The Foreign Service Journal, June 2013

38 JUNE 2013 | the foreign Service journal Diplomacy or Directness? If work in international diplomacy had a hand in influenc- ing African-American discussions of who was authorized to speak for the race, then a second discussion arose concern- ing the methods that those representatives ought to use. W.E.B. Du Bois powerfully weighed in on this question in his 1903 essay collection, The Souls of Black Folk . Balking at the idea that African-American citizens could expect to improve American racial conditions through rhetorical “diplomacy and suaveness,” Du Bois declared that black race representa- tives should “state plainly and unequivocally the legitimate demands of their people.” Some of his peers dismissed the value of direct protests, however. James Weldon Johnson maintained that African- Americans could change their status in the United States through “a demonstration of intellectual parity by the Negro through the production of literature and art.” In fact, Johnson’s literary and diplomatic work was inter- twined. In Latin America, he wrote poetry that seemed to sup- port the United States’ orchestration of revolutions in Nicara- gua. “Tropical constitutions / Call for occasional revolutions,” wrote Johnson, drawing attention away from the United States’ role in orchestrating these revolutions and instead using a pun (“constitutions”) to suggest that the root of recurrent Latin American revolutions could be located either in local modes of government or in the very nature of the residents of these tropical lands. Johnson also used indirect tactics in his 1912 novel, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man . In this work, the narra- tor rails against the United States for permitting the lynching of African-Americans in the South. At first glance, this facet of the novel makes the book look as if it were wholly inspired by Du Bois’ cry against “diplomacy and suaveness.” But Johnson believed he could best be a missionary for the race by continu- ing to work for the State Department. And, apparently to avoid upsetting white Americans at home (which could possibly lead to his recall), he published his novel anonymously. As a fam- ily friend and biographer observed, Johnson “felt a diplomat should not affix his name to so controversial a book.” Shortly after the novel’s publication, Johnson resigned from his post because of disagreements with, and apparent pressure from, the new Woodrow Wilson administration. He later became a major figure of the Harlem Renaissance, not only republishing his novel in 1927 but also affixing his name to it. Yet he continued to be known for tact and diplomacy in advancing the cause of African-Americans, an approach he had honed while serving his country overseas two decades earlier. Diplomatic Representation in Africa, Literary Representation of Africa Commenting on the racial politics of the early 20th-century State Department’s appointment practices, Langston Hughes once spoke cynically of the United States’ preference for sending black men “to any little old colored country.” Clearly Hughes was not dismissing the importance of nations and colonies of color. Rather, his cynicism stemmed from what he (though a diplomatic outsider) identified as an early 20th- century State Department culture that harbored biases against black nations and colonies, as well as against the black repre- sentatives it sent to these locales. The case of George Washington Ellis (secretary of the United States’ Liberian legation, 1902–1910) illustrates some of these racial difficulties. Over the course of a few years, Ellis grew tired of his unchallenging work at the legation and put in repeated requests for transfers, sometimes threatening to resign if his requests were not granted. In discussing Ellis’s case with the Bureau of Appointments, Assistant Secretary of State Robert Bacon saw that Ellis either needed to be trans- ferred or permitted to resign. Yet, appallingly, he wondered: “Would [Ellis] be better than some new coon?” In a powerfully disappointing way, Bacon’s words point to a derisive disregard for the State Department’s black personnel, as well as for nations and colonies with predominantly black populations. Bacon’s words project an image not of interna- tional representation but of international misrepresentation. His chosen racial slur framed American relationships with nations and colonies of color in terms of the degrading tradi- The preoccupation with who could speak on behalf of the United States’ larger black population became a major concern during the HarlemRenaissance.