Excluded from Our Own Story: Academia and the Foreign Policy White Paper

The forthcoming launch of PNG’s new Foreign Policy White Paper should be a landmark moment in our diplomatic history. Yet, for me as an international relations academic, there is something deeply unsettling. I work at a university that has taught international relations for more than a decade, producing graduates who now serve across the public sector. Many of our alumni have gone directly into the Department of Foreign Affairs, with at least three currently working in the Foreign Policy Coordination Office. And yet, neither the university nor myself—as an academic shaping the very minds that will implement this White Paper—was consulted or given sight of the draft prepared by the eminent persons group.

I first taught the unit IR428 Foreign Policy in PNG on my own, and for the last four years Mr. Lahui Ako and I have been co-teaching it online—combining academic insight with practitioner experience to strengthen foreign policy education in PNG.

This raises a legitimate question: does the Department of Foreign Affairs value the role of universities in preparing and training citizens for foreign policy engagement? Our teaching, research, and mentorship have directly fed into the pipeline of expertise that the department relies on. If those efforts are overlooked in a process as fundamental as drafting the country’s core foreign policy document, then we must interrogate what kind of foreign policy culture we are cultivating.

Foreign policy cannot thrive in isolation from academia. The role of universities is not only to produce graduates but also to generate knowledge, foster debate, and provide evidence-based insights that strengthen policymaking. To bypass this contribution is to weaken the intellectual foundations upon which a credible and adaptive foreign policy must rest. Are we moving towards a model where foreign policy is treated as an elite preserve, shielded from scrutiny and critique, rather than a public enterprise informed by scholarship and expertise?

The fact that an eminent persons group was tasked with producing the draft is not the issue. It is the absence of transparency and the exclusion of academic stakeholders that undermines legitimacy. Eminence without inclusiveness risks producing a document that is disconnected from the broader ecosystem of ideas and capacities that exist within PNG. Should the voices of foreign service retirees outweigh the voices of academics who train the next generation of diplomats and analysts?

This exclusion also raises concerns about the institutional memory and intellectual capital that the White Paper is supposed to preserve. Universities like mine play a crucial role in documenting, critiquing, and teaching the history of PNG’s foreign policy. Without engagement, we risk repeating old mistakes, overlooking emerging challenges, and missing opportunities to link foreign policy to the aspirations outlined in Vision 2050 and MTDP IV. How will a White Paper achieve long-term relevance if it is not grounded in the very institutions that sustain knowledge over time?

It is also worth asking whether this sidelining reflects a deeper undervaluing of research and evidence in national policymaking. If policymakers continue to treat universities as suppliers of manpower rather than partners in shaping ideas, then we should not be surprised if policies lack depth, foresight, or practical grounding. Can a White Paper that excludes the voices of academics and researchers genuinely claim to represent the national interest in its full complexity?

As an early-career scholar specializing in foreign policy and security, I am not demanding privilege, but recognition of what academia brings to the table. Consultation would not only have validated the work we do but would have enriched the White Paper with perspectives rooted in rigorous study and comparative analysis. Are we so insecure about our policy processes that we shut out those best positioned to provide critique and improvement?

The White Paper, when launched, will be celebrated as a milestone. But behind the speeches and press releases, a serious gap remains. The Department of Foreign Affairs must ask itself whether it wants to build a foreign policy that is insulated or one that is enriched by collaboration. As academics, we must continue asking uncomfortable questions: Why were we excluded? What does that say about the relationship between policy and scholarship in PNG? And, most importantly, how can we ensure that future processes respect and integrate the intellectual resources that already exist within our universities?