Foreign Service

It’s an old joke: a person who speaks three languages is trilingual. A person who speaks two languages is bilingual. What do you call a person who only speaks one language? American.

I can’t speak for American society as a whole, but I can say that that saying is definitely not true of foreign service officers. We are polyglots. It’s literally in our job description. When we are posted to a foreign country, we are required to speak the language at a certain professional level before departing for post. We are have to be able to diplomat in the language that is spoken in the country.

That is why the Foreign Service Institute teaches so many different languages. I’s be willing to bet that there are some languages that are taught nowhere else in the US other than at FSI. Icelandic is taught in only three colleges in America, for example. And I don’t think that any college offers a course in Estonian. That is completely understandable, of course. There isn’t a high demand for those languages. However, the US has strong diplomatic relations with Iceland and Estonia, and our diplomats have to speak those languages. So the government has to train our diplomats to speak Estonian and Icelandic, as well as Kazakh, Uzbek, Khmer, Pashto, and a bunch of languages in addition to French, German and Spanish.

We have diplomatic relations with 192 of the 195 countries in the world. That doesn’t mean that we have to teach 192 different languages. Many countries speak the same language. For example, French is the official language for 29 countries, and there are ten “Lusophone” countries (I’ll let you look that word up). I heard a colleague once say that if you speak Spanish, then you would meet the language requirement to work in 25% of our embassies and consulates.

Then there are the “boutique” languages, which are spoken only in one country. Some friends of mine have spent nine months learning Thai, Cambodian, or (in my case) Vietnamese. It’s necessary to learn the language in order to do our jobs, but it’s a tremendous investment in time, energy and money. And after we complete our tours in those countries, we aren’t easily able to use the language skill in another tour.

Chinese is only spoken in one country, of course, but it isn’t really a boutique language.  In addition to our embassy in Beijing, we have five consulates in various parts of China, and they all have to be staffed by hundreds of officers. In addition, there are many Chinese-language designated posts outside of China, in places like Toronto, where we have to process a lot of Chinese visa applicants.

And we aren’t just learning conversational language. We have to reach a “professional” proficiency level before we can go abroad. We have to be able to talk about health epidemics, human rights, nuclear non-proliferation, climate change, and the details of American foreign policy. If we can’t do that, if we fail the language test, then we continue studying until we do pass. I personally know several people who have had to extend their language training because they haven’t achieved the required proficiency.

The government gets a good return on its investment. A colleague of mine likes to say that he made $5 million for the government in two years while working in a consulate in Brazil. He was a consular officer, and he interviewed people who applied for a U.S. visa. Just the visa fee alone brought in a tremendous amount of money (foreigners who want a U.S. visa much pay $160 for an application fee, whether or not they are granted a visa), not counting the amount of money the people would have spent in the U.S. on tourism (I have heard that on average, a foreign tourist spends $5,000 per person when visiting the U.S.). For us to be able to facilitate travel to the U.S. is a great economic benefit to the American economy.

Through the course of a career in the foreign service, an officer may learn up to a half-dozen different languages. I was in language class with a colleague who was learning his fourth language for his fourth tour. It’s a pretty amazing experience, to have language learning be a core part of our job description.

Which also brings up the issue of language probation. Remember that language proficiency is a requirement in the foreign service, and that requirement is enforced. New officers are hired on language probation. We have five years to reach advanced proficiency in at least one language. Or else we get fired. As the famous FAM (Foreign Affairs Manual) puts it: “Candidates who fail to satisfy language probation requirements by the end of their five-year limited appointment will be separated from the Service” (emphasis added).

Yes, it’s great to “get paid to learn a foreign language,” as a lot of people put it. I want emphasize that point. For one’s job to be a student is a rare benefit. I remind myself of that fact every day. But there’s a negative side to this as well. It isn’t always like Christmas morning. The government is paying for my tuition, and paying my salary as I learn, because the government expects a return on its investment. The government is paying for my language study because it expects that I learn the language. If an officer spends months in a FSI language course, and doesn’t achieve language proficiency, then he has some explaining to do.

