UNESCO and World Politics: Engaging In International Relations 9781400871063

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UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS

Written under the auspices of the Center of International Studies, Princeton University. A list of other publications of the Center of International Studies appears at the back of this book.

James P. Sewell

UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS Engaging in International Relations

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS

Copyright © 1975 by Princeton University Press Published by Princeton University Press Princeton and London All Rights Reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging In Publication data will be found on the last printed page of this book Composed in Linotype Caledonia and printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press at Princeton, New Jersey

To JUDY, BRET, GUNNAR, and THEA who bore this with me

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

SEVERAL institutions and many individuals helped me make

this book. The Social Science Research Council and Yale University provided material assistance. Ruth Freeman Claus, Richard Johnson II, Arvid E. Roach II, and Richard F. Ziegler did much of the research. Mietta Manca per­ formed interviews for a survey of governmental representa­ tives. James Barros, James W. Fesler, Charles Heck, Charles E. Lindblom, Richard Peck, and Sanford G. Thatcher pro­ posed especially useful suggestions at critical stages. Ethel S. Himberg transformed a disjointed manuscript into a type­ script. Anne Rutherford Lower, James McF. Robertson, Marjorie Sherwood, and my wife offered valuable editorial advice. Charlotte Carlson did the art work. And a host of people associated with Unesco aided more than I could acknowledge even if it were permissible to recognize them. My thanks to benefactors and collaborators. I hope that each will find some trace of his or her contribution in this product. Only I am responsible for its shortcomings. J.P.s.

CONTENTS

vii

Acknowledgments List of Figures and Tables

χ

1. Introduction

3

UNESCO: FORMATION AND EVOLUTION 2. 3. 4. 5.

Seed and Circumstance (1941-1945) Opportunities Unlimited (1945-1949 ) Facing "Reality" (1949-1960) Regeneration? (1960-1972)

33 71 137 199

LEADERS AND ACTORS: MODES OF ENGAGING 6. Political Leadership by Executive Managers 7. Responses by Actors 8. Toward a Multilateral Future?

279 304 339

Appendix: A Note on Scope and Methods

357

Index

365

FIGURES AND TABLES

FIGURES

1.1 Access to PoIicy Determinations 1.2 The Patterns of Engagement by Actors Within a Hypothetical International System

16 25

5.1 Unesco Member States, 1946-1972

269

5.2 Nongovernmental Organizations (NGOs) AfBliated with Unesco, 1946-1972

270

6.1 Unesco Budgetary and Extra-Budgetary (UNDP) Funds, 1947-1971/2

285

7.1 National Systemic Sectors and International Substantive Areas

307

7.2 Items on Unesco in New York Times and The Times (London), 1946-1969

320

8.1 Upgraded Engagement Within a System of Multilateral Commitments

353

TABLES

7.1 Unesco Secretariat Nationality: Director-General, Deputy Director-General, and Assistant DirectorGeneral Levels, 1946-1970

314

7.2 Sales of Unesco Publications by Region, 1968

318

7.3 Rank of Financial Benefactors of UNDP and Unesco Based on Actual Amounts, 1970

334

7.4 Soviet Cultural and Scientific Exchange, 1951 and 1964

336

ATHENIAN: TO whom do you ascribe the author­ ship of your constitutional arrangements, Strangers? To a god or to some man? CLINIAS OF CBETE: To a god, Stranger, most right­ fully to a god. We Cretans call Zeus our lawgiver; while in Lacedaemon, where our friend here comes from, I believe they claim Apollo. Is that not so? MEGILLUS OF SPARTA: Certainly. PLATO, The Laws

UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS

1 INTRODUCTION

IF we understood why it remains so difficult to organize our­ selves for realizing common benefits, we might grasp what must be done simply to continue our terrestrial existence. This study's underlying concern is whether, how, and by whom existing global relationships might be reordered or improved. The inquiry focuses upon a series of develop­ ments within our organizing world. To learn why intergovernmental organizations function so poorly, we must investigate how they function actually. By this means we can fathom the conditions for their effec­ tiveness. In this study, lessons reveal themselves by the variance between someone's theory and someone else's ex­ perience. The United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (Unesco) offers suitable though hardly singular cases in point. The notion of engaging is our chief claim to innovation. "Engaging" is a way of conceiving international relations that encourages us to begin with individuals and to follow them through small and larger groupings toward global configurations. This approach must be seen in relation to the concern that lends it meaning: the problem of finding requisites for an order more conducive to security, wellbeing, and dignity than our present world. A HISTORY OF FALTERING IMPROVISATION The quest for conditions of effective intergovernmental organization appears not to have been a problem defined in ancient times. Greek observers bequeathed to Western polit-

4

UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS

ical thought a basic unit, the polity, and thereby a limiting framework for thinking about matters political. But the Greeks did not grapple seriously with the problem of world order despite their fleeting confederation and evanescent Pan-Hellenism. Nor did the Romans, who for a time man­ aged peoples in a great territorial expanse with some prac­ tical success. Various observers might mark at later times and other places the first consideration of how to achieve efficacious relationships among political units. Examples include parleys among the Iroquois nations; the Confeder­ ation of thirteen American states, notably the Federalist essayists' critical commentaries upon it; experiments of the Hanseatic League; and the intercantonal relationships which became Switzerland. Our problem might have been pondered early in the nineteenth century during the con­ trivance of international arrangements to enhance Rhine navigation, or later in the same century during the prolifer­ ation of private transnational associations and public inter­ national unions. But few were the contemporaneous stu­ dents of early experiments in organizing internationally, and slight is their contribution to an alleviation of our problem. The ineffectuality of the League of Nations prompted a widely held explanation that was tersely animated by J. N. Ding. His cartoon pictures the League as a threewheeled fire engine whose crew necessarily cannot attend the call of duty. Uncle Sam reposes upon the missing part and recalls that "we told you it wouldn't work!"1 A Soviet commentator later ascribed League failure to similar condi­ tions conceived upon a more general plane: "the absence from the Council table for fourteen years of a representative of the Soviet Union and for twenty years of one from the United States"; "the conception of the League as an entity independent of its members, which permitted 'an evasion of responsibility for political decisions by various govern1 Foreign Policy Association, eds., A Cartoon History of United States Foreign Policy Since World War I (New York: Random House,

1967), p. 20.

INTRODUCTION

5

ments (chiefly the prewar governments of Great Britain and France)'and "the exclusion of the cardinal security prob­ lems from Council jurisdiction because the Great Powers chose to settle them through other agencies."2 Here clear lessons were asserted, but they continued to lack convincing formulation. Nor does the problem of unavailing international organ­ ization yet seem headed for a conclusive solution. Official bewilderment impelled the trouble-shooting mission of a Western diplomat, who later reported that investigating a United Nations specialized agency was much like com­ peting in a gigantic shell game. Another diplomat wanted increased international commitments of resources for his low-income country, so he voted for expanded economic development programs in his organization's plenary assem­ bly. Yet he complained afterward that this resolution would mean little or nothing beyond its adoption. Men of current affairs, too, find it hard to make intergovernmental organ­ izations produce what they wish. LEVELS OF PERPLEXITY AND AN APPROACH FOR SURMOUNTING THEM International organizations' charters proclaim a better future for mankind; yet, unavoidably, their human partici­ pants live in this world. Often their stated concern is Man. Always they are manned by individuals with different pre­ dispositions in different roles who relate to each other, to mundane circumstance, and to policy choices in differing ways. Since upon our planet "wars begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men that the defences of peace 2B.

Shatrov, "The League of Nations" (Washington: Embassy of the U.S.S.R., 6 January 1944), pp. 8-10; cited by William T. R. Fox, The Super-Powers (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1944), pp. 14647. Shatrov's fourth observation on why the League failed, interest­ ingly enough, was the "pseudo-democratic" requirement for partici­ pants' unanimity.

6

UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS

must be constructed," declares the Preamble to Unesco's Constitution. "Just S^ve me t^ie quarterly data on actual expenditures; that's all I need to know what's going on," says a worldly veteran of the same institution.3 Such discrepancies bother us. We are troubled by the ap­ parent failure of intergovernmental institutions to work as we expect, and puzzled by the lack of satisfying explanation of how they actually work. Yet the orientation for a trek through such unfamiliar thickets remains a forbidding task. We need a guiding concept. Several criteria of such a con­ cept suggest themselves. Our concept should be identified with the study of poli­ tics in the global milieu; at the same time, it should make possible the adaptation of pertinent insights drawn from the study of politics in other realms. This concept ought to dispose its user to locate organized intergovernmental relations firmly within the context of world politics instead of treating such institutions as if they were capable of iso­ lation. Hence its application might integrate the lines of scholarly inquiry now separated by customary designation either as international politics or as international organiza­ tion. Again, the concept should induce an observer to move between the traditional vantage point that makes him equate international relations with the foreign policy of his home nation-state, and the newer perspective that leads him to envisage international relations in terms of global sys­ tems comprising many interrelated actors. This dual view would stimulate discernment of the intentions, strategies, and tactics of other actors as they interact with his own governmental or nongovernmental leaders. A leading concept ought to aid other operations by the analyst. It should serve as predicate for subject actors who are sometimes identified as actual persons and at other times regarded as abstractions such as nation-states or trans3 From an interviewed source. Quotations from interviews hereafter will be given without footnotes.

INTRODUCTION

7

national associations. Since the concept would pertain to actors rather than to intergovernmental institutions, it would permit the student to cross an academic divide be­ tween "regional" and "universal" organizations by enabling him to follow his subject actors into either or both of these sorts of international relationships. Indeed, it might con­ vince him to reckon with pertinent extra-organizational be­ havior by actors. Thus he could apply the concept not only to a specific organization but across a wider range of global phenomena. Ultimately it should enable him to cast his find­ ings within a larger setting. Then conclusions might illumi­ nate the world of today and qualify our glimpses of a world of tomorrow. THE NOTION OF ENGAGING Just such a guiding idea may be fashioned around the term "engaging." "Engaging" means becoming involved or more involved in a continuing international relationship. To engage is to implicate, or implicate further, oneself—and thus quite possibly to entangle one's larger political unit— in an enduring foreign affair. Actors engage by interlocking with other actors in situations that persist over a period of time. The coupling of actors within intergovernmental or­ ganizations is the form of engagement that holds primary interest for us here. Most conspicuous as a threshold of engaging within in­ tergovernmental organizations is membership by the nationstates, or consultative status by the nongovernmental or­ ganizations (NGOs), for which persons-in-roles act. This test of formal affiliation also distinguishes actors in the world at large from participants, the manifestations of actors within intergovernmental institutions. But engaging includes levels of implication both below and above the threshold of formal association. Disengaging and not engaging by actors are germane; so too are steps by participants over the threshold—that is, inside inter-

8

UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS

governmental organizations. The picture of a threshold should remind us that although "engaging" may seem to name a unilinear process, actual instances are likely to move in two directions, rather than one, along a ladder of involve­ ment. Major planes of engagement can be summed as follows: Active participation

s: « SL

I

Passive "citizenship"

Disengaging

-2 P

j K

Threshold of formal engaging Passive indifference Active antagonism

tJD SS • CAME, meetings of 25 May 1943, 27 July 1943, 5 October 1943, 4 February 1944, 7 March 1945; AME/A/15, AME/A/95, AME/C/3; "Goodwill Film Pool. Report of the Sub-Committee on the Working of an International Film Pool," no symbol; AUied Plan for Education, pp. 25-26. s Allied Plan for Education, pp. 31-32; CAME, i, annex to draft report of second meeting, 19 January 1943; FRUS, 1944, n, pp. 1035, 1040, 1041, 1044.

42

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

tice Harlan F. Stone, writing as chairman ex officio of the Board of Trustees of the National Gallery of Art, asked President Roosevelt's support in creating a national organ­ ization for conserving works of art, monuments, and historic records in Europe. Stone added that an incidental benefit from U.S. action would be "the proclamation to the world, friends and enemies, of our practical concern in protecting these symbols of civilization from injury and spoliation."9 FDR followed diplomatic soundings of British and Soviet allies by appointing the American Commission for the Pro­ tection and Salvage of Artistic and Historic Monuments in Europe.10 Subsequently a "United Nations committee" to administer Germany's cultural resources received tentative State Department approval. But Acting Secretary of State Joseph C. Grew at the same time expressed reluctance to promote any international organization capable of deciding upon cultural reparations to devastated European countries: "in view of the fact that the United States was fortunate enough not to have any of its cultural treasures looted or destroyed, . . . it would be difficult politically for this Gov­ ernment to advance such a proposal." Department of State spokesmen James F. Byrnes and Dean Acheson were later obliged to rebut charges of "cultural looting" of German art objects by American forces.11 9 Allied, Plan for Education, pp. 29-30; FRUS, 1943,1, p. 469. Hull commended the plan for its "moral effect of positive advantage to the Allied cause, serving as it would to underscore the criminal acts of the Axis and the determination of the Allies to restore order and justice." Ibid., p. 472; see also p. 476. 10 pjjfjs, 1943, i, pp. 479-80. At the outset both British and Soviet soundings produced little more than mild official interest and re­ quests to be kept informed. "His Majesty's Government are not them­ selves primarily affected by the looting of works of art in Europe. . . ." FRUS, 1943, i, p. 474. For the Soviet response, invoking the jurisdiction of an Extraordinary Commission established by 2 No­ vember 1942 decree of the Supreme Soviet, see p. 481. 11FRUS, 1944, n, pp. 1033, 1034, 1055, 1058; FRUS, 1945, n, pp. 936, 945, 947, 948-50, 955. Among other political complications, Bevin foresaw potential resentment of allies over unilateral American

SEED AND CIRCUMSTANCE

43

Those interested in science and its applications attained a base among the educators of CAME, and from this base they worked toward formal status for science and technol­ ogy within Unesco. Certain initiatives sprang from unex­ pected quarters. Norman Sheldon, chairman of the British Chemical Ware Manufacturers Association, Ltd., contended in a May 1943 memorandum to CAME that "interests of the producers and the users of all classes of scientific materials," even "the future of this country as a first class power and .. . our ability to give assistance in the reconstruction of Eu­ rope," depended upon a coalition of scientists, educators, and the small and specialized industries with which he claimed greatest familiarity. Evidently Sheldon saw in the Conference of Allied Ministers of Education a mechanism by which to amplify his claims on behalf of preferential treatment in British and export markets. He convened a meeting of spokesmen for industries producing scientific materials and instruments in order to achieve among them a "national point of view," and found ready acceptance among his colleagues. Barrington Brock, representing the British Laboratory Ware Association, Ltd., successfully pro­ posed that Sheldon's draft be improved by assuring its in­ tended readers that this was no "political matter": British industrial associates "were not interested in what party was in power."12 Although their commitment to CAME appears removal of German works of art since these allies were "counting on obtaining some . . . as replacement in kind for some of their own looted art treasures which cannot be found." The American safekeep­ ing operation, according to Byrnes, was ultimately limited to "approxi­ mately one carload." 12 Sheldon memorandum of 20 May 1943 to CAME; "Minutes of a meeting to consider the proposals for the post-war development of certain industries covered by the Safeguarding of Industries Act (Part ι)," β October 1943, Charing Cross Hotel, London. Besides the con­ vener's own association, this meeting drew representatives of the Scientific Instrument Manufacturers' Association of Great Britain, Ltd., British Lampblown Scientific Glassware Manufacturers Asso-

44

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

to have been only a passing affair, the manufacturers' suit brought this experiment in multilateralism to the notice of a broader British public. It demonstrates the uses to which international agencies are sometimes put. Sir Henry Dale linked various scientific activities by his service as chairman of three groups. Dale headed the official British Council's Science Department, the Scientific Advis­ ory Committee to the War Cabinet, and a CAME Commis­ sion on Scientific and Laboratory Equipment, or Science Commission, which was established in October 1943. He described the Allied commission's objective as that of re­ porting on "problems involved in the supply of scientific equipment to the occupied countries" after their liberation. Dale suggested that British ministries and private associa­ tions concerned with equipment be invited to send repre­ sentatives who could advise or collaborate. To this gather­ ing Norman Sheldon would bring his scheme.18 CAME participants occasionally acknowledged that they were imitating the approaches of their antagonists in order to supplant German scientific leadership in postwar Europe. ciation, Ltd., Association of British Chemical Manufacturers, British Radio Valve Manufacturers Association, and British Chemical Ware Manufacturers Association, Ltd. 18 The new Commission was authorized by CAME's fifth meeting on 27 July 1943. Dale's proposed invitees for Commission advisory service included the Ministry of Supply, Scientific Instrument Re­ search Association, Scientific Instrument Manufacturers' Association, Association of Chemical Compounds, Association of British Chemical Manufacturers, Agricultural Research Council, Medical Research Council, and Department of Scientific and Industrial Research. CAME, Commission on Scientific and Laboratory Equipment, draft minutes of the 1st meeting (AME/D/1), 19 October 1943, pp. 1, 6; statement by Norman Sheldon at Commission meeting of 18 Oc­ tober 1944, Wigmore Hall. Elaborating upon his vision of civilization, Sheldon added: "Our health, our amusements, our wars and even our appearance depend on these [scientific] materials. If we want better health, better housing, better amusements and better industries we must develop these master keys and keep control of them. If we lose control again, we shall certainly have bigger and better wars."

SEED AND CIBCUMSTANCE

45

J. Timmermans of Belgium thought that liberated peoples might not want to replace destroyed equipment with Gertnan-made stock except possibly as reparations. A. Als of Ltixembourg added that first impressions were strong im­ pressions upon students. If they used German apparatus, they would infer the superiority of German products and perhaps of German ways. Als later urged that technical dictionaries of British or American origin be substituted for those prestigious German reference books which doubled as catalogues of German equipment. After experi­ encing a long period of German ascendancy as the "fountainhead of scientific culture," the peoples of devastated Eu­ rope seemed prepared to replace German with English and French as the common languages of science, and to use British and American products. Yet clearly no govern­ mental, educational, or scientific institution could be ex­ pected to place large orders until it could inspect and try "scientific equipment of United Nations origin." To close German industry without adequate substitution would re­ sult merely in "its unobtrusive transfer to . . . neighboring countries such as Sweden and Switzerland," thus enabling Germany to rebuild a potentially dangerous industry and to exclude "us from a useful potential market." These private views ultimately gained approval in a Science Commission document emphasizing the national security of all states represented in CAME: "It is essential that in the new Europe Allied Scientific Culture and outlook shall replace the German."14 Once determined, need began to precipitate response. The scientific culture of an older Europe had featured books 14 AME/D/1,

pp. 1-2; Science Commission draft minutes, 17th meeting, 21 November 1944, p. 3; AME/D/21, p. 4; CAME, 9th meeting, p. 8; CAME Executive Bureau, Draft Report, 30th meeting, 14 March 1945, p. 3; "Notes on the future of the scientific instruments & kindred industries in Germany & the Allied countries," n.d., CAME, VL Available evidence does not provide an answer to the question of authorship. Cf. Science Commission, "Matters of Broad Principle arising out of its Work," AME/A/99, 26 February 1945.

46

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

and other references in which German "equipment was prominently illustrated and . . . German firms boldly named." Kenneth Sisam of Clarendon Press was approached for advice on substituting United Nations scientific text­ books for those of German origin. Copyright law might be modified to facilitate freer use of certain materials, Sisam suggested. "German copyright law and German publishers have made it easy for everybody to adopt the illustrations produced in German books," he noted, whereas "English copyright law goes to extremes and makes every single diagram copyright and the subject of permissions and usually fees."15 But no wartime action was undertaken to change copyright laws. A technical subcommittee of the Science Commission guided the Commission secretariat in compiling inventories of all equipment "according to British standards" for teach­ ing laboratories at each level of education. Distributed to British suppliers and to all Allied governments, the lists were said to "refer to British equipment and contain suf­ ficient specification to facilitate the drawing up of definite orders." To a query by future Unesco participant Pierre Auger of France on whether an international standards organization should not be set up to universalize specifica­ tions, the Science Commission chairman replied that a pre­ vious body operating under German influence in Switzer­ land was being replaced by a new inter-allied agency "capable of dealing with all International Standards." It was to have joint headquarters in London and New York.16 In some Science Commission inventories the names of American firms were included as examples or suggestions. U.S. representatives to CAME sought to establish a more 15

Letter of 15 November 1944, draft minutes of Commission meet­ ing of 21 December 1944. 16 Science Commission, meeting of technical sub-committee, points for discussion, n.d., CAME, vi, p. 2; draft minutes of 19th meeting, 10 April 1945, p. 2, as corrected by addendum to minutes. Perhaps Auger was mindful of the Bureau international des poids et mesures which had long operated near Paris.

SEED AND CIRCUMSTANCE

47

direct liaison between manufacturers and prospective pur­ chasers. Certain American industrialists asked that the lists contain catalogue references; at the same time, paradoxi­ cally, they avowed distaste for governmental action. An Anglo-American mission visited the Continent, when con­ ditions permitted, in order to investigate rehabilitation re­ quirements for scientific instruments and laboratory equip­ ment. Its report found an exemplary opinion in one Dutch citizen's comment that "British and American industry had at the present time . . . great opportunity in European markets." The CAME Science Commission concluded that supply to liberated countries would remain impossible with­ out special measures for Allied industrial organization and for necessary financing. Moreover, a Commission report held, "quite apart from the provision of equipment and books there is need for a central authoritative body with the highest political support permanently to act as a focus for all inter-allied scientific relations."17 Discrepant motives were fueling organized postwar scientific relations. Individual governments developed scientific liaison offices to serve wartime needs of their own nations and their allies. This experience gave rise to proposals for peacetime ex­ tension of scientific contacts both bilateral and multilateral. The British Commonwealth Science Committee explored 17

Science Commission, draft minutes of 21st meeting, 12 June 1945, pp. 3-4, 5; AME/SC/4; draft minutes of 22nd meeting, 11 September 1945, p. 4; "Report of the Anglo-American Mission Enquiry into the Requirements of Scientific Instruments and Laboratory Equipment of European Countries," Ministry of Supply, CAME, vi, p. 3. A mem­ ber of Representative J. William Fulbright s visiting team on Ameri­ can findings at CAME wrote: "One thing was clear: the United Nations are determined to end their educational dependence on Ger­ many, both as a source of material supplies and equipment, and as training ground for their technical and professional workers. They now look to Britain and the United States, as partners and leaders in the renewal of their cultural life, to supply what they previously derived from Germany." C. Mildred Thompson, "United Nations Plan for Post-War Education," Foreign Policy Reports, 20 (1 March 1945), p. 310.

48

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

schemes for collecting and disseminating useful information which might be modeled on those of the Imperial Agricul­ tural Bureaux. Its report recommended that "Governments of the various English-speaking countries . . . consider the possibility of maintaining permanent scientific and techni­ cal representation in London and possibly also in other capital cities of the English-speaking world." Parliamen­ tarians and others commended the assignment of scientific attaches to British embassies. Α. V. Hill, Secretary of the Royal Society, proposed "permanent scientific and technical representation" in London and elsewhere. He later aug­ mented this proposal, suggesting that governments subsi­ dize airlines by underwriting a certain number of passenger miles earmarked for scientists. Authorized scientists would be designated by the Royal Society and by national acad­ emies abroad. Nature projected a multilateral future from Hill's earlier design: "one of his reasons for urging British leadership in this field is the vital importance of building up as rapidly as possible a world organization for sharing the beneficent results of scientific discovery."18 These and other proposals received judicious assessment and persuasive reformulation by Joseph Needham, whose efforts on behalf of organized international relationships warrant further consideration. The Cambridge University biochemist and future Unesco staff member, who since 1942 18 Joseph Needham, "Science and International Relations," Fiftieth Robert Boyle Lecture, 1 June 1948 (Oxford, revised and published August 1949), pp. 14-16; "Science in the Foreign Service," Nature, 155 (17 February 1945), pp. 187-88; Needham, "Memorandum on an International Science Co-operation Service," Chungking, July 1944, p. 6; Needham, reports of the first, also the second and third years' working of the Sino-British Science Co-operation Bureau, Brit­ ish Council Scientific Office in China, February 1944 and February 1946 respectively, especially p. 16 in the latter; "Co-operation in Scientific Research in the British Empire," Nature, 152 (10 July 1943), pp. 28-30; Nature, 152 ( 20 November 1943), p. 596; "British Empire Scientific Conference," Nature, 155 (31 March 1945), pp. 373-75.

SEED AND CIRCUMSTANCE

49

had directed the Sino-British Science Co-operation Office and served in China as Scientific Counsellor to the British Embassy, in December 1943 proposed a World Science Co-operation Service. This memorandum and others Needham sent for CAME consideration. He urged postwar con­ tinuation of both the private international scientific unions and the governmental science liaison offices, but under­ scored the insufficiency of bilateral means alone. "The need for contact can be met neither by instituting 'scientific at­ taches' at all Embassies, for that would be subject to diplo­ matic formalities; nor by sending from one country to an­ other industrial scientists whose loyalty is to particular commercial interests, for their advice could hardly be un­ biased or disinterested." Needham set about to agitate for a new and autonomous international science agency related to "whatever instrument of world organisation the United Nations agree to set up."19 "What we need .. . is fundamentally an attempt to com­ bine the methods the world of science has spontaneously worked out for itself in periods of peace, with those which the nations have had to work out under the stress of war," wrote Needham. To "weld [these wartime arrangements] into a satisfactorily functioning system" he envisaged an international service of working scientists ("apart from a comparatively small permanent secretariat"), organized with a headquarters linking "permanent representatives in 19

Quoted in "Science and International Relations," pp. 19-20; "Memorandum on an International Science Co-operation Service," p. 10. Among writers advancing comparable ideas for postwar organiz­ ing, Needham cites David Mitrany. Besides Needham's 1943 and 1944 (London) memoranda, the following observations are drawn from three other unpublished writings: "Measures for the Organisa­ tion of International Co-operation in Science in the Post-War Period," memorandum addressed to the Parliamentary and Scientific Commit­ tee, London, December 1944; untitled memorandum for the CAME Science Commission, 26 February 1945; "The Place of Science and International Scientific Cooperation in Post-War World Organisation," Chungking, 28 April 1945.

50

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

all countries or regions." Scientists manning Needham's in­ ternational service would enjoy diplomatic immunity and guaranteed access to communication and transportation networks. "Field offices," whether in scientifically developed or underdeveloped parts of the world, would bring together international and local representatives of science. In Eu­ rope and North America, at least, international scientists might be domiciled within the national academies. Needham commended the wartime principle by which offices of scientific cooperation were "not confined to any one science" but had "carte blanche to do anything" that activated "bet­ ter scientific cooperation between the countries which they link." This enterprise would be financed by member states "on some income-tax basis to be agreed upon." He foresaw enthusiastic participation by his fellow scientists. Needham intended to encourage the development of sci­ ence and scientific applications both by promoting the in­ terests of scientists and by animating the exchange of in­ formation. Freer flow of research apparatus, chemicals and equipment, scientific books, periodicals, manuscripts for publication, translations of manuscripts, abstracts, and sci­ entists themselves across national boundaries constituted a pertinent task for his organization. A current register of sci­ entific institutions with their staff members and specialties should be maintained and distributed. Needham said that an international center capable of disseminating scientific information on a popular level—proposed earlier by Arnold Raestad and others20—could be associated with his agency. Needham wanted something more than freer exchange.21 20

Raestad's committee on behalf of IICI included Julian S. Huxley and Henri Laugier, among other scientists. Advancement of Science, 2 (August 1943), pp. 289-91. 21 He did not, however, belittle this task: In all ages exceptional scholars have acted as clearing-houses for science and learning, and the more so the worse the political chaos of the age. In the middle ages the monastic houses and the Arabic translators in Spain fulfilled such functions, or the Sung Confucians

SEED A N D CIRCUMSTANCE

51

The promotion of science carried important financial and institutional implications. Private international unions with their emphasis on pure scientific research "should be strengthened and set up for all the sciences." If possible, smaller existing international organs for applied science such as the International Locust Control Commission and the International Fisheries Board should be combined as branches of one body, thereby placing them on a sounder and more stable footing. Needham's new science service would advise governments and provide assistance beyond what Needham called the "bright zones" where science chanced to develop. Organizing internationally to assist the "periphery," Needham contended, would be vastly prefer­ able to unleashing by default a "scramble of advisers with relatively narrow loyalties." In final draft these plans stopped short of a reallocation of scarce resources. A commitment to support for the inter­ national activities of various national academies of science was penciled out of the CAME copy of a list of proposed activities. On dissemination of certain kinds of technological information Needham was comparably hesitant. Cartel spokesmen, he noted, already claimed that they were "per­ forming, to a large extent, the functions of international in China, or, in the 17th century, the tireless Comenius (Bishop Komensky). Exiled from his native Bohemia, Komensky kept to­ gether through years of wanderings not only his church, the Unitas Fratum, but also the band of adherents of the "new, or experimen­ tal" philosophy, whose later great achievement was the foundation of the Royal Society, suggested by Komensky himself. And when the Royal Society was founded, what a post-office did [Henry] Oldenburg, its first Foreign Secretary, keep. He it was who opened the series of letters from the microscopist, Leeuwenhoek, in which for the first time the New World lying beyond the limits of ordi­ nary vision was described. A scientific post-office, indeed, requires the qualities of a "department of insufficient addresses," for its aim should be to ensure that a communication reaches its proper desti­ nation, a destination that the author himself may only vaguely know.

52

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

scientific and technical cooperation." This was being done "privately, in the interests of private profit, and in the ab­ sence of all public responsibility." But the International Science Cooperation Service—Needham's current designa­ tion—must tread warily into this thicket. While an ISCS would make every effort to assist indus­ trially backward countries, it is not to be supposed that any very ready transfer of commercial secrets of the tech­ nological or "know-how" type can be looked for, but ISCS would, at any rate, be able to bring the maximum of goodwill to bear upon this problem. For this purpose it would have to maintain close and cordial contact with the leading western industrial firms. The question is, of course, closely related to the question of patent law, and ISCS would be in a position to offer valuable help in the world unification of this. The International Science Cooperation Service, then, would move with the tide of corporate transnationalism, not against it. Needham's memos and his letters helped to define organi­ zational imperatives for all CAME participants interested in maintaining orderly continuing relationships among the allied United Nations. They also strengthened the hopes of scientists who engaged in the Conference of AlHed Ministers of Education. But the postwar fate of organized internation­ al science and technology was not immediately clear. Social scientists formed no commission under CAME aus­ pices. Certain CAME participants who were professionally identified with other fields, however, felt a special need to counteract theories of racial superiority disseminated on the European continent. Historical rectification such as that essayed earlier beneath a CAME disclaimer with Clarendon Press did not, in their estimation, go far enough. Alf Sommerfelt of Norway put his thoughts into a 1945 memorandum entitled "Education and Racial Tolerance."

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The German "racial" theory has made a certain impres­ sion especially in those countries where the people ac­ cording to it are of the same "race" as the Germans. Very few even among those who have received the highest education have any clear ideas about "race" ...[;] only a few weeks ago a British paper published the story of a couple who had adopted a French baby orphan and were now learning French in order to be able to speak to the child when it grew up. . . . It will be impossible to ex­ terminate completely the racial ideas in Germany. They may be banished from schools and universities but they will go underground or at least linger on because they are, at least, in a less absurd form, much older than Nazism. A postwar international organization concerned with edu­ cation could nonetheless offer suggestions more pertinent to 'Tiow elementary anthropological and linguistic facts might be introduced into the curricula of schools and universities." Sommerfelt thought that curricular reform should be aug­ mented by school broadcasting, films, and other methods. "In countries of non-European civilisation, the emphasis would have to be laid less on European affairs than on facts of importance to the country in question." Such instruction should be significant "not only in combating fascist and Nazi ideas but also in furthering a more tolerant and com­ prehending attitude."22 Sommerfelt's initiative received immediate support from several individual Conference participants. On behalf of the Science Commission, C. D. Darlington, J.B.S. Haldane, and future Unesco Director-General Julian S. Huxley composed a succinct statement refuting the Nazi claim of a hierarchy of racial merit. This memorandum by three fellows of the Royal Society noted the common confusion of race with culture. Their statement concluded on a strongly affirmative 22 CAME,

Drafting Committee, meeting 2, 7 February 1945, p. 4; AME/A/96; CAME, meeting 16, 7 March 1945, p. 4.

