correspondence
between Tirpitz and the Austrian naval attaché in November 1909, BA-MA, RM 3/8,
Krupp to Tirpitz, 6 Jan. 1910, BA-MA, Nachlaß Tirpitz N 253/155, and the memo
‘Erfahrungen im Kriegsmaterial-Geschäft mit dem Auslande’, pp. 71–72.
91
Cf. Krupp to Blohm & Voss, 2 Feb. 1909, Staatsarchiv Hamburg, Blohm & Voss les,
621–1/1021.
92
For details see Epkenhans, Wilhelminische Flottenrüstung, pp. 457–59. These are the
only gures available.
93
Cf. the annual statements by Krupp’s nancial director, Haux, in HA Krupp, WA IV
1768. Unfortunately, precise gures about the difference between pro ts made at
home and abroad are not available.

century, these judgments are, of course, understandable. From a

strictly historical point of view, however, they are often distorted or
even unsubstantiated, because they are based on half-truths, rumours,
and false legends instead of careful investigation of the evidence. Only
an ‘adjustment of the balance’,94 which ‘relate[s] arms dealing to the
industrial context’95 and to the complex dif culties of the armament
markets, will allow a detailed examination of the relationship between
the state and private armourers and – above all – of the true responsi-
bilities within this relationship. As recent research has shown rather
convincingly, from an overall point of view there can be no doubt that
military–industrial complexes provided only the hardware for political
and military leaders alike, who regarded armaments more generally
as a defensive insurance premium, a deterrent, and an instrument of
diplomatic leverage, rather than as the means of military aggression.96
94
Cf. C. Trebilcock, ‘Legends of the British Armaments Industry, 1890–1914: A
Revision’, Journal of Contemporary History, v (1970), p. 4.
95
Op. cit., p. 19.
96
Cf. Stevenson, Armaments, p. 413.

22
Appendix
Table 1 Krupp: export of war materials to foreign countries (important and regular customers) in marks
Argentina Belgium Brazil Bulgaria China Greece Netherlands Japan Austria Romania Russia Spain Turkey USAa Sweden/ Italy Portugal Chile
Norway
1875/76 46 900 804 350 2 452 275 220 370 7 075 740 3 859 100
1876/77 3 186 705 324 335 505 515 30 130 3 193 015 8 548 825 2 868 655
1877/78 178 320 2 607 245 2 097 665 2 584 620 203 280 10 712 110 1 071 000 49 930
1878/79 199 105 3 313 405 197 620 50 905 42 125 5 543 465 2 246 520
1879/80 2 105 850 2 260 755 3 415 320 600 148 570 791 650 5 270 34 755

