The Foreign Service Journal, May 2023

THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL | MAY 2023 39 did Soviet amateur photographers not have access to a store that could print their photos, they had to mix their own darkroom chemicals. In Novosibirsk, I was asked to explain in detail the 12-step process by which an image becomes a print in a Polaroid camera. At every photo stand I worked on, there was a hunger for that kind of detailed information. At one point I asked a visitor why he was asking so many technical ques- tions. He said that it was his impres- sion that in America we all swam in this vast sea of available information and wide-ranging opinions, and that we took it all for granted. In the USSR, he explained, information was rare and precious, and he was always hungry for more. Every USIA exhibit was a spectacular and compelling display that got across the message that America was a pretty amazing place. I certainly didn’t dispute that, but I decided early on that I also wanted to be honest and engage with visitors on some of the more difficult aspects of living in a relatively free and open society. I talked about race issues. I talked about gun violence. I talked about some of the disadvantages of an agricultural system that did a phenomenal job of trucking produce vast distances, but bred tomatoes and other fruits and vegetables that were sturdier than they were tasty. I often had repeat visitors. One time a young man who had come to my stand on a number of occasions called out from the back of the crowd: “Every day you criticize your country, and the next day you are still here. We are so impressed!” I had gone out of my way to be honest and truthful about the pros and cons of life in America and to not just spout propa- ganda. It was pretty ironic that my candor turned out to be some powerful propaganda, at least to that young man. Over the decades, the USIA exhibits were a feast for the senses and a source of valuable information. Wonderful as the exhibits were, there was no doubt that the Russian- speaking American guides were a major draw and were very effective at building bonds with the millions of Soviet citizens who came to the exhibits. In my view, these interac- tions were not only transformative for the visitors but for the American guides, as well. Back then Americans didn’t have a lot of opportunities to meet citizens of the USSR face to face. It was certainly a powerful and moving experience for me to get to make real connections with the exhibit visitors, and those memories have stayed with me for more than 50 years. I worked as a guide in the time before the World Wide Web, when information (and disinformation) was not as acces- sible as it is now. Even though it is a very different world today, I believe that the power of those face-to-face connections has not diminished. It may no longer be practical to resurrect traveling exhibits, but I do hope that in the future there will be more opportunities for cultural exchanges between the people of our two countries, as challenging as that appears to be now. Kathleen Rose worked on a U.S./USSR net assessment project at the Tempo Center for Advanced Studies, before joining the Photography USA exhibit in 1977. After returning from the exhibit, she worked as an interpreter for Soviet groups visiting Washington, D.C., as well as interpreting for Russian visitors at the Smithsonian, the Folklife Festival, the National Gallery of Art, and several educa- tional organizations. In addition, she resumed teaching yoga at a number of government and private venues around the Washington area until she and her husband, Paul Schoellhamer (who accompa- nied her when she was an exhibit guide), moved back to California in 2007. Since 2007, they have run an organic avocado farm. It was pretty ironic that my candor turned out to be some powerful propaganda. Kathleen Rose (center) on the Polaroid stand with future FSO Kaara Ettesvold (to Rose’s right, engaging with visitors) in Novosibirsk, 1977. PAULSCHOELLHAMER