Friday was a mixed bag of emotions for me. On one hand, I was happily celebrating the successful end of 10 months of Burmese study. I was busy running errands around town, completing lab work, seeing my doctor to fill prescriptions before moving to Burma, using the official pouch to save my precious suitcase space and advance work-related materials to myself in Rangoon, and driving my husband V to his urgent dental surgery.

But on the other hand, as V and I were making every effort to deconstruct our lives in the United States and prepare to move ourselves and all our stuff on overseas government orders, we were paradoxically also both monitoring our work emails to see if we were losing our jobs. That’s right, losing our jobs. On Friday, the Department of State fired more than 1,300 U.S.-based employees via email, including almost 250 Foreign Service Officers (FSOs).

I am happy to say neither V nor I received such an email. But we could have. And hundreds who we know and respect, did.

I have seen Reductions in Force (RIFs) before over the course of my nearly 20 years of federal service. It’s not surprising to me that, from time to time, government agencies must evaluate their budgets and goals, realign with new executive branch mandates and priorities, and, if necessary, streamline or restructure the workforce. We have a responsibility to be good stewards of taxpayer dollars and to prioritize delivering excellent service to the American public. We are proud of our ability to pivot operationally.

What is surprising to me is the way this reduction is being carried out, and who it is affecting. In fact, the recent application of a RIF process to FSOs represents a significant shift in how the U.S. government manages its diplomatic workforce.

---

Traditionally, the Foreign Service has been exempt from RIF procedures that apply to Civil Service government employees, in part due to the unique nature of our worldwide availability, tenure system, and up-or-out promotion structure. However, recent developments suggest the State Department has found a legal and procedural pathway to apply RIF-like mechanisms to FSOs. Obviously, this has raised alarm across the diplomatic corps.

I have always relished the apolitical nature of this job and the relative job security compared to the private sector. Yes, one can make an argument that the State Department is not the most nimble or efficient bureaucracy. I have had my own frustrations with my employer, which are not atypical.

But I love, love, love my job. I am a patriot to the core. If someone had told me a few years ago that what is happening now could actually occur, I would have flatly disagreed. I won’t dignify the various allegations that the building is full of left-leaning individuals working to undermine the conservative policy agenda—except to say this: In my 20 years of federal service under the Bush, Obama, Trump, Biden, and now Trump II administrations, I have never encountered a single career employee who couldn’t distinguish between their professional responsibilities and their personal (and, I might add, private) beliefs.

We all have and will continue to apolitically serve the American people at the behest of each elected administration unless and until we cannot, and that is each individual officer’s line to draw. We also take an oath to the Constitution, not to any elected leader, in support of professional, nonpartisan diplomacy. See also my previous post about the Pendleton Act.

All of the layoff information is in the public space now, so I’m going to do my best to explain it.

---

How did diplomats become subject to a RIF?

I’m not an expert on what has changed, and I’m not an attorney. But according to what I understand, no single amendment to the Foreign Service Act of 1980 appears to have explicitly authorized the use of RIF against tenured FSOs. Instead, the shift seems to come from an administrative reinterpretation of existing authority combined with adjustments in Foreign Affairs Manual (FAM) guidance and HR practices.

Four months ago, in March, the president issued Executive Order (EO) 14251, which broadly removed collective bargaining rights from State Department and USAID Foreign Service units by deeming them “national security” or “investigative” in nature. This meant excluding us from the Federal Service Labor‑Management Relations Statute, and stripping our union, the American Foreign Service Association (AFSA) of its statutorily protected status to negotiate or represent members.

Following the EO, State Department officials ceased communication with AFSA on employment issues, removed AFSA representatives from their offices, prevented dues payroll deductions, and excluded AFSA from grievance processes and grievance board representation.

This effectively severed AFSA’s access to members, undermining its legal representation role and slashing its revenue by more than 80%.

