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How not to do public diplomacy in Laos or Any Where Else - Hip-Hop, Hippity Hop, Hop, Er Flop

By Patricia H. Kushlis

Update:  See Addendum below.

When Condoleezza Rice was Secretary of State and criticized for the State Department’s lack-luster handling of America's image abroad, she exuberantly claimed that “we all do public diplomacy now.”   Suddenly Foreign Service Officers who had never before spoken in public and had other pressing responsibilities – like adjudicating visas (you wonder why appointment times for visa interviews take so long?) or helping American citizens in distress - were suddenly fanned out throughout whatever country they were assigned to on public diplomacy gigs.  Meanwhile, 30% of the public diplomacy positions were left vacant. (Aerial Poto left of the Mekong in Laos by PHKushlis 2009)

It’s unclear to me whether an increase in State Department hiring a year or so ago made a dent in the high public diplomacy vacancy rate but I do know that too many American public diplomacy positions abroad are being filled by officers who are not public diplomacy specialists and do not have the requisite skills to perform the job adequately while those that supposedly do are assigned to other specialties or a few – likely more than when USIA was a separate agency – are moving up the hierarchy into Deputy Chief of Mission and Ambassadorial positions. 

Although a look at the promotion statistics from a year or so ago, suggests that these higher level opportunities for public diplomacy officers are far fewer, than let’s say, for almost any other State Department Foreign Service specialty.

Meeting-the-public is part of Ambassadorial job requirements

Now Ambassadors do, in fact, have a meet-the-public component in their job descriptions.  The best ones know the country to which they are assigned, speak the language fluently or at least passably well and are able to make the case privately and publicly for US foreign policy as it pertains to the country and region in which they serve.

If they don’t have those attributes – as I saw particularly in the case of a variety of political appointees over the years– those with common sense and a modicum of smarts take the advice of the embassy’s public affairs officer as well as the career diplomat (the DCM) who is charged with making the embassy run smoothly and, as importantly, keeping the ambassador from becoming a public embarrassment for the United States.  The advice is usually to keep a low profile and let someone who does know something talk with the media especially about substantive issues.  And, not-so-by-the-way, to refrain from making a public spectacle of himself or herself thereby introducing an unnecessary irritant into relations between the two countries.

There are, of course, also a few political appointees who are immensely popular in ways difficult for a career Ambassador to emulate.  They include both of President Obama’s appointments to China: former Ambassador John Huntsman and the current Ambassador Gary Locke as well as years ago the late Senator Mike Mansfield to Japan where he became almost a permanent fixture (1977-1988) regardless of administration because the Japanese liked and respected him so much.

But that’s not the issue here.

 

If you have not had the opportunity to view a couple of recent videos of Karen Stewart, US Ambassador to Laos, attempting to perform hip-hop at a public concert, may I suggest you let your fingers run, not do the walking to Youtube. Or just click on the video above.  The second one is below the fold. These questionable exhibitions of hubris are blissfully short and, at least for a while, the least offensive one (above) can also be found on the US Embassy Vientiane’s webpage.  My guess is it won’t last there all that long – but something posted on You-Tube as well as in the Lao electronic media as these are – can seemingly last forever.

 Tone Deaf and judgment poor?

Sadly, Ms. Stewart is a career senior Foreign Service Officer and she may well have had – and continue to have a terrific career. But I wonder.

1968, a Call to Candles in the Rain

By John C. Dyer, UK Correspondent

Whatever happened to 1968?  

I ask the question as the fabric of Eurozone collective will thins to fraying, the promised resolution to the Eurozone “debt crisis” breaking down in the very weekend it was to be announced.  The tele hums to the sound of riots in Greece, brought to me courtesy of BBC. The tweets carry interviews with the new face of China, its credit master confidently lecturing European reporters that European workers must accept significantly lower compensation, longer hours, and harder work.  Bad news for the UK economy mounts amid reports of serious divisions between the Chancellor and the Business Secretary. But the Prime Minister remains feet firmly planted in the cement blocks that, if I am right, will carry both him and the country to the bottom of the Thames.             

It is a question I often ask myself.    

