The Naked Diplomat

by Tom Fletcher

  Yet politicians set up dividing lines and arguments. They recognise the danger of vanilla communications where everyone says the same thing. I spent many hours writing speeches with prime ministers. Gordon Brown would hold long conference calls with key advisers to identify the crux of the argument. Emails would fly through the night as he honed in his own mind where the dividing lines lay. David Cameron would ask his speechwriters to identify the argument or constituency that they wanted him to take on. Both sought out the points of contention and divergence. By doing so, politicians are able to make their discourse not just more edgy and interesting, but more relevant. As any married couple will tell you, sometimes you need to have the argument. Diplomacy should not be about avoiding those arguments, just picking the right ones.

  I tried to do this in Lebanon by redefining political divisions. While most think the country is divided on sectarian lines or by political party, I argued that the real dividing line in the twenty-first century was between those with the courage to coexist and those promoting division. The idea was to create ‘are you with me or against me?’ moments, which challenge listeners to engage, and to define themselves. A bit of controversy can often be the grit in the oyster.

  The best campaigners also stimulate interest through creating moments of jeopardy. So in the run up to the G8 Gleneagles Summit of 2005, the public was encouraged to set tests for the leaders and to engage with them to press for delivery. At the G20 financial summit in London in 2009, the communications plan deliberately set out a sense that the world was at ‘a minute to midnight’, on the verge of a historic deal or failure. Crunch moments are more likely to get the attention of those who can put meaningful pressure on their leaders.

  But this strategy carries risks if it is not authentic. There is only so often that the public can be told that a conference on agriculture or a trade mission to Uzbekistan is ‘make or break’. Sometimes you need what Bono calls ‘unusual coalitions’ to deliver change. In developing the ‘Make Poverty History’ campaign, he pounded the corridors of Congress and the Senate, promoting the case for tackling inequality to the religious right. The shock value mobilised groups who would otherwise be neutral or acquiescent.

  As part of such campaigns, authentic symbols can be more powerful than any politician. By celebrating Malala, whom the Taliban tried but failed to kill, campaigners did far more to promote women’s rights than any leader could have done. We need to create heroes, not just victims.

  I wanted to do this in Lebanon as part of our effort to counter inequality, in particular the mistreatment of migrant workers. So I swapped places for a day with an Ethiopian housekeeper, Kalkedan Nigusie. She joined me for a call to the interior minister and a press conference. I spent time cooking and cleaning. The photos went viral in Lebanon, allowing us to use the platform to raise awareness about new guidelines on treatment of foreign workers. But the key was that Kalkedan was front and centre. She could speak far more powerfully than me about the nature of the challenge. We put a face to the campaign and triggered dinner-table debates across the country.

  Diplomats have huge convening power, which makes them well placed to galvanise campaigns but then step back and let others carry the message more effectively. An example was our work towards a ‘One Lebanon’ concert. At a moment of real vulnerability in Lebanon, as old divisions re-emerged due to the Syrian crisis, we put together a coalition of celebrities and activists to perform together for the first time, on a theme of youth ‘United for Tomorrow’. Several divas, pin-ups, boy bands and comedians took the stage to reject sectarianism and divisive politics. Sunnis from the most violent part of Tripoli rapped about coexistence with Allawite neighbours. The largest cheer of the evening was for a hybrid of ‘Ave Maria’ and the Muslim call to prayer, sung by Sunni, Shia and Christian choirs.

  This was broadcast live on prime-time Saturday night TV. Thousands of ‘One Lebanon’ wristbands were sold. Over a hundred youth activism organisations took part on the night, and the event was staffed by volunteers from throughout Lebanon. Our social media highlighted the contrast between the concert and failure of Lebanese politicians to agree a Cabinet; the resilience/talent on show; and the message sent to those taking Lebanon back towards violence and division, not least through a car bomb in Hermel that same day.