Simultaneously, the State Department revised FAM sections related to RIF procedures and employment conditions without consulting AFSA. Sections governing RIF protocols (e.g. 3 FAM 2580) were revised or temporarily blanked out and republished—with no collective bargaining or union notice.

The Department decided to narrow competitive units for RIF, now based on individual office instead of bureau level—which can bypass the fair scoring and seniority systems AFSA as our union had previously negotiated. Internal AFSA communications and draft FAM guidance show that these changes were instituted while excluding AFSA from deliberations, in direct conflict with AFSA’s bargaining rights under the Foreign Service Act.

For those who want to get into the even deeper weeds, more specifically, 5 FAM 1200 and 3 FAM 6200 outline policies on workforce planning and separation, including the rarely used “selection out for relative performance.” These FAM sections may have been interpreted more aggressively in recent cases to allow for broader application of separation authority beyond performance or misconduct.

The Department also appears to be leaning on provisions in 22 U.S.C. § 4011 and § 4012, which govern separation for cause and separation for expiration of time-limited appointments. However, the reinterpretation of “suitability” or “continued need” under workforce reshaping initiatives—potentially due to budget constraints or strategic realignment—might now be invoked to justify separations that resemble a RIF.

It’s important to understand that the FAM does not explicitly prohibit RIF for FSOs. However, prior practice and interpretations effectively shielded us by emphasizing the career service nature of the Foreign Service, its rank-in-person system, and the fact that assignments vary constantly. The current interpretation may blur this distinction, focusing instead on whether the Department can justify releasing officers due to restructuring or redundancy—essentially repurposing Civil Service RIF language. This is frustrating, because the Civil Service operates totally differently than we do.

Impact

This new RIF approach is controversial because it challenges a core principle of the Foreign Service system: that employment is not contingent on a current assignment. FSOs are expected to rotate every 2–3 years, including between overseas and domestic tours, and our employment continues through transitions, training, language study, or gaps between posts.

Subjecting FSOs to a RIF-like process could undermine this flexibility and the concept of rank-in-person, as it implies that one’s job security might be tied to current placement or perceived demand for a particular cone or skillset. By our very nature we are generalists: we must develop skills across a range of assignments, conal work, and locations.

“There’s no bad assignment,” senior leaders and mentors often express. “I’ve learned something important from every FS job that has helped me develop into a better officer.” And I couldn’t agree more. It’s that depth and breath of experience that allows for better policy debates, and more informed reporting from the field to Washington.

Moreover, due process concerns have been raised. RIF procedures in the Civil Service are governed by clear rules for retention, seniority, and appeals. Applying a similar process to FSOs without equivalent statutory protections or transparency could expose the Department to legal challenges or allegations of arbitrary dismissal.

In sum, while there may not have been a formal change to the FS Act or FAM explicitly authorizing a RIF against FSOs, a new interpretive stance seems to have taken hold—likely driven by internal policy guidance, shifting personnel needs, or broader federal workforce management strategies. This evolving approach is creating significant uncertainty for career diplomats like me, who previously relied on the assumption that our continued employment was based on tenure, performance, and worldwide availability—not our current post or staffing pattern.

---

After the pandemic, I served a domestic assignment in a Washington, DC office under the Bureau of Consular Affairs. In that position, I handled international parental child abductions between the United States and several other countries in the hemisphere.

One of my extra portfolios was to serve on the bidding team for our office. During the bid season, I coordinated interviews with FS bidders interested in the assignments we had coming available as the incumbent officers PCS’d to their next assignments.

Even though we had many great positions open during bidding season, almost all the bidders preferred remote telework jobs due to the high cost of living in Washington. Our leadership wanted employees who could work in person. But across the Department—not just in our bureau—the transition from teleworking in comfortable clothes at home to managing office attire, stressful commutes, expensive parking, and mostly-empty buildings made DC-based jobs a hard sell. Many positions remained unfilled as bidders secured remote assignments in other offices. Everyone had a job; we just needed an onward assignment.

I can’t imagine how difficult it will be to convince officers to take headquarters assignments now—knowing that, instead of simply being reassigned, they could be subject to a RIF the next time an administration decides their office is no longer a priority.

