Running Amok: Mental Health in the U.S. Foreign Service



Yet Another Effete Diplomat on the Cocktail Circuit

Ship me somewhere's east of Suez, where the best is like the worst.
Where there aren't no ten commandments, an' a man can raise a thirst.
           ~ Rudyard Kipling, Mandalay

Amok
In the second year of my Foreign Service career, I was assigned to Vientiane, Laos.  My deployment was accelerated by my predecessor's seeking and being granted a one-year curtailment of his tour of duty because he was going bonkers.  Moreover, an admin officer had to be removed in a straitjacket after holing himself up in his house and smearing the walls with his own feces, another victim of mental and emotional stress.  I, on the other hand, thrived at this isolated outpost, our only one in Indochina five years following the fall of Saigon.  The setting was a cross between "Heart of Darkness" and "Casablanca."  My seizure at gunpoint and brief incarceration by the authorities, which prompted a diplomatic row, was just one of the pressures at this surreal place.  Years later, in civil war-torn Cambodia, the State Dept. regularly sent a psychiatrist to post to measure our stress levels amid coup attempts, assassinations, 12-14-hour work days seven days a week and an unhinged ambassador.  At another embassy, one of our largest, the Secretary of State discreetly sent out two senior officials to gently pry our prominent career ambassador out of his job in the wake of his increasingly bizarre behavior, including public denunciations of an American ally.

PTSD on the Rise
There is a popular perception of diplomats as wan angora-stroking effetes whose greatest challenge of the day is cocktails at the tennis club.  This couldn't be farther from the truth.  The stress of serving in isolated poverty-ridden countries and war zones can be tremendous.  Family members are not allowed at many of these posts, resulting in so-called unaccompanied tours.  Children are sometimes required to be separated from parents and placed in overseas boarding schools.

In recent years, the number of Foreign Service personnel medevacced for mental health reasons has doubled.  One study revealed 15 percent of FS members suffered from PTSD.  A similar study done by the Defense Dept. found that 17 percent of soldiers returned from Iraq and Afghanistan suffered from the same condition.  As the U.S. has gotten involved in more overseas conflicts, the pressures on our diplomats have compounded.

A particularly sad case was documented in the September 2010 issue of the Foreign Service Journal.  A former military officer and tsunami survivor, this FSO was assigned to one of the most dangerous war zones six years into his State Dept. career.  He worked 12-14-hour days amid gun and mortar fire.  After being injured in a roadside bomb attack, a State Dept. psychiatrist prescribed an antidepressant for his PTSD.  But the medication caused lack of sleep, loss of appetite and high blood pressure.  When he complained about the side effects, he was prescribed a different antidepressant.  But the side effects continued and he was evacuated from post and placed in psychiatric hospitalization in Washington.  State Dept's MED office failed to provide him with a doctor proficient in treating PTSD, so he found one on his own.  He was told he could not return to post.  Further treatment did not resolve his problem and he was medevacced again from another post.  He lives in Washington, separated from his wife, and essentially grounded for medical reasons.  His career prospects don't look good.  This officer is convinced that, had he received better treatment, his current situation could have been avoided.

Mental Health Treatment Can Be Bad for Your Career
The growing concern in the Foreign Service ranks over mental health problems prompted Secretary Clinton to assure employees that they can and should seek treatment by State Dept. medical professionals with no worry that it would impact negatively on their careers.  But a loose grouping of FS professionals calling themselves Concerned Foreign Service Officers has strongly urged U.S. diplomats to seek needed psychiatric help from private practitioners rather than from State Dept. doctors.  "CFSO has seen numerous cases where even allegations of mental health issues, ranging from PTSD to depression to marital discord to stress-related substance abuse have been referred by M/MED to Diplomatic Security (DS), usually resulting in recommendations to revoke a clearance."  In other words, if you seek treatment for a mental health issue, you risk losing your security clearances, which is definitely a career-killer.  The upshot?  Those with PTSD, substance abuse issues, depression, etc. refusing to seek treatment for fear it would stifle their career. 

