International Judicial Monitor
Published by the International Judicial Academy, Washington, D.C., with assistance from the
American Society of International Law

Spring 2015 Issue
 

Historic Moments in International Law

 

Disputation on the Frontier

Stephen C. NeffBy: Stephen  C.  Neff, Reader in Law – Public International Law, University of Edinburgh Law School

The frontier in question is not the American wild west – though it was wild enough in its own way.  The reference is to the northeastern frontier of Latin Christendom in the Middle Ages.  It was the scene of one of the three great crusade enterprises of the period – and the least known of them.  The other two were in the Holy Land in Palestine and Spain.  The northeastern crusade differed from the other two in being directed not against Muslims, but rather against pagan peoples of Lithuania and other assorted non-Christian groups, who inhabited lands around the southeastern corner of the Baltic Sea.  These lands boasted of storybook-sounding names such as Livonia, Courland, Galindia, Samogitia, Varmia, Pogezania and Estonia (the last one still with us).  In Germany itself, a remnant of these populations continues to exist, in the form of a minority group known as the Sorbs. 

Entrusted with the crusade effort was a group known as the Teutonic Knights.  They had been founded as a military order in Palestine in 1198, during the Third Crusade – with the impressive title of the “Order of the Brothers of the Teutonic House of the Virgin Mary in Jerusalem.”  A key event in their relocation to the Baltic region was the investiture of the Order’s master as an imperial prince for Kulmerland by Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II, in the Golden Bull of Rimini in 1226, which gave the Order effective control of Prussia.  In 1234, Pope Gregory IX graciously accepted Prussia as a feudal fief, to be held by the Order under papal suzerainty.  The Knights’ polity was known at the time as the Ordenstaat, or State of the Teutonic Order.

The Christianity manifested by the Teutonic Knights was of the decidedly muscular variety.  Their campaign against the Lithuanians in particular was essentially a permanent programme of ethnic cleansing, extending for over a century.  In a series of virtually annual expeditions that began in the early Fourteenth Century, the native Lithuanian population was driven out of the area that became East Prussia and replaced by German colonists under the tutelage of the Order.  The resemblance to the American west is not altogether far-fetched.

Trouble, from the legal standpoint, began in 1386, when Queen Jadwiga of Poland undertook a rival strategy that could be described – perhaps with some generosity – as making love rather than war.  That is to say, she married the pagan grand duke of Lithuania, Jogailo, who thereby assumed a second legal identity as King Wladyslaw II of Poland.  An important part of the arrangement was that Wladyslaw would convert to Christianity, as he duly did.  The Teutonic Knights, however, were not disposed to be deprived, in this abrupt manner, of one of their foremost raiding targets.  They continued to mount expeditions in and against Lithuania.  But the Polish-Lithuanian Kingdom elected to strike back.  They did, with a vengeance, at the Battle of Tannenberg in 1410, in which a massive defeat was inflicted by the Polish-Lithuanian side onto the Knights.  A peace agreement the following year took the territory of Samogitia from the Knights, and more importantly subjected them to the payment of a heavy indemnity (£850,000).  Moreover, the Polish-Lithuanian state continued to mount attacks on the Ordenstaat.

The Knights responded by shifting their effort, at least temporarily, to the legal sphere.  They lodged a complaint with the papacy against Poland-Lithuania, seeking an order barring the two states from mounting further attacks against the Knights, and also requesting a reaffirmation of the Knights’ entitlement to undertake crusading in the region.  Part of the Order’s complaint was an accusation that Poland-Lithuania was employing pagan troops against the Christian knights.  The stage was set for one of the epic legal confrontations of the European Middle Ages.

The scene of the legal duel was the Council of Constance, in Switzerland, convened in 1414.  This gathering became famous for two other reasons, unrelated to our present concern.  One was the resolution of the Great Schism, which had been tearing the Catholic Church apart for a generation.  This was achieved by the sweeping away of all existing rival claims to the papal throne, in favour of a compromise candidate who became Pope Martin V.  The other famous result was the trial and execution of Jan Huss of Bohemia for heresy – despite his having been given a

 

safe-conduct to attend the Council.  But the complaint by the Ordenstaat against Poland-Lithuania was also on the agenda of this busy gathering.

