Things move slowly at NATO.  Part of this is by design, and part by nations sometimes prioritizing national interests over collective defense.  Progress at NATO is best measured not with a calendar, but by putting stakes in the ground and coming back every few years to see if anything has moved.

To be fair, bodies run by consensus often have this problem.  NATO’s additional quirkiness is that the official languages are French and English.  Add in the fact that, since NATO is a political and diplomatic body, every word in a document matters, and you can see that native speakers of English have not only certain advantages, but burdens as well.

Documents are drafted by consensus, in real time, around a table where with representatives of all 28 nations, moderated by a Chair appointed by the International Staff, who may or may not be a native English speaker.  Nothing is agreed until all is agreed.  A typical exchange on a document recommending dessert for a ministerial dinner might go something like this:

Chair:“Can we agree on the statement ‘ice cream is the preferred choice?’”

Country A: “Thank-you Mr. Chairman.  My capitol wishes to see ‘...a preferred choice’ as opposed to ‘the’”

Chair: “Thank-you very much...comments?  Country B?”

Country B: “Thank-you Mr. Chairman.  And I’d like to thank my colleague from ‘A’ for an insightful addition.  But I’d like to point out that we have already identified ice cream as the preferred choice in our communique language from the 1998 summit””

Chair: “Thank-you very much.  Comments from colleagues?  Country C?”

Country C: “Thank-you Mr. Chairman.  And thanks to my colleagues from A and B for this fruitful discussion.  But I would like to strike mention of ice cream from this document completely, as it pre-supposes a solution to the ministerial dessert dilemma.”

Chair: “And you have some proposed language?”

Country C: “Thank-you Mr. Chairman.  Yes, my capitol has recommended substituting the phrase ‘near frozen sweet cow juice with some chocolate bits’ as appropriate language.”

Chair: “Thank-you very much...comments?...Country D?”

Country D: “Thank-you Mr. Chairman.  But what about sorbets?  Are we not excluding another class of appropriate desserts for the ministers?  We would like to see it amended to ‘near frozen sweet cow juice with some chocolate bits, but not excluding, to the maximum extent practicable, other appropriate near frozen dessert solutions which most likely could, in all reasonable possibilities, serve as the basis for post-dining ministerial excursions’”

Chair: “Thank-you very much...no more comments?  This statement has grown very long, and I wonder if we could ask any of our native English speakers if there’s some way we could clean it up a bit...United States?”

US: “Thank-you Mr. Chairman.  Just from a readability standpoint, it certainly looks like English, but I’d like to note the sentence does run on for seven or eight lines with a lot of what may be unnecessary language...I think the original term ‘ice cream’ might have been the best.”

Chair: “Thank-you, thank-you very much.  Well, going  back to the original language...this is a very different kettle of shoes...comments?  Country E?”

Country E: “You’re all barking mad...”

Of course the above is just an illustrative example.  Discussions about ministerial desserts are reserved for the senior political committee.  But the pacing and flow are very representative.  The comment by the US is accurate, as I made it myself at a meeting regarding some language that was in the process of being gummed to death.  And the frustrated comment by ‘Country E’ is verbatim, following a twenty minute digression on the appropriate use of an adjective.