1880/81 679 955 1 014 420 4 253 045 576 835 1 048 025 255 610 16 720 395 735
1881/82 205 1 779 560 1 231 035 770 050 920 770 742 860 14 160 14 895 2 204 310
1882/83 1 238 545 11 100 3 281 545 363 635 1 894 620 67 375 1 652 485 529 685 47 105 5 345 6 555 24 885 160 925 5 390
Michael Epkenhans
1883/84 351 490 33 265 53 735 1 613 090 23 315 1 248 305 337 140 1 128 179 6 145 924 660 1 788 440 2 540 213 665 27 930 2 310
1884/85 3 913 430 4 605 14 900 4 018 715 134 735 1 457 360 1 058 880 1 800 115 833 200 208 120 2 364 515 3 915 112 730 26 700
1885/86 203 440 1 219 380 3 806 615 1 656 785 1 254 660 2 137 375 313 565 667 425 637 880 93 205 3 651 845 127 835 2 356 650 1 895 480
1886/87 10 550 432 745 1 042 520 2 921 725 39 780 1 094 370 1 427 470 19 870 1 663 035 606 185 111 610 5 139 270 157 985 196 490 500 740
1887/88 36 520 309 200 69 015 1 045 935 5 820 2 369 430 624 680 391 785 1 616 360 3 119 025 970 4 887 940 295 055 260 485 22 600
1888/89 10 810 515 605 649 095 3 199 545 1 164 845 37 070 607 725 937 700 2 840 34 870 5 656 040 96 440 1 459 320 146 050
1889/90 303 000 518 725 70 900 1 973 715 951 595 157 330 673 830 138 960 1 889 190 1 523 925 1 410 680 121 625 1 949 940 225 485
1890/91 3 151 390 528 960 734 730 3 469 530 4 845 1 094 270 707 175 47 645 1 547 360 7 590 82 695 230 985 40 340
1891/92 3 274 610 193 640 5 867 815 1 956 015 5 375 494 795 142 910 92 020 1 270 3 610 25 695 320 655 540
1892/93 324 560 2 007 875 2 011 495 2 485 706 505 380 050 28 525 575 9 575 980 370
1893/94 1 906 405 335 1 437 855 5 134 150 745 363 375 2 011 865 4 588 175 100 320 13 795 169 405
1894/95 3 292 480 1 125 4 534 235 630 1 405 470 80 880 23 965 21 565 2 030 800 109 015 63 375
1895/96 19 554 075 28 615 8 035 625 2 815 1 083 065 266 800 557 655 105 897 950 7 390 130 695 59 335
1896/97 5 341 245 42 830 498 885 83 435 2 366 870 358 265 2 829 640 4 040 513 650 237 985 96 095 376 140
1897/98 574 895 1 625 3 471 535 497 390 562 725 155 240 1 392 150 125 875 255 040 1 213 045 25 640 152 675
1898/99 6 586 220 1 760 450 178 390 69 545 3 442 700 309 210 113 505 49 735 31 535 1 204 115 19 585 362 005 615 240
1899/1900 6 453 290 213 725 31 070 540 385 5 852 890 2 542 970 15 795 366 110 51 735 120 735 751 055 729 270
1900/01 6 632 905 3 105 4 630 174 300 3 477 750 1 280 905 2 716 885 191 195 847 115 187 970 22 160 336 660 490 538 165
1901/02 1 556 880 49 680 30 7 045 5 058 515 3 009 605 2 790 700 1 223 225 4 929 190 1 395 1 112 575 42 125
1902/03 4 289 075 63 630 4 040 885 2 911 380 1 208 950 10 425 226 850 90 26 630 2 765 692 305 2 485
1903/04 8 485 23 520 3 1545 1 593 905 359 090 185 735 1 840 490 4 835 30 190 209 450 306 045 1 779 250 125 010 134 600 2 476 355 1 115 960 315
1904/05 1 044 690 160 110 2 617 525 3 658 495 55 815 2 251 520 16 002 135 40 345 391 615 6 629 370 23 520 8 098 825 267 385 275 1 535 405
1905/06 54 150 2 064 625 889 900 447 900 2 295 6 579 245 13 102 900 10 065 186 655 5 791 990 1 020 8 719 840 449 840 447 885 1 236 235
1906/07 6 560 1 149 770 2 472 710 6 791 785 1 401 930 11 900 5 217 495 5 152 620 49 865 21 401 195 4 300 3 170 21 029 750 539 470 1 694 485 1 144 590
1907/08 4 130 670 255 3 980 590 600 2 101 730 1 748 080 2 689 115 558 740 6 526 880 29 515 18 707 375 1 359 145 13 907 995 1 294 280
1908/09 50 1 475 720 1 186 985 125 875 2 585 875 206 850 846 015 3 039 145 1 200 340 4 343 440 1 500 9 295 1 260 100 22 190 1 406 940 17 320
1090/10 5 146 075 466 270 11 905 930 1 247 770 1 760 630 397 380 5 388 110 160 365 46 060 1 894 355 8 025 631 670 1 875 176 110 4 931 315 386 405 49 400
1910/11 18 682 710 842 055 11 965 563 555 3 480 140 39 970 3 982 135 515 830 375 310 8 710 12 500 35 150 4 155 425 11 920 6 123 955 6 160
1911/12 7 066 930 6 387 710 480 595 367 215 405 550 713 615 1 287 670 148 885 1 979 760 22 145 41 595 3 539 050 58 535 5 835 380 11 012 855
1912/13 6 667 100 973 850 5 100 160 1 328 680 3 250 555 41 530 2 317 735 1 007 505 101 235 7 589 930 178 530 76 405 4 623 170 298 105 9 866 525 361 800 8 863 685
1913/14 110 990 348 350 6 587 995 5 169 680 3 896 760 865 330 1 125 870 246 590 407 200 11 116 940 162 495 286 385 5 287 650 69 490 4 880 765 225 9 940 4 544 835
(Sweden)
85
(Norway)
a
Until 1902/03 all exports to the Americas were combined, so it is impossible to say which countries received war materials.
Table 2 Krupp: gross pro t on armour plate and artillery (percentage of total turnover,
in marks)
Armour plate War material (artillery)

