Jiggity jig...

This used to be my metro stop.

Home!

After a harrowing flight -- complete with turbulence, airsick seatmates and a last-minute aborted attempt to descend into Dulles -- I'm back in the States and just about over my jet lag.

I had a lovely time in the Czech Republic, as I always do, and from a totally nerdy standpoint, I enjoyed getting some foreign perspectives on international politics from my friends.

This wasn't my first trip to Europe. I did a semester abroad in 2002, and lived there from 2003-2005 -- a period in which U.S. foreign policy wasn't enjoying raging popularity. And at the time, I found myself responding a little defensively when people started to criticize the States, which they did frequently.

I, too, was unhappy with the war. I had attended protests and signed petitions against U.S. engagement in Iraq, so I could sympathize with other people's criticisms. But I frequently found myself getting frustrated when people judged the U.S. solely on its policies, without stopping to consider the land, the people, the culture -- all the things I love about the country.

I wasn't one of those people who sewed a maple leaf on her backpack, but I found myself going back and forth in my attempt to defend and explain the United States to other people, which I was frequently asked to do.

Old Town Hall

This time I returned with a degree in public diplomacy and a new perspective on U.S. policy and diplomacy, but I still found myself torn between my desire to defend my nation and my personal dissatisfaction with specific actions and policies.

One evening when I was out with friends, the conversation turned to the U.S. culture and its tendency to refuse to accept failure as an option. The table acknowledge that this had two results.

First, Americans refuse to quit until they've solved a problem. This is something people love about them. Second, Americans refuse to compromise. This is something people hate about them. Americans like to believe that all problems have a solution -- and there are more than a few Americans who believe that the U.S. is uniquely equipped to solve global problems.

It made me think of American exceptionalism (in its current understanding, not the original, with its anti-communist connotations), which is difficult to explain when you're the only American at the table and you're surrounded by people from democratic nations where the literacy, child mortality or employment rates are better.

Jan and the Hussites

And it made me think how much American exceptionalism would benefit by embracing compromise as a desirable diplomatic tool -- not as a sign of executive weakness.

Mostly it made me think how nice it would be to have a foreign policy based on the serenity prayer: policymakers with the serenity to accept the things they cannot change, the courage to change the things they can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Strike-Out

I'm living about nine blocks from the stadium of Oaxaca's triple-A team, the Guerreros. This weekend, my classmates and I decided to catch a game there. As an academic tourist studying the intersection of tourism and cross-cultural interaction, there was something very meta about being American tourists at a Mexican stadium watching a baseball game. And it got significantly more meta when our group switched from spectators to spectacles.

You can read two detailed, and less academic accounts, of the fiasco here or here, but the quick version is this: Our group was approached by one of the team's cheerleaders, requesting eight of us to participate in a mysterious activity. The stadium was fairly empty, and if we weren't the only gringos in the stadium, we were definitely the most conspicuous, so the fact that we'd be singled out for potential humiliation was on all of our minds, but most of us took a life-is-for-living attitude and joined her in the dugout.

It turned out to be a typical ballpark game--put your forehead on a bat, spin until your dizzy, then try to run in a straight line. It was silly and embarassing, and at least one of us keeled over, but it was all in good fun.

Then we had to walk back to our seats, past the majority of the stadium. While many of the spectators whistled or hollered supportive comments, a few of us heard cries of "Arizona! Arizona!" There actually are a few people from Arizona in our program, and I was initially impressed by the crowd's ability to determine our states of origins, until more savvy students pointed out that they were probably expressing their disapproval of Arizona's new legislature, which I've blogged about before.

This was slightly disconcerting, as there's not a person in our program who approves of the law. But as American citizens abroad, we are representatives of the nation, and that means we represent its policies--even the ones we don't approve of. It was another reminder that foreign policy is an incredibly influential part of public diplomacy.

The sight of six dizzy students in jeans and tee-shirts lurching across a field doesn't exactly reinforce the imagery of a hemispheric hegemon imposing its policies and attitudes on its neighbors, but for some members of the crowd, our physical appearance was enough to mark us as Americans, and our nationality was enough to inspire disapproval.

