Elsewhere, reporting on religion took on a decidedly non-Western feel. In the Kédougou region of southern Senegal, a political officer visited the Bedik village of Ewol where residents have long resisted both Islam and Christianity in favor of a form of animism. The Bedik escaped from Mali in the twelfth century after the king of Guinea tried to convert them to Islam.
According to local legend . . . 18 young men were singled out to be sacrificed to the traditional spirit they worship. However, the devil spirit spared the young men and instead sent a swarm of bees which attacked the invading armies, killed the Guinean king, and spared them from slavery. In the center of Ewol stands a massive baobab tree where the villagers hold their annual sacrifices. The tree is also where, in the past, leading elders were buried and where it is believed that their spirits still reside.30
Animism also plays a role in Laos, along with ancestor worship, and an embassy officer and a visiting State Department officer found that the farther they traveled from the capital, the further they left the concept of religious freedom behind. In the remote province of Oudomxay, their search for the province’s political leaders wound through the multilingual territories of fourteen different ethnic groups. Along the way, they developed an appreciation of the infrastructure and communications challenges the Lao government faces in its northern provinces.
Even in such a faraway region, the officers found evidence that proselytizers had gone before them. They heard villagers complain about tourists distributing Bibles without permission and missionaries coercing ethnic minorities to convert by promising favors. “A con-artist extorted money from poor Buddhists in exchange for promises of salvation after death.” They found Seventh-day Adventists and a Calvinist sect forced to conduct religious services in the forest.
In one village, people were eager to gripe about Christianity. “Village elders complained that often cases of conflict arose when families planned important animal sacrifice ceremonies or funerals, and the Christian family members—often younger members—refused to take part. This was an insult to the family and the ancestors.” 31
In neighboring Thailand, astrology, not animism, influences people in high places. The leadership of the Council for National Security visited the famed Chiang Mai astrologer Varin Buaviratlert to protect against ill fortune and pay respect. The officers wrote that “attraction to mediums and mystics cuts across all segments of Thai society, including Muslims.” The embassy noted the leaders last visited the astrologer in early November to ward off bad luck that might have stemmed from their September 19, 2006, coup.
Belief in astrology and mysticism is well within the mainstream of Thai culture, which blends astrology and a rich mixture of Buddhism, Hinduism, animism, and elements of the occult into everyday life and decision making. However, the devotion to Varin’s wisdom and the cost of flying government leaders up to Chiang Mai in C-130 military planes has raised eyebrows even among normally superstitious Thais.32
In neighboring Burma, the ruling generals favor numerology.
Western rationality is not always apparent in regime decision-making. Than Shwe (a senior general in the junta) reportedly relies on favored soothsayers. We hear one such seer advised moving the capital to the interior because Rangoon would be subject to street disturbances and a horrific storm. Numerology also factors in. Witness the overnight shift to a currency divisible by nines in 1987 and the release of 9,002 prisoners last September, reportedly to ensure an auspicious 2009. Such decision methods may sound strange to us, but they are everyday elements in the lives of many Burmese.33
Sometimes the best insights arrive by way of observation. One diplomat went to Mecca to perform the Hajj, an annual pilgrimage that attracts two to three million Muslim worshippers. He wrote that the Saudis’ efforts to accommodate the pilgrims, including construction of new bridges and a light rail system, along with the easygoing attitude of crowd controllers and compliant pilgrims, suggested a reflective state of mind punctuated by moments of excitement and joy. The officer-pilgrim described how Saudis dealt with an unusual torrential rainstorm and how public health officials anticipated and dealt with the H1N1 (swine flu) virus.
Part of the religious ritual involves wearing white pilgrimage garments known as ihrams and circling seven times around the Ka’aba, the square granite building at the center of Islam’s most sacred mosque, Al-Masjid al-Haram. The officer described the scene:
Pilgrims poured into the mosque at a seemingly endless pace, all jockeying for a position as close to the Ka’aba as physically possible. Accordingly the ground and lower levels remained jam-packed both days with many pilgrims on those levels recounting later that they felt as if the sheer force of the crowd moved them around the Ka’aba, with their feet hardly touching the ground. Pilgrims on the two upper floors benefitted from more space and the picturesque view below of tens of thousands of worshippers clothed in white moving counterclockwise around the Ka’aba like a slow-moving hurricane.
The second day of the Hajj, considered the most important, is known as the day of Arafat, on which pilgrims head towards the Plain of Arafat, near Mount Arafat where the Prophet Muhammad delivered his final sermon. Here worshippers spend the day in tents praying, reading the Qur’an and reflecting on their lives. Towards the end of the afternoon most pilgrims exited their tents and faced in the direction of the Ka’aba to begin offering supplications until sunset. Believing that all prayers on Arafat are answered, pilgrims pray especially earnestly at this point in the Hajj, many weeping and shaking with emotion while directing silent petitions to the Almighty.
The Hajj lasts five days, with most pilgrims spending three of the nights in the tent city of Mina, which the officer likened to a large refugee camp, with thousands of tents arranged next to one another.