  The concert tapped into a particularly Lebanese stream of sentimentality, schmaltz and national pride. A combination of Last Night of the Proms, Les Misérables and Live Aid would not work everywhere or be to everyone’s taste. Lebanese divas make Lebanese politicians seem straightforward. But the egos landed, and the messages on diversity, tolerance and unity were much more powerful coming from them.

  Another example of the way that campaigners and diplomats can interact was the 2010 Cluster Munitions Convention. In No. 10 at the time, we spent as much time discussing tactics with relevant NGOs as we did with other governments. The team built a strategy around public pressure, aggressive lobbying by embassies, and carefully timed interventions. We exposed campaigners outside the negotiations, our main allies, to the nitty-gritty of debates inside the room, so that they could focus their interventions and lobbying of other countries.

  Perhaps the best recent example of this more modern campaigning diplomacy was the 2014 conference on Preventing Sexual Violence in Conflict, hosted by British Foreign Secretary William Hague alongside Angelina Jolie. This was open to the public, and modelled at Hague’s suggestion on the interactive aspects of a political party conference. It worked because there was a compelling campaign message, it engaged a much wider selection of the public than the average summit, and it had practical objectives. It was, as Hague’s special adviser Arminka Helic explained to me, ‘built from the ground up, starting out small, making sure each intervention had substance and purpose’. Plus a sprinkling of Jolie’s stardust.

  It is possible to imagine a future conference, say on climate change, where a world leader will be tweeting from inside the meeting in a way that builds pressure on his counterparts from their own public, all amplified by the more trusted voices, the Malalas and the Bonos, outside the room. This will break a few taboos, and ruffle some diplomatic feathers, but it is inevitable. Leaders will compete to get their interpretation of events across in real time. Fluid, interactive and exciting diplomacy.

  The ability to ride waves is also increasingly important to authentic communication in the Digital Age. This requires flexibility. Campaigns were traditionally like super tankers – heading inexorably in one direction. Now they are more like sailing boats, needing to change tack when the wind changes, retaining the ability to be supple and agile. Good communication requires the courage to leave the campaign half planned for when the Internet suddenly throws up an issue that challenges preconceptions and assumptions. The most striking examples in international affairs have been the Kony campaign against child abduction by the Lord’s Resistance Army in Uganda, the way that footage during the Arab Spring spread dissent from capital to capital like a fireball, and the shift in Western public attitudes to refugees as a result of a photo of the Syrian three-year-old boy Aylan Kurdi washed up on a Turkish beach. In all three cases, policymakers, commentators and campaigners were caught off guard by the surge in public engagement. They were running to catch up.

  In each of those three examples, visuals were also important. There aren’t many films about diplomats (Lawrence of Arabia being a notable exception), but mass communication is increasingly shaped by pictures – look at the way ISIL make horror films. The YouTube video of my farewell walk through Lebanon got over a hundred times the attention of the more formal goodbyes. Diplomats will never win any Oscars, but they need to understand how film and pictures, like other art, can drive change. And that the smartphone makes everyone a film-maker.

  So the visuals matter. Does the backdrop match the message? Don’t stand in front of a beach when talking about a crisis. Don’t stand in front of a clapped-out car when talking about investment opportunities. When I had so
mething a bit edgy to say, I wore a more conservative suit. If I was wearing a bright tie, it normally meant that I had a particularly underwhelming speech to offer. My team learnt to find an excuse to slip out quietly when I put on my snappiest neckwear.

  Those representing the people have to get better at communicating with them. This requires them to entertain and engage, create genuine emotional connections, and take risks. It will draw from the best examples of the use of new technology by charities, businesses and politicians. It will rely on a better knowledge of the data underpinning people’s decisions, and offer citizens a more personal, interactive experience.

  The old division of labour, where politicians tended to be the face of a policy, with diplomats and officials writing them their lines, is breaking down. Good. Time differences and communication speeds take away the luxury of the carefully crafted press release.

