D

iplomatic rows are as common as spats between siblings. Usually driven by pride, misperception and emotional behavior.

Without belittling their substantial significance, diplomatic rows often start from nothing much and end up as nothing more.

That'€™s why Merriam-Webster'€™s defines a '€œrow'€ as '€œa noisy disturbance or quarrel'€.

History, proximity and the geographical footprint of a nation affect the frequency and intensity of diplomatic rows, while sociocultural congruity often helps to diffuse them.

Thus it should be no surprise that Indonesia'€™s rows often involve three countries: Singapore, Malaysia and Australia.

Political affinity probably also explains why the United States and Britain have been able to sustain their '€œspecial relationship'€.

The East Asian countries '€” China, Japan and South Korea '€” seem stuck in a perpetual cycle of quarrels sparked by territorial disputes, but fomented in bitter history that has yet to be reconciled. South Asia too has seen a succession of squabbles that led its peoples, who were once under one state, into wars.

Over the past year we have seen the regular share of common rows around the world.

Early last year, Indian and American diplomats were busy defusing an escalating row when India'€™s deputy consul general in New York was detained and rudely frisked for alleged visa fraud and underpaying a nanny.

New Delhi retaliated the violation of immunity by removing US Embassy security zones and revoking clearance passes that gave US diplomats immunity from searches at Indian airports.

The president of South Africa and his Rwandan counterpart in March last year agreed to hold a summit to defuse tensions after the two countries mutually expelled diplomats after the murder of an exiled Rwandan general in Johannesburg.

Meanwhile, the Gulf Cooperation Council faced a crisis as Bahrain, the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia withdrew their ambassadors from Qatar in protest against Doha'€™s foreign policy stance.

When President Joko '€œJokowi'€ Widodo decided to reject the clemency pleas of 64 people convicted of drug trafficking and hastened their executions, everyone knew that it would lead to an international outcry.

Indonesian diplomats around the world have been bracing themselves for uncomfortable situations given that 34 of the 64 drug traffickers on death row were foreigners from 15 countries '€” Malaysia with the highest at six followed by Nigeria with five.

That individual governments would respond and defend the interests of their nationals was a given. The temporary withdrawal of the Dutch and Brazilian ambassadors after the executions of their nationals was a predictable and reasonable move.

But as with any crisis, it is unnecessary escalation that makes it worse.

Indecorous gestures and rude remarks have now needlessly deteriorated the situation, in particularly with Brazil and Australia.

Rarely do threats induce the desired reaction. Often it is the exact opposite sought by the one escalating the situation.

All countries wear their hearts on their sleeves when their national pride is invoked. Indonesia is no different, if not especially so when faced with foreign pressure.

Fueled by its long revolutionary struggle against decolonization, it takes pride in being belligerent when need be. And makes drastic, albeit highly calculated, decisions to demonstrate and fuel that ego.

In 1992, then president Soeharto dissolved the Inter-Governmental Group on Indonesia (IGGI), which dispersed foreign aid to the country, after '€œhurtful'€ comments were made by its chair, Dutch minister of development cooperation Jan Pronk.

On Monday, we were already hearing retaliatory statements that could slow the sound cooperation being built with Brazil and Australia.

After the snafu over the canceled presentation of credentials of Indonesia'€™s ambassador designate to Brazil, top government officials here were already brushing the significance of Brazil aside.

Vice President Jusuf Kalla has suggested the '€œreevaluation'€ of the procurement of a fleet of Brazilian-made EMB-314 Super Tucano aircraft for the Air Force.

Brazilian President Dilma Rousseff has also said that the execution would have negative repercussions.

Last week, Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott also shot off his mouth when he implied that Jakarta should grant clemency to the Australians currently on death row as a mark of gratitude for his country'€™s aid for victims of the 2004
tsunami.

Kalla initially tried to play down the remarks by revealing that Australian Foreign Minister Julie Bishop had phoned him to clarify that Abbott was not seeking a return of favor for the aid.

Alas, the damage had been done.

In both cases the escalation seemed more directed toward satisfying a domestic constituency rather than diplomacy. A case of domestic posturing that is detrimental to long-term relations.

Bilateral trade between Indonesia and Brazil stands at some US$4 billion, accounting for less than 1 percent of Brazil'€™s $454 billion in foreign trade in 2014. Neither country has much to immediately lose or gain by a sudden jarring in diplomatic and economic ties.

Yet the repercussions of a breakdown of relations between two emerging giants of the southern hemisphere is symbolically more harmful.

Meanwhile, in Canberra it seems that Abbott needed a foreign controversy to rally support for his waning political support at home.

Australian diplomats had actually made inroads in its soft diplomacy and quiet lobbying over the past month in forwarding a case for a stay in execution for its nationals on death row. Whether or not it would have worked is now academic.

What has now evolved is beyond diplomatic correction, legal arguments or humanitarian pleas. If they were meant to save lives, then hope has been condemned.

Rousseff'€™s reaction and Abbott'€™s outburst have fueled a sentiment that is as good as signing the execution papers of their remaining nationals on death row themselves.