Comparative history was once considered the Königsweg in historical studies, and the comparative historian was in the vanguard of innovative research. Yet today, comparative history is allegedly “out.” A relic of structural history, comparative history—so the argument goes—has been superseded by cross- or transnational approaches that allow the historian to transcend rather than reinforce national boundaries. Thomas Weber's engagingly written book Our Friend “The Enemy” is a robust defense of the comparative method. His study of university education and the reproduction of elites in Britain and Germany in the period before World War I demonstrates that comparison and transfer are complimentary rather than exclusive concepts.

Supporters of comparative history have stressed that comparison provides a counterbalance to overdetermined historical narratives, and even, in the words of Deborah Cohen, a “counterfactual glimpse that illuminates a path not taken.” Our Friend “The Enemy” outlines such an alternative path. In contrast to familiar accounts of Anglo-German antagonism in the era before World War I, Weber explores moments of understanding and friendship between Britons and Germans in his case study of elite education and university life at Oxford and Heidelberg. Before 1914, many professors and especially students at these two ancient universities were “transnational nationalists” (p. 48) that traversed different cultures and played a key role in building bridges between the two countries. At Oxford, Germans formed by far the largest non-English-speaking foreign student community. Not only there but also back in Germany, they used their influence to foster good relations between the two nations. Likewise, Heidelberg acted as a magnet for British students, although Weber concedes that they did not represent the British elite to the same degree that German Oxonians represented the Wilhelmine elite.

Weber emphasizes not only the connections between Britain and Germany, between Oxford and Heidelberg, but also the commonalities. Methodologically, this is significant since it corrects one central objection against comparative history: that is that comparisons stress national peculiarities and overlook cultural convergences. Weber examines militarism and nationalism, sexuality and gender, anti-Semitism and xenophobia. The emphasis is on social life and public debate in both university towns, but there is surprisingly little discussion of teaching. Weber arrives at the conclusion that Oxford and Heidelberg were far more alike than they were different, thus hitting further nails into the coffins of both the Sonderweg and Whig interpretations of history. He argues, however, that narratives of exceptionalism have seen a certain revival in historical research in recent years. In particular, the “special path” theory has been revived by cultural historians who suggest that German nationalism, gender boundaries, and militarism were more extreme than in other European societies.

Can a case study of two universities yield more general insights into elite identity and Anglo-German relations? The crux is whether Oxford and Heidelberg are actually comparable. Heidelberg was a research-led university, whereas Oxford excelled at the teaching of undergraduates; Oxford was a federation of colleges with resident students and fellows, while the demarcation between learning/teaching and social life was much clearer in Heidelberg; Oxford undergraduates had received their secondary education at independent “public schools,” while Heidelberg students had attended state-funded Gymnasien. What is more, Oxford was one of the two leading universities in Edwardian Britain, while Heidelberg stood in the shadow of Imperial Germany's premier university at Berlin. Like so many studies in comparative history, Weber's book is plagued by the vexed issue of “comparability.” To be sure, he does not blur over these problems, but addresses them in a separate chapter that places Oxford and Heidelberg in their national contexts.

The problem with comparable units becomes apparent in the discussion of militarism and nationalism. Is it legitimate to juxtapose colleges and corporations, rowing and dueling, without jumping to conclusions? While all Oxford students matriculated in a college, corporations at Heidelberg were voluntary organizations. In fact, the majority of students did not join a corporation, and a third of corporations (notably the Catholic ones) did not fence. Weber finds a neat solution by turning our attention to a voluntary association at Oxford, the Oxford University Officers' Training Corps (OUOTC). Established in 1908, it attracted in one year thirty percent of all undergraduates. The OUOTC fits Weber's definition of militarism as the celebration of armed forces “not as means but as an end in itself” (p. 100), since the cadets had no particular enemy in mind and were anything but Germanophobes. Weber concludes that the difference between militarism at Oxford and Heidelberg was one of degree, not kind: “Oxford's militarism was less loud, more gentlemanly, and less fervent in its extremes than its Heidelberg counterpart” (p. 132).

Our Friend “The Enemy” argues against a teleological reduction of pre-1914 history and demonstrates the utility of comparative history. Weber uses the comparative method in order to put into perspective the alleged “illiberalism” of German university life on the one hand and the supposed “progressiveness” of British elite education on the other. This powerful book is an example of a new kind of comparative history—one that is not concerned with “big structures, large processes, and huge comparisons,” but explores nuances in cultural representation and social agency in the past.