by Kofi Annan
I have recounted this exchange in detail because it captures, as few other moments do in that year of extraordinary drama and diplomatic maneuvering, the depth of passions, and the way in which the question of Iraq became about something far larger: the foundations of peace and security, and the place of the United Nations as the sole legitimate authority to endorse the use of force except in cases of self-defense. Over the next month, I was in nearly daily contact with the leaders of a dozen countries or more, including Tony Blair, George W. Bush, and Jacques Chirac. On February 21, I was in Paris as part of a tour of European capitals and called Bush to give him my own unvarnished assessment of the mood there. I pointed out that the leaders and peoples of Europe who were demonstrating in large numbers had no interest in the survival of Saddam Hussein, but rather were concerned with the way the use of force was being contemplated. Bush, in response, made clear to me the prism through which he had come to see the challenge. He said that “Saddam Hussein is a brutal dictator who tortures his people, and he is a threat to the United States and the world. Without Saddam, the world will be a safer place.” He added that U.S. military action would bring about the “liberation of Iraq.”
On February 24, France, Germany, and the Russian Federation issued a joint memorandum to be circulated among the members of the Security Council on the Iraq situation. “The combination of a clear program of action, reinforced inspections, a clear timeline and the military build-up provide a realistic means to reunite the SC and to exert maximum pressure on Iraq.” On March 5, the foreign ministers of France, Germany, and Russia met in Paris and announced that they “would not let a resolution pass that would authorize force.” Two days later, during one of my regular briefings with Blix and ElBaradei, Hans told me that the Iraqis had stopped destroying the missiles under UNMOVIC supervision. It seemed to be clear by then that the die was cast.
On March 10, I spoke at a conference in The Hague and made clear in response to a question that the Council faced a momentous choice and that an attack on Iraq without Council authorization would be in breach of the Charter. Chirac, on the same day, stated explicitly that France would veto a resolution that would automatically lead to war, explaining that he did not believe war was the means to the disarmament of Iraq. On the same side as France were other strong allies of the United States, including Mexico and Chile. The Mexicans made clear to me during numerous calls that they were under immense pressure from Washington to support the action. For them, however, something far greater was at stake. As Luis Derbez, the foreign minister of Mexico told me in a call on March 13, they simply could not support “a decision allowing unilateral action and the authority to go to war.” Reflecting on the history of his continent, he added that he had told Powell that Mexico could not “allow the UN to justify toppling a government.”
Time was running out, however, and with or without the UN the United States and its allies were on a course for war. On the eve of the Azores Summit, a meeting among the United States, the UK, and Spain, Blair called me to say that he could not “see a way out of the impasse.” The day after, following a call from Colin Powell stating that the United States had made the decision to invade, I authorized the withdrawal of all remaining UN personnel from Iraq, and three days later, the invasion began. War had come to Iraq, once again.
The decision by the United States and its allies to proceed with the invasion of Iraq without Security Council authorization was a defeat for all of us who had sought to ensure that Iraq’s defiance of the United Nations was met by a united and effective response. But it was a vindication, too, of principle over power. Members of the Council, including close allies and neighbors of the United States, had insisted on the prerogative of the United Nations Security Council to decide under international law whether a member state was in material breach of the Council’s resolutions, and what the consequences should be.
Amid the exhaustion and exasperation, the sense of countless hours of diplomacy spent in vain, and an impending gloom about the consequences of a unilateral war, the United Nations had stood up for itself, and its founding principles. It would matter little to the world—and to the people of Iraq—in the months and years to come, but far worse would have been a rubber stamp for a war fought on false premises. From such a misjudgment, the road back to credibility and legitimacy in the eyes of the world would have been far harder.
INTO THE STORM: IRAQ AFTER THE INVASION
On March 20, 2003, the United States and its allies invaded Iraq, bringing an end to more than a decade of attempts by the United Nations and the international community to secure the disarmament of Iraq consistent with its obligations under the cease-fire terms of the first Gulf War. Years of intense, fraught, and ultimately futile diplomacy were replaced with a massive invasion of a sovereign state without the authorization of the Security Council. The initial relief at the swiftness of the collapse of the Iraqi regime was soon replaced by scenes of looting and general lawlessness that left Iraqis uncertain and increasingly fearful of their future.
Four days into the war, Jeremy Greenstock, the British ambassador to the United Nations, came to see me to begin the work of closing the breach between the UN and the coalition. The next day, I invited the ambassadors of the five permanent members of the Security Council to a working lunch, resuming the dialogue we had maintained throughout the run-up to the war, now in the context of an active conflict. For all the acrimony, I was struck by the pragmatic atmosphere in the room, and the desire, particularly on the part of the Russian and Chinese ambassadors, to find a basis for working together again in the wider interest of the international community. Everyone had an interest in ensuring a successful postconflict environment in Iraq. No one wanted to see long-term damage to the United Nations, or a deeper geopolitical divide.
At the UN, we soon focused on the ways in which we could contribute to securing a better future for the people of Iraq, like so many other victims of war and tyranny in need of our assistance. This was not an easy call. Among a large number of member states—and many of our staff—there was a view that the UN should not in any way be seen to be endorsing the invasion, or helping implement an occupation that followed an unsanctioned war.