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

note: "In educational curricula steps should be taken to point out the contributions made by peoples and nations of different racial type[s] to cultural and material progress, and also to emphasize the importance of cultural as against purely racial factors in history."23 Not all Commission members concurred on an appro­ priate disposition of the statement. Its authors and others proposed to print and circulate it with a CAME imprimatur. On this question Sir Alfred Zimmern—a contender for the chief Unesco staff position—abstained on the grounds that the statement partook of the character of "papal utterance" and "introduced something extremely controversial." The offense to imperial sentiments did not require elaboration. Dr. Grayson Kefauver of the United States also contended that CAME issuance might be unfortunate at the moment; if the Conference endorsed such an investigation as here proposed, "all kinds of movements would be seeking spon­ sorship." L. Rapkine of France, on the other hand, thought CAME the proper source and 1945 the proper time. The Conference chairman averred his willingness to see this controversial statement publicized by some alternative means, but he drew special attention to dangerous implica­ tions of the last paragraph. Following extended discussion "it was agreed that the best use of the paper could be made, not by publishing it, but by retaining it for the information of the Conference and communicating it to other authori­ ties to whom it may be useful." With CAME members nearing the end of their corporate existence, Sir Ernest Barker introduced Haldane to the Clarendon Press with a view to publishing an unsanctioned pamphlet on the race problem.24 23 CAME, meeting 16, p. 4; "Notes on the Draft Resolution on the Enquiry into the Theory of Race," AME/A/104, 19 March 1945, and appendix n, "To the Science of Our Time" (1935); CAME, meeting 17, 11 April 1945, p. 6; Drafting Committee, meeting 5, 20 March 1945, draft minutes, p. 3. 24 Science Commission, "Statement on Nazi Race Theory," AME/ A/114; Science Commission, meeting 20, 15 May 1945, draft minutes,

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Private spokesmen of many nationalities advocated the organized handling of continuing problems after the cessa­ tion of hostilities. Long before the war had ended, American draftsmen were offering plans comparable to those of vol­ untary associations such as the British Council of Education in World Citizenship and the London International Assem­ bly. In several respects these unofficial plans ran along similar lines. Plenary assembly, council, and staff consti­ tuted the major anticipated organs. National commissions or committees with individual members drawn from vari­ ous professional interests outside official circles were men­ tioned in a few outlines. Virtually all organizational sketches by private individuals and groups provided striking organ­ izational representation for voluntary associations or non­ governmental organizations. Several proposed five plenary representatives for each state, of whom one or more would come from private sectors of national life, but none offered details on how these individuals would be selected. Few outlined connections to a central international organization of the United Nations; those that did so tended to stress autonomy from it for their charted agency. Some hinted at procedures for setting international standards of education­ al behavior and following them by means of periodic prog­ ress reports from member governments. Most foresaw expansive programs. Ways and means received slight attention in most blueprints. When they addressed future membership, the proposals usually bespoke universalist positions, although different authors no doubt conceived of varying universes.25 pp. 2-3; CAME 18, 16 May 1945, minutes; Executive Bureau, meeting 33, 23 May 1945, draft report, p. 2; Science Commission, meeting 21, 12 June 1945, draft minutes, pp. 4-5; Executive Bureau, meeting 34, 13 June 1945, p. 3. 25 An American edition of the British Education and the United Nations was published in 1943 by the American Council on Public Afifairs under introductory comments by Grayson N. Kefauver, George F. Zook, President of the American Council on Education, and Wil-

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But within the halls of British and American officialdom, too, less conspicuous preparation was underway. One Brit­ ish figure central in CAME deliberations recounted that from the beginning "we thought we'd have to get as far as possible with Government while [the] war duress was on." Another recalled that several British officials, himself in­ cluded, saw CAME from the first as their opportunity for an "augmented International Bureau of Education" to over­ shadow Geneva's BIE. Across the Atlantic, preliminary dis­ cussions took place within the Department of State. The General Advisory Committee on Cultural Relations, mobi­ lized in 1941 by the challenge of Axis incursion into Latin America, two years later received from Under Secretary of State Sumner Welles an authorization to consider "possible establishment and operation of an international cultural organization." This committee suggested "an international agency for educational relations and cooperation." Though the same report recommended early action, high-level planIiam G. Carr, Secretary of the Educational Policies Commission of the National Education Association. National Education Association, After-War Educatbnal Reconstruction, Personal Growth Leaflet 151; John K. Norton, "Keystone for the Peace Treaty," Nation's Schools, 29 (March 1942), pp. 51-52; Kefauver, "Peace Aims Call for Inter­ national Action in Education," New Europe, 3 (May 1943), pp. 1519; I. L. Kandel, "Education and the Postwar Settlement," paper for the Commission to Study the Organization of Peace, Third Report, in International Conciliation, 389 (April 1943), pp. 368, 372-75; "World Educational Plan Would Purge Axis Schools," Christian Sci­ ence Monitor (CSM), 8 April 1943; "U.S. Now Planning to Educate Europe, OfiScial Reveals," NYT, 8 April 1943; "Global Education Seen Urgent Need," NYT, 9 April 1943; Walter M. Kotschnig, Slaves Need No Leaders (New York, 1943), pp. 250-73; Kotschnig, "Toward an IOECD: Some Major Issues Involved," Educational Record, 25 (July 1944), pp. 259-87; Educational Policies Commission, Educa­ tion and the People's Peace (Washington, 1943); James Marshall, "What About an International Office for Education?" American Acad­ emy of Political and Social Science, The Annals, 235 (September 1944), pp. 33-40.

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57

ning then languished.28 In Ottawa, John E. Robbins, chief of the education branch of the Bureau of Statistics, ad­ vanced semi-official thinking in his International Planning for Education, published in April 1944 under the aegis of the Canadian Council of Education for Citizenship. When R. A. Butler chaired the November 1942 session of "a Conference held at the Board of Education," as its records called this first CAME meeting, he revealed no in­ tention of creating an organization to continue educational activities after the war. Butler later warned a deputation from the private Council of Education in World Citizenship about "the danger of indulging in fantasies" and stressed "the importance of combining realism with ideals."27 Since at least April 1942, nonetheless, Butler had participated with­ in the Ministerial Committee on Reconstruction Problems in formulating ideas regarding postwar re-education. As Richard Seymour later put it, "by 1942 [official] thought was increasingly being given to what was then called the post-war period." Butler proposed to his CAME colleagues a common statement for the inquiring press in March 1943: "the Conference fully realises that it has before it a very broad task which will take some time, but is tackling it in a systematic way." Seven months later he declared that the Conference had "formed the view that in its establishment and organisation lies the germ of a future International Or­ ganisation for Education." Early in 1945 the chairman pro­ posed alterations to a drafted official story of CAME so that the pamphlet's readers would recognize that "in fact those responsible for initiating the Conference believed in the ideal of a United Nations Educational Organisation 26 Harley Notter, Postwar Foreign Policy Preparation, 1939-1945, Department of State Pub. 3580 (Washington, 1949), pp. 53, 236f. 27 In a letter of 1 June 1967 to H. H. Krill de Capello, Butler ex­ plicitly denied "that the conference had been convened with the intention to create" an international organization. "The Creation of [Unesco]," pp. 3, 5; cf. Education and the United Nations, U.K. edi­ tion, p. 51.

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and had had the long-term aspect of the question in mind as well as the more immediate problem of rehabilitation."28 Butler's reticence is obvious. But why did the Conference of Allied Ministers of Education evolve at all toward a post­ war organization? Without claiming full explanation, we can note the mounting pressure upon CAME's leader. As vic­ tory neared for the Allies, various competitors appeared intent upon seizing the initiative to found some sort of in­ ternational organization on education or related matters. Rotary International, the International Summer Schools, and the New Education Fellowship, for instance, threatened to enter the realm so prudently cultivated by Butler. Spokes­ men for pre-existent intergovernmental organizations such as the Institut de cooperation intellectuelle and the Bureau international d'education, too, voiced their claims. Butlers own associates among the Allied Ministers of Education grew more restive and outspoken beyond the discreet Con­ ference proceedings. Nils Hjelmveit of Norway and the Chinese observer at CAME expressed before the unofficial London International Assembly their preferences for en­ during international arrangements, and it seemed that they spoke there from something more than personal whimsy. On 4 February 1944, Rene Cassin of France officially broached within CAME the possibility of a permanent post­ war international "bureau" appropriate to the problems which conferees had been addressing. The CAME leadership in effect responded to these rising demands "by announcing their intention to create a Bureau themselves." From their use of the word bureau it is clear that various individuals had in mind different organizational implications. Butler's insistence that reorganizing around a "Bureau" would provide a "purely temporary" executive for 28 U.S. Charge Matthews, London, 25 April 1942, FR17S, 1942, i, p. 168; "Developments in the United Kingdom . . . ," p. 19; CAME, meeting 3, 16 March 1943, p. 4; CAME, meeting 15, 10 January 1945, p. 4. Cf. Allied, Plan for Education, p. 16.

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"the Conference only" hardly concealed general expecta­ tions of some form of continuing association. As the chair­ man himself acknowledged, this CAME bureau would have within its terms of reference the question of creating a United Nations Bureau of Education.28 A "bureau" or "executive organ," it now was said by CAME leaders, might facilitate Conference response to several difficulties and opportunities which had arisen. By taking suitable measures on finance and on other matters this executive body could expedite the work ahead—in­ cluding tasks beyond armistice. It could act between CAME plenary meetings. The proliferating CAME commissions required some mode of coordinating various activities. Un­ der the bureau, an inter-Allied secretariat might "subse­ quently be extended by way of organic development" as demanded by Conference and bureau work, although in the British Council and the Board of Education some differ­ ences obtained among individuals as to the desired extent of this staff's multinationalization. The bureau, presided over by CAME's chief or his nominee, would be capable of directing the Conference's external affairs. It could make inquiries about aid from relief committees and organiza­ tions. Butler implied that it might defend CAME stakes at others' conferences on international education. Such an im­ pulse to defend his own enterprise was not to be the last by the political leader of an intergovernmental organization. Finally, the planned executive organ would serve to es­ tablish a certain pattern of order and degree among increas­ ingly numerous CAME participants. By the summer of 1943, official observers for the United States, the Soviet Union and China had joined CAME discussions. Participation by dele­ gates from many other governments declaring their alliance with the United Nations appeared imminent. It was "ob29AME/A/19; Hjelmtveit letter to Butler of 22 July 1943, AME/ A/19a; "Analysis . . . Relating to [CAME]"; "Developments in the United Kingdom . . CAME, meeting 6, 5 October 1943.

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viously necessary to restrict the size of the Bureau." This bureau was designed to seat eleven executive councilmen, with proper if tacit regard for the Great Powers-to-be.30 Undesignated group: China, France, Great Britain, the United States, the Soviet Union—1 representative each Group A: Belgium, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Nor­ way—2 representatives, rotated every 6 months Group B: Czechoslovakia, Greece, Poland, Yugoslavia— 2 representatives, rotated every 6 months Group C: Dominions and India—1 representative, rotated every 6 months Group D: Allied States of Central and South America—1 representative, rotated every 6 months Discussants at the informal meeting of CAME which adopted this plan showed their sympathy with Alf Sommerfelt's reservation: The Norwegian Minister of Education is of the opinion that no international organisation of a non-political char­ acter—and prima facie of a cultural character—should introduce the principle of inequality of states. However, in a spirit of co-operation he accepts the recommenda­ tion of the Select Committee provided it is understood that it is strictly temporary and in no way prejudices the introduction of other more acceptable principles in the final organisation. Following Conference reorganization, official American reporters could discern little change in procedure. "The British have initiated [CAME] and are guiding it," con­ cluded one. "Butler . . . desires to develop the Conference, step by step, into a United Nations agency in the educa­ tional and cultural fields. The delegates of the European Allied Governments appear to be dependent upon the Brit30 AME/A/20a, pp. 1-3; AME/A/21a, pp. 1, 3; Winant, 30 July 1943, FRUS, 1943, x, pp. 1152-53; CAME, meeting 5, 27 July 1943, P- 6-

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61

ish in policy, financial, and organizational matters." Business was conducted informally in English. Decisions were reached through consultation and agreement rather than voting. No fixed number of representatives constituted a delegation; these ran from a single individual for some among the states represented to six or more for Britain. Be­ fore the bureau's establishment, steering was accomplished by CAME officers and the British Council's staff. After re­ organization the bureau combined like elements to serve as "the chief directing agency of the Conference."31 The British government had made quite explicit the chal­ lenge of reorganizing CAME to at least one participant of observer status. Members of the U.S. Embassy were ap­ proached by representatives of the British Board of Edu­ cation and the British Council, who inquired whether the United States would advance its engagement to "full par­ ticipation" in CAME.32 The American response, as already indicated, did not come immediately. By the end of 1943, however, the U.S. observer cabled Washington that "we should enter the Conference as quickly as possible if we are to affiliate with it at all, because the longer we stay out the less fluid it will become and the more difficult it will be to secure modifications in its organization or objectives." The first official U.S. call to engagement evidently was sounded from the field, not from the capital. The Soviet Union reacted circumspectly to possibilities for further engaging. Officially the U.S.S.B. observer's stance was one of considerable skepticism, although not one of outright rejection, according to a U.S. Embassy report of 30 December 1943. At this time, Soviet membership in a postwar enterprise seemed contingent upon specific devel­ opments along the way. Thus the Soviet observer inquired whether the U.S. might enter CAME without asking for 31 Winant, drawing upon assessment by U.S. observer Ralph E. Turner, 7 October 1943, FRUS, 1943, i, p. 1156; Thompson, "United Nations Plans for Post-War Education," p. 311. 32 Paragraphs to follow draw upon French and upon FRUS.

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organizational changes, expressed his apprehension over Soviet embarrassment if the Americans and other observers should upgrade their commitments without the prior knowl­ edge of his government, and asked to be kept informed of U.S. policy toward formal participation. He felt that the Conference was unduly subject to British influence, a state­ ment the official American reporter translated as "some­ what deprecatory." If a permanent international educational office were confined to exchange of purely technical infor­ mation, the Soviet Union might not feel great hesitancy about participating in its work. If, to the contrary, such an office undertook scrutiny of subject matter introduced in curricula of national schools, the U.S.S.R. "would be ex­ tremely reluctant to participate." Soon Soviet officials would be given cause for concern on this issue. The Soviet observer intimated that in any case his government "would prefer to conduct its cultural relations bilaterally." This in fact proved a precise statement on the Soviet strategy, for the U.S.S.R. would engage formally neither in CAME nor— during its early years—in CAME's successor organization. Other actors in a position to engage in organized inter­ national activities during the wartime British tenancy of CAME responded variously to their chances. Chinese spokesmen deferred to the U.S. lead before moving toward a firm commitment in a permanent organization. In 1945 they expressed enthusiasm for an organized international program devoted to "readjustment of the human mind." Canadian officials dispatched an interim notice early in 1944 that full CAME participation could not be undertaken immediately because of difficulties in obtaining a measure of agreement among all provincial educational authorities. Australia's government communicated its willingness to participate fully in continuing efforts if duplication with the functions and financial costs of interwar bodies could be avoided. The solution urged upon wartime London con­ ferees was to replace old agencies with the newly proposed one. A New Zealand observer told his American counter-

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part that his own government "was not anxious to incur financial obligations of any substantial proportions in con­ nection with the Conference," but he left the door open to future commitment. The observer from South Africa stated that his government did not care to appoint a representa­ tive, although after the war it might be interested in partici­ pating. This government requested "a provision in the Con­ stitution for withdrawal from membership, say, on 12 months' notice." His American counterpart reported that the South African observer seemed "lukewarm" toward a proposed organization on educational matters. However conditionally in the case of certain governments, each of these states would sooner or later become a member of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organ­ ization. Piece by piece, individuals acting in unofficial and official capacities were constituting a more durable organization. Both the CAME executive body and newly engaged partici­ pants contributed toward reshaping wartime arrangements for peacetime operations. New participants brought new expectations. The British inclination toward converting CAME was to tinker incrementally with this London con­ cession. Americans, wanting an originating role, tried the gambit of starting afresh. In April 1944, a U.S. delegation was sent to London for the announced purpose of opening up CAME and making of it "an entirely new organization."33 33 The Rev. Gwilym Davies, Honorary Director of the Welsh League of Nations Union Education Committee, scrutinized several draft organization charters from British and American sources and submitted his own remarkably comprehensive synthesis, entitled United Nations Permanent International Organization for Education (Cardiff, 1944), to the British Council for Education in World Citizenship, whence it entered CAME circles. Cf. Lura G. Camery, "American Backgrounds of [Unesco]," Ph.D. diss., Stanford University, January 1949, p. 295. Kandel, "Educational Utopias," The Annals, 235 (Sep­ tember 1944), pp. 41-48, offers a critical review of several plans. The quoted phrase is Richard A. Johnson's in "The Origin of [Unesco]," International Conciliation, 424 (October 1946), p. 443. FRUS, 1944,

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Of course the leadership of the Conference of Allied Min­ isters of Education could not claim universal participation. But this U.S. initiative had the effect of extending CAME beyond the European theater of the UN alliance. The vow to transform CAME must not have seemed threatening to Conference incumbents, for founding mem­ bers readily accommodated themselves to much of the lan­ guage in a U.S. draft constitution entitled "Suggestions for the Development of the Conference of Allied Ministers of Education into the United Nations Organization for Educa­ tional and Cultural Reconstruction." The draft alluded to relationships between a coming organization and other in­ ternational institutions. It specified that administrative ex­ penses should be shared by member states on a basis agreed upon by the organization's plenary. In an eye-catching in­ novation, it required member governments to supply peri­ odic information about national education and cultural matters—an obvious follow-through on private American initiatives, and no doubt a baneful gesture in the view of Soviet onlookers. And it outlined a strong and singular Director, or executive manager, who would formulate pro­ posals for appropriate action by the organization s plenary Conference and its smaller Executive Board, appoint staff, and maintain the responsibility of these new civil servants to himself. Following two open meetings with established CAME participants, U.S. delegation leader J. William Fulbright chaired a small joint committee which modified and i, p. 969 lists members of the visiting U.S. team. "Tentative [revised United States] Draft for a United Nations Organization for Educa­ tional and Cultural Reconstruction" is in Notter, Postwar Foreign Policy Preparation, appendix 49. The following documents report the comparison and discussion narrated below: AME/A/48 and 48e; AME/A/53; AME/A/81; CAME, meeting 9, 6 April 1944; "The Beginnings of Unesco," especially pp. 7-8; CAME, Open Meeting 1, 12 April 1944; Open Meeting 2, 14 April 1944; "United Nations Plans . . . ," pp. 317-18. Divergent membership universes are evident from the projection by some original CAME participants of represen­ tation for their contemporary colonies.

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65

elaborated the proposal into a text circulated by CAME to forty-four governments and authorities for their reactions. Some months later the U.S. government, which in the mean­ time had grown cooler toward multilateral strategies en­ tailing rehabilitation aid, submitted a revised title chang­ ing the proposed organization's operative designation from "Reconstruction" to "Cooperation."34 Private and public drafts alike owed much to internation­ al institutions of their drafters' ken. To no antecedent structure was more attention paid than to the International Labor Organization. Moreover, ILO spokesmen were them­ selves eager to help in formulating the basis for a kindred agency. Edward J. Phelan, ILO acting Director in Montreal, and C. Wilfred Jenks, then ILO Legal Adviser, suggested modifications to the draft Constitution regarding specific obligations to be assumed by participants. Both men urged that the new organization be placed upon a permanent treaty foundation at the outset. Separate protocols could be attached on reconstruction. Jenks commended the setting of international standards for activities within the planned organization's jurisdiction—that is, for activities vaguely connoted by the words educational and cultural. Enlarging upon the American proposal to exact periodic national re34 For the U.S. IOECC draft, see Notter, appendix 50. The drafting committee of April 1944 included J. W. Fulbright (U.S.), S. Glaser (Poland), J. Hoste (Belgium), W. R. Richardson (U.K.), A. Sommerfelt (Norway), T. D. Tsien (China), and P. Vaucher (France). By 10 January 1945 the following governments had commented favor­ ably on the Tentative Draft Constitution: Australia, Belgium, Czecho­ slovakia, Dominican Republic, Ethiopia, France, Greece, Guatemala, India, Luxembourg, Netherlands, Norway, Peru, Poland, and Yugo­ slavia. Interim replies had come from Canada and South Africa. With­ in the next two months Egypt, Iran and Turkey had replied encourag­ ingly. The CAME drafting committee organized in 1945 included C. Muller (Belgium), T. D. Tsien (China), J. Opocensky (Czecho­ slovakia), J. R. Van Stuwe (Netherlands), P. Vaucher (France), A. Sommerfelt (Norway), F. R. Cowell (U.K.), W. R. Richardson (U.K.), M. Clayton (U.K.), R. A. Johnson (U.S.), B. Karavaev (U.S.S.R.), N. Parkinson (U.K.), and P. M. Downie (U.K.).

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ports about formal governmental action (a proposal itself rooted in the ILO practice of applying standards for labor), Jenks urged that national reports also cover official policies and "other matters." The secretariat should be authorized to summarize national reports for consideration by official participants. These provisions were later cut, perhaps be­ cause it was recognized that they might become applicable to all participants instead of merely to the recalcitrant actors for whom they were first contemplated. ILO's tripartite representation system suggested a way for the planned intergovernmental organization to allow participation by educators and others. The ILO consultants convinced CAME's drafting committee that plenary votes should be cast by individuals rather than by countries. But this provision too was later changed so that, in words ascribed to CAME, the new organization was "conceived on a representative basis, the members being States."35 Direct plenary representation was, of course, only one of the possible modes of accommodating private individuals and their associations. Proposed national cooperating bodies (National Commissions) were touted as the reservoirs if not as the selectors of delegates for the plenary sessions. Some CAME participants favored delegation seats reserved for nongovernmental representatives. Others wanted nothing more than their governments' consultation with the national cooperating body, which body itself might assume the form of a public authority, such as the ministry of education. Still others thought that the question of whether to estab­ lish any national cooperating body whatsoever should re­ main a matter for each government to decide. Belgian fonctionnaires, in 1945 preoccupied with cultural recon­ struction at home, perhaps looked with the greatest reluc­ tance upon unbridled nongovernmental participation. 35 Phelan letter of 30 May 1944, AME/A/91; Drafting Committee, meetings 1 (29 January), 2 (7 February), and 8 (23 April 1945); AME/A/109A and 109*; AME/A/111A; Allied Plan for Education, p. 37.

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French spokesmen, on the other hand, .insisted upon the integral status of nongovernmental agents within an organ­ ization ascending—or, given the IICI of Paris, re-ascending —from war's devastation. CAME conferees ultimately sent to various governments no fewer than five alternative pro­ visions for composing the new organization's plenary Con­ ference, and several others on creating, or not creating, national commissions or national cooperating bodies. Thus the fundamental question of which kinds of political units might participate in a permanent institution remained one of the organizational problems unresolved by the Confer­ ence of Allied Ministers of Education. London drafters claimed that the Norwegian reservation regarding unequal state representation upon CAME's ex­ ecutive body was met, for the proposed Executive Board, by the proviso that Board members would exercise their delegated powers "on behalf of the Conference as a whole and not as representatives of their respective Governments." Executive Board election provisions specified that nongov­ ernmental leaders would enjoy a strong voice in Board af­ fairs. The General Conference was exhorted to select for the Executive Board "persons competent in the arts, the humanities, the sciences, education and the diffusion of ideas." Plenary electors likewise were charged with diversi­ fying the Board's cultures and balancing its "geographical" origins. But no procedures were offered to assure the at­ tainment of these ideals.36 Science Commission participants in CAME demanded an explicit place for science within the title of any peacetime international educational and cultural organization. Col­ leagues of other sensibilities parried their initiatives. Cul­ ture, it was said, embraced science. If so, replied J. G. Crowther of the Science Commission, culture also subsumed education. Scientists had not been represented in the initial 36 AME/A/109A and 109Ae; AME/A/125 and 125A; Drafting Committee, meeting 8, 23 April 1945, p. 5; CAME, meeting 18, 16 May 1945, p. 2.

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planning phases; to win them over, Joseph Needham and others stated, their calling must be properly appreciated. U.S. spokesman and educator Grayson Kefauver, on the other hand, contended that to acknowledge science thus would lead Americans in the arts and humanities to press for their own separate international organizations. The issue of a named place for science remained unsettled as CAME participants ceased their work. Scientists' political energies, however, were by this time fully activated.37 At the United Nations Conference on International Or­ ganization in San Francisco during the springtime of 1945, Henri Bonnet for France, supported by many Latin Ameri­ can delegates, recommended the convocation of a general conference charged with establishing an organisation in­ ternational de cooperation intellectuelle. The government of Free France expected to call a constituents' conference to create this United Nations organization; the French would convene it in agreement with interested governments and especially with the British who "at the beginning of this war" had acted as host to ministers of education from "a certain number of Allied countries." Dutch authorities expressed their desire to invite an organizing conference on education to make up for one scheduled back in the late summer of 1914 but somehow—first because of war, then presumably because of peace—never held. In Washington, 37

CAME, Open Meeting 2, 14 April 1944, p. 7; CAME, meeting 10, 19 April 1944, p. 2; Commission on Scientific and Laboratory Equipment, 14th meeting, 5 September 1944, draft minutes, p. 1; CAME, meeting 13, 13 September 1944, p. 3. Needham, "The Place of Science . . Science Commission, 19th meeting, 10 April 1945, draft minutes, pp. Ifi.; CAME, meeting 17, 11 April 1945; CAME, Drafting Committee, 7th meeting, 18 April 1945, minutes, pp. 2-3; same, 8th meeting, 23 April 1944, pp. 1-2; CAME, Executive Bu­ reau, 32nd meeting, 25 April 1945, Draft Report, p. 3; Science Com­ mission, 20th meeting, 15 May 1945, draft minutes, pp. 4-7; CAME, 18th meeting, 16 May 1945, p. 1; Science Commission, 22nd meeting, 11 September 1945, draft minutes, pp. 2-3.

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Acting Secretary of State Joseph Grew instructed Kefauver to express informally the view of the U.S. government "that it would be glad to have" the British promptly convoke such a conference instead. This would guarantee that the U.S.CAME project would become "the basic working pro­ posals." When on 12 July 1945 the new British Labour Govern­ ment announced that a conference would be held in Lon­ don beginning 1 November, neither the French nor the Americans concealed their unhappiness over the style of this initiative. French displeasure would manifest itself most clearly in a competitive project for a United Nations organization for intellectual cooperation. Kefauver informed his Washington superiors that the British, despite the CAME unanimity they cited, had in fact not consulted American participants before acting. He observed forlornly that the announcement mentioned a CAME draft constitu­ tion but remained silent about the U.S. contribution. In lowering the curtain upon the Conference of Allied Ministers of Education, Dame Nancy Parkinson of the British Council made a little speech lauding the spirit of cooperation and friendship which had permeated CAME's work. Only in the final days, she said, "when ambitions for the future began to play a larger role," could "small cracks" be discerned among the allies of the United Nations.38 The 38

Camery, pp. 259-60, 263-64; Rene Cassin, "La naissance de FUnesco," he Monde, 2 November 1966; CAME, meeting 17, 11 April 1945, pp. 2-3; Kefauver to Washington, 24 April 1945, FRUS, 1945, x, p. 1511; CAME, meeting 18, 16 May 1945, p. 3, wherein Kefauver stated that "a reference to the original U.S. draft would be appreciated" when circulating the CAME proposals; Grew, 12 June 1945, FRUS, 1945, i, pp. 1512-13; Executive Bureau, meeting 35, p. 3; CAME, agenda for meeting 19, 12 July 1945, which includes an item on draft resolutions by the Executive Bureau re: London Con­ ference; Kefauver to Washington (2 messages), 13 July 1945, FRUS, 1945, i, pp. 1513-14; "Developments in the United Kingdom . . . ," pp. 80, 84. CAME plenarians met 21 times between 16 November 1942 and 5 December 1945; the Executive Bureau met 37 times from 27 October 1943 to 12 September 1945.

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metamorphosis from alliance toward ecumenical institution lay well ahead. In more immediate prospect appeared an opportunity for those engaged to shape the future course of an agency already rehearsed though still quite malleable.

3 OPPORTUNITIES UNLIMITED (1945-1949)

WOBLD WAR II had ended. The London constitutional con­ ference served as the first of immediate postwar occasions at which governmental and nongovernmental actors showed who was engaging, and why, in the organization of educa­ tional, scientific, cultural, and related international activi­ ties. Forty-four governments sent national delegations to the London conference beginning 1 November 1945. The United States contingent alone numbered well over thirty persons. As a British codicil to the minutes later asserted, France had "fully agreed to be specially associated with His Majesty's Government as the inviting Power." France's del­ egation included luminaries from many fields of endeavor. The absence of official representation from the U.S.S.R. suggested that the Soviet Union did not intend to join. The degree of commitment by all participants to the goals which they were to express remained to be demonstrated.1 1 Unpublished sources used for this chapter include Jan Opocensky, "The Constitution of Unesco" (n.d.), in two loose-leaf notebooks containing participant Opocensky's commentary upon draft texts by various groups from the early days of CAME through the London conference of 1945; Opocensky, "The Beginnings of Unesco" (1948?); working committee documents for the London constitutional con­ ference (ECO/CWC series), all in Unesco archives; and Basil Karp, "The Development of the Philosophy of UNESCO," Ph.D., Univer­ sity of Chicago, 1951. Interviews aided our interpretation. Helpful and accessible are Conference for the Establishment of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (London, June 1946), doc. ECO/Conf. 29, containing lists of delegates, con­ stitutional texts, speeches, and summaries of proceedings; General

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London conventionists came to propound a constitution, not to construct one. Their meeting lasted but sixteen days, much of which time was devoted to the choice of words, in English and in French, which would proclaim the resur­ rection of spirit within a newborn organization. Common sentiments notwithstanding, a French organizational project lay upon the conference table alongside the product of CAME-U.S. collaboration. French spokesmen contended that their text more clearly defined organizational objects. The proposed organisation international de cooperation intellectuelle differed from the charter for an Educational and Cultural Organization of the United Nations in several further respects. First, and most important, the French plan envisioned a membership that comprised spokesmen for nongovernmen­ tal entities as well as governments. The General Conference was authorized to admit any association "of a world-wide character" whose activities harmonized with the organiza­ tion s aims. Conference delegates, including those represent­ ing transnational associations, would each cast a vote. Second, and complementary, each signatory state obli­ gated itself to establish a National Commission "represen­ tative of the national genius" in the arts, humanities, sci­ ences, technology, political and social sciences, education, and in the media by which thought was disseminated. Com­ mission participants would be chosen "preferably by elec­ tion," although by constitutionally unspecified procedures. Every patron state would financially underwrite its National Commission. Commissions would employ permanent secConference proceedings; and annual reports of the Director-General, which are drawn on without specific references. Charles S. Ascher's monograph, Program-making in Unesco, 1946-1951, op. cit., is an exceedingly valuable detailed account from close quarters. Of per­ tinence to this period are H. H. Krill de Capello, "The Creation of [Unesco]" (cited above), and Luther H. Evans, The United States and UNESCO (Dobbs Ferry: Oceana, 1971), containing notes on the U.S. delegation meetings during October and November 1945.

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retariats. Approximately five-eighths of the delegates rep­ resenting each member state would come from its National Commission. Third, and conditional, the French draft depicted a stronger council (or Executive Committee) and a somewhat weaker executive manager (or Director). The Executive Board, which according to the French covering letter had been "too narrowly circumscribed in the British proposals," was instructed to "direct the work of the Organisation" by preparing the General Conference agenda and by insuring "the carrying out" of this program. Executive Committee members would serve five instead of three years and might be reelected. Hence this council would bring to bear accu­ mulating experience. It might indeed become the pivotal point in an emerging institution. A four-man permanent bu­ reau, drawn from the Executive Committee and including the Director of the secretariat, would assure "continuity of action" between council sessions. In principle, the Director could make of his office only what was allowed by his qual­ ified appointive power, by his attendance at all general meetings, and by "other functions entrusted to him" by Conference and Executive Committee. Fourth, the French statute laid more stress than did its CAME counterpart on setting and applying international standards for actors' behavior in the organization's substan­ tive areas. It suggested that participants contract themselves to implement additional agreements in these areas and out­ lined procedures for doing so. The French emphasized such goals as the free exchange of knowledge and information, the use of technical aids to education, and the rights of in­ tellectuals. French proposals provided that governments, national commissions, and world associations should "fur­ nish all the reports" that the organization requested per­ taining to educational and cultural developments. Fifth, the French draft instrument implied closer organic links to central United Nations bodies. It outlined for the plenary Conference an alternative role as council of the UN

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General Assembly on problems of education and culture. And this compact specified that the UN General Assembly should approve organization international de cooperation intellectuelle budgets and determine member assessments. Finally, the staff would be I'Institut international de co­ operation intellectuelle (IICI). Here French interests be­ came exceptionally transparent. The government of France evidently sought to advance its preferences by facilitating the participation of NGOs and francophilic individuals already based in Paris. Perhaps official France also anticipated the selection of Englishspeaking persons for service in the rudimentary secretariat directorship in exchange for Anglo-American acceptance of key elements from the plan for an organisation internation­ al de cooperation intellectuelle. The proposition about re­ viving the Paris IICI as this proposed organization's secre­ tariat, however, increasingly assumed the aspect of a first bid to be traded off against other stakes. On the question of which kinds of units would participate in the new organization, Henri Boxmet of France pleaded with constituent architects to design representation for transnational associations long active in culture and educa­ tion. Compromise provisions were approved to invite "suit­ able arrangements for consultation and co-operation" with nongovernmental organizations. NGOs could be assigned specific tasks; their representatives were authorized to take places on advisory committees set up by the General Con­ ference. Procedures were adopted by which NGO spokes­ men might take part as plenary observers and as discussants. A majority of governmental representatives, however, de­ cided that their organization's members would include only nation-states, not transnational associations. Eventually, the requirement that national commissions include private persons broadly representative of organiza­ tional activities was tailored to satisfy reluctant founding participants, notably the government of Great Britain. Each member state choosing to do so could create a national

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commission along lines to "suit its particular conditions." Governments were likewise free to call upon such panels for program advice, delegate recruitment, and "liaison in all matters of interest" to the voluntary associations served by individual members of national commissions. The French draft had proposed visits by the organization's secretariat officials to "follow" the work of national commissions. This proposal was incorporated after it had been altered to guar­ antee local consent and to redesignate the assignment as assisting, rather than reporting on, the work of national commissions. Thus was laid a tentative foundation for the promotion of organizational activities among domestic in­ terests. A proposal for separate assemblies of national com­ mission delegates and scientific and learned association rep­ resentatives, offered by Luis Marino Perez of Cuba, failed for want of a second. Compromise redrafting of provisions for an Executive Board left ambiguous the responsibilities of this organ and of its individual participants. Board tenure was set initially at three years so more individuals and presumably more professions and nationalities could participate. Conferees specified the possibility of re-election, however, thereby con­ ceding the French argument for continuity. U.S. spokesmen offered an amendment to relieve the executive manager— now called Director-General as in the CAME-U.S. draft, and presumably to be a person speaking English—from the necessity of submitting his higher secretariat appointments for approval by an Executive Board that would be "com­ posed of non-political personalities" who "might exercise an undesirable influence" in such an "administrative matter." By a vote of 11 to 9, this U.S. amendment was turned back. In final form, the projected constitutional relationship be­ tween Director-General and Executive Board, and between each and the General Conference, left a good deal unex­ plained. With regard to the setting and applying of international standards, French conferees agreed to withdraw their pro-

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posal that governments, national commissions, and world associations would be subject to requests for reports upon activities within the organization's competence. United States delegates devoted care to the forging of constitutional anchors of domestic jurisdiction with which to counteract the billowing sails raised by uncertain winds from domestic and foreign quarters, notwithstanding the fitful enthusiasm for international reporting on education by at least one American spokesman during wartime deliberations in CAME. Most London constituents showed little ardor either for setting general standards or for reviewing their imple­ mentation; by simple resolution, future evolution was be­ queathed to Conference judgment "according to circum­ stances."2 Government preferences for an organization site underlay questions more visibly connected to other matters. Confer­ ence participants favored budgetary coordination with other UN organizational units, yet they also wanted their agency to "enjoy a large measure of autonomy." British represen­ tatives argued for delay of a final decision on location in order to keep alive the possibility that all United Nations facilities might be established in one central place. This, it was contended, would increase the economy and efficiency of the whole; no doubt it would also decrease the chances of placing the new organization in Paris. Henri Bonnet of France intervened to prevent Jean Piaget, director of the Bureau d'education international of Geneva, from address­ ing delegates. BIE was an international association rather than a nation-state, Bonnet stated somewhat ironically, and 2 On standard-setting and other types of policy processes, see the author's "Policy Processes and International Organisation Tasks," in Robert W. Cox, ed., The Politics of International Organization (New York: Praeger, 1970), pp. 98-112. Concerning domestic jurisdiction, cf. Walter Kotschnig, "Education, Science, and Culture," in Rob­ ert E. Asher, et al., The United Nations and Promotion of the Gen­ eral Welfare (Washington, 1957), n. 5, p. 553.

