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 Unvanquished
A U.S.�U.N. Saga
By Boutros Boutros-Ghali
Random House. 384 pp. $29.95

Chapter One: American Support: Loss After Gain
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As the end of my five-year term as UN secretary-general approached, some
friends, colleagues, and UN member states asked me to seek a second
term. In their view I had strengthened the independence of the
secretary-general's job and performed it well. All previous
secretaries-general had served two consecutive terms; if I did not do
so, it would be a slight to my country, Egypt, and to my continent,
Africa. I agreed. And to be honest, my own pride and sense of
achievement drove me to want a second term. There was a risk, however:
1996 was an American presidential election year. Only once every two
decades did a UN and a U.S. presidential election fall in the same year.
I knew that the UN decision might get caught in American politics. It
did.

In January 1996 I was invited to give a lecture at Oxford University.
Two of my predecessors had lectured there, Dag Hammarskjold in 1961 and
Javier P�rez de Cu�llar in 1986. Both had spoken about the role of the
secretary-general. So did I, though my world had changed dramatically
from theirs. My lecture stressed the importance of an independent
secretary-general, as envisioned by the UN Charter, and the urgent need
to find new ways to finance UN operations, since the United States
refused to pay its contribution.

My words angered the White House and Congress. Staff aides and spokesmen
for both parties noted that I had been far too independent over the past
five years. My suggestion that a modest levy on international airfares
might be used to finance UN expenses was denounced in the Senate as an
attempt to impose taxes on American citizens in defiance of the U.S.
Constitution. Although I was merely repeating an idea first put forward
by P�rez de Cu�llar and backed by me five years before, the UN
Information Office in Washington used the word "firestorm" in describing
Washington's reaction to my Oxford lecture. Forty-some members of
Congress from both sides of the aisle signed a letter criticizing me.

In mid-February 1996, at a reception I was giving at the
secretary-general's residence on Sutton Place in New York City, I asked
to have a word with two friends, former Secretary of State Cyrus Vance
and David Hamburg, president of the Carnegie Corporation. I wanted their
advice. Should I say publicly that I would be a candidate for a second
term as secretary-general? Or should I avoid the issue and be
"undecided" during the American presidential campaign?

Cy replied that the two events�the U.S. and UN elections�should be kept
as separate as possible in the minds of the public. I was then being
regularly derided and attacked by Senator Bob Dole, the leading
Republican candidate for president. His mocking pronunciation of my
name�Boo-trus, Boo-trus�sounded like a jeering crowd, and his claim that
American troops served under my "command" invariably aroused his
audiences. Candidates on the right were telling Americans that the
United Nations was a global conspiracy to rob them of their sovereignty
and that "black helicopters" belonging to the United Nations had been
overflying the Rocky Mountain states in preparation for a UN takeover of
the country. So, Cy said, perhaps I should declare my candidacy now,
early in 1996, well before the American political conventions of
midsummer. I was not so sure. I was afraid that an announcement would
only stimulate U.S. opposition to my reelection. I asked Cy and David to
inquire quietly on my behalf.

Soon afterwards the quarterly journal Foreign Affairs carried a version
of my Oxford lecture, in which I stressed that an independent
secretary-general was essential to the United Nations' credibility.
Editorials interpreted my publication of this article as a deliberate
provocation of the United States. My article was said to be a thinly
veiled declaration of my intention to stand for a second term.



Not in Favor



Then at 8:00 on Sunday evening, April 14, Vance and Hamburg came to see
me. Cy appeared deeply embarrassed and uncertain how to begin. He took a
small piece of paper out of his pocket and read a message to me from
Secretary of State Warren Christopher: "The administration has decided
not in favor of your reelection."

I told Cy and David that I was surprised by this message, but I would
not change my mind even if the United States vetoed me. "I have strong
expressions of support from Africa, Latin America, Russia, France, and
China," I said. I asked Vance and Hamburg to keep Christopher's
awkwardly worded message and my reaction in confidence, for if it got
out, I would not be able to work normally at the United Nations, and
there was a lot to do in the months ahead. I asked Cy and David to tell
Christopher that I intended to remain quietly "undecided" about my
future throughout the American presidential campaign. Although I would
declare myself after November 5 for a full five-year second term, I
wanted to assure the administration that I would step down before the
end of the second term, when my work, primarily reform of the UN
Secretariat, was placed on a solid footing.