Camping areas are divided along nationality lines with delegations from each country occupying groups of adjoining tents. Other tent groupings are reserved for organizations such as the Organization of the Islamic Conference . . . Most tents are fitted simply with rugs for sleeping and a small restroom area (toilets and showers). Higher budget delegations, including royal and ministerial parties, tend to have larger, more luxurious tents equipped with small beds and upgraded restrooms. Poorer pilgrims sleep on the streets in any area they can mark out for themselves.
The officer also described the “stoning the devil” ritual, after which pilgrims change out of their ihram and put on regular clothing, which provides the most striking reminder of the international range of the participants. “As pilgrims made their way to stone the devil at Jamarat on subsequent days, many national delegations traveled in large groups, wearing matching garb and carrying their national flags in a spectacle reminiscent of the parade of nations at the opening ceremony of the Olympics.” 34
This compelling description of an event most Americans never witness firsthand is an invaluable effort to bridge a cultural gap, demystify a significant religious act, and provide detail on how the Saudis manage to deal peacefully with enormous international crowds. As part of the voluminous embassy reporting on religion, it offers participatory observation as another means of gathering information and practicing diplomacy.
WHY POWERLESS PEOPLE SHOULD MATTER
The Department of State should not be confused with the National Geographic Society. It is hard to make the case that people living traditional or rural lives are first-line stakeholders in foreign policy. The cables describe a reality in which people far from capital cities are often marginalized, politically and economically. The writing clearly establishes that tribal cultures are stressed by modernization and generational conflict. Indigenous people are on the front lines of globalization’s downside—environmental degradation, rampant tourism, and migration, all of which have reached the remotest corners of the planet.
But cables also have to answer the “so what?” question. While earlier generations of American diplomats might not have bothered to venture into the backwaters, today’s diplomats do so bec
ause they see it as an imperative, and because they see a clear connection between remote people and places and U.S. foreign policy. They have reconsidered who should be on the all-important embassy contact lists. They will always need to meet counterparts at foreign ministries and parliaments, but they are increasingly finding value in meetings with Turkmen truckers, Iranian rock bands, and tribal elders. The back country of Suriname should not have to wait seven years for the next visit.
Culture matters. The officers reporting on their trips and encounters are gently making the case that “people like us” are not the only agents of influence. Seeing the world through the lens of nineteenth-century nation-states is but one vision. Cables from country after country describe people who identify themselves according to their ethnicity, religion, or geography. They will make common cause with like-minded people in ways that sometimes negate the construct of nation-states. On occasion, the view from the village may matter more than the view from the corridors of power. Ignoring that view will leave the United States at risk.
Chapter 5
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FRENEMIES:
The Faces Behind Diplomacy
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You can either do business with the United States or you can do business with Frank Zappa.
—Secretary of State James Baker
Frank Zappa was one of the gods of the Czech underground. I thought of him as a friend. Whenever I feel like escaping from the world of the Presidency, I think of him.
—Václav Havel, president of the Czech Republic
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BRUSSELS SPARKLES IN THE HOLIDAY SEASON, WITH its Grand Place, the illuminated town hall, and Christmas markets. On December 23, 2009, most people had left their offices for last-minute shopping, but the U.S. ambassador dropped by the European Union building for the humblest of reasons—to present a congratulatory letter from President Obama to Herman Van Rompuy, the first president of the European Council.
He was warmly greeted and invited in for coffee with Van Rompuy and his chief of staff, Frans Van Daele, described as Belgium’s “premier diplomat.” The ambassador, Howard Gutman, might have claimed the same title, having charmed everyone to the point that a 2011 profile in Belgian newspaper Le Soir lauded him as “someone who could make you love the U.S. again.”
The men all knew one another well—Van Rompuy had been Belgium’s prime minister before taking up the new EU post, and through frequent interaction, Gutman had come to think of both men as friends. On that relaxed late December day, the EU building was virtually empty. The three chatted amiably, inquired about holiday plans and families, then turned to substantive matters, such as the recently concluded United Nations Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen. Gutman wrote that Van Rumpuy called it “an incredible disaster,” and was “as animated and frustrated as I have seen him.” He said he had already given up on Mexico City, the venue for the next conference, with Van Daele chiming in colorfully, comparing it to A Nightmare on Elm Street 2. “Who wants to see that horror movie again!” 1
The ambassador wrote apologetically that he merely had meant to deliver the mail, an important clarification in Belgium, where three American ambassadors have to tread carefully to avoid each other’s turf. Gutman served as the U.S. ambassador to Belgium, while his colleagues were the U.S. ambassador to NATO, headquartered a short distance from the capital in Mons, and the U.S. ambassador to the European Union, where the liaison function is valuable to both sides, even though the United States is not a member. The new USEU ambassador, William Kennard, had not yet presented his credentials, a necessary bit of protocol allowing the incoming diplomat to introduce himself as the president’s official representative in the country. Ambassadors seek to do this as soon as possible upon arrival, but sometimes holidays or schedules intervene. Until this formality takes place, ambassadors cannot engage in official actions, even such mundane affairs as the delivery of a letter from the president. Gutman’s instincts to deliver the letter and stay to chat served him well. This is a perfect example of how good contact work in diplomacy gets done.
