Diplomats: Do We Need Them?

Is the foreign service passé? In this day and age, when the latest news, even from the most distant lands, is only one mouse click away, when CNN brings us images of the latest humanitarian catastrophe in real time, when people travel quickly and easily to all parts of the world, do governments still need a wide network of embassies, staffed by a professional corps of highly trained diplomats, to tell them what is going on beyond our shores?

Of course they do. From the days of Alexander the Great down to those of Lester Pearson, the tools of diplomacy have changed beyond recognition, but the core of the business, its very essence as an art, has and will remain the same: building relationships. This is why we will always need people overseas, people who can speak the language and understand the culture, people who can develop and maintain a wide network of contacts to defend our interests. Just think: how could we fathom the intricacies of a power struggle in a fragile state without having people on the ground enjoying a close and confidential rapport with local officials? How could we convince foreign students to enroll in our universities, foreign entrepreneurs to invest in our thriving energy sector or avant-garde performers to team up with their Canadian counterparts if we did not have people abroad promoting Canada? For a globalized country such as ours, with its booming foreign trade, its increasingly diverse and mobile population and its extensive peace and security commitments from Haiti to Afghanistan, it is crucial that we be able to rely on an extensive network of well-connected representatives overseas.

Still in doubt? Then have a look at Ambassador Assignments: Canadian Diplomats Reflect on Our Place in the World. Edited by David Chalmer Reece, this collection of essays by former Canadian heads of mission clearly shows how, despite the advent of the internet and turbo jets, the effective promotion and defence of Canadian interests would not be possible without a widely deployed foreign service.

Of all the authors represented in the book, it is perhaps Derek Burney who illustrates this reality most vividly. By the time he arrived as ambassador in Washington in 1989, “direct representation to Congress had become an essential part of the ambassadorial agenda.” This was a task that required careful planning. On Capitol Hill alone, there were hundreds of congressional representatives, supported by thousands of aides, each one pursuing different interests and priorities. To ensure efficient and timely interventions, it was thus necessary that we keep a close eye on the activities of all these legislators. This, in turn, required not only a “highly committed and professional cadre of congressional liaison officers” but also “careful research and careful nurturing of congressional staff.” Unfortunately, this was not the end of the story. Political power in the U.S. capital was, and remains, extremely diffuse and often spreads far beyond Congress, to the administration of course, but also to businesses, think tanks and the media. These institutions too required constant monitoring so that we would be ready at all times to meet with them to “explain, persuade, rebut.”

But did all this talking ever lead to concrete benefits for Canada? It certainly did, and the advocacy campaign on acid rain that our embassy successfully spearheaded in the late 1980s probably ranks as one of the most consequential.

For years, there had been extensive opposition in the United States to a bilateral agreement with Canada to cut emissions of sulphur dioxide and other pollutants. Changing that attitude required constant and patient, albeit at times discreet, advocacy on the part of Canadian diplomats and politicians. In I’ll Be with You in a Minute, Mr. Ambassador, Allan Gotlieb, Burney’s predecessor in Washington, explained how it would have been extremely difficult, if not downright impossible, to reach an agreement with the Reagan administration had the embassy not engaged in this kind of wide-ranging public diplomacy.

There are times, however, when a tense political context can severely limit the nature of our interventions. In a very instructive essay covering his years as ambassador to South Africa in the early 1980s, Edward G. Lee shows how a bit of daring and creativity can go a long way to push the bounds of a tight diplomatic envelope.

In those days, when the apartheid regime was perhaps at its harshest, there were only 19 ambassadors left in Pretoria. All others had been recalled in protest. Canada, led by Joe Clark, who, at the time, was serving as foreign minister, had wisely—if controversially—decided to stay put, rightly assessing that our ability to prod the regime toward greater openness would be significantly reduced if we closed our embassy.

This, however, raised a serious moral dilemma. How could we continue to deal with a racist government without arousing the disgust and distrust of the black population? By criticizing the government publicly? Not possible. The Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations states that we “have a duty not to interfere in the internal affairs” of a state. Just keep quiet then? This does not sound very proactive. But silence too can be a powerful weapon. Well-planned appearances, even if speechless, can often speak volumes, and this is the approach that Lee adopted. Tight-lipped, he often attended the trials of blacks accused of violating racial laws, showing up at the courthouse “in the official vehicle with the Canadian flag flying,” always sitting “in the front row of the public section of the court wearing maple leaf pins.” The black community certainly seems to have appreciated the gesture but more importantly, as Lee reports, judges never failed to notice his presence. Perhaps slightly embarrassed, they invariably took more care in assessing the “guilt” of the accused.

Although seriously constrained in what he could say and do publicly, Lee and his embassy colleagues nonetheless took full advantage of their presence on the ground and “developed close contacts with influential individuals in the black community and demonstrated to the public generally that we were with them in their struggle against the South African government.” Beyond the obvious advantage of allowing our government to get a much more accurate picture of the political and social realities of South Africa, keeping our embassy open also allowed us to channel sorely needed development funds where they were most needed.

Although one of the core responsibilities of our embassies is to ensure that our government remains fully informed, at all times, of international developments and trends, they must also collectively ensure that Canada remains on the radar screen of the world. Pace some of our most colourful patriots, many Canadians would probably be shocked to learn how little even some of our closest allies know about us, or how clichéd their views are. In his essay, Roy McMurtry readily admits that during the years he spent in London as Canada’s high commissioner, he was often surprised to see that “the majority of the leaders of British business and industry actually knew very little about Canada.” If this group of people, which should perhaps have been one of the most au courant, is so unenlightened, just imagine the Herculean task we face in places like India, Brazil or China. Then as now, promoting Canada required constant and relentless face-to-face advocacy. But as commentators have reported elsewhere, doing so is becoming increasingly difficult at a time when tight budgets are forcing us to keep most of our diplomats at home.