Some Aspects of Modern Diplomacy

MR. JUPP: We are highly honored to have a visit today from His Excellency the United States Ambassador to Canada. He is now a career diplomat but when he graduated from Princeton University he joined an investment-counselling firm in New York becoming a partner in 1930 and it was not until March 1942 that he joined the Department of State. Thus he took 16 years' experience in private business to Washington.

The variety of his assignments in the Department of State makes very interesting reading and I might mention Chief of the Division of Defense Materials; Chief of the Blockade and Supply Division; Chief of the Eastern Hemisphere Division and Chief of the War Areas Economic Division, all war time assignments. Then there were missions abroad such as membership of a Presidential mission to investigate civilian economic problems in Europe and supply needs of the Allies in 1945. In October of that year he was named Counsellor for Economic Affairs with the rank of Minister at the American Embassy in Paris. While in this appointment he was also representative on the Central Rhine Commission at Strasbourg and on the European Central Inland Transportation Organization. In 1946 he returned to the State Department as Chief of the Aviation Division and in 1947 Deputy Director of the Office of Transport and Communications. Then came a year as Counsellor at the U.S. Embassy in Nanking and a return to Washington in 1949 for a two year period as Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Far Eastern Affairs. In November 1951 his assignment changed to a newly created position involving the coordination of all activities within the Department of State related to programs of economic and military assistance to friendly nations. In 1952 and '53 Mr. Merchant was alternate permanent representative of the U.S. on NATO, an assignment which ended with his appointment as Assistant Secretary of State for European Affairs. It was on May 9, 1956 that he was sworn in as United States Ambassador to Canada.

This fairly detailed recital of some of the key appointments held by Mr. Merchant indicates quite clearly the experience in business, in Washington and abroad, upon which our distinguished guest bases his address to us on "Some Aspects of Modern Diplomacy".

MR. MERCHANT: It seems to me that in most of my recent speeches in Canada I have been skating carefully, if not skillfully, on ice which in spots was thin. A month or so ago I spoke before the Canadian Club in Montreal on recent developments in the Middle East and on American foreign policy in relation to those developments.

On my last visit to Toronto in the Fall, I discoursed at some length on United States policy with respect to the disposal of agricultural surpluses, a topic which by my observation is a lively one in Canada and not free from controversy. I recall that that speech produced a cartoon in the TELEGRAM which I could only interpret as being intended to portray me playing an ignoble role in a horrible traffic accident.

All this is by way of saying I have decided this noon to give both you as my captive audience and myself a holiday from current, serious problems. A contributing factor to this decision--which I trust you will find praiseworthy--is the fact that I have just returned from three weeks' holiday in Florida. On my return, when the time came to assemble some thoughts for your delectation, I found myself still somewhat in a holiday mood, disinclined to grapple with wheat, or canals, or investments, or neutralism, or Communist China, or contentious issues of any description.

With rare foresight I had before my departure southward selected a title sufficiently innocent yet elastic for my purpose. As you know, I am speaking today on "Some Aspects of Modern Diplomacy."

Now, we all appreciate that the age in which we live is one in which the conduct of international relations plays an almost frighteningly important part in the lives of nations and of ourselves as individuals.

In a single lifetime the world has undergone two global wars. We have been for years, and I am satisfied we will remain for years, locked in a contest for the survival of our institutions and possibly our national lives with a great power center dominated by the conviction that the forces of history are on its side and that, by one means or another, it will in time achieve world domination. The so-called "cold war" in which we now live erupted into bloody fighting in Korea in 1950. There has hardly been a year in the last decade which has not seen civil war or rebellion or other fighting some place in the world.

It is, I take it, the function of diplomacy to defend the vital interests of a country and to exhaust every means of honorably resolving conflicts of interest; resolving them by negotiation in the unceasing effort to establish an enduring peace with justice. That, as I see it, is what diplomacy is all about.

Over the years, circumstances and relationships change. Science produces new tools for diplomacy to employ. The object and purpose of diplomatic intercourse remain the same but the techniques undergo constant change.

As one who has attended a good many international conferences since the end of the last war, I have always been fascinated by stories of the Congress of Vienna nearly 150 years ago. Many of its participants proved accomplished biographers so there is much material available. I know well the mirrored room in the palace in Vienna where the Congress sat, its proportions destroyed by the five doors leading into it.

You may remember that in its original architecture the great hall had had, quite properly, only two doors. But the presence at the Congress of five crowned heads, each claiming equality with if not precedence over the other four, led to a crisis both of protocol and of architecture. With only two doors, only two of the five kings and emperors could enter the room simultaneously for a session of the Congress.

