"Diplomacy is the art of saying "nice doggie" until you can find a rock." - Wynn Catlin

The quote, attributed to former State Department official Wynn Catlin – “Diplomacy is the art of saying 'nice doggie' until you can find a rock” – feels particularly resonant in the current geopolitical climate. It's a darkly humorous summation of a practice often portrayed as reasoned discussion and compromise, but frequently underpinned by the threat of force. The sentiment suggests a patience born not of genuine belief in peaceful resolution, but of strategic positioning, a calculated delay while gathering the necessary "rocks" – be they economic sanctions, military alliances, or damning intelligence – to enforce a desired outcome.

Recent events surrounding the escalating tensions in the South China Sea offer a prime case study. For years, the international community, led by the United States, has largely engaged in a series of polite, but increasingly firm, remonstrations regarding China’s aggressive territorial claims and militarization of artificial islands. These protests, cloaked in the language of international law and freedom of navigation, can be seen as the “nice doggie” phase: acknowledging the dragon’s presence, attempting to soothe its anxieties, and subtly reinforcing norms of acceptable behavior. Regional ASEAN nations, delicate in their balancing act between economic dependence on China and security concerns regarding its expansion, have largely echoed this cautious approach.

However, beneath the surface of diplomatic statements and joint exercises, a significant build-up of “rocks” has been taking place. The U.S. has strengthened its alliances with Japan, Australia, and the Philippines, conducting increasingly sophisticated joint military drills. The AUKUS security pact, establishing a new trilateral security partnership between Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States, focused initially on nuclear submarines, is a particularly potent example. It isn’t merely a show of force, but a long-term investment in capabilities designed to project power in the region.

Furthermore, increased focus on economic decoupling, or at least diversification away from reliance on Chinese supply chains, represents another form of rock accumulation. The push to create alternative sources for critical minerals, semiconductors, and other essential goods isn’t solely about economic resilience; it’s aimed at reducing leverage China wields through economic interdependence. Intelligence gathering, too, plays a critical role, providing a detailed understanding of China’s naval capabilities, strategic intentions, and internal vulnerabilities.

This dynamic is not exclusive to Asia. Look at the years of negotiations with Iran regarding its nuclear program. The Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), hailed as a diplomatic triumph at the time, was arguably a lengthy period of “nice doggie,” aimed at buying time to develop and refine sanctions regimes and to build a coalition of international support for potential military options. The eventual withdrawal of the U.S. from the JCPOA and the re-imposition of sanctions demonstrate the inherent instability of this approach, the understanding that perpetual soothing is unsustainable without the credible threat of consequences.

Of course, the “rock” isn’t always military force. In the context of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the “rocks” have largely taken the form of unprecedented economic sanctions, asset freezes, and military aid to Kyiv. However, even these measures were preceded by years of warnings, attempts at negotiation, and diplomatic pressure – the verbal equivalent of praising a potentially dangerous animal. The ongoing debate surrounding the provision of further, more sophisticated weaponry to Ukraine reveals the lingering tension between the desire to avoid escalation and the perceived need to present a truly deterrent “rock.”

The problem with Catlin’s analogy, beyond its cynical edge, is that the “rock” itself isn’t always a perfect solution. Using force, or even unleashing crippling sanctions, carries its own risks and unintended consequences. A misplaced "rock" can cause widespread damage, escalating conflicts and creating new problems. Moreover, the act of finding the rock, of overtly preparing for confrontation, can itself be provocative, potentially accelerating the very outcome it seeks to prevent.

Ultimately, Catlin’s quote serves as a stark reminder of the limitations of diplomacy. It’s a necessary tool, a crucial method for de-escalation and finding common ground, but it shouldn’t be viewed as an end in itself. The effective practice of diplomacy requires a clear understanding of one’s own interests, a realistic assessment of the other party’s motivations, and a willingness to prepare for the possibility that words will ultimately be insufficient. And, sometimes, a very large rock.