There is some real pressure on us to learn, and to learn well. The State Department needs its foreign service officers to have solid language skills. The U.S. needs its diplomats to be able to conduct foreign affairs without allowing language differences to get in the way. Foreign service officers need to successfully learn foreign languages. That’s my job right now, and that’s what I am getting paid to do.

After over 11 months at the Foreign Service Institute, I am finally done with my training, and am ready to go on to post. Cue the Dance Of Joy!

Most of the training was language training: just over 9 months of full-time instruction in Vietnamese. It was a positive experience overall, but the old saying of “too much of a good thing” is really true. Any activity gets tiresome after too long, and I was ready to be done with language training.

I’m done with training! I can go to post now!

The last part of language training is the infamous “EOT” (“end of training”) test. It’s a language proficiency test, a multi-hour ordeal consisting of reading and speaking sections. If you want more details about the test itself, this link has some general information.

I took the Vietnamese language test on Wednesday. This was the third time I took a language test at FSI (the first two were for Chinese). The format is the same for all languages. There is literally no other way to prepare for this test other than conscientiously learning the language. You can not fake your way through this test. They start out pretty gently, with small talk and chit-chat, and very quickly go into very complicated subjects. You can start out by talking about the weather, and within seconds find yourself having to defend the administration’s policy on addressing climate change. Or ask someone how he’s feeling, then in the very next sentence debate the merits of single-payer health insurance. It gets that intense, that fast.

TL;DR: it’s a very intense language proficiency test.

I felt prepared for the test, but I was still very nervous because I had set a very high goal for myself, and I didn’t know if my language skills were good enough. I walked out of the test feeling the same way that I felt after the first time I took the test: exhausted and drained. They say you should feel that way after a language test, because the testers’ job is to push you to your limits. Their task is to see exactly what your highest level is, and they can only do that by pushing you. It’s sort of like when your dentist has to see if you have a cavity, and the only way he can do that is by digging into your tooth with that curly pointy probe thing. Imagine the linguistic equivalent of that curvy pointy probe, poking into your mind.

How’d you like one of these in your brain? Me, neither.

Long story short (too late)…

…I passed with my desired language score. No cavities, no blood, no tears. Just sweet, sweet relief.

In a future post, I will share my thoughts on long-term language training at FSI. When I have the strength. For now, I am basking in the feeling of being done. Even more, I’m looking forward to getting to post and actually using this language.

The reality is that this job is a lot more like a day in the DMV  than an evening at Downton Abbey.

There is a stereotype of diplomats as “pin-striped cookie pushers from Harvard.” Here’s a good summary of the ways that phrase has been used over the past 50+ years. Most of the time the phrase has been used, it has been in an attempt to dispel the stereotype. However, there is a lingering (false) impression of what we do as foreign service officers.

Some people have the (very wrong) opinion that diplomats don’t do “real” work. We are seen as people who just go to cocktail parties (for the record, I have never been invited to a cocktail party), or sit around drinking tea and eating cookies (OK, that has happened, but I was standing, not sitting, it was very hard work, and there is a very good reason that I did it).

This weekend my wife and I took an elective class on diplomatting according to protocol. The formal name of the course is “Protocol and US Representation Abroad.” The course was a fascinating exploration of protocol. We covered topics such as to how to shake hands (eye contact, firm but not-too-firm grip, two to three pumps, then release). And the physical mechanism of exchanging business cards (and the very important uses of business cards). And how to address government officials at various levels in the hierarchy.

Here’s a quiz: how should you address a US ambassador? True or false: “Your Excellency” is the appropriate form of address for our ambassador. For the answer, refer to “Title of Nobility” clause in Article I, Section 9, Clause 8 of the United States Constitution. Spoiler alert: the correct answer is: “false.”