Obviously some US (and state) policies are going to be unpopular abroad. You can't please everybody all the time. But I think this situation makes a good case for the inclusion of PD professionals in policy formation.

I'm tough enough to take a little cat-calling, but it occurred to me that in a different setting, under different circumstances, US policies could inspire more than a few whistles and jeers. The purpose of public diplomacy isn't simply to promote US foreign policy abroad, but to inspire goodwill towards the nation and its inhabitants. As an American abroad in a friendly state, I'd recommend holding off on the "Mission Accomplished" banner for this task.

The Best Laid Plans

A recent article in Slate discusses the impact of political unrest on Thailand's sex industry. The Washington Post has a piece on how the flotilla debacle has updated the relationship status of the U.S.-Israeli to "It's complicated." And a Wall Street Journal article on the Hungarian economy uses "Greece" as a synonym for financial meltdown.

All three articles illustrate an important point: A major crisis can quickly eclipse a nation's public diplomacy efforts. I'm using the term "public diplomacy" very loosely here, to cover all attempts at national branding and image building abroad. While Thailand may not benefit politically for its reputation as a haven for fast and loose hedonism, sex tourism is a significant contributor to the national economy, and the ongoing riots have introduced a libido-chilling element of complication and danger to the nation's image. Israel's global reputation has taken a sharp knock since its deadly response to the Turkish flotilla and its international relationships and policies have all been affected. And the Journal is hardly the only publication to use "Greece" as shorthand for fiscal ruin in recent weeks, showing how difficult it can be to shake a bad reputation, once acquired.

Every year, nations invest billions of dollars into public diplomacy efforts in an attempt to curry favor with foreign publics, improve national reputations and facilitate international policy. But even the best efforts can be undermined if the attention of the world's media is diverted by a catastrophe. To some extent, governments can compensate with typical damage control activities, but ultimately it is the actual policies and formal responses that will carry the most weight.

When it comes to crises, actions speak louder than words.

Maybe we should reconsider the Coke-buying strategy...

The pre-Internet era was characterized by borders, international strife and undemocratic politics. And rumors of its death have been greatly exaggerated.

Earlier this month, I posted some preliminary stats suggesting that Internet access does not promote global goodwill toward the United States. Evgeny Morozov elaborates on that theme in Foreign Policy, where he argues that the Internet has done little to usher in an era of peace and global harmony.

Morozov also notes that Twitter has not unseated any dictators: "Tweets don't overthrow governments; people do. And what we've learned so far is that social networking sites can be both helpful and harmful to activists operating from inside authoritarian regimes." Take note, unreserved advocates of social media for international communication.

Nor can the Internet be relied upon to ensure government accountability or improve political participation. The Internet is an extension, not a revolution.

Afghanistan's Empty Playgrounds

U.S. public diplomacy acknowledges the importance of engaging foreign youths--but often that term seems to apply to adolescents and young adults, and not the very young.

For a recent NPR piece, Foreign Policy's Anna Badken visited a rural village in Afghanistan, where the child mortality rate is second only to that of Sierra Leone. At a playground near a refugee settlement stands a large billboard, erected by government contractors reading: "Title of Project: Creating Livelihood Opportunities for Refugees in North Afghanistan. Project Code: 02 AFR. Component: Play Ground and safe Play area ... Donor: Bureau of Population, Refugees and Migration (United States of America)."

The playground is underutilized in this part of the country, where potable water is in short supply and jobs are scarce. Many children in the camp have died before they were old enough to appreciate it--not exactly an anomaly in Afghanistan, where 28 children die every hour.

"What the billboard really says," Badken argues, "is that the international aid that is supposed to help rebuild Afghanistan is tragically failing."

From a strategic standpoint, Afghanistan's weak infrastructure is troubling, as poverty and desperation could easily drive youths to join the Taliban. From a humanitarian standpoint, the problem is even more disturbing.

Foreign aid can be a public diplomacy tool, if it represents an understanding of a population's desires. But programs that confirm the donor's ignorance of the recipients needs are unlikely to generate a flood of goodwill. Resources for aid and public diplomacy are limited, of course, and playing is an essential part of development. But you'd be hard-pressed to find a parent who'd rather give his hungry child a see-saw than a loaf of bread.