1968 means different things to different people, of course. But It was a special time for my generation. Some marched with King, others with the anti war movement, others in Vietnam’s jungles.  Some boycotted grapes. Some sought White Rabbits along the streets and in the back rooms of San Francisco’s “Hashbury.”  Others trained as Marines and MBA’s.  

I watched my university football team the Pacific Tigers, danced to “Acid Rock,” played at Disk Jockey and announcer for my University FM and AM radio station, and, in the embrace of the Raymond College Common Room, dreamed happy daydreams of doing great things.  I smile to myself remembering Robin Williams character in “Hook” saying he didn’t do the 1960s. He was an accountant.  I did not catch up with the movements to make a better world until years later as the world convulsed with fear of Nuclear Weapons. 

1968 was a wonderful time to be a 19 to 20 year old California boy. But it was thought by some to be a pivotal moment in human history.  Tonight I am not so sure it turned out that way. 

Proms, Protesters and the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra – Where Culture Meets Politics

By Patricia H. Kushlis

Last week 30-some, well- organized pro-Palestinian protesters effectively disrupted the Israel Philharmonic’s popular summer Proms concert at Royal Albert Hall in London four times in two hours prompting the BBC to cut off its live broadcast.  Whether one agrees or disagrees with the protesters’ motives or behavior, their actions are just the most recent example of people using culture to send political messages that are otherwise being ignored by the government in question.

Yet it wasn’t just the protesters – some of whom were themselves professional musicians -who were in the hall that night to send a political message:  their actions were in direct response to the Israeli government’s decision to send its premier orchestra to London to perform as a cultural ambassador in the first place.  Here’s what Zubin Mehta, the orchestra’s Indian born and raised conductor, told the media in anticipation of the concert and possible protest according to John Burns of the The New York Times:

 “The IPO is a cultural ambassador for Israel, and it is not “whitewashing Israel’s crimes,” Mehta said quoting a pro-Israel boycott campaign. “People who make music have to be politically aware; we have to know what’s going on.  We have to bring people together.  In Israel, Arab and Jewish audiences, and on quite a few occasions every year, at least for two-and-one-half hours, there is some sort of peace in the hall.”

I think that’s about the best explanation Mehta could have given in the orchestra’s and the Israeli government’s defense. Music should and often does bring people together and, as Mehta pointed out, the Israel Philharmonic does just that for a few hours several times a year in Israel.

Music and the Beast

Remember the old saying: “music soothes the savage beast.” It may well but it also depends upon the kind of music and the beast’s mood. The wrong music at the wrong time can enrage the beast as well.   

Throughout the eons, music is, and has been used as a terrific unifier – but it has equally been a horrific divider that brings out the worst.

The use and misuse of the emotions that music engenders are legion.  Just think of Hitler's use of Richard Wagner’s operas in inciting the Holocaust against Europe’s Jews – powerful music, that I believe is still not performed in Israel. 

Or consider the proud nationalism encapsulated in Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture which depicted Russia’s defeat of Napoleon’s Army or Jean Sibelius’ soaring Finlandia composed and performed in the years leading up to Finnish Independence in 1917.  Or the singing of equally nationalistic choral music by the Estonian independence movement prior to 1991 poignantly depicted in the film “The Singing Revolution.”  These are but a few examples of music as politics.

Menotti’s “The Last Savage” Revisited

By Patricia H. Kushlis

When I was Executive Director of the Hellenic American Union in Athens, Greece, I had the opportunity to arrange and moderate a talk in January 1984 – or actually a panel discussion –on opera that featured Gian Carlo Menotti, the composer himself, and his work.  I also attended a lunch in his honor shortly thereafter hosted by US Ambassador Monteagle Stearns and his wife Toni at the Ambassador’s Residence. 

Menotti was in Athens at the time directing an opera at the Εθνική Λυρική Σκηνή (the Greek National Opera).  He was just as engaging, charming and irreverent in person as was Wednesday night's performance of his 1963 work, "The Last Savage,” at The Santa Fe Opera.

