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The Nomad is a series of stories, fascinations, encounters, observations, experiences, joy of the moments by me, Ulrike Reinhard – all around my travels. Stay tuned!

Ulrike Reinhard is The Nomad 🙂


When NATO Tried to Break Its Own Rules

Chance favors the prepared mind. Once again, I found myself exactly where I needed to be, as the scattered points in my network began to connect and unlock their full strength. I got a contract with the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) in Brussels, Belgium, to set up an online platform and to bring together NATO officials with activists around the world. It was meant to bring a fresh perspective to NATO’s communication strategies ahead of the NATO Summit in Chicago in May 2012 – chaired by then-President Barack Obama. We called it we_NATO. 

I Don’t Waver on NATO

NATO’s strategies often left me unconvinced. I don’t believe in investing in the military to achieve peace. Maybe I’m naive – could be. I disagree with NATO’s actions in Libya during the Arab Spring to protect civilians against ‘rebels!’, and in Afghanistan. I question the necessity of pursuing Western national security interests in the Hindu Kush region. I’m uneasy with NATO’s push to include former Soviet states in the alliance. To me, NATO represents a massive, inflexible entity with no connection to the people of the countries of its military operations. After the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the Soviet Union, I feel like NATO lost its identity. It struggled to understand what it stood for in this new post-Cold War world. Based on what little I knew, this was my perspective, but it was strong and unwavering.

So, when this job opportunity comes along, via  Stefanie Babst, who was the head of public diplomacy at NATO back then, it’s a big deal for me. It is not easy to accept NATO as a client – how do I offer support and remain trustworthy when our views are so opposed? I spend sleepless nights grappling with a persistent sense of doubt. I bring it up with my online peers in profound, sometimes uncomfortable conversations. “Can I work for an organization I’ve been so critical of for years? Is this selling out?” The responses I got spanned a wide range, from outright rejection—“No, you can’t work with them”—to more supportive suggestions like, “Go ahead and see what you can learn!” I finally say, “I think this initiative could genuinely open up NATO’s boundaries – or at least make them more permeable. I’ll go for it!”

I decided to confront my ‘prejudices’ and trust the process. However, I don’t place my trust in the institution itself – I place it in Stefanie Babst. In a nutshell, being head of public diplomacy means being responsible for NATO’s overall global communications – including the NATO summit. Stefanie has been in this role since 2006, the highest position ever held by a woman within NATO without military rank. A mutual friend, Steffi Czerny – the heart and soul of the DLD_Women (Digital-Life-Design) conference – introduced us in June 2011.

Stefanie’s Bold Vision for NATO 

Stefanie is someone who thinks critically and questions the system from within. She is NOT the ‘normal’ bureaucrat. I was intrigued, and I wanted to know more. So, I share the details of our we-magazine project and urge her to agree to an interview. A few weeks later she invited me to NATO headquarters in Brussels and offered a surprising look ‘behind the scenes’.

She’s done her homework. She knows exactly who I am and what I’ve done in the online world. When the interview starts, I realize that she’s the best-prepared person I’ve ever interviewed. She speaks our ‘we_language’ seamlessly, as if it were second nature to her. She truly understands our vision and knows how to adapt it to NATO’s framework.

Stefanie describes NATO’s ‘WE’ as “…back then in 1949, 28 like-minded countries committed in a joint, participatory, and collaborative way to make life better (yes!) and more secure (yes!) and defend the membership countries’ shared democratic values (yes!).” She even explicitly references the ‘we_values’ I laid out earlier, agreeing that they align with NATO’s own set of values. But then, she admits something surprising: “Very often, these commitments are just words on paper. They’re hardly ever practiced,” she says, laughing.

Is the laughter her way of testing the waters, wondering if she’s speaking too openly? Or is it just her way of expressing the absurdity of the situation? Either way, she stands by her words. It’s bold, and I appreciate it. I published the interview on my YouTube channel – bravo, Stefanie!

Then she lays out her vision for NATO’s ‘greater WE,’ as she puts it, in terms that resonate with me. What should, or better, could NATO do when it does military operations in a country? “To create real alliances in places where NATO sends its troops, you need to make proper arrangements with the government, stakeholders, NGOs, and civil society,” she explains. She emphasizes that every military operation needs a civil component – specialists who can connect with locals, and build relationships, trust, and confidence.