The crisis was resolved by chopping three additional doors to enable all five to enter the room at the exact same second. It was a protocol success but an architectural monstrosity.

And, as a matter of fact, one of the great achievements of the Congress was to settle various problems of protocol, problems which had not merely plagued the social relationships of countless ambassadors for several centuries, but which at times had brought Europe to the verge of war.

Take the question of the problem of precedence. Ambassadors used to be ranked according to the antiquity of their country. Sir Harold Nicolson reminds us that the Pope in 1504 compiled a table of precedence. Under it the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire came first, the King of France second, the King of Spain third, and so on through the lesser kingdoms and principalities. The King of England ranked seventh, just after the King of Portugal and just before the King of Sicily.

As new nations came into existence and old ones declined in power, this list of seniority fell into dispute and international relations became at times seriously embroiled.

Nicolson tells us that one of the worst of these recurring incidents came in 1661 in London, "when the coach of the Spanish ambassador tried to push in front of that of the French ambassador and a battle occurred with loss of life among the footmen and postillions." This led to the rupture of diplomatic relations between Paris and Madrid and brought both countries to the brink of war.

He goes on to say, "As late as 1768 at a Court Ball at London the French ambassador, observing that the Russian ambassador had established himself in a front seat next to the Austrian ambassador, climbed round over the back benches and inserted himself physically between them." Nicolson laconically concludes that: "This led to a duel in which the Russian ambassador was severely wounded."

To this problem, which seems to us today ridiculous but which was of deadly importance even at the beginning of the 19th century, the Congress of Vienna addressed itself. With admirable simplicity, the Congress decided that the order of rank or precedence for ambassadors at any capital was to be determined by the date on which each envoy had presented his letters of credence.

Everyone has been happy ever since with this decision. On the more serious side, however, the peace which emerged from the Congress of Vienna lasted almost exactly 100 years. For this, if for no other reason, it is of interest to consider some of the techniques of diplomacy then employed and to examine some of the techniques of diplomacy employed or forced upon us today.

I suppose nothing has had so revolutionary an effect upon the conduct of diplomacy in the past century and-a-half as improvements in the art of communication. I have no need to list the developments which have taken place and now form the fabric of our daily life. The process continues and no end to it is in sight. Yet the statesmen at the Congress of Vienna could communicate with their capitals no more quickly than the Romans at the beginning of the Christian era. I dare say communications were not as good, for the famous roads of Roman times had no counterpart in early 19th century Europe. It was not unusual for a diplomat in the remoter areas of that time to be without instructions from his home govern

ment for half a year or longer. Even in more accessible regions, delay was far from unusual. The other day I . read a letter from our Minister in London dated June 27, 1786, to the Secretary of State which begins, "Sir: I have just received the letter you did me the honor to write on the first day of May. . ." (This was 57 days earlier). The Minister then referred to a letter he had written on March 4 of that year and to which he had had no reply because, ". . . we hear that the vessel which carried out that despatch sprung a leak at sea, put into Lisbon and did not sail hence until late in April . . ."

Less than two centuries ago the Ambassador of France required two and a half months to travel from Paris to his post in Stockholm. Yet I think of one trip I took in September 1954 to Bonn and London with Secretary Dulles. (Story).

The speed of modern communications coupled with the complexity of relations between states today have wrought great changes in conferences since Vienna. They have almost inevitably turned the modern conference into a mass meeting. At the last Geneva Conference of Foreign Ministers a little over a year ago, the average size of the four delegations must have come close to 200 people, if one counted in addition to the Foreign Minister and his political advisers all the research assistants, the experts, press attaches, code clerks, security guards, secretaries, and administrative staff. Yet I recall reading that Talleyrand went to the Congress of Vienna attended by his nephew's wife, one junior diplomatist, not his nephew, and two clerks. And Lord Castlereagh had only fourteen in all his party, which included his cook.

The diplomat, of course, benefits from improvements in communications and makes daily use of them. There are disadvantages, too. I remember last summer, I was on Vancouver Island . . . (Story).

He has gained in the speed with which his reports can be transmitted and in the number of persons he can reach. He also gains in perspective. It is difficult to maintain a balanced view of the world importance of developments in the country where one is stationed. There is a natural tendency to exaggerate their importance. In days gone by, the diplomat had little knowledge of what was happening in other parts of the world and there was an even greater tendency for daily events around him to assume an importance out of proportion to their true value. Today he has more information about happenings outside his own area than he can comfortably digest. Not only do the newspapers and radio keep him informed, but his government sends him copies of despatches and cablegrams from its posts around the world.

