Diplomate, Konsulate en Variate

Pierre Dietrichsen

Geleerdes het al baie geskryf oor die praktyk van diplomatieke ver- teenwoordiging en die proses van buitelandse beleidsformulering. In die milieu van modelle, teoriee en doelwitbestuur waarin ons lewe is daar een "kursus" wat steeds baiewaarde het, naamlik ondervinding.

Tydens 'n dinkskrum het twee kollegas 'n tyd gelede notas vergelyk oor die variasies van verteenwoordiging  wat al eerstehands beleef is

Daar is natuurlik 'n verskeidenheid ander wat gelukkig nie beleef is nie. Dit is ten minste interessant en selfs, as die leser se gemoedstoestand reg is, 'n bietjie melankolies-amusant. Tye verander so vinnig dat ons een van die dae die tydperk van "buitelandse opdraendes" gaan vergeet as die deure oopswaai.

Dit begin in die Uniegebou met die Hoof van Personeel, mnr Stoney Steenkamp, bygestaan deur die vaderlike mnr Lee wat 'n gereed en gretige kadet inroep en hom meedeel dat hy na 'n Missie oorgeplaas is wat nie bestaan nie, te wete die te-stigte Konsulaat-Generaal in Lima. 

Die lees van die paar beskikbare verslae bring aan die lig dat die owerhede van die Inkaland ondernemings gegee het oor bilaterale betrekkinge wat opgevolg moet word en

Reelings vir die stigting is in haas getref tussen die nuwe Konsul-Generaal wat homself in Hong Kong bevind en die ewe nuwe Vise-konsul in die Uniegebou.

'n Reis oor die "warm" Rio bring die energieke beginner in Lima in die nagtelike ure waar die nuwe Missie sonder seremonie in die lewe geroep word die oggend toe die nuwe kollegas die Buitelandse Ministerie inlig dat die Konsulaat-Gensraal vanuit die Gran Hotel Bolivar sal funksioneer.

Om' n lang sage kort te knip, kan die resultaat van die volgende weke se gestoei met 'n onwillige Afrika-afdeling, 'n onbeholpe Protokol en 'n ongeorganiseerde Konsulere-afdeling, so geskets word, HK se die Konsul-Generaal mag se hy is 'n Ambassadeur maar die "locals" se hy is nie eers 'n diplomaat nie, wat nog 'n Ambassadeur! Konsulate stempel dokumente en daar is geen rede vir dokumentstempelaars om Afrikahoofde te sien nie om van ministers nie eers te droom nie!

Na 'n tydjie begin die Ambassadeur wat nie 'n ambassadeur is nie en die Derde Sekretaris wat 'n Vise-konsul is, die geheim van die Latynse tussen ganger aanleer en vind dat deure soms op skrefies oop is vir vlugvoetige diplomate wat nie diplomate is nie maar ook nie tevrede is om net te stempel" nie.

Toe stap die tyd maar aan in die leerskool van pragmatisme! Gelukkig volg twee "normale" poste in die Ambassades in Buenos Aires en Parys daarna om te verseker dat ons nie-meer-so-nuut diplomaat nie 'n permanente knak en "chip" kry oor die kwessies van titels en funksies en toegang en immuniteite nie.

Dit wil nou nie se die deure in die twee plekke was wyd oop nie maar ons ou spannetjie het darem in dieselfde tou gestaan as ander "dear colleagues".

'n Ander kollega wat Afrika-administrasie vir die diplomasie verruil het, bevind horn op 'n dag in Helsinki waar hy by die Ambassade sy diplomatieke loopbaan begin. Groot was sy verbasing toe hy leer dat 'n ambassade ook 'n gesantskap kan wees en die ambassadeur wat "Ambassadeur" genoem word eintlik die gesant is en, om sake nag meer interessant te maak, ook "Minister" kan wees en genoem kan word! (Die politiek neem oak alles oor! )

Gelukkig darem was ander sake min of meer normaal in die sin dat diplomatieke voorregte en die titels "ondertoe" was waarvan die boeke praat.

By sy terugkeer in Pretoria vind hy toe dat daar 'n ander element in die internasionale politiek ingesluip het wat selfs staatsleer anders maak as wat dr Olivier altyd gese het naamlik die nieonafhank-like lande. Presidente en kabinette was daar en selfs enkele ambassades maar daar kon nie eintlik van 'n dipiomatieke korps of internasionaie betrokkenheid gepraat word nie!

Intussen het ons eerste kollega in Tokio beland. Daar was die situasie mooi uitgewerk en met Japan- nese presiesheid wederkerig toegepas. Die Konsul-generaal was 'n Ambassadeur en is ook so genoem deur almal, insluitend die "locals" maar natuurlik, hy was eintlik die Konsui-generaal. Almal en alles was ewe inskiklik en beskaafd en "toegang" was binne perke heeltemal normaal.

