Beyond Protocol | Lorna Chan-Gonzaga on the Unwritten Rules of Diplomatic Life

Lawyer and diplomatic spouse Lorna Chan-Gonzaga reflects on a role learned largely through experience — from reading cultural cues and navigating work-related conversations to the quiet work behind official occasions

Interview by Tahani Elghazaly

Diplomatic protocol may be written down, but much of the spouse’s role is not.

For Lorna Chan-Gonzaga, some of its most important lessons have come through experience: learning how to navigate professional conversations in social settings, read cultural cues, respond when something goes wrong behind the scenes, and understand expectations that were never formally explained.

Her reflections offer a measured look at the less visible side of diplomatic life — not the formal photograph or reception line, but the judgement, preparation and practical knowledge that often sit behind them.

Is the role of an ambassador’s spouse ever formally explained or taught, or is much of it learned through observation, experience and instinct?

In my case, the role of an ambassador’s spouse was not formally taught or explained. I have been learning as I go along.

And, as you pointed out, I have been learning through observation, experience and instinct — and, if I may add, through conversation.

Personally, I wish the role of the ambassador’s spouse were at least explained. I think it benefits me, my spouse and even the embassy when I have a better understanding of my role.

Knowing the expectations, responsibilities and boundaries would definitely help me be more mentally and emotionally prepared.

When you first entered diplomatic life, what was something no one had warned or prepared you for — something you simply had to learn along the way?

No one prepared me for how to handle social gatherings where conversations became more work-related.

My husband’s first posting was to our mission to the World Trade Organization in Geneva. His counterparts often invited us to lunch or dinner in their homes. Most of them were single or were not accompanied by their spouses.

Conversations would somehow slip into something about work. Not being familiar with trade and international economic law, it was not hard to feel awkwardly present, literally lost in the technical conversation, and even bored.

But sitting through these conversations, I would pick up bits of knowledge. I learned to build on that by asking questions and reading a little more.

Eventually, sitting through work-related conversations at social gatherings became easier and, at times, I could even jump in and be a more active participant.

I have come to understand the importance of having some knowledge of the issues my husband deals with.

Do you remember a protocol rule, social expectation or diplomatic custom that you were particularly nervous about getting wrong in the beginning?

To this day, I get nervous about greeting someone — specifically, what title I should use and which introductory gesture is appropriate.

In small gatherings, and when I already have some kind of relationship with the attendees, greetings happen almost instinctively, with an accompanying two-cheek kiss or embrace being customary.

It is trickier in larger settings and at events where I meet a lot of new people.

At our National Day reception, for example, I had to welcome many unfamiliar faces. There were moments when I questioned my decision to shake someone’s hand because I was not sure whether that kind of touch was acceptable in their culture.

In a room filled with diplomats, officials and guests, are there unwritten rules you gradually learn — such as when to approach someone, when to begin a conversation, or when it is better to step back?

There are many unwritten rules, and the rules depend on the occasion and situation.

Before an event, I find it important to check in with my husband or the embassy and ask questions.

My fellow spouses from other embassies have also been very helpful in this regard. Conversations with them have been a gold mine of very useful information.

People often see diplomatic receptions as elegant social gatherings. What do they misunderstand about what is actually happening in those rooms?

Most people have a sense of how much work embassies put into pulling off elegant diplomatic receptions.

But I think many would be surprised to find out that embassy spouses of all ranks also contribute to the effort in unexpected ways.

When we are called to serve, we may find ourselves as cooks, florists, decorators, performers, photographers — and even part of the clean-up crew.

When an official event is hosted at home, at what point does a private home stop feeling private and become part of diplomatic life? How do you reclaim it afterwards?

Home starts not to feel like “home” once people outside the household begin coming in to prepare rooms for the event.

It then becomes a full-blown stage for diplomatic events when the guests start arriving.

I think it is this out-of-the-ordinary frenzy of activity that transforms the character of Tahanang Rizal from a private home into a residence of diplomatic consequence.

Once all the event paraphernalia have been packed or taken away and people have left, it starts to feel like home again.

At official events, guests usually see only the polished final result. Can you recall a moment when something unexpected happened behind the scenes and you had to respond quickly without letting it disrupt the occasion?

Embassy events where food is served always carry some margin for potential miscalculation.

At one of our recent embassy events, the actual number of attendees far exceeded the number of expected guests — and, surprisingly, even the anticipated appetites.

Food was running low, and there were latecomers who still had to make their way to the buffet table.

Fortunately, several of us spotted the issue, and we all simply went to work and did what we could to address it.

No one went hungry that day.

Is there a moment from diplomatic life that made you think, “If people knew what was happening behind this perfectly composed picture, they would be surprised”?

There have actually been many moments like that.

I started digitizing printed pictures from my husband’s first posting — all of which were taken before the advent of phone cameras and digital storage.

Going through the pictures prompted memories of stories that are not reflected in the images captured on film.

Even lately, when pictures are shared about our diplomatic life and friends respond with positive feedback, I find myself eager to tell them some story behind it.

I hold back most of the time, but I occasionally indulge myself, especially when the underlying story is more interesting than the picture.

A picture may paint a thousand words, but it does not always tell the whole story.

After years of observing diplomatic life from the inside, what is one unwritten rule you now believe matters more than anything written in a protocol handbook?

Form and perception are often paramount.