---

And of course, there are many other problems with hollowing out a country’s diplomatic institutions which are beyond the limits of my emotional energy to explain right now. I need to go try and prepare for my packout without thinking about what a great turn of events this is for America’s enemies.

A respected senior colleague who recently resigned has written about the human side of what’s happening right now more credibly and articulately than I ever could. So I am going to republish her Substack article below in its entirety, and you can reference the original at the link, for as long as it is up.

---

---

---

How Do You Fire a Calling? How the State Department Ends a Public Service Calling

Diplomacy doesn’t end with a press release. It ends in silence, in erasure, in inboxes that no longer open. Quietly, Violently, and Without Ceremony

KATHERINE NTIAMOAH

JUL 11, 2025

There’s no graceful way to be let go. And when it happens at the State Department, it feels even sharper. Because it’s not just a job that disappears, it’s the oath you took. The years you gave. The bidding. The language tests. The sacrifice. The holidays you missed. The family you moved again and again. The risks to your life and your family’s lives. You accepted it all because this work mattered. That you mattered.

Today, the department will begin deep, sweeping reductions in force. The language they used was careful. Restructuring. Reorganizing. Reimagining. What it really means is that people are losing their jobs. People who served multiple administrations. People who built coalitions no one wrote stories about. People who stayed late in embassies to draft the talking points for visits that made America safer, stronger, and more prosperous. People who advocated, de-escalated, translated, and stood in the middle when things got hard. This isn’t just loss. It’s betrayal. Dignified on paper. Cruel in practice.

I am a former diplomat. I still know what that room feels like. The buzz of a classified terminal. The half-sighs in country team meetings when the intel isn’t good. The way you train your voice to stay measured, even when your blood pressure spikes. The thrill of hearing your name next to an assignment you never thought you’d get. The weight of saying goodbye too many times.

So when I hear that these roles are being cut, I don’t picture boxes and badge collections. I picture people. I picture the colleague who did five straight hardship tours because she didn’t want to lose momentum. I picture the public diplomacy officer who built programs from nothing in places where they didn’t even have reliable Wi-Fi and a minuscule budget. I picture the consular officer who cried in the car after an immigrant visa denial because he carried that moment with him for weeks.

These are not just employees. They are memory-keepers. Bridge-builders. Veterans of a thousand small negotiations. They’ve written cables in windowless rooms at 2 a.m. They’ve been yelled at in foreign ministries and kept their cool. They’ve fought for funding that was always just out of reach. They’ve done the invisible work diplomacy demands, constantly, and without glory.

And now, they’re being told their service is no longer needed. There’s something haunting about the way institutions erase people. First, they remove your email. Then, your profile disappears from the staff directory. The calls stop. The access is gone. People whisper, “Did you hear who got cut?” The body’s still warm, but the obituary’s already written.

They call this progress. They say it’s part of modernizing the foreign service. Streamlining the workforce. Making way for “new priorities.” But I’ve seen what gets lost when experience is thrown away. You lose the nuance. You lose the relationships that took years to build. You lose the institutional memory that helps you navigate hard times without making the same mistakes again. The people being let go aren’t the ones who coasted. They’re the ones who said yes. Yes to Baghdad. Yes to Kabul. Yes to working without pay during a shutdown. Yes to assignments that required them to live apart from their families for a year or more. They said yes because they believed in the mission. Because they believed public service still meant something. But belief doesn’t pay the bills. Belief doesn’t protect you from a spreadsheet that decides you’re no longer necessary.

I read the internal memos. The ones that say things like “we appreciate your service” or “this decision does not reflect on your performance.” But those lines don’t land. Because the people reading them have spent their careers making sure words matter. They know when a statement is empty. They know when a note is drafted to be legally defensible, not human.

I wish I could say this was the first time. But we’ve done this before. After budget cuts. After policy shifts. After administrations that gutted agencies with a smile. We talk about resilience like it’s a virtue. But at some point, resilience just becomes another way to say “you survived what we never should have made you endure.”