Amptelike uitnodigings was net besonder skaars. Ons kollega ter sprake was heeltemal tuis in sy pos as Konsul wat eintlik Ministerraad was en het geglo dat min hom sou verras. Soms het vriendelike kontakte selfs na hom verwys as Adjunk-Konsul-Generaal omdat die titel as 'n moontlikheid genoem is deur hoer gesag op HK.

Daar was wel 'n ding aan die kom wat ons koliega sou verbaas. Nadat hy met groot meegevoel op televisie gesien het van 'n kollega se slegte geluk in 'n onderonsie met die Buitelandse Ministerie in Buenos Aires, is hy meegedeel om te pak en in die leeubek langs die Rio de la Plata kamp op te slaan as Hoof van Missie.

Wat vroeer 'n Ambassade was, in die kollega se jongdae, was nou 'n Konsulaat. Waar die Ambassadeur vroeer "Ambassadeur" was, het die Ambassadeur nou 'n Vise-konsul-in-Beheer geword. Nie eers Konsui nie! 'n Owerste oor tientalle sonder sy perd! Vermoedelik was daar nog nooit in die geskiedenis van ons buitelandse betrekkinge 'n geval waar 'n beampte dertien jaar na sy vertrek uit 'n pos, terugkeer in 'n "laer posisie" as wat hy vroeez in dieselfde stad bekiee het nie. ._ (Klink na die titel van 'n boek "From Second Secretary to Vice Consul in thirteen short years" ) . Anders gestel daar is seker nie veel ander gevalle van ‘n "en titre" missiehoof wat 'n Vise-konsul-in-Bevel is nie. Gelukkig is daar die ander kant van die saak naamlik dat die beampte die mees senior Vise-konsul in die wereld behoort te wees.

Dit laat mens dink ne|

Culture shock - the Madagascar experience

Rudi Conley, Antananarivo

Some months ago I set foot on the tarmac of Ivato International Airport. This country will be my home for the next few years.

The interesting part of my arrival here is that I never envisaged three months ago that I would ever end up in Madagascar .. However, being in the job that I am, these things do happen. I have been told that the difference between a 'first, second 'and later posting lies in the words "when?, where? and how much?". This being my first posting, my first reaction on learning that I had been posted to Madagascar was one of "When do I leave?".

Although being advised and informed by colleagues, a post report, books and magazines, nothing of these could ever prepare anyone for that which lies ahead. My initial response was one of "not so bad". However, this was only what a psychologist would term a "feeling of denial". By verbally expressing my feelings of "not so bad", I was only making matters worse for myself. Things came into perspective when the culture shock officially dawned on me that same evening.

Everything,inside me cried for home:  South-Africa !-. - violence or no violence, stywe pap, mieliepap (although I am a Capetonian), a deep cry for relief from my feeling of helplessness and depression. The process of accepting my situation was not easy. During the weeks that followed, I went through a very painful process of accepting circumstances that were  terribly different: A strange language, a poor infrastructure, unhygienic open air butcheries, overloaded busses, chickens and cattle roaming the streets.

All this has brought a new dimension and introspection to my own cosy and relatively comfortable existence. After being here a year, a fellow colleague still experiences moments of emotional torment when seeing the trying living conditions that the Malagasy people are experiencing. Empathy and sympathy have to be weighed up closely every time you set out to go into the zuma (marketplace).

Being here for some time now, I have learned to accept and overcome my initial negative feelings. The secret lies in coming to terms with that Q which Madagascar has to offer. Identifying with the Malagasy situation causes one to try with vigour, determination and sincerity. This effort enables one to become part of the Malagasy people and their situation. Ask any "Wasa" (foreigner) about their feelings about eating Ravintoto (green dish consisting of cassava leaves and pork meat). Being a good diplomat my comment after my first experience was "no comment".

These experiences are great stepping  stones for the future and furthermore will strengthen us to serve our country in an excellent manner.

To all my fellow colleagues posted in Africa, I would like to encourage you to hang in there: we are experiencing the best time of our careers

Evening under African skies ...

Tom Wheeler

Meintjeskop Courier Volume 3, 1993

While my wife and I were sitting in the amphitheatre of the Union Buildings the other warm spring evening, sipping a glass of wine and enjoying the Artium Chamber Quartet playing Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and the Martin Luther Kantoeri, a black choir from Pietersburg, singing an amusing action song in which the words "1940" and "bisikili" seemed to dominate, I could not help wondering why it had taken (members of) the Department over sixty-six years to realise the potential of this wonderful facility.

Was it because the cadets of today who arranged the occasion and invited members of the diplomatic corps to attend, are a more assertive and imaginative bunch than we were? Was it because authority in those days was intolerant of anything but the strictly formal and correct and of anything colour-blind? (Would the Chairman of JFSOC - if it had existed in the 1960s - have invited Dr Verwoerd to a Spring Day function on the lawn and would he have responded as elegantly as his successor did in 1990?) Was it because there were less of us and of the whole Department had not turned out, we would not have had an adequate audience? Or was it because women diplomats were unheard of 30 years ago?