Eight days later Christopher telephoned me from Jerusalem, I was
surprised that he regarded the issue of my reelection as important
enough to interrupt his Middle East schedule to call me. He spoke
circuitously, apparently concerned that his call might be monitored.
Nonetheless, I understood him to confirm that the Clinton administration
had decided "not in favor" of me. I replied so that anyone who happened
to be listening would understand: "I am a candidate for reelection,
despite the opposition of the U.S." On May 3, 1996, The Wall Street
Journal carried a one-paragraph item entitled "Bye-Bye Boutros," stating
that the administration had decided to get rid of me as
secretary-general, no doubt an official leak. The United States had
already gone into action. Jean Daniel, editor of Le Nouvel Observateur,
told me that the United States had asked Spain's prime minister, Felipe
Gonz�lez, to become a candidate. "No," Gonz�lez had replied, "there is a
good secretary-general now."

Early in the morning of Monday, May 13, Warren Christopher came, at his
request, to see me. We sat in the Great Room, which ran the length of
the secretary-general's residence in New York City. There was a
fire-place at each end, one carved with the heads of George Washington
and Benjamin Franklin, and the other, where we sat, displaying the
likenesses of Thomas Paine and Alexander Hamilton. As always, I was
impressed with Christopher's impeccable tailoring and recalled that, at
the UN fiftieth anniversary gathering in San Francisco, my wife, Leia,
had asked him where he had his suits made. Christopher had named a
Savile Row tailor, Chester Barrie. The majordomo brought pastries and
coffee in the Middle Eastern style. My guest ate heartily but seemed
abashed and defensive. He said he had come to confirm what he had said
on the telephone from Jerusalem, that the Clinton administration had
decided that I should not continue as secretary-general. "Why?" I asked.


Christopher said he could not answer my question, "because of our
friendship." I said, "Come on, Chris, as a friend you owe me an answer.
It's important for me," I continued, "to understand what mistakes I have
made and what I have done to provoke this." The first priority of a
secretary-general, I said, has to be the relationship between the United
States and the United Nations. "America is the only superpower," I said,
"and this means that the U.S. dislikes the very idea of
multilateralism." There always are strains and differences between the
United States and the United Nations. "That is just normal," I said, "so
what I have done to cause this abnormal U.S. decision?"

Christopher repeated that he could not tell me the reason. "You are an
outstanding lawyer," I said. "Why not defend my case to President
Clinton?" Christopher attempted a smile. "I am the president's lawyer,"
he said, "not your lawyer." I mentioned the many Americans I had
appointed to UN jobs at Washington's request over the objections of
other UN member states. I had done so, I said, because I wanted American
support to succeed in my job. Christopher made no reply.

As he was leaving, I asked him to step into the library, which
overlooked a lawn and the East River with its morning traffic of barges
and tugboats. I gave him a book, The Portraits of Fayoum: Faces from
Ancient Egypt. At the end of the pharaonic period in ancient Egypt the
covers of sarcophagi were painted with the portraits in life of the
persons mummified inside. A "portrait of Fayoum" had been discovered at
an oasis near Cairo, marvelously preserved. I had wanted to possess one
of these beautiful artifacts, I told Christopher, but because of the
expense, I could only prize them through books, such as the one I wished
to present to the secretary of state on this occasion. Christopher
seemed pleased and interested in the book. Then, turning serious once
more, he insisted that our talk be kept confidential and asked me not to
reveal my intention to stand for reelection. I readily agreed, for
publicity would damage my effectiveness in office. Because the press
would be aware of our meeting, we agreed on parting to say that we had
discussed the UN financial crisis.

Though Christopher refused to tell me why the United States had decided
that I must go, I knew that the reason was to be found in the political
dynamics of the 1996 American presidential campaign combined with the
remarkable events of the previous five years.



The Politics of an International Election



My UN adventure had begun almost five years earlier, when a moment's
conversation changed my life. In May 1991, as we flew over the
Mediterranean from Cairo to Paris, Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak told
me he was going to promote me to vice-prime minister for foreign
affairs. "And, Boutros, since you love to work, I will also give you the
post of minister of emigration, a ministry which needs to be gotten
under control." The ministry for emigration was responsible for more
than 3 million Egyptian �migr�s in the Arab world, Europe, Australia,
Canada, and the United States.

