Our Man In Delhi

AN extraordinary thing happened on Prime Minister I.K. Gujral's return from the Commonwealth Summit in Edinburgh. Armed with that morning's newspaper story that Indian officials wanted him recalled, British High Commissioner David Gore-Booth crossed protocol lines to be amongst the first to meet Gujral at the airport to ascertain whether the story was true or not.

Gujral denied the story, but it was already too late for Gore-Booth. Cameras caught him with his arm placed casually around the Prime Minister's shoulders as he showed him the press report. A Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) official described his behaviour as "most unusual and unbecoming" of a senior diplomat: "It is a poor day for British diplomacy when the British high commissioner accosts the Indian PM, seeking and pressing for certificates in this way."

바카라 웹사이트The British envoy's act was met with uncomfortable embarrassment on the part of Indian officials present. But British officials have tried to play down the incident. "He was motioned to stand in a certain place at the bottom of the plane by the chief of protocol," insists a British High Commission source. "He was summoned to meet the PM on his return from CHOGM—there was absolutely no breach of protocol, this is quite normal. However, there would have been a serious breach of protocol had he not gone to the airport."

Whether Gore-Booth breached protocol or not, the fact remains that his style has been distinctly unorthodox. Consider this much-repeated anecdote. At a Delhi reception, a UN official, talking to two foreign correspondents, found he had only one business card left. Before he could make the embarrassing decision of which journalist to favour with the card, Gore-Booth, who was also present, whipped it out of his hands, ripped it neatly in two and handed each journalist one half, saying: "There you are, no arguments." The story was carried in the Financial Times.

But the envoy's friends and colleagues say his unusual manner has no bearing on his competence. "He is jovial, likes to banter and is not averse to taking the mickey out of someone, and there he faces the risk of being misunderstood," says a British journalist who received one of the half-torn business cards. Indeed, the recent embarrassments have had a sobering effect on Gore-Booth, whose friends say he sounds "dismayed and depressed" these days.

So who exactly is this British envoy, the latest in the pantheon of diplomats stigmatised by members of the press and sections of South Block? His CV is impressive: Gore-Booth, or Sir David, as he likes to be called, is an experienced diplomat who previously served in Saudi Arabia as ambassador—a high-profile posting given to the best and the brightest—and before that he served at the Middle East desk at the foreign office in London during the Gulf War.

HE is reported to have secured the release of Iraqi assets in return for the release from prison of a Briton, Ian Richter, who had served five-and-a-half years of a life sentence for bribery. Britain released $125 million in Iraqi assets frozen after the Gulf War so Iraq could buy relief supplies 16 months after the war. In the process, Britain became the first western country to release Iraqi assets. In Saudi Arabia he is credited with nurturing the Al Yamamah deal—one of the largest arms deals brokered with the UK in the '80s. And his staff by and large stands by him. "He was a very loyal boss once you had proved yourself," says a British diplomat who worked under him in Riyadh. "The Saudis have a very different culture, and he had a sensitive touch. I can't seriously see him as somebody who would put people's backs up."

But there has been evidence of a chink in his armour, even in Riyadh. According to a 1994 report, British journalists detected a "note of hysteria" at a press briefing by the ambassador when he discussed the case of a Saudi dissident, Mohammed al-Mas'ari, seeking asylum in Britain. Gore-Booth was said to be a key player in the case. To be sure, Gore-Booth has more than his fair share of admirers in the fourth estate. "He is a very refreshing diplomat," says a British journalist. "He is aggressive, assertive and usually very press savvy; he even calls back personally." But another British journalist based in Delhi, who has been unsuccessful in getting even a routine interview with him since arriving in India, says: "It was more difficult to see Sir David than it was to meet the Queen. He is terribly pompous and seems to have the tact of a rhinoceros."

바카라 웹사이트So which is the real Gore-Booth? And why did things go so terribly wrong for him in the last few weeks? Some analysts have described the royal visit as nothing short of a diplomatic debacle. And a series of gaffes just before and during the Queen of England's third visit to India have sealed Gore-Booth's reputation as a diplomat who repeatedly puts his foot in his mouth. Some of his peers from Western missions are baffled at his handling of the visit, particularly his undiplomatic remarks about the Indian leadership.

Something that repeatedly miffed the local press. For instance, at a news conference to announce the Queen's programme, journalists took umbrage when he advised Indian politicians to "stop tilting at windmills" and instead discuss "the debilitating issue of Kashmir". But a former senior Indian diplomat pointed out such phraseology should not be interpreted as insulting and that it is more a case of "two countries being divided by a common language". Said he: "One can say such phraseology is best avoided—keep it straight and don't use words with so many syllables." But a less sympathetic MEA source feels Gore-Booth is a poor imitation of his father, who served here as high commissioner in the 1960s. Paul Gore-Booth was "a genuinely fine man" with a real affection for India even though he was of the old colonial school of foreign officers. "What he (David) lacks in his brain, he makes up for in arrogance and rudeness," the source said viscerally.

And at Edinburgh, from where the story about India seeking his recall emanated, Indian officials were quite annoyed. They did not ask for his recall, but Indian newsmen were not merely reporting back what the Observer had carried. The officials narrated to Indian newsmen two remarks by Gore-Booth and these quickly started doing the rounds. One, that the fracas over the Queen's visit was nothing but India expressing its frustration at living without the British for the last 50 years. Two, that it does not matter that Gujral calls Britain a third-rate power as he will be out in six months anyway. These stories did not feed off the Observer, there was direct "material" at hand to feed on.

Nobody checked with Gore-Booth. But given his reputation, they seemed in character and that was good enough. Gore-Booth has also been compared unfavourably to his predecessor, Nicholas Fenn. Appointed by John Major, Fenn gave a strong business tilt to bilateral ties, while Labour merely inherited Gore-Booth. Fenn has been described as urbane, soft-spoken, warm, sophisticated and "most importantly", according to an Indian diplomat, "he enjoyed the confidence of the Indian government".

A senior Indian source says more cautious handling of the media on Gore-Booth's part would have gone a long way. "Channels can get clogged now," he notes. Although British diplomats have gone into a serious damage control mode, some of them say that they can only "hope" that relations have not been damaged "in the long term". Others are not so squeamish about the British envoy. Says Tarun Das of the CII: "He is very outspoken, which is good because there is no pussyfooting around and you know exactly where you stand." Opining that Gore-Booth has helped strengthen business links between the two countries, he adds: "We have found him sensitive and understanding—he's the sort of guy who walks across a room full of people to meet you."

One observer, however, describes Sir David as a man let loose from a P.G. Wodehouse novel, though not as affable as the author's characters. In the same vein, the London Observer speaks of his "obsession with the baubles and titles of imperial Britain". So as the list of contradictions stretches on, all pieces to the puzzle may never fit when the man himself remains elusive.