Security Policy Lessons from a Century Ago

The survival prospects of small states and nations in a world where high-level political games are played over their heads have never been particularly promising. The main traumas of Estonia’s recent history are directly linked to episodes in which great powers have negotiated behind closed doors and drawn lines of influence on the map without consulting the people most directly affected.

It is precisely because of events such as the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact of 1939, the Yalta Conference of 1945, and others like them that the states and peoples of central and eastern Europe support international law and rules-based security architecture. These are the only means to resist attempts to reshape the world according to the law of the strongest. It is worth recalling that in 1998, President Lennart Meri put forward the idea that international law is the nuclear weapon of small states.

A Déjà Vu

This same historical experience also explains these countries’ heightened sensitivity to attempts to hollow out the principles of international law and collective security and to return to policies of imperial redistribution. For them, the recent attempts by the current US administration to engage with Russia pose a real danger that they might be traded away at the negotiating table or pushed into the status of a buffer zone or no man’s land—in reality, back into the Russian sphere of influence. The likely consequences of such a development are very familiar to them, and what is happening in the Russian-occupied territories of Ukraine has offered a stark contemporary reminder.

At the same time, it is important to remember that support for a rules-based and open international order is not simply a niche concern of “weaker actors.” In fact, the great powers themselves came to the same conclusion after the wars of the 20th century—even if not all of them wish to be reminded of it today. President Putin has repeatedly expressed bewilderment over who established the rules of international conduct that currently constrain Russia. Yet, it is a fact that Russian, and later Soviet, jurists and diplomats were among those who helped develop them.

Perhaps the most famous example of the consequences of secret diplomacy and spheres-of-influence politics is World War I, which broke out in 1914. It was a war that seemingly no one had wanted, but one that could not be prevented in the absence of a functioning mechanism of deterrence. It was this experience that gave rise to discussions on how such a conflict might be avoided. Apparently, the international system based on a balance between rival military alliances was fundamentally flawed: a world order that should have guaranteed peace had instead led to a war of unprecedented scale and casualties.

The League of Nations & Collective Security

From this experience, a far-reaching conclusion emerged: the real cause of the war had been the principles of sovereignty, which granted states the absolute right to form alliances, wage war, and make peace, limited only by their own political calculations. Yet, it was possible to imagine an alternative world order, not dominated by clashing interests but based on a shared will among states to manage and, where necessary, jointly reduce the risk of war. Since the world war had shown that modern conflict affects not just individual states but the international community as a whole, the threat of war had to be addressed collectively: with the creation of institutions to manage it and the involvement of as many states as possible.

Similar ideas had circulated earlier as well, but a turning point came with the peace terms that US President Woodrow Wilson formulated after the United States entered the war in spring 1917. Unlike the European countries, which had already suffered heavy casualties, the United States could afford to frame its involvement in idealistic rather than self-serving terms. In a January 1918 speech outlining his peace principles—the “Fourteen Points”—Wilson proposed the creation of an international organisation of nations. When the German government requested an immediate armistice and the opening of peace talks in October of the same year, it was Wilson’s points that were taken as the basis for negotiations.

The Covenant of the League of Nations, drafted at the 1919 Paris Peace Conference, included two key clauses on collective security. Under Article 10, member states pledged to respect the territorial integrity and political independence of all other members and to protect them against external aggression. Article 16 stated that any member state found guilty of military aggression would be automatically considered at war with all other members of the League. Members were required to sever all relations with the aggressor, impose trade and financial blockades, and await instructions from the League Council regarding military sanctions. A member that violated the Covenant could be expelled from the League—as the Soviet Union was in 1939 after it attacked Finland.

The Original Sins

However, from the outset, the new organisation was weakened by fundamental problems that only deepened over time. Initially, Germany was not admitted as a member, meaning the League was quite clearly an organisation of the victorious powers—a similar flaw to the one that would later figure in the composition of the UN Security Council. Secondly, a French proposal to create a separate League military force was voted down, undermining the credibility of the collective security principle. Thirdly, the League’s initiator, the United States, ultimately decided not to join, dealing a severe blow to its international weight.