Modern communications enable the diplomat to obtain prompt, expert advice from home that was never available in an earlier age. An ambassador is thus supported from home by a staff of advisers numbering thousands and which can provide assistance on any one of a hundred technical subjects. This support is only as far away as

the nearest telephone. And 24 hours will take him home for consultation from almost any capital in the world. Modern communications have made possible to an unprecedented degree the conduct of personal diplomacy

by the chief officers of a government. The Summit Conference in 1955 in Geneva was a striking example of this kind of diplomacy. Not only was the President of the United States able to meet personally with the Prime Ministers of Great Britain and France and the leaders of the Soviet Union, but he was also able to keep in daily hourly contact with Washington on all those matters which required his attention. Secretary of State Dulles, since 1953, has travelled hundreds of thousands of miles by air in the course of his duties.

Your own Prime Minister St. Laurent and External Affairs Minister Pearson are also accomplished world travellers, and Minister of Health and Welfare Martin has just returned from a trip which illustrates in spectacular fashion the potentialities of modern communications in this respect. It has been argued that such visits by high officials detract from the value of permanent representatives abroad. I believe, however, that a visit of a foreign secretary or other member of the Government reinforces the work of the local representative rather than detracts from it. Furthermore, there is no substitute for the personal knowledge which a government official acquires on such visits.

With the snail's pace of communications a century and a half ago, an ambassador of necessity had wider and more absolute authority than his modern successor. His title, "Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary," could be taken quite literally. I recall the story of the Louisiana Purchase early in the 19th century. The two United States envoys, Livingston and Monroe, had been instructed by our government to try to purchase from Napoleon the city of New Orleans and adjacent territory. They were authorized to spend a maximum of 10 million dollars. To their amazement the French foreign minister suddenly offered them half a continent for 15 million dollars. They accepted the offer on their own, although ratification of their act depended upon the Congress which did not give its assent without considerable opposition. I often wonder what would have happened if there had been cable connections between Paris and Washington in those days.

I do not, however, myself think that the improved speed of communications has in fact diminished the ability of an Ambassador to influence events with the course of which he is concerned. It is true that distance and slow communications in days gone by offered exciting freedom of action to the bold, the enterprising, the freewheeling ambassador of those times. In most cases, however, this same element of distance and poor communications froze an ambassador into total passivity.

There has been produced, however, by the speed of modern communications a tendency to centralize the decision-making process in the home capital. This development is not limited to diplomatic affairs but has also taken place, I think, in war, in commerce and industry, indeed, in most phases of modern life. One of the dangers of this trend is that those who make the decisions will be out of touch with real, local life. In large part, this tendency in the field of diplomacy has been offset by the increasing importance of the ambassador as an adviser. Though his power as a negotiator may have diminished, the complexities of modern diplomacy cause his government to rely more and more upon his analysis and judgment of a given situation. His influence is often the determining factor in the decision.

Through modern communications then, the diplomat has gained a new perspective in his work. He looks out on the world through more windows. He can call upon specialists to assist him. The highest officials of his government support him by personal visits. His personal area of decision possibly has decreased but the influence of his advice, particularly if it is good, has greatly enlarged.

Another phenomena of our time has had a tremendous impact upon the conduct of diplomacy. This is the spread of the tenets of popular democracy. When the powers of Europe sat down around the conference table of Vienna, there was not a single representative of democracy as we understand the term. Even in Great Britain, where a limited democracy did exist, the conduct of diplomacy was subject to few of the influences which are accepted without question today. The spread of popular demo cratic ideas had then only just begun. For those nations, the conduct of diplomacy was a dynastic matter. The years have passed and the Divine Right of Kings is only a memory, overshadowed in our own time by the appearance of far harsher systems of rule, side by side with genuine democracies.

Now, perhaps the greatest objection to dynastic diplomacy was that a small group of self-seeking men could place in peril the well-being of an entire nation, and do it for their own ends, through secret negotiations. On this account the idea of open diplomacy became almost an article of faith with democrats throughout the world. Popular espousal of the concept reached its peak at the end of the First World War when the slogan, "Open Covenants Openly Arrived At," the first of President Wilson's Four teen Points, caught the public imagination. The principle was made a part of the Covenant of the League of Nations which provided that the member nations would deposit with the Secretariat copies of all international agreements to which they were parties. It has also become a part of the United Nations Charter. Although this concept of open diplomacy has not proved the panacea many of its advocates had hoped, the principle retains wide acceptance in the international community.

