Editorial
The world today is interconnected in ways unprecedented in history. Diplomacy, once confined to discreet negotiations and guarded communiqués, now finds itself exposed to the instant gratification culture of social media platforms such as Facebook and Instagram. While this transformation offers new avenues for engagement, it has also laid bare a dangerous trend within Sri Lanka’s foreign service—one that threatens the very integrity, credibility, and efficacy of the nation’s diplomatic mission. It is not merely a matter of personal indiscretion or youthful enthusiasm; it is a profound ethical failure and a dereliction of duty by individuals entrusted with representing the state. Diplomats are custodians of national interest, not curators of personal lifestyle. Yet, an alarming number appear content to sacrifice solemn responsibility on the altar of public validation, funded by the hard-earned taxes of ordinary citizens.
Joseph Nye’s celebrated concept of soft power is instructive here. Nye posited that a country’s influence depends not on coercive force but on attraction, trustworthiness, and credibility. When diplomats prioritise likes, followers, and performative postings over substantive engagement, they undermine the very foundation of soft power. Instead of presenting Sri Lanka as a thoughtful, responsible actor in global affairs, they inadvertently project immaturity and self-interest. Diplomats, by their conduct, either bolster or erode the reputation of the state. The consequence is a slow corrosion of international goodwill and respect.
The role of a diplomat has never been about personal glory. Hans Morgenthau’s classical realism reminds us that “the struggle for power must be guided by prudence and a sense of responsibility.” Prudence demands that individuals entrusted with sensitive negotiations refrain from actions that dilute trust. Responsibility requires that they prioritise the welfare of citizens, advocate for the country’s interests, and act with discretion. Yet, the spectacle of diplomats posting selfies from official gatherings, trivial anecdotes while travelling on state business, or even sarcastic remarks about their own government, signals a disturbing erosion of these principles.
The Constructivist view of international relations, advanced by scholars such as Alexander Wendt, further emphasises that norms, behaviour, and shared ideas shape the identity of states. If diplomats consistently showcase frivolity, social media becomes an unintended vehicle for rewriting Sri Lanka’s identity as careless, unserious, and opportunistic. Anarchy, Wendt argues, is what states make of it. By that logic, our diplomats are actively constructing an image that weakens our standing, rather than one that commands respect and fosters cooperation.
Kant’s ethical philosophy offers another dimension to this crisis. “The end of government is not to promote the interest of individuals but the common good.” Diplomats are not private citizens seeking attention or validation; they are public servants bound by fiduciary duty to safeguard the interests of their compatriots. By diverting focus toward personal branding, they abandon this responsibility. Their duty is to assist citizens abroad, manage crises, and articulate the nation’s stance in complex geopolitical environments. When they fail to act, when they prioritise trivial posts over urgent matters affecting the welfare of expatriates, they not only betray trust but also endanger lives.
Edward Hallett Carr’s warning resonates powerfully in this context. “Diplomacy must serve the interests of the state, not the vanity of individuals within it.” The evidence of vanity is unmistakable. Social media offers an intoxicating platform for self-promotion, and too many diplomats have succumbed to it, confusing personal expression with national representation. The result is a foreign service that appears more concerned with optics than outcomes—a service adrift in a sea of performative politics rather than anchored by competence and strategic purpose.
The question is no longer whether social media should be used—it undoubtedly has its place in modern diplomacy—but how and when it should be used. Social media can humanise diplomats, foster transparency, and build public trust when handled responsibly. However, when used without restraint or accountability, it devolves into spectacle, undermining institutional purpose. We cannot ignore the reality that these posts are not neutral acts; they signal priorities, shape narratives, and influence how foreign governments and citizens perceive Sri Lanka.
It is high time that the Sri Lankan government recognise the gravity of this trend and act decisively. A regulatory framework must be introduced, establishing clear guidelines for diplomatic conduct on social media platforms. This framework should include protocols on official communication, restrictions on personal branding, and mandatory reporting of engagements affecting national interest. Ethical training, regular evaluations, and mechanisms for accountability must be embedded within the foreign service infrastructure. These are not measures of control; they are safeguards to ensure that diplomacy serves its purpose—not the ego of the individual.
Moreover, public discourse must shift from passive tolerance to active expectation. Citizens must demand that diplomats exercise discretion, prioritise service over spectacle, and uphold the dignity of their office. Taxpayer money sustains these positions, and the nation deserves a foreign service that is exemplary, principled, and aligned with national interests—not one distracted by vanity metrics and personal applause.
The time for complacency is over. If unchecked, the trivialisation of diplomacy will cost Sri Lanka dearly—diplomatically, morally, and strategically. As Kant reminds us, governance is a moral endeavour aimed at serving the common good. Let this be a clarion call for reform, restraint, and renewed commitment to principled statecraft. Sri Lanka’s future depends on diplomats who embody responsibility, not vanity; service, not self-display.
