Article
Change
Politics
Psychology
5 min read

How to be a wise diplomat about the election result

It’s not just American citizens weighing-up and trading-off.

Emerson writes on geopolitics. He is also a business executive and holds a doctorate in theology.

An ambassador presents credential to President Trump
President Trump accepts credentials from Indonesian ambassador M. Lutfi.
White House via Wikimedia Commons.

The American election result, whatever the case, is a landmark event in geopolitics. And here, it is unclear which result is better for the world in the long-term, given the ambiguous motives, interests and intentions of its main characters.  

Whereas the Biden Administration led by the Democrats has been fraught with war, the Trump Administration was comparatively peaceful, with breakthroughs such as the historic Abraham Accords. Yet, the rhetoric of President Trump is aggressive and divisive.  

Despite mainstream media assertions focused on the clear best choice in the election, a balanced perspective is necessary involving consideration of trade-offs between what the parties and their leaders each offer. This balance, however, is difficult to achieve as polarisation encourages retrenchment into simple views.  

As the American election approaches, it is worth considering what a diplomatic approach to an election transition might entail. Here we can look to the example of Henry Kissinger, whose diplomatic mindset is illustrated in Barry Gewen’s The Inevitability of Tragedy. Gewen eloquently illustrates the Kissingerian – even if often cold-hearted – approach to the consideration of trade-offs in diplomacy.  

Gewen traces the early-life experience of Kissinger, a German Jew forced to flee Nazi persecution, both serving in the US Army and attending Harvard. Unlike his American peers, Kissinger understood through personal experience that authoritarianism could rise through democratic means, Adolph Hitler the primary example.  

It is partly for this reason that Kissinger was willing as US Secretary of State to intervene in the affairs of foreign states to halt dictators emerging through democratic processes. The trade-off was here between respect of democratic process and the possibility of dictatorship, a trade-off which Americans without German-Nazi experience would never understand and which they saw as deeply unsettling.   

Kissinger is the archetypal diplomat. His example is worth reflecting on in the wake of the American elections. Kissinger approached geopolitics with little emotion, instead considering what course of action in a particular situation served as the least worst evil available.  

He engaged across a wide variety of networks, talking with individuals who would not speak with each other. And he maintained a considerable sense of calm throughout his career as both an actor and commentator, responding to events as they developed. 

An initial consideration in emerging from the American elections is that too much emotionality – amplified by political polarization – will expose politicians, diplomats and the public to risk. Emotion colours careful, strategic calculation of various scenarios and actions across potential scenarios.  

‘People constantly show you who they are; we are just too busy to notice,’ 

An effective diplomatic (or strategist) will carefully consider what might happen and think through potential steps in case these realities actually transpire, while recognising that too much anticipation risks cascading into fantasy. Too much emotion impedes this careful process of reflection and deliberation as part of the development of strategy.  

A second element of effective diplomacy and strategy is to consider people as they are, rather than rely on superficial descriptions in the media, biased second-hand accounts or who or what one hopes another person is. People’s motives, intentions and interests are not easily discernible at first glance, instead requiring careful probing and questioning.

At the same time, there are few more accurate sayings than ‘People constantly show you who they are; we are just too busy to notice,’ conveying that counterparts are always providing information as to who they are, few careful or disciplined enough to mask their real thinking.  

An effective diplomat might consider the early upbringing – much like that of Kissinger – that shapes a person’s character and behaviour, if not their worldview informing action.  

Consider Donald J. Trump, learning right from wrong on the streets of New York City via the mentorship of lawyer Roy Cohn, who served as Chief Counsel to Joseph McCarthy while McCarthy prosecuted potential American communist sympathisers.  

Cohn’s rules of life, work and play were as follows (these summarized by a friend well-acquainted with Cohn and his colleagues): ‘One, attack, attack, attack! Two, deny everything! Three, always claim victory!’ The logic of these three rules of life are readily understandable when considering the harsh New York realities within which Cohn and later Trump operated.  