The Best is Like the Worst
A Foreign Service career is not for the faint of heart.  The threat of terrorism, disease, isolation and sheer mental exhaustion is prevalent.  And as we shift more human resources to places like Afghanistan and Iraq, as well as Africa, the Middle East and other troubled areas, the greater the stress on American envoys.  Cocktails at the tennis club?  Sorry, I've got a war to cover.

On Spies, Counterspies, Would-be Spies and Just Plain Losers - Part II: An Open Letter to Anna Chapman

Dear Anya Vasilyevna Kushchyenko Chapman,

We miss you.  We miss your Clairoled red hair splashing color across our TV screens during our drab gray recession.  We miss your sassy smile and accounts of your escapades clubbing around Manhattan.  We miss reading about your Boris & Natasha espionage exploits as the FBI was on to you from the moment you stepped on American soil.  We miss your trendy outfits, especially the gray one that makes you look like a toy soldier.  We miss revelations on how you wrapped libidinous, social climbing NYC male nobodies around your little Salon 25-manicured finger.  If Woody Allen were to make a spy spoof, you would be a natural for the female lead.

But, alas, you can't return to the Big Apple, though your attorney revealed you dearly wanted to.  What?  Can't get a decent apple martini in Moscow?  Poor thing.  Not only are you blacklisted here, but the British government revoked the UK citizenship you acquired from your ten-minute marriage to that loud-mouthed English nerd.  That scotched your plans to resettle in that country as well.

What's wrong, Anna?  Is life so terrible in Mother Russia?  Tired already of inaugurating tractor factories and addressing klatsches of pimple-faced Youth Guard drones in Stalinist auditoriums?  We all can empathize with you on this.  I guess an American version of your particular corner of hell might be volunteering at Lions Club potluck dinners night after night without end.  Our hearts go out to you.

But Comrade Putin has pinned medals on you and trotted you out like some legendary race horse.  You're a media star in your own country!  What more can you want?  What's that?  The apple martinis at Table 50?  Oh yeah.  Much better than a stiff Stoli at the workmen's hall of Tractor Factory #58.

"We must transform the future, starting with ourselves," you told that group of Youth Guard drones not long ago.  Seriously Anna, I think you need a new complete makeover.  Let's start with your spy tradecraft.  Sending messages through a dedicated network from your perch at Starbucks in lower Manhattan to your spy handler as he fought New York traffic in a boxy van with Russian dip plates -- as the FBI intercepted everything -- was a scream.  Will you let Woody put that one in his movie?  And your writing "99 Fake St." for your home address on the invoice (also intercepted by the FBI) of the cell phone you purchased to make an urgent call (also intercepted) to your KGB/SVR father in Moscow to seek guidance concerning the phony passport you naively accepted from an FBI agent posing as a Russian spy -- well, Woody is rolling on the floor in uncontrollable laughter over that one.

Next, we simply must stop this femme fatale nonsense.  Let's face it.  You have a dental hygienist's face grafted onto a thirteen-year old's corpus.  If you learned one thing in your aborted stay in NY, it's Madison Avenue-style branding and packaging.  But I, frankly, have seen sexier babes at church basement pie sales.  And, shame on your spy-dad and mystery-mom for letting you strut your stuff on the cover of Maxim and Tractor Factory #58's Annual Calendar.  Just more of today's lax parenting, I guess.

BTW, what was it that the SVR tasked you and those ten other clowns with stealing in NY?  Inside dope on Wall Street?  Whoa!  Did the FBI ever do Mother Russia a favor here!  Think of it.  Transplanting the same criminal financial chicanery that brought down a superpower onto an economy the size of that of Los Angeles.  Tractor Factory #58 would definitely be shuttered and your cover girl mags and calendars would be used as fuel to warm the hands of the homeless unemployed.  You guys owe us one.

So, let the brown tresses reappear, Anna; wear something befitting a woman on the cusp of 30 and take a course in dental hygiene.  Russians could use some better dentistry.


P.S.  To keep up with the hottest clubs in New York, log on to NBC's Saturday Night Live, which you no doubt miss, for the city's "cultural consultant," Stefon -- "the hottest club in New York is 'Slash' . . ."