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neutral Switzerland had not been invited to join London constituents. In the choice of a city as seat of the new or­ ganization, the delegates gave no serious attention to the credentials of Geneva.3 Leon Blum spoke out for France as a home ground for the planned organization: We do not claim . . . the privilege of a pre-existing state of affairs or anything in the nature of an acquired right. . . . France's claims are older than those of other na­ tions; their lustre is no greater. If we did possess one advantage, it would be ... that French culture has always been marked by a tendency towards universality. . . . Paris then remains one of the cities in the world where the future Organisation would find a natural seat. We crave this honour, we ask it of you, because it would be infinitely dear to us, because we feel ourselves not un­ worthy of it, and because we shall endeavour by all the means in our power to prove that it has been well de­ served. With the increasing likelihood of Paris as a site for the organization, the French delegation stepped down from its insistence upon an organic secretariat role for IICI. They hoped merely that the emergent organization would utilize "the contacts, the experience and the documentation" of the Institut. The location conditionally decided upon would, as a French speaker said, enable IICI's existing elements "to dissolve and merge" with its Paris successor "like snow in a great river." The organization s proper name remained for decision in London. While the French observed that their single word intellectuelle encompassed both cultural and educational realms, American and British representatives too could note that their proposed English-language designation included pertinent adjectives. If intellectuelle similarly embraced sci3 Krill de Capello, p. 26, citing Conference for the Establishment . . . , p. 56.

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ence, there was a corresponding Anglo-American solution. But the formal addition of this last adjective resulted also from further circumstances. In Washington, Joseph Needham and other scientists were consulted in February 1945 about the suitability of Needham's Science Co-operation Service as a part of the emerging United Nations organization. Needham said yes— if science were given titular recognition. His April 1945 memorandum prescribed the acronym "UNESCO," and thereafter "UNESCO" entered some internal Department of State papers. Needham sought the support of the Chinese and of the British Royal Society for his suggestion. In Jtine he circulated his latest memorandum to scientific colleagues from several other countries en route to mark the 220th an­ niversary of the Moscow Academy of Sciences. In the mean­ time, Julian Huxley and both French and American partici­ pants of the Society for Visiting Scientists pressed forward in London. Needham contemplated free-floating scientific missionaries; Huxley envisaged scientists with their own autonomous international organization, bearing an open mandate to monitor politicians the world over. Quite pos­ sibly national officials harkened to these ideas and consid­ ered structures for containing them. In August, America at war unleashed upon Japan the atom bomb, awesome invention of scientists. A month later Dean Acheson instructed U.S. planners that the "role of scientists, scientific collaboration and interchange of scien­ tific knowledge should be emphasized and made explicit." In slightly modified form his directive was written into the London working committee's preparatory documentation. British Minister of Education Ellen Wilkinson now heeded the call of scientists for a place in the organizational title, evidently offering her commitment during a 24 October meeting with Sir Henry Dale and Julian Huxley. On 1 No­ vember she announced that her delegation would suggest an appropriate addition to the organization s name. "In these days, when we are all wondering, perhaps apprehen-

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sively, what the scientists will do to us next, it is important that they should be linked closely with the humanities and should feel that they have a responsibility to mankind for the result of their labours." The "S" was soon proposed by American delegates and supported readily by most others.4 What purpose, among the infinite number of purposes conceivable to guide the difficult choices of an international organization, should this particular agency be given? War­ time allies were inclined to believe above all that their ef­ forts should realize global security. Preventing war, main­ taining or preserving peace—obviously these desires had stirred Allied Ministers of Education in besieged London, just as they animated conferees gathered in San Francisco and other unoccupied parts of England and America where United Nations' agencies were being formed or reformed from League of Nations vestiges. Fulbright, for instance, had remarked during his 1944 mission to CAME that international efforts in education could "do more in the long run for peace than any number of trade treaties."5 4Needham, "The Place of Science . . . ," p. 7; Needham, "Science and International Relations," pp. 20-21; Camery, pp. 237-38, n. 73 on p. 293, 303; Science Commission, meeting 20, 15 May 1945, p. 5; "A United Nations Educational and Cultural Organisation," Na­ ture, 156 (10 November 1945), especially contributions from Huxley and Needham, pp. 553-56, 558-61; FRUS, 1945, I, p. 1515; ECO/ CWC/13, 8 October 1945, p. 1; ECO/CWC/16, 17 October 1945, pp. 1-2; Ritchie Calder, "Science and World Government," New Statesman and Nation, 30 (3 November 1945), p. 294; Maxwell Garnett, "UNESCO," Yearbook of World Affairs, 1947, 1 (London, 1947), p. 211; FRUS, 1945, i, p. 1926; Sidney Hyman, The Lives of William Benton (Chicago, 1969), p. 337. 5 "Plans for a Cultural U.N.R.R.A.," The Observer, 9 April 1944. To the query of a Daily Express reporter a few days later the Rhodes Scholar, former president of the University of Arkansas, and authorto-be of a measure to animate international exchanges, said: "I know people think of education as a dull subject. It's got no glamour—on the surface, at any rate. We could all do with more of it. . . . The world in 2,000 years has found no way to prevent wars. I believe the real solution is education of the people. Let there be understanding between the nations of each other and each other's problems, and

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Archibald MacLeish gave such desires a personal flavor in addressing his fellow London constituents. "Until the choice to live together is the choice of the minds and hearts of men, the alternative of life will not truly have been chosen." After Prime Minister Clement Attlee in turn asked whether wars do not begin in the minds of men, MacLeish further adapted this question for the preamble to their organiza­ tion's constitution. In November 1945, these words must have sounded like an eloquent call to collective intergovern­ mental action; with successive events and national choices, they read more like justification for governmental inaction on grounds of the sanctity of private conscience. Among purposes and functions in Article I, only peace and security achieved the paramount status implied by founders' singu­ lar construction of "purpose." But other purposes realized less pretentious expression. Partisans of IICI had agreed during CAME sessions that the diffusion of existing knowledge was desirable as an or­ ganizational function. But they contended also that the cultivation of knowledge should become a chief concern of organized international relations in the postwar world. This latter predilection appeared in the letter transmitting France's draft project. Here the French cautioned co-found­ ers that unless both these functions were explicitly acknowl­ edged, one might be sacrificed to the other. The increase or advancement of knowledge gained a platform in Article I that would prove adequate for future program develop­ ments by interested participants. "Common welfare of mankind" attained notation in the preamble to stated governmental commitments. On 23 April 1945 C. Muller of Belgium had proposed successfully that CAME drafters add to the revised U.S. text an endorsethe causes of quarrels disappear. We have machinery to feed Emope after the war, rehabilitate it, rebuild it, set up new economic ar­ rangements. Why leave education out?" The Congressman allowed that he might have "a good run" for a Senate seat when he got home. "End All Wars By Education," 13 April 1944.

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ment of "the advancement of human welfare." Other CAME versions accorded "the welfare of the peoples of the world" coordinate position with "international security and peace." In his London welcoming address, Attlee referred to an "obvious difficulty that we all have to face—the education of backward races." His allusion might have been con­ strued (aside from its lead into the speaker's predisposi­ tions) as further support for a welfare mandate. Dr. Jaime Torres Bodet, Mexican Minister of Education, asked with­ out immediate response whether the wealthier and techni­ cally better equipped nations and their leaders would help others raise the educational level among peoples generally. Common welfare was relegated to subordinate formal status, but it was not entirely obscured as justification for or­ ganizational undertakings. The constitution allowed considerable room for imagina­ tion on how purpose and functions might be fulfilled. To what extent, in particular, should the new intergovern­ mental agency be made directly operational? One early challenge suggested a clear response by participants: re­ garding the reconstruction and rehabilitation of devastated countries, founders denied an immediate need. It was a choice registered though not reached at the London confer­ ence. In February 1941, Sir Frederick Leith Ross had sug­ gested to a receptive Dean Acheson that "relief of destitute areas" might "appropriately be handled by private chari­ table organisations." Transnational philanthropy was a rem­ edy the Americans had tried before. Problems which could not be solved voluntarily might to a limited extent be dealt with by governments of the more fortunate among wartime allies, that is by the United States and Britain. Acheson applied to the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Ad­ ministration (UNRRA) what he called a "Jeffersonian prin­ ciple," that of "doing the least which is necessary to accom­ plish the result." Presumably this result spoke for itself; multilateral discussion only befuddled it by fostering con­ troversy. The Russians were in Acheson s view the worst but

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by no means the only offenders. One way to cope with in­ ternational obduracy was to go through bilateral channels. "Relief, we said with righteous fervor, must be kept free from politics." Consistent though this procedure seemed with given premises, the premises themselves proved faulty. Acheson would later acknowledge underestimating various effects of the war upon Europeans.6 Similar observations might have been made with regard to the impact of the war upon non-European peoples. In the meantime, the stunting of UNRRA prevented a flow not only of assistance but also of useful intelligence, albeit of political nature, from CAME supplicants to governments engaged in organizing the post­ war world. What was forbidden to UNRRA was forbidden with a vengeance to UNESCO. London conferees authorized only a Technical Subcommittee on Educational Reconstruction to serve as a temporary clearing house connecting the needy with private benefactors. The U.S. delegation opposed even a broadly based proposal to ask governments of the United Nations if they would act on their own to spur UNRRA support for educational reconstruction. In some quarters this initial decision to stymie operational activities was justi­ fied by an assertion that UNESCO had been promoted in status from a temporary conduit for reconstruction and re­ habilitation funding to a permanent organization for peace and security. But Howard E. Wilson, an American serving as second-in-command of the embryonic organizations staff, later concluded that "long-range enterprises of eAcheson, Present at the Creation (New York, 1969), pp. 64-72, 76-79, 230-31; AME/A/53, p. 1; AME/A/85, p. 1; AME/A/143. The CAME agenda for meeting 20, 3 October 1945, expresses "seri­ ous concern over the slow progress of educational reconstruction in the liberated countries" and warns of likely adverse public opinion and "invidious comparisons" with the occupying enemy if more were not done. Cf. FRUS, 1945, i, pp. 1528-29. For MacLeish's somewhat non-JefFersonian views on reconstruction see The Defenses of Peace, U.S. Department of State Pub. 2457 (Washington, 1946), pp. 7-8.

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UNESCO were impossible . . . except as immediate needs in devastated and underprivileged areas of the world were met."7 To the extent these needs would remain unmet, the foundations of organized ineffectiveness had been laid at the outset. Poland's Bernard Drzewieski said in London that al­ though he "felt lonely and rather miserable" in abstaining from support of fellow constituents' motions, this was his way of recalling a rejected Polish amendment to provide "without delay for immediate action on urgent needs." 'Tou can ask the Poles, the Yugoslavs, or the Greeks," he con­ tinued, "and they will all tell you the same terrible story. Their present plight is the consequence of their struggle and their resistance. You have to help us today, immediate­ ly, presently, without any delay." Nonetheless, Poland— "who fought all the battles of all nations for freedom"— would sign the constitution. "We shall take part in the work of the Preparatory Commission, but if, as time goes on, we see that the Preparatory Commission is more a Research Institute or debating club than a Relief Organisation, we shall have to revise our attitude towards it." Archibald MacLeish replied reassuringly to Dr. Drzewieski: "this is not the end of a Conference. This moment is the beginning of our work." UNESCO, as MacLeish said elsewhere, was in charter form rather like a kite lying upon the ground. Action now was necessary to set it in motion. His simile implied sure hands at the controls and a support­ ing current of singular direction, appropriate velocity, and extended duration. The interval between the London conference and the first General Conference was further to reveal participants' inclinations and shape the character of their nascent organ­ ization. Provisional work by a Preparatory Commission staff was left to the responsibility of representatives of signatory 7 "The Development of UNESCO," International Conciliation, 431 (May 1947), p. 298.

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states whose governments were willing to post interim dele­ gates in London. Government participants made decisions on housekeeping and homemaking; they tended to overlook program choices that claimed their lower priority. William Benton had offered an uncontested judgment: "The charter is good and provides an excellent framework but UNESCO will amount to very Httle . . . unless it is backed by men and by money. Perhaps the more important of the two is the men. If the men who go in as leaders are up to the oppor­ tunity, they will see to it that the money is forthcoming." Sir Alfred Zimmern presided over the intimate Prepara­ tory Commission company housed in a flat near Grosvenor Square. Earlier Zimmern had seemed destined for a life of scholarship in Greek history as a lecturer at New College and as author of The Greek Commonwealth. In time, how­ ever, organized international relations lured him. Between the wars he summered in Geneva and there taught a course mixing Greek history with masterly commentary on the League Assembly's tergiversations. The League of Nations and the Rule of Law followed in 1936. IICI's work drew his attention; he served for several years as second-in-command of the small Institut staff. He engaged in CAME, then con­ tinued this line of activity by guiding the preliminary work­ ing committee and leading the London conference staff as Secretary-General. These duties had befallen a man well prepared. Fortune blessed Alfred Zimmern with access to several cultures. Through his family's fresh remembrance of Frankfurt and— as Zimmem saw it—through his father's Jewish background, he maintained a familiarity with continental European af­ fairs that most of his English fellows did not. He was fluent in French, German, and ItaHan as only a person accustomed to their constant use can be. Moreover he commanded cer­ tain other skills useful in international affairs. Like his wife Lucie—herself the offspring of confluent cultures—he exer­ cised an almost mystical clairvoyance. According to Arnold J. Toynbee, who offers several illustrations, Zimmern "was

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endowed with some special psychic organ that served him like a seismometer or like a butterfly's antennae." He was an "ardent and skilful advocate" of the cause of better international understanding with "great personal charm, unfailing good nature and boundless enthusiasm."8 Upon occasion he could maneuver adroitly, as evidenced for in­ stance by his swift opposition in CAME to official endorse­ ment of the Darlington-Haldane-Huxley statement deriding racial superiority, and by a London conference riposte to pre-war IICI Director Henri Bonnet. And he, like Lady Zimmern, was ambitious. Now, as executive manager of the UNESCO Preparatory Commission at the age of 66, he seemed to pause upon the threshold of life's crowning glory. Quite possibly Zimmern's model was IICL At the begin­ ning of 1946 his staff numbered about twelve. He envisaged a permanent secretariat of between fifty and sixty people. Apparently Sir Alfred pictured a select staff sufficiently in­ sulated from intergovernmental friction to think and act on behalf of an ethereal universalism. He brought this image into the Preparatory Commission quite as unquestioningly as the Commission had approved him as its Executive Sec­ retary. Few perhaps opposed his ascendance to the coming post of UNESCO Director-General. But Zimmern fell grave­ ly ill, and some of his closest colleagues despaired of his life. British Minister of Education Ellen Wilkinson turned for advice to her new Permanent Secretary, John Maud. With this problem in mind, Maud met Julian Huxley quite by accident (as Huxley later recalled) and immediately recognized him as the man to take Zimmern's place as Ex­ ecutive Secretary. Wilkinson then recommended Huxley's appointment to an ad hoc committee of five vice-presidents of the Preparatory Commission. No serious opposition de­ veloped to this appointment of a second Englishman. Hux­ ley at first disclaimed interest, then responded to the call 8 Arnold J. Toynbee, Acquaintances (London: Oxford University Press, 1967), pp. 49-61; Cowell, pp. 229-30. Toynbee, CoweII, and Julian Huxley were Zimmern's associates in the Athenaeum Club.

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and to the possibilities it offered. An awkward situation arose when after undergoing a successful operation Zimmern returned unexpectedly soon. The Executive Commit­ tee appointed him to an office that it named Adviser and dispatched him on a special mission from which he returned only when the inaugural General Conference met. Julian Sorell Huxley was the grandson of Thomas H. and Henrietta Heathorn Huxley, son of Julia Arnold and Leon­ ard Huxley, elder brother of Trevenen, Aldous, and Mar­ garet. Scientific zeal and attainment adorned each genera­ tion from grandfather onward; the arts likewise marked the family. Julian's grandmother, Australian by origin, wrote poetry; his mother, a niece of Matthew and "as confident of the Arnold blood as Leonard of the Huxley," originated Prior's Field, a school whose pupils participated actively in dramatic and other arts; Juhan and his siblings created their own literary and scientific games. A family biographer writes that although each Huxley personality revealed its uniqueness, "most bore the family imprint, being physically tall, spare, and slightly avian in appearance; mentally vig­ orous, mercurial, independent and, at their best, merciless in their devotion to truth."9 Julian early demonstrated his individuality. Of his fouryear-old grandson Τ. H. remarked "I like that chap. I like the way he looks you straight in the face and disobeys you." A teacher at Eton later found the tendency, in its context of admirable traits, more fully developed: "His one failing is an invariable belief in his own infallibility." Perhaps there was a touch of autobiography in his first major scientific publication, The Individual in the Animal Kingdom,. The ever-present awareness of the Huxley name and his mother's expectations—"nothing but the best would be tolerated"— combined with superior educational preparation to engen­ der Julian's public-spiritedness. A noble concern is revealed 9 Ronald

W. Clark, The Huxleys (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968), from which the following section borrows.

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in his successful entry to competition for the Brackenbury Scholarship in Science to Balliol College. Huxley responded thus to the question "What I would do if I had a million pounds to spend": purchase expanses of British coastline and preserve all from wrongful development. "Holyrood," his Newdigate prize poem of 1908, affords another glimpse of architectonic reveries: . . . useful too to dream Visions of beauty for mankind—to see The Present's place in the Eternal scheme, And point which way to turn Life's undeciding stream. . . . Other experiences contributed to tendencies some would see as those of an aspiring demiurge and others those of an intellectual omnivore. En route to his doctorate, Julian won a scholarship to the international zoological station in Naples. A series of academic appointments in biology fol­ lowed at Rice Institute and at various British institutions. In 1919 he married Juliette Baillot of Neuchatel. During the 1930s and into the war years he served as secretary of the London Zoological Society. This period brought If I Were Dictator: A Plan for Social and Economic Reform in Great Britain, among other writings. As BBC broadcaster

he proved a sprightly wartime debunker of Hitler's racism, and he served as an original member of the BBC Brains Trust. Political and Economic Planning (PEP) provided him with opportunities to prognosticate postwar needs. He was not inclined to treat these incrementally. Relief and reconstruction, he said, demanded a synoptic vision, to achieve "the most complete picture of the background of our situation. Without this we shall be in danger of getting into a mess through dealing with the problems piecemeal." By 1946 he had undertaken two official field trips on educa­ tion in the colonies (to British East Africa in 1929, to Brit­ ish West Africa in 1944); discoursed on subjects whose

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diversity is only hinted by his publications on ethics, Soviet science, nationalism, and the Tennessee Valley Authority; produced a film entitled "The Life of the Gannets"; and volunteered his ideas on domestic programs to the British Committee on National Parks. At the time of his appointment to head the Preparatory Commission, Huxley was a vigorous 58 years old. He had not served on the smallish British delegation to the London constituents' conference, or on the conference staff, although he had followed UNESCO's evolution and intervened occa­ sionally during CAME. Nor did he claim familiarity with the interwar work either of IICI or of BIE beyond recog­ nizing that they propounded "the general idea of Interna­ tional Co-operation," as he later said. Despite his limited contact with organized internationalism, Huxley was aware of what might be attempted. Staffing posed a most pressing problem. At this time many actors shared the expectation of a unified United Na­ tions organization under central direction. UN SecretaryGeneral Trygve Lie sought to have various United Nations personnel rosters as nearly filled as possible before he faced his inaugural session of the General Assembly. "I appointed some 2,900 staff members in the course of 1946," he later reported, "predominantly from areas of the world where available persons could be found. It should be added that a high proportion of these temporary appointees fully proved their worth and later joined the career service."10 Lie en­ couraged decisive action in London. But Huxley needed little encouragement, and engaged those whom he found congenial and willing. Governments carried the responsibility for oversight of staff hiring. Early secretariat initiates included national of­ ficials who had accompanied the Allied Ministers of Educa­ tion to London, among them experts in allied psychological 10 Quoted by Tavares de Sa, The Play Within the Play (New York: Knopf, 1966), p. 93.

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warfare. A few individuals continued their wartime efforts to undercut mankind's anachronistic institution, the nationstate. Children of bilingual parentage often were tempted by posts in this and other intergovernmental organizations. Some recruits were American ex-servicemen who had mar­ ried while overseas; known circumstances made this imme­ diate option seem preferable to the vagaries of employment and adjustment back home. Huxley, no political radical by local standards of his day, shared friendships with individ­ uals in the left and other portions of the Labour Party. He knew more people in other spheres of life; furthermore, he made new acquaintances readily, and some of these joined him during the formative phase. In the early summer of 1946, a staff of 130 occupied two Victorian houses in Belgrave Square; in September, 225 people moved to the H6tel Majestic in Paris. Here former IIGI staff associates mingled their Institut experience in the broadening stream. The Preparatory Commission period was a time of cre­ ativity and camaraderie. Huxley infected others with his ebullience, bringing to the Hotel Majestic the spirit and not a few practices of the university common room. Here Stephen Spender and other fraternal staff members formu­ lated the organization's acronym as "Unesco," a rendition deemed authoritative and used thereafter within the organ­ ization, though by no means employed universally. "Unesconian" achieved modest currency as an appellation for individuals committed to the preparatory work. Huxley "gave life to Unesco," remembers a close associate. Staff colleagues put to a pilot test what Huxley, during this period, called the "vision of world society as an organic whole" within which rights and duties would be balanced deliberately "as they are among the cells of the body." In the Unesco House cafeteria, professionals and secretaries paid graduated prices for the same food in accordance with Huxley's preachment that economic values "must yield in importance to social values." His conviviality personalized

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another Huxleyism: "By working together, we must lay a conscious basis for a new world order, the next step in our human evolution."11 Huxley's basis allowed for an organism that might be­ come "whole" yet at close range appeared quite cellular. Even before his appointment he had exposed a predilection toward specialization within the secretariat: Most men of science are agreed that it is essential that a separate and relatively autonomous division devoted to the sciences and their application should be set up with­ in the Organisation. There would presumably be other equivalent divisions dealing with education . . . culture ... and possibly the "General Dissemination of Ideas...." Each division should then have its own share of the gen­ eral budget, and its own representation on the Council or other executive body of the entire Organisation. Such a council . . . would consider questions of general policy and the co-ordination of work between the separate di­ visions; but most of the actual work would be carried out by the separate divisions. In practice Huxley's managerial bent led to staif units de­ scribed variously as self-determining departments or as fiefdoms. Some secretariat members acted upon their image of "the European university, with each senior scholar a king in his domain, and with no control or 'coordination' by the 'administration.' "12 Few expected a sizable staff. An American State Depart­ ment official informed his university audience early in 1947 11 J. B. Priestley, "The Unesconians at Work," Daily Herald, 27 November 1946; Laura Vitray, "UNESCO: Adventure in Under­ standing," Free World, 12 (November 1946), p. 24; Stephen Spender, "Impressions of the First General Conference," Britain To-Day, No. 131 (March 1947), pp. 14-18; Spender, "United Nations: Cultural Division," Commentary, 3 (April 1947), pp. 336-40. 12 Huxley, "Science and the United Nations," Nature, 156 (10 November 1945), pp. 553-56; Ascher, p. 4.

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that the secretariat would hardly equal the size of a small college's faculty. The secretariat's own progress report of 26 March 1947 stated that the Unesco staff would never be large because the logic of circumstance was "to get others to act, to get others to do the work." Yet by the end of 1947 the secretariat numbered almost six hundred people. Hux­ ley said that he felt "the same mixture of surprise, pride and alarm over the astonishing growth of my charge, as did the parents of the giant children in H. G. Wells' 'Food of the Gods'." His ^entiment seemed to rest more in pride and perhaps surprise than in alarm when he concluded that "Unesco cannot avoid being large." The same report which earlier had forsworn a large staff contained one clue to this unexpected development: "Our direction has been deter­ mined in the program."13 For the most part, founders accommodated each others intended organizational activities in the manner of their accommodation of the different organizational purposes. By successive initiatives, participants testified in effect to a con­ viction that their organization should not concentrate too narrowly its scope of action. Holdover CAME commission­ ers joined with Preparatory Commission planners to "indi­ cate activities which . . . should be continued." New pro­ gram proposals were generated within congenial forums constituted by "small committees of experts in the various branches" of knowledge and action. Members of the secre­ tariat coalesced portentously into alliances with sundry pro­ fessional interests. Nongovernmental individuals, then, actively promoted the expansion of organizational tasks.14 Yet governments, too, contributed significantly to this de­ velopment. 13 Unesco Preparatory Commission, Report on the Programme of [Unesco] (Paris: Unesco, September 1946); "Progress Report Pre­ pared by UNESCO Secretariat, Paris, March 26, 1947," International Conciliation, 431 (May 1947), p. 322; Wilson, pp. 295-96. "Cf. ECO/Conf./Com.i/11; ECO/Conf./Com.n/6; ECO/Conf./ Com.iv/1; ECO/Conf./9; ECO/Conf./Exec.Com./8; ECO/Conf./15; ECO/Conf./17.

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Some official initiatives expanded tasks quite directly. United States representatives William Benton and Archi­ bald MacLeish, for instance, raised communications to a position beside education, culture, and science at the Lon­ don conference. Governments contributed more passively to the growth of program breadth by forgoing steadfast atten­ tion to crucial policy determinations during their organiza­ tion's most impressionable stages. The stance of govern­ ments was one of passive citizenship more than active participation. Howard Wilson described education, within Unesco's purview, as a "basically significant field" addressing "the whole of the person through the whole of his life," without restriction "to classrooms, to books, to schools, central and important as these are."15 Such comprehensiveness covered substantial diversity of interests among participants. Many proposals by educationalists revived pre-war ante­ cedents. Universities' involvement in United Nations educa­ tional programs remained extremely limited after the Lon­ don conference rejected a request by the International Association of University Professors and Lecturers for ex­ plicit constitutional assurance that one or more national delegation members would be chosen either in agreement with or by the universities. Jaramillo Arango of Colombia and others conversant with IICI also failed at this point to in­ stitute a university of the United Nations. Adult education, on the other hand, received London endorsement, at least to the extent of a U.S. resolution proposing "enlightenment of the citizens of the world."16 Common international under­ standing justified efforts—carrying forward more limited 15 "Education and UNESCO" (London: Oxford University Press, 1946), pp. 11, 13. 16 "The Re-Education of the World," Christian Science Monitor, Weekly Magazine Section, 31 March 1945, p. 2; Thompson, p. 311; ECO/Conf./13.

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experimentation before the war and during CAME—to improve textbooks and teaching materials in geography, history, civics, and other subjects. A proposed teachers' charter owed something to prior initiatives of the Bureau international deducation and to its individual forebears; it also drew analogies with the rights of creative artists cham­ pioned through IICI, and with standards set and applied for other workers through the International Labor Organiza­ tion. Clarence E. Beeby was tapped as Unesco's first Assistant Director-General for Education. Beeby had gained renown as an educational innovator while directing the New Edu­ cation Fellowship before recruitment by his Labour gov­ ernment as Director-General of the New Zealand Ministry of Education. In his Unesco post, he exhibited an impres­ sive ability to deal with the representatives of various gov­ ernments. Some men preached the gospel of letting others do what they had resolved in intergovernmental forums; some, out of necessity, acquiesced in this practice. Beeby suggested administrative manageability as a criterion for selecting projects that ought then to receive adequate finan­ cial support through the organization. "The limiting fac­ tors," he said, should be only "the energy, the time and the mental grasp of the Director-General and his half-dozen closest colleagues in unifying our programs into one pro­ gram."17 Under Beeby's direction, Unesco dispatched consultative educational missions to polities requesting them. Visiting multinational teams were subject to approval by the host government, which paid their upkeep while they were on site. Unesco missionaries prepared a report after their field investigation. The Philippines and Afghanistan were among early educational systems studied by visiting consultants. Beeby and others soon recognized that these missions alone could do Httle more than reveal the magnitude of stubborn 17

Quoted by Ascher, n. 24, p. 33.

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actuality.18 The Director-General's annual report for 1949 offered a pertinent assessment and a challenge of sorts for Unesco participant governments: "to get full value from this kind of project, Unesco must be prepared to follow up any mission by sending experts for a longer period to assist local authorities to carry out such parts of the mission's re­ port as they decide to adopt." Fundamental education pro­ grams among low-income peoples offered an acid test, both before and after Beeby's Unesco tenure, of the adequacy of his argument concerning organizational effectiveness. Men of science were at the outset better organized inter­ nationally than were educationalists or others. The postwar atmosphere for science was propitious. And in Joseph Needham, whom Huxley brought to the Preparatory Commis­ sion and retained as first head of natural sciences in Unesco, scientists had an exceptionally able and dedicated activist. Needham had observed the inadequacy of financial and staff support for work by the International Council of Sci­ entific Unions (ICSU) well before he undertook his war­ time mission in China. He had never heard of the lnstitut international de cooperation intellectuelle (IICI) in Cam­ bridge during the twenties and early thirties. When later Needham did learn of its activities he was determined to see that postwar international scientific organization avoided IICI's tendency toward "mandarinism," toward aims "too vague, academic and contemplative," toward affiliation with universities alone rather than governmental and industrial institutions. He admired the way Americans had come to refer casually to their American Association for the Ad­ vancement of Science as the "Triple A, S" and hoped that the intergovernmental organization that he had named in early 1945 would achieve comparable international familiar­ ity among scientists. 18

Beeby, "The Educational Mission," Times Educational Supple­ ment, 1761 (29 January 1949), p. 68.

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Needham brought to the Preparatory Commission an active curiosity. At Unesco he was described by one col­ league as a man of "dynamic energy" and "single-minded devotion to the advancement of international collaboration in the natural sciences." His persuasive presentations of budget estimates netted the natural sciences a major portion of the available resources.19 In a prototypical act, the founders of Unesco had ex­ tended financial support to a nongovernmental organiza­ tion—the International Council of Scientific Unions. An ICSU liaison office at Unesco offered means for maintaining close interpersonal contacts and for concerting interorganizational efforts. From his own and others' wartime experi­ ence with national science liaison offices, Needham adapted the field science co-operation offices proposed earlier in his promotional memoranda. These were meant "to give aid and assistance to scientists and technologists in all places isolated from the main centres of science and technology; to give help with literature or specimens, to put them in contact with colleagues whom they want to know, to ob­ serve what they are doing and make it better known, etc., etc." By early 1949, field science co-operation offices were active in Shanghai, Cairo, Montevideo, and New Delhi. Expert panels met in 1947 under Unesco auspices to confirm interests in popularizing science and in studying its social implications. Needham grouped still other Unesco activities beneath the designation of "world liaison centre for sci­ ence"—"a hat," he said, "which covers a number of activities . . . in the applied sciences."20 Some Unesco scientific activities fit none of these cate­ gories. A UN Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) resolution asked the Paris organization to study the possi19 Ascher, p. 27, reports that the 1948 draft budget allotted over three times as much of the meager Unesco estimate to natural sci­ ences as that sought for fundamental education. See also n. 7, p. 41. 20 "Science and International Relations," especially pp. 25, 26.

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bility of creating new international laboratories; Needham's crew did so with alacrity. Several such laboratories would eventuate, including CERN, the Centre for European Nu­ clear Research. Its fruition was several years distant. A Hylean Amazon basin scheme awaited the first Unesco General Conference. Cultural activities more than either education or science enjoyed a pre-war tradition of international cultivation. Jean Thomas was Unesco's first Assistant Director-General. Thomas taught French literature at Poitiers, Lyon, and the Sorbonne before serving as an infantry lieutenant and leader of the Resistance. He brought broad perspectives and gentle reflexes to his peacetime duties. "Every people has its pe­ culiar contribution to make to the culture of the world," he stated in 1946 and reiterated in substance long after he left Unesco. From the beginning, Thomas regretted the absence of various cultures, including those of Italy and Germany. He spoke English with ease and grace, and his patience seemed to fail only when unidiomatic official use of the French language was threatened. Unesco's aim appeared to him primarily one of smoothing the way for interchange: its "first role," he said, "is to become the world's switch­ board. Its second is that of facilitating collaboration in the sciences and arts."2X Thomas oversaw a vast program, including arts and let­ ters, philosophy and humanistic studies, museums and li­ braries. Into his realm in the main passed the continuing tasks no less than the library and archives of IICL Illus­ trative of early Unesco cultural undertakings were the con­ version of wartime concern for preserving monuments to a peacetime interest in the same; the resumption of IICI's Index Translationum of international trends; the promotion of nongovernmental organizations and transnational insti­ tutes such as the International Council of Museums, the In21 This

and succeeding paragraphs rely on Vitray, pp. 23-28.