When "The Last Savage" premiered at the Paris Opéra-Comique in 1963 and then at New York’s Metropolitan Opera in 1964 - it bombed:  despite its All Star Met cast.  The opera then lay dead and seemingly buried for years. The prolific Menotti continued to compose, write libretti for and direct many more works.  “The Last Savage” was resurrected in Honolulu in 1973 where, a decade later, it fared much better.  Then back to the drawer.  That the Santa Fe Opera included it in its current season is a tribute to General Director Charles MacKay who himself had worked on one of the productions, had known Menotti, and decided to give it another try.  (Photo left: Anna Christie as Kitty, Dan Okulitch as Abdul (in cage) and dancers. Photo by Ken Howard).

 In answer to the negative reviews in 1964 Menotti responded: “To say of a piece that it is harsh, dry, acid and unrelenting is to praise it. For better or for worse, in ‘The Last Savage’ I have dared to do away completely with fashionable dissonance, and in a modest way, I have endeavored to rediscover the nobility of gracefulness and the pleasure of sweetness.”

Well yes; and well no. 

“The Last Savage” is, for the most part wonderfully lyrical and melodic.  Its rhythms are complex and pleasing.   Atonality and dissonance are used sparingly but to great sardonic effect.  It’s not as if Menotti didn’t know how to use these twentieth century musical modalities – rather he – more than most other composers of his generation knew when to use them.  And like Bernstein, when not.

This hilarious story moves

The opera itself is in three acts and all told lasts nearly three hours but those hours fly by.  Two acts (I and III) are set somewhere in northern India where a local Maharajah and his hefty official wife – the Maharanee - reign. (The Maharajah has a total of 27 wives but the others are – he tells us - concubines.)  (Jennifer Zetlan as Sardula, Jamie Garton as the Maharanee, KEvin Burdette as Mr. Scattergood and Thomas Hammons as the Maharajah. photo by Ken Howard)

The second act takes place in the United States.  My research tells me that Menotti placed Act II in New York – but the Santa Fe Opera took liberties with the American setting and moved it –effectively – to CHICAGO (neon lights and all).  

A large banner carried by minimally clothed paper-cut-out-thin South Asian swamis clad only in stylized white turbans, loin-cloths and body tattoos whose very appearances - not to mention backbreaking “dancing” style - provided their own form of comic relief especially when they suddenly emerged as potted jungle plants later in the production. (CHICAGO and cast photo by Ken Howard)

But wait. . .  

As the first act opens, we find ourselves in Rajaputana – Menotti’s name for his mythical Indian setting. We are escorted there by the banner-carrying swamis.(Photo left: Maharajah and swamis, photo by Ken Howard)   Rajaputana is shortened to Raja in the final act.  Now this may mean nothing to most people (including critics and commentators I’ve read), but Menotti – who surely knew the meaning of the word “putana” in both Hindi and Italian – chose it carefully as a less than nice descriptor for this mythical kingdom near the Himalayas where Kitty, the blonde heroine, a Vassar anthropology major dressed - in the Santa Fe Opera production - in a pale pink cross between a safari outfit and a 1963’s pants suit had come to find "The Last Savage."A project for her senior thesis.

Kitty is accompanied in this questionable adventure by Mr. Scattergood, her indulgent wealthy, businessman father clad in gray suit and white pith helmet – who in his own day, we learn near the end, had had a secret youthful foreign adventure of his own. 

 (Photo left Anna Christie as Kitty and photo right Anna Christie as Kitty and Kevin Burdette as Mr. Scattergood by Ken Howard)

 

The Sailor, the Consul and Madame Butterfly

By Patricia H. Kushlis

I hadn’t realized that such sharp divisions between the world views of the US military and America's diplomats extended back into the nineteenth century until I saw Puccini’s Madame Butterfly performed by the Santa Fe Opera on August 9. It was a rave review kind of performance – indeed New York Times music critic Anthony Tommasini had given it one on July 26.

(Photo above by Ken Howard courtesy of the Santa Fe Opera:  Goro - marriage broker performed by Keith Johnson; Lt. Pinkerton by Brandon Jovanovich; and Consul Sharpless by James Westman, 2010)

But what intrigued me most about this opera – composed by an Italian and premiered at La Scala in 1904 – was how differently the US naval lieutenant B(enjamin) F(ranklin) Pinkerton and American Consul Sharpless resident in Nagasaki where Pinkerton decided to take on a temporary bride while his warship was in port, approached the world even then. The opera was based on a short novel by Philadelphia lawyer and Japanophile John Luther Long. The story was then turned into a play in 1900 by David Belasco - an American theater producer and author. This play is what Giacomo Puccini saw performed in London just when he was searching for inspiration for his next opera.