In democratic countries open diplomacy is ensured by the submission of all major international undertakings to the legislature for approval. In some countries, such as the United States, this procedure is explicity set forth in the Constitution. In other countries, such as Canada or Great Britain, the requirement of legislative approval has become a part of the unwritten constitution. In either case, the diplomat must be always mindful that his work is finally subject to the ratification or rejection of his countrymen.

Whatever objections may be raised to popular influence in international relations, I believe that the most dependable alliances are those which enjoy the broad support of the peoples involved. As far as the United States is concerned, our long-range hopes for the maintenance of successful working relationships with all free nations as well as our hopes for the modification of the policies and structure of the communist system depend to a great extent on the understanding we can achieve with their populations.

NATO is a signal example of what well informed popular democracies will support. For an example of the weakness of an alliance without popular support, the tragic case of Hungary is instructive. A member of the Sovietdominated Warsaw Pact, the Hungarian people made almost their first act in that fleeting moment when they regained control of their destiny, the repudiation of their membership in the Pact. The chains have once more been fastened on that unhappy people, but the weakness of the Warsaw Pact has been exposed for all the world to see.

With the growth of democratic processes and with developments in the field of mass communications, the modern diplomat must be prepared to have his decisions and actions exposed to public controversy. He must be prepared, at least occasionally, to see his most confidential undertakings dissected in the morning newspaper headlines. Any diplomat is understandably unhappy at times over this feature of modern diplomacy. He can be forgiven on occasion for thinking, when delicate negotiations are being undertaken, that a successful outcome would be assured if all the newspapers and radios would vanish from the earth for a short time. But the spotlight of publicity has become a fact of modern diplomatic life. It is an inseparable part of present-day diplomacy and one cannot deny that a well-informed citizenry is the essential foundation for a durable foreign policy.

The diplomat may take some comfort from the fact that, while popular democracy and intense publicity are hallmarks of our age, the diplomat in times past has also had to reckon with public opinion. When John Jay, the United States plenipotentiary in London, negotiated in 1794 the treaty that bears his name, Congress was so uncomfortable about it that it attempted to keep the provisions secret. When they finally came out the public was so incensed that scores of hamlets were lighted by bonfires in which Jay was burned in effigy, flags were lowered to half-mast, and hangmen officially burned copies of the treaty. And yet it is doubtful whether a better treaty

could have been obtained at the time. So much for one of the occupational hazards of my profession.

Despite the desirability of publicity and democratic influences in the conduct of diplomacy, there is still a need for confidential negotiations among government representatives; for agreements which do not have to be hammered out in the neon-lighted atmosphere of public debate. All of a nation's affairs cannot be successfully con ducted in a goldfish bowl. Too often public negotiations have been used as a sounding board for propaganda of one of the negotiators rather than as an endeavor to reach genuine agreement. As I well recall, the tip-off at the Berlin Foreign Ministers' Conference in 1954 that the Soviet Union was unwilling at that time to reach any agreement on German reunification or an Austrian peace treaty was its unwillingness from the outset to negotiate in confidence. They were not looking for a conference but for a propaganda carnival.

Often, too, the agitation of popular passions or the public announcement of a position can make international agreement virtually impossible. No government which has taken a public stand can compromise without losing prestige. Yet the modification of an original bargaining position is often necessary to the reaching of a mutually acceptable agreement. Every democracy must constantly balance the legitimate rights of its people to be informed about negotiations which may commit them to serious action with the necessity of safeguarding the success of the negotiations. It is no simple task to determine where the balance may lie.

There can be little doubt that popular democracy has made the work of the diplomat more difficult. He must think in terms of the entire complex of political, economic, social, and cultural forces which determine the actions of nations. He must concern himself not only with government officials but also with a broad cross-section of the nation's people. His work, in democracies at least, is always subject to the scrutiny of the legislature and to publicity of a sort which at times can damage delicate negotiations.

It is inescapable that the development of modern communications and the acceptance of what I have described as popular democracy have markedly modified the traditional techniques of diplomacy. On top of these has come--and this is really a development of only the last decade--the widespread appearance of multilateral diplomacy. The United Nations, of course, is the most striking example of the attempt to negotiate by public discussion and with the full participation of every member of the organization even though there may be only two or three states directly involved in the particular issue under debate. Then the United Nations itself has proliferated an extraordinary number of commissions and organizations, all of them multilateral in character. There is, for example, the International Civil Aviation Organization with its seat in Montreal; the Food and Agriculture Organization; the International Labor Organization; economic commissions for Europe, for Latin America, and for the Far East. I could list, I think, two pages of permanent organs or commissions--all with multiple membership--which belong to or are connected with the United Nations.

