By Javier Surasky
Eighty years after its creation, the UN can be read as an essential part of the ongoing effort to build an unfinished pact.
Dag
Hammarskjöld’s statement—“The United Nations was not created to take mankind to
heaven, but to save humanity from hell”—has been repeated so many times that
its true meaning is often lost: Hammarskjöld’s “hell” is not necessarily a
third world war; it changes with history, with the challenges and political
transformations that give life to the multilateral system.
To
understand what we mean, we must approach the UN not as an international
organization or a global debating chamber, but as the expression of a value:
the world can be a better place if we work toward it. The principles set out in
Article 2 of the Charter translate that dream into international legal mandates
that are in permanent tension with real power.
Thus, 80
years after its birth, the UN’s history can be read through the lens of more‑or‑less
implicit “moral contracts” arising from the combination of law, power,
priorities, challenges, and active capacities at each moment of the
international order—with national sovereignty at their core.
These
contracts are not necessarily written down—though they are often reflected in
documents—but are primarily political and normative arrangements that
crystallize, fracture, and are rewritten in the face of new crises.
As a
result, a circle takes shape that, on more than one occasion, has come close to
breaking. The validity and legitimacy of these moral contracts depend on how
the UN translates them into institutions and procedures capable of withstanding
systemic pressures; and the UN’s legitimacy depends on its ability to work on
moral contracts that embody its principles.
Accordingly,
the trajectory of the UN’s first 80 years can be narrated in terms of the
birth, rise, and crystallization/abandonment of unwritten contracts among its
members. For reasons of length—and to honor the UN’s eight decades—we offer
only a brief reference to eight moral contracts that we identify as critical in
the Organization’s history.
The UN’s
“moral contracts”
1) The
beginning: a contract between sovereignty and the birth of individual rights
The UN’s
original design protected state sovereignty as the foundation of peace, but a
founding tension soon emerged: human dignity—affirmed in the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human
Rights and
developed thereafter in institutions and human rights instruments—requires
limiting States’ “absolute sovereignty,” bringing individuals into the
international legal framework.
The most
notorious ruptures of this contract occurred in the 1990s: Rwanda (1994) and
Srebrenica (1995) exposed serious failures in the UN’s prevention and response,
generating a collective trauma that opened the door to a still‑incipient
principle: the Responsibility to Protect (R2P), endorsed by Heads of State and
Government in paragraphs 138–139 of the 2005 World Summit Outcome
(A/RES/60/1).
Kofi Annan
personifies the transition from that “never again”—a phrase with deep resonance
in Argentina—toward the development of R2P. Roméo Dallaire, Force Commander of
the UN mission in Rwanda and author of Shake Hands with the Devil,
symbolizes the human cost of inaction and the frustration at the failure of
collective action to first prevent and then halt a genocide—an issue that
remains acutely relevant today.
2) The
decolonization contract and coloniality within self‑determination
The
decolonization wave of the late 1950s and 1960s became deeply rooted in the
UN’s structure. It was the product of converging needs and aspirations in the
colonies, the waning power of colonizers, and the rise of new powers whose
economic interests were hindered by colonialism.
The result
was a series of national liberations that reshaped the UN itself and led to an
exponential growth in its membership. Once that convergence of desires and
needs had passed, however, the contract broke down. Today, the UN Special
Committee on Decolonization maintains 17 Non‑Self‑Governing Territories on its
official list, with ongoing controversies—such as Western Sahara or the Falkland/Malvinas
Islands—that have left the moral contract unfinished. Although the case law of
the International Court of Justice (including its 1975 advisory opinions on Western Sahara and its 2019 opinion on Chagos) and
the General Assembly support the claim, the needs of neo‑colonialism—now less
territorial than economic—have unraveled the basic agreements needed to
complete the process.
Ralph
Bunche—through his pioneering diplomatic work on the right of self‑determination
under multilateral rules—and leaders of several National Liberation Movements
that took up arms against colonial powers are referents of the initial
contract. By contrast, Salvador Allende was perhaps the most prominent voice
exposing neo‑colonialism and its effects in his 1972 speech before the General
Assembly.
3) The
post‑war economic growth contract versus the planet’s limits
After the
Second World War, the implicit contract was “grow first.” The 1972 Stockholm Declaration and the 1992 Rio Declaration sought to rewrite parts of that
pact by including its “externalities”—the environmental damage linked to
unbridled growth.
