Hashtags and handshakes: diplomacy in the age of platforms

Diplomacy has traditionally relied on discretion and protocol: closed rooms, quiet rituals of negotiation, carefully timed statements, incremental trust-building. Social media introduced new pressures – to be first, to be visible, to claim credit. 

In some cases, that pressure has had real consequences. Leaks from sensitive negotiations - for example on sanctions against Russian individuals – have allowed those targeted to prepare travel arrangements and other countermeasures in anticipation of sanctions. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the Dutch defence minister inadvertently revealed secure meeting access details online. The race to communicate can collide with the need to protect negotiations. 

‘Although such cases do not always relate directly to social media, they illustrate a broader point: digital technologies are seeping into every aspect of diplomatic practice.’ 

But Adler-Nissen’s research also revealed something surprising: diplomacy has not abandoned its rituals. It has absorbed platforms into them. ‘If the President of the European Council, for example, has not posted about a meeting on social media, it is almost as if it has not really happened’, she observes. Just as photographs in newspapers once confirmed diplomatic engagement, today a post performs that function. Visibility has become a form of validation. 

Rather than replacing traditional practice, digital platforms have layered new expectations onto established norms. ‘It is no longer enough to show a handshake; the message must also state that “we had a productive meeting.” In this way, social media extends established diplomatic rituals,’ Adler-Nissen says. 

A global aesthetic of diplomacy 

To move beyond anecdote, Adler-Nissen and her team built a unique dataset: images shared online by roughly 7 000 diplomats worldwide. It is the only dataset of its kind. 

One might expect dramatic contrasts between countries – for example between China, Ghana or the United States. Yet the visual language of diplomacy proved remarkably uniform: monuments, meeting rooms, handshakes, flags.  

‘There is a strikingly global aesthetic: the same diplomatic “uniform”, the same formal settings, the same visual codes’, Adler-Nissen says. ‘Of course, there are variations, but overall, the imagery is very traditional and largely Western-centric. The attire, the staging and the symbolism closely resemble what we associate with classical Western diplomacy.’ 

The aesthetic is ritualised and strikingly consistent. Conflict, confrontation or violence are rarely visible. ‘The overwhelming majority convey messages of peace, cooperation and progress’, Adler-Nissen says. ‘Diplomats present themselves as custodians of international society: bridge-builders, facilitators, problem-solvers, even in contexts where their countries may be in conflict or at war.’ 

This uniformity suggests that diplomacy’s symbolic order remains deeply entrenched. Digital tools have not produced visual chaos. Instead, they reinforce an established, largely Western-centric aesthetic of international engagement. The image of order persists, even in times of geopolitical tension, when the underlying politics are contested. 

From diplomats to Big Tech 

If her ERC Starting Grant project examined how states use digital technologies, Adler-Nissen’s subsequent ERC Advanced Grant shifts the lens. The question now is not only how diplomacy adapts to platforms - but how platforms shape global order. 

Technology companies such as Meta and Alibaba are not merely economic actors. They possess political leverage and influence standards, infrastructure and regulatory debates. Their research and development budgets rival or exceed those of many states. 

‘The geopolitical struggle over artificial intelligence and quantum technologies increasingly resembles an arms race – though it remains unclear what exactly states are racing towards’, says Adler-Nissen. ‘The largest datasets? The most advanced models? Artificial general intelligence? Even policymakers may struggle to define the end point.’ 

Adler-Nissen’s new project seeks to map this emerging tech order. It combines qualitative interviews with diplomats and mid-level tech company employees with experimental and computational methods. In one approach borrowed from anthropology, participants are asked to draw geopolitical maps –  placing their company or state within a contested global landscape. At the other methodological extreme, computer vision tools analyse thousands of images to identify patterns in how technology companies project themselves to the world. 

The aim is not simply to document rivalry, but to develop a theory of how power is reconfigured when states and corporations co-shape global governance. 