Representing Poland-Lithuania was a distinguished canon lawyer and rector of the Jagiellonian University in Cracow named Paul Vladimiri (Wlodkowic in Polish).  He thereby merits a small footnote as history’s first noteworthy international legal advocate.  The most conspicuous – though not officially authorized – legal champion of the Knights was a Dominican friar named John Falkenberg, who was an inquisitor at Magdeburg.   

The essence of the Knights’ case was that their military activities were officially authorized by the papacy – and also, it was asserted, by the Holy Roman Emperors.  This was expounded by Falkenberg in a Book on the Doctrine of the Power of Pope and Emperor, which accused Vladimiri of heresy.  In the spirit of prevailing medieval just-war doctrine, Falkenberg asserted that the Knights were waging war against infidels “out of love.”  Falkenberg’s advocacy for the Knights was nothing if not energetic.  He denounced the Poles and Lithuanians as “heretics and shameless dogs,” who, by resorting to the nefarious tactic of employing pagans, such as Russians and Tatars, in armed service against Christians, “have returned to the vomit of their infidelity.”

In somewhat more measured terms, Vladimiri responded by contesting the ability of the pope to authorise offensive armed action against pagans on the ground of their religion only.  In this, he invoked the venerable authority of Pope Innocent IV, who, in the mid-13th Century, had ruled that unbelievers could lawfully exercise sovereignty – or, in technical terminology derived from Roman law, that infidels could lawfully exercise dominium.  If they committed wrongful acts against Christians, such as refusing to admit missionaries or committing violations of natural law, then there could be just cause for waging war against them.  But infidelity per se could not be a regarded as a just cause for war, and not even the popes could authorise the taking the lands of peaceful pagans.  Vladimiri went on to accuse the Knights of deceiving the popes into granting permission for their crusading, which was in fact merely a thin disguise for a policy of land-grabbing and rapine.  The true work of bringing pagans into the Christian fold, he asserted, was being carried out peacefully by the Polish-Lithuanian state, not by the Teutonic Order.  Vladimir’s climactic plea was for the outright dissolution of the Teutonic Order.

In the end, Falkenberg’s attacks crossed the bounds of propriety.  When he called for the extermination of King Wladyslaw and the Polish population in general, he was placed under arrest for scurrilous libel.  Advocating tyrannicide was clearly going a step too far.  His reward was to spend some six years in prison in Florence and Rome.

The outcome of the contest was somewhat mixed.  Vladimir’s request for the dissolution of the Order was denied.  At the same time, however, it was decided that the operations of the Knights against Poland-Lithuania should not have the legal status of a crusade.  In practical terms, the effect of this holding was significantly to interfere with the Knights’ ability to recruit fresh volunteer troops to their ranks.  So in material terms, the outcome may be regarded as largely favourable to the Polish-Lithuanian side.

The story of the litigation at Constance is well told, and in greater detail, in Eric Christiansen, The Northern Crusades (2d ed, 1997), which also relates the overall history of northeastern crusading.  It should not be thought that the events of our story have been forgotten.  In the early part of the First World War, when German forces inflicted a devastating defeat onto invading Russian forces in East Prussia, the commanding general, Paul von Hindenburg, christened the battle as “Tannenberg” and hailed it as a revenge for the humiliation suffered five centuries earlier.  Another fruit of the First World War was the resurrection of Poland and Lithuania as independent (though now separate) states.  In 2004, the two countries were reunited – in a manner of speaking – as fellow members of the European Union.

This area of Europe continues to have something of a frontier character – now with the three Baltic republics constituting NATO’s most exposed flank to Russia.  Given the present tensions between Russia and the West, it is not wholly impossible that this region could again become the focus of conflict.  If so, let us hope that, as at the Council of Constance, the clash takes the form of litigation rather than war.

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© 2015 – The International Judicial Academy
with assistance from the American Society of International Law.

Editor: James G. Apple.
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