Sri Lanka’s diplomats are meant to protect national interest, yet a growing obsession with Facebook fame and Instagram validation is corroding credibility, weakening soft power, and risking the nation’s future in global diplomacy.
Diplomacy was once an art rooted in discretion, trust, and the careful balancing of national interests in a turbulent world. For centuries, envoys spoke in whispers behind closed doors, forged fragile agreements, and navigated crises without the glare of public spectacle. In the twenty-first century, however, Sri Lanka’s foreign service finds itself confronted with an entirely new dilemma: the influence of social media. Platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, once dismissed as mere entertainment, have seeped into the bloodstream of statecraft. While they open new avenues for communication, they also expose a dangerous erosion of credibility and purpose within Sri Lanka’s diplomatic corps.
The problem is not one poorly timed selfie or a misplaced post, but something far deeper. It represents a structural and ethical failure that threatens the very foundations of diplomacy. Diplomats are entrusted with safeguarding national interest. They are custodians of state integrity, not curators of personal brands. Yet increasingly, many confuse service with self-promotion, retreating into the shallow theatre of likes, shares, and viral approval, all funded by taxpayer money. The consequence is a foreign service more focused on optics than outcomes, eroding trust, weakening soft power, and diminishing Sri Lanka’s standing in global affairs.
Diplomacy today functions in an interconnected world of unprecedented complexity. Crises from climate change to pandemics, wars to economic collapse, ripple across borders instantly. Social media might appear to complement this environment by humanising diplomacy and making it transparent. However, when misused, it corrodes responsibility. Joseph Nye’s celebrated theory of soft power makes this clear. Power in the modern world does not flow from coercion alone, but from credibility, trust, and attraction. A diplomat’s job is to embody these qualities. Yet when Sri Lankan diplomats post selfies at receptions, craft Instagram reels of official events, or issue sarcastic commentary about their own government, they project immaturity and self-interest. They may win applause online but corrode credibility offline.
The role of a diplomat has always transcended individual personality. Hans Morgenthau, the father of classical realism, reminded us that “the struggle for power must be guided by prudence and a sense of responsibility.” A diplomat who reduces statecraft to personal theatre betrays both prudence and responsibility. They dilute trust, diminish the gravitas of the state they represent, and risk transforming Sri Lanka into a caricature on the world stage.
International relations are shaped not just by hard power but by norms, perceptions, and shared identities. Constructivist scholars like Alexander Wendt stressed that “anarchy is what states make of it.” States shape their identity through behaviour and representation. What happens, then, when Sri Lankan diplomats consistently showcase frivolity on social media? The result is the rewriting of Sri Lanka’s identity not as resilient and dignified, but as careless, unserious, and opportunistic. A selfie from a summit, a careless joke during an official trip, or a travel anecdote that ignores context is not neutral. It shapes narratives abroad. Foreign governments and global audiences interpret these acts as signals that Sri Lanka’s envoys are more interested in validation than in representation. Slowly, this perception solidifies into identity, weakening the nation’s negotiating power and reducing its ability to command respect.
At its core, this is not just a political or strategic issue. It is a moral failure. Immanuel Kant’s philosophy of governance emphasised that “the end of government is not to promote the interest of individuals but the common good.” Diplomats are not private citizens free to chase attention. They are fiduciaries of trust, obligated 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 global forums. 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 words ring true: “Diplomacy must serve the interests of the state, not the vanity of individuals within it.” Yet vanity, fuelled by social media, has become unmistakable. Many diplomats have succumbed to self-promotion, confusing personal expression with national representation. The result is a foreign service more concerned with optics than with outcomes, adrift in a sea of performative politics instead of anchored by competence and purpose.
The intoxicating nature of social media explains the temptation. It thrives on spectacle, immediacy, and exaggeration. Diplomats find themselves drawn into transforming every reception into content, every trip into a photo opportunity, every negotiation into a curated highlight. But the more they perform for the crowd, the less they fulfil their duties. Responsible use of social media can strengthen diplomacy. It can amplify goodwill, increase transparency, and connect diasporas with their representatives. But without restraint, it devolves into vanity theatre. The reality is unavoidable: these posts are not neutral. They shape priorities, influence perceptions, and alter how Sri Lanka is judged by both allies and adversaries.
Reform, therefore, is no longer optional. If Sri Lanka’s foreign service is to survive this crisis of credibility, the government must act decisively. Regulation is not about censorship, but about structure and accountability. A framework must be introduced that sets boundaries for digital diplomacy. It should include protocols for official communication, restrictions on personal branding in an official capacity, mandatory reporting of online engagements tied to national interest, and ethical training for all diplomats. Regular evaluations tied to outcomes, not online visibility are essential. These measures are not shackles; they are safeguards. They ensure that diplomacy remains service, not self-display.
Public expectation must also evolve. Citizens must move beyond passive tolerance and demand discretion and dignity from their diplomats. Taxpayer money sustains these posts, and Sri Lanka deserves representation that is principled, prudent, and aligned with national interest. Vanity cannot coexist with responsibility in such roles. If unchecked, the trivialisation of diplomacy will exact a heavy price. Diplomatically, it will erode negotiating credibility. Morally, it will betray the principle of service. Strategically, it will reduce influence in a competitive global order. Social media spectacle may bring fleeting applause, but it destroys long-term respect. The corrosion is subtle and often invisible until too late.
Kant reminds us that governance is a moral endeavour serving the common good. If Sri Lanka’s diplomats forget this, they risk dragging the nation into irrelevance. Reform is not about restricting freedom of expression but about preserving the integrity of representation. The future of Sri Lanka’s diplomacy depends on envoys who embody responsibility, not vanity, and who embrace service, not self-promotion.
The decline of Sri Lanka’s foreign service is not inevitable. It can be reversed if addressed decisively. This requires both government reform and citizen demand for higher standards. The credibility of a nation rests not only on its economic or military power but on the conduct of those who carry its flag abroad. If Sri Lanka’s diplomats continue chasing validation, they will not only tarnish their own image but also jeopardise the nation’s standing in global affairs. The lesson is clear: diplomacy must remain an act of service, not self-display.