The regulatory battleground 

Adler-Nissen’s research unfolds alongside significant regulatory change in Europe. The EU’s Digital Services Act, and particularly its Article 40 provisions, granting vetted researchers access to platform data, may prove decisive for independent scrutiny. 

Without access, platform governance remains opaque. With access, democratic oversight becomes possible. ‘It is difficult to overstate how significant this legislation is for transparency and independent research access’, Adler-Nissen says. ‘Given how deeply digital platforms shape our lives, democratic societies should, of course, have the ability to scrutinise them.’ 

In that sense, digital regulation is also science diplomacy. It shapes who can study global infrastructures, how knowledge circulates and how asymmetries of information are addressed. 

The asymmetry is stark. Major technology companies possess vast technical expertise and internal data. Governments often lack comparable insight. Independent academic research becomes a critical intermediary - capable of narrowing the gap and informing policy. 

‘We see an urgent need for more conversations, not just among diplomats but across all relevant authorities’, Adler-Nissen says. ‘There is a profound information asymmetry – in fact, a double asymmetry. On one side, tech companies do not disclose how their models or algorithms operate, often for commercial reasons. On the other side, states may restrict access to information due to confidentiality. Combined with knowledge gaps, this means that big tech often has more information than governments do. As researchers, our role is to help restore some balance, to provide the knowledge and insight that allow policymakers to act in a more informed and responsible way.’ 

For Europe, this creates both responsibility and opportunity. A credible regulatory framework could position the continent as a central arena for accountable digital governance. 

Science diplomacy: bridge or battleground? 

The discussion also complicates common narratives about science diplomacy. It is often portrayed as a neutral bridge, a space where collaboration continues even when politics fracture. 

History supports this image, says Adler-Nissen. ‘Much like in the time of Niels Bohr, it provides a space where people can continue to meet even when political relations between their countries are strained or even hostile. This raises important questions about how far one should go in such engagements, and how much contact with researchers from other countries, such as China or the United States, is appropriate. The principle often applied is ‘as open as possible, as closed as necessary,’ balancing scientific engagement with security considerations.’ 

Yet science is not inherently neutral. It is funded, shaped and sometimes instrumentalised by states. ‘Scientific collaboration can coexist with strategic competition or political purposes. Science diplomacy can, in some instances, overlap with espionage or industrial intelligence, and it is not always easy to distinguish when it does.’ 

The contemporary debate over artificial intelligence illustrates the tension. Engagement is necessary; isolation risks intellectual stagnation. ‘Restrictions on movement, such as the new ESTA rules proposed under the Trump administration, which require access to personal email and social media, threaten to limit participation. Such policies risk a substantial loss of perspective and opportunity, demonstrating just how complex and politically entangled science diplomacy has become.’ 

Grounds for cautious optimism 

Despite heightened geopolitical rivalry, Adler-Nissen’s research does not end in pessimism. Beneath the public rhetoric of technological competition, there are signs of quieter collaboration - at bureaucratic and technical levels, within companies and across institutions. 

‘International collaboration on AI currently appears very difficult, yet early findings from institutions suggest that pockets of cooperation may exist in new forms. This indicates that, as a global community, we may still be able to manage these technologies together. I am genuinely hopeful - it is not all doom and gloom.’ 

Employees inside technology firms debate responsibility and the potential for using these technologies for the common good. Civil servants explore regulatory cooperation. New forms of coordination may emerge that are less visible than summit diplomacy but no less significant. 

‘I would very much like to develop a theory of the new world we are living in – one that helps us navigate its complexity, which is often amplified by the protagonists themselves, but also reflects a fundamental curiosity about what we will discover. My hope is to nuance the debate around these technologies and the political struggles surrounding them. There is a lot of hype, but as we begin to examine the issues more closely, we may find that we are not as far apart as we sometimes think.’ 

Rebecca Adler-Nissen is Professor in the Department of Political Science, University of Copenhagen and Director of the National Centre for AI in Society (CAISA).