I Should Have Known Better

March 12, 2025

For those youngsters who believe they were born to change the world, I have a story to tell.

Back in 1984, I was professor at the American College in Thessaloniki, Greece. At the same time, at the ripe age of 24, I caught the ‘bug’ that hits many young na?ve Americans living abroad who believe they can change the world through public service.

A friend who worked as a Consul General at the American Consulate downtown, met me for lunch and convinced me to take the State Department Exam. He buttered me up, explaining I was made for traveling the world to instill American culture and ideals in local cultures. Moreover, he suggested I had much in common with him, and would enjoy the 3-year stints around the world, globetrotting for Uncle Sam while trying to change the world.

The following week, he proctored the State Department Exam at the consulate in my home town of Thessaloniki. This was a written exam, to be followed by an 'orals' in Washington DC, the day of 'orals' contingent on passing the written portion. I recall there was little preparation required; a few pages of practice questions revolving around general knowledge of world politics, American culture, geography and history. The material resembled what I had learned in one of my civics classes during High School.

A week later I sat for the exam, #2 pencils in hand, and two hours to complete what was alleged to be a very difficult test. They told me only 10% of participants passed the written exam, which put it well out of reach of most Americans at the time, who were less than world travelers, and who didn’t know much about their own culture.

About a month later I opened a sealed envelope from my mailbox and discovered I had passed, and I was rather shocked. Surprised more by how easy I had found the test to be. But I took what I could get, patted myself on the back, and then read to the end of the letter, where the US government informed me I had an invitation to visit Washington DC to partake in the second portion of the exam--a day-long oral exercise with a group of fellow Americans.

At the appointed time, two months later, I flew from Greece to Washington DC, checked into my hotel across from the Watergate Hotel, and readied myself for what was purported to be a day of tech-a-tete with 8 colleagues, vying for careers with The State Department.

The test was broken into 3 segments. The first part involved a one-on-one interview with a veteran employee of the Department of State who took me into a separate room and plied me with questions about American Culture. She asked about my favorite forms of art and music, and her questions seemed directed to elicit compliments about our multi-faceted world of culture. But my responses suggested otherwise. I recall a few of my responses. And, here, I paraphrase my answers from some 40 years ago.

“Well, if I were to choose a distinctive American genre of music, I would suggest blues or jazz—black music, in particular--from which many other forms of music find their origins. Rock and Roll, for example, comes from Blues and jazz,” I told her. She seemed non-plussed by my answer, and clearly disappointed I hadn’t mentioned the glorious music from our symphonic halls. Knowing where she wanted me to go, I continued:

“Yes, we also have great orchestras here, but most of the musicians hail from other countries, playing symphonies drafted by composers of European origin.” Again, I was not scoring well in this oral exercise. “It seems to me to claim these great musical traditions for American culture is a bit far-fetched.” I told her, with confidence. “What we have instead, and what I see back in my country of Greece on television, is a brilliant set of Micky Mouse Cartoons from generations ago, and plenty of cowboy films, where we Americans seem to enjoy shooting up Indians and assorted bad guys.”

By this time, she had started running her fingers through her middle-aged head of hair, not knowing what to make of me. “Anything else you can tell me about American contributions to world culture?” she asked, almost begging me to score with something brilliant. “Well, plenty of Dirty Harry films, and detective series broadcast across Europe. The Greeks seem to love Kojak,” I replied. “I see these series everywhere, and even the kids from villages in the public squares are glued to their television sets during hot summer nights, while their parents are drinking coffee.”

I could have gone into a monologue about modern pop art or some of the great American musicians I had seen in concert, floating around Greece—names like James Brown, Dizzy Gillespie and Chick Corea. But in the end, it didn’t matter. This woman was sold on the glorious story of American culture, and she hoped I was on the same page. I was far too nuanced to be of much good at giving easy answers. I witnessed the culture that America exported to this part of Europe, and it was not our finest harvest for this woman at the State Department.

The rest of the day involved sitting around a large circular table, with eight other aspiring participants fresh from grad school, my group mainly from Georgetown and some of the big Ivy League schools out East, with most having studied International Relations, history or Political Science. My background was business and journalism, and my work experience was in Europe, which put me at the far end of normalcy, once again. I was the odd-ball at the table.

The premise of the largest chunk of time around the conference table involved staff seated silently around us against the wall, with legal pads and pens in hand, scribbling notes with the answers we eight gave to hypothetical situations at hypothetical embassies around the world of hypothetically named countries. Ours was called Erehwon, which is Nowhere spelled backwards. Cute, huh? These State Department folks think of everything, I muttered to myself.

Our group posted in Erehwon had 3 hours to flesh out how we would allocate assets given to us by the US Government within the country, to offer the best glimpse of the USA to foreigners. We would have to choose the projects, the funds spent, and the possible outcomes. The instigators seated behind us watched to see our powers of cooperation, negotiation, leadership and the such. We were encouraged to stand our ground to defend our own pet projects, yet compromise among the group. It was a competition to discover whose voice could be loudest, clearest, boldest, and whose project could win the allocation of assets required to turn a distant outpost in a fictitious country into a headline on the front page of the Washington Post.

Here, again, my background in journalism—asking the right questions—and economics—asking about the bottom line—were in conflict with the other seven members of our group, most of whom thought like typical State Department officials, trying to grab the remaining budget to place their projects into high profile situations. They were already thinking like Peace Corps workers in charge of rather large budgets, but never worrying about the details of how money was to be spent.

So, each of us had a project to promote, and we made our case to the group sequentially throughout the long afternoon. By the time the discussion came around to me, I looked at what remained of our budget and suggested that the money was gone…..insufficient for much of anything except a ‘wrap party’ for the deal they would finally choose. In other words, it became apparent to everyone that our government was encouraging everyone to overspend on projects that were high profile, with no vision of whether these schemes worked, or the long-term effects of how we spent these taxpayer funds. I was over my head, dumbfounded by the task, and working well below my pay grade.

Keep in mind, this sequence of events I outline here took place in 1984, and if anyone is watching the news today and links on Google to USAID, the results of what I experienced four decades ago are in full view of the taxpaying public. Clearly, government employees have no clue how to spend taxpayer contributions, nor do they much care about the long-term effects of our spending decisions on future generations, most definitely at the local level, and abroad. These days, budgeting is no problem if you’re trying to make a political point in a distant country. You call DC and ask them to turn on the Spigot. Indeed, the image of drinking through a firehose is most apt here.

You can only imagine how embarrassed I felt at the end of this experience, wondering what on earth I had imagined for myself in such a context. From the standpoint of “Good State Department Material,” I was a round peg in a square hole, completely outside my element. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and I was un-made for this sort of collective cooperation at expense of the many, without regard for the newest local community that I was to become a member of every few years. It was easy to say goodbye every few years, and skip to another location with no consequence. But while in place, my job was all about high profile spending to promote the USA throughout the world, and I discovered I was more wedded to my local community.

Which is where I remain today, with skin in the game, an American living abroad, a local taxpayer and homeowner, and member of my local community. I’m gratified I discovered this truth earlier in life. But I still kick myself for thinking I was cut out for foreign service stuff. Instead, I have evolved to become a foreigner in service of my local community.