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ternational Music Institute, and the International Theatre Institute; and the instigation of studies on theoretical bases for human rights. When Americans spoke of peace, mass communications were seldom far from mind. At the London conference a U.S. resolution acclaimed the "paramount importance" of the press, radio, and cinema in spreading the knowledge and common understanding necessary for international se­ curity. Archibald MacLeish asked for means "by which the peoples of the world may speak" to each other "and an­ swer." Ann O'Hare McCormick projected "a frontierless world of the mind." Howard Wilson held that "wars are most likely to arise out of economic inequalities when some one faction has control of the centers of communication." Esther Brunauer, heading the U.S. official delegation at the Preparatory Commission, stated that the "moving spirit" behind Unesco was "the determination of peoples through­ out the world to establish truth as a guide to public action. . . . The peoples of the world don't always know the truth, but the common search for it . . . and the determination to live by it will save the world." These early affirmations seemed to promise practical ac­ cess to media by diverse spokesmen and to assure that their respective views would be heard. As other Americans de­ fined it, however, the problem was one more of dissemina­ tion than of discovery. William Benton, for instance, coun­ seled Unesco investigation of how fundamental education could be implemented by radio and films. Later, in the U.S. Senate, he would propose a "Marshall Plan for Ideas" to "close the mental gap between ourselves and the rest of the world." And Lloyd Free, who headed the communications section of the Preparatory Commission staff while continu­ ing his responsibilities at home with the Foreign Broadcast Monitoring Service of the Federal Communications Com­ mission, insisted upon aiding the development of conditions

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for a "free flow of communications into areas that are less industrialized, where people are less likely to have radios or to receive news." Free and other Americans advocated serious study of a worldwide Unesco radio network. An international com­ mittee turned down immediate establishment of this under­ taking, though U.S. partisans continued to press such possi­ bilities both inside the organization and outside it on behalf of more openly unilateral instrumentalities.22 The London conference resolution on communications also had sanc­ tioned a more mundane related aim: Unesco cooperation with media agencies "in their private aims and efforts." Unesco participants mounted a survey of existing instru­ mentalities and communications needs. International com­ merce in radio receiving sets was additionally encouraged by a plurality of official delegates who voted upon an ap­ propriate resolution in Geneva during 1948 at the United Nations Conference on Freedom of Information. The early Unesco communications agenda reflected both confluence and friction among British and United States official intentions. Anglo-American preferences appeared to intersect neatly upon such items as investigation of the try­ ing uncertainties of copyright law, study of possibilities for reducing costs and extending services to press and radio, 22 In 1946 the United States National Commission for Unesco, speak­ ing in the person of William Benton, held that this intergovernmental organization warranted a budget of up to $1,500,000,000 so that it might "serve as the cutting edge for international action." A world­ wide radio communication system, which RCA head David Sarnoif estimated would cost $250,000,000, was only one of the projects en­ visaged. "U.S. Group Backing Huge UNESCO Plan," New York Times, 30 September 1946; Frank Kelly, "World Radio Network for U.N. Is Urged," New York Herald Tribune, 30 September 1946; Volney D. Hurd, "American Delegation Backs Radio Network for UNESCO," Christian Science Monitor, 20 November 1946, wherein MacLeish reportedly foresaw a budget of up to $2,000,000,000 an­ nually; "A l'hotel Majestic dix-huit nations etudient un projet de reseau radiophonique mondial," Combat, S August 1947.

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training in international reporting for journalists, and a pro­ jected international press institute. Official spokesmen dis­ agreed smartly upon other matters. To some extent these were differences of personality and style; J. B. Priestley, Free's sometime antagonist, favored over American schemes the Wellsian notion of an "Ideas Bureau" to produce and inject Unesco's own ideas into the world's systems of mass media. But in large measure the Anglo-American disagree­ ments sprang from deeper sources. The Americans might have adduced multilateral IICI precedents for common ef­ forts in dismantling barriers—including British hindrances —to the freer flow of communications. Instead, when as­ saulting tariffs, quotas, censorship, and other commercial and communications hindrances, they acted in such a man­ ner as to remind British observers of a premier naval power asserting freedom of the seas. British representatives re­ sponded by mobilizing others, including Latin Americans, who would gather beneath the banner of cultural self-de­ termination. "The white light of universal enlightenment includes in its spectrum the colours of all the cultures of the world," said John Hardman, M.P.23 And Britain en­ gaged more directly in the control of communications pro­ gramming as British subjects entered critical secretariat posts. John Grierson, pioneer in the documentary film, was named to direct the organization's mass communications and public information divisions. William Farr, another early appointee, was destined to figure long as a sensitive judge of proposals thrust forward for Unesco approval. Social sciences began slowly by comparison with most other program segments. Early Unesco votaries fondly quoted a passage from the address prepared for delivery shortly before President Franklin D. Roosevelt's death: "Today, we must cultivate the science of human relation23 William P. Carney, "Priestley Assails Our Aim in UNESCO," New York Times, 14 November 1947.

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ships, the ability of all peoples of all kinds to live together and work together at peace." During the same period there was little continuity of secretariat personnel in the social sciences and only superficial agreement upon what ought to be attempted. Mahomed Bey Awad, from the schools of Egypt and the United Kingdom, directed staif work at the juncture when program was prepared for the first General Conference. He intended to establish the "facts of social science" so clearly that resurgence of Hitler-like "race theory rubbish" would be unable to move the common man. Awad also sought open discussion of such problems as social insurance, wages, and collective bargaining. These aims failed to receive others' encouragement, and Awad departed from secretariat duty. Edward Shils of the universities of London and Chi­ cago served briefly as Special Consultant; Hadley Cantril of Princeton and Otto Klineberg of Columbia associated themselves with Unesco for a time thereafter. Arturo Ramos de Araujo Pereira, Brazilian professor of sociology and folk­ lore, headed the department for a short time before his death in October 1949. Robert C. Angell, a sociologist from the University of Michigan, acted as head until 1950. Some saw an important role for the social sciences in Unesco. Robert MacIver of Scotland and Columbia Uni­ versity, for instance, suggested blending classic with revo­ lutionary aspects: the discovery of "a more inclusive order" within which "every unity, constituent or field, finds its re­ lation to all the rest, is given due place and proportion, and is seen in perspective within the total scheme of things." MacIver wanted a "common firmament" in which human values could be built and sustained. Unesco should "con­ spire with forces that make and move the world," hence with their intellectual interpreters. While denying that wars begin in the minds or perceptions of men, he maintained that broad understanding of others' cultures through com­ parative studies and less ethnocentric teaching at various

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levels would prevent inevitable differences in position from becoming "absolute."24 Others envisaged more modest gains. It was evident to some enterprising individuals that scholars should be in­ duced to organize internationally by professional fields, and thereby (in many instances) to organize nationally as well. Robert Redfield, anthropologist from the University of Chi­ cago, remarked that the social scientists from various dis­ ciplines and states who convened to discuss the program during the Preparatory Commission phase gave him an im­ pression of "sparring" while trying to feel out each other s orientations and tacks. "One of the lessons I learned very quickly," recalled Hadley Cantril, "was that the term 'social science' meant quite different things to the French, the British, and the Americans who had largely instigated the idea. . . . The French emphasis was on the legal approach, the British emphasis on an historical approach, and both groups had to be tactfully indoctrinated in the meaning of modern social science."25 Discussions among social scientists yielded proposals to study nationalism and internationalism, population pres­ sures, and social consequences of technological change. In the spirit of aggregating discrete projects as more visible tasks, early collaborators for Unesco social science were instructed to find what these distinctive topics had in com­ mon and to label them accordingly. Charles S. Johnson, the group's rapporteur, had for many years chaired the sociol­ ogy department at Fisk University. Shortly after his return to the United States he would become president of the Nashville institution. Johnson authored The Negro College Graduate, Growing Up in the Black Belt, Patterns of Negro 24 Robert M. Maclver, "Intellectual Cooperation in the Social Sci­ ences," American Philosophical Society, Proceedings, 90 (1946), pp. 309-13. 25 Karp, p. 95; Cantril, The Human Dimension (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1967), p. 125.

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Segregation, and Education and the Cultural Process. The title and subtitle of two recent writings contained the word tension. Thus began Unesco's encouragement of studies claiming to illuminate tensions—tensions leading to war or tensions affecting international understanding, as they were presently styled. In retrospect, the designation of "tensions" studies seems rather ironic even after we discount its fortuitous quality. The intergovernmental matrix of such investigations per­ haps assured that little controversy would arise from them. Studies of nationalism and internationalism were con­ tracted out, for instance to the International Studies Con­ ference, where a series of monographs on the "way of life" of various cultures then was subcontracted for authorship by local groups. Population problems were defined as those difficulties caused by migrating peoples. The avoidance of technological inconvenience Johnson illustrated with a ref­ erence to experts retained by the airplane industry "in order to prepare peoples for the growth of aviation."26 Social scientists and governmental participants skirted controversy by other means as well. Transnational associa­ tions in political science, economics, sociology, anthropol­ ogy, mental health, comparative law, and other professional fields were launched under the Unesco aegis and then left to their respective devices of consensus-seeking. Meetings of the International Federation for Housing and Town Planning and the International Union of Local Authorities at Unesco headquarters during 1947 marked the high point of Unesco's concern with another project, home and com­ munity planning. National representatives merely sanc­ tioned a census of existing international studies centers after taking note of Sir Afred Zimmern's study projecting the establishment of such a center near Unesco headquarters. Proposals to reform international studies, coordinate inter26 "UNESCO and the Social Sciences," in Lyman Bryson, et al., eds., Learning and World Peace (New York: Harper, 1948), p. 611.

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national student activities, and train an international civil service were gently laid to rest, quietly forgotten, or left for others acting on their own responsibility. However, ar­ rangements for compiling bibliographies of social science writings and unpublished theses were set in motion. Hadley Cantril justified a pattern of focusing upon effects rather than causes by noting that economic, technological, and political forces lay beyond Unesco's scope. Robert Angell credited this tendency to the participants' wish to avoid sensitive political matters. Looking at a state of mind within groups or nations obviated friction from investigating relations between these groups or nations. The Manchester Guardian editorialized that Unesco wished "to secure the Greatest Common Platitude." Undaunted by initial diffi­ culties in developing the science of human relationships, social scientists embarked upon a survey in anticipation of setting standards for the proper methodology of inquiry.27 The inaugural General Conference of Unesco in 1946 brought into sharper focus participants' preferences and formative choices on behalf of their organization's func­ tioning. At this first Paris plenary, delegates selected the initial Executive Board panelists. Here the first DirectorGeneral was determined. Policies affecting the formulation and implementation of Unesco program received further consideration. Such occasions offered signal manifestations of governments' engagements in fulfilling the commitments 27 Cantril, "The Human Sciences and World Peace," Public Opin­ ion Quarterly, 12 (Summer 1948), pp. 236fF.; M. H. Holcroft, Leb­ anon: Impressions of a Unesco Conference (Christchurch: Caxton, 1949), pp. 60-67. On the need for a constructively critical opposition within Unesco, cf. the Guardian judgments of 25 August and 14 September 1948. According to the latter, faults would not be righted unless participants "wake up and begin to treat Unesco not as a vague concourse of well-meaning intellectuals but as an international organ of great potential usefulness which must be prodded and encouraged and corrected as well as subsidized."

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into which some twenty of them had formally entered by late 1946 within their own capitals as well as more ritually a year earlier in London. CAME's executive bureau had been constituted by ex­ plicit understandings regarding those states to be repre­ sented "permanently" and those to rotate; the Preparatory Commission's executive committee, though subject to no comparable written rules, included places for official rep­ resentatives of the United States, the United Kingdom, France, and China, with another seat reserved for the nonparticipating Soviet Union. Unesco Executive Board pro­ visions instructed official participants to elect from among Conference delegates eighteen individuals who were dis­ tinguished by their prowess in the organization's substan­ tive fields, qualified by their experience and capacity to ful­ fill the Board's duties, and (as a group) balanced both geographically and culturally. No state could supply more than one of its nationals. Candidacies, which in their na­ tional singularity hinted at the screening of respective gov­ ernments, initially produced a notable Board. All the states awarded permanent membership upon the UN Security Council—or those four participating in Unesco—found their nominees elected. So, for that matter, did most of the other Unesco member governments formally engaging as the Conference opening approached.28 Choosing a Director-General presented greater difficul­ ties. In London the previous year, a predominantly AngloSaxon group had agreed, at the time of the decision to locate the organization's headquarters in Paris, to narrow the field of candidates for Director-General to those who spoke English. Nationals of the United Kingdom and the United States, among many individuals, thus might be deemed 28 "Guide to Unesco: List of Appointments," The Times, 7 De­ cember 1946, sums the Executive Board's personnel situation. "Philippines Defeated for UNESCO's Board," New York Times, 21 November 1947, suggests circumstantially the operation of a Latin American caucus for Board elections.

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available to the extent that they met other criteria. Of course the qualification was important. Not every English-speaking person knew about this challenge, and even if all had known, few among them would have come forward. More­ over, electors solicitous of Unesco's future increasingly sensed that a Director-General should combine the talents of a Leonardo da Vinci with the skills of an administrator par excellence. Good candidates, willing ones or not, would be hard to find. Following the London conference, William Benton had written Secretary of State James Byrnes to advise him upon this matter: The United States has asked for nothing thus far. The Preparatory Commission is located in London. The exec­ utive secretary is an Englishman. The headquarters of UNESCO are to be in Paris. It is generally understood that the United States Government can nominate the permanent secretary-general if it so desires. The choice of this man is crucial. I know you will agree with me that, unless we turn up with a candidate of stature and capacity, we do not want to press for an American in this role. I shall submit recommendations to you subsequently on this. Benton first sought out Henri Bonnet to ask whether it were "absolutely necessary" for his man to speak French. Bonnet was understood to reply that it was "not imperative; but it is essential." This limited Benton's search. After weighing several possibilities, Benton settled upon Francis Biddle. Biddle, product of a wealthy Philadelphia family and like Benton a staunch Democrat, had been ousted as U.S. Attorney General when Harry S. Truman assumed the presidency. He was now an American hero of the Nuremberg war crimes trials. Biddle appeared to meet the language qualifications, and his wife spoke French and maintained an active interest in art. Truman reportedly was enthusiastic; Biddle was interested. After briefing, the nom-

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inee went to Paris. There it became evident that he assumed that the post of Director-General was at his disposal. He solicited judgments about the competence of individual secretariat members from their Preparatory Commission colleagues. Meanwhile, official nominators compared Biddie's personal qualifications with specifications for the post of Director-General. Even certain American delegates wavered. Days passed and no decision was made. Archibald MacLeish was the "sentimental favorite," ac­ cording to one participant, but he put an end to this line of conjecture by stating that he wished to continue to write poetry. Benton unsuccessfully sought dark-horse candidates by telephone from Paris. At one point a small and specially commissioned group of negotiators evidently agreed upon Howard Wilson, American deputy executive secretary of the Preparatory Commission. However, this consensus was shattered by a press leak which led to the premature and, as it proved to the embarrassment of plenary delegates, fal­ lacious announcement of Wilson as the Conference's choice. Delegates then quickly decided to name Julian Huxley.29 U.S. officials worried about whether Huxley was willing to restrain the growing Unesco program and staff, and thus to hold down the costs of American engagement. Quite pos29 Some elements of the foregoing may be found in "Francis Biddle Is U.S. Choice To Head Unesco," New York Herald Tribune, 19 No­ vember 1946; Anne Perlman, "British Push Huxley for Top UNESCO Spot," New York Herald Tribune, Paris, 27 November 1946; Volney D. Hurd, " 'U.S. Candidate' For Director Hit," Christian Science Monitor, 27 November 1946; Sidney Keller, "Howard Wilson Is Dark Horse For Directorship of UNESCO," New York Herald Tribune, Paris, 3 December 1946; "Wilson Silent on Reports of UNESCO Job," New York Herald Tribune, Paris, 4 December 1946; "Discord on Director Worries UNESCO Aides," New York Times, 5 Decem­ ber 1946; "A l'U.N.E.S.C.O.: Avant 1'election du directeur gen­ eral," Le Monde, 6 December 1946; Perlman, "Huxley Named By UNESCO In a 22-3 Vote," New York Herald Tribune, Paris, 7 De­ cember 1946. However, the key evidence came from interviews and correspondence with participants directly involved.

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sibly some concerned themselves with how American pub­ lics would take to this man. Two conditions were attached to his nomination by the Executive Board on 6 December 1946: he must accept with the explicit understanding that in two years he would need to return to private life; and a Deputy Director-General would be appointed with respon­ sibility for administration, personnel, and finance. It was understood that this deputy would be an American. Huxley graciously accepted both conditions.80 Americans and others officially representing their nations found further reason for anxiety about Huxley with the ap­ pearance of his essay on the agency's "purpose and its philosophy." By this means Unesco's interim executive man­ ager sought to end the chaos of his Preparatory Commission and to provide a fledgling organization with that guidance which alone, in Huxley's eyes no less than in governmental participants', would enable it to avoid diffuse or contra­ dictory actions. Intellectually the essay remains a provoca­ tive synthesis. Politically it proved anathema to many. Gov­ ernments' agents denied it official Unesco status. The essay's content deserves scrutiny for the cues it offered par­ ticipants and for its intimations of Huxley's style as execu­ tive manager, especially his effect upon the expansion of Unesco tasks.81 Huxley called his approach "a scientific world humanism, global in extent and evolutionary in background." Its anthropocentrism shocked various kinds of theists, including pan­ theists. The essay's reference to dialectical materialism as a pioneering attempt at evolutionary philosophy displeased some; its rejection of dialectical materialism as passe be­ cause it had been "based too exclusively upon principles 30 Walter H. C. Laves was selected as first Unesco Deputy DirectorGeneral. See Ascher, pp. 10-11; Hurd, "Story Behind Huxley Hints Major Role for UNESCO Deputy," Christian Science Monitor, 12 December 1946. 31 It has appeared through the auspices of several publishers, e.g., UNESCO: Its Purpose and Its Philosophy (Washington: Public Af­ fairs Press, 1947).

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of social as against biological·evolution' upset others. Ref­ erences to population management and birth control, let alone to eugenics, alarmed still others. Today the essay's implied Biblical image of man as an all-seeing and benevo­ lent master over nature might be decried. Huxley's insist­ ence that Unesco rightly had aims other than peace and security irritated some governments. Perhaps the audacity of their administrative secretary in putting forward his per­ sonal views added to the annoyance of the same persons. National officials could hardly help being bothered by the essayist's concern with matters within their own preserves. Notwithstanding Huxley's passing reference to domestic jurisdiction, his prospectus advocated the setting and fol­ lowing of international standards for public levels of sci­ entific expenditure, for governmental public relations ('Iaut a new name for propaganda"), and for society's material cul­ ture and prevalent beliefs insofar as these "condition [so­ ciety's] educational and scientific and artistic achievements, or limit its future progress or the welfare of its inhabitants, or cause it to be in any way a danger to peace or security." The author's claim to a position for "seeing to it that power does not fall into the hands of those who should not possess it" might easily have angered any who actually saw them­ selves as Huxley's 'lovers of power for its own sake, the megalomaniacs, the over-ambitious careerists, the sadists, the insensitive coarse-fibred apostles of success at any price." Had they been aware of the essay's details, it would not have pleased anti-vivisectionists or peoples of sup­ posedly "less advanced cultures," either. Two interrelated themes shed light upon Huxley's exec­ utive management of Unesco. In the essay and elsewhere, Huxley expressed his belief that man's capacities depend upon "the social framework which conditions their use." Thus, to Huxley's thinking, the future evolution of man­ kind hinged upon innovations—planned or unplanned—in social organization. This belief he applied to what he saw as latent professional interests merely awaiting someone to

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point them toward transnational organization. To Huxley such a step seemed crucial to, and perhaps even sufficient for, the beneficent manipulation of human capacities. Non­ governmental organizations could re-condition man's "social framework," a framework presently dominated by nationstates. John Grierson, sometime student of interest groups and elites at the University of Chicago and a firm friend of Huxley, encouraged these Unesco promotional ventures. The related theme of the essay stemmed from Huxley's concept of progress; it might be described as a guideline for the conscious and considered assistance of evolution by intelligent men. Some lines of natural evolution led to dead ends. Progress, however, always permitted further progress, always left the way open for further advance. The avoid­ ance of dead ends required sapience and timely action lest "nature" shut off paths of human advancement. Albert Thomas's early initiatives in staking out substantial claims for future development by the International Labor Organi­ zation are known to have influenced Huxley's adaptation of this notion of progress to his own organizational situation. Together these predispositions inclined the first exec­ utive manager of Unesco away from governments—which bored him—and toward individuals and private groups. Governments produced many of the world's evils. More­ over, they presented a dead end to "Life's undeciding stream." If one could create a new framework for society, he would offer evolution an alternate means to progress to­ ward the next critical juncture. Thus Huxley ignored nationstates, co-opted strong-minded individuals, and originated NGO legions to aid his organization in "advancing on a broad front." He resisted any closure of avenues for program development. And he found a plausible public rationale for his private vision. In his final report as Director-General, for instance, he said: "the fabric of the peaceful co-operative world towards which we are working must be woven of many strands, or it will unravel under strain." Unfortunately for the course of Unesco's development,

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Huxley's perception of human affairs did not prompt him to draw his nongovernmental framework into a living rela­ tionship with his own organization. He practiced engage­ ment only upon an interpersonal scale. His approach to the problem of a surrogate framework consisted of an insuffi­ cient number of steps: discover a needy area within one's map of the whole; stimulate someone to set up a correspond­ ing NGO; move on to the next needy area. Julian Huxley's nurture of Unesco projects has drawn the comments of various colleagues. "Almost all ideas excited him with equal intensity," concluded one; "whatever idea was before him was for the moment of transcendent im­ portance."32 That he conveyed this enthusiasm to individ­ uals in all specialties can hardly be denied. Yet Huxley valued some enterprises more highly than others. His essay stated that the "evolutionary approach" not only suggested "the origin and biological roots of our human values" but offered "some basis and external standards" for choosing "among the apparently neutral mass of natural phenom­ ena." His application, though less clearly discriminating, did tend to favor certain fields over others. To him, the sciences and cultural activities took on the quality of ends; education to some extent, and communications more em­ phatically, took on the quality of means. Huxley was personally acquainted with the use of the media of communications and with their limitations. In the latter 1930s, moreover, he had participated in a small com­ mittee convened under auspices of the Institut international de cooperation intellectuelle to consider which values might readily be promoted through the mass media. The IICI committee concluded that science could, but peace could not, be thus popularized. His 1946 essay's brief penultimate section on mass media, when actually directed to them, sounded a note of caution about their international deploy­ ment and about their tendency to vulgarize taste or to erect false ideals. The mass media, in Huxley's phrase, func32Ascher,

pp. 9-10; cf. Sathyamurthy, pp. 25ff., 97ff.

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tioned properly as "servicing agencies for man's higher activ­ ities." In this respect as in others his intentions led him into action at cross-purposes with that of American representa­ tives. Julian Huxley brought no great passion for education to Unesco, even though he had twice advised his government upon colonial education in Africa and had pioneered in making the London Zoo a massive educating institution. There was a tone almost of self-satisfaction in his prior evocation of the first African experience: "without indulg­ ing either the false sentimentality of jingo imperialism or the false shame of doctrinaire little-Englandism," he wrote in 1931, one could "simply feel proud of belonging to a nation which does a difficult job, demanding such unselfish devotion, honesty and hard work, and does it on the whole so well. . . . If a contact with a bit of the British Colonial Empire has not yet made me a full-blooded devotee of Kiplingismus, it has certainly shown me the way to a spirit of Liberal Imperialism."38 In the years since this report his views changed moderately—as evidenced, for instance, in The Future of the Colonies, written with Phyllis Deane and published in 1944. His essay on Unesco expressed his en­ dorsement, almost like that of an academic person study­ ing infantile personality development, for the extension of education from nursery school down into the nursery itself. In the same essay he referred in passing to "levelling up" educational, scientific and cultural facilities wherever they fell "below the average." He had used the same metaphor a few months before his Unesco commitment with respect solely to science. His first General Conference summons for Unesconians to "habilitate" the needy outside of war zones startled at least one close associate: this was not character­ istic. Travels to Latin America and elsewhere during the final months of his tenure led Huxley into increasing seriousmindedness about fundamental education, though in his valedictory remarks he offered this balance: "Unesco's com38

Quoted by Clark, p. 198.

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petence . . . is primarily concerned with Science and Cul­ ture, and with Education as the method of transmitting them." Science might have seemed to offer weak assurance for the future of peace and security. Needham and others spoke of the efficacy of science for advancing knowledge and for furthering the common welfare. Huxley cleared a path for the contention that science could contribute to the gradual creation of a less belligerent world. He stated in 1946 that "Science and the scientific way of thought is as yet the one human activity which is truly universal. There is no single religious, aesthetic, or political way of thought which is as yet universal. We want, therefore, to encourage this univer­ sality of scientific thought and through it help to build the basis of general universalism." Whether he relied upon the justification of peace, advancement of knowledge, or the common welfare, Huxley spurred Unesco toward efforts to see "that the scientific butter is spread adequately thickly over the bread of the surface of the earth." In his estimation, this process might be advanced by the setting and applying of standards for public scientific expenditure. "When Gov­ ernments perceive that other Governments are far ahead of them in such ways," he said, "perhaps they will begin to redouble their own efforts."84 Once again Huxley pre­ ferred to deal with the agents of nation-states at a distance. Huxley relied upon no constitutional basis for cultural activities other than that of supporting the advancement of knowledge. Nor did he feel the necessity of doing so. "We have to think about music and painting," he contended in 1946, "about history and classical studies, about language and architecture, about theater and ballet, about libraries and museums, and art galleries and zoos, about the history of art and the world's different cultures, about creative writing and about philosophy." Huxley had been expected to promote science; his catholicity of interest propelled him, 3iHuxley,

pp. 72-3.

"The Future of Unesco," Discovery, 7 (February 1946),

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and those Unesco colleagues charmed by him, into many other realms of exploration. In other ways, too, Huxley hoped to universalize human thinking, or fit it with a world view. Shortly before coming to Unesco he had collaborated with H. G. Wells on The Science of Life. This work was intended to emulate Wells's earlier Outline of History by popularizing the historic sweep of biology. Perhaps mindful also of CAME participants' ef­ forts to cast history within a less parochial setting, Huxley encouraged Unesco to undertake a scientific and cultural history of mankind. As he envisaged it, this history would show the influence of contemporary interpretations of the universe and man's place in it. This history would also dem­ onstrate "the way in which the steady growth in human numbers has progressively changed the conditions of human existence—a striking example of how purely quantitative changes can have qualitative effects." His study "might help towards the abandonment of the comparatively crude attitude, based too much upon mechanistic and technolog­ ical considerations, which has characterized the national­ istic civilizations of the recent past, in favour of a more rounded approach in which biological and psychological factors would be given proper weight, and the histories of separate nations and periods would be seen merely as por­ tions of the great single process of man s development." Drawing upon this background of faith, finally, the work would "attempt to set out the history of mankind in such a way as to afford, if not a guide to human destiny, at least a guide as to the conditions of that destiny."35 In Huxley's view the scope of the social sciences was virtually coterminous with the study of mankind. At the outset Huxley was inclined to place them organizationally 35

Spender finds the Huxleys "by heredity religious." With Julian this trait's expression is "the evolutionary humanism which makes a divine purpose of developing human consciousness." Review of Laura Archera Huxley, This Timeless Moment, in New York Review of Books, 10 November 1968, p. 32.

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alongside the natural sciences so that "the methods worked out in one branch of natural science could be applied to another, or to the social sciences, or vice versa." The "ap­ plication of scientific methods in appropriate forms to hu­ man affairs," he wrote in the essay for Unesco, would "yield results every whit as important and almost as revolutionary as those achieved by the natural sciences in the rest of the universe." Appropriate scientific method was in part a func­ tion of each problem, and Huxley's problems ranged across a vast horizon. The determination of optimum population size relative to technological and social conditions sug­ gested one approach; the improvement of language as a tool for analysis and communication with minimal mis­ understanding suggested a quite different one. Analyzing which personality types should and which should not be chosen to act as political leaders, a task which "Unesco must certainly sometime face," demanded still another mode of inquiry. Developing "the emotional capacity of mankind" necessitated an imaginative combination of practical inno­ vations in modern society so as to resocialize the human animal "through drama and painting, through national parks and nature preservation, through the beauty of fine archi­ tecture and good planning, through world community." Huxley's first essay failed to pose an acceptable unifying idea for Unesco. He subsequently prescribed what he called the orchestration of cultural diversity within an advancing world civilization. "Orchestration of diversity" he had earlier borrowed from L. K. Frank; it well suited "the exploration of new and more outlets for creative activity and expression" and the deliberately conducted "emergence of new enjoy­ ments and new possibilities of individual and social devel­ opment" which he also proposed. Yet world civilization im­ plied not simply the cultivation of human individuality; diversity presumed men's access to the higher common activities of all mankind. World civilization meant partici­ pating in cultural creation and sharing the fruits of other men's cultural creations. A material framework was neces­ sary, but to Huxley this did not present the chief difficulty.

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"The real question," he stated in his culminating report as Director-General, "is how can Unesco help in making gov­ ernments and peoples comprehend the importance of the arts, individual, social and international, and realize that the aesthetic and emotional foundations of a peaceful world civilization are just as important as the scientific and intel­ lectual? I do not pretend to know the answer: but I do know that the question is extremely important." Julian Huxley was not the only person to tender a guiding doctrine for the emerging Unesco. At the first General Con­ ference, for instance, Archibald MacLeish authored a fragile and, as it happened, ephemeral synthesis of the peace-andsecurity, advancement-of-knowledge, and common-welfareof-mankind premises of various participants. " 'Peace'," stated MacLeish with the Program Commission's concur­ rence, means something more than a mere absence of overt hos­ tilities. It means a condition of solidarity, harmony of pur­ pose, and coordination of activities in which free men and women can live a secure and satisfactory life—a condi­ tion in which war is affirmatively prevented by the dy­ namic and purposeful creation of a decent and human relationship between the peoples of the world—a condi­ tion in which the incentives to war are neutralized by the social, spiritual, and economic advances created and achieved. More celebrated was the healing effort of Jacques Maritain. Opening the 1947 General Conference in Mexico City, the noted Roman Catholic scholar and leader of the French delegation first rejected both the approach of abandoning all ideologies and that of attempting "a common doctrinal denominator." He then urged a way of "practical ideology." The Towel of Babel which was Unesco, and the world about it, offered "no common tongue" and "no common founda­ tions for speculative thought." And yet, he maintained,

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"agreement between minds can be reached spontaneously, not on the basis of common speculative ideas, but on com­ mon practical ideas, not on the affirmation of one and the same conceptions of the world, of man and of knowledge, but upon the affirmation of a single body of beliefs for guidance in action." Maritain's illustration was human rights, or what he called the rights of man. With others he could affirm these rights as commonly declared; to himself, he, like every other man to himself, could maintain that his truth alone provided a firm foundation for realizing them. Thus all could strive together "at the point where in prac­ tice the most widely separated theoretical ideologies and mental traditions converge."36 Huxley's own try at accommodating various antitheses had foreshadowed the Unesco retreat from "conceptual" approaches. "The problem," he wrote near the end of his 1946 essay, "is . . . not one of metaphysics or dogma, but essen­ tially practical—how best to adjust or still better to recon­ cile the claims of . . . concrete sets of realities. . . . I believe that this reconciliation can be approached from two direc­ tions. It can be approached from above and outside, as an intellectual problem, a question of agreement in principle: and it can also be approached from below and from within, as a practical problem, a question of agreement through action." To bury the ideological nerve endings exposed by par­ ticipants' competing doctrines was not without its advan­ tages, as spokesmen for what some called a "functional" approach soon observed.37 But Unesconians' practice of list­ ing divergent intentions with the hope of acting before agreement would prove a mixed blessing when it came time to fulfill participants' expectations. 36 Karp, pp. 59-61. Karp observes that Sir John Maud, among others, had preceded Maritain with a first General Conference call for agreement "upon concrete projects and not upon philosophies." 37 Cf. C. F. Fraser, "The Functional Approach to Unesco," Dalhousie Review, 27 (July 1947), pp. 146f., 151.

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The autonomy of secretariat divisions and the prolifera­ tion of programs were developments aided by the decision not to adopt a Unesco "philosophy." No doubt an official acceptance of Huxley's criteria would have encouraged organizational dispersion, notwithstanding his essay's rheto­ ric about assessing alternative program possibilities. But without official guidance of any kind for discriminating among various opportunities, the tendency toward diffusion that Huxley had predicted was bound to become even more serious. Huxley countenanced program proliferation, contributed to it, spurred it on; he did not create all the preferences of which this proliferation was composed. Nor could he alone have sanctioned the adoption of Unesco program items. By July 1946, about 150 specific projects had been outlined. Government representatives upon the Preparatory Com­ mission had added their endorsement to the growing list. Though "of varying practical value," an interim summary stated, "all of them, even the least promising, have an in­ contestable concrete worth; whether they are expedient or practically realisable is not, of course, at the moment in question."88 In a context of disagreement over proper pur­ poses for Unesco, these accumulating ideas for organization­ al action posed a formidable challenge for participants. In no setting was this more apparent than in the General Con­ ference, whose plenary delegates evinced only limited prep­ aration and found themselves with too little time for delib­ eration. During the first General Conference, six program subcommissions composed largely of professional enthusiasts prepared summaries of their discussions in substantive fields. They provided no draft resolutions, and it was not 88 Besides the Preparatory Commission's progress report of July 1946, see "Future Activities of U.N.E.S.C.O.," Manchester Guardian, 9 July 1946; Melita Spraggs, "As Meetings Conclude, They Are Pleased With Progress of Preparatory Commission," Christian Sci­ ence Monitor, 24 July 1946.