I never did come to a conclusion. The atmosphere, the music, the wine, the cheese, the conversation, soon overwhelmed such serious musings.

As we wandered back to our car and the MLK gave encore after encore, filling the amphitheatre with joyful sound, I concluded that generally we live in a better, less regimented world today.

To travel hopefully ...

.

Mr Jeremy Shearar, DDG

Meintjeskop Courier Volume 3, 1993

During the mid-fifties, the Meintjeskop Courier was a dry as dust newsletter, of which I was for a while editor, or more accurately, proofreader. Presumably, the International Organisations Division was used to time on its hands. Even then we felt the need for some leavening and solicited articles and humorous contributions. This discreet foray into embryonic literacy was abruptly halted by Mr D D Forsyth when he put his stamp of disapproval on a "Post Report on Pretoria", drawn up by John Mills and John Selfe. A sense of humour it seemed was the prerogative only of the more junior personnel.

One year-round psychosomatic illness it mentioned, which varied only in acuteness, although it was diagnosed simultaneously with the founding of the Department, was "postitis". The symptoms do not need repetition but they "grew in intensity each year". Prognosis was never good and suggested treatment was "resignation".

With the changes both recent and imminent within the Department and the country, perhaps this is an opportunity for some of the Courier's readers to prepare an updated Post Report for our overseas colleagues who may have forgotten what Pretoria is like and also to prepare the new intake, many of whom may have grown up abroad, for cultural shock.    

              

Changes there have certainly been and the multi-lateral division has been a good barometer. It was possible in that post report to describe one of the Department's occupational diseases as "directivitis", which was the state of hypertension the I0S suffered, with some side effects felt by other desks, in preparing briefs for international conferences, especially the UN General Assembly and the annual meetings of the Specialized Agencies. 

For nearly two decades this particular disease has been dormant with only sporadic, minor outbreaks, but like others which mankind felt it had conquered, "directivitis" is showing signs of incipient revival and should, by next year, have spread its viruses throughout the Department.

In those early days I0S consisted of a First Secretary (shared with the Political Desk), a Second Secretary, a Third Secretary and two Cadets. One only expected to become a First Secretary in one's later thirties. Perhaps I ought to stop here, or readers might be overwhelmed by such nostalgia as waiting anything between two weeks and five years.

Although we had no formal problems in our institutional relations in those days and the small band of multilateralists were kept very busy, signs of darker days were on the horizon. Our unwillingness to join the UN resolution on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, our failure to contribute to global contributions to alleviate the plight of developing nations on the grounds that charity began at home, our divorce from UNESCO for incompatibility, added to the development of our domestic policy and the start of the decolonization of Africa, were all signs of a developing rift. So much so that our directives had already assumed the defensive tone they would retain until the need to produce them had disappeared.

The emphasis on our relations with the UN shifted to the Special Political Section which was mainly responsible for Apartheid and South West Africa (Trusteeship) issues and, when we down-graded the status of our New York Mission for a couple of years, a mistake we did not fortunately repeat when the provocation was greater, I0S developed more or less a holding role. This did not affect our relations with the Specialized Agencies until 1963 when we left the International Labour Organization after it adopted the Declaration against Apartheid and 1974 when our suspension from the UN General Assembly, led to virtual ostracism by the UN family of organizations.

My Head Office task in those lean days had been to work in the Consular Division (now taken over by Administration but then fascinating as virtually every political or press visa application could cause an international crisis) and to found the Rest of Africa.

The division dealt with all countries other than those which, with the exception of Tanzania, are today members of SADC. We were one Counsellor, a Second Secretary and two Cadets to deal with over forty countries.

We worked hard in the years of dialogue and outward policy and later in the eighties to fend off, without much conviction the total onslaught and the "low intensity war" we believed we were fighting against the UN. Not with total conviction, not with unbounded optimism but, as in the past and I imagine in the future, with dedication.

I0S hung on only by a thread. The few conferences we could attend seemed be distinctly maritime: Whales, Fisheries, Tuna, 'Antarctica, had largely been swallowed in the drift nets of the Legal Division. We were left with such excitements as scratching at the surface of GATT, arguing with the EC over apples and high tensile steels (rather than pears), finding out who were held without trial or had been sentenced to death and preparing defiant speeches for Kurt von Schirnding at the Security Council. Meetings of the Tak Nasionale Vertolking or the total onslaught committees were a relief.

Today, I look at the expanded Multilateral Branch with the eye of a watchful and avuncular obstetrician. I can't help thinking that Moses and I shared forty years, admittedly in rather different wildernesses. He gazed at Canaan from the mountain- tops of Moab and was allowed to go no further. Was Joshua much better off I sometimes wonder? Honey is sticky and milk curdles pretty quickly.