gross pro t gross pro t
Marks % Marks %
1897/98 3 633 975 60.27 11 383 379 33.8

1898/99 6 145 506 56.92 11 578 531 27.6
1899/1900 8 564 912 58.91 14 099 418 33.2
1900/01 10 336 328 57.10 8 196 588 19.80
1901/02 5 838 963 54.43 10 460 189 24.5
1902/03 7 258 405 58.06 5 916 574 20.9
1903/04 4 902 192 62.03 11 212 710 30.2
1904/05 3 803 976 46.44 26 202 435 33.4
1905/06 6 832 828 73.17 25 905 951 34.1
1906/07 5 942 988 54.79 28 720 150 26.8
1907/08 4 615 597 60.27 24 037 858 27.5
1908/09 11 626 953 60.77 18 768 843 27.1
1909/10 13 893 583 61.63 24 498 867 30.2
1910/11 16 114 041 65.90 35 379 727 33.0
1911/12 13 180 191 61.99 39 801 432 34.8
1912/13 15 867 396 60.51 39 537 596 30.5
1913/14 15 149 567 64.05 36 893 887 31.8
Source: HA Krupp, WA IV, 2413–29.
Table 3 Shipbuilding for the German navy (displacement tons)
Total (t) Naval dockyards Private shipyards
t % t %
1898 35 576 16 757 41.10 18 819 58.90

1899 7 089 5 885 83.01 1 204 16.99
1900 36 098 23 575 65.31 12 523 34.69
1901 35 025 2 659 7.59 32 366 92.41
1902 59 540 21 638 36.34 37 902 63.66
1903 29 155 – 0 29 155 100
1904 58 940 20 861 35.39 38 079 64.61
1905 61 559 3 278 5.32 58 281 94.68
1906 27 064 9 533 35.22 17 531 64.78
1907 55 317 19 859 35.90 35 458 64.10
1908 56 716 7 279 12.83 49 437 87.17
1909 65 713 39 221 59.68 26 492 40.32
1910 76 574 5 348 6.98 71 226 93.02
1911 107 338 23 794 22.16 83 544 77.84
1912 124 698 31 964 25.63 92 734 74.37
1913 108 212 2 600 2.40 105 612 97.60
1914 39 096 1 350 3.45 37 746 96.55
Source: E. Gröner, Die deutschen Kriegsschiffe, 1815–1845, vols. , 2nd edn (Munich,
I–V
1982–87).

Table 4 Warships built by private shipyards for the German navy and for foreign navies
(displacement tons)
Total (t) German navy Foreign navies
t % t %
1898 29 854 18 819 63.03 11 035 36.97

1899 1 204 1 204 100 – –
1900 23 685 12 523 52.87 11 162 47.13

1901 44 686 32 366 72.43 12 320 27.57
1902 44 652 37 902 84.89 6 750 15.11
1903 41 171 29 155 70.81 12 016 29.19
1904 38 079 38 079 100 – –
1905 59 541 58 281 97.88 1 260 2.12
1906 22 191 17 531 79.00 4 660 21.00
1907 38 783 35 458 91.42 3 325 8.58
1908 51 517 49 437 95.96 2 080 4.04
1909 26 692 26 492 99.25 200 0.75
1910 74 856 71 226 95.15 3 630 4.85
1911 88 764 83 544 94.11 5 220 5.89
1912 94 844 92 734 97.77 2 110 2.23
1913 108 366 105 612 97.45 2 754 2.55
Source: E. Gröner, Die deutschen Kriegsschiffe, 1815–1945, vols. , 2nd edn (Munich,
I–V
1982–87), and the shipyards’ registers.

