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The Handbook of European Defence Policies and Armed Forces Hugo Meijer Full Chapter
The Handbook of European Defence Policies and Armed Forces Hugo Meijer Full Chapter
Title Pages
Hugo Meijer, Marco Wyss
(p.i) The Handbook of European Defence Policies and Armed Forces (p.ii)
(p.iv)
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Title Pages
ISBN 978–0–19–879050–1
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Dedication
Dedication
Hugo Meijer, Marco Wyss
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Foreword: National Defence at a Time of Doubt
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Foreword: National Defence at a Time of Doubt
So it is entirely possible that historians will look back to our times and wonder
what the fuss was all about. To be sure there is a general sense of foreboding,
but it does not focus on a particular scenario. The reasons why a great power
makes little sense and will probably be avoided remain as compelling as they
have been since 1945. The international economy has regained its equilibrium
after the 2008 financial crisis and for the moment energy supplies seem
plentiful. Climate change remains a worry, although its implications for security
remain unclear. There are major geopolitical changes underway, notably China’s
rise to superpower status, and this has caused tensions, but these have thus far
been managed, and Europeans tend to think that this is largely an issue for the
Asia–Pacific region and not their own.
Yet the sense that big changes are underway that will have a major impact on
our security is hard to avoid. It is often described in terms of an unravelling of
the liberal international order that was established in the years after 1945 and
has by and large served (p.viii) the international community well. The concerns
that an era is about to end focuses on the quality of American leadership, but
also on whether values are sufficiently shared and interests recognized to be in
common for the West to stick together through whatever crises may be coming.
This may not yet be a time of great transformations, but it is a time of doubts, of
not quite knowing how the institutions and systems that have developed over
many decades, and thus far adapted well to new circumstances, will cope with
their next severe test.
One reason for doubt is that the two countries that have long been to the fore in
setting the Western security agenda have been losing their interest in this role
for some time. This is more than a Brexit or Trump phenomenon. The United
Kingdom and then the United States both developed their global positions (and
in the UK case an empire) as a result of their naval mastery. This enabled them
to exercise influence around the globe and act whenever their interests were
threatened and also to encourage international trade in a way that helped them
grow prosperous. The British Empire has been long consigned to history and the
United Kingdom can no longer really consider itself a global power with a
distinctive set of international interests that might need protecting by force. Yet
it has not been left in a particularly exposed position. For decades British
leaders worried about Dean Acheson’s 1962 jibe that their country had lost an
empire without finding a role, assuming that Acheson deserved an answer and
that there was a special role that only the United Kingdom could perform. One
regular favourite was as a bridge between North America and Europe, though
this, as with such claims, could not withstand much scrutiny. Only in its close
ties with the United States, especially in the nuclear and intelligence fields, did
the United Kingdom offer something different from other European nations.
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Foreword: National Defence at a Time of Doubt
What has been ducked was the possibility that there was no unique role and that
this might not matter. The advantage of being an island on the western edge of
Europe is that it takes less to guarantee national security than if it were placed
closer to the likely trouble spots in the former Soviet space, the Balkans, or the
Mediterranean. This is not to say that it is ready to opt out, although the Brexit
vote was an indication that it might be. British leaders still assert a sense of
responsibility, not least because of the United Kingdom’s role as a Permanent
Member of the United Nations (UN) Security Council, and it will not explicitly
embrace passivity. But, when new issues arise, it no longer seems to be anxious
to take a forward position.
One reason for this is that for a whole range of reasons, from the long ties of
history and culture and a similar geopolitical outlook, the United Kingdom feels
most comfortable when acting together with the United States. If the United
States was active, then the United Kingdom was also likely to be engaged. But,
by the same token, if the United States concluded that it wished to accept fewer
of the burdens of international leadership, then so might the United Kingdom.
The British example is not the normal one cited when one is thinking about the
consequences should America ease back on its leadership role. Japan and South
Korea, Saudi Arabia, and Israel would have more pressing reasons to be
concerned. In Europe those closer to the trouble spots would have more reason
to reassess their security policies. But this illustrates the importance of
American leadership in pulling others along.
The United States accepted in the 1950s a set of alliance obligations and other
treaty commitments that gives it an unparalleled position in international affairs.
This went against the isolationism and neutralist instincts of the interwar years.
Where disengagement (p.ix) prior to 1939 did not prevent major war,
engagement after 1945 has helped prevent a Third World War. But
disengagement has always had its attractions and a constituency in the United
States, not least because it removed the country from territorial risk. For
whatever reasons, President Trump picked an old isolationist slogan in ‘America
First’ for his inaugural address in January 2017. But the issue has been around
for some time. Until the attacks of 9/11 it was more tentative in dealing with
crises that did not touch directly on its alliance responsibilities. As a result of the
draining counterinsurgency operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, the United
States now appears fatigued by its international responsibilities and is looking to
reduce its liabilities. This was the case even under President Obama. Trump has
given mixed signals on this as on so much else, as his inclination has been to
appear belligerent on any issue in which the United States is being tested, while
at the same time talking openly about being ready to abandon established US
positions on free trade and alliance obligations. Even though he does not always
actually follow through, the net effect has been to aggravate that ever-present
element of doubt about whether the United States will honour its alliance
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Foreword: National Defence at a Time of Doubt
One reason for anxiety is that Russia has taken a belligerent turn. This was
evident in the war with Georgia in 2008 and the much more severe confrontation
with Ukraine that has been underway since 2014. During the 1990s Moscow
began to feel it was being taken for granted. The problems faced in securing
distinctive Russian interests through institutional mechanisms left Moscow
isolated diplomatically. The promotion of Western concepts of the good life and
good government were seen as a neocolonialist effort to create a global system
that suits Western purposes and denies alternative cultures. President Putin’s
dislike of the ‘colour revolutions’ in other former Soviet republics leads to his
fear that one will be triggered in Russia. This was one—defensive—reason for
the attack on Ukraine, a punishment for a popular swing away from closer ties
with Russia to the European Union (EU). But the annexation of Crimea,
aggression in eastern Ukraine, and the menacing of countries such as Estonia
have served to isolate Russia further. The conflict with Ukraine has not changed
in character (although it remains violent) since the autumn of 2014, and Russia
has not taken military moves against others. Its room for manoeuvre has been
limited by a weak economy, because of sanctions and the fall of commodity
prices, and a more demanding intervention in Syria. It invested in Donald Trump
during the 2016 election campaign, but its interference may have backfired, as
the evidence of Russian interference has ended up with Trump’s hands being
tied and deeper sanctions in place.
