Behind Australia's diplomatic frontline
New book shares an insider's perspective of international crisis management
As Australians return to international travel in an unpredictable world, there’s a certain comfort in knowing that – in most places and situations – there’s a way to find help from home if things go awry.
In 2020-21, the consular service within the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT) provided assistance to almost 39,000 Australians in difficulty overseas, answering 54,000 calls and dealing with everything from lost passports to arrests and hospitalisation overseas.
The Australian Government provides consular support from 122 posts in 85 countries, alongside 49 honorary consuls in 45 countries.
Having spent 25 years with DFAT, including several years running the consular service and two ambassadorial postings, UQ alum and Adjunct Associate Professor Ian Kemish AM (Bachelor of Arts '82, Honours '87) has experienced almost every situation imaginable on the diplomatic frontline – from Australians being hospitalised or arrested overseas, to managing Australia’s response to the 2002 Bali Bombings, in which 88 Australians died.
Kemish has recently launched a book, The Consul, with University of Queensland Press (UQP), detailing the lived experiences of those working at the coalface of protecting Australians abroad.
Contact sat down with the author to talk crisis management, September 11 and tensions in the Pacific.
'If they have special qualities, they’re Australian qualities'
The Consul provides an intimate insight into the daily reality of those serving Australians overseas.
Kemish describes how some of his colleagues spent weeks living in a crowded tent during monsoon season in the Philippines to drive disaster recovery. Another chapter describes a DFAT employee’s treacherous helicopter ride to recover an Australian’s body from high in the Himalayas. And another, in one of the worst consular crises Australia has ever faced, DFAT employees mop up pools of blood from the hospital floor after the 2002 Bali Bombings, Australians lying dying or dead around them.
Consul Lyall Crawford supports stranded Australians after their colleague died on Choy Oyu in the Himalayas. Image supplied
Consul Lyall Crawford supports stranded Australians after their colleague died on Choy Oyu in the Himalayas. Image supplied
“These people are just Australians,” Kemish said of his colleagues.
“They’re not born as fully-formed public servants in their ties: they’re just like you and me, they come out of our schools, out of the universities we went to.
“If they have special qualities, they’re Australian qualities – that’s how I tend to see it.”
'Being Australian doesn’t give you a get-out-of-jail-free card'
Alongside the crisis-management responses, consular staff also have to deal with the day-to-day problems Australians face overseas, such as being hospitalised, arrested, dying, becoming a victim of a crime or facing hardship.
There have even been instances when Australians have turned up to embassies requesting dog-sitting services.
Kemish said not everyone realises there are limits to what the consular staff can do to help.
“There’s actually no legal obligation on any government to its citizens in this space – that’s one of the surprising things,” Kemish said.
“It’s a matter of policy and judgment.
“The consular guidelines say that if you’re arrested overseas, you’re subject to the rule of law in that country.
“The Australian Government can offer you access visits, check your welfare, give you a list of lawyers, and make sure you’re being treated within the laws of that country.
“But being Australian doesn’t give you a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
Ian Kemish with former Australian prime minister Julia Gillard at a function to thank the Australian High Commision team for their consular work in Papua New Guinea. Image: supplied
Ian Kemish with former Australian prime minister Julia Gillard at a function to thank the Australian High Commision team for their consular work in Papua New Guinea. Image: supplied
Alongside the day-to-day workload, the consular service is often thrown into the thick of overseas crises where Australians may be involved, like the 2001 September 11 terrorist attacks in the United States.
Kemish recalls watching The West Wing with his wife, Roxanne, when news of the first plane hitting the World Trade Centre flashed across the screen.
Like many others, Kemish was yet to understand the huge significance the event would have for the world.
“It changed everything,” Kemish said.
“Don’t get me wrong – the world before September 11 wasn’t some perfect place… but [the attacks] changed the mindset for a while, and in ways that were sort of regrettable.
“The sense of shock that followed led Western governments to really lean in hard, including launching an offensive against Afghanistan, and it started a process that is still a scar for many.
“There are still so many Australian veterans in serious crises. But it’s been a war that the Australian public has only really been broadly aware of.”
Behind the scenes, the consular service was dealing with the complexities of Australians tied up in the war – including those sympathising or working directly with Jihadist terrorist organisations.
