More than two decades ago, when I served as U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, it was clear that a change at the top was needed in order to help the U.N. fulfill its potential, and to improve its relations with the United States. The U.N. missions in Somalia and Rwanda had failed, and the mission in Bosnia was in danger of failing. The Republican-controlled Congress was so skeptical of the world body that it unilaterally cut its support—creating a financial crisis and leading our friends the British to stand up in the U.N. general assembly and utter a line they had waited more than 200 years to deliver: “representation without taxation.“
To help manage these challenges, the U.N. needed defter diplomacy and stronger management. In seeking new leadership, the Security Council turned to exactly the right man—Kofi Annan.
The son of a Ghanaian tribal chief, Kofi, who died in August at age 80, seemed born for the role of secretary-general, which he assumed in early 1997. He was a career U.N. employee with broad experience in the toughest jobs. He had been on the front lines of the struggle to make U.N. peacekeeping more professional. And unlike his bureaucratic brethren, he hadn’t tried to duck responsibility for failures.
Although not a big man physically, Kofi carried himself in a way that commanded respect. He was soft-spoken, with a lilt in his voice and an engaging manner. He could also speak the language of Molière well enough to avoid immediate disqualification by the French. As secretary-general, he was known as a demanding boss. He pushed the organization to put aside bureaucratic turf fights and to work in partnership with others. He insisted on accountability and set high standards.
He also showed the ultimate in diplomatic ability by making peace with Senator Jesse Helms, the leading critic of the U.N. in Congress, and by helping to secure an agreement to pay America’s nearly $1 billion in arrears.
My first meeting after being sworn in as secretary of state, also in early 1997, was with Kofi. He congratulated me on my promotion, and I congratulated him on his. We noted that never before had there been such a close professional and personal relationship between those in our two positions. Over the next four years, we did our best to take advantage of that fact. We did not agree on everything, but we worked together to end the bloodshed in the Balkans, to reform the U.N. and to address other challenges from poverty to disease to terrorism.
Five years after the divisive battle that led to his election as secretary-general, Kofi was reelected without opposition. He was subsequently awarded—jointly with the U.N.— the Nobel Peace Prize. By that time, he was known as a great statesmen who tried to make the U.N. work, and succeeded more than most who had come before him.
Kofi was admired at the U.N. because he viewed it as an institution that valued freedom, not simply a global soapbox that is value-free. He believed in democracy and human rights, and never hesitated to defend those principles when they were under threat, whether from terrorists or strongmen.
After completing his tenure as secretary-general, Kofi would go on to lead the foundation that carries his name and advocates for a more peaceful, prosperous and democratic world. In his public and private life, he was a true humanist, a remarkable visionary and a loyal friend. He inspired young and old, and he will always be a north star for those who believe in finding global solutions to global challenges.
I have to admit that we broke a lot of diplomatic china to ensure that Kofi had an opportunity to lead the U.N. It was worth it.
