It is thirty years since Satow, the internationally acknowledged authority on
the practice of diplomacy, was last revised. Since 1979 the end of the Cold
War has enlarged and reshuffled the free world, multilateral activity has
become more convoluted and the instruments of communication have evolved
beyond recognition.
Can a guide originally written in 1917 for a very different planet be relevant
now, even with the radical revision which the new editor, Sir Ivor Roberts,
decided was necessary? Is diplomacy itself the same profession it was ninety
years ago, or indeed in 1969, when the present Satow editor and I sat at
adjacent desks in the West African Department of the Foreign and
Commonwealth Office, raw recruits struggling with the complexities of the
Nigerian civil war? The smell of sealing wax in the registries, the piles of
crisp pink and green telegrams on the desks, and the hiss and rattle of
Lamson Tubes dispatching papers to other parts of Whitehall now seem like
features of a Dickensian novel.
Reading this new edition is a chance to take a salutary lesson. The past is
closer to us than we like to imagine; the advice on how to be a good
diplomat from a century or three centuries ago can still be spot-on; the
well-tried rules of courteous and honourable exchange can cement the bricks
of international order like nothing else. Diplomacy and war remain two sides
of the same coin, with a lack of professionalism in the one liable to make
the other loom all the larger. We need to know what constitutes good
practice.
Sir Ernest Mason Satow (1843–1929) was a member of the British Japan Consular
Service who rose, through his linguistic and other diplomatic skills, to
become Head of Mission in Tokyo and then Peking at the turn of the century.
In 1907 he represented Britain at the Second Hague Conference on
International Peace. He wrote extensively about Japan and is still warmly
remembered there. In his retirement he distilled his experience into a
diplomatic guide which remains the most widely used in embassies around the
world.
This Sixth Edition of Satow’s Diplomatic Practice runs to 700 pages, a
challenge for all but the most studious of international affairs
enthusiasts, but well worth dipping into or keeping as a work of reference.
It describes how diplomacy is structured and organized, how the
international and regional institutions work (with much updating on the
European Union), how states transact their collective business and how law
works at the global level. Precedents and customs abound; and there are some
engaging anecdotes. The guidance on how to write a Note Verbale or draw up a
non-paper may seem abstruse in a world of emails, blogs and Twittering, but
formal communications remain part of international exchange. To adhere to a
standard formula, often during a tense situation, has a reassuringly
businesslike quality to it. As with legal language, it sounds strange but it
is effective.
To the layman, nevertheless, those are diplomatic niceties. The fundamental
purpose of the book is serious: humans are a contentious and destructive
species and so the opportunities for peaceful interaction must be maximized.
Here is an essential aid to doing so at the highest levels of professional
effectiveness. Nor is Satow relevant only for British, or even anglophone,
practitioners: diplomats of any nationality can draw huge benefit from it. I
particularly commend the section at the end on Advice to Diplomats: listen
more than you talk; stay calm in every circumstance; don’t show off that you
are privy to secrets. The same mistakes are made today as many generations
ago; and no practising diplomat should feel too proud to be reminded of
them.
One of the most revealing aspects of the edition is the account of the
relationship between political leaders and their career diplomats.
Ambassadors are, in their origin, an extension of the state’s power abroad,
with a capacity to protect and further the interests of their country as
great, in certain circumstances, as a general’s. But, for all their formal
plenipotentiary status, they have no independent political authority.
Relationships between states are relationships between those that hold the
power in states. Diplomats can operate the channels between them, but they
cannot substitute for the power. If they over-step the mark in this respect,
they are quickly recalled.
An ambassador, then, must beware of failing to recognize the distinction
between his private and his official persona. There are traps everywhere,
starting with “Your Excellency”. Traditionally, the “Embassy” is where the
ambassador resides: the office where the paper piles up is the “Chancery”.
But it is the bureaucracy that matters. Immunity has a serious purpose, to
prevent obstruction of the channels even when feelings run hot: it should
not protect you from parking fines. The individuals who misjudged some of
these areas in the past have contributed to classics of humour such as
Lawrence Durrell’s Esprit de Corps and the television series Yes, Minister.
It is surprisingly easy to make an ass of yourself. Yet the influence of a
small power can be enlarged, and that of a great power can be diminished, by
the personal effectiveness or ineffectiveness of its representative.
The capacity of a state to manage its overseas interests is most severely
tested, and at its most transparent, in the larger international
institutions and gatherings. Few people understand from the outside how
these work; and Satow presents an opportunity to get to know them better.