Also see --
Another Open Letter to Anna Chapman
Another Message to Anna Chapman: Never Mind!
The Anna Chapman Saga Continues: Not Again! More Russian Spies Arrested

Why I'm Censored

"Congress shall make no law. . .abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press."

"Where art thou, Faustus? Wretch, what hast thou done?

Damn'd art thou, Faustus, damn'd!"

A Pact With the Devil

When I signed up as a Foreign Service officer of the United States and again when I signed out twenty-three years later, I had to agree in writing to official censorship of anything I wrote prior to publication, and all public speaking before presentation. Thus, unlike the rest of the American population, I do not enjoy the full freedoms of expression covered in the Constitution. Alas, I made a faustian pact with Uncle Sam, who owns the creative part of my soul unto death. In return, he paid me to travel and live in exotic lands, gave me fancy titles, provided me with adventure and even romance sometimes, and made me privy to the innermost secrets of state. And he protects the latter zealously.

Where's G. Gordon Liddy When We Need Him?

Uncle Sam hates leaks. But like the enchanted broom in Disney's Fantasia, he scrambles from pillar to post trying to stem a veritable torrent of secrets, exposés, scandals and slips. And, like the sorcerer's apprentice, he finds it to be overwhelming and largely futile. Witness the case of Wikileaks. The worst offenders, ironically, are rarely the career lifers like myself, but rather those who direct the beast from within its belly: the political appointees who spin, smear and self-promote as a matter of course; those for whom the rules don't really apply, even when they're caught. And when they are, a sacrificial lamb is thrown to the wolves to protect the higher-ups: viz., Oliver North, Lewis Libby. Karl Rove and Dick Cheney outed CIA undercover officer Valerie Plame, yet never spent a minute in court to answer for their crimes.

In my time in the State Department, this kind of thing happened all the time at various levels. As I noted earlier with Cuba, the head White House honcho for Latin America had been spewing secrets to the media and to an uncleared senator. When I worked on Afghanistan, a political appointee at the NSC regularly leaked sensitive policy decisions before the SECRET stamp ink was dry. The Washington Post sometimes reported these revelations before the government rank and file was informed. And when working on a White House program that was so secret that we who worked in it had to agree to have our phone conversations monitored and to travel under aliases, leaks from inside the White House made us scramble to cover the potential damage.

Valerie Plame & Me

My book manuscripts must undergo government security review before I can even show them to a book agent or a publisher. Those I published before 2000 were cleared quickly and with little interference from the censors. The Bush-2 administration, however, tightened the process up greatly. It took almost six months to get clearance for my latest novel, "Tribe." Upon completion of the manuscript, I phoned State to ask to whom I should send it. In return, they faxed me a letter stating, "Everything you write will be considered classified until cleared by this office."

Four agencies of the Federal government needed to have a crack at it. A large intelligence agency had "problems" with it. Worse, so did a major law enforcement agency. The intel agency objected to my description of a well-known training facility. I emailed them links to a Wikipedia article on it as well as commercially produced overhead satellite photography of it; I added transcripts of books which have pages of detailed information on it. The intel agency held its ground and posed additional objections to other elements in my book. Then the law enforcement agency declared they had problems as well. But they refused to reveal what they were, opting instead to stonewall and leave me hanging. Eventually, I managed to negotiate mutually acceptable changes with everybody, but a valuable half-year had passed, leaving several literary agents wanting to see the manuscript cooling their heels.

My work-in-progress, a spy tale about Cuba, will keep a small army of green-eye-shaders busy most likely for another six months. Despite my cribbing of espionage tradecraft techniques from open sources, I'm sure my manuscript will drive the censors to apoplexy, dyspepsia, tachycardia and a host of other conditions based on Greek-derived medical terms. I confess that I do self-censor somewhat more than I have previously, careful to avoid too much detail about secret stuff. Nonetheless pushing the envelope, as well as the buttons of those in authority, has always been in my nature. A writer, after all, must be honest with himself.

To Uncle Sam, With Love

Here's a message from yours truly to Uncle Sam: I'm no danger to our national security. I play by the rules. I'm proud to have served my country loyally. I promise I'll take the real secrets I know to my grave -- and you can monitor my mortal remains for preternatural communications with unauthorized celestial beings, if you wish. Just let me write my books and get them published before the time comes for me to buy long-term care insurance. Please.