Yet the evidence that Trump would have liked to work more closely with Putin
has unnerved Europeans. He has also created another source of doubt. During
his short tenure in the White House he has shown extraordinary levels of
incompetence and disregard for the normal conventions of public life. While
many agreed with Trump’s pressure on his NATO allies to spend more on
defence, the idea that the shortfall was in some way owed to the United States
provided more evidence of ignorance of how the alliance works. This has been
mystifying and alarming for those who have traditionally looked to the United
States for political leadership. All this has been more corrosive than
transformational, weakening the position of the United States without displacing
it. Such behaviour encourages hedging, with allies thinking about alternative
arrangements without rushing to put them in place in the hope that they might
not be necessary.
(p.x) More serious is his challenge to a collection of core principles that have
helped hold together the West. Whether or not his challenges to free trade
amount to much, his evident dislike for the underlying principle has chipped
away at one of the conceptual foundations of the post-1945 international order.
Pulling out of the Paris accords on climate change, his distaste for social
liberalism, his readiness to dismiss statements he does not like as ‘fake news’,
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Foreword: National Defence at a Time of Doubt
and his refusal to make human rights a prominent feature of foreign policy
distance his administration from the European establishment. They legitimize
attitudes that are certainly current in Europe, and in this way help undermine
the consensus that facilitates cooperation across the Atlantic and within Europe.
This is not to argue that these principles are beyond challenge, or that they have
suffered by being part of an elite outlook that can come over as being
complacent and indifferent to the views and circumstances of ordinary people.
Yet, where it gets a hold of a government, it can lead to a creeping
authoritarianism—even in allies such as Turkey, Poland, and Hungary.
One hedge for Europeans against the loss of American leadership is to build up
the EU’s Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP). It was long a Gaullist
aspiration to exclude the ‘Anglo-Saxons’ from European affairs, and the idea that
the EU could look after its own defences appealed to those who believed that it
could never really be complete until it could take on all the functions of a state,
including war-making. When the cold war came to an end, and it was unclear in
both Washington and Brussels whether the United States needed to play much of
a future role in regional affairs, then the Europeans looked to play a more
assertive role in sorting out local crises. The first test came in the summer of
1991 in Yugoslavia. European ministers proclaimed this as Europe’s hour—a
time to demonstrate its crisis-management capabilities. Its palpable failure, with
the issue effectively handed over to the UN and NATO, diminished rather than
enhanced the EU’s reputation. This encouraged the view that it was preferable
to have the Americans involved, but there had to be some provisions made just
in case they did decide to disengage. This was the origin of the CSDP, which was
launched with great fanfare by President Chirac of France and Prime Minister
Blair of Britain at Saint-Malo in 1998. It soon got bogged down in institutional
wrangles—over how the CSDP should relate to NATO and what functions could
be usefully duplicated. In the event, CSDP has tended to concentrate on
important tasks, such as peacekeeping missions or dealing with piracy and
refugee issues, where there has been no need for an American input, but not on
the big security issues, such as deterrence and coping with conflicts like Ukraine
(although on the economic sanctions side the EU already plays a leading role).
As the United Kingdom has always been opposed to the more ambitious
proposals for a European defence force, its impending departure from the EU
has appeared to open up the possibility of the issue being revived.
The problems that have always hampered the replacement of NATO with the EU
remain. First, most do not want to signal to the United States that it could
manage without them lest they persuade Washington that it was safe for it to go.
Only the United States can provide nuclear deterrence and the military weight
to cope with a developing conflict. Does France expect to take over the job of
extended deterrence from the United States? Second, doing more is expensive.
There have long been complaints from the United States that European
countries have not spent enough on defence and that their military capabilities
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Foreword: National Defence at a Time of Doubt
are in poor repair. Third, the rhetoric tends to get muddled, so that any
cooperation, including on weapons procurement or joint units organized
bilaterally or trilaterally, or the sort of modest missions currently undertaken
under the CSDP heading, are presented as (p.xi) moves towards an integrated
European entity. Fourth, even with greater integration, the ability to deploy
forces would still be limited by the particular interests of individual countries,
especially in relation to major crises outside Europe. How many countries would
wish to join France, for example, in one of its overseas operations? There is no
evidence that Germans are keen to act on behalf of other European countries,
such as the Baltic states, if attacked by Russia. In principle, of course, Europe
should have the resources to deter Russia, which has a GDP equivalent to Spain
and well below that of Germany, France and the United Kingdom, but that will
require major investment.
This is the context against which national defence policies are currently being
formulated. It is one in which it is hard to make a case for a ‘peace dividend’, but
nor is there an emergency (other than perhaps for the non-NATO countries
bordering Russia, and Russia itself). Governments are thinking more about
defence policies but without yet striking out in new directions. It is the lack of
confidence about where this might all lead that justifies a careful look at where
countries currently stand in terms of their national defence policies. It is very
difficult to see what options there might be for the future, how well they might
cope with the distinctive challenges, whether from Russia or North Africa and
the Middle East, and the extent to which the context actually shapes the policies.
As the contributions to this excellent volume show, national governments still
respond to national needs in their defence-planning and procurement, shaped by
their countries’ histories, cultures, and circumstances. They have done so
through the decades of alliance and latterly the CSDP, and will continue to do so
in the future. Great geopolitical movements create the dangers of conflict, and
so they deserve our attention, but there are also changes going on all the time in
national capabilities, and they also deserve our attention. With the publication of
this volume there will be no excuse not to be informed about what is going on at
the national level and the implications for the management of future crises and
conflicts.