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possible, given the schedule previously agreed upon, even to collate their reports. Program prospectuses thus were adopted virtually intact by the plenary. The Program Com­ mission of this inaugural General Conference quite openly bequeathed hard choices to those who would remain be­ hind: "We wish . . . to be clearly understood to state that the Director-General, as the responsible officer of the or­ ganization, must, in the last analysis, make the selection and produce the program." Several criteria were enunciated for choosing among possible undertakings: the organization's purpose ("peace" as augmented); the program's overall co­ herence; feasibility in terms of available staff; financial feasibility; and the relevance of project to the end in view (with relevance, end, and viewer all begging specification). Certain projects should merely be approved for future im­ plementation, while others were given priority for accom­ plishment in 1947. Commission participants urged that the first-year projects be "crucially important and obviously useful undertakings." No potential projects better met these considerations than the foredoomed opportunities for re­ construction and rehabilitation. To their injunction addressing the Director-General, the plenary delegates subsequently added an assignment of joint responsibility by the Executive Board. Board partici­ pants in turn met, organized themselves, and decided to await direction from the secretariat. Deputy Director-Gen­ eral Walter Laves prepared for the Board's second session a document classifying projects (there were 53 headings), dividing them into two priorities, summarizing appropriate action, and relating all to available funds. His presentation was greeted with applause. Yet in their collegial delibera­ tions, individuals upon the Executive Board found them­ selves afflicted by some of the same maladies that had troubled the Preparatory Commission and the General Con­ ference. Bernard Drzewieski's criticism of an earlier draft of the program, that it suffered "from the influence of spe­ cialists," was appreciated in principle by those sitting on

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the subsequent panel. These men could likewise smile knowingly at the observation by J. Kuypers of Belgium: that by insisting upon his own special interest, each rep­ resentative contributed to the outfitting of a "cavalry of hobby-horses." But Board decision-makers still could not decide which of the proposals to submit for Kuypers' rem­ edy—"anesthetizing." They refused to authorize Laves, serving momentarily as acting Director-General while Hux­ ley was away, to apply further criteria in order to achieve program concentration. Like Laves, they saw ample justi­ fication in the Constitution for their own preferences; un­ like him, they hesitated to exclude others on constitutional grounds or for any other reason. The third Board meeting shortly before the General Con­ ference of 1947 provides an instructive glimpse of the choice-makers. Board members devoted their attention to repackaging the secretariat's draft program into publicly salable chapter headings: Raising the Standards of Edu­ cation, Science, and Culture; The Free Flow of Ideas; Ed­ ucation for International Understanding; Man and the Modem World; and Action through Governments and People. The first three, it was said, corresponded to man's historic quest for equality, liberty, and fraternity; the fourth updated these aims; and the fifth pointed toward the re­ sponsibility for achieving them. But before these ideas could be put to work, someone would have to delineate the actual program. To a four-man program committee the Board delegated its hard choices. Ronald Walker, an Australian economist and diplomat, chaired this committee; Pierre Auger of France and Jan Opocensky of Czechoslovakia joined him on the Sunday morning of 27 July 1947. Archibald MacLeish, the Board member of U.S. nationality, had resigned at the previous Board meeting, and Milton Eisenhower occupied his place upon Board and committee alike. Eisenhower, however, left this responsibility to his alternate, Dean Richard McKeon,

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University of Chicago philosopher. This committee in­ structed Laves and three other secretariat officials upon further steps in drafting, then rejoined them and Huxley three days later to issue further instructions. Walker worked closely with secretariat redrafters. When on Friday, 1 Au­ gust, the committee once more took up its work, McKeon had departed for the United States and Auger had left the city. Arthur A. Compton, resident Unesco delegate of the U.S. Department of State, replaced McKeon. At 5 P.M. the Director-General left. Those remaining worked until mid­ night. According to a participant on the secretariat side, "final approval of the Board's proposed program was in effect given by two men: Dr. Walker and Mr. Compton." Their advice consisted chiefly of a general warning against diffusion of the program under pressure of "sectional inter­ ests" and a hope that Unesco would "identify pressing needs, define ways of meeting them, . . . bring them to the atten­ tion of the proper agencies, and . . . stimulate action upon them."39 The hope for Unesco's effectiveness, they implied, rested not with governmental participants but with the secretariat and especially with the secretariat's leadership. Nonetheless, governments' postures remained significant for actual policy outcomes. At Unesco's first General Con­ ference, the U.S. delegation urged creation of multi-special­ ty "task forces" to undertake "crucially important" assign­ ments. It was said that concentration upon major projects would render more fluid the compartmentalizing divisions in the secretariat. The Executive Board authorized four "General Program Projects": reconstruction and rehabilita­ tion, education for international understanding, fundamen­ tal education, and an Amazon River basin project. The first, as already noted, rested upon indeterminate financial com­ mitments; the second included "pilot projects" and certain activities previously cited, although it implied no extraordi39

Ascher, pp. 18ff., 26-7; Karp, pp. 95ff.

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nary joint funding. Fundamental education and the Hylean Amazon project, along with preliminary preparation for a project centering upon the earth's arid zones, however, bear further consideration. Among the more visible parents of Unesco fundamental education were Director-General-to-be Jaime Torres Bodet of Mexico and Preparatory Commission staffer Kuo Yu-shou, who doubtless wished to improve upon an interwar IICI ex­ perience in China. There were other contributors. Funda­ mental Education: Common Ground for All Peoples brought to a single publication, if not to a single perspec­ tive, the views of authorities from several countries. "Funda­ mental," like "education," meant differing things to different people. In everyday usage the phrase seemed to reconcile these differences. Thus, for instance, it could imply to vari­ ous groups the primary education of all youngsters, literacy instruction for populations at every age level, and basic training in the skills of health, housing, agriculture, and nu­ trition. It could connote "community education" without defining the community or accounting for the ways in which its social, economic, and political context would affect every effort. Perhaps too the attempt to package disparate chal­ lenges as a single organizational task—an attempt spurred by governments' pressures to concentrate Unesco's program —led Unesconians to scant local idiosyncrasies. These were some of the difficulties which would beset pilot projects in Haiti, China, and British East Africa.40 No statement presaged them better than a Mexican memoran­ dum to the Preparatory Commission dated 12 April 1946: 40 On

failure in the Marbial Valley, see Marian Neal, "United Nations Technical Assistance Programs in Haiti," International Con­ ciliation, 468 (February 1951), especially pp. 102-11. An unsettling recollection of how this project began is recorded in Huxley, Memories II (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1973), p. 23. For criticism of a later fundamental education venture, see Ronald C. Nairn, Inter­ national Aid to Thailand: The New Colonialism? (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966).

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Ignorance is not an isolated social fact, but one aspect of a condition of general backwardness which has many other features, like paucity of production, absence of in­ dustrialization, insignificant exports, poor transport and communications, deficient capital and income, bad con­ ditions in regard to food, clothing, housing and public health, and a high death rate. Illiteracy is the first symp­ tom of ignorance among peoples and needs to be fought actively and urgently. . . . The primary cause . . . is the whole series of phenomena which constitute the histori­ cal backwardness of a country. It follows . . . that a radical solution of the problem of illiteracy must be sought in promoting the development of countries which still suffer from it, until they reach the level of more advanced nations. . . . But neither the stubbornness of this problem nor the re­ quirements of an effective remedy was generally acknowl­ edged. An American in a good position to observe called the Hylean Amazon basin project one of the five most impor­ tant in the eyes of the U.S. delegation to the first General Conference. This project had not been promoted by sci­ entists in the Unesco secretariat, though they did not oppose its assignment to their department. It promised to strength­ en the new Field Science Co-operation Office in Latin America. At the behest of Professor Paulo de Berredo Carneiro, Brazilian biochemist, and in lieu of a negative from Huxley, the Executive Board "elevated" the Amazon scheme to the level of "Unesco-wide project." The project outlined a Unesco good offices role, that of inviting interested gov­ ernments to work toward an international institute for study and potential exploitation of a sizable tropical zone. If suc­ cessful, the project would link action in education and social science with that in other program sectors. At the outset, planning rested solely in the jurisdiction of the Natural Sciences department. No budgetary changes accompanied

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the Board's redesignation of the project to its exalted status.41 The Amazon fluvial region encompassed about one-fifth of South America and included territory in nine states. It was thought to contain mineral deposits at least as exten­ sive as those of the United States. Prospects of investigating the Amazon basin and the world's largest tropical forest excited individual specialists, popularizers of science, and officials of several inter-American agencies; it interested the Rockefeller-oriented International Basic Economy Corpora­ tion and the governments of France, Holland, Italy and Britain. Here was an opportunity for participants to pene­ trate an area previously unexplored. Brazil's government convened an international meeting during August 1947 to consider establishing the Interna­ tional Institute of the Hylean Amazon (IIIIA). The result­ ing report recommended III IA s creation. However, when governmental delegates at the Unesco General Conference restricted organizational financing to the year 1948, enthu­ siasm began to wane. Brazilian military men reacted ad­ versely to the threat of foreign intrusion. The United States government did not sign the final act of IIHA. Neither it nor the British government undertook financial involvement in IIHA's founding at a conference during 1948. At this meeting, nine other governments from South America and Europe agreed to underwrite a small budget and to set up IIHA headquarters at Manaus, Brazil. The study of arid zones was undertaken through Unesco on an extended schedule following internal secretariat studies and formal initiative by the International Union of Theoretical and Applied Mechanics (IUTAM), a confederated member of the International Council of Scientific Unions. At the 1948 General Conference a high-ranking secretariat official con41Bryn J. Hovde, "UNESCO," Social Research, 14 (March 1947), p. 26; Asclierj pp. 7, 8. On Berredo Carneiro's personal political style, cf. Lillian Ross, "Unesco, Xochimilco, and a Likely Oscar," New Yorker, 10 January 1948, p. 57.

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vinced the Indian government to propose a resolution sanc­ tioning these efforts. Preliminary research work was com­ missioned by Unesco for IUTAM, the International Union of Pure and Applied Physics, the International Union of Geodesy and Geophysics, the International Union of Bio­ logical Sciences and the International Geographic Union. With the Amazon experience at hand, secretariat members were determined not to ripen the arid zones project pre­ maturely. Unesco librarians tried without great success to make an impression upon the world at large. During the war, indi­ vidual Hbrarians had projected designs extending beyond a period of rehabilitation and above the limitations of na­ tion-states. Theodore Besterman proposed an international library clearing-house and outlined an ambitious and imag­ inative bibliographical scheme for interlibrary communica­ tion. Carl Hastings Milam urged expanded efforts toward the international exchange of librarians. Archibald MacLeish, at the time Librarian of Congress, called for a global system of interlibrary loans. A Preparatory Commission re­ port launched what Edward Carter, first chief of Unesco's Libraries division, later described as "a hard-hitting attack on the dreary concepts of library service which had pre­ vailed too often in too many places before the war."42 Ideas from diverse sources were transported, in some cases by their protagonists, into Unesco. Julien Cain of France, fu­ ture Unesco Director-General Luther Evans of the Library of Congress, and Ralph Shaw of the U.S. Department of Agriculture Library (reputed inventor of the Unesco Book Coupon device employed to overcome currency exchange 42 This

section depends on Carter's "The Birth of Unesco's Library Programmes," Med Boken Som Bakgrunn: Festskrift til Harold. L. Tveteras (Oslo, 1964), pp. 183-96. For a more positive estimate, see Michael Keresztesi, "Success Story (Cont.)," Saturday Review, 54 (27 November 1971), 33.

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difficulties in international sales of publications) were early contributors to a pool of ideas. With considerable verve the Unesco Hbrarians initiated various enterprises. The Unesco Bulletin for Libraries began in April 1946 as the first of many specialized periodicals un­ der the organization's auspices. Unesconians' exuberance overran the barriers to collaboration erected by those guid­ ing pre-existent NGOs; secretariat librarians also created transnational associations in areas where none existed. A seminar on public libraries held in Manchester during 1948 was said to be the first of all seminars animated by Unesco; the library in Delhi became the first permanent institution established by the organization inside a member state. Pop­ ular libraries for easy public use were backed with increas­ ing effect by the Americans, British, and Scandinavians, who prided themselves on their own pioneering efforts and saw in this promotional effort a useful contrast with totalitarian­ ism. Other library efforts foundered. Because of what Edward Carter saw as American distrust of Polish secretariat mem­ ber Bernard Drzewieski, though also no doubt because of unilateral U.S. strategies in relief and reconstruction, library rehabilitation never approached what Unesconians had hoped for. Besterman's proposed World BibUographical and Library Centre was approved in principle at the first Gen­ eral Conference but later officially abandoned to such bib­ liographic enterprises as might be mounted by two col­ laborating NGOs, the International Federation of Library Associations (IFLA) and the International Federation for Documentation (FID). The librarians never succeeded in attaining "horizontal" staff status comparable to that en­ joyed by communications personnel. For some time the Unesco library section remained compartmentalized within Cultural Activities, where Unesconians continued to chafe at being cut off from the natural sciences, with their prob­ lems and advancing methods of documentation and dissemi-

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nation, and from close intercourse with other substantive sectors. The financial challenge of duly authorized activities brought out vividly the degree of governments' commit­ ments to Unesco. An early intimation occurred during the final phase of the Preparatory Commission. Huxley pro­ posed a budget of approximately $10 million for the organ­ ization's first full year. His figure bore little evident rela­ tionship to a consideration of how to implement proposed program items. Had the two procedures been joined, or the two problems jointly confronted, perhaps the modesty of financial claims would have become clear. Governmental participants in the Preparatory Commission simply cut Hux­ ley's budget down to $7.5 million. Some member states' representatives hinted that they carried instructions to pare it further during the first General Conference. While the Conference's Program Commission divided it­ self and multiplied its recommendations, a separate Com­ mission on Finance, Administration, Legal, and External Relations considered the budget. The U.S. delegation had brought instructions for a budget of $6 million, and Benton maintained that not only was this adequate for a "stream­ lined" program, but that a modest budget would best win support for Unesco by demonstrating its economy and prudence. United Kingdom spokesman David Hardman, on the other hand, contended that "We should be betraying our trust if at the very outset of Unesco's career, a move were made to reduce its financial resources to a point be­ low what we believe necessary to put into execution its approved program." The Americans prevailed. A French motion to add $550,000 for relief and rehabilitation was turned back. Benton had warned against creating a false impression that Unesco was handling direct relief. He stated that "American private sources had donated much larger sums" to relief than their organization "could possibly

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obtain" from his own and other governments. Although some delegations recommended a revolving multilateral fund for assistance in rehabilitation, Benton and several other representatives said that they could not thus commit their legislatures. Having acted decisively to this extent, General Conference delegates "left Paris in a scramble to get home before Christmas."43 The 1947 General Conference cropped Huxley's next an­ nual request to $7,682,637. In Beirut the following year he asked for $8,474,000 and pleaded for no less than $8,250,000 to underwrite the activities of 1949. British, South African, and other delegates criticized "administrative" costs. An early Conference decision, initiated by the U.S. and French delegations, set a ceiling of $8,000,000. Only Mexico ab­ stained in the vote of 30-0. This 1948 General Conference, whose business also included the election of a Unesco Director-General, subsequently cut the budget down to $7,780,000. As the end of Huxley's abbreviated term neared, there arose speculation that the first Unesco Director-General would succeed himself. The incumbent apparently never counted upon this. U.S. overseers of the prior understanding remained adamant; however, no North American was ad­ vanced as Huxley's replacement. In the summer of 1948, Huxley conveyed to the Board his firm resolve to step down. Ronald Walker of Australia emerged as an early favorite during the Executive Board's nominating preliminaries. He had shown himself to be a firm advocate of budgetary stringency and a strong chairman of the Board. In a con­ temporary photograph of Board members and the DirectorGeneral, one Unesco onlooker recalled some years later, 43Ascher, p. 19; "Budget of UNESCO Put at $6,950,000," New York Times, 8 December 1946; "Budget of UNESCO Is Set at $6,950,000," New York Times, 11 December 1946; "Budget for '47 of $6,000,000," New York Herald Tribune, 11 December 1946.

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Walker eclipsed Huxley in a way that furthered talk about his ambitions. E. Roland Walker, later Sir Ronald, would go on to greater distinction both inside and outside Unesco. But the Directorship-General was not to be his. "The Latinos," said an Anglo-Saxon secretariat official, "wanted a Latino, or at least not another Anglo-Saxon." Zimmern and Huxley were English; now it was time for a change. Others offered differing explanations for the oppo­ sition that mounted in Beirut as delegations gathered for the third General Conference. In private discussions the French produced an alternate nominee, though without gaining substantial backing for him, and a man from India became a more serious contender. Jaime Torres Bodet emerged as a distant possibility. The French warmed quick­ ly to his candidacy; others did also. Now Mexican Foreign Minister, he was absent from the Conference and it was not known by anyone, and indeed doubted by some, whether man or government would accede to such a de­ cision. "For a while," wrote the reminiscence-armed biog­ rapher of the Huxleys, "decision hovered near disaster." Huxley devised what he thought was a means to perpetuate the direction he had established. He quietly informed key delegates that he wanted Torres Bodet. A fellow member of the Old Commonwealth put it bluntly: having warned secretariat fellows not to get involved in this choice, he himself did so. As the 1948 General Conference opened, Board leader­ ship sought an early plenary decision upon the new Direc­ tor-General. From Walker's standpoint, this move misfired. By a count of 23 to 10 the test vote failed. Some delegates wanted further time to see if Torres Bodet were available; others, however, simply could not act conclusively without instructions from their capitals. Walker stepped down and the word from Mexico City was affirmative. The Board's new nominee was endorsed by a vote of 30 to 3, with 2 ballots disqualified. Ronald Walker received warm applause

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when he spoke of the Australian delegation's pleasure at this choice.44 Jaime Torres Bodet was born in 1902, the only son of Emilia Bodet and Alejandro Torres Girbent. His father was a theatrical producer and businessman; his mother, of French descent, introduced him to the culture to which her ancestry had given her access. His childhood and early schooling at the Escuela Preparatoria in Mexico City oc­ curred during a tumultuous phase in Mexican history. In his autobiographical Tiempo de Arena he later ascribed to the constant change of teachers his early willingness "to assume . . . a greater responsibility for our own decisions." He was writing poetry when he was twelve years old, and by the time he entered higher studies he had received the approbation of poet Gonzalez Martinez for his first col­ lection, Fervor. He continued to publish volumes of poetry and prose in Madrid (until the middle thirties) and in Mexico, although his calling carried him into other pur­ suits.45 Jose Vasconcelos, chancellor of the national university, asked the young man to serve as his private secretary and later as chief of the department of public libraries when such libraries were first being established. This was a time and Vasconcelos a man of brave experiment in Mexican education. As Minister of Public Education, Vasconcelos led a war on illiteracy waged by volunteers or "honorary teach­ ers" against what he called "the barbarism of the country­ side." The aim was literacy, hygiene, local artistic expres­ sion, and democracy. Vasconcelos arranged the inexpensive publication of classics and the employment of great artists 44 Huxley comments on this election period in Memories II, pp. 66-67. 45 Sonja Karsen "Jaime Torres Bodet: A Poet in a Changing World" 5 (Saratoga Springs: Skidmore College, 1963). For material on Jose Vasconcelos this account is obliged to David Silbersteins unpublished essay.

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and muralists as instructors and public servants. At the be­ ginning Vasconcelos said, "We have all the ideas we need, more than we can use. What we need is money, resources, people, details, persistence." The high hopes shared by Torres Bodet and his mentor were to be followed by bitter disappointments over implementation. In 1924, having taken leave of his mission with Vasconcelos, Torres Bodet received a chair in French literature at the Escuela de Altos Estudios. Following brief service with the Ministry of Health, he applied for diplomatic duty and thereafter represented his country in Madrid, at The Hague, in Paris, and, following a tour of duty in Mexico City, in Brussels. In 1940, he became second-in-command of the foreign ministry, and three years later, at the age of 41, he was named by President Avila Camacho to the office in which Vasconcelos had acted. Torres Bodet mounted a na­ tional crusade whose slogan was "each one teach one," en­ joining every able Mexican adult to go forth in a massive effort to eradicate illiteracy. It was later calculated that over 1,000,000 persons learned to read and write, at least temporarily, for an average cost of seventy-seven cents. Torres Bodet extended and strengthened the national sys­ tem of circulating libraries. The United States International Book Association augmented available reading during this time with book contributions from American publishers to the national library in Mexico City. While Minister of Ed­ ucation, Torres Bodet had represented Mexico at the Lon­ don conference that constituted Unesco. Now, as he de­ parted from Mexico City for a Unesco in being, Torres Bodet carried with him strong convictions on the insufferability of living in a world of inequalities. Huxley at one point had cautioned against throwing all Unesco's efforts into an attempt to raise educational stan­ dards of the world's "least advanced sections." One of Torres Bodet's first public statements before arriving at Unesco pointed toward a campaign to combat illiteracy around the world and not merely in war-devastated countries. "It is my

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hope," he said, "to intensify in a broader area the work I started in my own country." In an echo of his London con­ ference address he held Unesco's mission to be "the noblest and most important . . . that men have been able to con­ ceive." Further Unesco changes seemed in prospect as Torres Bodet paused in New York for a press conference at the United Nations and a fete by members of the United States National Commission who had stayed at home during the General Conference. The Director-General-elect voiced his determination to cut administrative costs and thereby em­ phasize operational activities. Upon arriving in Beirut, he paralleled certain other themes in the current General Con­ ference debate. The organization was on trial before the world's peoples, he said; it must not dissipate its strength with too many projects; the program must be reduced if that were necessary to make Unesco effective. Deleted portions of his prepared address were even stronger: We must find our way out of the maze in which theorists might wish to keep UNESCO indefinitely. . . . The world is waiting while we carry on our discussions. We are not in Byzantium, and what the masses hope from UNESCO is not fair promises, practicable or not, but tangible im­ mediate undertakings which are directly related to the wishes of mankind in general.*® Unesco's first two Directors-General carried into office somewhat different views of the appropriate relationship be­ tween Unesco and other United Nations organizations. Hux­ ley brought a personal conception of how the expanding galaxy of postwar international organizations should be ordered and how it should make possible the participation of scientists. His initial opinion emphasized the ascendancy of science as a field of endeavor more than the ascendancy of Unesco as an institution. During the London conference 46 Sam Pope Brewer, "UNESCO Welcomes Its New Director," New York Times, 11 December 1948.

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he saw that this organization clearly could not perform all the scientific tasks that in his view the United Nations should perform. Various other units, for instance those to be concerned with food production and with health, would demand services from men of science. And special "highpowered" scientific committees for the Security Council, the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), and the Trusteeship Council ought to "combine advisory with policy-making functions." Like some British officials, Hux­ ley at this time pictured a graded arrangement in which Unesco and most other specialized agencies would hold subordinate rank "in the sense that they will be on a lower hierarchical level" than the general United Nations organ­ ization. The agency above Unesco seemed likely to be what at this stage of blueprints he called the "Economic and So­ cial Advisory Council," an outlined forum subsequently ac­ corded principal organ status by those revising the draft UN Charter. Huxley accepted the presumed advantages of financing Unesco "through a block grant from the general funds" of the United Nations. Following his designation to head preparations for Unesco, however, he said that his or­ ganization might take over certain functions appropriate to what H. G. Wells called a "World Brain."47 Torres Bodet even more than Huxley was a strong UN man. He had headed the Mexican delegation to the General Assembly the year before he became Director-General. Next to education, no Unesco task moved him so much as that of joining other United Nations units in pursuit of universal human rights declared by a resolution of the UN's central plenary. In his selection of metaphor, he proved fond of endowing the UN organism with a Unesco conscience. Thus at the time Torres Bodet accepted the mandate of the 1948 General Conference, it might have appeared that Unesco was destined by its two first leaders for a role of close col47 "Science and the United Nations," pp. 553ff.; "The Future of Unesco," pp. 72-3.

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laboration within the United Nations organizational com­ plex. But actuality would prove more dependent upon other circumstances than upon any man s conception, or for that matter upon any legal scaffolding, for the relationships among intergovernmental organizations.48 On various inter­ national fronts from 1946 onward, negotiations upon the proper relationship among new and older agencies of the United Nations proceeded. UN Charter articles 57 and 63 directed that specialized agencies be 'Tarought into relation­ ship" with the United Nations. Master agreements, as they were called, elaborated conditions under which this status would be assumed by Unesco and by others. Neither the Unesco Preparatory Commission nor ECOSOC representa­ tives balked at terms based on the agreement negotiated by ILO and ECOSOC. These terms included reciprocal rights by the organizational parties to representation at meetings, and to inscription of agenda items; an obligation to report on action taken to effectuate recommendations by United Nations participants acting in other UN plenaries and councils; a pledge to provide agency assistance to the Security and Trusteeship councils upon request; a common expression of readiness to exchange documents and infor­ mation; and a common declaration of willingness to consult and cooperate in further measures to make administrative liaison effective. What organizational self-restraints were hereby undertaken? During this negotiating period and beyond, most bar­ gainers for the specialized agencies were insisting, with evident success, that although their budgets might be the subject of examination and recommendation by the General Assembly, they should not be the object of control by any48 A more general analysis of the discrepancy between design and actuality of the UN galaxy is the author's "Functional Agencies," in Cyril E. Black and Richard A. Falk, eds., The Future of the Inter­ national Legal Order, iv (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972), pp. 480-523.

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one except their respective participants—a position in which these participants heartily concurred as they became more fully engaged. No agency spokesmen drove home more compellingly their techniques of institutional selfdetermination than did those of the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD) and the Inter­ national Monetary Fund (IMF). Other agencies' bargain­ ers, including Unesco representatives, could thus employ a most-favored-agency tactic. The permissive terms of ref­ erence within the United Nations family were readily en­ dorsed by governmental delegates at the 1946 UN and Unesco plenaries. UN specialized agencies would in practice be affected surprisingly little by ECOSOC. The chief signifi­ cance of the UN General Assembly would be the New York plenary's possibilities as a resonating chamber for voices de­ manding expanded agency tasks. Unesco, like other intergovernmental agencies, had orig­ inated separately in time and space from the United Nations Conference on International Organization in San Francisco. At the London constituents' conference, a British proposal that Unesco be brought into operation for those who had ratified its constitution by a UN General Assembly resolu­ tion was suppressed by opposition led by the U.S. delega­ tion. Unesco thus owed its final inspiration to the cumulative consent of a legally sufficient number of governments act­ ing within their respective capitals, rather than to a focal dramatic moment. The news ending any international ex­ pectancy became known a few weeks before the scheduled first General Conference from Athens. Early decisions within the principal organs of the United Nations contributed further to the dispersion of agencies and to organic autonomy. A tendency to relegate adopted tasks to distant UN agencies was strengthened by General Assembly budget cuts. These cuts forestalled plans to staff ECOSOC functional commissions in New York so that they would be capable of collecting and analyzing data thought to be helpful for coordinating at a central UN location the

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work of associated organizational units seized of mutually adjustable tasks. Founders' insistence upon efficiency through budget reductions for ECOSOC made more diffi­ cult the job of those—in some cases representing the same nation-states—who later sought efficiency through agency coordination by ECOSOC. General Assembly majorities urged new undertakings upon Unesco. Concern for the ex­ change of workers and for the teaching of United Nations ideals, for instance, were consigned to Unesco. The Paris agency was asked to plan an international center for train­ ing in public administration. Still another resolution called for consideration of a program to translate the classics of various cultures. The Economic and Social Council com­ mended this proposal without obvious enthusiasm and re­ ferred it to Unesco. In certain ECOSOC circles this decision was meant to dispose of the scheme. At Unesco House, how­ ever, the resolve by principal UN organs was treated like a request for quick action. Unesco was born plural. Benton called it "a pork barrel riding on a cloud." Ritchie Calder Mkened it to the giant telescope atop Mount Palomar whose 200-inch reflector brought "into vision such a vast expanse of the universe, so many new nebulae, stars and constellations, that it will take the astronomers hundreds of years to chart them."49 Some said that everything had been foreseen by great men of long ago. Others maintained that IICI or, infrequently, another interwar experiment such as BIE had in fact been Unesco's progenitor in every significant respect. "Huxley had it all," remarked a scholarly secretariat member who had revisited the organization s early years. To one gazing retrospectively upon Unesco in early 1949 it might seem that all the big ideas must already have been posed. What would be done about them continued to be unclear. Most governments remained strangely unengaged in 49

Calder, "A Pork Barrel on a Cloud," News Chronicle, 16 De­ cember 1946.

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policy outcomes. UN governmental participants acted as if tasks should be secreted in outlying agencies such as Unesco. In Unesco, meanwhile, spokesmen for the same gov­ ernments sometimes claimed similar grounds for delegating officially accepted assignments to NGOs or for handing them over to other entrepreneurs. Participants in intergovmental organizations thus affirmed ends and negated means of programs. Given dispersed preferences of participants and their sponsors' capacities to win formal approval for them as Unesco undertakings, proliferation of this organiza­ tion's tasks followed almost ineluctably. This proliferation of tasks did not itself cause ineffectiveness of execution. But a lack of official resoluteness explained the latter pattern no less than the former one.

4, FACING "REALITY" (1949-1960)

FROM the beginning, various Unesco participants wanted

the organization born of their multilateral engagement to partake of authentic life rather than illusion. Reality, of course, differed considerably in the eyes of its beholders. Whose world was the actual world of Unesco? Was Unesco's genuine constituency one of culturally innovative individ­ uals, of allegedly culture-free masses, of interests organized as private groups? Or did this constituency consist of gov­ ernments who acted on behalf of nation-states? In which parts of the world was the Unesco constituency and in which parts did participation mean little to international actors? Should Unesco goods be consumed only by the or­ ganization s participants? If so, by all these participants? To what extent should goods be distributed among, or pressed upon, consumers that were not members? And again: What aim and objectives, among the unbounded possibilities, should Unesco's participants devote their para­ mount efforts toward accomplishing? Tacit answers to such implicit questions continued to shape the course of events. Without transforming Unesco's original traits, the play of participants' actions and reactions modified an emerging institution. For Unesco now offered occasional hints of an institutional entity along with indi­ cations of an assemblage of participants adding up their sundry claims.1 1 On institutionalization, see Philip Selznick, Leadership in Admin­ istration (New York: Harper & Row, 1957), pp. 5fF., 16ff.; Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven: Yale

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Several signs pointed toward the growth of an institution­ al character. Unesco's General Conference lengthened intermeeting intervals to two years and convened in Paris. Among other modifications, the Executive Board developed sufficient clubbishness to enable individual Board "mem­ bers" to resume private amity after public acrimony. Many NGOs attained continuing Unesco support, with attendant institutional consequences. Advisory committees afforded experts in various professional fields a standing means for participating in Unesco activities. ConsoHdation joined con­ centration as a program and budget theme. Secretariat procedures became infinitely more routinized than the staff directives that Julian Huxley had scribbled on the backs of envelopes and sometimes misplaced. A shortened name, Unescan, superseded the pristine denomination, Unesconian, in references to those occupying inner circles. Unesco's Heroic Age gave way to what some observers would later call its Middle Ages. The tentative decision on Paris as seat of Unesco increas­ ingly took on the quality of an accomplished fact, effectively thwarting any remaining Anglo-American hopes of placing all United Nations activities in a single headquarters loca­ tion. In 1949, Georges BidauIt asserted on behalf of France that it would not be reasonable for Unesco's advance to de­ pend upon clearance by the United Nations. "Let us there­ fore act by ourselves, in conformity with the main principles University Press, 1968), pp. 12-32. Huntington: "Institutionalization makes the organization more than simply an instrument to achieve certain purposes. Instead its leaders and members come to value it for its own sake, and it develops a life of its own quite apart from the specific functions it may perform at any given time." Beyond official records of the Unesco General Conference Executive Board, and annual reports of the Director-General, this chapter relies upon the Unesco Bulletin and, after 1954, the Uneseo Chronicle (UC). Inter­ views helped immeasurably. Walter H. C. Laves and Charles A. Thom­ son, UNESCO, has been more useful for our understanding of de­ velopments in the period through 1956 than subsequent footnotes adequately can acknowledge.

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of the United Nations, as an organ dependent upon, and related to that Organization, but having nevertheless its own life, its own aims and intentions; its own desires, and, I maintain, its own duties."2 In 1958, after some irresolution regarding site and architectural style, the institution found a headquarters location in the Place de Fontenoy. By indi­ rection and by participants' choices, Unesco was putting down roots. However endlessly Unescans proclaimed the nonpolitical character of their enterprises, Unesco unavoidably exposed political sensitivities. To the extent that Unesco proposals carried potential for serious change in anyone's status quo— and from the beginning such change was the hope of many —they touched unprotected nerves and stimulated political reactions. Beneath the rhetoric of international solidarity more candid voices conceded and occasionally relished the political opportunities offered by Unesco. In October 1949, for instance, Byron Dexter, Managing Editor of Foreign Affairs, prescribed a yardstick for measur­ ing Unesco's work. Dexter recognized in Unesco a "sense of promise and latent strength" but bemoaned the agency's "huge catch-all of internationalist schemes." He reported a growing tendency, among those sharing his point of view, no longer to take Unesco seriously. To reverse this trend, Unesco must wield political power on behalf of the United Nations. Projects should be judged alongside the premise: Do they serve as means to the chosen (and in Dexter's view the commonly agreed) end? Dexter and his associates sensed that "adapting the interests of the Soviet Union and all the rest of the world may not prove possible without fighting," and from this expectation he inferred the proper status of United Nations facilities in New York and Paris. "To the extent that [the likelihood of fighting] is true, the U.N. will always be pro-United States. How could it not be?" Unesco, "the spearhead of the United Nations," would serve to "focus attention on problems which the Secretariat 2 Quoted

by Laves and Thomson, p. 41.

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cannot now propagandize.' In short, it could deliberately use public opinion to build up the U.N. as the independent entity which (we must assume) all hope that it will some day become." Unesco must first overcome its reputation for incompetence. "But, if it can make the effective appeal to public opinion that it was designed to make, it will have an effective commodity to offer the United Nations: power."3 Here was a new sort of collective good. During the months before the Korean crisis, other Ameri­ cans were thinking along similar lines. William Benton, facing his first election campaign after appointment to pub­ lic office, expressed his views in an AP dispatch locally captioned "Senator Benton Urges Unesco to Face True Problems." Unesco, said Benton, must end its aloofness and recognize that it was a "political instrument in the cold war." Certain Unesco goals were "identical with American policy" and the United States should extend contributions under the Unesco aegis for projects to win "the minds and loyalty of mankind." In the Senate, Benton observed that Unesco might be used by the U.S. "to pierce the iron cur­ tain by broadcasting from Germany." Shortly Benton was to deliver substantially the same message at the Florence General Conference. In the meantime, similar thoughts ap­ peared in an address by President Truman: "when men throughout the world are making their choice between communism and democracy, the important thing is not what we know about our purposes and actions—the important thing is what they know."4 Some Unesco participants opposed American attempts to appropriate the organization's legitimacy, especially within occupied Germany. Vladislav Ribnikar, Yugoslav observer, 3 "Yardstick for UNESCO," Foreign Affairs, 28 (October 1949), pp. 56-66. 4 New Haven Register, 14 April 1950; "World-Wide Radio," Broadcasting, 38 (27 March 1950), p. 32; "Going Forward With a Campaign of Truth," United States Department of State Bulletin, 22 (1 May 1950), p. 670.