I know from experience that the so-called “cookie pushing” events (we call them “representational events”) are incredibly useful and efficient. They are a forum where we can make contacts with foreign government counterparts. In one hour, I can meet a dozen or so different people who work in various local government ministries. Later, when I need information to help US citizens in trouble, or figure out a way to work with the local government to further US interests, I know who to contact. Of course, I’m not important enough to make treaties or prevent a war from breaking out. At my level, my task is more likely to be contacting a local university in order to arrange a visa talk for students.

But regardless of the level that this interaction happens, and the consequences that these relationships have on international relations, the principle is the same. We have to know people in order to be effective diplomats. And meeting someone in a social atmosphere is more conducive to forging a good working relationship.

Here is one example of the importance of a good working relationship with a foreign government at the local level. American citizens who are jailed in foreign countries are entitled, under the Vienna Convention, to regular visits by US Consular officers. It’s not hard to imagine that a prison official in a small city in a developing country would not be aware of his obligation, under the Vienna Convention of 1963, to allow us to visit a US citizen in his jail. When we encounter resistance, we can pick up the phone, call the local government official who we invited to a recent representational event, and ask him to make a phone call to the warden of the jail. This happens very often. Because we have an existing relationship with the local government, we can resolve the situation quickly and without unpleasantness, and we can check up on the well-being of the jailed US citizen.

That’s the value of representational events. We make contacts, network with the community, and lay the groundwork for doing our job of serving the American people more efficiently.

A fun part of the class was learning how to plan and host a formal dinner party. Elements of the task included planning the menu, arranging the seating chart,  setting the table, making toasts. During the table setting task, the instructor played the theme song to “Downton Abbey.” I’m not making that up.

I confess that I have not hosted any formal dinner parties yet in my career. My idea of hosting dinner is making a big pot of chili (with plenty of kidney beans), then inviting anyone within shouting distance to come over and help me eat it. But it’s possible that in the future (if I’m ever important enough for it to matter)  I will have to hold a diner like this. I’m not holding my breath, though. It’s a lot more likely that I will be invited to fill a seat for a last-minute cancellation (by someone much more important than I am) to someone else’s party. When/if that happens, I will know enough not to humiliate myself and embarrass the host.

I did this. And now I know what every utensil and glass is for. Do you?

There are a lot of resources for learning the fine points of diplomatic protocol. In fact, you can read our handbook: “Protocol for the Modern Diplomat,” which is available online.

Finally, I want to emphasize that this course is optional for diplomats. The formal dinner party very, very small element of our job, which is to help and support for US citizens  and to further US interests abroad. Sometimes that means eating cookies at a tea party, but most of the time it’s a lot less glamorous. Most of the time it’s a lot more like working for the DMV. This part of the course was just an opportunity to prepare ourselves for the one or two chances that we get every year to interact in a more formal setting.

I’ve been in language training for 30 weeks so far. Eight weeks from now, I will take the “End Of Training” test. That test will give me my official language proficiency score.

Several colleagues who started at the same time as me have already tested. They had to finish language earlier than I do, because their scheduled arrival time at post is different from mine. I get two more months of language training than they got, which is a nice advantage for me. The good news is that they all tested at the required level. And since I have more time in training, I have the chance to attain an even higher level than is required. That would mean some extra money in the form of “language incentive pay.”

The incentive pay is especially attractive to my family, because my as of now, my wife can’t work at the Consulate. The federal hiring freeze affects everyone who wants to work for the federal government, even people who want to work in an embassy or consulate overseas. This development has disrupted our plans. We were counting on my wife being able to work. Not only for the paycheck, but to prevent boredom and stress. We are hoping that the freeze will end soon, but we are also preparing for the worst.

All this means that there’s pressure on me to attain the highest language score possible. I think it’s possible to reach the required score, but I’m not there yet. Luckily, my teachers are great, they know my goals, and are working with me to help me get to my target level. But the onus is on me to put in the time, and do the work. All the linguistic theory, teaching methodology, and language acquisition tricks are useless unless the student puts it to work.

So why am I still writing this blog?! Back to work!