My Wife is a Diplomat: A Deep dive Into ‘Diplomacy-core’
Kasia Donnell, MSc Politics and International Relations, 03/02/2025
There is a niche of social media dominated by hashtags like #diplomacy, #unitednations, and #internationalrelations. Content on TikTok, Pinterest, and Instagram romanticises the life of studying and pursuing a career in International Relations (IR). Montage videos set to a dramatic music feature filtered stills of diplomatic passports, UN assembly halls, and signature blue employment lanyards. On Pinterest, mood boards collage UN logos, world flags, and Emma Watson, overlaid with catchphrases like ‘my wife is a diplomat’ or simply ‘diplomacy.’ If you’ve outgrown a ‘study influencer’ phase—marked by pastel highlighters and curated notes—you can easily transition into IR/diplomacy-core.
It’s hard to pinpoint why this romanticisation feels uncomfortable. A comment on an UN-inspiration-core TikTok summarised part of the issue with the scathing remark: ‘Imagine romanticising an organisation as useless as the UN.’ The organisation’s ineffectiveness is a widely recognised critique. The Security Council’s requirement for unanimous approval from its five permanent members often leads to stalemate, leaving crises like those in Ukraine, Palestine, and Sudan unaddressed.
Other issues with this romantic image lie in the structural realities of the UN. Internships are unpaid, and securing paid roles requires years of unpaid work experience-limiting opportunities to the privileged and leading to accusations of nepotism. While some UN positions involve impactful fieldwork, a Reddit user working for the organisation in Bonn noted that most jobs ‘are administration—you’re sitting at a desk, not driving orphans to safety.’ This aestheticisation also carries echoes of performative activism. Diplomacy-core as something like an alternative to dark-academia or cottage-core, minimises the complexities of global crises and implies a desire to be seen as someone who does good.
That said, I must admit I am an IR student who will undoubtedly try her luck at applying for a UN internship. To some degree, the romanticisation hits. The idea of a job involving international affairs is undeniably appealing. Even the lack of individual power has its own twisted allure. The prospect of travelling for work and being based at any UN office is enticing, even if it is far removed from reality. The appeal of the diplomatic passport ties into this. When asked about the imagery, one SOAS MUN Society member said they understood why it circulated so much: ‘It would be quite useful. At the airport, you just skip right through the passport queues.’
When the MUNSOC was polled, almost all participants were pursuing IR degrees. When asked if they wanted to work at the UN, a steady majority kept their hands raised. However, when asked if they thought the UN was a useful organisation, the number of hands fell. 'What does that mean?' one student asked. 'Net positive,' it was clarified. He nodded. Another student remarked, 'I think it does more good than harm.' When asked if the UN needed reform, nearly every hand went up. When asked what specifically, the overwhelming response: the Security Council.
The UN undeniably has its flaws. However, some parts of the organisation are worthwhile. As Marianne Beisheim observed, 'Those who rely on the UN to survive don’t think it’s useless.' Agencies like the UNRWA and WFP play critical roles, and the SDGs have been praised for holding the international community accountable. For those aspiring for a career in IR, navigating the gap between ideals perpetuated in diplomacy-core and the realities of the field is a delicate balance. Social media undoubtedly offers an over-glamorised image of the field. Nevertheless, for those drawn to it, the appeal lies in the hope that, despite its flaws, working in the field could still lead to some kind of tangible impact-while offering a career that is genuinely engaging and intellectually fulfilling.
