bout de papier, Vol. 10, No. 1 (1993) — Winter 1993 // Hiver 1993, p. 2
The practice of diplomacy is probably entrenched in as many ways as is the practice of the legal profession or the military profession. Is there a possibility for “creative diplomacy” “, or is the concept impossible to achieve from the start? If it is possible for some notion of creative diplomacy to exist, what could this mean?
In describing “diplomat” and “diplomacy”, the Concise Oxford Dictionary refers repetitively to “skill” or “adroitness” in managing international relations and in conducting negotiations. How skillful or adroit are we if we continue to carry out the practice of foreign policy in a monolithic manner or if we do not change the style to suit the message or the mood of the day? This essay is not about knocking diplomats or knocking External Affairs or knocking Canadian foreign policy. It tries to focus on “reformatting”, if you will, the practice of diplomacy.
I have often wondered why diplomats and governments have not looked at how other corporations or professions function in order to achieve the desired result. If we want to achieve a change somewhere, why do we not set out as missionaries have done, or aid cooperants, or public health professionals, or education specialists and actually put people on site locally to work with their counterparts in carrying out the desired change? Why do we not effect change by doing rather than by lecturing, making speeches, negotiating resolutions and delivering démarches; or by writing memoranda to ministers, submissions to treasury board, and letters to heads of state?
Take the notion of peacekeeping or the practice of diplomacy, and the broad interest internationally in Canada’s expertise in carrying them out. It is widely accepted that Canadians do both these activities very well. It is not that we are brighter, or bolder, or braver. It is not because we have larger military establishments or foreign service operations than have other countries. In fact, we are smaller by far on both counts than many other countries, developed or developing alike.
It is not clear that any single answer can explain our abilities in these areas. Certainly, we have well-educated and trained individuals — but so have many other countries. We have no history of being colonizers — but that is equally true for many others. have no real history of being conquered or defeated as a nation and this is probably rare. Perhaps this explains our basic optimism and openness in approaching other countries and in participating actively in multilateral organizations. But if this is true, then why do we feel compelled to boast longly, loudly and repeatedly about our success in these matters? Is it because at bottom we do not believe we have made lasting or solid achievements in these fields? Why not let others praise us, or are we afraid that the silence will be deafening? Why do Canadians feel they must be able to total-up the score for public accolades on a job well-done before they an accept that it has in fact been done and done well?
Why do we provide the information, expertise or training that is requested in a dead, static or elitist manner? You know what I mean: the Canadian expert, located in a Canadian establishment somewhere, speaking in English or French, standing in front of a group of persons who have been specifically brought in at government expense (using APEX flights and hotels from the white, not the green, pages) from points around the world or a particular geographic region.
Why do we not only tell them how to do something differently but do it in a rigid, vertical, hierarchical manner? Why do we not seek them out in their places of occupation, search out their views on the subject and speak with them in their language? They too watch television and have views on these matters. Why not share our knowledge or expertise in a more participatory, egalitarian manner? We are great holders of colloquia or convenors of conferences. But do they achieve lasting results that are even reproducible when the knowledge imparted or information given is transported to its end site?
We spend our lives writing speeches, briefing notes, talking points, key messages and questions and answers for the House. We also make démarches and speeches, deliver diplomatic notes and cheques, and negotiate agreements, treaties and resolutions. What is achieved by all this? We do achieve a certain number of international agreements, codes of conduct or behaviour, charters of rights or obligations — and these do have effects to one degree or another. But do they affect the rights, responsibilities, roles or expectations of real, identifiable individuals? Has the understanding of that role or expectation by a soldier in country X or a policeman in country Y been changed in any manner? Will one less tree be wantonly cut down rather than by purposeful design? Will one less unwanted child be born who has no possible hope for a better future?
How many speeches, resolutions, threats of sanctions or briefing notes does it take? Is one briefing note equal to, greater than or less than one speech? If we throw away all the speeches and concentrate on producing perfect key messages, would it be any different? What if we forget about key messages and just focus on main messages, or other messages — would this be better or worse than, say, producing one resolution per year, or one resolution per multilateral forum?
What if we did not produce any of these items — simply banned them from the job descriptions of Canadian bureaucrats and then concentrated on, say, memoranda to cabinet, or treasury board submissions, or aide-mémoires, or discussion papers, or non-papers or press releases. Is there some hierarchy of meritorious achievement to be found in these items? Is it more of an achievement to work on the briefing books for three ministerial visits or for one prime ministerial visit and part of a governor-general visit? Does this change if there is an article in the Globe and Mail or Le Devoir? How does a photograph affect the scale — say a photo in the Sun or in Frank? What if it is only a cartoon? What if Conrad Black writes a letter to the Editor? What if it is only on the Op-Ed page? What if they raise or lower the flag at the same time? Does playing the national anthem count?
How much creativity can we stand?
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 10, No. 1 (1993) — Winter 1993 // Hiver 1993, p. 2. Read the rest of this issue →