  While the proportion of time those in politics and public life spend on communicating will increase, it will be vital to ensure that the spin does not replace the substance. Any serious diplomatic effort should generate stories and angles that interest the media and public. But this must be the tip of the iceberg, underpinned by detailed work. The policy has to drive the announcement, not the other way round. We no longer have the luxury of allowing a gap between hyperbole and reality.

  For most foreign ministries, all this fluidity is a shock to the system. Message control is over. As Hillary Clinton’s former innovation adviser Alec Ross says, the twenty-first century is a terrible time to be a control freak. There will be moments of panic, especially after the first ambassador is fired over a Twitter slip. The answer will be further upstream, to recruit, train and then trust the right people to deliver the message in the right way. The slippage of control will be uncomfortable, but it is inevitable. Stanley McChrystal, one of the most successful US generals of the twenty-first century, recognises that ‘information is only of value if you can get it to people who can do something with it. Sharing is power.’7 Like everyone else, diplomats will need to embrace their inner anarchist.

  Diplomacy has always been about helping our countries compete. To do that most effectively, diplomats must connect relentlessly.

  We should be excited, energised and inspired by the pace of technological change around us. But let’s not throw the diplomatic baby out with the digital bathwater. And nowhere is this ability to connect more important than in that most ancient aspect of statecraft – the ability to make peace.

  11

  Selling Ladders for Other People to Climb Down

  It is never wise to gain by battle what may be gained through bloodless negotiations.

  Attila the Hun

  Since Ug, the ability to negotiate and make peace has been the most important weapon in the diplomatic armoury. It is an art, not a science.

  Nations and peoples will still need diplomats to mediate the tricky issues that divide them, and to help them avoid conflict. While the 2015 Iran nuclear deal, for example, was accelerated by digital interaction, it would not have happened without immensely difficult negotiations, mainly in private. Most agreements come down to a small group of people in a dark room, late at night, thrashing out the detail and taking risks with their own political constituencies. (Negotiations are not just over war and peace – my toughest were with the French government over the arrangements for the seventieth anniversary of D-Day in Normandy.*) Much of this vital work will still be done in secret, though this will be increasingly challenging.

  Throughout history, power has depended on the ability to negotiate the peace, not just win the war. So how do diplomatic negotiations succeed or fail?

  My great-grandfather was a strict Orangeman, a Protestant minister in Belfast who was infuriated at what he saw as the loss of Protestant jobs to Catholics after the Great War. My great-uncle was the chief constable of the Royal Ulster Constabulary, one of the toughest and most thankless tasks in policing, then as now. I married a Catholic from the Republican south of Ireland, whose ancestors had fought on the other side of the conflict. I later worked as the Northern Ireland adviser to two prime ministers. I was with Gordon Brown through weeks of painstaking, exhausting and often infuriating negotiations between Republicans and Unionists, who united only when they saw a collective opportunity to get one over on the UK government. And I was with David Cameron as he put together his extraordinary, and very personal, response to the Saville Inquiry’s report on Bloody Sunday.1

  Diplomacy has transformed, and is transforming, Northern Ireland. The ongoing peace process also reminds us of many of the essentials of diplomatic negotiation.2

  Firstly, decent peacemakers need to know their interests.

  This sounds obvious, but it is striking how often diplomats arrive at negotiations without a clear sense of the outcome they want. Sometimes they come with unrealistic negotiating positions, or none at all. Often they are unable to rank their demands or expectations. Many of the best negotiators I have seen talk of a negotiating box that captures their upper- and lower-end expectations. They see their role as identifying which parts of that box overlap with their interlocutor’s box. The sweet spot.

  For the toughest peacemaking, you have to identify both a common vision and the leaders who have the courage to work towards it. In Northern Ireland, public opinion shifted gradually towards a rejection of violence. As Tony Blair has explained, this was a journey not an event. I think the Lebanese, since the civil war, have made a similar journey, which is one reason why Lebanon has held together, defying logic and those who have sought division for narrow political or sectarian gain.

