OBSERVING THE MIDDLE COURSE

Since the days of the Mediferranean "world" when it was no unusual occurrence, as Pliny indicates, to have envoys returned from Parthia or some other district on the outer rim, without their tongues ambassadors have enjoyed an unenviable reputation. Today it is no longer customary to cut out tongues, under ordinary circumstances; but the Ricei-Watson incident of last week, officially termed "closed" yesterday, shows how difficult it is for an ambassador to do his diplomatic balancing act without drawing down hostile criticism. He either says too much or too little, and whatever he says is twisted to mean anything under the sun.

This is particularly true here in the United States, where anybody's business is everybody's, and the free and constant expression of public opinion on every conceivable question, is a sore tempiation to foreign ambassadors. Public opinion, when properly guided, sways everything before it in this country, yet its force is swayed by cross rumors and expressions of personal views. There is no censorship of the press and everybody reads and criticizes. What one paper will not print another will, and anyone with anything important or sensational to say sooner or later finds himself with an audience. Nolens, volens, ambassadors as representatives of foreign opinion are swept into the stream.

This very power of the press leads to the exploitation of anything out of the ordinary. A foreigner with a bent for witty remarks becomes a tradition. He is quoted everywhere and his remarks are interpreted as penetrating and profound. This cannot help turning most men's heads. Wu-Ting-Fang discovered that his slightest utterance, even when seriously intended, caused Americans to burst into laughter. Everything he said was considered droll, subtle, or Oriental. In consequence, he said a great deal, taking a hand in politics, and communicating directly with members of Congress. When the State Department hinted that his actions were, to put it mildly, irregular, he blandly expressed his unfortunate inability to understand Western affairs and was invariably excused.

But any such taking advantage of personal popularity, is playing with dynamite. Cornwallis-West's unfortunate speech in the Cleveland campaign reacted against the British ambassador to such an extent that Cleveland was elected to the slogan: "No North, no South, no East, no Cornwallis-West!" Propaganda, a very vague term, is quickly laid at the door of the foreign envoy, and public opinion like a Frankenstein turns without warning upon anyone who has tried to direct it.