(See also More on Censorship: Don't Mess With "The Man" - Two Case Studies)

"CHASM" Lands on Another Bestseller List: Monsters in Our Midst

My thriller CHASM, about war criminals on the loose, just climbed to three Amazon Kindle bestseller lists -- "Political Fiction and Literature," "Political Fiction" and "Spy Tales."  CHASM joins its sister thriller PERMANENT INTERESTS on these lists. Readers like my stuff. I must be doing something right.

I always anchor my fiction in "verisimilitude" which the dictionary defines as "the appearance of being true or real." I take real places, organizations and events and populate them with my fictional characters and let them play out their lives, dreams, dreads and fears. Do I feel god-like doing this? You bet.


Von Braun with Nazi Officers


CHASM is inspired by Operation Paperclip, a covert program to resettle useful Nazis in this country which went on until 1973. The "father of the U.S. space program," Wernher von Braun, was just the most prominent among many Paperclip beneficiaries. Von Braun's team built and launched V-1s and V-2s against Britain during WWII. He was also an officer in Hitler's notorious SS who utilized slave labor at his rocket facilities. My fictitious Operation CHASM imports Balkan war criminals into the U.S. for political purposes.  And they wreak havoc.



Bishop:  Age 39

 People often ask if some of my characters are based on real people. Usually I can answer in the affirmative, but won't name names, either for fear of lawsuits, or out of respect. Then, of course, the lawyers require us to include the boilerplate disavowal - any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I'll make no bones about it. The character in CHASM called William Winford Ferret is based wholecloth on William Bradford Bishop. Bishop was a Foreign Service officer who, upon arriving back home from his State Department job on March 1, 1976, methodically bludgeoned to death his mother, his wife and their three sons, aged 5, 10 and 14. He then loaded their bodies into the back of the family station wagon and drove 275 miles to the Great Smokey Mountains of North Carolina where he dug a trench into which he dumped the corpses, poured gasoline on them and attempted to burn them.

Bishop then disappeared. He's never been caught. He has been sighted over the years in Europe, but has successfully eluded his pursuers. He has been featured on America's Most Wanted. A former Army intelligence officer fluent in five languages, Bishop has the skills to cross borders and blend into foreign societies without being noticed.

I've followed this case over the years and combed through the official databases for information on him when I still worked in the government. Such evil should not escape justice. If still living, Bishop would be 74 years old.

I've always hoped that my novel CHASM came to Bishop's attention and that he read it. In doing so, I've hoped in my fantasy that his confrontation with himself in the form of the character William Ferret would drive home the evil that he is. I've hoped that Bishop would get angry with me for making fodder of his character, such as it is, that he would vent himself in a way that would give away his whereabouts. But I fear my hopes are mere dreams, that Bishop has lived out his life, or will live it out, peacefully, his conscience unfettered by his pitiless murder of his family.


Bishop:  Age-enhanced - 74


I tried to delve into Bishop's twisted soul, his final days with his wife and kids. His story plays out in the context of a sort of witness protection program for foreign war criminals. It could be real, even though my government censors let it go. If you read CHASM, don't do so just before bedtime. You won't sleep. I promise.

The American Diplomatic Spoils System: Embassies for Sale

A Foreign Service career takes the guts out of people. ~ Ambassador Evan Galbraith, political appointee

The Spoils System
An often told story in the State Department has it that former ambssador to Moscow John Matlock was a guest on a U.S. aircraft carrier in the Persian Gulf some years ago.  The admiral who hosted him remarked that after he retired, he was thinking of getting himself appointed as an ambassador somewhere.  Matlock reportedly rejoined that after retiring he was thinking of getting himself named as an admiral in charge of an aircraft carrier.  "But it takes decades of training and highly specialized knowledge to run an aircraft carrier," the astonished Navy man replied.  "So does running an embassy," Matlock shot back.