  When this vision exists, those who try to use terror to break it will find life harder. The Omagh bombings, the most deadly terrorist attack in Northern Ireland, took place after the Good Friday Agreement. They shook confidence in the process, but did not break it, because people knew there was something bigger at stake than a vicious cycle of revenge and retribution. Recent terrorist attacks in Lebanon, including the assassination of my friend Mohamad Chatah, have had the same effect. They have forced competing players to ally against a common threat, and appalled the silent majority. Sometimes, though, the assassin or terrorist wins. The killer of the Israeli prime minister Yitzhak Rabin in 1995 buried the peace process with Palestine for two decades and counting.

  A decent negotiator also needs to know their opponents. Part of the diplomatic art is to identify solutions that are based on mutual interest. So we now try to arm the prime minister at European Councils not just with a sense of what his opponents will be fighting for, but why it matters to them. Most leaders turn up at summits armed with the latest polls on their colleagues – it helps to know who is feeling more confident or crestfallen. Attila the Hun, whom I would dearly love to see negotiating at a European Council, told his followers to never trust negotiation to luck. Knowing what your enemy wants makes you stronger.

  One reason for the failure of the 2009 Copenhagen climate change summit – a miserable event which scarred a generation of negotiators – was that while we had done enormous amounts of preparation on the views of China, India and other emerging countries, we made the mistake of assuming that they negotiated like us. We anticipated that a greater part of their initial position consisted of elements that could more easily be given up (‘negotiating fat’) than was actually the case. We thought that they would want a deal as much as we did. That’s how we had all got used to negotiating in Europe. As a result, we ended up with the unedifying spectacle of several Western leaders sat around the table late at night with junior Chinese and Indian officials, desperately making concessions to interlocutors who had no mandate to negotiate. I remember several European leaders being adamant that they would not accept a deal hammered out without them, but struck by President Obama and the leaders of Brazil, Russia, India and China (the ‘BRICs’). We did.

  I’ve been evangelical about how digital technology can help us exercise power in new ways. But any decent negotiator should also know when
to turn off their smartphone. This is partly for security – most modern embassies will no longer allow guests to bring in their portable telephones. Sometimes it is because etiquette still matters. When British Cabinet minister Clare Short was attending the Queen in the Privy Council, her mobile phone went off loudly in her handbag. While she fumbled for it, the Queen reportedly paused before asking, ‘Someone important?’

  But the main reason for periods without the smartphone is that no one can conduct a negotiation with the world watching and commenting on every twist and turn. The 2015 Iran deal was a case in point, with negotiations mainly taking place behind closed doors, and with rare updates for the media. This helped insulate participants from public pressure from hardliners in Iran, Israel and the US. Sometimes we simply have to turn off the devices, shut out the noise and lock ourselves in a room with the protagonists.

  Contrary to the argument that confidential diplomacy is becoming harder, we are seeing a steady increase in informal negotiations done privately through academics, activists or retired officials. This approach can identify more creative ways of resolving or preventing conflict, or build confidence in periods when direct talks would not be possible. It is harder to control, but many of the most important peace processes have begun in this way.

  Creative and audacious diplomacy also means talking to people you wouldn’t want to invite into your home. The best diplomatic negotiators have also always known when to go dark – to act in secret, and to talk to the bad guys. Too often, engagement with opponents is wrongly presented by its critics as some kind of reward for them. Sometimes, when the moment is right, we should instead take Nelson’s advice: ‘Never mind manoeuvres, go straight at ’em.’

  The Northern Irish peace process took immense courage from those involved. It showed that you have to be prepared to sit down with your enemy. I remember many such excruciating and painful late night meetings with Unionists and Republicans. They demanded great political risks, and uncomfortable compromises. It took time for bitter rivals to see the common humanity in those they had fought. We had to avoid unrealistic expectations or conditions – if the British government had demanded disarmament of the IRA before talks could start, we would still be at war with them today. The process took creativity, patience and thick skins.