The attacks were also a critical prompt to upgrade DFAT’s crisis response system, with the department’s phone lines taking over 15,000 calls and registering 8000 contact details from concerned loved ones in the aftermath of the attack.
“I look back and think that those experiences were a turning point for us, because they propelled us and gave us cover in asking for more resources from the government.”
“And thank God we did that, because we wouldn’t have coped with the Bali Bombings if it hadn’t been for the stimulus that September 11 provided.”
The Consul, written by Ian Kemish and published by UQP. Keep reading for your chance to win a copy! Image: Marc Grimwade
The Consul, written by Ian Kemish and published by UQP. Keep reading for your chance to win a copy! Image: Marc Grimwade
'Australia learnt together the reality of what disaster-victim identification is actually like'
The 2002 Bali Bombings are – in terms of life lost and operational complexity – the most serious consular crises that Australia has ever dealt with.
At the time, around 20,000 Australians visited Bali every month, and mobile phones had recently become commonplace – particularly for young travellers.
This saw the crisis play out in real-time, with Australians calling the department and their families from the scenes of the devastation.
Even in the early stages, Kemish understood this would be different to anything they’d faced before.
“It was really intense. I knew I wasn’t coming home for a while, and I wouldn’t be sleeping properly for a while,” Kemish said.
“But you need to be careful about pushing yourself to the point where you start making stupid decisions.
“It takes about 48 hours to get into that territory, where you’re doing idiotic things because you’re too tired.
“So, I made sure that I slept. I passed my mobile phone over and I told my colleagues to ring me at home if they had to.”
Ian Kemish at the memorial for the 2002 Bali bombing victims at Coogee. Image: supplied
Ian Kemish at the memorial for the 2002 Bali bombing victims at Coogee. Image: supplied
It was a confronting situation. DFAT employees, local workers and volunteers were working around the clock to first identify who was dead or injured, and then how to bring them home.
“Australia learnt together the reality of what disaster-victim identification is actually like,” Kemish said.
“You’re dealing with highly emotional, grieving families: situations where you have multiple families claiming one body with absolute certainty.
“The media treats you like heroic soldiers for the first few days, and then you’re dirt for a while. Then, a year later, when everyone’s getting Orders of Australia, you’re the nation’s heroes again.”
In The Consul, Kemish describes the emotional labour of the crisis response: a particularly difficult scene is when the DFAT team discovers that the list of victims had been uncovered by a journalist, who had then called families for comment before they’d been formally notified that their loved ones were dead.
It was a difficult time, but there were also moments of resilience: like a conversation between Kemish and the then-Australian Prime Minister, John Howard. His message was simple and cost was not a prohibiting factor: whatever it took, they were to do what they needed for Australians.
'Competition for ideas and ideology'
Kemish’s final overseas posting with DFAT was in in 2010 in Papua New Guinea (PNG), where he’d spent time as a boy. Returning as High Commissioner, he was often referred to in the local press as mangi lo ples, which translates roughly to ‘a local kid’.
Kemish said while they were aware of conversations around China’s influence in the Pacific at the time, it has ramped up significantly in the years since.
“To have a Chinese Foreign Minister do a multi-country tour of the region as we’ve just seen is quite a big deal,” Kemish said.
“A naval base in Melanesia would be a disaster for Australia given our alliance arrangements, but I actually think the serious game is not so much about that.
“I think it’s a competition for ideas and ideology – it’s a contest between the Chinese Way and the Western Way. That’s where it’s serious.”
'Doing this for Australia'
As promised, Kemish’s book brings Australians behind the diplomatic frontline, to the work we don’t often see – the crisis evacuations, the negotiations, the difficult conversations with Australians who have lost a loved one overseas.
It pulls back the curtain behind which the ‘magic’ happens, asserting that it’s not actually magic at all: it’s the difficult and often emotional labour of DFAT employees that brings Australians home.
The Consul opens with a dedication to Roger Strickland – a friend and colleague of Kemish’s, who passed away in an air accident in Vanuatu while working for DFAT – quoting him:
‘Isn’t it a great feeling, knowing we’re doing this for Australia?’
The book is full of the lives and stories of people like Roger, who often have had to put themselves at risk for the welfare of their fellow Australians. In many ways, their experiences are a reminder of why we call it the public service in the first place.
Built with Shorthand