As Mubarak's new vice-prime minister, I was entrusted with special
diplomatic missions. While representing him at the June 1991 summit of
the Organization of African Unity (OAU) in Abuja, Nigeria, the post of
UN secretary-general was raised in a closed meeting of leaders, for it
was "Africa's turn" to select someone for the job. Candidates from
Cameroon, Ghana, Nigeria, Sierra Leone, and Zimbabwe were mentioned.

"There is not a single French speaker on this list," President Omar
Bongo of Gabon said. Someone else added, "They all come from West
Africa." Then President Bongo confronted me: "Boutros, why don't you
present yourself? You speak Arabic, French, and English; you would be an
excellent secretary-general of the United Nations." I had known these
leaders for fifteen years or more. I had created a special fund for
cooperation in Africa with a budget of millions of Egyptian pounds under
my direction, which enabled me to send hundreds of Egyptian experts to
African countries each year and bring hundreds of Africans to Egypt for
training. Despite the relatively modest fund, it was popular and helped
explain the sudden decision of African leaders to think of me for the
 top UN position.

I had written the first book about the United Nations to appear in
Arabic. When I was a young visiting professor at Columbia University in
1954, I had wanted to work at the United Nations. At one time I had
hoped to head UNESCO in Paris. And in recent years I had thought about
the post of UN secretary-general. I had had no such desire during the
cold war, when the United Nations had been pushed aside by the
superpowers. But now there was a real role to play and a chance to put
into effect ideas I had been working on for years.

I told President Ibrahim Babangida of Nigeria, the president of the
summit, that I was honored but that President Mubarak would have to
agree. The African presidents replied almost in unison that they would
get Mubarak's approval.

When I told President Mubarak what had happened at Abuja and that I was
interested, he was not enthusiastic. "If you fail, it will be a defeat
for Egypt," he said.

"Mr. President," I said, "there are elections. One may be elected, just
as one may not be elected. When I stood for election to Parliament,
though a member of your cabinet, I took a risk; I might have failed." I
had already discussed my chances with Egypt's new minister of foreign
affairs and with the president's advisers. They all said that my
election would be marvelous for Egypt, but that it would not be easy.
President Mubarak remained reluctant; he had just promoted me, and now I
wanted to leave. But on June 16, 1991, he finally agreed. In one short
month my career had taken a radical and unexpected turn.

Electing a UN secretary-general had often been an agonizing and
embittering experience. And recently commentators on the United Nations
have deplored the lack of a specific set of standards for choosing a
secretary-general. It is ridiculous, even disgraceful, they say, to
select "the world's top diplomat" for "the world's most impossible job"
in such an unstructured, chaotic manner. Instead, they have proposed
drawing up criteria for candidates, who would then be screened by
committee, rather like choosing a Rhodes scholar or a college president.
Aristotle, in his Politics, supports this position, saying that "it is
improper that the person to be elected should canvass for the office;
the worthiest should be appointed, whether he chooses or not."

But this would make the United Nations into just another international
bureaucracy. The drafters of the UN Charter left the matter to be shaped
largely by changing international needs, stipulating only that "the
secretary-general shall be appointed by the General Assembly upon the
recommendation of the Security Council." The rest is left to the messy
business of politics.

The office of secretary-general is, by design, weak yet pivotal. The
incumbent has no financial base and no substantial say over what goes on
throughout most of the UN system. Yet in a world organization whose
member states differ vastly in wealth, power, and size, the
secretary-general often serves as the fulcrum for cooperative progress.
But all comes down to politics, again and again.

I looked forward to campaigning for the job as a wonderful adventure. I
cited Aristotle against himself. He did not say "Man is the appointed
animal"; he said, "Man is the political animal." And I recognized that
political animal in myself. In planning my campaign, I recognized three
necessities: the backing of my own country, acceptability as the
representative of my region or continent, and familiarity with the
problems and leaders of every part of the world. I would have to make my
case politically to gain the support of key countries, regions, groups,
and international networks, not only to win office but also to be
effective in the job.

France's backing would be necessary. Paris was determined that the
United Nations continue to give French its proper role as the
traditional language of diplomacy. I had gained Egypt's entrance into
Francophonie, the worldwide association of nations sharing French
language and culture, and I had personal ties to President Fran�ois
Mitterrand. Beyond France, I needed support from the other permanent
members of the Security Council: Britain, China, Russia, and, most
important, the United States.

