Attending the Paul H. Nitze School of Advanced International Studies of the Johns Hopkins University this summer has been one surprising adventure after another. Just the other day, one of my classmates leaned into the room with a startled look on his face.
“I think I just ran into the former U.S. secretary of state in the loo,” he said, his native British accent made thicker with incredulity. “Does he teach here?”
“He lectures sometimes,” answered one of the full-time students.
It’s one of the many moments this summer when I feel frankly intimidated by my surroundings. Studying international relations in our nation’s capital provides the student with some very hands-on surroundings. This isn’t just class — it’s where it’s really happening. Many of my classmates work in embassies, the World Bank, the State Department, or the Department of Defense. My professors are professionally engaged in U.S. foreign relations — one works in the State Department, while the other travels the world mediating conflicts.
Many of the people around me aren’t just studying international relations; they are the people conducting international relations.
This is exciting, inspiring, and, yes, intimidating.
Last month, when the Honduran government was upset first by President Zelaya’s breach of the constitution, and then, perhaps more dramatically, by the subsequent military takeover, I suddenly noticed a lot of empty seats in class.
“Where is Maria?” I asked. Then, “Wait a second … doesn’t she work … ?”
“At the Honduran Embassy?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m thinking that she must be pretty darn busy right now … I think it’s safe to guess that we won’t be seeing her on Thursday, either.”
“Well, where is Marta?”
“She works for the Guatemalan Embassy.”
“So? What’s going on there?”
“They’ve sent a delegation to Washington to talk about Honduras. I think she’s found herself suddenly pretty busy, too.”
While I have been oohing and aahing over being able to simply walk through the diplomatic community on Embassy Row, many of my classmates have been immersed in the political workings going on behind those large brick walls.
Some, apparently, work behind more closed doors than others. During my very first week of summer classes at SAIS, an adjunct professor was arrested in an espionage case. A retired State Department employee, Walter Kendall Myers, and his wife, Gwendolyn, were accused of spying on the United States for Cuba for 30 years.
In a marked underappreciation for the gravity of the charges, my first thought when I heard that an SAIS adjunct professor had been accused of spying for Cuba was “wow … people here actually know enough about the U.S. government and foreign policy to be valuable as spies.”
Kendall, an SAIS alumnus as well as faculty member, was arrested right in front of our building. Not having class that day, I didn’t happen to witness the very surprising event, but it was all over the papers the next day, and we students, naturally, were particularly curious. We peppered our professor and each other with questions about Kendall, the State Department, espionage and Cuba.
“Usually they discover spies because of unexplained bank account increases,” one of the State Department employees in my class explained. “But the thing about spying for Cuba, apparently, is that unlike other countries like Russia, Cuba doesn’t pay their spies — you get involved with espionage for Cuba just because you agree with their ideology.”
“Don’t they vet you guys when you go into the State Department?”
“Sure … they make sure you have no major financial needs that might make you susceptible to bribes — a relative with a serious illness, or a gambling habit, for instance. And they ask you all sorts of questions about where you go out, what your favorite drinks are.”
“And then if you pass, that’s it?”
“They do a security check on you again once every five years.”
I feel as though I have a summer-long window into another world. It’s partially familiar to me — the books, papers and writing of reports of college life — but also incredibly different; a world where the events in the international section of The New York Times actually will affect your daily life. Or, more boggling still: a world where the daily lives of some of the people around me actually might affect the international section of The New York Times.
Intimidated or no, I look forward to my evening glimpses into the world of foreign policy. It’s not that often, after all, that you get to follow up on news articles with the actual participants. “So,” I look forward to asking, “what’s Manuel Zelaya like in person?” The answers are always full of surprises.
Meg Adams, who grew up in Holden and graduated from John Bapst Memorial High School in Bangor and Vassar College in New York, shares her experiences with readers each Friday. For more about her adventures, go to the BDN Web site: bangordailynews.com or e-mail her at madams@bangordailynews.net.