Since 2015,
the Paris Agreement has provided a legal anchor, yet
its implementation shows that this contract is still not consolidated among
governments, even if it is among experts and the general public. Its rapid
entry into force suggested a strategic shift was coming, but that shift
continues to face resistance from major political and economic interests.
Today this
contract is under further strain due to new demands associated with just
transition and environmental justice, as well as the environmental impacts of
digitalization and AI.
Two figures
help illustrate the evolution of this agenda: Gro Harlem Brundtland, whose work
introduced the concept of sustainable development (Our Common Future,
1987), and Maurice Strong, the “architect” of Stockholm 1972 and Rio 1992—an
emblem of how the UN turned an emerging environmental agenda into active
diplomacy by building its own governance. More recently, figures like Greta
Thunberg embody the frustration with climate “blah, blah, blah,” voiced in her
2021 speech, whose central stage is likewise the UN system (see the video here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eSw2IcuX48).
4) The
collective security contract and its imposition on basic freedoms and the rule
of law
After 9/11,
the Security Council adopted resolution S/RES/1373 (2001), imposing mandatory counter‑terrorism
measures on financing, criminalization, and cooperation, among others. In
practice, this expanded surveillance and scrutiny and “securitized” all
international agendas. Since then, Special Rapporteurs, human rights bodies,
and even coalitions of States have sought to rebalance the moral contract of
freedom under the rule of law—now also tested by cybersecurity and digital
surveillance.
Louise
Arbour, as High Commissioner and former prosecutor of the ad hoc criminal
tribunals, became a leading defender of the rule of law, while Fionnuala Ní
Aoláin—UN Special Rapporteur on the promotion and protection of human rights
and fundamental freedoms while countering terrorism (2017–2023)—symbolizes the
demand for proportionality and safeguards in the counter‑terrorism era. The UN
Human Rights Council’s work in this area must also be highlighted for its
efforts to restore the original moral contract.
5) The
contract to fight poverty and inequality
After 1945,
a development consensus took hold that measured progress almost exclusively
through GDP growth. That approach was challenged from within the system by the
UN Development Programme (UNDP) and the creation of the Human Development Index
(HDI), which in 1990 moved development debates beyond the purely economic field
for the first time.
That
shift—combined with the Brundtland Report and the adoption of the Millennium
Development Goals in 2000—paved the way for the 2015 adoption of the 2030
Agenda, which, like the MDGs, places the fight against poverty as a global
priority.
This moral
contract, however, breaks down when economic priorities skew sustainable
development toward the economic sphere, to the detriment of the environmental
and social pillars, and when accumulation is prioritized over expanding
universal social protection, decent work, or distributive equity.
Mahbub ul
Haq—architect of the HDI—and Amartya Sen are emblematic of the conviction that
a world without poverty is possible, countering the paralyzing claim that
“there has always been poverty and there always will be.”
6) The
digital moral contract and the struggle to lead the world to come
One of the
greatest challenges in today’s multilateral framework is building a new moral
agreement on the regulation of digital technologies—especially AI.
While the
UN seeks a central role in forging this new contract—and receives support from
the less digitally developed world, which largely overlaps with the “Global
South” yet is not identical—it has adopted documents such as the Global Digital Compact (nested within the Pact for the
Future) and UNESCO’s Recommendation on the Ethics of
Artificial Intelligence, alongside early regulatory efforts through the International
Telecommunication Union (ITU).
Yet, in
practice, its moves are more reactive than proactive, with a late and uneven
rollout. Progress depends primarily on inter‑agency coalitions and on States
pushing to land common rules and metrics. Opposite them stand powerful digital
companies and three competing governance models: free‑market (United States),
state‑centric (China), and rights‑ and risk‑based (European Union).
Robert
Kirkpatrick, as head of UN Global Pulse, helped embed responsible data and AI
within the system—an antecedent on which the foundations of the Global Digital Compact were later built. In addition,
Carme Artigas and James Manyika, as co‑chairs of the Secretary‑General’s High‑Level
Advisory Body on AI, bridged States, the technical community, and industry to
frame options for international governance before and during the Summit of the
Future.
