Foreign Cultures: In a Mirror Dimly Part II

My wife might be among the most cross-culturally competent people to ever set foot on Incirlik AB, Turkey. One summer, when she had time off from her job, she flew commercially from the US to join me on a squadron deployment. I spent six of the best weeks of my life flying combat missions into Iraq and hanging out with my wife.

Turkey is a beautiful country, rich in history and culture. Its people are warm, hospitable, and take great pride in showing off their country. Unfortunately few Americans who pass through Incirlik AB ever really see it. Most never make it out of "The Alley", a commercial purgatory between the base and downtown where hundreds of American airmen haggle for carpets or drink beer and play pool in bars sporting American flags and military memorabilia. The Alley is fun, but it's hardly an authentic cultural experience. It's a carnival for American servicemen, lubricated by US dollars. More daring airmen can sign up for trips at the ITT office; they can pile aboard a tour bus with thirty other Americans and spend a day or two visiting sites like Tarsus or "Castle by the Sea."

My wife, who served in the US Peace Corps, wanted more. She wanted to escape the American bubble and really see the culture. Unfortunately, every trip outside the alley required O-6 approval, a detailed itinerary, and a force protection brief. This was a hassle, but we became masters of the process. The next step was getting to downtown Adana, the city neighboring Incirlik. Most Americans who visit downtown Adana hire a taxi. My wife decided we should use the local bus service. The first time we piled into the crowded minibus, we had no idea what we were doing. We followed the lead of the Turkish passengers in front of us and passed up coins to the driver, but still managed to get ripped off. After a couple tries we had the process down. We eventually learned our way around Adana. We became familiar with the spectacular Sabanci Mosque--and the proper etiquette to observe when visiting. We learned where to hire guides who would take us around town, and where an ancient Christian church was located. My wife learned some of the language. Word of her cross-cultural skills spread quickly, and she became the go-to person for my squadron. While I was flying missions, she helped others plan their trips, gave tips on riding Turkish buses, or even played the role of tour guide for my colleagues. She took a couple ITT trips, but she and I also went to Castle by the Sea one day by riding the Turkish bus system--a four hour trip each way that required multiple bus changes, at stations where nobody spoke a word of English. If the Colonel knew what he was signing off on, there's no way he would have said yes. My wife concluded her "deployment" to Incirlik with a 4-day solo trip to Istanbul, where she made friends with a Turkish businessman who does business with Japan and an Indian South African woman who'd spent several years living in Saudi Arabia.

My wife was so successful at penetrating the Turkish culture because she violated all the norms of the US military. Overseas bases are generally designed to insulate American servicemembers from the surrounding culture (and vice versa). Bases are bubbles of American culture, and wider exploration of the host country is generally funneled through ITT trips. Even in countries where servicemembers are free to travel, like Japan or Germany, it takes real effort to escape the American influence that bleeds into the area. The strip joints and pawn shops outside Yakota AB, Japan could have been transplanted from Fayetteville. My wife fought as hard as she could to break out of this system--while I rushed to keep up.

Even when American servicemembers are motivated to travel and learn about another culture, they face serious bureaucratic hurdles from the US government. A civilian who wants to travel just needs a passport and a visa. Depending on the country, a military officer might need country clearance from the US embassy in the country or even theater clearance from the controlling combatant command. They must comply with a heavyweight document called the Foreign Clearance Guide, which has detailed regulations for each country that govern both personal and professional travel. When I visited Jordan last spring, I needed country clearance from the embassy and theater clearance from CENTCOM. Military servicemembers are forbidden to enter Jordan on personal leave. I had to stretch the system to its limits by requesting a "permissive TDY" to justify my presence. In a military culture dominated by OPSEC and force protection concerns, foreign cultures are viewed as threats. Vast regions are marked off as off-limits to US military. Want to visit somewhere exotic like Khartoum or Beirut? Forget it.

What do these trends mean for the US military? Although the US military has global commitments and a worldwide presence, many of its members never develop strong cross-cultural awareness or skills. The more strategic the region, the harder it is for an American servicemember to learn about the culture. The first time many soldiers will really encounter a foreign culture is when their boots hit the ground.

I have flown hundreds of missions in the Middle East, but in my official Air Force travels, I have only spoken to an Arab face-to-face a couple times. A fellow C-17 pilot told me about a trip he flew to Israel in 2003. His crew was terrified to set foot outside their hotel because of terrorism concerns. An Air Force colleague had a chance to visit Turkey while in ROTC, but his commander actively discouraged him from going. Force protection is a serious concern, but what is the long-term cost when the system breeds this much fear and insulation from the regions and cultures that matter most to our national security? What does it mean when a pot-smoking college-aged backpacker has more freedom to travel the world than a Lieutenant Colonel?

Next time: recommendations on ways to close the gap in our cross-cultural competency.