Over the years, Madame Butterfly has become one of those war horse staples that is perhaps performed too often – occupying more of the opera world’s calendar than some would like. But the story and music and in this case – cast, orchestra and staging - were so strong – it’s no wonder that this turn of the twentieth century masterpiece has remained such a crowd pleaser.

Booing Pinkerton

In an Albuquerque Journal review of opening night (review behind a pay wall), the reporter cum critic, reported that the audience booed Pinkerton. The reporter dutifully added that this was something very rare for the Santa Fe Opera. No explanations given. (Photo right by Ken Howard courtesy of the Santa Fe Opera: Kelly Kaduce as Cio-Cio San, Madame Butterfly)

What the Journal reporter failed to grasp – even I could have written a better review – was that tenor Brandon Jovanovich had so successfully portrayed Lt. Pinkerton that the audience was simultaneously applauding his performance while condemning his callous behavior.

A Classy American Show in New Shanghai

By Patricia H. Kushlis

When I was in China in October, I attended a performance by the Boys and Girls Choir of Harlem Alumnae Ensemble.  The concert took place at the Shanghai Concert Hall as a part of the 11^th Annual Shanghai International Arts Festival.  The program combined, in the tradition of its predecessor - The Boys Choir of Harlem - classical, Broadway, gospel, jazz and rock.  It was a classy show and lots of fun. The concert began with a traditional Chinese song and ended with Chinese and American national anthems. (Shanghai concert cover photo from Boys and Girls Choir of Harlem Alumnae Ensemble website.)

Not Your Normal Alumnae Group

The good news is that the all but defunct Boys Choir of Harlem which entertained American presidents from Lyndon Johnson to Bill Clinton lives on. Under the direction of Terrance Wright, a 39 year old Boys Choir alumnus who radiates enthusiasm and directing skill, the resurrected choir has become an updated and older version of its former self. Women from the Girls Choir of Harlem founded in 1988 sing the parts that the young soprano boys once did. And, of course, another difference: these choir members are all adults.

From Mozart to Broadway and Beyond

The new, old choir is as much at home singing Mozart as strutting-its-stuff to Broadway melodies.  This is a thoroughly professional group of various ages, shapes and voices even though most, if not all, members likely took time off from their day jobs to make the group’s first international trip. (Photo right:  final bows, Shanghai by Patricia H. Kushlis Oct. 2009).

If this were the Soviet Union when the US government had funds to send its top performing arts groups to Moscow, Leningrad and beyond, it is quite likely that such a trip would have not only had the imprimatur of the State Department or the US Information Agency but also been financed and arranged by it. 

Patching the Travel Money Together

To Wish You A Very Glitzy and Merry Christmas

By Patricia H. Kushlis

Days before I left Singapore on November 12, the Christmas decorations were already up and lit.  The lower level of the Ngee Ann City shopping complex on Orchard Road had turned into a Christmas Markt – sans the real snow and freezing temperatures of its far older European counterparts.  Meanwhile, a towering, larger than life Christmas tree greeted shoppers and gawkers in the Mall’s  lobby. 

But what stood out even more was the lighted neon greeting strung across North Bridge Road wishing everyone a “glitzy Christmas.” This blazing banner stretched from Raffles City to the outdoor shopping arcade attached – but separate from the Raffles Hotel – Singapore’s most venerable landmark.  The only thing that stood between me and an otherwise unobstructed view of the “glitzy” greeting was the palm tree on the sidewalk – but I couldn’t very well dash into a busy street at night to photograph the sign and expect to live to tell the story.

I still find it hard to envision Christmas in the tropical heat and humidity that engulfs a city near the equator – but there it is.  After all, Jesus was not exactly born in snowy climes. His birth was celebrated with frankincense and myrrh amidst the palms - not hot mulled cider, Irish coffee or eggnog beside a fire – and the three Magi, so the story goes, arrived on camels not reindeer or accompanying Santa in his sleigh.