The importance of carefully building and maintaining relationships is critical to diplomacy. Sometimes it requires nothing more than the gift of time, and sometimes it leads to real trust and genuine friendships. The warmth U.S. officials felt for Van Rompuy comes through in several cables, alongside efforts to explain the importance of the EU.
At the press conference announcing the appointment of Van Rompuy and EU High Representative Catherine Ashton to their new posts, the embassy noted that they were asked the so-called Kissinger question: Which of you will President Obama be calling and which of you will be calling him? This telling question, “Who do I call if I want to call Europe?” was meant in Kissinger’s time to underscore the frustration of dealing with a political entity that lacked a foreign ministry yet exercised the chaotic separate foreign policies of its member states. “Van Rompuy, known for his wit, answered, We are anxiously awaiting the first phone call!” 2
Van Rompuy’s conservative working style won out over the flash of his potential opponent, former British prime minister Tony Blair. The irony of having such a neutral figure at the helm of the unexciting European Union was not lost on anyone. The U.S. Embassy in Berlin quoted Germany’s Frankfurter Allgemeine, which editorialized: “Van Rompuy is certainly no megastar, who could bring New York City’s traffic to a standstill and let the powerful men in Washington and Beijing get the jitters. These would have been the qualities of Tony Blair. However, Van Rompuy does not deserve the insults he had to hear from an English chuff in the European Parliament. He is doing a fairly good job in a very calm way . . .” 3
The insults from the “English chuff” were very publicly delivered by Nigel Farage, leader of the UK Independence Party, at the European Parliament, a 751-member body of directly elected representatives from a wide spectrum of political parties. “I don’t want to be rude but, really, you have the charisma of a damp rag and the appearance of a low-grade bank clerk and the question I want to ask is: Who are you? I’d never heard of you. Nobody in Europe has ever heard of you.” 4 Farage was subsequently fined, having refused to apologize, and was forced to forfeit $4,000 from his parliamentary salary.
The USEU mission was far kinder, noting that Van Rompuy had once pulled Belgium back from the precipice after a political impasse that threatened to split the nation and praising his skills as a cool-headed negotiator. They portrayed Van Rompuy as a consensus-builder: a quiet man who wrote haiku and used self-deprecating humor to his advantage. When he performed in a comic video, the line that got the most laughs as he tiptoed across the stage imitating a mouse was when Belgian prime minister Guy Verhofstadt said, “Herman is so discreet, so discreet, even when he is there you cannot see him.” 5
The reporting officers’ considerable efforts to inject life into this somewhat colorless figure illustrates one of diplomacy’s most important tasks—describing key policymakers. Knowing as much as possible about who they are and how they think and predicting their reaction to a wide range of possible initiatives is central to their job. Foreign policy doesn’t exist without people, and dealing with people is a crucial part of foreign policy.
Personalities matter. What would a discussion of U.S.–Russian relations be without the image of a scowling Vladimir Putin? And who can think of Italy’s Silvio Berlusconi without recalling the 2009 NATO summit when he arrived glued to his mobile phone, until his annoyed host, German chancellor Angela Merkel, finally gave up waiting and ditched him curbside, all of it uploaded for viewing on YouTube?
When the media began sorting through the WikiLeaks cables, reporting on A-list celebrities from the foreign policy world provided an obvious way in. Articles from the Guardian and the New York Times dealt with world leaders everyone knew—or thought they did. Readers got a look at the “bromance” between Putin and Berlusconi and read how Medvedev played Robin to Putin’s Batman. They were titillate
d by reports that Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi was never far from his voluptuous Ukrainian nurse and learned that not even eighteen honorary doctorates could suspend the laws of economics for Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe as he ran his once-prosperous country into ruin.
But the big names were not the only interesting story. The leaked cables offered a wealth of biographic entries on the up-and-comers, the has-beens, the would-bes, the might-be-agains, and others whose positions in their respective countries provided worthwhile insight, perspective, or contradictory views.
Their names would be unrecognizable to most Americans, yet some of these people could become important overnight. Leaders come from the back benches, rural provinces, out-of-power political parties, and occasionally from the ranks of jailed political prisoners, such as the late Nelson Mandela. They get their start as economists, journalists, professors, or pollsters. They work as shadow cabinet ministers before they step into the limelight. The time to find out what makes them tick is before they ascend to the prime minister’s office.
The ego that it takes to become a politician often makes for scoundrels; the self-sacrifice it takes to become a human rights activist often makes for saints. There are also the visionaries—voices that stay out of the political lane but whose views become the next big issue. These people might be religious leaders, writers, artists, or filmmakers. To understand a culture is to gain a unique window into a country, so American diplomats visited churches and mosques; attended plays, exhibits, and concerts; watched films and television satires; scanned the newspapers for political cartoons; and were curious about people from all walks of life. Diplomacy has an undeserved reputation for being sedate, decorous, and downright dull. From the embassies’ descriptions of their contacts—the people from all walks of life whom they met and conversed with and learned from—it is anything but.
To the Secretary Page 15