I asked Ambassador Joseph Verner Reed, the elegant, extravagantly
gracious, and talented former State Department chief of protocol, whose
ironical view of the world I had long enjoyed, to speak to President
Bush on my behalf. In Cairo in July I met Secretary of State James Baker
and found him friendly but focused on non-African candidates. In
addition to these rivals, there was another African competitor for the
UN job besides me. This was Bernard Chidzero, Zimbabwe's senior economic
minister, who had experience in the UN system and who was backed by the
Commonwealth and Great Britain. Chidzero addressed me in French to show
that he too spoke the language of Moli�re. I knew him well enough to
tease him: "If you want the approval of France, you must not only speak
French, but speak English with a French accent."



George Bush Drops In



Back in Cairo, President Mubarak handed me a letter that I was to
hand-deliver to President George Bush. But in Paris on September 10 at
the Quai d'Orsay, I was told in confidence that the U.S. State
Department opposed my candidacy.

On September 13 I went to the White House to see National Security
Adviser General Brent Scowcroft. By prearrangement, President Bush
stopped in to say hello. If I had gone to the Oval Office, Bush would
also have had to receive other candidates there publicly, Scowcroft
said. Tall and strong-looking, Bush was impressive, a far more imposing
figure in person than he seemed on television or in newspaper
photographs. He was far more interested in the situation in the Middle
East�Muammar Qaddafi, Saddam Hussein�than in Mubarak's letter about my
candidacy.

On Capitol Hill the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee,
Claiborne Pell, told me he favored the candidacy of Prince Sadruddin Aga
Khan, a son of the spiritual leader of the Ismaili Muslims and a former
UN high commissioner for refugees. The writer Arnaud de Borchgrave, an
old friend, told me, "The White House has already decided on Sadruddin
Aga Khan." Outside the developing world, few seemed to know that it was
"Africa's turn."

After this brief American visit, I went to Canada as minister of
emigration, a role I had almost forgotten, to meet members of the
Egyptian diaspora. In Ottawa I called on Prime Minister Brian Mulroney,
who listened to me talk about my UN hopes without comment.

I soon learned why. Mulroney had been President Bush's first choice to
become UN secretary-general, but the White House had learned that
support for Mulroney would offend Africa and the third world, which did
not want anyone from the wealthy, industrialized "North." Bush had then
shifted to Sadruddin Aga Khan, who he thought would be acceptable to the
developing countries.

On the same trip I visited the editor of The New York Times, A. M.
Rosenthal, who asked bluntly, "Do you want to be secretary-general?" "Of
course," I replied, "that's why I have come to see you." "At last!"
Rosenthal exclaimed. "Someone who is honest about what he wants!"

In late September 1991, I accompanied President Mubarak on an official
visit to Moscow, which was in turmoil following the August collapse of
the Soviet Union. Mubarak told me that when he met Mikhail Gorbachev
t�te-�-t�te, it was the Soviet leader who mentioned my name first and
said that he would firmly support me. I had a long-established
relationship with Moscow and had worked to restore Egyptian-Soviet ties
after President Anwar Sadat broke with the USSR in 1979. I was president
of the Egypt-USSR Friendship Society, a position I had sought precisely
because I was pro-American and did not want the job to go to someone who
might undermine U.S. policy in the Middle East. Gorbachev later told me
that after we left Moscow, Prime Minister John Major of Great Britain
called to propose Gro Harlem Brundtland, the Norwegian prime minister,
for the UN job. "We have already committed ourselves to Egypt,"
Gorbachev replied.



A Letter from Friends



Back in Cairo, I telephoned the American ambassador, Frank Wisner, to
tell him of Moscow's support so that he could pass the word to the State
Department. I was picking up commitments, but I did not know how to deal
with Washington. Ambassador Roy Atherton organized Ambassadors Lucius
Battle, Hermann Eilts, and Nicholas Veliotes�all of whom had served in
Cairo�to write a letter to President Bush. Wisner too would have signed
had he not been barred from doing so as an active member of the U.S.
administration, Atherton told me. "In our judgment," the four
ambassadors wrote, "Dr. Boutros-Ghali has the stature, breadth of
experience, international respect and recognition, intellectual vigor
and creativity, and diplomatic skills required to lead the institutions
of the United Nations in the years ahead." Reed delivered the letter to
Bush by hand. Reed told me later that Bush's favorable opinion of
Sadruddin Aga Khan was not shared by Baker, who had not liked
Sadruddin's handling of the UN humanitarian program for Iraq and Kuwait
at the time of the Gulf War. Baker supported Hans van den Broek, the
former Dutch foreign minister. In October at the General Assembly
session in New York, Reed had a sharp discussion with Baker when Reed
told him that the next secretary-general would have to come from Africa.
By this time, Bernard Chidzero and I were running neck and neck; all
other African candidates had been effectively eliminated.