Page 6 of 6
List of Figures
8.1 The frequency of foreign policy topics in NSC press briefings, 1991–
2002 161
8.2 The frequency of foreign policy topics in NSC press briefings, 2003–
2011 162
8.3 The frequency of foreign policy topics in NSC press briefings, 2012–
2017 163
8.4 Military expenditure of Turkey, 1991–2016 172
8.5 Military expenditure by country, 1991–2016 173
12.1 Defence spending by Belarus, 1997–2015 242
15.1 Military spending by NATO members, 1993–2015 287
15.2 Composition of defence spending, Czech Republic, Hungary, and
Slovakia, 1999–2014 288
15.3 Participation in international operations, Czechoslovakia/Czech
Republic, Hungary, and Slovakia, 1990–2015 291
21.1 NATO European defence spending in 2016: meeting the 2% of GDP
target 385
24.1 Top-level governance of UK–French defence cooperation 431
25.1 Number of German and French operations by frame, 1990–2015 454
26.1 Aggregate European military expenditures, 1989–2015 472
39.1 Alternative weapons acquisition strategies 679
39.2 The hierarchical structure of defence industries in the value chain
683
39.3 Government measures to protect national defence industries from
international competition 684
40.1 European collaboration activities, 1961–1995 697
40.2 Project participations per group, 1961–1995 697
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List of Figures
(p.xviii)
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List of Tables
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List of Tables
(p.xx)
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Notes on Contributors
1. Editors
Dr Hugo Meijer
is Marie Skłodowska-Curie Fellow at the European University
Institute (EUI), Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies, and
the Academic Director of the European Initiative on Security Studies
(EISS). Previously, he was Lecturer in Defence Studies at King’s
College London (2013–16) and a Researcher at the Institute for
Strategic Research (IRSEM, Paris, 2016–17). He received his Ph.D. in
International Relations from Sciences Po in 2013 (summa cum laude)
and currently works on Western defence and security policies in the
Asia–Pacific. Recent publications: La Politique étrangère: Approches
disciplinaires [Foreign Policy: Disciplinary Approaches], co-edited
with Christian Lequesne (Montreal University Press, 2018); Trading
with the Enemy: The Making of US Export Control Policy toward the
People’s Republic of China (Oxford University Press, 2016); Origins
and Evolution of the US Rebalance toward Asia: Diplomatic, Military,
and Economic Dimensions (ed.) (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015). He has
also published in such journals as the Journal of Strategic Studies,
European Journal of International Security, and the Journal of Cold
War Studies.
Dr Marco Wyss
is Lecturer in the International History of the Cold War at Lancaster
University, a Research Fellow at the University of the Free State, an
Associate Fellow at the Institute of Commonwealth Studies, and a
Fellow of the Royal Historical Society. Previously, he was a Senior
Lecturer in Politics and Contemporary History at the University of
Chichester, and a Senior Researcher at the Center for Security
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Andrew M. Dorman
is Professor of International Security at King’s College London and
the Commissioning Editor of International Affairs, the journal of the
Royal Institute of International Affairs, Chatham House. At King’s he
leads the new Centre for British Defence and Security Studies. He
has published widely on aspects of British defence and security policy,
European security, and defence transformation. His research focuses
on the interaction of policy and strategy, utilizing the case studies of
British defence and security policy and European security. He has
held grants with the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC),
British Academy, Leverhulme Trust, Ministry of Defence, and US
Army War College. He trained as a Chartered Accountant with KPMG,
qualifying in 1990 before returning to academia. He has previously
taught at the University of Birmingham, where he completed his
Master’s and doctoral degrees, and the Royal Naval College
Greenwich.
Frédérick Douzet
is Professor at the French Institute of Geopolitics of the University of
Paris 8, and Castex Chair of Cyber Strategy (Institut des hautes
études de défense nationale, IHEDN/Airbus Group). She is a member
of the editorial boards of the reviews Hérodote and Sécurité et
Stratégies, and received several awards for her research: FIC Book
Prize for strategic thinking (2015); France-Berkeley Fund Award for
Outstanding Young Scholar (2014); Alphonse Milne Edwards book
prize from the Society of Geography (2008); Ernest Lemonon book
prize from the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences (2008); and
Best Paper Award from the Urban Affairs Association (2009). She was
nominated junior member of the Institut Universitaire de France in
2006. Her publications include: Les Conflits dans le monde (Armand
Colin, 2011), Géographie des conflits (La Documentation française,
2012), 50 fiches pour comprendre la géopolitique (Bréal, 2010), and
Dictionnaire des banlieues (Larousse, 2009). Since 2012, she has
published four books (two co-edited), twelve book chapters, and over
fifteen peer-reviewed articles and conference contributions, and
given dozens of talks to various audiences. Her current research
interests deal with the geopolitics of cyberspace. She was appointed
director of the Castex Chair of Cyber Strategy in February 2013.
Robert Egnell
is Professor of Military Sociology and Head of the Department for
Security, Strategy, and Leadership at the Swedish Defence University.
Professor Egnell received his Ph.D. (2008) in War Studies from King’s
College, London. He has previously been a Visiting Professor and
Director of teaching in the Security Studies Program at Georgetown
University, a Senior Researcher at the Swedish Defence Research
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Dr Andrew Futter
is a Senior Lecturer in International Politics at the University of
Leicester, United Kingdom. His work focuses on contemporary
nuclear weapons issues, including ballistic missile defence,
proliferation, the changing nature of deterrence, and new challenges
to the utility and perception of nuclear forces. He has published two
books, Ballistic Missile Defence and US National Security Policy
(Routledge, 2013) and The Politics of Nuclear Weapons (Sage, 2015),
and written widely for numerous peer-reviewed and professional
publications. He is currently working on an ESRC-funded Future
Research Leaders project, looking at how cyber weapons and the
advent of a new information age are challenging, transforming, and
impacting on the role, efficacy, and thinking that underpin nuclear
weapons and strategy.
Dr Bastian Giegerich
is the Director of Defence and Military Analysis at the International
Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS) in London. Having been affiliated
with the IISS since 2005, he worked for the German Ministry of
Defence and the German armed forces between 2010 and 2015 in
various research and policy roles. Dr Giegerich holds a Ph.D. in
International Relations from the London School of Economics and
Political Science, and an MA in Political Science from the University
of Potsdam, Germany.
