Read My Pins_ Stories From a Diplomat's Jewel Box - Madeleine Albright [15]
UPI
A gift from Chairman Arafat. Butterfly, designer unknown.
A few weeks later, Mrs. Rabin came to see me at my hotel in Israel. She brought with her a companion necklace, composed of a flock of doves, and handed me a note that read: “There is a saying: ‘One swallow doesn’t announce the spring’—so maybe one dove needs reinforcements to create a reality of peace in the Middle East. We need hope which is so much lost—I do wish you will restore it. With all my sincerest wishes, Leah.”
DAVID KARP
Speaking on Middle East peace at the National Press Club. My dove was flying, but I felt faint.
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Dinner with Israeli Prime Minister Rabin, whose assassination in 1995 was a profound tragedy.
I wore the dove pin again when paying my respects to the victims of genocide in Rwanda, 1997. Peace dove and necklace, Cécile et Jeanne.
U.S. DEPARTMENT OF STATE/USIS
U.S. DEPARTMENT OF STATE/USIS
Diplomatic negotiations often proceeded more slowly than hoped. I stocked up on turtles to signify my impatience and wore the crab when aggravated. Crab, Vertige.
In the three years that followed, I devoted more time to the Middle East than to any other region, as did President Clinton. Although I often wore the dove, I found cause—when displeased with the pace of negotiations—to substitute a turtle, a snail, or, when truly aggravated, a crab. Sadly, none of the pins proved equal to their assigned task. Today, long after Mrs. Rabin’s hope-filled gesture, the dove remains in need of reinforcements.
The frustrations of Middle East diplomacy were a constant reminder of the responsibilities that come with the job of secretary of state. I loved representing the United States but never stopped wondering how well I would measure up; thus I never stopped working. This attitude was reflected in a pin I had bought in Paris, made of gilt metal and wrought into a stylized Atlas holding up the Earth. I felt that America’s duty was not to try to do everything itself, but to foster a sense of commitment that would bring out the best in every country. My intent in wearing the pin—which I took only to the most important meetings—was to indicate to my colleagues that, collectively, we had the weight of the world on our shoulders. As a joke, my diplomatic security team made up a T-shirt that portrayed me as Atlas, a role with which I would have been uncomfortable for two reasons: First, in most early depictions, Atlas appears naked; second, his actual task in Greek mythology was not to hold up the Earth—which was considered flat—but to hold up the heavens. Although my spirit would have been willing, I am much too short for that.
other designers unknown.
two purple, black, and gold turtles, Isabel Canovas;
two purple, black, and gold turtles, Isabel Canovas;
other designers unknown.
Black and white turtle, Lea Stein;
two purple, black, and gold turtles, Isabel Canovas;
two purple, black, and gold turtles, Isabel Canovas;
other designers unknown.
Green and red balloons, Swarovski.
As more people began to comment on my pins, I naturally found myself growing self-conscious. In the morning or even the night before, I started thinking about the right pin for the coming day and sometimes for each meeting. I didn’t have much leisure for planning trips abroad, so often I just scooped up a handful of pieces from my jewelry box in hopes of finding an appropriate choice when the moment arrived. Some pins were essentially mood pieces, to indicate whether events were going poorly or well. When feeling good, I often wore a ladybug pin, because who doesn’t love a ladybug? A second preference was my hot-air balloons, which I interpreted