This was the paradox about the much-vaunted “vital role” that Blair and Bush avowed would be made available to the UN. In fact, we did not seek a “vital role,” nor in the end did we receive one. What I determined in the days after the invasion, after a great deal of consideration, was that we had an obligation to the people of Iraq that went beyond whatever feelings of betrayal or disapproval any one of us might have. The Iraqis needed our help and, as the United Nations, we were duty bound to answer the call. It was neither realistic nor desirable for the United Nations to shy away from a role in such a complex, and consequential, postconflict arena.
I had asked Sergio Vieira de Mello to lead our mission because I believed his distinguished field experience—from the Balkans to East Timor—would ensure the strongest possible contribution by the UN to the stability of the country while retaining our independence from the occupying powers. Having arrived too late to stop the U.S. representative in Baghdad, Jerry Bremer, from issuing two disastrous orders on the disbanding of the Iraqi army and the de-Baathification of the Iraqi state structure, Sergio focused his efforts on securing as wide a political consensus as possible for the future governance of the country. In this mission, despite severe limitations on his powers, his freedom of maneuver, and his influence over the key decisions of the coalition, he succeeded greatly. By carefully and patiently listening to all sides in the fracturing Iraqi mosaic—and earning the trust of the Shia religious leader, Ayatollah Sistani—he helped form what became the Governing Council, the first genuinely Iraqi expression of a post-Saddam government.
The bombing on August 19 that took Sergio’s life and that of twenty-one other colleagues was the vicious response from the terrorist groups determined to thwart any attempts—
including those by the United Nations—to secure a peaceful postwar environment in Iraq. A month after Sergio’s death, another suicide bomber struck near the UN headquarters in Baghdad. The attacks were clearly not going to end. Following the August 19 bombing, I had ordered an investigation into the security measures taken at the UN headquarters and asked Marti Ahtisaari, the former president of Finland and a veteran of multiple UN missions, to lead it. I knew he would take an independent, stringent look at the evidence. He did, and he was furious when he came to me with his assessment.
Basic security measures had not been taken. This was compounded by the fundamental dilemma of our presence in Iraq: if we were going to be effective in playing a role distinct from the occupation, we could not base ourselves in the coalition security area called the “Green Zone,” separated from the people of Iraq in the most glaring and dominating manner. At the same time, by basing ourselves outside the zone at the Canal Hotel, we would be exposed to a greater degree to the violence and terror unleashed by the invasion’s aftermath. The chaos of postwar Iraq left no way for this dilemma to be resolved other than our departure from the country. I simply could no longer justify the risk to our people of having a permanent mission on the ground. When we did return in 2004, in a diplomatic mission led by Lakhdar Brahimi to help resolve the political standoff between the parties, it was under the strictest security protocols. Once again, the UN was able to play an important role in resolving vital political and governance disputes, but as the deeper forces of a civil war took hold, the violence overwhelmed any diplomatic attempts at bringing Iraq back from the abyss.
Back in New York, the struggle to bring the key member states back into cooperation over an issue as important as Iraq continued. However, my own doubts about the justification for the war, and the wisdom of its prosecution, deepened with every grim day that went by. On September 15, 2004, I had agreed to an interview with the BBC. After some less-than-subtle questions from the journalist about the risk of the United States becoming, in his words, “an unrestrainable, unilateral superpower,” he got to the question of whether UN Security Council resolution 1441 had given the war legal authority. I answered: “Well, I’m one of those who believe there should have been a second resolution because the Security Council indicated that if Iraq did not comply there will be consequences. But then it was up to the Security Council to approve or determine what those consequences should be.” After some further questioning, the reporter asked if it was “illegal.” “Yes,” I replied, “I have indicated it is not in conformity with the UN Charter; from our point of view and from the Charter point of view it was illegal.”
I had expressed this view, in less direct ways, on other occasions in the past. I had up to that point always sought to retain my ability to engage both sides of this deep global divide by avoiding an outright condemnation of the illegality of the war. But it was no longer possible to sustain this position—even if a television interview was a less than ideal venue for saying that the emperor had no clothes. In Washington and London, the reaction was swift and furious. As the barrage of attacks against me and the United Nations grew in intensity and purpose, I was greatly comforted by a generous and humorous e-mail from my trusted friend Ted Sorensen, former counselor and speechwriter to President John F. Kennedy:
Dear Kofi:
Your BBC statement insures you of: A. a permanent place in history as the most courageous, truthful and independent U.N. Secretary-General, and B. No third term. Congratulations!
Relations with Washington were about to get even worse, however. In October 2004, I received information about an impending assault on the Iraqi city of Fallujah by U.S. forces. My concerns were about the inevitable collateral damage to civilians, the risk of violations of international humanitarian law, and the likely inflammatory effect on the insurgency. I decided to send a letter to Bush, Blair, and Iraqi prime minister Alawi in order to go on the record with them about the risks of further aggravating the situation in the country. Inexplicably, the letter was transmitted by fax by my staff, which ensured that it was promptly leaked. Coming shortly after my statement about the illegal nature of the war, and days before the U.S. presidential election, it provided the UN’s enemies in Washington with further ammunition, this time alleging that I was interfering in U.S. domestic politics. Nothing had been further from my mind. My focus was on halting the slide into a deeper conflict, but the reality of our intentions and our actions became increasingly irrelevant as we became the focus of a wider campaign to delegitimize the United Nations. To this end, the Oil-for-Food Programme was the perfect instrument.