Dr Andrea Gilli
is an International Security Program postdoctoral fellow at the Belfer
Center for Science and International Affairs, John F. Kennedy School
of Government, Harvard University, and was a post-doctoral fellow at
both the Center for Security Studies, Metropolitan University Prague
and at the Center for International Security and Cooperation,
Stanford University, when his chapter was written. Andrea works on
technological change, military innovations, and international security.
He holds a Ph.D. in Social and (p.xxvi) Political Science from the
European University Institute (EUI) in Florence. In 2015 he was
awarded the European Defence Agency and Egmont Institute’s bi-
annual prize for the best dissertation on European defence, security,
and strategy. Andrea has provided consulting services to both private
and public organizations, including the EU Military Committee and
the US Department of Defence’s Office of Net Assessment, and he has
worked and conducted research for, or been associated with, several
institutions, including the NATO Defense College, the Royal United
Services Institute, the European Union Institute for Security Studies,
the Saltzman Institute for War and Peace Studies at Columbia
University in New York, and the Center for International Security and
Cooperation at Stanford University. Andrea is a 2015 alumnus of the
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Introduction
Introduction
Beyond CSDP: The Resurgence of National Armed Forces in Europe
Hugo Meijer
Marco Wyss
DOI:10.1093/oso/9780198790501.003.0001
Keywords: national armed forces, Europe, defence, transformation, common security and defence
policy
IN summer 2016, the European Union (EU) released A Global Strategy for its
Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP). Under the heading ‘Security and
Defence’, it calls on Europeans to ‘take greater responsibility for our security.
We must be ready and able to deter, respond to, and protect ourselves against
external threats’.1 This is probably the boldest among a number of the strategy’s
ambitions. Even though some leading European foreign and security policy
Page 1 of 40
Introduction
pundits have tried to portray the document as a good starting point to make the
CFSP more effective,2 its weaknesses and unrealistic call for ‘strategic
autonomy’ have attracted sharp criticism.3 Despite the EU’s foreign and security
policy achievements, notably within the framework of the European Security and
Defence Policy (ESDP)/Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP), strategic
autonomy remains a distant ideal. Not only has European defence integration
been limited and even stalled since the early 2010s, but, as will be shown, there
has also been a related trend towards the renationalization of security and
defence in Europe. It is increasingly evident that the era of enthusiasm for
European security and defence following the Franco-British Saint-Malo
Declaration of 19984 and, especially, the first and preceding EU security strategy
—A Secure (p.2) Europe in a Better World—of 2003,5 has ebbed away.6
Moreover, the European project itself has come under increasing pressure, and
the United Kingdom, one of Europe’s major military powers, is in the process of
leaving the union.7 Whereas the new strategy acknowledges some of these
difficulties, it is not binding for EU member states, nor does it set out the ways
and means to achieve strategic autonomy. This is, to say the least, not
particularly strategic.8
What A Global Strategy does well, however, is to identify the threats and
challenges Europe faces, notably those emanating from an increasingly assertive
and militarily resurgent Russia.9 After more than two decades since the end of
the cold war, the successor state to the Soviet Union has thus ‘regained’ its
place as the focal point for European defence. Yet, ever since the Pleven Plan10
was put forward in the early stages of the cold war, a European defence
community has failed to materialize.11 The European powers are, as a
consequence, somehow reminiscent of Renaissance Italy, where rich yet
militarily relatively weak city states and kingdoms such as Florence, Milan, and
Naples did not join forces, and their disunity ultimately allowed France and the
Holy Roman Empire to project their power into the Italian peninsula.12 To push
the analogy further might risk the trap of anachronism, but most European
states have preferred to rely on a US-backed North Atlantic Treaty Organization
(NATO) to protect their national interests and face the perceived threat of the
Soviet Union in the cold war and now Russia. The importance of the Atlantic
Alliance, and implicitly the failure of European defence integration, is also
acknowledged by the new EU strategy.13
In the light of the still limited defence integration, the editors of The Handbook
of European Defence Policies and Armed Forces contend that, when it comes to
European security and defence, analytical precedence should be refocused on
Europe’s national defence policies and armed forces for two main
interconnected reasons. The first one is historical. Since the end of the cold war,
defence and security policy in Europe has (p.3) witnessed two concurrent
trends towards European integration and national transformation. On the one
hand, European defence integration through the ESDP/CSDP (hereafter CSDP)
Page 2 of 40
Introduction
has undergone a pattern of emergence, rise, and gridlock during the 1990s,
2000s, and 2010s respectively. Despite significant institutional development,
almost three decades after the fall of the Berlin Wall the political and military
reach of CSDP remains quite limited and hampered by diverging national
interests.14 Moreover, since the early 2010s Europe has witnessed a trend
towards a renewed focus on territorial defence and the related national defence
capabilities.15 On the other hand, Europe’s national defence policies and armed
forces have experienced significant qualitative, quantitative, and organizational
transformation in response to a shifting threat environment that includes a
resurgent Russia, transnational terrorism, cyber-security challenges, the
proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (WMD), civil wars, and
neighbouring failing states, among others. Accordingly, the combination of the
rise and decline of the CSDP, on the one hand, and of persistent national defence
transformation throughout the post-cold war, on the other, calls for a renewed
attention to national security and defence policy as the analytical starting point
in the study of European defence and security.
The second reason pertains to the extant literature on European defence. In this
twin movement of European defence integration and national transformation,
the literature has overwhelmingly privileged the CSDP at the expense of the
cross-European comparative study of national defence policies and armed
forces. In fact, a major imbalance—if not an inverse correlation—exists between,
on the one hand, the relative depth and breadth of historical change in European
defence integration versus national defence policies and, on the other, the extent
to which they have been respectively covered in the literature. Despite the
limited scope of the CSDP and the persistence in the process of national defence
transformation since the end of the cold war, the literature on European defence
has been dominated by a focus on the CSDP and by a neglect of the comparative
study of national defence policies and armed forces in Europe.
