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MORE THAN FIVE YEARS HAVE PASSED SINCE THAT late November day when I stood in front of a group of students wondering how to answer their questions on WikiLeaks. Some have stayed in touch, sharing the delightful news that they have become new foreign service officers. Each term I meet new students, all equally enthusiastic, anxious to know how to master the selection process. A few are daring enough to contemplate openly what many are secretly wondering: How long will it take to become an ambassador?
The students’ questions are a constant reminder that Americans know too little about the work of foreign service officers. This book attempted to use the officers’ own writing to tell at least some of their stories and demystify their work. Having heard too many people confuse the foreign service with the foreign legion, I found the opportunity to draw on officers’ cables to illustrate the innovative skills with which they practice twenty-first century diplomacy irresistible. While that would be reason enough to write this book, it is not the only reason.
A thoughtful perusal of the cables illustrates almost instantly the many divergences between the impressions of those in the field and the beliefs of policymakers in Washington. Such a revelation is unlikely to surface so starkly ever again, because the usual slow pace of the declassification process shields the data behind the lens of distant decades.
The leaked cables give us the work of today’s diplomats in real time, and it is also the first opportunity to examine the conduct of American foreign policy solely from the perspective of U.S. embassies and consulates. The opportunity to read the cables transports the reader in a way that secondhand accounts never could. One can make much or little of the disconnect, which ranges from perceptual gulfs to minor nuances, but there are points worth underscoring.
The dynamic tension between the field and Washington will inevitably swing toward Washington. Many of the best and most descriptive WikiLeaks cables were enterprise work—the products of instinct rather than a response to any request, speaking perhaps to the age-old desire of travelers to write home. It seems reasonable to assume that as the load for mandated reporting continues to rise, along with support for increasing numbers of embassy visitors, the time an officer might have for writing a leisurely but informative cable will diminish.
If there is an agenda here, it involves three pleas. The first is that the foreign policy establishment include embassy voices in the decision-making process. Officers have more than earned their seat at the policymaking table. Too often they are crowded out by ideology or perceived urgencies. Their writing eloquently testifies to their ability to ask the right questions and bring perspective, reality checks, and seasoned experience. Ignoring them or dismissing them as “the field” has impoverished the policymaking process.
The second plea is that the secretary of state give public diplomacy officers the same professional leadership that is frequently granted to their colleagues in other career tracks—an under secretary who comes from their own ranks. Public diplomacy has produced many capable senior officers who are the intellectual equivalents of some of the more legendary under secretaries—people such as William Burns and Nicholas Burns, who served as under secretaries for Political Affairs, and Patrick Kennedy, who continues to serve as under secretary for Management. The current roster of senior public diplomacy positions in Washington is weighted with too many political appointees—some of them drawn from the partisan ranks of congressional offices. Naming career officers to the top spots would professionalize a division that has succeeded in spite of poor leadership. It would also encourage the movement of experienced public diplomacy officers from the field back to Washington to take part in the policymaking process, a step toward closing the disconnect between the field and home.
The third plea is that the State Department not wait twenty-five to thirty years to declassify the leaked cables. It’s a safe bet that embassy cables will never again surface as they did during the WikiLeaks scandal. It’s an equally safe bet that this won’t be the last time that the U.S. government deals with leaked documents, intercepted conversations, and other waylaid communications. Those charged with protecting confidential data have an unenviable task. But the WikiLeaks cables have now been on a number of Internet sites for five years. As education in political science and international relations increasingly draws its professoriate from the professional ranks—and as students increasingly come from mid-career jobs in government—it seems pointless to argue that the WikiLeaks cables, widely available to the world at large—should be off limits to those carrying security clearances. This unfairly disadvantages those who are the most knowledgeable and have the most to contribute. International relations and related fields are among the most internationalized parts of most campuses, attracting professors and students from many countries, all of whom could easily use the cables in their research. American students and scholars should have the same access.
IT SEEMS REASONABLE to wonder whether cable writing will maintain its relevance in an age of instantaneous communication. Diplomats originally wrote telegrams because they represented the cutting-edge technology of the time. It would be silly to cling to an old technology when there are so many better means available. Just as the digital age has changed the way we read books, it will continue to change the way diplomats report home. Policymakers will turn to other, faster means to get a quick read-out, for example, on what was said after a démarche was delivered.
But gains rarely come without losses. Cable writing is thoughtful and reflective—a cross between reporting and essay writing. One’s understanding and perspective on what just happened in a meeting can change over time. Anger felt upon leaving a foreign ministry might ultimately fade to something closer to understanding. A reaction that seemed explosive in the heat of the moment might, in a larger context, be more forgivable. Cables provide context.
It would be a shame, too, if all the details that make the cables worth reading—what was worn, how many drinks were consumed, the number of hunting trophies on the wall behind the president—are scrapped for the sake of speed. Diplomacy is still an art, as is good writing. The act of thoughtful and reflective writing about diplomacy surely ought to endure.