The United States is the only industrialized country to sell its ambassadorships to the highest bidders in an outmoded diplomatic spoils system that rivals any such corruption in any banana republic, dictatorship or two-bit monarchy.  Military flag officer positions were similarly sold up until the end of the civil war when the public recoiled at the extent of needless slaughter brought on by incompetent politically appointed generals like Daniel Sickles, whose insubordination at the Battle of Gettysburg caused over 4,000 Union casualties.  Congress outlawed the practice of military patronage.  But ambassadorships continue to be available to any monied dolt with party connections.

Rogue's Gallery
In an earlier post ("Love, Romance & Sex in the U.S. Foreign Service - Part I: Of Lust & Loneliness"), I suggested that someone needs to collect 200 years of lore on the idiots who are allowed to buy United States ambassadorships. I haven't done that, but here is just a sampling of some of the most memorable idiots and their disservice to their country: 

• Joseph Kennedy, a major donor to Democrats in the 1930s and President Franklin Roosevelt’s ambassador to Britain, resigned in disgrace after proclaiming democracy “finished in England” in the wake of Adolf Hitler’s early victories in WWII. Another Roosevelt appointee, wealthy financier Bernard Baruch's brother, caused sex scandals while serving as ambassador to Portugal and again when he was transferred to the Netherlands.

In fact, ambassadorial sexcapades feature prominently among this crowd --

• Former U.S. Ambassador to Norway Mark Evans Austad, an outspoken former Mormon missionary who hurled verbal attacks against a variety of Norwegian liberal institutions as well as the press was taken by police at a house where he was bellowing loudly and banging on a woman's door at 3 a.m. Austad claimed that, after hosting a cocktail party, he headed to a friend's house "to plan a salmon fishing trip," and the taxi had taken him to the wrong address. The police returned Austad to his residence.
• Joseph Zappala, a wealthy Florida developer and fundraiser for President George H.W. Bush, was appointed ambassador to Spain despite his inability to speak Spanish. Zappala's tour in Madrid was marred when he took up with another woman, ending his 30-year marriage. "This guy's roaming eye for the Spanish ladies became very embarrassing for us in the career Foreign Service," said someone who served in Madrid under Zappala.

Otherwise, many incompetent politically appointed ambassadors distinguish themselves by mere public embarrassments and varying levels of damage to U.S. foreign policy --

• In the late 1980s, our ambassador to Italy was an Italian-American lumber baron from Minnesota, Pete Secchia. Having donated generously to his party, Secchia got the job, though he possessed no diplomatic or related experience. An otherwise gregarious sort, he was at sea in Rome. He used one of the most sensitive communications channels, normally reserved for matters of high policy, to update the Secretary of State on his project to remodel Villa Taverna, the U.S. ambassador's residence, including one lengthy cable on his selection of curtains. He was also fond of telling demeaning Italian jokes before crowds of host country officials and journalists, an act that endeared neither him nor the United States to the Italian public.  
• Jimmy Carter's ambassador to Singapore, a former South Dakota state legislator, walked off with the ambassadorial china upon completion of his unremarkable assignment. Upon being asked to return the expensive, eagle-embossed dinnerware, our ambassador refused, stating it was his just reward for having been an ambassador.  
•  And then there's the peculiar case of William A. Wilson, Ronald Reagan's friend and the first U.S. ambassador to the Vatican. In January of 1986, Wilson embarked on an unauthorized diplomatic mission to Libya and secretly met with Libyan strongman Muammar Gaddafi in an effort to open relations between the two countries. Secretary of State George Shultz officially reprimanded Wilson.  
• Evan Galbraith, a wealthy non-French-speaking investment banker who served as Reagan's first ambassador to France, may have set a record by receiving four formal protests from the French foreign ministry, the last for an interview he gave in 1985 in which he slammed the government of President Francois Mitterrand for inviting Communist ministers in his Cabinet and in which he enthusiastically predicted that the ruling Socialist Party would go down in defeat in the upcoming French elections.  Not exactly a team player, Galbraith, too, was publicly rebuked by Shultz for stating that a Foreign Service career "takes the guts out of people."  
• Another potential trap for inexperienced diplomats is "clientitis," or identifying too closely with the host country while losing sight of U.S. policy interests.  An egregious example of "going native" was U.S. Ambassador to Romania James Rosapepe, a Clinton appointee who came under fire in a report by the State Department's inspector general.  The report charged Rosapepe with failing to inform Washington of developments in Romania, becoming too identified with Romanian policies, exercising poor judgment by including Romanian nationals in embassy meetings, and by excluding U.S. diplomats from high-level meetings with Romanian leaders.  Rosapepe's information was so biased that "we really have no idea what is going on there," the inspector general's report stated. 
• Likewise, many prominent socialites are frequently named to plush postings such as Barbados, which welcomed real estate heiress Joy Silverman — a Bush Sr. appointee who lacked a college degree — and U.S. Ambassador Mary Ourisman — a Bush Jr. appointee and Texas-born socialite and wife of a prominent Washington automobile dealer. 
• Perhaps the most embarrassing and needlessly self-inflicted ambassadorial political appointment was that of California hotel magnate Larry Lawrence as President Clinton's envoy to Switzerland.  At the time of his nomination, Lawrence had more than two dozen cases pending against him in federal tax court, prompting the American Foreign Service Association to issue an unusual and unsuccessful demand that he not be confirmed.  Lawrence died in 1996 and received a waiver to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery based on his claim of having been wounded during WWII while serving in the Merchant Marines.  Later, it was discovered that he never served in the Merchant Marines and that much of the rest of his life story was also fabricated.  Ultimately, his body was exhumed and reburied in San Diego, and the Justice Department launched an investigation into how the State Department and White House failed to catch Lawrence's many lies during his background check.