The program was established in 1996 to alleviate the suffering of the Iraqi people living under strict sanctions as they bore the brunt of the impact caused by the world’s determination to deny Saddam the means to reconstitute his weapons of mass destruction. It mushroomed, however, into a vast multibillion dollar structure involving thousands of contracts from dozens of countries whose companies traded with Saddam’s regime. Initially designed as a Band-Aid for the people of Iraq—and for the conscience of those in the West who wished to diminish the impact of sanctions on the civilian population—it was over time manipulated by the Iraqi regime into a scheme involving kickbacks by thousands of international companies. At the same time, and outside the program, extensive smuggling of oil—primarily through Turkey, Jordan, and Syria—took place, providing Iraq with illicit income amounting to some $8.4 billion. To this, members of the Security Council, including the United States and the United Kingdom, turned a blind eye.
For the UN Secretariat tasked with managing this enterprise, the Oil-for-Food program was a persistent source of concern given the magnitude of the sums and trading involved, and the complexity of a system that had been designed as a temporary measure. In early 2004, reports began to emerge from postwar Iraq that numerous individuals—mostly traders and middlemen—had benefited personally from oil allocations under the program. The bombshell was that one of these people was alleged to be Benon Sevan, the long-serving UN official who was overseeing the program as director of the Office of the Iraq Programme. Soon, select corners of the media seized on this charge to allege that the entire program had been a vast, corrupt enterprise. We were stunned by this possibility—and totally unprepared to manage the consequences in a poisonous atmosphere of acrimony, mistrust, and ideologically driven attacks on the institution.
To uncover the truth about the UN’s role in a program that over seven years sold some $64 billion worth of Iraqi oil and purchased food and other basic goods for the Iraqi people, I asked Paul Volcker, the former chairman of the Federal Reserve Board of the United States, to lead an independent inquiry. Over the following year, he and his team engaged in a comprehensive effort to establish the role of the UN Secretariat as well as that of the member states in the evolution of the program. Their findings, delivered through a series of reports, were deeply troubling. The UN’s management of the program came in for severe criticism, which focused primarily on our procurement, auditing, and supervisory practices. Volcker and his team also identified in excess of two thousand companies from a range of countries which had enriched members of Saddam’s regime by paying kickbacks in return for contracts—a fact that was far less reported by the press.
As secretary-general of the United Nations and its chief administrative officer, the findings of the Volcker inquiry were deeply distressing. The incidents of corruption that plagued the program were a great disappointment to me professionally. On a personal level, however, there was the added allegation that my son Kojo had been implicated in the Oil-for-Food matter—and this was far more painful. It also provided the UN’s enemies with the means through which to implicate me personally in the malfeasance that had occurred in the management of the program. Beginning in the mid-1990s, Kojo had been employed by Cotecna, a Swiss-based trade inspection company, which in 1998 won a UN contract to inspect humanitarian goods entering Iraq. When this wa
s first raised in the media in 1999, my chef de cabinet, Iqbal Riza, asked the UN’s head of management, Joe Connor, a former CEO of Price Waterhouse, to look into the matter and establish whether there was any issue of conflict. He, and our legal counsel, Hans Corell, agreed that since the Contracts Committee had not been aware that Kojo had worked for Cotecna, there was no possibility of a conflict. In addition, Kojo had stopped working for Cotecna in 1998.
The revelation—to me and to the world—that Kojo had continued to receive payments from Cotecna all the way up to February 2004 for work in West Africa, five years later than we first thought they had ended, was deeply painful. I told the press on the day of the revelation that I was surprised and disappointed that my son had not been clearer about his relationship with the company.
The attacks on the UN, and me personally, were growing. In early November, weeks before Senator Norm Coleman of Minnesota published an op-ed article in the Wall Street Journal calling for my resignation, my loyal and fearless friend Richard Holbrooke decided to intervene. Knowing Washington as he did, he could see where this was going and suggested a private meeting at his New York apartment overlooking Central Park on Sunday, December 5.
He asked me to come alone, without aides, and said he would be leading a conversation with close and trusted friends who only wished me success, but were prepared to speak candidly about the depth of the challenge and the need for decisive action. He was right. He had carefully assembled a group that included the head of the UN Foundation, Tim Wirth; Les Gelb, President Emeritus of the Council on Foreign Relations; and my former advisors John Ruggie and Nader Mousavizadeh, now at Harvard and Goldman Sachs, respectively. Richard himself played the role of both conductor and soloist—skillfully drawing out even the most difficult questions but always pointing us to solutions. Gelb set the stage by saying that he’d just come back from Washington where he had met with senior members of the administration. It was clear, as he put it, that “they won’t push you, but if you stumble, they’re not going to catch you either.”
