Evolution, not revolution

THE PARLIAMENT OF MAN: The United Nations and the Quest for World Government

by Paul Kennedy

Allen Lane ₤25, 384 pages

The historian Paul Kennedy frames The Parliament of Man, an analysis of the United Nations, with two powerfully symmetrical poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, written at two very different times during the English poet’s life.

The first, “Locksley Hall”, written in Tennyson’s early years and much beloved by US president Harry Truman, dared in 1842 to imagine a great “parliament of man”, or “federation of the world”, where the “kindly earth shall slumber, lapped in universal law”.

The second, “Locksley Hall Sixty Years After”, was penned after half a century of conflict and colonialism, and offers a disillusioned self-riposte, replete with “cries of unprogressive dotage” and regrets that a “warless world... something kindlier, higher, holier”, still appeared a long way away.

The parallel with the UN today, 60 years after it was created, is compelling. Over the past two years it has gone through a profound period of introspection as efforts to maintain its relevance in a changed world have turned into open and often angry inter-governmental bickering.

In The Parliament of Man, Paul Kennedy takes us on a sweeping historical tour of this unique institution. His approach is not to simplify but to revel in the UN’s complexity as it struggled through a quadrupling of its members, shifts in economic power and rapid change in humanity’s understanding of individual rights.

“Like the blind men feeling the various parts of an elephant, different groups in today’s world see the UN in different ways,” Kennedy notes. “The story is so complex and contradictory that it confuses the mind. But that is precisely the point.”

To that extent this is a necessary book, as it follows a flurry of recent aggressively anti-UN tracts that often seem to understand little about its place in time, or the inherent constraints of a meeting place of sovereign nations - albeit one that could benefit from greater scrutiny and better management.

But does Kennedy’s book provide fresh insights into the UN’s record or identify its challenges and how to overcome them? Coming on the end of two years of reports, studies and recommendations on UN reform, that is less certain.

Kennedy’s broad conclusion is that the UN is ultimately no more than what its most powerful members will allow it to be, whether in the universalist but ineffective General Assembly, or the more pragmatic but flawed Security Council.

He also reminds us, however, that statisticians, aid workers, environmentalists, health workers, human rights activists, feminists and even journalists have also exerted important influence over the UN’s “softer” face, leading to important changes to our understanding of international affairs.

So what did it all amount to? The Parliament of Man broadly concludes that the UN, despite its flaws, has proved itself a useful forum to contemplate mankind’s most pressing concerns. And despite its many shortfalls, it has taken some decisions with profound and positive impact. While the world remembers the UN’s failures in Rwanda and Bosnia, Kennedy reminds us also of the relative successes of Namibia and Mozambique. But ultimately, he asks us not to expect too much: “The UN will never be in a position to block war-making by a determined Great Power; not, that is, without the strong chance of another great war.”

Kennedy shies away from any overarching new vision of how to balance a powerful but wounded US with a rising China, a confused Europe and an angry developing world, let alone international terrorists and nuclear proliferation. He tells us little about what fundamental deal might form the basis of a renewed contract between nations. Instead, his main conclusion is that any one-off revolution will not succeed; that the UN must change, but is only likely to do so through regular smaller-scale tinkering - such as better hiring practices, fewer overlapping agencies and limited Security Council expansion.

Perhaps he is right; overarching reform efforts have collapsed. But one also senses that something else is missing from his book: the people. Where was Colin Powell with his vial of anthrax, or Dominique de Villepin and his passionate appeals for civilisation? Where was Kofi Annan as he struggled to stave off attacks on his integrity? Or the stories of sweaty, sleepless diplomats, toiling all night as they raced to piece together a new vision for the UN ahead of last September’s world summit?

During the past months of scandal, academics and UN defenders have tended to focus on its systems, while conservative attackers have zoomed in on individuals and their networks. These two approaches rarely coincide, yet both are necessary. The world may have to wait a little longer for a book that successfully weaves the two together.

Mark Turner is the FT’s UN correspondent.