Given the imbalance between the historical record and the focus of the extant
literature, the first ambition of The Handbook is, at the conceptual level, to
refocus the attention on, and to give analytical precedence to, national defence
policy and armed forces in Europe. Re-emphasizing the crucial importance of
cross-European comparisons of national defence policies and armed forces does
not equate to abandoning the study of the CSDP and of the trans-European
integrative patterns in the field of defence and security. Reinvigorating the
national level as a key unit of analysis, and in a comparative approach, is in fact
a condition sine qua non for investigating defence cooperation in its multiple
configurations (bilateral, minilateral, multilateral) and levels (intergovernmental
and trans-/supranational), but without losing track of the foundational dimension
of the national level. While taking (p.4) into account the role of the CSDP in
European defence and security, The Handbook shows how the CSDP fits—and its
relatively limited role—within the complex patchwork of national defence
policies and of bilateral and mini-/multilateral arrangements that compose
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Introduction
Page 4 of 40
Introduction
Thereafter began the second stage and ‘golden age’ of European defence
integration. The EU institutionalized the ESDP, strengthened its military
capabilities, promoted interoperability, and integrated defence procurement,
agreed on its first European Security Strategy (ESS),21 and launched a number
of ambitious peace-support and crisis-management (p.6) operations. The
European Defence Agency (EDA) was also created in 2004 to enhance capacity
development and intra-European armaments cooperation. By the mid-2000s, the
enthusiasm for such developments led some analysts to go so far as to stress
that Europe would become the next superpower and challenge American
primacy in world politics.22 This process culminated in the rebranding of the
ESDP as the CSDP through the Lisbon Treaty of 2007, which entered into force
in 2009 and aimed to streamline the hydra-like structure that had emerged over
the years.23 The Military Committee (EUMC) and the Military Staff (EUMS) were
integrated in the newly born European External Action Service (EEAS).24 But,
despite the improved organizational functioning of the CSDP, a third stage,
marked by disillusionment, has since set in.
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Introduction
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Introduction
After the withdrawal of the Red Army from Central and Eastern Europe
following the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the disintegration of the Warsaw Pact
and the Soviet Union, Western Europe was left without a major conventional
military threat.35 Moreover, the decline of Russia seemed to continue unabated
for the remainder of the 1990s.36 The ‘unipolar moment’, with the United States
as the sole remaining superpower, seemed confirmed.37 Meanwhile, the US-
backed NATO umbrella was continuously expanded eastwards, ahead of the
future expansion of the EU.38 This set the stage for the first transformation
phase of European armed forces, which lasted until the turn of the century.
Initially, the European powers cashed in the so-called peace dividend, and
reduced their military personnel and equipment without fundamental strategic,
doctrinal, or material reorientations. The lessons of the 1991 Gulf War, which
was a showcase for US military power and the ongoing Revolution in Military
Affairs (RMA), the subsequent Balkan Wars, and the emergence of transnational
threats stimulated a military transformation process in most European
countries.39 This led to a strategic and doctrinal shift away from territorial (p.9)
defence to humanitarian and peace-support operations, further troop
reductions, professionalization, the abolition of conscription (in most cases),
increased operability, and standardization of doctrine.40
These developments overlapped with a second phase, which began with the
military interventions in Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003, and continued
with the resulting counterinsurgency (COIN) operations in both countries. This
first completed the shift towards expeditionary warfare,41 and then led to what
has been called a ‘new counterinsurgency era’.42 As a result, the countries
participating in the two invasions and/or the counterinsurgency campaigns in
Afghanistan and Iraq not only rediscovered and developed past
counterinsurgency doctrines,43 but also continued the transformation of their
armed forces to enable them to fight alongside allies abroad. This accelerated
the process of what Anthony King has called ‘concentration’ and
‘transnationalization’ to create smaller yet more capable and internationally
connected armed forces.44 In an increasingly generalized trend, European
armed forces were reorganized into a modular and thus more flexible structure,
further reduced in size and professionalized, and re-equipped with new weapons
platforms and communication equipment in the aim to improve their reaction
time, force projection capability, operational sustainability, interoperability, and
effectiveness. Yet this transformation process was impeded by persistent budget
pressures on Europe’s armed forces and marked by inconsistency because of
different security outlooks, political priorities, and strategic cultures in Europe.
This led to what has been called a ‘transformation gap’, not only between the
United States and its European allies, but also within Europe.45 Moreover, the
enthusiasm for expeditionary warfare and COIN was not shared across the
entire continent, and some non-allied or neutral countries, for instance, focused
instead on domestic tasks as a substitute for territorial defence.46
Page 7 of 40
Introduction
Meanwhile, the pendulum has swung back with a third and ongoing
transformation phase. This most recent phase, which overlapped with the
second, set in train a double crisis that emerged towards the end of the 2000s.
On the one hand, the lengthy campaign and lack of progress in Afghanistan led
to disillusionment with COIN, and a desire to avoid (p.10) having to fight an
insurgency on the ground in the future.47 On the other hand, the global financial
crisis was followed by cuts to already overstretched defence budgets.48 As a
result, not only did the European appetite for expeditionary warfare dramatically
decline, but also the capabilities and capacities of Europe’s armed forces were
further reduced.49 This ‘strategic retreat’ did not last for long, and was
transformed into a ‘strategic reorientation’ as soon as the European economy
was on its way to recovery and the continent seemed to be confronted with new
threats and challenges. Simultaneous to a widespread disillusionment with the
EU and a resurgence of the nation state,50 many European powers have
increasingly seen themselves challenged by a militarily resurgent and assertive
Russia—especially in the wake of the Ukrainian crisis and the annexation of
Crimea51—together with an Islamist terrorist threat on their national
territories,52 and cyber-security challenges.53 Even though defence spending as
a percentage of GDP remains historically low and often well below NATO’s 2 per
cent target, this increasingly tense European security environment has led to
higher defence budgets after decades of cuts.54 Yet more importantly, and as the
chapters of The Handbook show, Europe’s armed forces have ‘rediscovered’ their
traditional territorial defence role and become increasingly involved in what is
called ‘homeland security’ in the United States. The threat not only of terrorism,
but also of conventional war—as announced in the mid-2000s by Colin Gray—is
again real.55 This overall trend towards the renationalization of national armed
forces, with a return to territorial defence—mostly in the context of NATO—has
contributed to further de-emphasizing the relative importance of CSDP in
European defence and security.