There’s a thread on Reddit right now where people are sharing what it’s like to get cut. Some are still in shock. Others are scrambling to find next steps. A few are trying to be upbeat, but you can see the fear between the lines. This kind of loss doesn’t just hit your wallet. It hits your sense of self. It makes you question everything you gave and whether any of it mattered.

Some will find a way forward. Others will quietly disappear from the professional circles they used to lead. They’ll stop coming to events. They’ll update their LinkedIn profiles with vague phrases. They’ll smile when people say “You’ll land on your feet,” but inside, they’ll still be trying to figure out who they are without the job that defined them for a decade or more. 

I keep thinking about all the times I was told, “This is a career, this is a lifestyle, not just a job.” And it was true. Until it wasn’t. The moment a budget line needed trimming, careers became disposable. Institutional loyalty wasn’t met with reciprocity. It was met with templates and HR-speak.

I think about the ones who still have to show up today, even after their friends are being pushed out. The survivors. The ones who know their time could be next. The ones doing extra work to fill the gaps. The ones pretending everything is fine because that’s what we’re trained to do. They are grieving, too. But there’s no space for it. No time. No permission.

There is so little humanity in how we let people go. No one gets to stand up and speak about what the person meant to their team. No one gets to say thank you in a way that sticks. No one says, “You mattered.” Instead, it’s just, “Here’s the exit package. Please sign.”

There are essays in the Harvard Business Review about job loss, heartbreak, and identity collapse. They talk about the stages of grief. The importance of finding meaning. But meaning feels like a luxury when what you’re feeling is rage. When what you want is acknowledgment. When what you need is someone to say, “This was wrong, and it shouldn’t have happened this way.”

I’ve always believed that diplomacy was about relationships. About listening. About showing up, especially when it’s hard. That principle doesn’t end at the edge of a foreign capital. It should apply here, too. To how we treat our own. To how we hold space for loss. To how we remember the people who gave everything and were still told it wasn’t enough.

If you’re reading this and you were let go, I want to say what no official document will. You mattered. What you built mattered. What you carried mattered. The long nights, the forgotten weekends, the emergency evacuations, the speeches you rewrote in the back of armored cars. They mattered. Even if no one prints your name in a farewell cable. Even if the department pretends you were never there.

You were there. And you made something real. And I’m sorry that wasn’t enough to keep you safe. What does it mean to serve a country that doesn’t protect you when you stop being useful? What does it mean to build a career in a system that will cut you loose without ceremony? These aren’t rhetorical questions. They’re real. And they deserve real answers.

Because job loss at this scale is not just a budget decision. It’s a crisis of values. It’s a question of whether we treat our people as assets or as numbers. It’s about whether we understand that institutional knowledge and emotional labor are worth protecting.

I hope there will be hearings. I hope there will be pressure. But more than that, I hope we stop pretending this was anything but violent. Cutting people from a mission they gave their lives to is violent. Asking them to smile through it is abusive. And refusing to name the harm is cowardice. So let’s name it. Let’s sit in the discomfort. Let’s grieve what’s been lost, not just the jobs, but the trust. There will be time for recovery. For rebuilding. For next steps. But not today. Today is for mourning. And noticing.

---

---

---

See also:

Gift article: https://www.nytimes.com/2025/07/11/us/politics/trump-state-department-layoffs.html?unlocked_article_code=1.WE8.D5zl.tpoYWPb76BGh&smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/trump-administration/veteran-us-diplomats-baffled-mass-layoffs-state-department-rcna218433

https://www.foxnews.com/politics/state-department-ax-1800-employees.amp

https://www.reuters.com/legal/litigation/state-department-says-it-will-fire-more-than-1350-workers-trumps-shake-up-2025-07-11/

https://www.politico.com/news/2025/07/11/state-department-layoffs-00449590

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/jul/11/state-department-layoffs-rif