A Surprising Proposal from an Expansionist Power

In May 1899, the world witnessed an unexpected diplomatic move from an unlikely source: Tsarist Russia, fresh from its territorial acquisitions in Port Arthur and Dalian, took the initiative to convene the first Hague Peace Conference. This paradoxical gesture—a call for international disarmament by a nation actively expanding its empire—was orchestrated by Foreign Minister Mikhail Muravyov under the approval of Emperor Nicholas II.

The origins of this initiative trace back to a discussion about military modernization. In March 1898, War Minister Alexei Kuropatkin raised concerns about the exorbitant costs of adopting rapid-fire artillery, proposing a 10-year moratorium on such weapons with Austria-Hungary. Nicholas II, revealing his long-standing skepticism toward arms races, enthusiastically endorsed the idea, seeing it as a step toward broader disarmament.

From Bilateral Pacts to Global Ambitions

Kuropatkin’s modest proposal soon ballooned into a grand diplomatic venture. Muravyov, seizing the opportunity to counterbalance Russia’s aggressive image in East Asia, expanded the plan into a call for a multilateral freeze on military expenditures. His memorandum to the tsar framed disarmament as a moral imperative, citing the economic strain of arms races and the need for arbitration mechanisms to prevent conflicts.

The timing was strategic. Russia, while consolidating its hold on Manchuria, sought to present itself as a champion of peace. This duality reflected the influence of Ivan Bloch (or Bloch), a Polish-Jewish financier and author of The Future of War, whose six-volume treatise warned that industrialized warfare would lead to catastrophic societal collapse. Bloch’s ideas, introduced to Nicholas II through Finance Minister Sergei Witte, lent intellectual weight to the disarmament push.

The Hague Conference: High Hopes and Limited Outcomes

On May 18, 1899, delegates from 26 nations—including Great Powers and smaller states like Siam (Thailand)—gathered at the Huis ten Bosch palace. Notably absent was Korea, a lapse highlighting its diplomatic isolation compared to Siam’s savvy engagement with European powers.

The conference produced three conventions (on dispute resolution, land warfare, and maritime adaptation of the Geneva Conventions) and three declarations (banning aerial bombs, poison gas, and expanding bullets). However, key proposals—like a freeze on military budgets—were deferred due to opposition from Germany and others. Japan, wary of restrictions on its military modernization (e.g., its proprietary Shimose powder), signed only after securing exemptions.

The Masan Affair: Russia’s Strategic Blunder in Korea

Even as Russia championed peace, its actions in Korea undermined its rhetoric. Despite securing Port Arthur, the Russian Navy coveted Masanpo (now Masan, South Korea) as a supplementary ice-free port. In May 1899, Russian agents and naval officers attempted to strongarm Korean officials into selling land near the newly opened port—a move swiftly countered by Japanese merchants and diplomats.

The fiasco exposed Russia’s overreach. As War Minister Kuropatkin had privately admitted, disarmament served Russia’s interests by masking its technological lag. Yet the Masan episode revealed a reckless disregard for Japan’s red lines, prompting Japanese leaders like Prime Minister Yamagata Aritomo to weigh war as a last resort.

Legacy: Peace as Power Politics

The Hague Conference’s mixed results underscored the era’s contradictions. While it established foundational humanitarian laws of war, its failure to curb militarism foreshadowed the carnage of World War I. For Russia, the conference was both a publicity coup and a missed opportunity—a fleeting attempt to reconcile empire-building with idealism, undone by its own geopolitical ambitions.

In the end, the 1899 Hague Conference remains a testament to the uneasy relationship between power and principle, a theme as relevant today as it was in the age of imperial rivalries.