These considerations are overlooked, however, amid the onslaught of media which fails to consider what really shapes the character of a man or woman.  

Curiosity, a critical mindset and self-restraint in the face of the human temptation to reach rapid and satisfying answers are here necessary, as part of figuring out what exactly is driving action.

A wise diplomat would pay particular attention to these pivotal factors – such as the influence of a long-standing mentor or advisor – as they might manifest in the present. This requires an intellectually honest and serious consideration of the worldview that shapes a counterpart, rather than considering superficial media commentary.  

Third, a wise diplomat will maintain relations across a wide variety of networks, understanding that it is fine to talk with two or multiple individuals whose own relations are fractured (in fact, these strains in relations can be beneficial within diplomacy, the diplomat in this case able to play broker as he or she needs or wishes).  

The maintenance of broad networks is vital, because this enables action under a wide array of potential circumstances, understanding that anything can happen (we are here reminded of Harold MacMillan’s saying “Events, dear boy, events!”) And a key lesson in diplomacy and in the cultivation of strategy is that, once crises unfold, it is the preparatory work in developing networks and alliances that counts; little new network-formation is possible afterwards.  

The previous two points suggest that a wise diplomat will not pay too much attention to what is in the media, but will instead consider their own learning gleaned through in-person interactions with others, as well as the perspective of their most trusted contacts. Curiosity, a critical mindset and self-restraint in the face of the human temptation to reach rapid and satisfying answers are here necessary, as part of figuring out what exactly is driving action, and what can in turn be done to shape action in accordance with interests.  

Finally, an effective diplomat will not try to play God, serving as the arbiter of right or wrong, adopting instead a more considered approach anticipating and responding to circumstances as they gradually or quickly evolve. Effective strategy requires an aloof approach (caring – but not caring too much), removing the self from a given situation so as not to allow natural human vices such as presumptiveness, arrogance or short-term self-interest to affect judgment.  

And the American election bring with them a number of trade-offs, these to be weighed carefully by American citizens, as well as by diplomats and strategists in other countries. These trade-offs will be considered most effectively if approached with calmness – the aloof, even if cold-hearted, approach personified by Henry Kissinger. 

In an age of catastrophising, emphasing emotion, it is easy to descend rapidly into despair, rather than consider action from a long-term perspective. Diplomacy and strategy require the latter, which will be a key to success for those who emerge effective in advancing their interests in the wake of the American elections. 

Review
Change
Film & TV
Sustainability
5 min read

Why is the The Repair Shop so cherished?

Memory lane and the makers work magic on tired treasures.

Sarah Basemera is a circular economy enthusiast and a founder of Canopi, a boutique for recrafted furniture.

A restorer rest on his elbows while painting a wooden rocking horse.
@therepairshoptv.

In the beginning, before the plethora of streaming platforms, was Antiques Roadshow, Cash in the Attic and Bargain Hunt. I recall rainy summer days as a tweenager, stuck indoors tuning into uplifting afternoon TV, forced by my older sister to watch these wholesome shows... all because there was only one TV screen in our home. I dreamt of finds across our green and pleasant land, all the while safely seated in a gritty Camberwell (long before our newsagent sold Vogue Italia and ID magazine). 

Fast forward to 2017 and along came The Repair Shop. It swooped onto our screens almost a decade ago and has since become a family TV gem. During lockdown, its audience boomed. It became a soothing staple for many homes to open their doors into The Repair Shop barn and see makers work their magic on tired treasures. After almost a decade, why are we still captivated with seeing tired treasures and hope restored despite its recent troubles? Now The Repair Shop crew is embarking on their first live show tour called ‘Secrets from the Barn’. Instead of the Barn, they'll be traveling by bus to share their favourite repair stories and tackle problems in a Q&A session. 

