Le di
Many
diplomats have used poetry in their diplomatic work: wrapping words in silk is
the diplomat’s job. A diplomat may turn a lie into a ‘constructive ambiguity’ –
which is a way of defining poetry. Some poets have been diplomats – Neruda,
Claudel, St. John Perse. It’s an occupational hazard: the stimulating place,
the sheltered existence – and the ability to paraphrase the unknowable. Few
diplomats will admit to using poetry as a survival strategy.
Diplomats
are like watchmakers: their art is hidden inside a bland, if polished, case.
Only a couple of hands, forever going round and round to no apparent purpose,
betray the existence of an intelligent design. The best designer is the one who
leaves no signature – just invariant perfection. Creating a masterpiece,
however, is a rare opportunity.
In
daily diplomatic routine one is to judge the quality of a negotiated text not
by its content, but by its discards. At the end of the day, under a diplomat’s
table one may find crumpled amendments, execrable points of order, and many a
plain word. The box of useless qualifiers, the well of slimy compromises, lie
about empty.
To
survive, a diplomat needs poetry. Filed amidst the many layers of the brief,
the short poem will refresh the bleary mind. Poetry brings distance – hence
perspective and insight. Poetry reminds the diplomat that the best professional
is the amateur.
Most
deeply – poetry is truth.
(Aldo Mateucci)
(A
maravilhoso texto, um manifesto...
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