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attacked segments of the prepared program during the first General Conference: There is no reproof against those who preach war, their press, their broadcasts, their publications; nor is there any word on the possible means, either for dealing with such enemies of peace and co-operation or for opposing the destructive activity of Fascist and pro-Fascist elements which, in many countries, are still able to exist and even benefit by a certain protection. On the contrary, a whole series of proposals by the Preparatory Commission, mis­ using the principle of 'free flow of ideas,' provides for the penetration of the masses by a propaganda devised by the adversaries of peace and the instigators of new wars. The "warmonger" press and the "saber-rattling" radio continued to draw the ire of a few delegates; American comic strips and gangster films also received attention. After Ribnikar reconciled his government's posture to Unesco's, this attack was mounted by emissaries from Poland and Hungary. At Unesco's 1947 General Conference the Polish delegation launched a draft resolution appealing for UN action to "take such legal measures as will put the means of mass information at the sole disposal of friendly interna­ tional co-operation and will render impossible any activity hostile to such co-operation." The Hungarian observer seconded this gesture. "Logically," he added playfully, "those who declare that wars begin in the minds of men should understand the Polish resolution better than those who claim to have a more complex concept of the origin of world conflicts." Benton urged that Unesco not become "a sounding board for ideological and national interests." The proposal then succumbed in a flurry of parliamentary maneuvers. Unesco activities in Germany became the target of at­ tacks by the Polish spokesman during the fall of 1949. Ogrodzinski charged that "warmongers" wished to convert the local population into "mercenaries of a new expedition

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against the East." He too posed a test for Unesco: "The manner in which this problem is dealt with will show wheth­ er Unesco really intends to remain true to its principles of universality, or whether it will appear in the eyes of its members as a political instrument in the hands of a bloc of states or single state."5 In the chilling political atmosphere of May 1950, Unesco participants set the scene for their fifth General Conference in sunny Florence. At center stage, with his principles un­ der challenge and the first program and budget he could truly call his own, stood Jaime Torres Bodet. Henceforth Unesco would move beyond the status of a laboratory pilot­ ing techniques toward action to transform existing condi­ tions, he told gathering delegates. The executive manager had already awakened a commitment to Unesco operations within his secretariat. Torres Bodet's expectations stemmed from a complex man and hence they are subject to oversimplication in retro­ spect no less than misunderstanding at the moment of ac­ tion. Some discussion of his thinking is vital for understand­ ing the remainder of his period as executive manager of Unesco. He seems to have seen in Unesco the immediate prospect of an effective international force for well-being and security that should be tempered by a spirit of universalism. His opportunity with Unesco had led him to relin­ quish an important office in his own country in order to assume the new commitment. This Torres Bodet did with his characteristic "great seriousness and fatefulness." A close associate said that this Director-General thought of himself as a sort of prime minister called forth to serve at a critical juncture. Soon after accepting this calling, he described Unesco as his "personal faith" and its mission as a "great crusade." Those close to him say that he succeeded in im­ parting his sense of mission to an emerging Unesco. Educa5 Karp, pp. 58, 76-79, 82; Dexter, "UNESCO Faces Two Worlds," Foreign Affairs, 25 (April 1947), p. 400.

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tion for the deprived of the earth, education in its funda­ mentally liberating sense, received his early and ceaseless attention. For Torres Bodet more than for Huxley, Unesco promised to play an important part in achieving interna­ tional peace. Torres Bodet brought together commitment, well-being, and general security in his 1945 address in London. If the proposed Organisation could not count upon mak­ ing its voice heard at moments of crises, if its plans breathed peace, kindness and love for all beings, while on the other hand economics and political decisions bore the seal of factious egoism, of the greed of the mighty, of past injustices and hatreds, history may accuse us of the greatest and most sordid of hypocrisies. And then, weakened by a system of education which had failed to consider all the realities, future generations would one day come to curse our simplicity. No schools or school teachers can in fact educate more than does life itself. And if the schools educated for peace, while Hfe itself taught war, we should not be creating men; we should be breeding victims of life. He then submitted his measure for Unesco's work: "our activities will be useful according as we are determined to make our governments and peoples understand that every­ thing which they adopt in the sphere of culture will also commit them in other spheres of life and more especially in the concrete field of politics." As Director-General, Torres Bodet sought, not altogether successfully given the situation he inherited, to focus Unes­ co's activity upon those tasks he considered most important. With the aid of secretariat colleagues and member states' representatives, he enunciated new criteria for selecting projects. "It is through joint, constructive effort that men, forgetting what separates them, learn how to understand and help each other." A proposed basic program left ample

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room for annual programs. Yet Julian Huxley, summing up what he called Unesco's first phase, implied that his suc­ cessor had proved himself to be a partisan of instant peace without—fortunately in Huxley's view—being able to re­ verse existing organization endeavors. "A man possesses nothing," said Torres Bodet, "if he does not use what he has for the well-being of humanity." The Director-General wanted Unesco government participants also to live by his personal ethic of dedication. To an Amer­ ican audience in 1949 he stated that although "we are trying to do something about" the ridicule of Unesco as a mere place of dreamers and idealists, "our means are feeble. You cannot bring education, science, and culture to all the for­ gotten men and forgotten minds of a world with a budget which is less than eight million dollars a year." When gov­ ernments asked advice, he continued, "we feel like a doctor prescribing costly remedies to a patient who has not the money to buy them." The months before Florence were trying ones for Torres Bodet. No one has pictured them more vividly than Alan Moorehead. The second Unesco Director-General, Moore­ head wrote, has made every effort to adjust himself to the democratic methods of the United States and Western Europe; he has worked to the point where his health broke down, and at those many moments when he could see the way clearly he has forced himself to deal patiently with much lesser characters; to listen to their long arguments, and accept their slow processes of mind. Under that strain, which any expert player must feel when he is among amateurs, he has wanted to resign several times . . . and he has said so semi-privately. But this was more than a game of bridge. He conceived Unesco as a union of na­ tions moving forward to a definite ideal under his leader­ ship—and all one needed was freedom to act along the right lines. . . . He believes Unesco has a great mission

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and ought to have a great reputation. He thinks that men are mad to fiddle about like this when the stake is whether or not you are going to have another war. He wants enthusiasm and he wants money—not criticism of the budget, and cautious little speeches full of national greed.8 So near seemed Unesco effectiveness, and yet so far: "all one needed was freedom to act along the right lines." Senator Benton brought to this 1950 Conference the thoughts he had earlier expressed in the United States. Ben­ ton termed a chimera the view that Unesco might serve as a bridge between East and West. He hinted at alternative U.S. strategies: General Lucius Clay would be given $16,500,000 for American programs of reeducation in Ger­ man. His speech, said a Manchester Guardian reporter, sent Torres Bodet "into the depths of despair."7 Later the Direc­ tor-General issued a warning that "we must take care to become neither auxiliaries nor victims in the disputes by which the world is torn." Yet such disputes seemed inevitable. A Czech motion to supplant the "Kuomintang group" with delegates of the People's Republic of China failed by a vote of 30 to 4 with 13 abstentions. Key supporters of the RepubHc of China delegation held that such matters should be dealt with in more appropriate UN organs than Unesco, leading Sir Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan of India to observe, "When it suits us, we claim that we are the conscience of the United Nations. When it does not suit us, we hand over our con­ science to the United Nations." Executive Board balloting 6Moorehead, "UNESCO Conference Survives a Crisis: The Story Behind Dr. [Torres] Bodet's Withdrawn Resignation," The Scotsman (Edinburgh), 19 June 1950. Paragraphs above also draw on Torres Bodet, "UNESCO—A Personal Faith," Journal of the American Association of University Women, 42 (Summer 1949), pp. 195-97; Karp, p. 126; Huxley, "Unesco: The First Phase," MG, 10 August 1950. 7 "U.S. Intervention Upsets Unesco," 17 June 1950.

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produced neither the re-election of the Polish member (whose government in any case had sent no delegation) nor the election of any other East European person. The Far East would be represented only by Geronima Pecson of the Philippines—the Board's first woman. "Senator Benton had cut a lot of ice," commented the Manchester Guardian, and Torres Bodet was glum. The Gzechoslovakian and Hun­ garian delegates departed before the end of the Conference. Financial means for the new program were getting no more auspicious reception by certain states' delegations. Oificial representatives decried the program's diifuseness without demonstrating the will or capacity to bar projects or reshape the whole. After weeks of criticism, the budget figure for 1951 was voted at $8,200,000. This increased the current budget by only $200,000—yet this budget in turn had been held down during Huxley's lame-duck tenancy in order to await the fresh Director-General's opportunity to take his bearings and plan anew. Commentators belittled the new figure by comparing it with that twice its size hinted for General Clay's use and with $30,000,000 for the Voice of America. These figures strikingly illustrate an of­ ficial U.S. preference for unilateralism. Soon they were overshadowed by the rise in military expenditures accom­ panying U.S. engagement in Korea. Decisive majorities in the Programme and Budget Com­ mission turned back three controversial draft resolutions. One, advanced by the Czech delegation, purported to out­ law atomic bombs; a second, offered by the Belgians, would have convened scientists to consider and report upon the effects of modern warfare; a third, from the Yugoslav dele­ gation, would have invited intellectuals to a congress charged with devising means to mitigate "war psychosis." Unesco's program, under fire for many days, now was de­ fended by some of its previous critics. All the organization's activities were directed toward peace, it was maintained; only by persevering in its ordinary work could Unesco con­ tribute effectively. Most agreed either that the latest propos-

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als were purely propaganda or that they were predestined for counterproductive outcomes. Commission participants moved straight toward a foregone conclusion.8 And Torres Bodet intervened. This was the first time members had shown such una­ nimity about the efficacy of Unesco's program, said the Director-General. If his program merited such acclaim, it also warranted much more substantial support. However, the adopted budget indicated half-heartedness, and the debate immediately preceding suggested downright nega­ tivism. Although he himself still believed in Unesco's prin­ ciples, he doubted the will of other participants. Almost all in the crowded hall then understood him to demand that the Conference look for his successor. The effect was striking. While Torres Bodet retired to his palace on the Arno, delegates communicated with their capitals and conferred with each other. Secretariat members "trotted agitatedly about the corridors saying this was the end of Unesco, this was the end of everything. It was so unexpected." Moorehead continues: To some casts of mind, notably the Anglo-Saxon, resig­ nations of this kind are not in order. A politician who feels his principles challenged resigns—indeed he ought to re­ sign. But a Civil Servant, even one of the new profession [of international] Civil Servants, does not resign. Not at any rate like this, erratically, impulsively, in a hot committee room at the end of a Conference when half the important delegates have gone home. He carries on. He has a contract. He is a professional servant—not a Minister responsible for policy. Others (notably the Lat­ ins) believe the code is the truth as the individual sees it—this, plus a good deal of amour propre. 8 Karp, pp. 80, 153-54; "U.S. Intervention . . Richard Merlin, "Faillite de l'UNESCO," La Nouvelle Critique, 19 (SeptemberOctober 1950), pp. 52-59.

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With official instructions to buttress individual predilec­ tions, delegates pleaded with Torres Bodet to continue. Few if any wished to see him step down, especially when they confronted the prospect of alternatives but dimly foresee­ able. A Manchester Guardian correspondent reported pres­ sures for the Mexican s continuation from the "highest quar­ ters in Washington," pressures which he interpreted as American recognition that other candidates were of British or Commonwealth origin and "the United States would not really like that."9 But Americans were by no means alone in urging Torres Bodet to remain. Within two days the multitude prevailed upon him. In his palatial retreat Torres Bodet had prepared a letter of resignation. Unesco, he wrote, was idling in a world of unrealities. Either it must face up to its immense task of peace or he wanted no more of it. He resented the dele­ gates' nagging, interlarded with their mumbling about great ideals. The letter received little publicity even though it was circulated to the heads of delegations. Soon the matter seemed academic. Towards evening on the second day of the crisis Dr. [Torres] Bodet rose before a record audience in the Pa­ lazzo Pitti, among the chandeliers and the plaster angels, and made a speech in which he said his views remained the same but nevertheless he withdrew his resignation since the delegates unanimously wished it. There was much applause. .. . Nothing really had been decided. Events in Korea narrowed the path still further for Tor­ res Bodet shortly after the Florence General Conference. United States officials requested a special meeting of the Executive Board; for this private meeting both Luther Evans, the Board vice-chairman, and Benjamin Cohen, Asβ

"U.S. Intervention. . . ."

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sistant Secretary-General of the UN in charge of public in­ formation, prepared statements for Unesco endorsement. And differences between the preferences of the United States government and those of the Unesco Director-General, an­ ticipated some Americans, would be differences over pro­ cedure rather than over aim. Torres Bodet moved early by presenting a four-point pro­ posal conforming to his view of Unesco's appropriate limits. This proposal suggested assistance for the civilian populace and in particular the education of refugee children, a pro­ gram of instruction about the United Nations for use by all peoples, a campaign to educate the public in member states upon United Nations action in Korea, and Unesco partici­ pation in the reconstruction of Korea after the end of hos­ tilities. The Cohen and Evans presentations implied other tasks. Unesco should "awaken the conscience of the world with regard to security," said Cohen. This was "the first time that the peoples of the world have faced the realities of collective security," and despite United Nations efforts there remained "a need of organizing further every means of in­ formation" so that "all peoples" might understand the "reasons for the struggle" so obvious to Cohen's particular audience. After Evans' proposals, which ran true to positions assumed by previous U.S. representatives, the Board in closed session adopted a resolution embracing the DirectorGeneral's plan. It added an open-ended commitment to produce and distribute educational materials and to coop­ erate with the UN Secretary-General in assembling relevant documentation on "the United Nations action in Korea." An initial sense of Unesco unanimity on the issue was soon disturbed by reports of French and Indian caveats. At Unesco headquarters a Le Monde commentator detected institutional malaise as Unescans pondered their organiza­ tion's raison d'etre. Should Unesco justify specific political decisions taken in the UN or should it concentrate upon furthering international understanding more generally?

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"Washington," concluded Jacques-Η. Guerif, was "backing Unesco against the wall" and demanding that the institu­ tion "make its choice." Implementation of American initiatives depended upon collaboration by the Unesco Director-General. Torres Bodet was subjected to attack from quarters where he was re­ garded as a tool of American imperialism. But increasingly, also, his reluctance to see Unesco concentrate upon cam­ paigns related to the cold war cooled the fervor of others. In the United States there was a growth of public frustra­ tion with this UN agency which failed to act effectively on a problem with such an obvious solution: that of expos­ ing Communist aggression to all the world.10 At the very time Torres Bodet gained adherents among those moved by his commitment to education, then, he be­ gan to lose the support of those with other priorities. Some, including more than one official in the United Kingdom, thought he was making good progress in focusing the Unesco program. Certainly his twelve-year plan projecting a global network of fundamental education centers at a cost of $20,000,000 met criteria for the skyscraper projects pre­ scribed earlier in abstract terms by Unesco delegate George Stoddard of the United States. As institution and man proved less and less tractable in cold-war undertakings, however, the U.S. government, subgovernmental officials, and a public attentive to foreign affairs grew more and more resistant to Torres Bodet's pleas for increased Unesco budgets. United States leaders had advanced their institu­ tional engagement rather convulsively with an intention of controlling important Unesco policies; now, having failed, they disengaged discernibly if not conclusively on grounds 10 "La Guerre de Coree va-t-elle compromettre l'avenir de l'Unesco?," Le Monde, 6-7 August 1950; Stephen White, "U.S. Acts to Get Help of UNESCO in Korean War," NYHT, 28 July 1950; Dexter, "Defining UNESCO's Role," letter to the editor, NYT, 20 August 1950; Lansing Warren, "UNESCO Heads Meet on Korea Program," NYT, 27 August 1950; "UNESCO Program on Korea is Voted," NYT, 29 August 1950.

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that Unesco had refused to make itself relevant to the "real" world. This critical period brought other significant changes of engagement. Italy entered Unesco easily in 1948; the Re­ public of Korea provoked somewhat greater contention be­ fore it passed the portals of membership in early 1950. The Federal Republic of Germany, Japan, and the Indochinese units—Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam—achieved member­ ship in 1951 following symbolic opposition within the in­ stitution and more vocal protests beyond it. Czechoslovakia, Hungary, and Poland, on the other hand, were disengaging from their original membership. For the moment, at least, the Unesco line-up looked rather like a cold-war alliance. Surely universalism was a becoming credo for executive managers of United Nations organizations, and successive Unesco Directors-General readily espoused this principle. But universalism presented Torres Bodet with certain dif­ ficulties as a doctrine befitting all occasions. Spanish mem­ bership in particular posed an ominous question. In early 1951 the Unesco Executive Board decided to invite the Spanish government to send an observer to the General Conference. From this beginning Spanish membership might have occurred without serious controversy had not several further incidents taken place before the General Conference slated for 1952. The Spanish government, which professed indifference to participation in Unesco, re­ fused entry to a traveling Unesco human rights display, thus summoning dormant Unesco opposition and further offending Torres Bodet. Some people feared a Unesco sec­ retariat purge of Spanish nationals with Republican loyal­ ties if Spain were admitted. The Franco regime aroused scattered headlines when it meted out death sentences to a number of Spanish unionists; the act caused remonstrances by labor leaders the world over. Having implicated Torres Bodet personally in the membership issue by directing a letter to him, the Spanish government sought and received endorsement for Unesco membership by twelve ECOSOC participants. The ECOSOC endorsement was qualified by 5

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negatives (including Mexico's) and 1 abstention in the same principal UN organ. Several Unesco national commissions, notably those of the United States and France, expressed their opposition to Franco Spain. Albert Camus and other European intellectuals addressed personal appeals to Torres Bodet. On the eve of the Unesco decision, Pablo Casals and Salvador de Madariaga, noted Spanish citizens in exile, announced the severance of their relationships with Unescoassociated activities. Only government participants now seemed to favor admission. In November 1952, following a successful French motion to forbid debate, and while pro­ testors threw leaflets at the Paris meeting, Spain was voted in by 44-4-7. The mode of entry could hardly fail to deal a blow to Torres Bodet's equanimity. But this was only one of several blows in rapid succession. During 1952 Unesco's permanent headquarters site pre­ sented another question. The French first proposed a site in the Place de Fontenoy, then reneged for a time on grounds that the building's projected height of seventeen stories would violate restrictions set by city officials. In the meantime a location was suggested near Porte Dauphine and the Bois de Boulogne. This plan in turn was scored by Jean Grousseaud, a Paris city councilman who demanded an investigation of the project to determine whether such buildings, "placed so close to Paris, would not deface the landscape." Shortly before the 1952 General Conference, a Paris building committee rejected the combination of plans and site, issuing a statement that the design looked "like a Notre Dame built of radiators." On 22 November—a date also producing a Unesco decision of further significance— the French government informed Torres Bodet that it would have to withdraw its offer of space near Porte Dauphine.11 11 "Paris Site for UNESCO Proposed," NYT, 26 July 1952; "U.N. Paris Building Protested," NYT, 16 October 1952; "Paris Bars a Sky­ scraper For U.N. to Preserve View," NYT, 2 November 1952; "Paris Cancels Site Offer," NYT, 23 November 1952; Janet Flanner, "Letter from Paris," New Yorker, 29 November 1952, p. 134.

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Torres Bodet had advised the Executive Board during the spring of 1952 that a budget of $9,895,029 for 1953, meaning an increase of $1,267,029, would be necessary merely to continue activities at their current level. He stated several times that he wanted a strengthened program rather than a stabilized one. To the contention by Board Programme Commission chairman Luther Evans (United States) that Unesco should emphasize "program foci," the Director-General responded favorably, but also recalled a General Conference mandate on behalf of a program bal­ anced among responsibilities already undertaken. Torres Bodet unhappily received the prediction by Board Finance Commission chairman Frans Bender of the Netherlands that members might resist any increases in assessment. That prediction, however, proved true. In his 1952 General Conference presentation of a twoyear budget figure of $20,691,306, the Director-General warned against "settling down to our limitations." Programs must expand if Unesco were to advance. To achieve both expansion and advancement, he said, "we shall need addi­ tional resources. I think it would be very dangerous to suppose that these could be obtained simply by redistrib­ uting the limited funds at present in our possession." Sev­ eral delegations demurred. The group representing Britain, supported by delegates from the United States, called for a budget freeze at the 1952 level, or a biennial total of $17,346,000. An "economy bloc," as the New York Times editorially dubbed eleven caucusing delegations from af­ fluent states, subsequently set a compromise figure of $18,000,000 gross, with $16,866,354 slated for expenditure. This amount was approved in plenary by a vote of 29 to 21, with 4 abstentions. It was, as chief U.S. delegate Howland Sargent insisted, a budget figure "democratically ar­ rived at." Such was the rhetoric of the 1950s. On 22 November, the day French officials withdrew the offer of a headquarters site, Torres Bodet took the rostrum. Speaking quietly but with great emotion, he stated that in-

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flation, the unavailability of certain reserve funds earlier available, and the Conference decision just taken to meet in Montevideo two years hence combined to make the ap­ proved budget even lower than the current one. "You had the choice of three possibilities: regression, stabilization, and development. You have chosen regression." He ex­ pressed his dismay that this momentous decision had been taken by a close vote, and imputed to certain members "a lack of desire to see Unesco develop." "You will under­ stand," he continued, "that I cannot be a party to such a measure which implies, of necessity, an unfavorable judg­ ment, either of the organization or of those who serve it." He tendered his resignation. Despite entreaties by Profes­ sor Jean Piaget of Switzerland and Jose Manuel Mora Vasquez of Colombia, pleading Unesco obligations to its less fortunate members, neither the leaders of the economy bloc nor Torres Bodet gave way. The meeting recessed in what one onlooker described as "confusion and consterna­ tion." Torres Bodet gathered his secretariat associates the following day and urged them, too, to resign. Three days later, as conferees reassembled, Sefior Torres Bodet took his leave in Spanish rather than the French to which Unescans had become accustomed. His departure, he said, was comforted by the knowledge that he had done his duty toward member governments and "in some degree my duty toward the peoples who throughout the world are hoping for economic, social, and cultural progress that will ensure their liberties under the rule of justice." Amid applause and some tears he bid adios and walked out of the hall.12 Some, notably individuals associated with Unesco's finan­ cial matters, blamed his resignation on the Spanish ques­ tion. A few Anglo-Saxons, pointing to Torres Bodet's re­ version from French to his national language, said that the 12 Henry Giniger, "UNESCO Head Resigns Post In Protest Over Budget Cut," NYT, 23 November 1952; "UNESCO on Short Rations," NYT editorial, 28 November 1952; "UNESCO May Seek Additional Funds," NYT, 27 November 1952.

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reason was the headquarters matter. Most thought it was the budget slash. More likely, these issues were fused in the man's perception of other participants' weak and expediential commitment to an agency for which he had sacrificed national status, personal honor, and, according to one close Unesco associate, the sight of one eye. Soon afterwards he wrote in "Al hermano posible" ("To a possible brother"): Perhaps you, whose name I do not know because I only vaguely foresee you, will conclude the interrupted experience. Spanish admission and Torres Bodet's resignation led swiftly to other disengagements. Chairman Paulo de Berredo Carneiro and Vladislav Ribnikar left the Executive Board. Belgian delegate Marcel Florkin departed from the General Conference. Individual members of national com­ missions withdrew in Europe and the Americas. On the European continent some intellectuals, encouraged by Denis de Rougemont, turned their attention to the Council of Europe. Thereafter they devoted more time to the uniting of Europe and less to the spreading of European civiliza­ tion through Unesco. Other men filled their places in Unesco. In the aftermath of these events, representatives of sixteen Latin American states met and decided to form a caucusing group that in future, it was announced, would present a solid front in Unesco. One spokesman indicated that, among other common interests, caucus members wanted the new Director-General to be selected from a Latin American state. Berredo Carneiro of Brazil was hailed as an apt suc­ cessor to Torres Bodet.13 Torres Bodet's position had in­ duced a great outpouring of pride. His departure suggested more than the propriety of simple justice to a slighted re­ gion. Some delegates wanted a prompt choice of the next 13 "UNESCO Seeks to End 'Crisis' Over Director," NY T, 25 No­ vember 1952; "UNESCO To Meet Today," NY T, 26 November 1952.

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Director-General. Others preferred to wait either until the air of crisis had subsided or until a man fitting their speci­ fications could be found. In the absence of immediate con­ sensus, the latter contingent prevailed. John W. Taylor, who had succeeded Walter H. C. Laves as the American nearest the Director-General, became Acting DirectorGeneral. John Taylor, former president of the University of Ken­ tucky, had served for a time as chief of the Education and Religion Branch of the United States Military Government in Germany. Associates found him easy-going, plain-spoken, competent. Few saw in him either a man with blurred na­ tional identity or a zealous ideologue of the cold war. He appears to have harbored no illusions about Unesco's ef­ ficacy for global security. That the atmosphere permeating Unesco House grew no more miasmic during his direction stands as a tribute to his composure, for elements were astir which could have rendered the Unesco atmosphere even more noxious. The trial of Alger Hiss led to a widespread belief that Communists occupied high official American positions, and that they exercised sufficient transnational control to cause the loss of China and both the aggression and the miscar­ riage of victory in Korea. Senator Joseph McCarthy said that Communists infested the U.S. Department of State. In 1952, aspirants to and members of both houses of Congress investigated the possibility that related institutions had been infiltrated with similar design and effect. Political appetites were sharpened when a special Federal Grand Jury in New York received several refusals by American members of the UN secretariat to answer questions about previous links with the Communist Party. Just before the opening of the 1952 UN General Assembly, and three weeks before election day, the Internal Security Subcommittee of the U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee opened public hearings in New York on the activities of United States citizens employed in the United Nations.

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Faced with this situation, Trygve Lie "combined vigorous insistence upon recognition of the principle that he was answerable only to the United Nations for the exercise of his functions, with discreet acceptance of the political neces­ sity of regaining American confidence in the administration of the secretariat." First he boldly declared his autonomy. Having protested that he was independent, Lie fired those in question who held temporary contracts. American Com­ munists were not representative American citizens. Individ­ uals who refused to testify "tended under the circumstances to discredit the secretariat as a whole, to cast suspicion on all the staff—and, still more serious, imperil the position of the Organization in the host country." Lie also dismissed the individuals with permanent contracts whose silence pro­ duced "suspicion of guilt." His action came only days after the Federal Grand Jury's report alluding to "an overwhelm­ ingly large group of disloyal United States citizens" in the secretariat (but remaining barren of indictments).14 In Unesco, where John Taylor's appointment had just been formalized, the impact was considerable. Aside from further effects upon staff morale, it set up precedents which would be difficult to avoid, even in a different host country, by an executive manager in any way beholden to the United States. Nor were these the only signs of foreboding. Lie complained that he had acquired little official U.S. guid­ ance upon original applicants and only tardy one-word di­ rectives such as "questionable" and "reject" since 1949. A Department of State domestically on the defensive soon began to barrage the United Nations and its affiliated agen­ cies, including Unesco, with lists of employed individuals who had received adverse comments in their loyalty re­ ports. U.S. representatives in Unesco and elsewhere pro­ posed changes to tighten the clearance process for Ameri14 Inis

L. Claude, Jr., Swords Into Plowshares (revised ed.; New York: Random House, 1971), pp. 203ff.; John G. Stoessinger, The United Nations and the Superpowers (revised ed.; New York: Random House, 1970), pp. 40ff.

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can candidates wishing international employment. In New York, U.S. investigators actually entered United Nations buildings to check on suspect American citizens. Early in 1953 the Unesco Executive Board decided to in­ stitute a questionnaire for all employees. American citizens would be asked to complete a U.S. Civil Service form; it was maintained that refusal would not justify termination of employment. However, the permanent U.S. representa­ tive released a "progress report" to all American employees containing the threat of Congressional refusal to vote fur­ ther Unesco appropriations unless the "loyalty situation" were resolved. U.S. Senator Pat McCarran introduced a bill promising severe fines or imprisonment for Americans who held or accepted UN employment without a loyalty check. Two members of Senator McCarthy's staff came to Paris, where they sought unsuccessfully—having tried Unesco House during a weekend—to talk with Taylor. Though without obvious direct effect, these pressures were not without consequence. Although Taylor declined to remove individuals by estimating that they were 'likely to" undertake "subversive activities," as specified by a State Department letter of February 1953, two employees lacking permanent contracts were let go, and David Leff, a U.S. citizen, was relieved of official responsibility. Leff's passport had been revoked some years earlier without stated reason and he had been summoned to appear before the New York Federal Grand Jury. He refused to travel to the United States on the grounds that he might be unable to return to family and job; thereupon he was suspended. Unescans responded with the tactics and resources they could muster. The Unesco Staff Association, created some years earlier by individuals strongly imbued with the ideals of postwar internationalism, sensed a cause celebre. Be­ cause similar pressures threatened individuals in all organ­ izational units of the United Nations, organizers found it possible to establish a Federation of International Civil

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Servants Associations. FICSA retained Senator Henri Rollin, a Belgian jurist, to prepare briefs on behalf of affected staff members. For months the New Statesman provided a focus to those supporting the rights of international civil serv­ ants.15 The Unesco Executive Board's sanctioning of ques­ tionnaires was said to cast this body into the part of a Pontius Pilate and Unesco into that of a common informer for the political police of every state. McCarrans bill gave rise to the estimation that Senator McCarthy and his allies wanted "to castrate the United Nations . . . and make it the kept eunuch of Republican foreign policy." On 1 September 1953, the UN Administrative Tribunal held for a number of discharged UN secretariat members; failing reinstatement, these individuals ultimately received financial settlements. This form of decision too became a precedent for Unesco. In a report covering the interval from November 1952 to April 1953, the Acting Director-General highlighted problems of maintaining program continuity within a reduced budget and reconciling international duties with national and professional obligations. The period, said Taylor, "was productive of many difficulties." His brief stint as executive manager could be little more than a holding action while Unescans awaited fairer winds. This was the situation which the new Director-General would inherit. Who he would be remained undecided in the early months of 1953. Berredo Carneiro continued as one contender; his love of French culture perhaps contributed to his support by the home government. He aroused less enthusiasm among certain other members of the economy bloc who suspected him of expansionist tendencies. His candidacy faded further when a fellow Brazilian, Dr. Marcolino Gomes Candau, became governments' choice as Di­ rector-General of the World Health Organization. For a 15 See, e.g., "Loyalty in Unesco," 45 ( 25 April 1953), p. 474; "Storm Signals at Unesco," 45 ( 20 June 1953), p. 719; and letters in issues of 9 May 1953, 23 May 1953, 30 May 1953.

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time official Washington and some Latin Americans favored Charles Mahk of Lebanon; France and the United King­ dom, in a period of low amity with Arab governments and their UN representatives, did not. Those most familiar with his competence continued to ask about the availability of Sir John Maud. Clarence Beeby likewise was regarded for a time as a desirable alternative, as was M. Errera of Bel­ gium. For varying reasons of personal choice by candidates and official choices by others, none of these possibilities worked out, and the Executive Board adjourned in April 1953 without a nominee. A new candidacy appeared most unobtrusively at first. Ben W. Huebsch, vice-president of Viking Press and, in a contemporary identification by Publishers' Weekly, the man who "represents the book industry on the United States National Commission" for Unesco, wrote a European friend to ask what he and others would think of a "good American" as Director-General. Initially his correspondent thought Huebsch meant Taylor; shortly it developed that he meant Luther Evans. With the Executive Board's closed deliberations still in deadlock, the Evans candidacy emerged, first among indi­ vidual participants outside the private sessions, then abrupt­ ly following a recess for refreshments. Some maintain to this day that Evans nominated himself. He was "frightfully nervy," reported one onlooker. Another said that he en­ couraged others to put forward his name and remained silent when reservations were offered because of the McCarthyite temper in the United States. Certainly he could not have been designated without the support of his col­ leagues, and they provided this designation, as well as an end to their stalemate and to their embarrassment at saying no to a club member. Although some last-minute General Conference opposition developed within a few delegations, Unesco plenary delegates followed the Board's lead by electing Evans "over the dead body of the State Depart-

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ment":16 Evans, from the vantage point of the new U.S. government, was an accidental Director-General. Luther Evans was born in 1902 at his grandmother's farm near Sayers, Texas, to Lillie Johnson and George Washing­ ton Evans. His father was a section foreman for the Mis­ souri, Kansas, and Texas Railway. Luther had 8 younger brothers and sisters; he divided his time between helping to care for them, performing farm chores, and attending the one-teacher school near his home. After his tenth-grade year, Evans entered Bastrop High School, a year later graduating first in his class of 7. He then attended the University of Texas, where he majored in political science, minored in economics, participated in the debating society, and served as assistant issue editor of the student news­ paper. He remained in Austin for an M.A. degree in political economy, then went to Europe for a summer to study the governments of Great Britain, France, and Switzerland. Re­ turning from Geneva study and European travels, he took his Ph.D. in political science and modern history at Stan­ ford University. His thesis examined the mandates auspices of the League of Nations. He served as an instructor at the University of Texas, at Stanford, and at universities in other parts of the United States. In 1935, Evans was named director of the Historical Records Survey of the Works Progress Administration. Suc­ cess here led to his appointment by the Librarian of Con­ gress, Archibald MacLeish, as director of the Legislative Reference Service. In 1945, the year of his book The Virgin 16 The Conference vote was 39 in favor, 17 opposed. This account relies in part upon "Le Comite Executif de l'Unesco . . . ," Le Monde, 9 April 1953; Ben W. Huebseh, "What the Bookseller Can Do to Further UNESCO's Aims," Publishers' Weekly, 157 (24 June 1950), pp. 2714-16; "New Director-General of Unesco," The Times, 2 July 1953; Don Cook, "American is Elected by UNESCO," NYHT, 2 July 1953; James Marshall, "Ten Years of UNESCO," Saturday Review, 40 (9 February 1957), p. 22.