Her words are a revelation to me. It’s good news. Very openly, Stefanie refers to NATO’s past mistakes in the Balkans, acknowledging them as lessons learned. She insists that NATO is trying to do much better in Afghanistan, particularly by reinforcing the civil component. She talks about the joint planning and partnerships with civilians, NGOs, and other partners. She tells me that NATO has improved the training of its troops in social and cultural skills. When I ask her how far NATO has progressed in this area, she responds honestly: “We’re just starting now. Five years ago, these steps were unthinkable.”

At that moment, Stefanie earns my trust. Her openness and willingness to reflect on the past while pushing for change inspire me. I leave the interview with renewed energy and a sense of purpose. I’m determined to activate my network, rallying activists around the world to participate in we_NATO. This could be the start of something bigger, a chance to build bridges between NATO and the global activist community. 

Despite my initial skepticism for the institution NATO, Stefanie’s determination and ability to navigate the system inspires me to push forward. She understands the challenges we are facing, from internal resistance to external skepticism. However, she also believes in the potential of we_NATO to spark meaningful conversations, not just within NATO but with the broader global community.

Watch my interview with Stefanie Babst

we_NATO Takes Shape

After the interview, Stefanie and I sat down to discuss the communication strategy for the upcoming NATO summit. She leans in, her voice steady but excited. “We’re planning several new online initiatives,” she says. “By ‘new,’ I mean something that breaks away from our usual communication.”

I nod but raise an eyebrow. “That sounds promising, but what’s the plan? It feels… broad.”

“That’s the thing. We don’t have it nailed down yet. I am not sure what we can do and how.” she said. “But we need to create something that shows NATO’s ‘greater WE’ – a way to connect WITH people, not just talk TO them and feed them with what we want them to know.”

“Okay,” I say. “I think I can help with that. Let’s develop formats that push past the traditional NATO communication style.”

She lights up. “Exactly! I want us to reach leaders, activists, the voices shaping the online world – outside our own bubble. We are not connected with them. But I feel we need to be! And I want to open this door for us with we_NATO. That’s where you come in.”

Over the next few weeks, I teamed up with one of Stefanie’s staff members to develop the concept for we_NATO.org. It’s simple at its core: connect NATO officials with outside experts and activists to bring in fresh, diverse perspectives on summit topics like Afghanistan, the Middle East, smart defense, and Russia.

“Why don’t we use open, interactive formats?” I suggested it in one of our brainstorming sessions. “Think live video chats with people like Joi Ito from MIT Media Lab, Peter Kruse in Germany, or Don Tapscott from Canada. We could also bring in David Weinberger – these guys are network experts, they know what they are talking about and they’d spark some real conversation.”

Stefanie’s colleague pauses, then nods. “That’s bold! Do you think they’d agree to participate?”

“I’ll ask,” I say with a grin. “Let’s also get NATO Secretary General Anders Fogh Rasmussen in a live stream. Add video interviews with external experts who can challenge NATO’s positions – like on drone use.”

She taps her pen on the table. “What about personal stories? Frontline troops, for example.”

“Yes! Let’s have them share experiences directly with the world,” I say. “And we can include Afghan women who’ve worked with NATO, Middle Eastern activists discussing collaborations, and open online discussions with everyday people.”

We refine the ideas over several sessions. By November 2011, Stefanie and her colleagues gave me the green light to lead the initiative, six months before the summit. 

What Gives we_NATO Its Edge

As we discuss the project, I realize this is not just about technology or public relations – it is about challenging existing paradigms. The platform is to be an experiment in collaboration, attempting to blend the rigid structure of a global military alliance with the dynamic, free-flowing energy of grassroots activism in the outside world. This is no small task. 

The more I immerse myself in the project, the more I notice the stark contrast between NATO’s hierarchical structure and the decentralized, network-driven approach that activism thrives on, which we aim to bring into the organization with we_NATO. NATO’s rigid framework leaves little room for creativity or failure, whereas grassroots movements demand flexibility and the courage to disrupt. This tension became a defining feature of the work, testing my patience as well as the patience of all we_NATO team members – it needed to be resolved to get we_NATO off the ground.  

Hierarchy Versus Network

Stefanie, the we_NATO team, and I spent the Christmas and New Year’s break of 2011/2012 finalizing our plans and schedule. The excitement is palpable, but so is the weight of what we’re trying to achieve. We all know we’re about to challenge not just our team members but NATO as an organization.

From day one, NATO has applied well-practiced hierarchical structures, particularly in how it communicates with the outside world. It’s a finely tuned machine: precise, predictable, and entirely top-down. Everyone knows their role; every action fits seamlessly into the chain of command. But what we’re proposing for we_NATO is radically different. These new, interactive formats demand an approach that upends everything the organization is used to. Familiar routines will no longer suffice, and the team must be ready to face whatever comes its way.

