FCS VP Voice

BY JOSHUA BURKE

Out for a jog on a cool autumn day in Chicago several years ago, I came across an empty city lot. With large blocks of century-old concrete, this unbuildable 50-foot stretch in the heart of a neighborhood on the rise had been an abandoned eyesore for decades. Mile after mile, I pondered what could be done with such a prime piece of real estate. Then a quiet thought surfaced: If you can’t build something, grow something.

A few months and 50 neighbors later, our new community garden was thriving. What began with a simple idea blossomed into a shared space where the entire neighborhood could gather. It brought color and warmth to a city that often felt cold and gray. More importantly, it reminded me of how powerful a community can be—especially when resources are scarce and hope feels distant.

I’ve been reflecting on that lesson lately, particularly as our own professional community navigates a season of deep uncertainty.

Forty-five years ago, the first seeds of the modern Foreign Commercial Service (FCS) were planted. While our roots with the Department of Commerce reach back a full century, the Foreign Service Act of 1980 gave us the structure we know today, spinning us off from the State Department to form a distinct, specialized corps.

Within the American business community, there was a growing recognition that commercial interests needed more focused attention, separate from broader foreign policy objectives. Demand from U.S. companies helped jumpstart legislative and executive actions to create a Service that serves business.

This reorganization reflected a strategic shift toward prioritization of commercial interests in U.S. foreign policy, recognizing that a strong economy is integral to national strength and global influence. From the seeds planted then, we now have an officer corps of 230 professionals with business, legal, and private sector backgrounds who understand business and know how to read a company’s 10K and balance sheet.

But our legacy is at risk.

Today, we face mounting budget constraints that are reshaping the way we work. Officers have been asked to extend their overseas tours by an additional year, and all permanent change of station (PCS) travel for this fiscal year has been frozen.

This affects families, educational plans, spouses’ careers, and morale—but because it may save jobs, our corps is bearing it. Behind the scenes, there is increasing concern about potential reductions in force (RIFs), adding more anxiety to an already stretched system.

Now, more than ever, we must commit just as fiercely to nurturing our community.

Concurrently, we’re seeing other agencies, particularly State, push into spaces that have traditionally been part of our core mandate. While interagency collaboration can be powerful, these blurred boundaries raise real questions about how we protect and sustain the U.S. business-focused value FCS brings to the table.

Adding to the uncertainty is the fact that we now have a new administration eager to reimagine our role and to attract and support investors more aggressively. But the reality is that we no longer have the resources to match that ambition. The risk is that our credibility and capacity will erode just when we’re needed most.

So—how do we show up for one another in times like these?

I’ve never once doubted the loyalty or resolve of our corps. But I also know the toll that prolonged uncertainty and institutional strain can take on even the most committed public servants. Our strength as a Service—and as a community—has always come from the people who show up, day after day, to serve. Now, more than ever, we must commit just as fiercely to nurturing our community.

It’s time to tend the garden of our community.

That means focusing not just on programs and challenges but on each other. Checking in. Sharing honestly. Accepting the challenges that we face. We may be a high-performing professional tribe, but even the strongest tribes need care and tending—especially when resources run dry.

Like my neighborhood garden, our community needs regular attention—and occasional pruning—to make room for new growth. I’m concerned that the current, overzealous pruning will result in a diminished harvest of deals for America.

Gardening isn’t glamorous. It’s slow, messy, and sometimes thankless. But if we stick with it, season after season, something new will emerge. FCS gardeners will close deals and create thousands of jobs. Moreover, we will build a community that knows how to care for itself—even in the harshest conditions.

So, let’s start gardening—together.