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Islands from Naval Base to New Deal and of his attendance at the London conference constituting Unesco, he suc­ ceeded MacLeish. It was the first time since the Civil War that this position had been filled from the ranks of the Library of Congress's own staff. Evans was praised by the Washington Star at the time of his elevation as "a self-made success" who "came up the hard way, earning every advancement in terms of labors of mind and body." His manner was described as that of "a brisk, businesslike executive" who "might be taken for a small-town merchant." Library Journal saw in him "a prac­ tical talent for getting things done" and found his dominant trait "an open frankness, tempered with a human idealism." Evans admitted that he had been nobody's choice as Li­ brarian of Congress but said that he was the second choice on more lists than anyone else had been. By contemporary lights, the Library of Congress task was both vast and vital. "Important items are translated and furnished immediately to the State Department and other interested officials," he had told a wartime interviewer. "Maybe the War Department wants to know where in Osaka are the aircraft factories. We'll furnish the informa­ tion. We even made a study of the manpower resources of Japan, the water resources of Morocco, rainfall in Burma, and manpower in Germany." Evans anticipated an equally challenging peacetime undertaking. Like MacLeish, he wanted a large-scale interlibrary lending system. And he brought to the Library directorship the institutional pride mustered only by those who give unstintingly of themselves. "The Library of Congress," he said, "is a great factory on the frontier of knowledge. It is complete [ly] up to date." Available indications point to Evans' popularity among his fellows at the Library of Congress. Library Journal re­ ported upon the occasion of his promotion that "there is not one member of its staff who will not tell you that he has always been able to arrange an appointment, even on short notice, if requested. Be the staff member's problem official

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or personal, he has always been ready to discuss it fully."17 Evans was to identify himself with this style at his subse­ quent post in Paris. He had convinced himself that open and adept interpersonal staff relations offered a key to his success. Success carried political overtones. His years in Washing­ ton brought acquaintances with practicing politicians. He worked vigorously for civil liberties causes, more than once assuming a courageous stand similar to that of liberal ele­ ments in the Democratic Party. Prior to his election as Unesco Director-General he had become active in the U.S. National Commission, which he served as vice-chairman and as chairman, and upon the Executive Board, where he toiled from 1949 onward and served as an officer. An ac­ quaintance of this period recounts how during a cocktail party in the suburbs of Paris the back-slapping Evans was told that he had missed his calling: he should have become governor of the state of Texas. Evans, it is said, replied, "I might just do that yet." In the meantime—some five months after the change of government in Washington—he ascended another rung on the ladder. "Huxley believed in science, Torres Bodet in education, Evans in [pause] Evans," said a Unescan some years later. The Texas farm boy had no false pride in his intelligence or learning, only a faith in hard work aided by his royal memory and a belief in personal methods tried and found good. The latter conviction animated Evans' attempt to re­ vive comity within a demoralized secretariat. "When I came in," he said in substance many years later, I [got the secretariat together and] told them that I wanted them to [let me know what they wished]. That it was all right to go out and . .. politick for the program. I made it a point to go down to the division chiefs and let them know that I treasured their observations. I let it 17 Current

Biography, 1945, ed. Anna Rothe (New York: Wilson, 1946), pp. 174-76.

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be known that I would never cut a department without a hearing. I made it known that I had no [qualms about] bringing in a man with more ability [in a given area] than I had, that I would not be jealous of him. More than one director "got his ducks all lined up" for a budget victory graciously accepted by the Director-General or, to the astonishment of everyone save Evans, found him­ self hauled before the Executive Board to offer his side of a disagreement with his superior. Without question secre­ tariat members far down the line appreciated the access they found to the topmost level and its chief occupant— the more so later during different styles of executive man­ agement. But these, unfortunately, were not the crucial questions thrown up by the times. "You know what I think," a secretariat associate says the new Director-General was told on the day he was elected. "Yourve let yourself in for a peck of troubles." Some of these troubles were the result of prior Executive Board decisions on personnel matters, decisions in which Evans, then the member of American nationality, had participated. Not all the troubles had yet become evident. Evans did what he could and perhaps what, under the circumstances, he had to do. The extraordinary plenary session that confirmed Evans at the same time formally deferred for the regular General Conference of 1954 any major personnel policy decisions. Some observers detected a tendency by governmental par­ ticipants to accept official American demands in principle. Others thought the Paris-based institution better placed than the United Nations to take a stand that would prevent the further erosion of international civil service. Evans' earlier uprightness and his fortitude were recalled. He promised judgment on the basis of the facts. He would, above all, be his own man. But Evans also implied that his positions would take into account the political atmosphere, including leads by the UN Secretary-General in New York.

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By 1954, another year of U.S. electoral decisions, Amer­ ican investigators were hunting more aggressively abroad for political sorcerers to exhibit before their publics at home. Swiss officials barred on-site inspection at UN units in Geneva and elsewhere. The government of France did not. A loyalty board representing the U.S. executive branch junketed to Paris to exploit State Department tips. Several American secretariat members refused to appear before it. Evans announced that four with temporary contracts would not have them renewed and that the status of others with indefinite contracts would await the guidelines to be set by the General Conference in Montevideo. This was a compromise that antagonized onlookers in all quarters. The New Statesman criticized Evans for under­ mining the concept of an international civil service and "destroying the morale and integrity of the Organisation he directs." On the other hand, UN Ambassador Henry Cabot Lodge, speaking on behalf of the U.S. government scarcely three weeks before election day, denounced Evans for not acting immediately in all cases to get suspect Americans off "the international payroll." The Unesco Director-General already had the necessary power; other UN agencies had "been handling the loyalty problem in a 'fine' way." Evans' behavior was said to be creating bad public feeling toward Unesco in the United States. Several Unesco staff members eventually lost their posi­ tions, appealed to the ILO Tribunal, won their cases, and received financial awards. Evans later lamented that this settlement put a crimp in Unesco resources during a critical period. These decisions were hardly so inconsequential, however, as Evans himself surely realized.18 18 "Evans Cites UNESCO Rule," NYT, 6 August 1953; "Purge at Unesco," New Statesman, 28 August 1954, p. 222; A. M. Rosenthal, "UNESCO Head Criticized By Lodge on Loyalty Cases," NYT, 17 October 1954; "Cases Still Open, UNESCO Head Says," and "Mes­ sage to Milwaukee," NYT, 17 October 1954; Claude Julien, "La

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"He was Unesco's first realist," a colleague said of Luther Evans. Neither before nor after his selection as DirectorGeneral does Evans seem to have doubted that governments were the ones who made Unesco choices. On the occasion of the institution's tenth anniversary he stated that Unesco is definitely an intergovernmental organization, subject to the limitations and procedures inherent in of­ ficial action, but firmly based on the machinery of gov­ ernment within our Member States including the Na­ tional Commissions. This is the touchstone of our future success and greatness, and indeed of many of our present modest achievements. [Of course, the institution aids and is assisted by intellectuals and nongovernmental organ­ izations.] The fact remains that Unesco works for its Member States, that it works largely through the gov­ ernments of Member States, and that its success or failure in any Member State is a direct outcome of the degree of understanding and support it enjoys on the part of the government of that State. Evans fancied himself an administrator at the service of these governments "on a basis of complete equality and impartiality."19 The concern over lack of serious commitment by member governments was by no means a new theme, but in 19531954 it received direct attention by Unescans. Focus was provided by the Executive Board, partly at the urging of Italian member and future Director-General Vittorino Veronese, though also with the willing cooperation of Evans. At Veronese's suggestion the Board met privately in November 1953 and emerged from its conversations with a memorandum of intentions to engender closer relations 'chasse aux sorcieres' a l'ONU et a l'Unesco," parts ι and n, Le Monde, 19 and 20 November 1954; "Who Rules Unesco," Times Educatiorwl Supplement (TES), 24 June 1955, p. 692. 19 "The Lessons of Experience," UC, 3 (January-February 1957), p. 12.

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with member states and with national commissions. The Director-General set out to show his institution's standard in many capitals. Evans liked to travel; he boasted of having been everywhere "except Mongolia." To a German audience he uttered a few amusing words in the native language, and in one corner of the British Isles he told listeners that as a man of Welsh descent from the Lone Star State he looked upon Wales as the Texas of the United Kingdom. It was in New Delhi early in 1954 that his travels made the greatest impression. At a gathering greeted by Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru and attended by representatives of ten other Asian states and Egypt, the Director-General was told that their peoples were not being given adequate Unesco assistance. Western advances in education and the natural sciences would help them; in turn, the abiding values of Eastern culture or cultures might help others. Unesco should serve to effect exchange or reallocation of values. Evans replied that Unesco was not a ministry of education. But upon his return to Paris, he expressed deter­ mination to do something about participation by these governments. He had been astounded not only at obvious need but at the seeming inability of governments even to present their requests for assistance properly. The Indian message urged that the Soviet Union and China become members of Unesco. Though Evans held that Chinese membership was a 'political" question, the Unesco Director-General responded that the U.S.S.R., already a United Nations participant, could join Unesco by a stroke of the pen. Less than three months later Evans received a letter from Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov expressing the Soviet Unions intention to join. Soon membership for­ malities were completed for the U.S.S.R., the Byelorussian S.S.R., and the Ukrainian S.S.R.20 Evans welcomed the new­ comers with a news conference and a call at the Soviet em­ bassy in The Hague, where official delegations from the 2° We take up the Soviet turnabout from nonengagement in chapter

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three attended their first Unesco meetings. These additional participants would contribute over $1,000,000 annually to the current Unesco budget, he noted. Evans stated that he planned to visit Moscow. Soviet entry soon brought the reengagement of Czechoslovakia, Hungary, and Poland. It led subsequently to membership by Bulgaria, Rumania, and Albania. Now the nature of Unesco began to change, and with this break toward universality a potentiality for more effective action began to grow. Governments first neglected Unesco, then in a few years they "came in with a vengeance," remarked a veteran of institutional action. General Conference delegations re­ flected this change. James Marshall, a citizen active in New York City educational reform and a General Conference delegate, recalled on Unesco's tenth anniversary that in the beginning there had been many scientists, scholars, univer­ sity presidents, and writers among the Conference dele­ gates; now there were "more government technicians." Be­ fore, "we spoke of people speaking to people'," he said; in 1956, especially during the high tension of the Suez and Hungary crises, he saw "government officials . . . posturing before government officials."21 The Executive Board exhibited a trend seen variously as growth of official interest or growth of governmental en­ croachment. Perceptive onlookers had long suspected that some Board members, notwithstanding the constitutional injunction that they serve "on behalf of the Conference as a whole and not as representatives of their respective Gov­ ernments," were speaking precisely for these governments. Indeed, one close observer of the Board estimated that those suspected of governmental spokesmanship were accorded the most attentive hearing. By implication he referred to secretariat listeners no less than Board colleagues. Official national difficulties in reconciling an uninstructed Board member with an instructed Conference delegation addition­ ally encouraged the gradual change-over to governmental 21 Marshall, "Ten Years of UNESCO," p. 32.

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spokesmanship. Thus the United States government, accord­ ing to a high American official, would dispatch its Board member to Washington and "brief the hell out of [him] to try to get [him] to see things the State Department way." Evans' Board colleagues, for instance, seem not to have distinguished his role as Librarian of Congress from that of his government. For years the fagade of nongovemmentalism stood de­ spite its widening fissures. The French steadfastly defended this principle and others continued to endorse it publicly. Archibald MacLeish had spoken for many when in 1951 he said that Unesco held "the responsibility for civilization it­ self' and hence that its Executive Board members should serve as "individual human beings" rather than as the in­ struments of governments within a split world. In time, however, even principle tumbled. Britain, whose R. A. Butler had reportedly stated in 1945 that Unesco must not become purely the plaything of governments, pro­ posed some four years later that Executive Board members should represent their governments—a suggestion that failed to receive a Conference second. By 1954 the U.S. had officially shifted to the same position; this change swung enough others to bring a charter amendment. Some justified the amendment by the new schedule to hold Conferences biennially: with less frequent plenary meetings, it was said, more interim Board responsibility was desirable. This shift was "the price for financial support," said a man who left the Unesco secretariat about the same time. France's Roger Seydoux predicted that with this change "the Finance Min­ istries . . . would become masters of Unesco and its pro­ gramme."22 Others felt encouraged that Unesco now was better fitted to mirror the world beyond institutional bound­ aries. Governmentalization of the secretariat revealed pressures 22 "MacLeish Discusses Role," NYT, 11 May 1951; Seydoux, 25EX/ SRlO (1951), quoted by WiEiam R. Pendergast, "French Policy in UNESCO," Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1971, p. 167.

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from United States spokesmen. Other governments also ex­ ercised control over the flow of their nationals into the Unesco staff. At the same time, governments sought posts within the secretariat that they deemed influential or for other reasons useful. No genuine opposition to a governmentalized secretariat arose from the newly engaging Unesco members, who appeared more concerned to achieve their nations' shares of a multinational staff than to fulfill a more rarefied ideal of international impartiality. Indian represen­ tatives decried the under-representation of Asia. In 1958 the Soviet Union threatened to stop its Unesco payments unless more Soviet citizens attained high positions. The Unesco secretariat, always a channel de facto for the ex­ pression of governmental preferences, now became more widely recognized as such. Membership by Socialist polities and the Board's formal modification, changes highlighting the trend toward closer governmental control of Unesco policy making, prompted a wise mid-decade report by ex-secretariat member Clar­ ence Beeby to his New Zealand government: Whatever the future holds, it is certain that, from now on, Unesco will be of greater significance to politicians as well as to scholars. In the past there has been an unreality about some of its work [but] the time is past when Unesco can be lightly dismissed because it deals only with ideas. Just because it deals with ideas, and because it now has members holding conflicting ideas over which nations are willing to go to war, Unesco can be the most useful, as it could be the most dangerous, of all the Spe­ cialized Agencies. It can never again be ignored.23 But Beeby could not foresee how various governments and other Unesco participants would respond to the higher stakes. The governments of some large affluent nation-state members deployed national spokesmen more deeply in the 23 Quoted

by Laves and Thomson, p. 367.

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institution's organs in order to limit their material liabilities and moral vulnerabilities. This was not, of course, a uni­ form posture of participant governments. Nor was such a defensive stance fully descriptive of behavior by every highranking secretariat official from the Great Powers. Luther Evans believed strongly that Unesco must con­ centrate its program commitments. Others thought promi­ nent new undertakings the best way to achieve such a focus. The Florence General Conference of 1950 extended en­ dorsement in principle to large special projects financed from outside the regular Unesco budget. At Montevideo in 1954, such a plenary meeting, augmented and modified in its composition by new governmental members, recognized the possibility of concentrating Unesco efforts upon what were called major projects. Evans and future DirectorsGeneral Veronese and Rene Maheu all played parts in for­ mulating this notion, the former two in their respective roles as leaders of secretariat and Board, the latter as staff author of an important paper. Maheu hailed the Montevideo General Conference resolution that authorized major proj­ ects as confirmation of "a new conception of the Organiza­ tion's work."24 Actual project proposals were initiated by the Unesco secretariat and by governments. Evans acted as judge, as he later put it, of innovations advanced by others. The Exec­ utive Board reduced major project proposals from four to three, deferring (or, given the single occurrence of Unesco major projects, eliminating) one intended to pre­ pare basic reading materials for new literates. At New Delhi in 1956 the General Conference formally approved remaining major project designs. Although the terms of reference for selecting major projects included a wish for interdisciplinary and interdepartmental cooperation, actual 24 Maheu, "Major Projects," UC, 1 (October 1955) pp. 3-8; Sathyamurthy, pp. 122f., 127-28.

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projects centered in the departments of education, science, and cultural activities. By 1956, the year during which certain projects would be designated major projects, educational programming had undergone several experiments with mixed results. The pilot projects in Haiti and elsewhere failed because of in­ adequate preparation and insufficient support from the host government and other Unesco participants—not to mention the unpropitious natural conditions of the MarbiaI Valley. Educational missions to Afghanistan and to other request­ ing members opened the way to further innovation, much of it during Evans' tenure. To the Executive Board in June 1949, Beeby had broached a proposal for training teachers within indigenous areas as a first step toward reducing illiteracy. The matter was put off on grounds of lack of funds. Throughout 1950, Guillermo Nannetti, director of the Inter-American Commission on Primary Education, in­ sisted on the need for combating illiteracy in Latin America and for teacher training as a means toward his ends. "If we want to act effectively upon the new generation, which con­ stitutes the world of the future, and upon the great masses of the present," he told the Unesco Executive Board, "we shall have to act upon the teachers." Under the auspices of the Organization of American States (OAS), Unesco, and the Mexican government, a small center was prepared for training teachers of fundamental education. This was the setting for Torres Bodet's initiative outlining a world network of regional fundamental education centers. He foresaw centers in Latin America, the Middle East, India, the Far East, and Equatorial Africa. During an initial twelve-year period these centers would be financed from the regular Unesco budget ($1,600,000), UN technical as­ sistance ($4,000,000), member states in proportion to their regular assessments ($6,400,000), and voluntary contribu­ tions from governments, NGOs, foundations, and individ­ uals ($8,000,000). With the President of Mexico, Torres Bodet inaugurated the first fundamental education center

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(CREFAL) at Patzcuaro on 9 May 1951. An Arab states' fundamental education center (ASFEC) at Sirs-el-Layyan, Egypt, followed it. Smaller related efforts were attempted in Thailand (for research and training in child development and later for teacher training in rural areas) and in Pakistan (for teaching materials). Soon Unesco's commitment toward centers for funda­ mental education waned. Unescans hardly talked about lit­ eracy in this context after the departure of Torres Bodet, remarked his successor upon a later occasion. Evans cared more for secondary and technical education. Other modes of educational action succeeded plans for fundamental edu­ cation centers. At Geneva in 1951 a conference of educators sponsored jointly by BIE and Unesco resolved to ask that ministers of education prolong free compulsory education for their constituents. The conference also requested the In­ ternational Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD) to consider long-term loans for expanding the necessary educational systems. Conferences on compulsory education followed in Bombay (1952), where IBRD again was invited to lend its resources to the extension of educa­ tion, and in Cairo (1954-1955). These promotional efforts would bear fruit from IBRD several years later. In Latin America, planners already stood upon a higher level of ex­ pectation. Unesco joined regional organizations in spon­ soring several meetings looking toward free and compulsory primary education throughout the Americas. For a time it seemed that the Middle East might rival the Western Hemisphere in mobilizing for education. A meet­ ing comparable to that of the Latin Americans was mooted for representatives of Middle Eastern states, but difficulties immediately arose. If the Israelis were invited, the Arab governments would not attend. And if only the Arab states were included, who should act as host for the conference— Egypt or Iraq? Thus the major project for education fell to Latin Amer­ ica. Although Evans preferred training of other kinds, he

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admitted that primary education was "good propaganda." Unesco was authorized to provide experts, award travel grants, organize research studies, supply information and documentation, establish a limited number of professorships and fellowships, support selected research projects, and ex­ tend financial assistance to the Inter-American Rural Nor­ mal School at Rubio, Venezuela.25 Science offered its major project in more straightforward fashion. Pierre Auger, a strong successor to Joseph Needham, had decided by the time of his move from Exec­ utive Board to secretariat in 1948 that financial aid to non­ governmental organizations and regional centers was hardly sufficient to advance science as much as he and others wished. Thus he set out to orchestrate a coherent sequence leading to larger returns. Auger, whom fellow scientists associated with the phenomenon of "Auger showers" where­ by a single powerful particle was credited with influencing the motion of cosmic rays over a wide area, contributed to the doctrinal synthesis of Unesco aims at the same time that he promoted his own specialty. "Some people," he said, "think you can attain peace by crying 'Peace! Peace!' but this leads to nothing. .. . You must start obliquely—creating proper conditions, using civilizing influences. A good starter is weaving scientists into the international pattern, since they already have a fund of ideas in common, speak the same language, and like being with each other." Auger was capable of a threat to resign if the science budget were sliced arbitrarily. From Needham's tenancy he inherited, strengthened, and utilized a constituency of scientific inter­ ests. "When one of the science advisory committees decides that UNESCO ought to take particular actions in science," wrote Luther Evans, "the Director-General usually takes the 25 Karp, pp. 160ff.; Laves and Thomson, pp. 172ff.; Kotschnig, "Education, Science, and Culture," pp. 558-59; "Illiteracy: Prime Problem of Education in New World," CSM, 25 October 1950; "Fu­ ture of Unesco," The Times, 20 November 1950.

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recommendation seriously, because he knows that the scien­ tists concerned are likely to have enough delegate votes in the next General Conference to defeat him if he opposes the recommendation."28 Perhaps most important, Auger had an acute sense of timing and the courage to turn back un­ wanted or unprepared project proposals. Auger animated Unesco arid zones research soon after taking his secretariat position. The project was prepared by advisory committees, NGOs, research institutes, and Unesco publicity. Early in 1950, Ritchie Calder set out on a seven-week, 5,500-mile exploration of the arid regions. This journey, traced by countless followers on specially pre­ pared maps showing the remote research stations visited, promoted an Interim Council for Research in the Arid Zones. Late in 1950, plenary action resolved the principle of making desert recovery a world priority. The Interim Council became the International Council for Research in the Arid Zones. Aided by an Advisory Committee on Arid Zone Research, Auger and other Unesco scientists guided their project through symposia and other international meetings before the middle 1950s campaign upon concentration. Hydrology and water supply were addressed during one year. Next came plant ecology, a topic that expanded into human and animal ecology and generated increased awareness of the interdependence among all elements in the global ecologi­ cal system. Energy sources such as wind and solar and geothermal power received subsequent attention. Desalinization techniques developed as another focus. In early 1955, the Advisory Committee decided to give new impetus to its "Augur of UNESCO," Newsweek, 31 (1 March 1948), p. 41; Evans, "Some Management Problems of UNESCO," International Organization, 17 (Winter 1963), p. 85. For an argument on the irrelevance of natural sciences for creating international community, see Reinhold Niebuhr, "The Theory and Practice of UNESCO," In­ ternational Organization, 4 (February 1950), pp. 7-8.

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work by appealing to educational leaders and public opin­ ion. With cosponsorship by the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS), the Advisory Committee held a meeting in the southwestern United States. Some residents hoped that their visitors might solve the current drought. A more evident consequence was Unesco designa­ tion of research on arid zones as a major project. The six-year major project on arid zones was designed to emphasize a tier of countries from the Eastern Mediter­ ranean to South Asia. Sixteen Unesco member states made up this area. The project's terms of reference anticipated training for research workers, equipping of research teams, and creating of laboratories and research programs, all un­ der the general counsel of the scientists constituting the Advisory Committee on Arid Zone Research.27 Other science projects were held back for further promo­ tional work. The Montevideo General Conference of 1954 approved advisory committees modeled on the arid zones experience. New committees addressed humid tropical zones and oceanography. In 1958 these areas were depicted by Unesco scientists as excellent sources for a successor ma­ jor project. One conception, that leading to the Centre for European Nuclear Research (CERN), was prepared through Auger's mediation but realized outside of Unesco's orbit. European 27 Needham, "Science and International Relations," pp. 27-28; "Men Against Desert," News Chronicle, 11 January 1950; Calder, "Plans to Conquer the Wastelands," News Chronicle, 13 December 1950; "Arid Zone Research," Nature, 169 (5 January 1952), pp. 1112; "Using the Deserts," New Statesman, 44 (27 September 1952), p. 334; Calder, "Walking on Water," New Statesman, 47 (15 May 1954), p. 623; "Unesco Advisory Committee on Arid Zone Research," Nature, 174 (17 July 1954), p. 115; Farrington Daniels, "Solar En­ ergy and Wind Power," Science, 121 (28 January 1955), pp. 121-22; Peveril Meigs, "Salvaging the Desert," Nation, 180 (25 June 1955), pp. 577-79; "Ecology of Arid Zones," Nature, 176 (22 October 1955), p. 776.

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scientists had chafed at their exclusion from research facil­ ities and findings since the advent of wartime secrecy over means to release atomic energy. Some of those excluded had indeed contributed earlier to lines of investigation now followed within closed communities in the United States and in the Soviet Union. Professor Hyman Levy of the United Kingdom suggested a world network of international research institutions, located in many states, in which nation­ als of all countries could participate. Ritchie Calder lauded this proposal and thought that it would end "the scientific conspiracy." Henri Laugier of France proposed to ECOSOC that international laboratories be constructed under United Nations auspices, and Joseph Needham and other Unesco scientists carried this proposal as far as financial and polit­ ical support would allow. Isador I. Rabi, Nobel Laureate at Columbia University, pointed out to Edoardo Amaldi of Italy how several U.S. universities were pooling their resources to build a large accelerator and suggested that Europeans get together to work in the field of physics. In 1947 J. Robert Oppenheimer posed the idea of a European laboratory for nuclear research; two years later, at a Lau­ sanne cultural conference of Mouvement Europeen, French scientists more formally proposed an international research institution. Here Pierre Auger seized the initiative. At the Florence General Conference in 1950 he talked with Amaldi and Rabi. Both remained eager. Auger wanted Unesco license to seek financial support without incurring crippling conditions by supporters. Rabi talked at length with fellow U.S. delegates. His Conference colleagues re­ sponded unenthusiastically; some of them expressed mis­ givings about left-wing European scientists. A European nuclear laboratory would not be universal in participation, one American observed. But Rabi persuaded them to allow him to make a gesture of support for a European laboratory. In exchange he agreed not to oppose them on the official U.S. proposal to institute cultural facilities in West Ger-

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many, a scheme he did not like. The resulting Conference resolution authorized study and established the principle of regional cooperation in creating common research cen­ ters, though it promised no real financial support. Auger set out in quest of funds. Gustavo Colonnetti of Italy pledged a sizable contribu­ tion during a Mouvement Europeen meeting in December 1950. French and Belgian contributions followed. Auger established a Unesco working group in Paris, and with Amaldi, who represented the International Union of Pure and Applied Physics, summoned 9 physicists from 8 nations to plan the dimensions of an accelerator, its desirable staff, and the necessary budget. They formed a provisional or­ ganization. Founders felt, in the words of French physicist Lew Kowarski, that this small concrete beginning "would facilitate a gradual mutual adjustment of differences" and "bring out, almost unnoticeably, the transition to greater commitment and firmer relations." An inauspicious conference on a European Laboratory for Nuclear Research was convened in Paris late in 1951. Torres Bodet privately told participants that he remained exceedingly skeptical that the desired $50,000,000 could be found. In the British Isles some policy-makers in science opposed the project because it would compete for resources and attention with Britain's Harwell facilities. A Copen­ hagen group around Niels Bohr apparently felt threatened by the Paris-based scientists. When sites were finally con­ templated, the Como municipal council turned down what spokesmen for the Italian Communist Party implied was a Trojan horse financed by American capital and filled by the provisioners of fascist military resurgence. The city of Varese then bid for the projected laboratory but failed (in this instance) when Geneva officials became interested. Geneva in turn was challenged as a site by petitioners who feared international controversy and its local effects. Doubt­ ers were defeated in a cantonal referendum, thus opening the way for the laboratory's establishment. Through these

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tergiversations inside and beyond Unesco materialized CERN.28 From Cultural Activities came the third Unesco major project. Under the able cultivation of Jean Thomas, Euro­ pean interest in cultures of the Orient grew. A symposium held in New Delhi late in 1951 on the concept of man and the philosophies of education in East and West provided early impetus. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, philosopher, am­ bassador to Moscow, and future Indian vice president, chaired the symposium; participants included eminent vis­ itors from many cultures. Paul Green, a North Carolina playwright, was sufficiently impressed to send home a rec­ ommendation that all Unesco activities should strive to achieve a like elevation. Publications under the Unesco aegis called for the exploration and recognition of original­ ity and worth in all cultures. European and Asian national commissions, each set convening occasionally to exchange information and to consider aggregating their preferences, pressed Evans when major projects were in process of allo­ cation. The Director-General agreed to designate mutual appreciation of eastern and western cultural values as one of these. The planned East-West project outlined a program of reference books, studies, and fellowships to provide fuller presentation of Orient to Occident. It also hinted at revised cultural policies toward the East. Western nations "must examine more closely the influence of their civilization upon the Orient in order to strengthen elements weakly repre­ sented," stated the Unesco Chronicle. "The task requires a two-way street," reported a western commentator, "for just as we puzzle over an inscrutable and mysterious East or per­ haps, sinking a notch lower, dread a Yellow Peril, so they 28

Calder, "Science and World Government," New Statesman and Nation, 30 (3 November 1945), p. 294; Robert Jungk, The Big Machine, trans, by Grace Marmor Spruch and Traude Weiss (New York: Scribner, 1968), pp. 29-48. See also "10 European Nations to Build Huge Atom Smasher," NY T, 20 February 1971.

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despise an arrogant and materialist West, all bombs and dollars and glittering machinery. UNESCO has proposed to slay both stereotypes and, in their place, to install rea­ sonable approximations of reality."29 Other cultural activities arose without benefit of Unesco designation as major projects. Berredo Carneiro's efforts to preserve the cultural inheritance of mankind, for instance, began to pay off through technical assistance in methods of restoring art objects and sites. A 1950 earthquake precipi­ tated Unesco's first mission on cultural renovation to Cuzco, Peru; this mission aroused inquiries about comparable un­ dertakings in many other member states. The 1950 General Conference authorized the establishment of an advisory committee, subsequently named the International Commit­ tee on Monuments, Artistic and Historical Sites, and Ar­ chaeological Excavations. In due course this committee's sessions projected an international study center for the pres­ ervation and restoration of cultural property, later won by the Italian government over a Belgian bid. Not all participants' initiatives on behalf of cultural pres­ ervation and restoration reached fruition. The lack of fi­ nances sharply limited assistance to successful member applicants and eliminated some requests entirely. A pro­ posed series of guides to art collections in the Americas, for instance, the Unesco Executive Board adjudged interesting and worthy of further study but impracticable for want of funds. While a Board member, Evans had opposed a per­ manent committee on monuments, sites, and excavations; as Director-General, he restrained the budgetary growth that such enterprises would require. Evans did not resist all measures pegged to cultural jus29

Harold S. Thames, "An Analysis of Representative Ideological Criticism of [UNESCO] in the United States, 1946-1954," Ph.D. diss., Duke University, 1955, pp. 191-92; Laves and Thomson, pp. 57-58; UC, 3 (January-February 1957), p. 17; Peter Lyon, "A World of Understanding," Holiday, 29 (March 1961), p. 81.

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tifications, however. Draft proposals for the protection of cultural treasures in the event of armed conflict were pre­ pared for circulation to members at the insistence of the Italian government. After several rounds of consultation, Unesco convened a 1954 Hague meeting to formalize this legal or standard-setting approach to cultural preservation. It was the first Unesco conclave attended by a Soviet dele­ gation. Following proposals for participation by the People's Republic of China and the Democratic Republic of Ger­ many—both of which were overwhelmingly rejected—con­ ferees reached the agenda question of protecting cultural property. [T]here was general agreement on the desirability of such a convention but some dispute as to the definition of cul­ tural property; among the things which were suggested for inclusion were places of natural beauty, archeological sites, archives, libraries, individual manuscripts and books. By a vote of 22 to 8 with 8 abstentions, the con­ ference approved a United States proposal that the con­ vention provide specifically that cultural treasures should be respected except in cases of military necessity. The Soviet delegation had objected to the inclusion of the exception of military necessity while the United States delegation argued that without it the convention would not be realistic. Prior to its adjournment, the conference declared out of order a Soviet proposal that the confer­ ence go on record against the use of atomic and hydrogen weapons.30 The whole sequence, an observer was later heard to remark, had an air of unreality to it. Measures for the protection of writers and artists per­ haps advanced further during the tenure of Luther Evans than during any period since the French project for a resur­ rected Institut international cle cooperation intellectuelle. 30Karp, p. 139; International Organization, 8 (August 1954), p. 393.

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Evans counted among his associates of long standing people interested in the publication and sale of books. Long before his election as Director-General, Evans had been a firm advocate of changes in copyright regulations. While admin­ istering Unesco he championed neighboring rights for cre­ ators other than writers. In 1950 he had co-chaired a com­ mittee of experts that scrutinized members' comments upon the timeliness of a universal copyright convention to em­ brace existing standards and then recommended govern­ mental action. Both this and the convention on neighboring rights later were approved and widely ratified. Mass communications eclipsed cultural activities under Evans' leadership. Publishers' Weekly subsequently high­ lighted other achievements of this period besides the copy­ right convention. Evans furthered a Unesco campaign, already under way, to set standards for freer flow of educa­ tional, scientific, and cultural magazines, newspapers, maps, musical scores, works of art, and articles for the blind. The former Librarian of Congress promoted programs for libra­ ries in areas without them. He encouraged additional de­ velopment of the book-purchasing coupon scheme and a gift-coupon plan. And he spurred more systematic inter­ national reporting on publication, sales, and distribution of printed materials.31 Unesco's communications sector promoted the interna­ tional flow of information through decisions reached with­ in other intergovernmental organizations. Julian Behrstock of the secretariat, sanctioned by his institution's Executive Board, offered proposals to member governments who might in their sovereign discretion submit them elsewhere within 31 "Conference of UNESCO," United States Department of State Bulletin, 16 (12 January 1947), p. 54; Evans, "Lessons Learned from Developing the Universal Copyright Convention," Publishers' Weekly, 168 (8 October 1955), p. 1638; "Veronese Succeeds Evans as Director-General of UNESCO," Publishers' Weekly, 174 (8 December 1958), p. 16.

