THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC - IS IT PARADISE?

In recent weeks, media coverage of the Dominican Republic has intensified—and, unfortunately, much of it has been troubling. Eleven American tourists have died there in the past year, and the nation was thrust into further turmoil when beloved Dominican American icon David “Big Papi” Ortiz was shot in a crowded bar for reasons still not fully understood.

I know the Dominican Republic well. In 2009, I bought a home just outside Santo Domingo in a small beach community. The security in that area was modest—hardly capable of stopping someone intent on harm. But the truth is, those kinds of individuals exist everywhere. From 2009 until I sold the home in 2017, my family and friends spent countless days on that beach. Not once did a guest feel unsafe or encounter anything remotely threatening. And yet, tourists have died, and the media is laser-focused on every detail surrounding these tragedies, including the shooting of “Big Papi.”

So the questions arise: Is the Dominican Republic unsafe? Should travelers rethink their plans?

This is not a debate about crime statistics or public relations talking points. Every country, without exception, faces crime—some more than others, for reasons that can be spun in any direction. Just this week, a close friend asked me whether she should move her upcoming December wedding out of the Dominican Republic. After a candid conversation, my answer was simple: No.

It is heartbreaking that eleven Americans have died. It is heartbreaking that “Big Papi” was shot. These are facts, and their families’ grief is real. But these tragedies alone should not define an entire nation.

Despite these losses, I would not discourage anyone from visiting the Dominican Republic. During the more than three years I lived there as a diplomat, I watched millions of Americans enjoy this beautiful country safely. But—as with any international travel—precautions matter. Research matters. Awareness matters.

I personally know someone who lost a loved one abroad. The last thing any grieving family needs is to be told it’s “fake news.” What they need is compassion, transparency, and a commitment from both Dominican authorities and the U.S. State Department to provide clear answers. Their healing—and the confidence of future travelers—depends on it.

Crime can happen anywhere. Tragedy can strike anywhere. But there are practical steps that dramatically reduce risk. When friends ask me about travel to the DR, I tell them:

• DO NOT leave your all-inclusive resort alone.

• DO NOT wear flashy or expensive jewelry.

• DO NOT drink excessively simply because alcohol is free or included.

• DO NOT take midnight strolls along the beach.

• DO NOT rely on local taxis; they are intended for locals.

If you want to explore—and I strongly encourage you to do so—hire a reputable, English-speaking guide if you are not fluent in Spanish. And always register your trip with the U.S. Embassy. The U.S. Citizen Services hotline is available 24/7 for emergencies.

Any destination can be dangerous if approached carelessly. But with awareness, common sense, and basic precautions, the Dominican Republic can—and will—offer travelers a warm, vibrant, and unforgettable escape.

You can learn more about the Dominican Republic, its extraordinary beauty, and my own experiences there in my new book, Breaking Protocol – Forging A Path Beyond Diplomacy, available summer 2019 wherever books are sold. Visit breakingprotocolbook.com.

International Election Observation - Ukraine

Over the past four weeks, I had the honor of serving as an international election observer as part of the NDI delegation to Ukraine. The first round of the presidential election took place on Sunday, March 31, with an extraordinary 39 candidates on the ballot. After arriving in Kyiv, our delegation spent four intensive days reviewing observer protocols and procedures, meeting with journalists, and engaging with prominent Ukrainian leaders who provided deep insight into the country’s political landscape, party dynamics, and candidate profiles.

Following our briefing period in Kyiv, I was assigned to Odesa, a major port city on the Black Sea and a region shaped by its proximity to Crimea following the annexation. Our preparation in Kyiv offered a strong foundation: we were briefed on key candidates, their support structures, known disruptors, and potential security risks we might encounter in the field. When I arrived in Odesa, I immediately observed that the southern region, and Odesa in particular, is predominantly Russian-speaking, with architecture that still bears the imprint of the Soviet era. We arrived on Friday, March 29, which gave us the necessary time to familiarize ourselves with the polling stations we would observe and meet local election officials ahead of election day.

On Saturday, we surveyed the city center to assess whether the mandatory campaign blackout period was being respected and whether there were any visible signs of potential disruption or paramilitary intimidation of voters. Election day itself was rigorous. Polls in Ukraine open at 8:00 a.m. and close at 8:00 p.m., and we arrived at our first station at 7:15 a.m. to observe the opening procedures. While the steps are detailed and highly procedural, I can say confidently that the station we observed executed them with flawless precision, full transparency, and a palpable spirit of cooperation.

Once voting began, our role was straightforward but demanding: observe, document, and monitor procedural integrity. For the next 12 hours, our team traveled across Odesa, visiting nine polling stations before returning to our initial location at 7:45 p.m.—just in time to witness the final voter cast their ballot and the closing procedures commence. I should note that Ukrainian ballots are physical paper ballots listing all 39 candidates and measuring nearly the length of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Voting booths look like something from the 1950s, complete with curtains that voters draw closed behind them. The ballot boxes themselves are completely transparent, fully visible to everyone inside the polling station.

The real intensity begins once the polls close and counting starts. At our station, with approximately 2,200 registered voters and turnout above 70%, the process was meticulous. Ballots were poured onto a large central table; each was picked up individually, and the chosen candidate’s name was read aloud. Ballots were then placed into designated areas for each candidate. If any ballot was unclear or deliberately voided, it was examined collectively by the election officials. Only if the entire group reached a unanimous agreement was it counted or discarded as invalid.

Shortly after midnight, the tally was completed, the closing protocols were finalized, and the results were transported to the central district office. We arrived back at the hotel around 2:00 a.m.—just in time for a short rest before departing for the airport at 5:00 a.m. to return to Kyiv for a full-delegation debrief. “Tired” would be an understatement.

Our first-round observations revealed no attempts by malign actors to manipulate the outcome. In fact, what we witnessed was a sincere commitment to transparency and a genuine effort to advance democratic practice. At the post-runoff press conference on April 21, U.S. Congressman John Shimkus (R-IL) even remarked that he would support returning to paper ballots and transparent ballot boxes in U.S. elections—a point on which I rarely agree with him. The clarity of Ukraine’s process leaves remarkably little room for fraud. Which raises the question: if Congressman Shimkus is such a champion of election transparency, why did he vote against H.R. 1, the House’s comprehensive anti-corruption and voting rights bill?

The second round on April 21 mirrored the first, with one major difference: I was dispatched to Lviv, an exceptionally beautiful city in western Ukraine often likened to a “mini-Paris” for its architecture and vibrant, youthful energy. The dominant language there is Ukrainian, and while the procedures were nearly identical to those in Odesa, the cultural and political atmosphere felt distinctly different. The outcomes, however, were consistent.

Ukraine has now chosen a new leader: a television actor with no prior experience in government. Across both regions, the sentiment was clear—the incumbent, President Poroshenko, had failed to deliver on key promises, particularly regarding corruption and the aspirations of the 2014 revolution. Zelensky’s campaign capitalized on this frustration, promising to revive the revolution’s energy. When Poroshenko vowed in 2017 to “cut off the hands of those who steal in the army,” Zelensky responded sharply: “Why do your people all have both their hands?”

For Ukraine’s sake—and the future of its democracy—let us hope that President Zelensky can keep both of his.