Table 5 Share of armaments’ turnover of Krupp’s total turnover
Total Amour plate, navy Armour plate, exports War material, navy War material, army War material, exports Germania shipyard Naval share War material, total
(marks)
marks % marks % marks % marks % marks % marks % marks % marks %
1878/79 38 431 180 3 141 400 8.2 2 510 620 6.5 12 777 630 33.2
1879/80 30 037 345 891 620 3.0 138 830 0.5 5 909 750 19.7
1880/81 40 595 681 1 176 025 2.9 303 350 7.5 8 854 040 21.8
1881/82 46 402 878 1 200 645 2.6 537 000 1.2 9 698 635 20.9
1882/83 46 026 993 718 770 1.6 319 000 0.7 11 366 140 24.7
1883/84 36 512 250 1 418 090 3.9 252 480 0.7 8 287 940 22.7
1884/85 42 559 537 1 737 655 4.1 245 200 0.6 16 689 265 39.2
1885/86 47 318 145 3 341 470 7.1 379 130 0.8 21 213 990 44.8
1886/87 42 201 110 2 044 745 4.8 57 515 0.1 16 871 225 40.0
1887/88 47 470 883 1 651 695 3.5 480 950 1.0 17 957 360 37.8
1888/89 47 890 466 973 170 2.0 2 873 845 6.0 15 192 060 31.7
1889/90 51 406 004 1 221 750 2.4 1 468 440 2.9 12 314 614 24.0
1890/91 55 854 718 942 415 1.7 1 069 640 1.9 13 509 030 24.2
1891/92 57 574 506 2 530 575 4.4 4 533 080 7.9 3 460 835 6.0 14 220 080 24.7
1892/93 47 629 410 5 487 410 11.5 3 992 900 8.4 5 091 675 10.7 7 613 080 16.0
1893/94 75 336 785 3 275 295 4.3 14 671 220 19.5 12 598 990 16.7 17 260 360 23.0
1894/95 58 660 831 829 360 1.4 7 948 115 13.5 5 152 905 8.8 15 350 330 26.2
1895/96 74 136 498 564 810 0.8 390 535 0.5 6 060 910 8.2 1 211 880 1.6 31 394 180 42.3
1896/97 74 650 182 3 683 980 4.9 1 434 740 1.9 2 462 265 3.3 10 695 695 14.3 13 413 405 18.0
1897/98 82 525 183 5 646 485 6.8 382 410 0.5 4 847 320 5.9 19 724 205 23.9 8 606 210 10.4 6 964 324 10 447 320 12.65 39 177 735 47.47
1898/99 103 082 991 9 792 620 9.5 1 004 095 1.0 11 160 825 10.8 14 586 335 14.2 15 233 045 14.8 4 971 475 20 960 825 20.33 51 780 205 50.23
1899/1900 119 752 495 11 457 530 9.5 3 080 830 2.6 13 731 380 11.5 10 285 105 8.6 18 196 185 15.2 8 249 470 25 171 380 21.01 56 752 670 47.39
1900/01 119 178 537 11 878 050 10.0 6 221 610 5.2 16 686 520 14.0 7 921 515 6.6 16 662 755 14.0 28 564 570 23.96 59 370 450 49.81
1901/02 101 373 295 8 288 800 8.2 2 437 620 2.4 15 488 620 15.3 6 139 095 6.1 20 957 685 20.7 23 777 420 23.45 53 311 820 52.58
1902/03 125 803 983 11 103 435 8.8 1 397 945 1.1 14 869 740 11.8 3 555 285 2.8 9 700 410 7.7 11 296 000 8.97 25 973 175 20.64 40 626 815 32.29
1903/04 126 254 823 6 355 385 5.0 1 547 160 1.2 17 695 830 14.0 6 872 235 5.4 11 675 120 9.2 6 342 088 5.02 24 051 215 19.04 44 145 730 34.96
1904/05 179 006 770 6 488 530 3.6 1 701 585 1.0 22 044 745 12.3 8 182 655 4.6 47 473 365 26.5 10 511 031 5.87 28 533 275 15.93 85 890 880 47.97
1905/06 228 456 644 9 199 655 4.0 137 810 0.1 16 041 620 7.0 16 303 770 7.1 42 975 420 18.8 26 013 054 11.38 25 241 275 11.04 84 658 275 37.05
1906/07 283 895 394 9 318 435 3.3 1 527 290 0.5 22 353 890 7.9 14 770 935 5.2 69 320 545 24.4 13 754 635 4.84 31 672 325 11.15 117 291 095 41.31
1907/08 271 471 797 7 641 375 2.8 16 370 0.005 23 207 050 8.5 12 856 115 4.7 50 928 810 18.8 15 130 992 5.57 30 848 425 11.35 94 649 720 34.86
1908/09 243 679 045 18 428 095 7.6 703 305 0.3 43 248 770 17.7 6 567 340 2.7 18 833 125 7.7 19 293 961 7.91 61 676 865 25.31 87 780 635 36.02
1909/10 280 335 531 21 556 255 7.7 986 775 0.3 34 862 755 12.4 9 471 750 3.4 36 249 645 12.9 27 150 770 9.68 56 419 010 20.12 103 127 180 36.78
1910/11 313 991 412 24 436 290 7.8 15 250 0.004 59 371 760 18.9 7 284 860 2.3 39 906 095 12.7 13 592 982 4.32 83 808 050 26.69 131 014 255 41.72
Military–Industrial Relations in Imperial Germany
1911/12 363 146 018 21 011 060 5.8 249 940 0.1 62 572 155 17.2 10 958 005 3.0 39 923 425 11.0 26 124 790 7.19 83 583 215 23.01 134 714 585 37.09
1912/13 430 738 792 26 013 515 6.0 205 345 0.04 57 311 370 13.3 18 107 575 4.2 53 113 365 12.3 33 966 008 7.88 83 324 885 19.34 154 751 170 35.92
1913/14 406 288 442 23 643 105 5.8 6 870 0.001 57 785 190 14.2 13 321 720 3.3 43 833 885 10.8 28 003 462 6.89 81 428 295 20.04 138 590 770 34.11
25