On Thursday morning, November 20, at the H�tel Crillon in Paris, I met
the American assistant secretary for international organizations, John
Bolton. He was "at odds," I had been told, with Secretary-General Javier
P�rez de Cu�llar, apparently feeling that P�rez de Cu�llar had been
insufficiently attentive to American interests. I assured Bolton of my
own serious regard for U.S. policy. "Without American support," I said,
"the United Nations would be paralyzed." Not long after our meeting
Bolton made a strong statement before the Congress, declaring that "UN
peacekeeping remains one of the best bargains there is with respect to
the maintenance of world peace." Obviously, Bolton told the Congress,
"the amounts which the world spends on UN peacekeeping are only the
minutest fraction of what the world spends on armaments."

Later that day, still in Paris, Abdel Raouf Al-Ridy, Egypt's ambassador
to Washington, told me that Baker was ready to support me. Could this be
true?

I had flown to Bonn to ask German Foreign Minister Hans-Dietrich
Genscher to help me get U.S. backing. The decisive vote might be taken
at the United Nations in New York that same evening, but I was exhausted
and fell asleep. At midnight, I was awakened by a noise at the door and
a victory cry: "We won! We won!"

The next morning I telephoned my wife, Leia, and President Mubarak.
Cairo was jubilant, they said. Crowds of people were in the streets
congratulating one another. Klaxons were blowing all over the city, as
if Egypt had won the World Cup in soccer. For the first time an Arab had
been elected to a major international office! I telephoned President
Mitterrand to thank him and called on Foreign Minister Genscher. "I knew
that you would win," he said. "I always bet the winning horse." That
afternoon in Germany I received President Bush's congratulations. Later
I was told that Bush and Baker had failed to agree on a candidate and so
had given the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, Thomas Pickering,
no definite instructions. The United States had abstained in the vote
that elected me the sixth secretary-general of the United Nations.

My investiture took place in New York on December 3. I took my oath in
Arabic and gave my speech in three languages, Arabic, English, and
French. I cited the medieval Islamic philosopher al-Farabi, who had
dreamed of "the virtuous city." The greatest dream of all, I said, would
be a virtuous association of nations, and I hoped the United Nations
would fulfill this vision. I set out themes that would characterize my
five years in office: peace and the need for diplomacy to prevent
conflict; development to narrow the gap between North and South; reform
to prepare the United Nations for the post-cold war world; and
democratization not only within states but also among the states of the
international system.

By chance President Nelson Mandela of South Africa was in New York, and
his presence gave a special symbolic value to the inauguration of the
first secretary-general from Africa.

On Tuesday, December 5, in Washington, I had warm meetings with Baker,
Scowcroft, Lawrence Eagleburger, and Bolton, all of whom were far more
familiar than I with the intricate mechanisms of the United Nations.
President Bush received me in the Oval Office, where I stressed my
commitment to reforming the UN Secretariat. Emerging from the White
House, I avoided the press corps and went to a hospital to see Moussa
Sabry, an Egyptian editorialist and former confidant of President Sadat.
With his usual lively expression and curious intelligence, Moussa Sabry
wanted to know every detail of what had happened. Together we had gone
through many difficult times. He was dying of cancer, and I knew I was
losing a colleague and dear friend.

Returning to Egypt, I submitted my resignation as vice-premier and
minister, as member of Parliament and the National Democratic Party, as
president of the Society of African Studies, as president of the
Egypt-USSR Friendship Society, and as editor in chief of Siassa Dawlya
(International Politics), a review I had founded years before.

In my last parliamentary meeting, the president of the Chamber of
Deputies, Fathi Sorour, declared, "Your nomination is an honor for each
Egyptian, each Arab, each African ... the selection of a scholar, of a
minister, of a parliamentarian like you to occupy this post during this
time in history, is a tribute to Egyptian diplomacy." His remarks were
interrupted again and again by applause. Praise is a heady wine, and it
is easy to acquire a taste for it. But the applause was for the nation
and people of Egypt, and all of us in the Chamber were filled with pride
at this international tribute to our country.

