Abstract

Jeremy Black, A History of Diplomacy, Reaktion Books: London, 2010; 312 pp.; 9781861896964, £20.00 (hbk); 9781861898319, £15.00 (pbk)
Reviewed by: Richard Carr, University of East Anglia, UK
Jeremy Black’s A History of Diplomacy chronicles the interactions between different cultures and nations, from the emissaries of the early Ming Dynasty to the use of Facebook and Twitter by the modern British Foreign Office. It is a bold endeavour which, whilst not without its limitations, offers a useful primer for those interested in international dialogue over the longue durée. Black has a formidable publishing record on which to draw. He also has a Tory scepticism which helps throw up some pressing questions, and he has clearly aimed to provide an ambitious, sweeping study to draw the reader in.
The book makes three key claims of originality to challenge the, as Black sees it, increasingly ‘redundant’ (263) nature of recent works within the diplomatic discipline. Firstly, it ‘sets out to change the way in which the history of diplomacy is discussed’. To Black, ‘the standard European-based continuum of diplomatic development … is an insufficient guiding principle of analysis’ for any period before the twentieth century. In this light, ‘the non-West [should] receive its fair share of attention’ (9). This is a reasonable point, and recent long-run analyses such as Gregory Clark’s A Farewell to Alms have highlighted pre-industrial global homogeneity in other regards (including life expectancy and economic development). This is still, however, largely a European centric study – it does bring in China, India and Japan more than others have done, but not perhaps as much as the introduction would suggest it might.
Secondly, Black aims to move our understanding of diplomacy beyond the formal summit- and embassy-based interactions between ambassadors and their underlings, and places greater emphasis on ongoing cultural evolutions than that well thumbed resource (particularly for the undergraduate), Henry Kissinger’s Diplomacy. Whilst by the nineteenth century, diplomacy was an institution with its own set of mores and rules, Black shows that the wider culture still mattered. If references to Mars Attacks and Star Wars are unlikely to feature in every account of long-run diplomacy, they do so here, and to reasonable effect. The long-term impact of NGOs, he also notes, should also not be underestimated – and the shadowy modern world of lobbyists and supranational institutions which exercise power over (but hold little loyalty towards) states render such work of real importance.
Lastly, this is a story of few big moments, and little, up-front, discernable pattern. Arguably this an inevitable product of taking on so wide a brief, but there is a sense that locating the course of diplomacy in a few key case studies, rather than the overarching scattergun approach adopted here, would have produced some greater dividends. This is clearly the work of a sharp mind whose gamut of work in the field of diplomatic history has taken him off in many different directions, and upon which those academics with a less prodigious work rate may be rightly envious (from 2009 to 2011 alone, his website attests, Black produced 20 publications). The sense here is that whilst such breadth gives this account some real nuance, this is sometimes at the expense of clarity. Black’s account is adept at questioning, but there could perhaps have been more of an attempt at a linking narrative here. Questioning the significance of the Treaty of Westphalia may be a profound point, but if it does not serve as a key moment, what should arise in its stead? Nobody expects Black to be Marx or Hegel, however, and perhaps we should be grateful for what we do indeed get.
This is an account that refutes Whiggish ideals of improvement, and pours scorn on the bureaucratic processes associated with the diplomatic art. In doing so it questions the west’s ‘right’ to cultural hegemony with – the final chapters make clear – the ascent of China on the horizon. These are major points. Black gets to them through a web of anecdotes which sometimes disrupt the rhythm of his arguments, but this should not put readers off. Such partial incoherence is the essence, after all, of the world-view presented here. With the end of liberal utopianism in 1914, internationalism in 1939, the fascist ideal in 1945, and communism in 1989–91, Black does not go down the Fukuyama road towards a triumph of western democracy. Instead, he invites us to look at both our own past, and that of other cultures, if we wish to forge a new diplomacy in the coming decades and centuries. If such a conclusion is rather hard to tease out, it does provide some food for thought. Black’s work is reminiscent of that of two other Conservative writers, John Charmley and Andrew Roberts – one may not agree with all the conclusions, but they are asking some important questions. Here, Black provides little by the way of answers, but he does highlight some interesting ideas for future debate. With the qualifications outlined here aside – that, at least, is a good start.