It's easy to judge the effects of foreign policy from a desk in D.C., and it's hardly fair to chastise an aid project with such good intentions. Ultimately what's underlying this problem--like the foundation of so many public diplomacy issues--is the need for coordination to make sure that intentions, actions and receptions align.

Mind the God Gap

America has been portrayed as a nation of Bible-thumping teetotalers sandwiched between two coastal slices of godless hedonism, but the truth is obviously much more complex than that. Nonetheless, a new study shows that a spirit of "uncompromising Western secularism" is hampering U.S. foreign policy efforts abroad. David Waters reports on the issue in today's Washington Post:

American foreign policy is handicapped by a narrow, ill-informed and "uncompromising Western secularism" that feeds religious extremism, threatens traditional cultures and fails to encourage religious groups that promote peace and human rights, according to a two-year study by the Chicago Council on Global Affairs... "[The 'God gap' is] a hot topic," said Chris Seiple, president of the Institute for Global Engagement in Arlington County and a Council on Foreign Relations member. "It's the elephant in the room. You're taught not to talk about religion and politics, but the bummer is that it's at the nexus of national security. The truth is the academy has been run by secular fundamentalists for a long time, people who believe religion is not a legitimate component of realpolitik."

In other words, U.S. foreign policy is developed and carried out without adequate attention to the religious cultures that influence the values and actions of many people in the world, for whom customs are often more powerful than laws.

The Chicago report recommends (among other actions) addressing and clarifying the role of religious freedom in U.S. foreign policy. But this is easier said than done. At the heart of the issue are some persistent and complex issues about faith:

• Is faith a private matter, or something to be proclaimed from the mountaintops?
• How does one adhere to one's own faith while respecting the beliefs of others?
• While religious beliefs are likely to unite those of common faith, does it not risk isolating others?
• And what exactly is the role of faith or religion in American politics -- at home and abroad?

There are many in the "render unto Caesar" crowd who might argue that faith is faith and politics politics, and never the twain shall meet. As a fan of the separation of church and faith, I'll confess I feel more than a little reluctance toward using faith as a political tool. But closing the God gap doesn't have to mean manipulating faith for political ends. Past efforts to address the problem (as the article notes) include passing the International Religious Freedom Act in 1998 and increasing outreach to religious groups in other nations--moves that suggest openness, religious tolerance and a "God loves the equitable" spirit.

Meeting this issue head-on doesn't have to be revolutionary. An important first step could simply involve increasing awareness of and sensitivity to various religious beliefs. And as Lao Tzu said, "A journey of 1,000 miles...."

Oh, It Doesn't Show Signs of Stopping ...

You are aware, no doubt, that the blogging multitudes surrounding our nation's capitol have been transformed into a collection of wonksicles by back-to-back blizzardy mayhem, so I'll withhold my personal gripes this week and cast my gaze somewhere hotter, namely Iran.

In a recent Slate article, Jason Rezaian questions the accuracy of "Iran experts" stationed beyond the nation's borders:

There is a growing schism between people battling for change inside Iran and those based outside the country. Individuals and groups operating outside Iran's borders hold little sway with the domestic protesters. A 25-year-old graduate student and office worker in Tehran told me, "I think most of those who have left forget about those of us here very quickly. I can't think of one person speaking on behalf of Iran who I believe is out for anything besides their own gain."

Nevertheless, she expressed a strong belief in the validity of the protest movement. "We exist. We're not sure what we are yet, but we're struggling to find out. And we keep growing in numbers. Ultimately, though, it's up to us who are here. We wish the world would respect that and just encourage us."

Rezaian's article underscores an important truth for foreign policy: An incomplete understanding of a foreign nation's populace is a surefire way to derail any soft power initiative -- but understanding a movement before it understands itself is entirely impossible. For a nation like the United States (among whose virtues, patience rarely tops the list) it is essential that this point be recognized. After all, firm intelligence includes not only what we know, but what we don't know. As the saying goes, it's not what we don't know that gets us into trouble, but what we know for sure that just ain't so.