The burgerflipper attitude towards foreign policy and diplomacy

Respect the craft and value expertise, but reject the rigid structures, outdated hierarchies, and performative rituals that dominate the field.

I was a burgerflipper. For young suburban kids in the eighties, that first job gave you a new outlook on life. Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights spent at the deep fryer, the prep table, cleaning tables, serving customers, and of course, flipping burgers. Customers were either sad and dejected or arrogant and demanding; bosses were much the same, they’d either given up on life or thought the world revolved round the three-minute service promise. Every Saturday night, you clocked off with the smell of burgers and fries soaked into your hair and skin. You went out with friends and realized the money earned hardly covered eating where you worked, and knowing the kitchen, didn't want to eat there nohow.

The entire experience gave you a healthy disrespect for the adult world, a sturdy distrust of authority, and a certain understanding of why shit goes down. Yet, in those few minutes of calm between the last customer and cleaning the grease trays, there was a sense of camaraderie. It was the realization that every one of you was treading water in the mid-ocean - a world where everything’s f@^%$d and there’s no way to fix it. 

This is where the burgerflipper attitude comes from, but let’s dive a tad deeper. 

On the surface, the burgerflipper attitude reflects societal views on work, ambition, and worth. It’s used to ridicule labor and also used as a testament to its value. It construes ideals on economic inequality, the limits to upward mobility, escapism and contentment, or personal and career growth. Tucked into the mix are generational and cultural critiques of work ethics and societal change. For me and many others, not so deep, it simply meant the attitude you brought to work and to life.

Deeper down, the burgerflipper attitude is a mindset of defiance and irreverence toward authority and imposed rules. Burgerflippers reject the assumed expertise, arbitrary expectations, and micromanagement of those in higher positions, especially when they seem out of touch or fail to respect the value of burgerflipper work. Instead of striving to meet external standards, burgerflippers prioritize their own sense of autonomy and authenticity. It’s a nonchalant, rebellious approach that conveys a quiet power: the performance of duties well enough to maintain position but the refusal to let the system dictate identity or worth.

The attitude fosters a sense of camaraderie between colleagues who share similar frustrations and skills that surpass the appreciation of their customers and/or supervisors. Within the hierarchy of the kitchen, there’s an unspoken bond among the workers who “get it”—those who are perhaps more talented, experienced, or insightful than their roles or customers might suggest. The customers are part of the system they resist: demanding, clueless about the labor involved, and totally undeserving of the effort put in. The bosses are similarly part of the system: clueless, inept, and servile. The shared recognition of this dynamic creates a tight-knit subculture of mutual respect and humor in the kitchen, and provides mental relief from the monotony and frustrations of the job. 

To be clear, it’s not an attitude of laziness or mediocrity—it’s about redefining the terms of engagement. Burgerflippers have pride in their skill and efficiency, and perform tasks with precision and efficiency that goes unremarked. It’s more about avoiding the compulsion to over-invest in a system that undervalues you, sets boundaries, and hinders creativity. There’s an irreverence toward authority that finds the light in subversive self-expression. The attitude is less about apathy and more about reclaiming agency in an environment that demands blind adherence to unearned authority. 

This is the burger flipper attitude. It extends well beyond the kitchen and into every realm of human society. It follows you quietly through life, subdued as you polish your resume, apply for higher paying jobs, and conform to expectations. Yet, that attitude is always there just waiting to come out. Every now and again, you look around and are reminded that you’re in a world where everything’s f@^%$d and there’s no way to fix it - and this brings us to foreign policy and diplomacy!

In the epistemic communities of foreign policy and diplomacy, burgerflippers resist top-down directives and the authority of established figures whose ideas or methods are outdated and disconnected from the realities on the ground. They reject rigid protocols or institutional traditions that prioritize form over substance, and focus instead on pragmatic solutions to real-world problems.

Burgerflippers in foreign policy reject the notion that the practices of those who are senior or who went before, are necessarily better. As discussed, you can shine a light on your resume of service to presidents and foreign ministers, but when those administrations ultimately failed to achieve progress, it's gotta be called out. The fact is everything we accept as "normal" in foreign policy and diplomacy (and the wider international relations field) often act as constraints holding back creative solutions. We need burgerflipper disruption!

Like in the kitchen, the burgerflipper attitude in foreign policy and diplomacy fosters a sense of camaraderie within epistemic communities, where individuals value and rely on the insights of their peers more than on the opinions of less-informed stakeholders, such as politicians, bureaucrats, or the general public. Practitioners with this mindset build informal networks of trust and mutual respect, and value colleagues’ nuanced understanding of policy over the simplistic narratives preferred by outsiders. If you’re reading this blog and have done so for more than a few weeks, following me through name changes and domain updates, you’re probably also a burgerflipper. 

Do you view the rules, protocols, and traditions of the foreign policy and diplomacy epistemic communities as performative and counterproductive?  Do you cherish a layer of irony or dark humor about the systems in which we operate? Do you maintain a wry sense of detachment in acknowledgement of the absurdities of what we do as a coping mechanism and a subtle critique of the system? Do you wish for more openness and creativity? You’re a burgerflipper! There's lots of us out there hidden amidst the crowd. Look at the diplomat beside you - she may be a burgerflipper. Look at the academic on the other side, he may be a burgerflipper.

Burgerflippers are everywhere cradling a certain blend of defiance, camaraderie, and pragmatic subversion. If there were a motto of the burgerflipper, it would be simple:

We respect the craft and value expertise, but reject the rigid structures, outdated hierarchies, and performative rituals that dominate the field.

By focusing on substance over form, and by leaning on informal networks of trust and mutual understanding, burgerflippers navigate the world of foreign policy and diplomacy with a mix of irreverence and skill, quietly shaping policies that matter while resisting the fecklessness of imposed authority.

If you’ve read any other pieces in this blog, you probably know my attitudes as well as I do - probably better, as it’s real hard to know yourself. I’ve expressed these ideas in pieces on U.S. diplomacy in Korea, North Korea watchers, South Korea’s foreign policy, Seoul’s foreign policy conferences, and many more. Going forward, the focus will be commentary, analysis and fiction (the necessary creative element) with a burgerflipper attitude towards foreign policy and diplomacy!

As always, thanks for reading, and for your patience in putting up with the many name changes! I’m no longer using social media despite its importance to connect to a wider audience, so please share as far and wide as you can!