On December 18, 1991, Hosni Mubarak gave me a ceremonial embrace and
awarded me the Grand Cordon of the Nile. As he pinned the decoration on
me, he whispered, "I am going to ruin your suit, but you can get a new
one in New York." Mubarak and I shared a love of fine suits. Much later
I could only smile when a critic called me "The Suit in History." Thus I
began a new career at age sixty-nine.



The House on Sutton Place



The four-story Georgian town house at 3-5 Sutton Place had been built
during the 1930s for a daughter of J. P. Morgan and later bought by
Arthur Houghton of Corning Glass, who had offered it to the U.S.
government as a residence for the American ambassador to the United
Nations. When his offer was rejected in 1972, he gave it to the United
Nations Association of the USA when that private organization was
seeking a suitable residence for the UN secretary-general.

But I could not move in, I was told, because the building was about to
undergo extensive maintenance and remodeling. A $2 million to $3 million
budget had been approved by my predecessor. A new roof was needed, and
all the windows would be bullet-proofed. The whole house would be
air-conditioned. A Jacuzzi would be installed. While the work proceeded
I would live at the Waldorf-Astoria at a cost of about $40,000 a month,
an unthinkable sum. How could I live at the Waldorf at such a cost? To
me, the house looked fine. I saw no need for bullet-proof windows. I had
the roof inspected and after minor repairs, it was pronounced "okay." I
did not want the bureaucrats to treat me like an Arab sheikh, which they
seemed to want to do. I decided to move into Sutton Place after a few
weeks of basic maintenance work.

In Egypt the sunrise means life, which is why the tombs of the pharaohs
are all on the west side of the Nile. Our house in Cairo had a
magnificent view of sunrise over the Nile, and Leia and I were delighted
that the house on Sutton Place overlooked the East River. We tried to
make the rooms reminiscent of our Cairo life. I installed my large
collection of bronze birds, some of enormous size, which I had acquired
from China, Egypt, India, Iran, Japan, and Syria. In the library I
arrayed my collection of Ottoman pen cases, a kind of scabbard used by
the official scribes and high secretaries of the empire. I had begun the
collection as a student, when my mother had given me the pen case of my
grandfather, a historian, saying, "This is for you because you are now
the scholar of the family." Our friends at the Metropolitan Museum of
Art lent us paintings by French artists whose work we had loved when we
had lived in Paris two works of Matisse's Moroccan period for the
library, a Dufy for one end of the Great Room, and a Utrillo for the
other. In the small study we hung a L�ger. In the dining room we placed
a painting by Kandinsky and a sculpture by Archipenko and called it the
Russian Room. I had sent from Egypt two Coptic sculptures from the fifth
and sixth centuries and placed them in juxtaposition with a contemporary
stone mask from Zimbabwe, with striking effect.

I spent long hours in the early weekends of the year arranging the art
and books and antiques. I tried something similar, on a small scale, in
my UN office, putting up a painting by Kees van Dongen lent by the
Museum of Modern Art. Later, when Mrs. "Happy" Rockefeller came to the
thirty-eighth floor, she exclaimed, "That's my van Dongen!" She had lent
it to the Museum of Modern Art and had hung a copy in her home....



�Copyright 1999 Boutros Boutros-Ghali
=====
  Related Items�Chapter One Recent Additions
�First chapter of "Unvanquished"

 Unvanquished
A U.S.-U.N. Saga
By Boutros Boutros-Ghali
Random House. 352 pp. $29.95
Reviewed by Fouad Ajami, professor of Middle Eastern Studies at the
School of Advanced International Studies at Johns Hopkins University and
the author of "The Dream Palace of the Arabs."
Sunday, July 11, 1999


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Consider the two principal characters of this tale: She is, by his
account, a loud woman, "short and plump," a novice in foreign affairs,
hostage to the currents of her unsophisticated American homeland, at sea
among worldly people and in the affairs of nations. He, by contrast, is
a figure of the Old World and of the international diplomatic circuit,
an aristocrat, steeped in the language and the ways of France and the
Levant, a man with a taste for fine art and well-cut suits. The clash of
such protagonists is easy to understand.
In his book, former U.N. secretary-general Boutros Boutros-Ghali has
come to speak of his nemesis, the American secretary of state, Madeleine
Albright. He has come to damn Albright; he has instead put on display
the shallowness that had been his hallmark all along. As he tells it, he
had tried and tried to work out an accommodation with Albright during
her tenure as U.N. ambassador. She had been sly, the American envoy; she
had told him that she considered herself in her "freshman year at the UN
school" but had intrigued against him. He was respected at the United
Nations and he was loved in Paris and Africa, and the Arabs and Ted
Turner supported him for a second term as secretary-general in 1996, but
Albright, bent on "eliminating" him, had prevailed.