One of the most challenging aspects of an appointment to a multilateral
forum such as the United Nations is how to manage the tension between
national imperatives and the global good. Interpretations of the latter, of
course, are highly subjective, but experienced diplomats swimming with the
flow of global events have as good a chance as anyone of spotting something
better than a zero-sum game. If Permanent Representatives do not
occasionally use their initiative to find collective routes out of a mess,
even at the cost of compromising on national priorities, conflict becomes
more probable. The best Foreign Ministers learn to play the UN card
skilfully, explaining to their domestic audiences why a concession was
necessary to promote the greater good at the UN.
It is surprising how often a degree of flexibility can be made to work in your
country’s favour. During my own time as UK Ambassador to the UN, my French
colleague and I decided that, in spite of the traditional Anglo–French
rivalry on the African continent, we would actually try to be mutually
supportive when the real difficulties arose. So he gave me space when I
needed to defend some unconventional UK action on Sierra Leone; and I backed
him up when France had to take national action in Côte d’Ivoire. This then
extended to other areas of Africa. Once or twice we went inexplicably deaf
when our Ministers wanted to be more aggressive.
Sometimes diplomats suddenly find themselves in unexplored territory. In May
2000, a mission of Permanent Members of the UN Security Council visited the
Great Lakes region of Central Africa. After several days of fascinating but
not very productive negotiation with Heads of State involved in the Congo
conflict, we were flying home via Nairobi and Cairo when we heard that
Ethiopia and Eritrea were on the point of going to war with each other.
Without specific instructions from our individual capitals, but collectively
concerned that the body invested with responsibility for international peace
and security should not overfly and ignore a potentially catastrophic
situation on the ground below us, we decided to land in Addis Ababa. We then
shuttled to and fro between Addis and Amara, trying to persuade the two
antagonists, Prime Minister Meles Zenawi and President Isaias Afewerke, to
back off. Ambassador Richard Holbrooke, the mission leader, turned the heat
on them both in his inimitable way and for a while they were bemused by this
influx of minor dei ex machina. Eventually their mutual hostility overcame
concerns about their international image. We departed and war broke out. But
I like to think that it was a shorter conflict for the Council’s initiative,
and that the UN’s intervention later on was more effective as a result. Our
capitals, especially Washington, were a touch sniffy about officials flying
solo like this, but we were given the benefit of the doubt for trying.
Sir Henry Wotton, King James I’s ambassador to Venice, was famous for his
wisecrack that “an ambassador is an honest man, sent to lie abroad for the
good of his country”. Few people remember that he was relieved of his duties
after the King heard about it. Wotton subsequently advised a prospective
envoy that “. . . to be in safety himself and serviceable to his country, he
should always and upon all occasions speak the truth”. This remains wise
counsel in an era when inaccuracies, intentional or not, tend to come to
light all too quickly. A diplomat carries few weapons, but the most
important of them is his or her own credibility, both with the government at
home and with colleagues and sparring partners out in the field. Words have
to be wisely chosen, of course; and a radical openness, while engaging, is a
tactical risk. But straightforward deceit rarely pays. Indeed, if there are
modern changes of style in present-day diplomacy, one of them is a tendency
to save on the frills and grace notes of diplomatic conversation and deliver
clear, blunt positions. The US and the UK famously came to grief when they
tried too hard, when lacking proof, to be convincing about Iraq’s weapons of
mass destruction. Those of us closely involved on the UK side believed we
were illustrating a case that was bound to turn out to be true when the
final evidence was collected. But it never was; and we had to take the rap
for anticipating the facts. There is a danger that the Iran saga, as a part
consequence of Iraq, might go in the other direction. The lesson for
democracies, where public support is essential, is that the situation as it
stands must be transparently described if trouble is to be avoided.
Now that Foreign Offices have become just one of many government departments
to conduct business with foreigners, the distinction between diplomacy as an
art and normal cross-border communication has become blurred. What could be
more sensible and efficient than direct business between the experts
concerned conducted in plain language? Someone, however, has to pull the
threads together and take a strategic view. The demarcation lines take on a
stronger character when things get rough, violence looms and yet the last
chance of avoiding conflict has to be given a try. Members of the Armed
Forces show the ultimate courage, but diplomats, like journalists, can also
get killed for taking their responsibilities to the limit. Satow’s chapter
on the protection of embassies from terrorist and other attacks brings out
the point. Having clarity over the rules of the game, developing experience
in separating duty from stupidity, finding the right words when the sword
might be the alternative, are all part of the practice of diplomacy at its
finest. This book is a treasure for illustrating what that is.
Sir Ivor Roberts, editor
SATOW’S DIPLOMATIC PRACTICE
730pp. Oxford University Press. £110.
978 0 19 9559275
Jeremy Greenstock was the UK’s Ambassador to the United Nations from
1998–2003. He is now the Director of the Ditchley Foundation.
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