Table 6 The development of military expenditure with regard to state expenditure and the net
social product, 1871–1913 (selected years)
Military expenditure Percentage of state Percentage of net

(in million marks) expenditure social product
1874 348.6 27.2 2.4

1890 791.2 27.5 3.8
1900 823.3 20.4 2.9
1909 1 287.0 20.6 3.3
1913 1 771.2 22.8 3.6
Source: H.-J. Bontrup and N. Zdrowomyslaw, Die deutsche Rü ¨ stungsindustrie: Vom
Kaiserreich zur Bundesrepublik (Heilbronn, 1988), pp. 22–3.

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Military-Industrial Relations in Imperial Germany, 1870-1914

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Military–Industrial Relations

I. Military–industrial relationships in Germany in

War in History 2003 10 (1) 1–26 10.1191/0968344503wh270oa Ó 2003 Arnold

II. The Structure of the German Armament

War in History 2003 10 (1)

1906.5 On the one hand these arsenals, which employed 28 723

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

III. The Relationships Between the Army, the

War in History 2003 10 (1)

‘partner’ from a purely military and technical point of view. Secondly,

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

down prices skilfully. Thus he also prevented the formation of a ship-

War in History 2003 10 (1)

In the event, however, there can be no doubt that the armament

IV. Armaments and Economic Development,

War in History 2003 10 (1)

net social product shows that, generally speaking, the relationship

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

V. Armament Exports: Political and Military

War in History 2003 10 (1)

most important ones. Accordingly, there were almost no restrictions

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

order to be competitive against British and French rivals in the inter-

War in History 2003 10 (1)

and modern propaganda in the form of brochures, expositions, and

War in History 2003 10 (1)

Vickers82 – even willing to help  nance foreign warship orders gener-

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

century, these judgments are, of course, understandable. From a

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

Armour plate War material (artillery)

1897/98 3 633 975 60.27 11 383 379 33.8

Source: HA Krupp, WA IV, 2413–29.

Table 3 Shipbuilding for the German navy (displacement tons)

Total (t) Naval dockyards Private shipyards

1898 35 576 16 757 41.10 18 819 58.90

War in History 2003 10 (1)

Total (t) German navy Foreign navies

1898 29 854 18 819 63.03 11 035 36.97

1900 23 685 12 523 52.87 11 162 47.13

1982–87), and the shipyards’ registers.

War in History 2003 10 (1)

War in History 2003 10 (1)

Military expenditure Percentage of state Percentage of net

1874 348.6 27.2 2.4

War in History 2003 10 (1)

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