To the uninitiated, I perhaps lost you at Bargain Hunt. The Repair Shop is a gentle show about tired treasures restored back to life by a myriad of craftspeople set in a picturesque barn in West Sussex. The list of these restorers reads as a fitting extension to the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker. Depending on its core material, each object, is matched with one of them. There is a carpenter, a goldsmith, a hatter, an upholsterer, a horologist and a leathersmith. A cobbler, a luthier, a seamstress, a ceramicist and a metalsmith appear too. Then a vintage electrician, a book conservator, a silversmith, a percussionist restorer, an organ builder and a painting conservator.  Finally, in a league of their own – the teddy-bear repairers! 

Suspense is weaved into the show as we want to see the object ‘before’ and ‘after’. During the repair, we eavesdrop on the challenges faced by the restorer trying to fix the object. The reveal moment is the show’s climax - seeing the object restored to full glory and reunited with its custodians.  

When the object is associated with loss or hardship, the stories will quiver the stiffest upper lip. I never imagined I could be tearful about the restoration of a teddy bear, a toy plane or a tractor.  Clearly it is not the objects that are important, but the treasured memory of those whom they belonged to and the enduring love of the family members who brought the objects into the barn. 

Our fondness for The Repair Shop is a quiet longing for things to be fixed both within and without. 

One day in the future, reality TV shows, like The Repair Shop, will be relics themselves. Pored over by generations to come, eager to learn what we were like. But not all such shows are made equal. I hope The Repair Shop is treasured just like those teddy-bears. Why? Because it says so much about us today. 

We are tiring with our throwaway culture – click, scroll and repeat. Things built to pass, made of materials that we cannot pronounce, and that nature cannot digest. Unforgettable one season later. Crafted often in upsetting conditions for workers, without fair pay, lunchbreaks or daylight. Our fondness for The Repair Shop is a quiet longing for things to be fixed both within and without. It is affection for those who are not with us now, an appreciation for craftsmanship and the resourcefulness in the face of waste. We are charmed by the craft of repair but why? 

Suffice it to say the Millennial, Zillenial, Gen Z, Alpha, and Beta generations did not grow up in a ‘make do and mend culture’. I know my mother is sad I wear red and white snowflake Scandinavian handmade mittens with holes in them. I cannot line a curtain. We kind of all know that the repair culture that Boomers and beyond practiced has been lost. But we long for it to be revived again. 

‘Humpty dumpty sat on the wall . . . all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put humpty together again’. As children we know instinctively this is tragedy, a broken toy or person that cannot be fixed. Our preference for mending as a virtue, is instilled in us from a young age.  

Mending things is satisfying and makes a positive contribution because the object can be used or admired in its full glory once again. It reduces waste by preventing us from buying new things and is therefore resourceful. Many of us ‘click and collect’ not just because of price but also convenience. There is deep satisfaction in salvaging something that you own or in having it restored with expert help when its beyond your ability. 

Many of the things we buy now couldn’t make it to The Repair Shop because they wouldn’t survive being passed down. Things manufactured by machine, out of synthetic materials are not strong contenders for heirlooms of tomorrow. Visitors to The Repair Shop own something precious but durable and worthy of being restored by an expert.   

Craftmanship is beautiful.  Revealing what it takes to repair gives us deeper appreciation for it and the hands that made it. When we see what it took to ‘remake’ we foster respect for the skilfulness of the craft.  

The intergenerational quality strikes a chord in a culture preoccupied with youthfulness and anti-aging. Often families come into the barn together and recall a fond memory of a loved one from another generation. The story behind the piece and the person it belonged to, is fascinating. Our affection and love for our grandparents and beyond is endearing and it is uplifting to see this fondness on screen. 

Then there is the big reveal, the dust sheet is lifted and the artisan reveals the repaired masterpiece. If you make it to the end of the story the reward is to see the dramatic change. It can be emotional, at the end when the custodian sees the object restored. Emotions run high; there is joy, gratitude and a sense of satisfaction that the broken object is revived and the memory of the loved one lives on.  

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