Obama's Dilettantes
As with many newly elected presidents of an idealistic bent, Barack Obama stated that he would place more emphasis on appointing career dipomats to ambassadorial posts.  In his first six months, Obama sent to the Senate 58 ambassadorial nominations.  Of those 32, or 55 percent, were political appointees.  In the same time period, his five predecessors made more nominations — an average of 67 — but the number of those who were political was lower at 47 percent.  Oh, well.

Following is just a partial roster of the neophytes Obama has sent to top diplomatic postings in return for large payoffs in the form of "bundled" campaign contributions that circumvent the spirit, if not the letter, of campaign finance laws:

•  John Roos for Japan. Roos is a California lawyer and campaign fundraiser, raising at least $500,000 for Obama's campaign; moreover, he and his immediate family gave $41,600 in campaign contributions, including $4,600 to Obama.
• Louis Susman, for the United Kingdom.  A former Citigroup VP who raised at least $100,000 as an Obama bundler, he and his family contributed $239,917 to Democratic campaigns, including more than $4,000 to Obama.  He also contributed $50,000 for Obama's inauguration. 
• Charles Rivkin, for France.  A former financial analyst at Salomon Brothers, he raised more than $500,000 for Obama and contributed $4,600 each to Obama's and Clinton's campaigns.   
• Laurie Fulton, for Denmark.  A corporate lawyer who runs a California entertainment company, she raised between $100,000 to $200,000 for Obama and contributed $4,100 to Obama's campaign.

Marie Antoinette of the Ardennes:  The Terrible Cynthia Stroum

Poor little Grand Duchy of Luxembourg.  Considered a throw-away country by the White House, this Rhode Island-sized NATO ally has always been the dumping ground for the flightiest of politically appointed U.S. ambassadors.  Real estate magnates without a cause.  Airhead socialites without a clue about foreign policy.  Connected car salesmen who want to play Statesman for a couple of years.  The Luxembourgeois have seen them come and go.  Unlike our political leadership, these proud folks do not view themselves as marionettes in a toy fairytale land.  They participated in the D-Day invasion and were a founding member of both the UN and the EU.  They grudgingly tolerate the idiots we send as our envoys while getting the real business done through our professional diplomats and directly in Washington.

In 2009, President Obama sent as his ambassador Cynthia Stroum, a wealthy Seattle investor who raised $500,000 for Obama, putting her near the top of the campaign's rainmakers.  That's $1 for every Luxembourg citizen.