For one, control over the agenda will no longer lie exclusively with NATO. In interactive formats, anyone can bring up any topic, at any time. Disruptions and unforeseen events aren’t just likely – they’re inevitable.

Then there’s the speed of the online world. Interactive formats move at lightning speed compared to NATO’s deliberate processes. There’s no time for the usual hierarchical approval loops. Replies must be immediate.

This shift requires a significant cultural leap. The staff will no longer wait for permission to speak – they’ll have their own ‘uncensored’ voice. It’s empowering, but also unnerving. Can the hierarchy tolerate this? Suddenly, it’s not just a select few who represent NATO to the world. Everyone on the team has a voice.

Would the organization allow this level of freedom? Would the team have carte blanche to publish content on the website in real-time? And what if they made a mistake? The online audience expects authenticity and transparency. Any heavy-handed intervention from above would backfire spectacularly, guaranteeing a public relations disaster.

Even more daunting are the technical skills required. Writing press releases and preparing statements for senior staff follows a well-defined structure. The tools and workflows are ingrained in NATO’s DNA. But these new digital platforms require a completely different skill set. Besides being familiar with platforms, tools, and netiquette to ensure effective and respectful interactions, online communication often requires brevity and adaptability to asynchronous conversations, while remaining sensitive to the diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds of a global online audience. Learning on the fly will become a necessity for all team members.

And then there’s the structure of the we_NATO team. Its members come from various NATO departments and report to different superiors. Stefanie’s authority is limited to her immediate team. Will team members who do not directly report to Steffi be given enough time and freedom by their superiors to commit to this initiative fully? Steffi is collaborating with her fellow managers to ensure their staff has the autonomy needed for we_NATO to succeed. And I know she’s up against pushback. Not everyone is embracing the interactive approach we’ve chosen for we_NATO.  

Each challenge is part of the larger, looming question: Can NATO adapt and shift seamlessly between its hierarchical structure outside we_NATO and yet provide the fluid, network-driven approach we_NATO demands?

We tackle these issues head-on in a few workshops, doing our best to prepare the team. But time isn’t on our side. There’s only so much we can cover, and we’re painfully aware of how much remains unaddressed. The tension within the team to fulfill the task is undeniable but so is the opportunity. The launch date is set, and there’s no turning back.

The Empire Strikes Back

The content we had prepared on we_NATO.org for the launch includes the summit topics, the vision of we_NATO including my interview with Stefanie, and a rough schedule for upcoming events and publications. With its launch, the NATO PR machinery roars to life. And when it roars, it really roars. Press releases regarding the intention of the new platform are sent out, social media announcements are made – all media channels are fed. It’s a big media buzz. Processes grind into motion with precision, performed by people who might as well be robots. Every step is locked into place. 

The NATO PR engine is firing on all cylinders, accompanied by the usual top-down protocols. This has always been NATO’s way, and we_NATO was just more of the same. Our ideas with we_NATO couldn’t withstand. They were just rolled over and buried below. The vision of open, eye-level dialogue with outsiders quickly succumbed to the dominance of NATO’s traditional frameworks. For every video, every live event, every article, we have to wade through a bureaucratic swamp. Approvals take weeks, sometimes months. Resistance meets us at every turn. Requests for NATO officials or ambassadors are met with vague deferrals or outright silence.

Soon after the launch I had a call with Stefanie: “We’re trapped,” she says, rubbing her temples. “The old system has us completely boxed in. ”

She isn’t exaggerating. “The old system is pushing back,” I say. “ It’s striking back – hard. It shows us how processes should be. There is no space for the new.”

Stefanie sighs: “We’re drowning. The team is overwhelmed, buried under the weight of the hierarchy. I have not much space to maneuver as my management colleagues do NOT support we_NATO”

She’s right. The we_NATO team struggles to stay afloat. Texts languish in endless revisions. Videos are polished until their messages are dull. Open discussion? Impossible. Critical voices? Not allowed.

The breaking point comes when we plan a live chat with Secretary General Rasmussen. “We need to send in the questions in advance,” a senior official informs me during a meeting.

“What?” I say, leaning forward in disbelief. “It’s a live chat. The point is real-time conversation.”

They shake their heads. “That’s not how we do things!”

It is so obvious. we_NATO is NOT wanted. “They’ve turned this into a farce,” I say to Stefanie, my voice tight with frustration.

She nods, her expression grim. We sit in silence for a long moment, both of us painfully aware that we’re witnessing, in real-time, the system crushing the very innovation we tried to build. We had no chance of pushing back – the massive old machinery easily outpowered the tiny, fragile ‘network sapling’ we hoped to grow.