American post-war cautiousness was also reflected in Washington’s position on Russia. Although Wilson had partly recognised the principle of national self-determination in his Fourteen Points, the United States adopted a wait-and-see approach on the question of Russia’s future. Believing that the Bolsheviks would not remain in power for long and hoping that a democratic Russian state, briefly glimpsed in 1917, could be restored within its former borders (excluding Finland and Poland), the United States was long unwilling to recognise the independence of the Baltic states. It finally did extend its recognition in the summer of 1922—after most European countries had already done so—but it came with the caveat that this did not mean any broader shift in US policy on Russia. Only in 1933 did the United States officially recognise the Soviet Union.

America’s cautious attitude towards Russia remains evident today. Since the Cold War, US policy has been characterised by a reluctance to take steps that might seriously challenge Russian security interests. The Baltic states have, nevertheless, managed to become full members of the “western clubs,” but the same caution continues to shape the US stance on Ukraine’s ambitions to join NATO.

Appeasement, however, can easily give the aggressor a sense of impunity. The passivity of western states a century ago went hand in hand with Soviet aggression against the Baltic states, culminating in their annexation by the Soviet Union in 1940. Likewise, when the Russian Federation launched its full-scale war against Ukraine, it did so in the belief that there would be no serious international consequences.

Security Policy Alternatives for Small States

In the 1920s, the small states around the Baltic Sea were a diverse group. They included the established Scandinavian kingdoms, the newly independent Baltic states, and Finland in something of an intermediate position. For all of them, the end of World War I posed the challenge of developing a new foreign policy, for which they were prepared to varying degrees.

Before the establishment of the League of Nations complicated the picture, small and medium-sized states that lacked the means to defend themselves had three main strategic options for ensuring their security. These were forming an alliance with a great power, entering into a federation with states of similar size, or pursuing a policy of neutrality guaranteed by as many other states as possible.

For a small state, an alliance with a stronger power was the most straightforward and accessible form of defence policy. However, it also posed a risk to sovereignty, as it meant becoming unilaterally dependent on the larger partner. To minimise this risk, it was essential to choose the partner carefully. For this reason, the states of the Baltic region were reluctant to align themselves closely with Soviet Russia, the region’s dominant great power.

Estonia and Latvia also considered it dangerous to rely on Germany—partly for historical reasons but particularly because Germany had lost the war and remained economically and militarily weak throughout the 1920s. Finland, which in its first year of independence had placed its hopes on German military success, was forced to abandon that course and reorient quickly. The idea of relying on the major western European powers foundered on their lack of interest. For example, Estonia had tried to forge closer ties with Britain during its War of Independence, but British security interests in the Baltic region were not sufficient to justify any concrete defence commitments.

A Baltic League

A federation with states in similar situations was a better alternative, as it avoided direct dependence on any one great power. The small and medium-sized countries of the Baltic Sea region could have formed a joint bloc with a credible defence and deterrence capability. After declaring its independence and initially seeking to guarantee its neutrality, Estonia turned next to the idea of building such a federation.

The idea, formulated in autumn 1918, envisaged a Baltic League of as many of the small states along the Baltic Sea as possible, so they could jointly defend their independence. A series of meetings was held to this end. But aligning different security priorities and interests proved difficult, especially in the absence of a stronger country willing to assume a leadership role. The inclusion of Poland was blocked by its territorial dispute with Lithuania, which made simultaneous cooperation with both countries extremely difficult. Sweden, committed to a long-standing policy of neutrality, showed from the outset no willingness to align with the Baltic states.

The reasoning behind this Swedish stance is explained in a memorandum signed in January 1919 by Foreign Minister Johannes Hellner, whose main points continued to shape policy thereafter. It stated that the territory of the Baltic states was of vital importance to Russia as an access point to the Baltic Sea, making their prospects for sustained independence uncertain. The memo also claimed that the societies of these new states were fractured by social and national tensions and concluded that although a buffer zone of newly independent states would be in Sweden’s interest, leading such a federation would exceed Sweden’s capabilities and put it on a collision course with a resurgent Russia—a risk to be avoided at all costs.