She abruptly resigned one year later, just after the State Department's inspector general issued a blistering report stating the embassy "has underperformed for the entirety of the current ambassador's tenure."  The report went on to describe the ambassador's managerial style as fraught with personality conflicts, verbal abuse and questionable expenditures on travel and booze.  "At present, due to internal problems, it plays no significant role in policy advocacy or reporting, though developments in Luxembourg are certainly of interest to Washington clients and other U.S. missions in the NATO and EU communities."

Ambassador Stroum had so terrorized her small staff that the inspector general recommended the State Department dispatch medical personnel to examine the stress levels of embassy employees.  It noted at least four quit or sought transfers to Iraq and Afghanistan during her tenure, rare actions for diplomats at a cushy European post.

"The bulk of the mission's internal problems are linked to her leadership deficiencies, the most damaging of which is an abusive management style," the report said.  "She has followed a pattern of public criticism of colleagues, including (deputies), who have not performed to her satisfaction . . . Those who have questioned or challenged some of the ambassador's actions state that they have paid a heavy price in the form of verbal abuse and been threatened with dismissal," it said.

Shortly after her arrival, Stroum stressed "the importance she attaches to the perquisites of" being an ambassador. She was particularly concerned about the state of the ambassador's residence, then under renovation, it said.  To locate temporary housing for her, an embassy officer spent six weeks searching for a suitable abode, investigating 200 properties.  Only four met the ambassador's requirements and she rejected them all, according to the report, before an acceptable residence finally was found.

In violation of the regs, Stroum spent $2,400 of embassy funds to fly with an aide to a Swiss "professional school" which has sent graduates to work at Buckingham Palace to interview candidates to replace a retired property caretaker and a fired chef.  The trip was disguised as "management meetings."

The embassy purchased $3,400 in wine and liquor a day before the 2010 budget year ended, another violation of the rules.  The embassy paid for the purchase of a new ambassadorial bed because Stroum "preferred a queen bed to the king-size bed already provided."

Fleshpots and Backwaters
Transgressions by noncareer ambassadors include cocaine smuggling using diplomatic pouches, drunken imbroglios at embassy functions, embarrassing adulterous affairs, and simple ineptitude.  The above cases represent a mere random sampling and fraction of the incompetence and embarrassment brought on by the diplomatic spoils system.

The upshot is that the attractive and important posts of Europe, Asia and the Caribbean are sold to moneybag charlatans, leaving malarial war zones and forgotten backwaters to the career people. What's most pathetic is the lengths to which career FSOs fight over these scraps.  Men and women who would make oustanding envoys to Berlin, Tokyo and Ottawa battle like junkyard dogs to be named ambassador to Lower Slobovia.

This is not to say that all career Foreign Service officers make good managers.  In fact, most are not.  The Department lore is rife with tales, past and present, of so-called "super political officers" who can name every member of Kirgyzstan's government cabinet but who couldn't, as recounted about former Iraq czar Paul Bremer, "organize a two-car funeral."  I could list here many more cases of career officers who were as damaging, incompetent, crazy and clueless as any political appointee.  I'm thinking of devoting a separate blog entry to that subject (see "Why I Write" for a couple of examples).  But a person with years of relevant training and experience certainly wins hands-down over the dilettante.

Administrations use a variety of excuses to masquerade the practice of selling ambassadorships, the most common one being that an envoy who enjoys direct access to the President can be the most effective. This is utter hogwash. Ambassadors' chain of command goes through the Secretary of State.  Going outside of that chain is cause for confusion and misunderstandings and is actually frowned upon by White House and State Department officials alike.

Guts
As for a Foreign Service career "taking the guts out of people," apparently Ambassador Galbraith was unaware of the (now) 230 U.S. diplomats who have given their lives in the line of duty, including Terrence L. Barnich who was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq on Memorial Day 2009.  All 230 names are prominently displayed on memorial plaques in the Department's main entrance; hard to miss as one enters the building.

But. . . yes.  You too can become a United States ambassador!  The American Dream can be yours -- with a bag of swag and the proper arse-kissing.

If you have served with or under a politically appointed ambassador or other State Department official and would like to share your experiences, please leave a comment after this blog entry or on my Facebook page.

See also:

The American Diplomatic Spoils System, Part II