In sum, given the rise and decline in European defence integration and the
persistence in the process of national defence transformation since the fall of the
Berlin Wall, the historical evolution of, and recent trends in, European defence
and security thus call for a renewed attention to national defence policies and
armed forces.
Page 8 of 40
Introduction
Despite its very limited military output, the CSDP has been the focus of a
burgeoning body of scholarly literature.56 This seemingly paradoxical
phenomenon resulted not only from the enthusiasm for European defence
integration in the wake of the rise of the CSDP, but also from the concomitant
decline of defence- and military-focused strategic studies at the expense of
security studies, following the broadening of the concept of security and the
focus on its non-military dimensions,57 and the consolidation of European studies
as an academic subdiscipline58—which jointly contributed to the neglect of the
study of national defence policy and armed forces in Europe. Without attempting
to provide an exhaustive review, which goes beyond the scope of this
Introduction, we can identify five clusters of enquiry in the literature on the
CSDP. First, a large body of works seeks to explain the drivers of the rise and
evolution of the CSDP by applying theoretical approaches from political science
and international relations. This puts forward competing explanatory factors
derived from realism,59 (p.12) constructivism,60 or neo-institutionalism,61
among others.62 A second strand in the literature analyses the decision-making
processes and the institutional arrangements of the CSDP. This body of research
aims to assess whether Europe’s institutional architecture in the field of defence
and security is intergovernmental or supranational, or consists of a multilevel
security governance.63 A third cluster focuses on the aggregation of military
capabilities under the CSDP, on intra-European arms cooperation, and on the
persistence of the so-called capabilities–expectations gap.64 Focusing on the
demand side, these works examine the institutional framework that has emerged
over time to develop joint European defence capabilities, including the
Organisation Conjointe de Coopération en (p.13) Matière d’Armement
(OCCAR) or the EDA.65 The external operations, both civilian and military,
undertaken by the EU under the CSDP banner constitute a fourth major
research area. These works examine the drivers and effectiveness of the range
of operations conducted by the EU in south-eastern Europe, Africa, the Middle
East, and Asia since the early 2000s.66 Finally, the literature delves into the
contentious relationship between NATO and the CSDP in the provision of
security on the continent. It analyses issues such as the potential development of
Europe’s ‘strategic autonomy’ vis-à-vis NATO, the transatlantic burden-sharing
and capability gap, or the question of geographical/functional division of labour
—and more broadly the patterns of cooperation and competition—between the
two organizations.67 While scholars disagree on the extent to which the EU has
fully emerged as an actor in military affairs on the world stage,68 these five
different clusters of literature all share a tendency to focus on a trans-/
supranational level of analysis.
Page 9 of 40
Introduction
In other words, by predominantly focusing on the CSDP, the extant literature has
neglected a fundamental analytical dimension—namely, the systematic
comparison of national defence policies and armed forces across Europe in the
post-cold war era. The editors of The Handbook therefore argue for the need to
move beyond a ‘CSDP-centric’ perspective and to re-emphasize the cross-
European comparative study of national defence policies and armed forces. A
truly cross-European comparison of the evolution of national defence policy and
armed forces remains a glaring blindspot. The Handbook of European Defence
Policies and Armed Forces aims to fill this gap.
A woman ... [says Martin Hume] whose saintly devotion to her Faith blinded her
eyes to human things, and whose anxiety to please the God of Mercy made her
merciless to those she thought His enemies.
The reign of Ferdinand and Isabel [says Mariéjol] may be summarized in a few
words. They had enjoyed great power and they had employed it to the utmost
advantage both for themselves and the Spanish nation. Royal authority had been in
their hands an instrument of prosperity. Influence abroad,—peace at home,—these
were the first fruits of the absolute monarchy.
A. Contemporary.
Bernaldez (Andrés) (Curate of Los Palacios), Historia de Los
Reyes.
Carvajal (Galindez), Anales Breves.
Castillo (Enriquez del), Crónica del Rey Enrique IV.
Martyr (Peter), Opus Epistolarum.
Pulgar (Hernando de), Crónica de Los Reyes Católicos.
—— Claros Varones.
Siculo (Lucio Marineo), Sumario de la ... Vida ... de Los
Católicos Reyes.
Zurita, Anales de Aragon, vols. v. and vi.
B. Later Authorities.
Altamira, Historia de España, vol. ii.
Bergenroth, Calendar of State Papers, vol. i.
Butler Clarke, “The Catholic Kings,” (Cambridge Modern
History, vol. i.).
—— Spanish Literature.
Clemencin, Elogio de La Reina Isabel.
Flores, Reinas Católicas.
Hume (Martin), Queens of Old Spain.
Irving (Washington), Conquest of Granada.
—— Life of Christopher Columbus.
Lafuente, Historia de España, vols. vi. and vii.
Lea, History of the Inquisition in Spain. 4 v.
Mariéjol, L’Espagne sous Ferdinand et Isabelle.
Prescott, History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella.
Sabatini (Rafael), Torquemada and the Spanish Inquisition.
Thacher (John Boyd), Christopher Columbus. 3 v.
Ticknor, History of Spanish Literature, v. i.
Young (Filson), Life of Christopher Columbus. 2 v.
Some Additional Authorities Consulted.
Volumes xiv., xxxix., lxxxviii., and others of the Documentos
Inéditos.
Volume lxii. and others of the Boletin de La Real Academia.
Amador de los Rios, Historia de Madrid.
Armstrong (E.), Introduction to Spain, Her Greatness and
Decay, by Martin Hume.
Berwick and Alba, Correspondencia de Fuensalida.
Colmenares, Historia de Segovia.
Diary of Roger Machado.
Fitzmaurice-Kelly, History of Spanish Literature.
Mariéjol, Pierre Martyr d’Anghera: Sa vie et ses œuvres.
Memoirs of Philip de Commines.