He has his press clippings (the book is loaded with them, tributes to
his independence and his determination to make the United Nations a
power in its own right) to show that the Clinton administration had
pushed him overboard in a naked assertion of American power. They had
done it, he says, to preempt the yahoos in American politics, who had
taken a dislike to him. He had acquired a nickname, Boo-Boo; thanks to
Bob Dole, who relished haranguing the Republican Party faithful about
Boo-trus Boo-trus-Ghali, the Egyptian diplomat had become a lightning
rod for the isolationists and the America-firsters. He was then shown no
mercy by a Clinton team eager to demonstrate, in the midst of a
presidential campaign, that they were not given to excessive faith in
multilateralism.

In the Levant, there are children of Paris and children of Pax
Americana, and this was surely a man of French manners and outlook. He
had a double dosage of anti-Americanism. It came from the Third Worldism
he had taken to as a younger man, and was, in good measure, a French
inheritance as well. The Americans were boors or worse; he could never
take to their ways. He had trouble finding the right way to address
Secretary of State Warren Christopher. "Dear Warren," he began a letter
to the American; his staff, keen to teach him the American informality
and the American slang, was thrown into an uproar and urged that he
address him as "Chris." He would do nothing of the sort. He settled on
what he felt comfortable with: "Dear Mr. Secretary."

It so happened, then, in an era of unquestioned American primacy, that a
man had risen to the helm of the United Nations who had no feel for
American culture, who had taken seriously his own boasts in the endless
"blue books" produced by his staff that a new age of "collective
security" had begun. America had reclaimed the United Nations in
1990-91, made it an instrument of American power after years of
estrangement and an era when the United Nations had been written off as
a forum for the disgruntled of the Third World. The Egyptian had missed
all that: He had come (and the prose gives away the pretensions of the
man) "to construct an agreed upon, post-Cold War structure for
international peace and security." What he met instead was the American
envoy who shot him down and robbed him of the dream of his second term
at the helm of the world body, a vengeful woman who on one occasion
"barely sipped the excellent 1993 Chateau Margaux Pavillon blanc" he had
opened in her honor.

Boutros-Ghali has now slipped into obscurity; France fought for his
reappointment, and France lost. He was given a consolation prize: He is
now secretary general of Francophone, an international association of
countries sharing French language and culture. The last time he was
heard from was earlier this year when he made a passage to Cambodia �
after all, Khmer Rouge killers speak French, too. He met with Khieu
Samphan, head of state in the nightmarish Khmer Rouge years, and Nuon
Chea (Brother Number Two of the mass murderer Pol Pot). After meeting
with these men, Boutros-Ghali proclaimed that the matter of Cambodia was
an "internal affair" to be settled by Cambodians, without an
international tribunal. He knew of such things, he said, for he had been
a professor of international law.

The sacking of the man who walked into Sarajevo in the middle of its
terrible ordeal in 1992 to tell its people that he could name "ten other
places" that were worse off than their own city is a tribute to
Madeleine Albright. She may have done it for the wrong reasons, but the
man who gave the United Nations a 50th-birthday bash while the horrors
of Bosnia were being played out and who saw little difference between
the Serbs and their victims had a moral obtuseness all his own. He had
averted his gaze from great crimes in Bosnia; he had hoped that the
powers that be at the United Nations whose dirty work he had done (the
Americans, the British, the French) would reward him with a second
mandate for the cover he had given their abdication during those
terrible, dark Bosnian years. They had taken the services he rendered,
and then walked away from him. Now if only the Bosnians had spoken
French.







�Copyright 1999 The Washington Post Company
-----
Aloha, He'Ping,
Om, Shalom, Salaam.
Em Hotep, Peace Be,
Omnia Bona Bonis,
All My Relations.
Adieu, Adios, Aloha.
Amen.
Roads End
Kris

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