At the same time, Sweden worked to dissuade Finland from establishing close ties with the Baltic states, so as not to fall into the same trap. This policy eventually succeeded, and Finland opted for a unilateral Scandinavian orientation. The Baltic states were thus left on their own, and their limited capacity to make foreign policy compromises led to the collapse of the ambitious Baltic League project. Its only tangible outcomes were the Estonia–Latvia defence pact and the “Baltic Entente” signed in 1934, which carried almost no real weight in defence terms.

From the perspective of 2025, this earlier failure might serve as a cautionary tale, but it need not be an obstacle. This is especially true because the countries involved now enjoy a broad consensus on security matters: Poland and Lithuania no longer see each other as adversaries, and Sweden is not attempting to undermine Finland’s cooperation with Estonia. All have unequivocally condemned Russian aggression against Ukraine and other neighbouring countries. The frameworks of the European Union and now NATO connect the eastern and western shores of the Baltic Sea. Regional defence cooperation is not only a possibility but, to a large extent, already a reality. The key is to ensure that it remains sustainable, even in the face of potential setbacks affecting the wider frameworks.

A Chimera of Neutrality

Finally, a few words on neutrality—a persistent chimera in debates over security in eastern Europe. For a small state, internationally guaranteed neutrality is one of the most attractive security policy options. It allows reliance on great powers (unlike a federation) but without dependence on a particular one (unlike an alliance). Switzerland, which stayed out of World War I, serves as an early-20th-century example of successfully guaranteed neutrality. Belgium, whose neutrality was violated by Germany and whose involvement significantly widened the war, represents the opposite case. After the war, Belgium had no wish to return to neutrality and instead opted for a defence pact with France. This experience fuelled scepticism that the new states created in the post-war period could maintain neutrality. Several, including Estonia, were forced to abandon this goal.

The greater problem, however, was that neutrality was fundamentally incompatible with the League of Nations’ principle of collective defence. The right of neutral member states to abstain from League Council decisions—that is, to remain neutral in their application—undermined both the principle of member state solidarity and the organisation’s overall credibility. For this reason, neutrality was not foreseen in the League’s Covenant, and the new states emerging at the time opted without much hesitation for collective defence over neutrality.

The situation was different for the older Scandinavian states, which had also managed to remain neutral during the war—not due to guarantees from the great powers but thanks to their own balancing strategies. They now faced a crossroads. Should they continue with the neutrality that had served them well, or should they join the League of Nations? For small states, opting out of collective defence—as the United States had done—was dangerous, since the new organisation could well become the leading force in the post-war world. At the same time, the League was still an untested experiment. Would it turn out to be just another tool for great powers to pursue their own geopolitical interests?

In the end, the Scandinavian countries decided to join as founding members. This decision was influenced by the fact that, even before the organisation was officially established, its security guarantees had already begun to be watered down. When it joined the League, Switzerland was allowed to retain its status as a neutral state and to abstain from participating in military sanctions. This precedent allowed other small states to argue that their neutrality was compatible with membership. From the outset, however, this inconsistency damaged the credibility of collective defence.

In 1935, after the League’s failed attempt to impose collective economic sanctions on Italy for its invasion of Ethiopia, Belgium once again declared itself neutral. In 1938, Switzerland persuaded the League to recognise its “absolute neutrality,” which also meant exemption from economic sanctions. In July of that same year, the “Oslo group”—seven Nordic and Benelux countries—declared that they did not consider Article 16 of the Covenant binding. On 19 September, Estonia and Latvia issued a similar joint declaration, followed a few days later by Lithuania.

In this way, small states managed to avoid being drawn into a war that seemed increasingly likely between Germany and the western powers. In the long term, however, neutrality failed to protect them—with few exceptions. In September 1939, the “neutral” Baltic states were forced to accept the Soviet “mutual assistance” diktat, which led within months to the loss of their independence. In the process, the League of Nations—and with it the principle of collective security—suffered a fatal blow.

This article was written for the Lennart Meri Conference special issue of ICDS Diplomaatia magazine. Views expressed in ICDS publications are those of the author(s).