INDEX
A
Abraham “El Gerbi,” 211, 213
Aguilar, Alonso de, 177, 180, 182, 281–3
Ajarquia, 176, 181
Alcabala, 384, 394, 395
Alcalá de Henares, University of, 402
Alexander VI. (Rodrigo Borgia), 85, 236, 239, 248, 261, 306, 353,
354, 360, 363
Alfonso V. of Aragon, 24, 25, 35, 115–119, 350
Alfonso of Castile, brother of Isabel, 22, 35, 46, 52, 56, 60, 64, 65
Alfonso II. of Naples, 350, 353, 354, 356
Alfonso V. of Portugal, 52, 70, 96, et seq.; 107, et seq.
Alfonso, son of John II. of Portugal, 223, 337
Alfonso, Archbishop of Saragossa, 244, 330
Alhama, 165, 170
Aliator, 176, 181, 182
Aljubarrota, Battle of, 30
Almeria, 161, 204, 216, 220, 280
Alpujarras, The, 278, 280
Alvaro, Don, of Portugal, 212
Amadis de Gaula, 414
Anne of Beaujeu, 340
Anne of Brittany, 340
Aranda, Council of, 239
Aranda, Pedro de, 261
Architecture, Castilian, 419–420
Arras, Cardinal of, 73, 81
Arthur, Prince of Wales, 373, 374
Atella, capitulation of, 362
“Audiences” in Seville, 136
Auto-de-Fe, 256
Ayora, Gonsalvo de, 192
Azaator, Zegri, 274
B
Baeza, 216, 217, 219, 220, 223, 280
Bahamas, discovery of, 304
Barbosa, Arias, 406
Barcelona, 38, 39, 40, 50, 75, 305, 328, 352
Bernaldez, Andres, Curate of Los Palacios, 168, 263, 412
Berri, Charles, Duke of (later of Guienne), 72, 81, 83
Biscay, Province of, 100, 101, 112, 117
Blanche of Navarre, 26
Blanche, dau. of John II. of Aragon, 27, 28, 43, 44
Boabdil, 172, 181, et seq.; 198, 203, et seq.; 208, 221–223, 227, et seq.
Bobadilla, Beatriz de (Marchioness of Moya), 62, 74, 84, 85, 212, 213,
298
Bobadilla, Francisco de, 314
Borgia, Cæsar, 364. (See also Alexander VI.)
Burgos, 54, 55, 60, 103, 106;
Bishop of, 72, 74
C
Cabrera, Andres de (later Marquis of Moya), 83, 86, 112, 114, 298
Cadiz, Marquis of, 136, 139, 140, 165 et seq.; 175, 177, 180, 183, 200,
201, 209, 212, 216
Cancionero General, 410
Carcel de Amor, 415
Cardenas, Alonso de, 153, 176;
Gutierre de, 88, 217, 229
Carrillo, Archbishop, 58, 59, 60, 63, 64, 68, 76, 78, 79, 80, 85, 89,
90, 94, 96, 100, 105, 108, 109, 111, 232, 239, 240
Castillo, Enriquez del, 87, 411
Catherine of Aragon, 334, 372, 374
Celestina, 416
Charles of Austria, son of Archduke Philip, 378, 384, 390, 396, 408
Charles, The Bold, 116, 117
Charles VIII. of France, 186, 340, 347, 348, 351, et seq.; 363
Charles of Viana, 26, 36, et seq.
Church, Castilian, 13, et seq.; 104, 231, et seq.; 249, 250
Cid Haya, 216, 220, 223
Cifuentes, Count of, 177, 180
Cisneros, Ximenes de, 242, et seq.; 273, et seq.; 402, 403
Claude, dau. of Louis XII., 378
Columbus, Bartholomew, 289, 315
Columbus, Christopher, early life, 286;
nautical theories, 291;
appears at Spanish Court, 295;
character, 294, 298, 300, 302, 314;
appearance, 295;
prepares to leave Spain, 299;
first voyage, 303, 305;
reception at Barcelona, 305;
second voyage, 307;
views on slavery, 310;
third voyage, 314;
arrest, 315;
fourth voyage, 316;
devotion to Queen Isabel, 298, 313, 317;
death, 317
Columbus, Diego, 294, 299, 317
Commines, Philip de, 48
Conversos, The, 251, 252, 253
Coplas de Manrique, 408
Coplas de Mingo Revulgo, 417
Cordova, Gonsalvo de, 189, 206, 280, 361, 367, 371
Cortes, the Castilian, 18
Cota, Rodrigo, 417
Cueva, Beltran de La (Count of Ledesma, Duke of Alburquerque), 32,
33, 45, 48, 51, 52, 54, 57, 62, 64, 89, 151
D
D’Aubigny, Stuart, 361
Davila, Juan Arias, 261
De Puebla, 374
Diaz, Bartholomew, 289
E
Edict of Grace, 255
Egypt, Sultan of, 219, 278
Eleanor, dau. of John II. of Aragon, 43, 44, 359
Emmanuel of Portugal, 273, 338, 343, 372
Enriquez, Fadrique, Admiral of Castile, 36, 58, 59, 60, 74
Enzina, Juan del, 417, 418
Escalas, Conde de, 205, 206, 207
Española, 305, 309, 313, 314, 316
Estella, 49, 51
Estepar, El Feri Ben, 281, 282
F
Fadrique (the younger), 155
Federigo of Naples, 355, 364, 370
Ferdinand of Aragon (The Catholic) character, 2, 69, 174, 210, 324,
325, 330, 332, 370, 371, 387, 391;
appearance, 89;
diplomacy, 346, 352, 358, 359, 364, 372, 375;
birth, 26;
becomes heir to throne of Aragon, 40;
alliance with Isabel, 35, 69, 77, et seq.;
meeting with Isabel, 208;
reconciliation with Henry IV., 86;
becomes King of Aragon, 118;
attempted assassination of, 328;
military measures, 102, 103, 166, et seq.; 112, 168, 175, 191, 196,
201, 216, 219, 280, 379;
attitude to Jews, 264, 265, 271;
to Mudejares, 283;
to the Inquisition, 249, 255, 258;
to Roman See, 235, 239, 254;
to his children, 335;
to Columbus, 296, 297, 313;
foreign policy of, 335;