In the past year the United States Government officially participated in 308 conferences, and I have no doubt that the list of meetings and conferences in which Canada participated is just as long.

Then, by reason of the failure of the United Nations to provide genuine security against aggression, for reasons with which we are only too sadly familiar, there has been the understandable development of collective security arrangements. The North Atlantic Treaty comes first to mind. This is the keystone of the defenses of the United States and Canada together with their thirteen fellow partners. There is the Manila Pact, "Anzus," the Organization of American States, the Baghdad Pact and others. All in all, the United States is joined with forty-two other countries in mutual security agreements.

It is, I think, unprecedented for sovereign powers in times of peace to enter into defensive treaty arrangements under which, in so many cases, an active organization is established to insure not only the efficiency of the collective defense but also to develop and expand in other non-military areas the comradeship and the common interests which underly the treaty. Most alliances of history enter activity only in time of war and, as we all know, hard decisions are most easily reached and acted upon under the pressure of a fight to survive. The thorny questions of priorities and of the equitable sharing of costs and burdens are hard to come by in peace. A great and deep reservoir of good will and common sense and responsibility is needed to arrive at common agreement in a period of peace, but this is just what is being done in NATO and, increasingly, I am satisfied, in our other alliances.

It is not surprising to me that an issue like Cyprus can deeply trouble the relations of good friends and allies or even that disagreement on basic policy can arise, as was the case last Fall over the Suez, between the United States and two of its oldest and best friends. The important thing is that deep friendships rise above disagreements rather than succumb to them. Indeed, out of such disagreements often comes, as I believe truly to be the case today, an even stronger bond based on a clearer understanding of another's interests and point of view.

We are, I believe, learning to extract the best from multilateral diplomacy. This we can only do if we clearly recognize its limitations as well as the advantage it provides for the education and mobilization of world opinion and moral force. Multilateral diplomacy, however successful, must still be reinforced or in some cases preceded by intimate and confidential bilateral negotiation and exchanges of view.

There is no country, I suppose, with which the United States works so freely and so closely and so continuously as with Canada. Canada is vitally important to the United States just as I believe the United States is vitally important to Canada. Mostly this is true because we share the same heritage of western Christian civilization. Our ideals, our cultures, our hopes, are fundamentally the same. We agree with all the depth of common conviction that man is an individual with God-given rights and duties. It is the cynical, evil attack on this basic concept which divides the world today and has forced on us both the realization that we must be prepared to defend our faith or perish.

Then, our very geographical contiguity brings in its train a host of interdependent relationships, commercial, scientific, cultural, and all the other fields of human activity. Joint defense is only common sense in the thermonuclear air age where the axis of threat crosses the North Pole and not the two great oceans. Beyond all this, our two countries share youth and the recent experience of settling a virgin continent and in a few years building out of wilderness the most productive social community that any civilization has ever known. Both of us face on two oceans. Carved over the main door of your Parliament buildings is the line, "The wholesome sea is at her gates, her gates both East and West." This physical fact forces both of us to look across the Pacific to the Far East as well as across the Atlantic to Europe. It guarantees, it seems to me, that our comprehension of the world about us is truly global. The facts of our physical place in the world deny that either of us can be parochial or insular. Thus I think you will agree that the last century and a half has witnessed a revolution in the world political environment. The old order of Europe which the Congress of Vienna rationalized and reinforced served reasonably well to maintain the peace of the world for a century. That old order dissolved in the acid of two almost suicidal world wars.

We are living in a new era. It is outstandingly characterized by the division between the free world and the slave empire of the Soviets. The Soviets make no bones over their dedication to the destruction of our institutions, our freedoms, and our whole way of life. The Soviets combine great military power with growing industrial power and add to those elements a highly developed, sophisticated apparatus for international propaganda and subversion. They think that time and history are on their side. In that they are wrong, for the true record of history is the unending and successful struggle of the individual to achieve dignity and freedom. It is for that freedom and that dignity that we of the free world stand.

As I have suggested in somewhat lighter vein earlier in this speech, there have been substantial changes in diplomatic methods and techniques since the Congress of Vienna 150 years ago, but the object of our diplomacy stands unchanged. It is the maintenance of peace with justice. But in our interdependent world this goal cannot be achieved by attempting to withdraw from that world.

The United States has learned a great lesson from the last two wars. President Eisenhower, in his Second Inaugural Address a few weeks ago, put it clearly when he said, "No people can live to itself alone . . . no nation can longer be a fortress, lone and strong and safe. And any people seeking such shelter for themselves can now build only their own prison."

THANKS OF THE MEETING were expressed by Mr. H. R. Lawson, Third Vice-President of the Club.