My Exit And The Aftermath

I canceled my contract with NATO on March 8, 2012. It’s World Women’s Day, a day meant to celebrate women’s achievements. 

The night before, I sat hunched over my laptop, editing a video I feel truly proud of. It’s raw, real, and unpolished – a portrait of rural Afghan women fighting for their children’s education, especially for their daughters. Their words are simple but powerful. One woman, her hands worn from years of hard work, looks directly into the camera. “We face so many obstacles,” she says. “But we do this because we want a better future for our children. This is our only way out!”

I replay her words, watching her face. You can see the weight of her struggles and the depth of her love. This woman isn’t affiliated with any NGO or government agency – she is “just” a mother who feels she must act. It’s authentic, truthful. A sincere attempt to reach beyond NATO’s walls, worthy of recognition.

By the time I finish editing, dawn is breaking. I upload the video as agreed with Steffi and lean back in my chair, exhausted but satisfied. “This,” I think, “is what we_NATO should be about.” I can’t wait to send the link to the women in Afghanistan, to let them know their voices are heard and respected.

But the next morning, I open the site and freeze. My video isn’t there. Instead, NATO has uploaded a glossy, polished image film. Afghan women shaking hands with U.S. generals. Children in neat uniforms standing in front of a freshly painted school. It’s a staged, feel-good montage that erases the truth of the women’s struggles.

I slam my laptop shut and try to call Steffi. I can’t get a hold of her. So I wrote her an email: “What happened to the video?” was my only question. 

“It doesn’t fit the narrative NATO wants for Women’s Day” – that was Steffi’s reply. 

I feel my chest tighten. Fit the narrative? These are real women. Their stories matter! I sit in stunned silence for a while before replying. “This isn’t what we signed up for. This isn’t the vision we shared.”

The rest of the day, I walk around in a haze, my frustration mounting. Months of effort – every proposal, every plan – rejected or watered down into nothingness. Brick walls at every turn. By evening, I’ve made my decision. I wrote another email to Stefanie. “I’m done,” I write. “I’m canceling my contract. This isn’t about money. It’s about values. And I won’t sacrifice mine to be part of the NATO PR-machine.” I stepped away from a project that could have been something extraordinary but was crushed under the weight of hierarchy and image control.

World Women’s Day becomes a bittersweet reminder of the fight for authenticity – and the strength to walk away when it’s lost.

Reality sets in 

By the time the summit ends, we_NATO.org is still limping along, but barely. Polished statements and carefully edited videos flood the platform, but the interactive formats we envisioned – the ones meant to bridge NATO with activists and others – never materialize. Conversations with locals in the affected regions? Nonexistent. 

The repercussions hit me hard. My online peers, especially those in the Arab community, are watching closely. Some accuse me of failing to deliver on promises. Others say I’ve sold my soul to the enemy – they don’t acknowledge that I stepped out; I am not sure if this was pure ignorance on their side or simply not on their screen. NATO had done what they expected NATO would do. And this fed the existing tremendous hate against NATO and its Western Allies who’ve been long backing repressive Arab regimes. People were ready to interact with NATO and to raise their voices – but the chance was gone. Killed. In no time. A toxic mix of frustration and hate was building up.

It was March 2012 when I attended an activism conference in Tunis. Ben Ali was ousted, the country was struggling to liberate itself from tyranny, and just next door in Libya, NATO had intervened to protect civilians from the forces of Libyan leader Muammar Qaddafi. The local people didn’t ask NATO to do so. It was seen as another attempt to gain power and oppress the locals, not to help. So tensions are flying high. In the lead-up to the conference I have long conversations with the organizers. “I’ll skip my speech,” I tell them. “Let’s just open the floor for questions; I am sure there are many. And maybe it’s an opportunity to explain what has really happened with we_NATO. It feels more honest.”

When I arrive in Tunis, a friend picks me up from the airport. We walk across a plaza toward the venue, the sound of distant traffic blending with snippets of conversation around us. Spring is in the air, and the sun is warming our backs as we walk. We are discussing the situation and possible outcomes of my talk. Suddenly, two men rushed at us from the side. I barely register the glint of knives before chaos erupts. One attacker lunges at me, stabbing my upper arm. My friend steps in, fighting them off as best he can. He yells for help, but the damage is done. By the time others pull the attackers away, blood covers the pavement like a battlefield.