receives submission of Boabdil, 229;
second marriage, 388;
regent of Castile, 390;
estimate of his work, 422
Ferdinand, son of Archduke Philip, 379
Ferrante I. of Naples, 36, 349, 350, 353, 356
Ferrante II., 354, 356, 361, 364, 369
Fez, King of, 221, 229
Florence, 349, 350, 353
Foix, Catherine de, 339
Foix, Gaston de, 43, 75
Foix, Gaston de (the younger), 43
Foix, Germaine de, 388, 390
Fonseca, Alonso de, 30, 240
Fornovo, battle of, 361
Francis Phœbus of Navarre, 111, 339
Fuenterrabia, meeting of, 48
G
Galicia, settlement of, 133
Galindo, Beatriz de, 332, 407
Genoa, 25
Geraldino, Alessandro, 299, 333
Giron, Pedro, Master of Calatrava, 36, 60, 62, 63
Granada, City of, 215, 224, 227, et seq.;
Kingdom of, 160, 188;
partition Treaty of, 365, 366
Guadix, 173, 206, 216, 220, 221, 223, 224, 280
Guejar, 280
Guiomar, Doña, 31, 233
Guipuzcoa, 100, 106, 112, 117
Guzman, Ramir Nuñez de, 155, 156
H
Hamet, “El Zegri,” 199, 200, 201, 202, 206, 210, 211, 213, 214
Haro, Count of, 101, 129
Henry IV. of Castile (Prince of Asturias), 23, 27, 28;
(King), 24, 36, 39, 44, 54, 55, 56, 70, 71, 80, et seq.; 158, 160, 253
Henry VII. of England, 373
Henry, “The Navigator,” of Portugal, 289
I
Inquisition in Castile, 249, 253–261
Isabel of Castile, character, 1, 4, 5, 131, 233, 319, 324, 327, 328, 336;
love of her Faith, 325;
attitude to her confessors, 241, 242, 243, 326, 327, 329;
love of learning, 332, 333, 400 et seq.;
devotion to Ferdinand, 329;
her magnificence, 321, 323, 399;
her justice, 130, 135, 136, et seq.; 155;
birth, 22;
childhood, 34, 46, 52, 67;
suggested alliances, 35, 39, 53, 62, 68, 70, 72, 73;
marriage with Ferdinand, 69, 74, 76, 77, et seq.;
joins her brother Alfonso, 65;
reconciliation with Henry IV., 84, 85, 86;
accession, 88, 91, 92;
appeals to Archbishop Carrillo, 100;
celebrates battle of Toro, 109;
quells riot in Segovia, 112, et seq.;
visits Seville, 115, 136;
disputes with Ferdinand, 186;
legislation and reforms of, 147, 150, 153, 392, et seq.;
military measures of, 106, 168, 187, et seq.; 192, 194, et seq.; 218;
visits camps, 207, 211, 226;
entry into Granada, 230;
attitude to the Castilian Church, 234, 235, 236, 247, 248;
to the Inquisition, 249, 254, 255, 258;
to the Jews, 264, 265, 271;
to the Mudejares, 273, 279, 280, 284;
to the Roman See, 235–239, 254;
to Columbus, 285, 295, 297, 298, 303, 315;
to slavery, 312–313;
to her children, 331, 334, 377, 380, 381;
her will, 383;
her death, 384;
survey of her reign, 421.
Isabel, mother of Isabel of Castile, 33, 34
Isabel, dau. of Isabel of Castile, 82, 207, 223, 337, 338, 343, 344, 345
Isabella, the city, 313
Ismail, Sultan, 162
J
James IV. of Scotland, 374, 375
Jews, 6, 250, 252, 263, et seq.
Joanna, “La Beltraneja,” 45, 46, 81–83, 93, 94, 99, 119, 120, 336
Joanna of Portugal, wife of Henry IV., 30, 31, 32, 33, 44, 45, 52
Joanna of Aragon, dau. of Isabel of Castile, 334, 341, 342, 375, et
seq.; 390
Joanna (Queen of Aragon), 26, 27, 40, 41, 42, 75
John II. of Aragon, 24, 25, 26, 28, 36, 40, 101, 364
John II. of Castile, 22, 23, 27
John II. of Portugal, 107, 108, 118, 289, 292, 307, 338
John, son of Ferdinand and Isabel, 115, 216, 223, 331, 332, 339, 344
L
Lebrija, Antonio de, 406
Lerin, Count of, 280
Lisbon, Treaty of, 118, 336
Literature, Castilian, 407, et seq.
Loja, 175, 176, 201, 205
Lopera, battle of, 200
Louis XI. of France, 42, 43, 47, et seq.; 81, 100, 106, 110, 115, 116, 117,
118, 186, 339, 346, 347
Louis XII. of France (Duke of Orleans), 355, 357;
(King), 363, 365, 388, 389
Lucena, 181
Ludovico, “Il Moro,” 348, et seq.; 364
M
Machado, Roger, 321, 323, 373
Madeleine, sister of Louis XI., 43, 339
Madrigal, Cortes of, 124
Malaga, 173, 204, 208, 209, et seq.
Margaret of Austria, 340–344
Maria, dau. of Ferdinand and Isabel, 338, 372
Marineo, Lucio, 405
Marriage-settlement of Ferdinand and Isabel, 79
Martyr, Peter, 195, 219, 385, 404–405
Mary of Burgundy, 83, 117
Maximilian, King of the Romans, 340, 358
Medina-Celi, Duke of, 295
Medina del Campo, Concord of, 56, 253;
Junta of, 57
Medina-Sidonia, Duke of, 136, 140, 168, 189, 190
Mendoza, family of, 52, 76, 82, 84, 89;
Diego Hurtado de, 246;
Pedro Gonsalez de (Bishop of Calahorra), 62;
(Bishop of Siguenza), 67;
(Cardinal of Spain), 84, 89, 90, 108, 150, 154, 187, 229, 232, 233,
234, 240, 243, 244, 255, 299, 404
Merlo, Diego de, 165, 169
Miguel, grandson of Ferdinand, 345
Military Orders, 10, et seq., 152, 154
Moclin, 207