The General
Assembly’s adoption of resolution 79/325 establishing its own Independent
International Scientific Panel on Artificial Intelligence and a Global Dialogue
on AI Governance is a step in the right direction, though its final composition
and real capacity to drive change remain to be seen.
7) The
UN at the center; the UN as one actor among many in the international
“ecosystem”
Another
moral contract under strain is the original model that placed the UN at the
center of the multilateral system, reflected in Article 1 of the Charter on its
purposes. That vision contrasts with a UN as a “node” within an international
“ecosystem,” coexisting with—and at times subordinated to—multiple “G’s” (G7,
G20, etc.) that assume missions which, in truth, should fall to the UN. While
this shift reflects power over law and can enable innovation, it also brings
fragmentation, exclusion, and forum‑shopping.
In
response, the UN seeks to set common agendas that allow it to install
guardrails by establishing shared agendas, targets, standards, and reporting
formats. In this perspective, the 2030 Agenda (A/RES/70/1) functions as a universal meta‑contract—yet without effective compliance
or financing mechanisms.
The roles
played by Macharia Kamau (Kenya)—one of the co‑facilitators of the 2030 Agenda
negotiation—Amina Mohammed, as the political architect from inception through
implementation, and Paula Caballero—Colombia’s foreign ministry official who
originally pushed the idea of Sustainable Development Goals—embody the
conceptual shift that turned a diffuse framework into universal, measurable
objectives. While this has not resolved the division of labor between the UN
and the various “G’s,” it has enabled some alignment of debate topics and
agenda‑setting across institutions and groups in the international action
ecosystem.
8) The
permanent tension: law and power
The UN
affirms sovereign equality, but the Security Council enshrines a de facto
hierarchy with five permanent members wielding veto power. That “contract”
stabilized the system during the Cold War at the cost of frequent stalemates
and a legitimacy gap.
Self‑restraint
instruments aimed at the P5—such as the Code of Conduct promoted by the
Accountability, Coherence and Transparency (ACT) Group, the France‑Mexico
proposal to voluntarily limit use of the veto, and the General Assembly
resolution requiring explanations for vetoes (A/RES/76/262)—have
introduced reputational incentives, but the necessary structural reform remains
pending. The powerlessness of reform advocates during the Summit of the Future,
and the language used in the Pact for the Future regarding Security Council
changes, attest to the inability to advance in this key area.
Razali
Ismail, who presided over the General Assembly in 1996–1997, symbolizes the
persistent efforts to reform the Council and the Assembly’s role as the
Organization’s institutional “conscience.” In this field, too, civil society is
far ahead of States’ political will.
Looking
ahead: a “moral‑operational contract” for the UN’s next decade
If implicit
contracts gave moral coherence to the system, the coming decade demands making
them explicit and enforceable. Five operational clauses appear indispensable:
- A rule of self‑restraint on the veto in the face of publicly documented atrocities, together with a mandatory justification when a P5 member blocks actions to protect people.
- Earmarking a percentage of UN financing for preventive diplomacy and data‑driven risk analysis (including responsible AI), with comparable metrics and independent audits.
- Strengthening the climate contract’s ability to trigger action, taking scientific reports seriously and establishing objective action plans, indicators, and concrete timelines for delivery.
- National accountability for implementing global agendas: this is not about multiplying reports but applying a “comply or explain” formula to the full set of globally agreed agendas—grounded not only in international law but in the principle of good faith embedded in the UN Charter.
- Establishing effective, sustainable UN financing systems that are insulated from the shifting political will of a tiny group of major contributors, democratizing the Organization’s “financial game” from within.
Finally, we
must learn the most important lesson from 80 years of multilateral work within
shared institutions: the UN’s three pillars (peace, human rights, security)
trace winding paths. Walking them—and choosing the right option at each
potential detour—requires shared moral agendas. If we maintain an international
policy of gelatinous, adaptable axiology instead of consolidating and
sustaining UN moral contracts—and using them as guides to deliver concrete
results—any change or institutional reform will be hollow.
We need
more coalitions and fewer personal leaderships if we are to rebuild the moral
strength the UN once possessed and has gradually lost in shreds. We need more
action and fewer debates.
As stated
at the outset: the UN is, above all, the inalienable idea that we can build a
better world—one that is fairer for all. The cement of that idea is
axiological; the bricks that will allow us to build it are solid moral
agreements that underpin the values to guide the UN in the years ahead.