 So what’s wrong with wishing everyone a Glitzy Christmas in Southeast Asia’s glitziest shopping Mecca just because most Singaporeans aren’t Christians?  Who said Christmas can’t be for everyone: Certainly not the merchants.  Besides there are churches as well as mosques and Buddhist and Hindu temples in this port city of predominantly Buddhists (42.5%) even though no religion can claim to be a majority.   

Christmas in Manila

When we lived in Manila, a very Christian country except for three restive Muslim provinces in the south, Christmas lights and decorations festooned Makati – the main commercial center – beginning in October.  By the time Christmas rolled around, the monsoon season’s hot and sticky heat had given way to the “cool and dry season” – by far the most pleasant time of year.

For me, the best parts of a Manila Christmas were the concerts that took place in the lobbies of major Makati hotels performed by world class choruses from the city’s top universities.  If there’s one thing Filipinos do well, it’s performance in the western musical tradition and Christmas carols are as much a part of their repertoire as lounge music, jazz and rock.

Back to a Rocky Mountain Christmas

This year, however, it's back to the snowy, but hopefully sunny weather of the southern Rockies.  I will celebrate the holiday with extended family in northern New Mexico.  And yes, there is snow on the ground and ice in the driveway.  We’ll take the Farelito Walk along Santa Fe's Canyon Road on Christmas Eve, attend a concert by the Desert Chorale at the Basilica a couple of days earlier, ski, eat and just enjoy the holiday at one of America’s top tourist destinations. 

Meanwhile, here’s wishing you and yours “A Very Merry Glitzy Christmas” wherever you may be.

Photos of Singapore's Nge Ann City's Christmas tree and Glitzy Christmas greeting by PHKushlis, November 2009;  Photo of the Santa Fe Plaza and Basilica by PHKushlis December 2007.      

Meeting Gods and Godesses in Kolkata

By Patricia Lee Sharpe

For nearly two weeks, day and night, Bengalis have been paying homage to Durga their favorite goddess.  But now her effigies have been carried, carted or trucked from their places of honor to be tossed or toppled into the Houghly River.  Sic transit gloria.  All is transient.  Calcutta/Kolkata will return to hyper-crowded, high-energy normality, until the next puja, in honor of Kali or Manasa or Kartik or Saraswati or Ganesh or—the roster of honorees is practically countless.  Calcutta is almost always preparing for or recovering from one puja or another, as I discovered on Day One, for me, in the vibrant city that turned from Calcutta to Kolkata while I was living there.

Kartik

En route from the airport, I found myself being driven down a street along which everyone in sight seemed to have something to do with making effigies.  In open-front shop after shop, artisans were engaged in what turned out to be a four-part process.  (1) Make a humanoid armature of  bamboo strips.  (2) Flesh it out with straw.  (3) Cover it with papier mache.  (4) Paint it flamboyantly.

Kartik puja was days away, it seemed, and I had a decision to make.  Kartik, like the more widely known Ganesha, is a son of the Hindu god Shiva and his wife Parvati.  One of his modern duties is to serve as the god (eg patron saint) of mechanics and engineers.  I, as in-coming supervisor of team that included drivers, mechanics, audio-visual specialists and computer systems operators, had to say yea or nay to the business  of setting up an image of Kartik in our garage.  “Is it customary?” I asked.  The answer was  “Yes.”  So Kartik was duly installed, with a garland of marigolds around his neck.  Who wanted accidents or computer crashes over the next 12 months?  What’s more, if we could have Kartik in the garage, we could have a Christmas tree in the lobby when December rolled around.  Eid treats, in turn, would also be enjoyed by all, Muslim or not. Hurrah for festivals!

Durga

But Kartik puja had nothing, festival-wise, on Durga puja, when every intersection in the city was likely to offer a resplendent image of Durga off to the side, if not plumb in the center, traffic be damned.  In rich neighborhoods Durga images could soar to an awesome 20 feet.  Neighborhood associations collecting funds in less affluent areas would have to be content with a Durga closer to the measurements of an ordinary woman.  Always, however, she’d be lacquered in bright colors and dressed in gaudy glittery raiment.  That much was traditional.  Then came the strings of lights draped above and all around each and every one of her, and the huge loudspeakers with their gaping bells broadcasting Bollywood favorites and static incessantly.