Feeling uncomfortable ...

Leah Tutu ... a wise woman

                 By  Andre Jaquet

 For many people, diplomats are devious, less than frank and above all, they never reveal their true thoughts and intentions.  A widespread aphorism is that a diplomat is an honest man sent abroad to lie for his country. What is not commonly known is that Sir Henry Wooten, the man who coined the phrase, lost his job soon afterwards.

Other definitions abound:

• Diplomacy is the art of saying nice doggy until you can find a good stone. 
• A diplomat who says yes means maybe; a diplomat who says maybe means no; a diplomat who says no is no diplomat.
• A diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell so that you enjoy the journey.
• Diplomacy is the art of letting someone have your way.
• A diplomat is someone who thinks twice before saying nothing.
• The most useful language a diplomat can learn is doubletalk.
• A diplomat is someone who can follow you into a swivel door and emerge ahead of you.

Some in the profession believe that deviousness is a useful means of persuading a host government to take certain actions or adopt certain policies. In his highly readable book, ‘Diplomatic Bag’, Sir John Ure, a distinguished British diplomat, recounts that when Metternich, Chancellor of the Austro Hungarian Empire, received the news that a particularly devious diplomat had died, he remarked: “Now I wonder what he meant by doing that”.  In fact, a diplomat had better hold on to his credibility for dear life if he wants to be effective.  Tell a lie and you will soon be found out and for the rest of your posting you will struggle to regain some credibility.

Of course, in diplomacy as in life, telling the truth is not always easy because defending the indefensible is often part of the job. A distinguished British diplomat, revealed all one day. He was once confronted by a CNN reporter after Margaret Thatcher had issued a statement which was the absolute opposite of what he had told the press the previous day. “Doesn’t that make you feel just a little uncomfortable?” the reporter asked. “My dear fellow,” came the reply, “my government pays me to feel uncomfortable”.

In my experience, telling the truth is often uncomfortable in the short term but without doubt worthwhile in the long run. Keeping on the straight and narrow in your own community is difficult enough but when you change countries every few years, it becomes all too tempting to take short cuts. I often found myself in the increasingly uncomfortable role of trying to defend the indefensible, a technique I had perfected over many years.

The strongest proof I ever had of the existence of my guardian angel is that before my very first posting I had the wisest teacher anyone could wish for.  In 1972 I was transferred to London but I had doubts about whether I should accept the position, given the government’s apartheid policies. Through a common friend, I asked Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s wife, Leah, for her for advice.  

Her reply was brief and to the point: I should accept the post “but be sure to represent ALL South Africans when you get there”. That proved to be quite a challenge but her simple, wise words kept me honest over many years. When you have Ma Leah looking over your shoulder, you can’t go wrong.