Saturday, March 8, 2014
By Doyle McManus
LOS ANGELES - Soon, the Syrian government of Bashar Assad will fall. On that day, and for months after, Damascus will probably be a disorderly and dangerous place, a risky place for American diplomats to be.
So who wants to go there? American diplomats, that's who.
"We have to be there," said Ronald Neumann, a former ambassador to Afghanistan. "It's an important place. To understand what's going on and to make sound policy, we will need to be in contact with people on the ground. The alternative is to cede influence to Iran and Hezbollah and other people we're not fond of."
It's not surprising that the State Department panel investigating the death of U.S. Ambassador J. Christopher Stevens in Libya in September concluded that the department's security measures in Benghazi were "grossly inadequate." And it's not surprising that the remedy proposed was to tighten security at every embassy and consulate in harm's way.
What might be surprising are the voices warning that there's such a thing as too much security: the ambassadors themselves -- the men and women who are taking the risks.
U.S. diplomats think that some security restrictions keep them from doing their jobs the way they'd like. They worry that the reaction to Stevens' death has been disproportionate, not only regarding the political question of what the Obama administration said about the incident during the campaign but also the desire to keep diplomats safe at any cost.
"A zero casualty standard isn't achievable in the real world," said Neumann. "You can't advance our national interest and our diplomatic goals if you bottle us up and make us stupid."
He's only one of many former ambassadors who have expressed similar concerns.
"One of the lessons I hope we don't think we learned (from Benghazi) is: Let's retrench ... let's go out less; let's know less," said Ryan Crocker, a former ambassador to Iraq and Afghanistan, who knew Stevens well. "That would be a horrible way to acknowledge Chris' sacrifice."
Several active-duty diplomats told me they agree but were reluctant to be identified because the issue is so sensitive now.
"You can't do the job properly without taking risks," an ambassador who knew Stevens told me. "It's actually a miracle we haven't lost more people."
The life of a U.S. ambassador these days, he said, can be like living in a bubble. Diplomats may spend much of their time in heavily guarded compounds, insulated from the real world by high blast walls. They travel in armored vehicles surrounded by bodyguards. Their opportunities to encounter ordinary people in normal life -- in marketplaces, restaurants or homes -- are almost nonexistent.
Most of those constraints are unavoidable, of course, in a world where terrorist groups would like nothing better than to kidnap or kill U.S. diplomats. Nobody's arguing that risks should be ignored or that security spending should be cut.
So what are these danger-hungry diplomats asking for? The leeway to make their own decisions -- including the freedom to make mistakes now and then.
"It's important that people on the ground make these decisions, and that we live with the decisions even when they go bad," said Neumann, who noted that he carried a pistol in the 1980s as a diplomat in Yemen -- no bodyguards in those days.
The panel noted that Stevens decided to leave the embassy in Tripoli to go to Benghazi, even though he'd reported to Washington that the city was plagued by a "security vacuum."
"His status as the leading U.S. government advocate on Libya policy and his expertise on Benghazi in particular caused Washington to give unusual deference to his judgments," the panel reported.
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