In the hospital later, I sat by my friend’s bed, his face pale. He has lost his leg. My chest is tightened with guilt and gratitude. “I don’t even know what to say,” I whisper, tears in my eyes. He manages a weak smile. “You’ll figure it out,” he says, his voice dry. “But let’s be clear – I lost my leg defending NATO!” 

Despite the pain, his humor cuts through the moment’s weight, and I can’t help but smile. We are lucky to be alive. 

The attackers are detained, and the conference is canceled. The next morning, I insisted on leaving the hospital to return to Germany for further treatment. But before I go, I make a decision: I want to talk to the attackers, and I pull out all the stops to make it happen.

The prison visit is cathartic. Separated by a glass wall, we face each other in silence. The two men avoid my gaze at first, their eyes flicking to the floor. Finally, I speak. My voice trembles but stays steady. “I’m not here to accuse you,” I say. “I need to understand why this happened.”

They look up, startled. Slowly, the tension eases. I press my palms to the glass, and after a moment, they do the same. Tears well in their eyes, and I feel the warmth of their hands through the barrier.

At that moment, my fear and apprehension vanished. I feel at peace. That is the moment I was hoping for – I wanted to leave Tunis in peace. And I was able to. It was my way and therapy to overcome this shocking event at the square. 

We talk frankly, free of anger or accusations. They explain their hatred of NATO and its allies, and their frustration with decades of Western support for Arab dictators. “To us,” one of them says, “you were the enemy. A traitor. An easy target.”

I nod, absorbing their words. “I see where you’re coming from,” I say. “But I hope you can see why I did what I did, too.”

I can’t stop their trial or their sentences – ten years each – but I submit a request for clemency. It’s the least I can do.

One of them was released from prison during Covid and and now leads a family life with a small child in Tunis. The other tragically took his own life during the first year of his sentence.

Stefanie’s Reassignment

Back at NATO, changes unfold after the summit. Stefanie is reassigned to a new role – one that’s clearly a demotion. “They told me before Christmas that they have a new job for me and that I had to step down as head of public diplomacy,” she confides during one of our last conversations. “Not much of an explanation. Just… ‘Your services won’t be needed after the summit.’ I assume we_NATO went a step too far, was too challenging and ‘liberal.’ I overstepped a red line.”

I shake my head. “That’s brutal.” But obviously, the way NATO handles dissent. 

She sighs. “I won’t lie – it’s a blow.”

Despite everything, I still admire her resilience. During the summit’s buildup, she pushes the limits wherever she can, advocating for ideas she knows won’t be welcomed. “She fought the good fight,” I think to myself.

12 Years Later

The sun beats down as I step off the plane in Tunis in the summer of 2024. The familiar warmth of the Mediterranean air wrapping around me. It’s been years since the attack, but the memories always come flooding back when I return. This time, it’s not just the past I’m carrying. Tucked into my bag is a digital copy of Stefanie’s book, Blind Spots.

I sit in a café near the old Medina, scrolling through the pages on my tablet. Stefanie doesn’t hold back. “NATO is strategically challenged,” she writes. “It’s failing to adapt to the changing nature of global conflicts, stuck in a loop of institutional inertia.” Her analysis cuts deep, especially for anyone who’s seen the inside of the organization. I can easily apply much of what she is writing to what I’ve experienced with we_NATO. It feels good to read these lines at the place where I was attacked because I was working with NATO. And it provides me with some comfort for the difficult task I came for. 

I’ve come to honor my friend who saved my life that day in the plaza. He’s gone now, brutally killed in one of Assad’s prisons. He had helped locals in Syria to set up an online platform to make their voices heard when he was arrested. He had done the same in Tunisia. At his memorial service, the air is thick with grief. His family and friends gather in silence, their faces etched with pain. I stay back, letting them have their moment. When I finally approach his wife, she takes my hands in hers.

“He believed in something bigger,” she says, her voice trembling.

I nod, struggling to hold back tears. “He gave everything for it.” 

Later that night, I sat alone in my hotel room, staring at the ceiling. Memories of that day in the plaza blend with the brutal reality of his death. The trip takes its toll. The emotional weight of it all – my friend’s death, the memories of the attack, the struggles my peers face – presses down on me. “So many have died,” I say to myself. “And for what? For living by their values?”

And I was asking myself: At what point does my commitment to my principles cease?
When I might lose a job?
A friend? A relationship?
When my family is at risk?
When my life is on the line?

I don’t know.

I’ve given up jobs before. Lost friends. Ended relationships. I’ve never knowingly endangered my family, but have I exposed them to risks? Probably.

Would I give up my life for my values?

The answer doesn’t come easily. Probably not. I am not a hero.

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