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multilateral organizations in which they participated. Some­ times secretariat actors consulted directly with their coun­ terpart staffers in another agency to commission expert studies and, with member governments' approval, to pro­ pose measures for reducing costs and obstacles in telecom­ munications and in postal and transportation services. Unescans thus conspired to influence the choices of GATT, the UN Economic Commission for Europe, the Universal Postal Union, the International Telecommunication Union, the Council of Europe, congresses of the Postal Union of the Americas and Spain and of the Arab Postal Union, and even the International Air Transport Association. Social science activities through Unesco attracted interest soon after the beginning of Torres Bodet's direction. Berredo Carneiro hoped that the new Director-General would develop the social sciences just as Huxley had developed the natural sciences. Ronald Walker, an economist and the leader of the Executive Board, remarked that fundamental aims and work of the organization lay within this realm be­ cause if Unesco were "to influence the course of human events," the organization must "try to operate with very important social forces; it must understand those forces or its activity would be stultified." He later observed that al­ though "the social sciences had devoted centuries to the study of problems of political, economic, and administrative organization at the national level," the effort devoted to similar problems on the international level was pitiful in comparison to that given phenomena closer to hand. Unesco should strive "to facilitate such studies by social scientists by rendering more accessible the facts regarding the actual experience of various essays in international organization." One reason for the neglect of international problems, he continued, was the distance separating students from the objects of their studies. Torres Bodet seemed open to these suggestions, even commenting in 1949 that the Unesco social sciences division "by its very purpose was destined

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to form the centre of the Organization." Despite occasional signs of life, however, Unesco social sciences remained peripheral to major Unesco activities. One hopeful sign appeared in 1950 when Alva Myrdal of Sweden became director of Unesco social sciences. Mrs. Myrdal, who sometimes drew upon her economist husband's storehouse of ideas and perhaps also upon his experience in Geneva as first Executive Secretary of the UN Economic Commission for Europe, brought sparkle to her role and a dash of drama when for a time she had difficulty entering the United States for a visit. A few solid accomplishments can be traced to her teim, for example the commissioning of Maurice Duverger's study, The Political Role of Women, and new experts' attacks on racial concepts. But audacious innovation was difficult, particularly at this time, and with­ in a few years Alva Myrdal accepted her government's ap­ pointment as ambassador to India, leaving the Unesco posi­ tion to another series of short-term and perhaps equally frustrated successors. While a member of the Executive Board, Luther Evans had occasionally questioned expansionary moves by pro­ moters of social science, for instance those to establish transnational associations when the scholars seemed un­ ready to collaborate internationally. As Director-General he dampened social science initiatives in their early stages by restricting the executive budget. Thus during this period a secretariat claimant from a rival sector was wont to show visitors program materials in his own department with the comment "This is [what otherwise might have been] social sciences, nineteen fifty " By the middle 1950s, the concept of tensions had lost its capacity even to contain discrepant interests of Unesco social scientists. Superficially, at least, new Unesco man­ dates to investigate education in international understand­ ing, human rights, and "social development" seemed to pro­ vide cutting edges which might be brought to bear upon harsh reality. But the impact of these programs was not

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great. Those left to execute the mandates of delegates de­ voted their efforts to discussing how to approach a worth­ while change if it were ever really to be undertaken. Often the preparatory work was contracted to private investigators whose reports provoked little public notice. Finding difficulties in transnational collaboration, social science-minded Unescans prescribed "group research" to overcome "the burdens of isolation and prejudice of 'one man projects'." An international questionnaire to evoke data for Contemporary Political Science, for instance, advised its respondents that "the technique of group research is des­ tined to play a more and more important role in the devel­ opment of the social sciences, and we invite you to comment on the possibility of using it in political science in general, or in the field of study in which you are most interested." In the absence of sufficient agreement to enable them to grapple with troublesome problems, Unesco-oriented social scientists continued to fall back upon compilations of exist­ ing studies and research, documentation of data, and inter­ change on methods.32 To many onlookers, Unesco's most conspicuous contem­ porary project was the scientific and cultural history of man­ kind. Now there were additional participants, higher stakes, and many more disagreements about desirable approaches and about such a venture than had occurred during the wartime London days of the Conference of Allied Ministers of Education. Sir Ernest Barker had written soon after the war that a set of ideas about the past—and especially the past of our own country—lives in our minds; colors our minds; moves our minds; and helps to determine the way in which we think and act on the current issues of the pres­ ent. . . . If the past thus lives and if history is a part and 32 Karp, pp. 135-37; Unesco, Contemporary Political Science (Paris: Unesco, 1950), pp. 2-3.

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parcel of our mind, we must all desire that this living past should be the real and actual past, and that this history of it should be a good and true history. . . . But the matter is not altogether simple. After all, the past of a particular country belongs in a peculiar way to that particular country; and it means something particular to that country. . . . Each nation lives in its atmosphere; and its history must be part of its atmosphere and cannot help being part of its atmosphere. On the other hand no coun­ try lives to itself alone. . . . Any country is part of a wider system and shares the atmosphere of that system. Some day that wider system will be the whole of the world. At present we have hardly gone so far. All this means that every nation needs two histories—a national history and an international history. And every nation also needs some adjustment of the one to the other. Barker wanted a single common history to describe Europe, its "spiritual development" and its expansion, "as something to which . . . every nation has contributed its share." He hoped for its use in educating "the best minds of each na­ tion" within universities, training colleges and secondary schools.33 Julian Huxley also left his special imprint upon the Unesco history of mankind. For a time after his departure as Director-General, Huxley's initiative remained under review and, as he put it in 1950, "under fire." A contemporary Manchester Guardian dispatch reported that Huxley was "rather longing" to become editor of the history.34 Torres Bodet received Conference instructions to establish an in­ ternational commission capable of demonstrating in their work "the interdependence of nations and cultures and their respective contributions to the common heritage of man33

Barker, "The Historian, Too, Must Stand Trial," p. 9. "UNESCO's New Tasks," New Republic, 123 ( 25 Sep­ tember 1950), p. 20; "U.S. Intervention Upsets Unesco," MG, 17 June 1950. 34Huxley,

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kind." For advice on appointments he consulted representa­ tives of the International Council of Scientific Unions (ICSU) and the International Council for Philosophy and Humanistic Studies (ICPHS)—Joseph Needham, and Rob­ ert Fawtier of France. First selections for the commission included Homi Bhabha (India), Carl J. Burckhardt (Swit­ zerland), Berredo Carneiro (Brazil), Huxley (United King­ dom), Charles Moraze (France), Mario Praz (Italy), Ralph Turner of CAME experience (United States), Sylvio Zavala (Mexico), and Constantine Zureik (Syria). Others were coopted as commission members and designated as national correspondents. Members selected Berredo Carneiro as chairman and Huxley and Burekhardt as first and second vice-chairmen. Professors Zureik and Moraze joined Tur­ ner, a Yale historian chosen to guide the project, in forming an editorial committee. New participants soon swelled this committee, also. The history of mankind project did not precipitate a com­ mon point of view comparable to that of the Huxley-Wells and CAME collaborations. British interest in rewriting his­ tory had reached its climax with the publication of The European Inheritance, if not before. Only an occasional British supporter spoke out thereafter, sometimes in re­ sponse to criticism. Two of three speakers attacked the proj­ ect at the 1953 annual meeting of the Council of Christians and Jews, for instance, whereupon the Times Educational Supplement retorted that this Unesco effort might yet prove valuable. Although it is "difficult to get at the bare facts," maintained this commentary, "it happens to be the task of those who teach history, even to the young, to get as near to them as they can."35 Some Americans feared the project despite overwhelming evidence that the volumes were of interest mainly to specialists. In his own country, Turner was scored as an iconoclast and atheist. Elsewhere, too, the project was regarded more as danger than as folly. 35 "Comment in Brief," p. 1037, and "Teaching of History," p. 1041, TES, 11 December 1953.

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Certainly Turners design for the project suggested cause for alertness by defenders of divergent views. History was not mere academic study, he wrote; capturing the past was a means of seizing power in the present. Turner's historical inclinations seemed to be based neither on supernatural nor on material premises. Recalling his colleague Rene Grousset's argument in The Sum of History, he stated that each culture represents man's effort to bring a vision to reality. Hence the historian's craft should illuminate the formation and transformation of these visions. Unesco's international commission, which soon sponsored a Journal of World His­ tory for special studies and dissenting interpretations, saw no purposeful development of a world community—only the results of increased human creativity and interdepend­ ence. Turner envisaged for the project not a channel to guide thinking "but a summit from which thinking [men and women] can see new goals for peoples as they are parts of mankind." If Turner's outlined project presented a threat, it also tendered an opportunity. The history would be "both a coherent discussion of the human career and a record of differences of points of view toward and interpretations of either parts or all of it," he wrote in 1952.3e From prehistory to the twentieth century, then, the volumes offered partici­ pants a graded set of opportunities ranging from co-author­ ship to the right of dissenting footnote entries. To engage seasonably once again presented advantages to the inter­ national actor. Evans' achievements, along with his widely recognized failures, outlived his tenure as Director-General. Unesco's headquarters problems had fallen squarely to him upon assumption of the Directorship-General. The buildings served as butt of more than a few criticisms. That they were put up at all, however, is a tribute to his perseverance 36 "Mankind from a New Summit," Saturday Review, 5 April 1952, pp. 9-10, 35-36.

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as well as his willingness to compromise. In some details he took personal pride, for instance in the installation of a metal bar along seventh-floor windows to prevent children from falling. The Soviet entry into Unesco, again, could have been far more disruptive for all involved without his patience and his spirit of accommodation, qualities all the more remarkable in view of his nationality and the preva­ lent domestic fever. No proponent of expanded Unesco spending—in 1956 Evans found his proposed figure voted upward by a majority of Conference delegations—he intro­ duced budgetary improvements which in economy-bloc eyes yielded greater efficiency. Thus he opened the way to further Unesco evolution by providing future executive managers with increased control. Most important, he made Unesco vastly more field-worthy. Former U.S. Secretary of State Dean Acheson once de­ scribed his advocacy of "the heretical view that, whatever political scientists might say, policy in [the U.S.] is made, as often as not, by the necessity of finding something to say for an important figure committed to speak without a pre­ arranged subject."37 So it was with Harry S. Truman's Point Four proposal. Responses to Truman's 1949 inaugural ad­ dress were immediate in New York, indirect at Unesco House. Trygve Lie summoned the representatives of spe­ cialized agencies who wished to participate in extending UN technical assistance, whereupon Torres Bodet dispatched two Unescans to advance their institution's preferences. The Expanded Programme of Technical Assistance (EPTA) had an impact upon Unesco unlike that of any UN directive before it. EPTA support to Unesco "made some of the underdeveloped [nations' representatives] rally around," said a high-ranking official of this period, "because we had something they wanted. . . . Out there [in the field] there were unilateral programs, and representatives from other specialized agencies, and nobody knew what the hell 37 Present at the Creation, p. 55. For more circumstances at the origin of Point Four, see my "Functional Agencies," pp. 506-507.

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was going on/' Rene Maheu looked back more serenely several years later. "It must be admitted that the founders of Unesco could not [at the outset] foresee an undertaking of such scope" in aiding development through operational activities; "when Unesco did ultimately adopt operational assistance as a normal and indeed main method of work this was due much more to the fact that it was a member of the United Nations family than to its own exclusive initia­ tive."38 Evans facilitated institutional adaptation to the challenge of UN aid. No doubt his faith in technical assistance was based upon an over-simple analogy. He told an associate that Unesco's business was this: there were vessels filled with water in some parts of the world. There were thirsty people in other parts. The task of Unesco was simply to get water from the world's vessels to the thirsty people. Never­ theless, this belief sustained him through the adversities of his directorship. In Malcolm Adiseshiah of India, Evans found another be­ liever and raised him to a position of greater influence upon the fortunes of Unesco-administered assistance to members. Others too have vouched for Adiseshiah's dedication. [Query:] Was he instrumental? [Reply:] Yes, Adiseshiah was a good salesman, and he went all around selling. When he'd sold himself . . . he could sell anyone else. Did he have trouble selling himself? No, not at all. I mean, it was impossible to Itnsell him on anything he'd decided on. Another staff member, commenting upon the future Deputy Director-General's long hours, suggested that when he dreamed it was probably about Unesco. Adiseshiah it was who, with Rene Maheu, approached Evans to urge adoption of a "participation programme" whereby Unesco would be a8Maheu,

"Unesco's 20 Years," UC, 19 (July-August 1966), p. 4.

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able to satisfy requests received from governments for small-scale financial assistance in divers enterprises. Par­ ticipation aid augmented the development-sanctioned as­ sistance from EPTA. Initial financing for the participation program came, as Evans put it, through a stroke of luck: the Soviet and related memberships produced new income enabling this extension "without increasing the burden" upon others. Such solicitude for governmental benefactors contrasted sharply with the bearing of Torres Bodet. The American executive manager took governments where they stood. He tended also to accept them where they stood. Evans took pride in Unesco's relations with other mem­ bers of the UN family. Soon after his assumption of the Directorship-General, he offered Unesco as a model partner in coordination to his counterpart administrators from other UN agencies sitting upon the Administrative Committee on Coordination (ACC), and to a gathering of governments' rep­ resentatives in ECOSOC. Later he stressed to his own Ex­ ecutive Board the virtues of close cooperation between Unesco and other UN organizational units in several areas charted by ACC: water control and utilization; develop­ ment of arid lands; industrialization and increased pro­ ductivity; housing; and the study of social implications of technological change. However, he was no textbook per­ fectionist on coordination, as he said. Occasionally he loosed private barbs at academics whom he thought naive about coordination in the real world. The decade of the 1950s began with Unesco unprepared for the advent of UN technical assistance; it ended with Unescans clamoring for more UN assistance. In the prin­ cipal UN organs, Asian and Latin American spokesmen mustered themselves behind proposals for a United Nations economic development agency (UNEDA) or a special United Nations fund for economic development (SUNFED). Unesco forums provided sounding boards for these pro­ posals and for others. One proposal for a Unesco fund for cultural preservation was followed by another proposal for

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an international fund for education, science, and culture. For neither proposed fund was finance deemed available. By 1956, stated a Unesco official, "the lines were drawn" between haves and have-nots. Another man from the Old Commonwealth recalled how Unesco participants had to be jarred into consciousness of the necessity for adequate fund­ ing. The UN Special Fund was a creation greeted eagerly by virtually all Unesco parties. They had long been ex­ pectant. The pragmatic bent of Evans' tutelage did not please all Unescans. Paul Rivet, founder of the Musee de !'Homme and a French National Commission participant, lamented to a European audience that Unesco was devoting high priority to these new operations and inadequate attention to its initial conception. Writing under the title "L'Unesco en face des realites," P. L. Bret saw spiritual rebirth of the institution as its only hope for embracing truth. "To main­ tain that the only real things are the physical givens of the human problem" would be tantamount to holding that "the institution has no choice other than political servitude," he contended. A French-speaking delegate to the General Con­ ference was heard to remark that Unesco had forsaken its high calling as the conscience of mankind and had become instead a kind of grocery store. Nor were continental Euro­ peans the only disgruntled patrons. As the 1958 election of Unesco's Director-General approached, The Times won­ dered editorially whether sagging morale since the secre­ tariat dismissals did not make it time for a change.39 And Evans' openness in answering the query of whether indi­ vidual mainland Chinese might serve as Unesco experts was greeted by a stony silence from official Americans upon whom his re-election would depend. At the New Delhi General Conference in 1956, Vittorino 39 Thomas, op. cit., p. 21; Bret, La Revue de Paris, 60 (May 1953), pp. 84-96; "Need for Unity," editorial, The Times, 24 No­ vember 1958.

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Veronese of the Executive Board gave a dinner party whose guests included Rene Maheu (sent by Evans to New York some months earlier as Unesco liaison officer to the UN) and other French officials. Here the Directorship-General served as a principal topic. Veronese was suggested for the post. From a Latin American journey, Adiseshiah brought word to Evans that all was well, but his judgment was pre­ mature. Latin America, the region of most members' votes, tempted the courtship also of representatives from the Ital­ ian government and the Roman Catholic Church. Both sought the election of Veronese. Gian Franco Pompei of the Italian foreign service was later credited with mastermind­ ing the campaign. Maheu, suggested a man in excellent position to observe, was not idle among governments' dele­ gates in New York. "The State Department forgot that the Itahans invented diplomacy," stated a British international civil servant. Evans "played it coy," said an onlooking American, although he did undertake a timely visit to Washington. The Eisen­ hower administration "sat on its hands," a Frenchman com­ mented. In this last judgment Evans was inclined to concur. Though he, as incumbent, enjoyed support from several corners of the southern hemisphere, he lost potential back­ ers from other quarters when the Soviets initially joined in demanding more Asians in high Unesco posts and presently an Asian in the topmost one—if necessary following a sixmonth delay for intergovernmental searching. Subsequent Soviet help for Evans came too late to save him. By this time the American electors were supporting Veronese—to avoid a serious split, Washington said. Veronese acquired a bare Executive Board majority. He then was appointed by a Conference vote of 50 to 22, with 4 abstentions.40 Luther Evans had stated that he would willingly relin40 "Unesco's New Director-General," TES, 3 October 1958, p. 1454; "L'Assemblee Generale de I'Unesco," Le Monde, 4 November 1958; "U.S. Reverses Stand on New UNESCO Head," NYT, 6 November 1958.

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quish his position to anyone with the ability and the energy to man it. His tribute to Veronese emphasized other traits. "I have been greatly impressed during the years since I met him at Beirut 10 years ago, by Veronese's sense of equilibrium and moderation. This is a quality of capital im­ portance . . . in view of the diversities of aspirations which must be reconciled in the work of Unesco." In retrospect, at least, Evans felt that Executive Board members had been inconstant in their specifications for a Director-General. By 1958 they "wanted more of the eminent-man business." He likewise charged Board members with a reversal of senti­ ment about governmental involvement in Unesco. If true, this private defection of Board members from their endorse­ ment of governmental control constituted a remarkable in­ dication of institutionalization within an organ comprising official national representatives. Evans' farewell stressed his personal commitment to the institution in which he had participated wholeheartedly: To say that I leave without sorrow would be untrue, and I cannot claim such lack of feeling. Who could leave Unesco without regret? Unesco is more than an institu­ tion, it is a work of art still being thought out and worked on, therefore fascinating by reason of its very incomplete­ ness and its unresolved enigmas; above all, it is a dedica­ tion which cannot be forsworn.41 He then returned home to become, after a brief interlude, Director of International and Legal Collections at Columbia University. Vittorino Veronese was born to Dirce MuzoIon and Bartolomeo Veronese on 1 March 1910 in Vicenza, a country town near Venice. His father was chief technician in the local electric plant, and his mother taught school. Young VitilEvans, "A Cause Not to be Forsworn," UC, 4 (December 1958), p. 387.

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torino began his formal education early and advanced with his scholastic contemporaries. Sports held little interest for him, possibly because of a two-year age handicap, but his studies habitually ranked him near the top. He had earned a doctorate of law at the University of Padua before his twenty-first birthday. After a period of legal practice he took a position as sociology instructor at Ateneo Angelicum University in Rome. Captain for a time in the infantry reserve, he was dis­ charged during the war on the grounds of an arthritic con­ dition. He did not support Mussolini. His close ties with the Vatican—including activism in the Catholic Movement of University Graduates, which he served as a high officer while in his twenties—made him relatively invulnerable to the regime. Beginning in 1944 he headed the Catholic In­ stitute of Social Work (ICAS) and the Catholic Action movement of Italy, working to keep Communists out of the postwar governments. After becoming Director-General, he was to remain silent when asked about the possibility of appointing individual experts from the People's Republic of China. Veronese participated in financial groups affiliated with the Roman Church and with the Italian state. Whether for the Pius XII Foundation (to which he reportedly was ap­ pointed by Pius himself), the Central Credit Institute, the Public Works Credit Association, the Catholic Bank of Venice or the Bank of Rome, he was often designated chair­ man—a sign of his peers' appreciation of his facility in such roles. Since the start of Italy's Unesco membership in 1948, Veronese had attended every General Conference. In 1952 he deliberated with other Unesco experts upon a draft pro­ posal to set standards for popular participation in cultural life. Later the same year he was elected to the Executive Board, which he subsequently served as chairman. Once again Veronese proved himself a remarkable orchestrator of small groups—in this case a group, though clubbish, with

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most unorthodox values. He skillfully drew out his col­ leagues, then synthesized or harmonized their words. Vero­ nese operated at precisely the right level of generality, framing conciliar statements and leaving other work to ap­ propriate agents. He was, in a memorable phrase by one close associate, "the perfect Board man."42 When first he spoke as Director-General it was with meas­ ured words. My background accounts for my liking to consider things from every aspect, and my habit of trying not to overlook any which might, at first sight, seem irreconcilable. I think experience has even taught me that no equilibrium, no progress, no peace is possible without certain contradic­ tions. I have no wish to outline a philosophy at this point; I am merely making an observation. Equilibrium results from a balance of opposites; a state of tension is the pre­ lude to every advance; peace, true peace, means the es­ tablishment, in a spirit of genuine friendliness, of proper harmony between all the interests at stake. The life of Unesco is likewise governed by these laws. In our Organi­ zation I see several springs of contrasting forces and cur­ rents. But far from feeling dismay, I regard this as proof that we are at grips with the realities of life, not sailing in the clouds . . . Unesco's role is not to put an end to the complexity of reality but rather to come to grips with that complexity, and to draw opposing forces into a com­ mon movement towards a goal beyond and above all oppositions. Two such opposed forces contended: those on behalf of intellectual cooperation, and those seeking assistance in material progress. Veronese embodied the resurgent hopes « "Italian Lawyer to Head UNESCO," NYT, 23 November 1958; "Italian Inducted as UNESCO's Chief," NYT, 6 December 1958; "Man in the News: A Tweedy Intellectual," NYT, 6 December 1958.

FACING "REALITY"

197

of IICI sympathizers. The partisans of development for a time had threatened his nomination. To Veronese these op­ posing forces seemed propitiable. His metaphor, in any case, encompassed both. It also replaced Evans' hydrological problem: The rains that make the lowlands fertile are formed in the upper layers of the atmosphere. . . . It is one of Unesco's main duties to convince specialists that their research work must have a bearing on technical assistance, even when it is not directly associated with it. Similarly, the recipients of technical assistance must come to understand that it is in fact in the laboratories, institutes, universities and scientific congresses that the techniques subsequently handed on to them are worked out.43 Unesco's course of development mixed the indications by which a process of institutionalization has been distin­ guished elsewhere by students of public and private or­ ganizations. "The more complicated an organization is," writes Samuel P. Huntington, "the more highly institutional it is." Certainly Unesco's pattern was one of complexity more than simplicity. Moreover, the organization's survival of early trials pointed toward institutional durability. Or­ ganizational leaders demonstrated their adaptability to new challenges, even though the dominant appearance of Unesco during the 1950s remained one of rigidity. On the other hand, Unesco participants offered little semblance of co­ herence, and their disunity, by a further scholarly criterion, bespoke exceedingly low institutionalization. Curiously, Unesco's growing autonomy (suggestive of advancing in­ stitutionalization) seemed upon closer examination to in­ dicate the insulation of individual Unescans from what could be termed their worldly environment. Freedom from political forces was achieved, temporarily, at the cost of 43 "Unesco in a Changing World," UC, 4 (December 1958), pp. 388-90.

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

imperviousness to issues of moment. And the phenomenon of boundary delineation presented another enigma to the discriminating scholar. Certain governmental actors helped to differentiate this institution from its international matrix: they downgraded official attentiveness to Unesco policies, ignoring the tendencies of Unescans to value the organiza­ tion for its sake and their own rather than for the larger purposes which it might fulfill. The emergent institution, in Huntington's terms, seemed to be triumphing over its func­ tion.44 A decade that began with the frantic, even hysterical, intervention of official America closed with rather subdued institutional activity. Most prominent governmental partici­ pants seemed more interested in preventing evil outcomes than in effecting good ones. As Unesco headed toward the 1960s, recognition of organizational maturation character­ ized viewers' assessments that differed otherwise in their conclusions. Unesco had "settled down to being a business­ like and uninspired undertaking," wrote James Marshall in qualified disappointment. "The beautiful, promising child had grown up to be not so beautiful or promising but defi­ nitely useful." "At long last," reported a more sanguine Ritchie Calder, "the organization was able to get the stardust out of its eyes." Both men singled out as testimony of the institutions increasing effectiveness the nations and governments for whom engagement was proving most di­ rectly pertinent—in 1959 mostly those of Asia and Latin America.45 44 Huntington,

loc. cit. "Ten Years of UNESCO," p. 22; Calder, "After 10 Years: A Stocktaking of the United Nations Specialized Agencies," Progress, 46 (August 1958), p. 251. 45 Marshall,

5. REGENERATION? (1960-1972)

IN THE eyes of one man who left Unesco inner circles during the 1950s, the institution's adjustments to "real"-world ad­ versity created so much machinery that new ideas could not become official policies. What was seen from this angle as frustrating insensitivity perhaps was valued by principal governments as comforting stability. Could Unesco partici­ pants benefit from institutional maturity without obviating institutional revivification? And could Unesco—whatever personality it might assume—at last draw its participants into sufficient engagement to implement the tasks they set themselves?1 1 Scholarly literature on the regeneration of institutions does not seem to be very extensive, but the following bear upon a common if inadequately conceived problem akin to our present concern: Anthony F. C. Wallace, "Revitalization Movements," American Anthropologist, 58 (April 1956), pp. 264-81; David L. Sills, The Volunteers (Glencoe: Free Press, 1957); John W. Gardner, Self-Renewal (New York: Harper & Row, 1963). Regarding the rejuvenating acts of fresh in­ tergovernmental organization participants, cf. David Kay, The New Nations in the United Nations, 1960-1967 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970). For analysis of adaptive leadership by ILO Director-General David A. Morse during a comparable period, see Ernst B. Haas, Beyond the Nation-State (Stanford: Stanford Univer­ sity Press, 1964), pp. 169ff.; also Robert W. Cox, "ILO: Limited Monarchy," in Cox and Jacobson, pp. 120-21. We take up factors of leadership more thoroughly in chapter 6. Interviews and direct observation of Unesco have been especially helpful for the present chapter. Again public documents were used. It should be noted that this study does not rely upon diplomatic correspondence, in-house memoranda, telephone logs, or other such privileged sources. To this

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

However they assessed the maturity of their institution, most participants wished that it might enjoy the association of younger people. Often this impulse took the form of an invitation for youth at large or for youth organizations to participate in Unesco activities, in the hope that the exist­ ent Unesco might thereby be made more attractive; some­ times this idea was joined to hopes that young people might be made into responsible citizens. In 1959, Director-General Vittorino Veronese beseeched nongovernmental organiza­ tions' leaders to help young people "become whole human beings. How," he asked, "can young people escape infection with the mania for movement, change, and rebellion, when the restraints which come with maturity are as yet unknown to them?" No doubt this was a pertinent question, given a certain point of view, although a youthful reviewer sympa­ thetic to Unesco later found it "well-meaning, benevolent, but in the end totally patronizing." Perhaps a more fitting issue was how youth's potentiality for vitalization might be brought to bear upon governmental restraints preventing the fruition of internationally agreed endeavors—and upon an institution threatened by organizational arteriosclerosis. But few people, either inside or outside Unesco, posed this as a possibility. Rejuvenation burst upon Unesco in a manner quite un­ planned. The year 1960 alone brought seventeen Unesco memberships from Africa. One was the former Belgian Congo. Urgent demands for help in Africa soon confronted Unesco deliberative bodies. The new members demanded immediate action and insisted that it take place on their terms. A high-ranking Unesco emissary to Leopoldville was asked how he could speak of an international education program when freshly independent peoples did not compre­ hend the history of their own nations. extent, at a minimum, authoritative reenactment of participants' en­ gaging and the institution's evolution await the investigations of others.

REGENERATION?

201

Meanwhile, the 1960 presidential campaign of John F. Kennedy cheered youthful spirits far beyond the United States of America. Kennedy had spoken out for Algerian independence, and he dramatized during his campaign the unmet opportunities for educating Africans in American universities. He proposed "a large-scale attack on mass igno­ rance and illiteracy" aided by the funding of educational development.2 President Kennedy crowned his national tri­ umph with a ringing inaugural address. "Let the word go forth from this time and place . . . that the torch has been passed to a new generation." Presidents of the United States use the UN General As­ sembly to court domestic political favor no less than to state their nations official position toward current international questions. Upon such an occasion, Kennedy followed up his campaign call for a bold and imaginative program by pro­ posing a United Nations Decade of Development. His offer drew the prompt positive response of Assembly resolution. No extraordinary financial support, however, seemed in prospect. In Cambodia, during 1958, Representative Henry S. Reuss had surveyed what a subsequent New York Times Magazine article called the crowning jewel of American bilateral aid— a superhighway from Phnom Penh to the sea.8 The highway, 2

Kennedy charged that the government ignored Africans "until events forced them upon us." The same National Council of Women forum heard Henry Cabot Lodge pledge to include a Negro in his administration's cabinet. Douglas Dales, "Candidates Urge End to Bias in U.S.," NYT, 13 October 1960. 3 Gertrude Samuels, "A Force of Youth as a Force for Peace," NYTM, 5 February 1981, pp. 26ff. In 1942 Walter Kotschnig had advanced a noteworthy (if neglected) plan for "the creation of some kind of international Works Progress Administration, Civilian Con­ servation Corps, or National Youth Administration. It will do as much as anything else to give the younger generation faith in international cooperation and the new international order within which mankind can find peace. Education for death and destruction will then be­ come education for creative life." "Problems of Education After the War," in International Conciliation, 379 (April 1942), p. 250.

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

Reuss recalled in 1971, had proved ineffective, since water­ ways were what people actually used. But a group of ener­ getic Unescans he encountered in the same area stimulated him to formulate afresh his enthusiasm for American for­ eign aid. These four individuals were idolized by villagers whom they helped in organizing local educational projects. Reuss advanced his adapted idea through articles in peri­ odicals and a bill materializing in Congressional authoriza­ tion for the study of a U.S. peace corps. John F. Kennedy's 1960 campaign offered him the occasion for such a proposal; his victory provided the opportunity for its creation. This innovation in diplomacy, too, enthralled young-hearted men and women. But as yet the approach to voluntary interna­ tional service followed unilateral rather than reciprocal, much less multilateral patterns. Unesco's commencing anew was more visibly affected by several intergovernmental organizations financing economic development. UN Special Fund (SF) Managing Director Paul Hoffman's initial criteria for "pre-investment" stressed development through the cultivation of enterprises with direct revenue-bearing prospects. But, from the outset, Hoff­ man's salute to development invited potential project exec­ utors among the UN specialized agencies to originate more economically daring proposals. Hoffman did not discourage the circulation of their prospectuses. Moreover, he left the door ajar for pilot projects stretching orthodox investment criteria. In a promotional brochure, Hoffman decried the "shameful neglect of . . . human resources" and thus implied that his fledgling agency could do something about it. The Managing Director interested needy listeners by stating that he could not spell out "all the possible situations in which assistance might be desired and requests for it con­ sidered eligible." These words must have fallen like manna within apparent reach of hungry Unescans, among others. By August 1959, Unesco's secretariat had helped 18 govern­ ments to formulate requests for SF assistance and had ad-

BEGENERATION?

203

vised the Special Fund on 12 others received at SF's New York headquarters. Almost all requests concerned Latin America and Asia.4 Within a year, Africa emerged as a vigor­ ous claimant of resources. Hoffman's pre-investment suggested a SF task on a mone­ tary scale between technical assistance from the UN and loans from the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD). But the creation of SF did not dis­ sipate pressures for development assistance on a scale great­ er than that of SF and on terms more advantageous than those offered by IBRD. An International Development As­ sociation (IDA) window of the International Bank was as­ sured in September 1980. Soon afterward other founding governments reached agreement upon an Inter-American Development Bank (IDB). Unesco secretariat spokesman Rene Maheu talked with top agents for both projected sources of financing, who reportedly expressed their willing­ ness to consider "any requests for assistance in the field of technical training" and, on behalf of IDB, to weigh the possibility of aid under even broader terms of reference. The Unesco secretariat prepared a report to defend both nonrecurring and recurring educational investment. By mid-1961 the Unesco Executive Board session heard that fourteen members had sent requests for assistance in formu­ lating educational programs. The first IDA credit for educa­ tion was offered in September 1962. By February 1970, IDA and IBRD had extended $260,650,000 in educational credits within 29 states.5 Unescans cultivated other financial sources during the 1960s. The leaders of UNICEF (the UN Children's Fund), 4

"The United Nations Special Fund and Unesco," UC, 5 (AugustSeptember 1959), p. 269. Hoffman's quotations are borrowed from Sewell, Functionalism and World Politics (Princeton: Princeton Uni­ versity Press, 1966), pp. 208, 210. 5 "New Trends in International Financial Aid," UC, β (December 1960), pp. 447-50; Maheu, "Unesco's Adaptation to Its New Tasks," UC, 9 (April 1963), p. 123; "How the World Bank and Unesco Work Together in Education," UC, 16 (June 1970), p. 249.

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FOBMATION AND EVOLUTION

who had devoted their agency originally to alleviating hun­ ger and disease, in 1960 began a small-scale educational program in conjunction with Unesco by allocating $143,000 for these purposes. By 1968 about $4,500,000 was budgeted annually for training teachers and for pre-vocational educa­ tion and training. The World Food Programme (WFP) offered collaborative possibilities for Unesco beginning in 1963.6 During the same year the Ford Foundation made a project-oriented Unesco contribution, thereby reversing the Unesco expectation that NGOs would ask for rather than give financial support. Attracted by outside financing, Unesco entrepreneurs modified practice and appearance in significant ways. The partisans of operational action, as practical assistance to members soon was called, contended actively with earlier generations of Unescans. Field missions spread. Unesco staff member Malcolm Adiseshiah of India wrote before the 1960 General Conference of imperative institutional changes to assist member governments "in the development of longterm plans out of which arise projects meriting Special Fund financing." Later he put the matter revealingly to UN Resi­ dent Representatives, "the impresarios of the development scene of this great human drama. . . . How does the United Nations Development Programme fit into Unesco? It deals with . . . the most spectacular . . . [and] the most concrete part of Unesco [,] . .. a sector that will go on expanding and extending." Adiseshiah told governments that their most practical duty lay in restructuring the Unesco secretariat so as to provide "concrete proof of the future co-operation of this Organization with the Special Fund in helping to create favourable conditions for increasing investment and so accelerating the economic and social progress of MemeRichard Greenough, "Unesco and Unicef: More Teachers for Children," UC, 13 (March 1967), pp. 107-10; A. H. Boerma, "The World Food Programme and Unesco," UC, 10 (August-September 1964), pp. 273ff.

BEGENEBATION?

205

ber States."7 Some Unescans—by no means all—sensed that at last their institution had found a concrete indication of success. Investment within developing countries was said to vouch for the impact of SF pre-investment; SF and other funding of Unesco projects might perform a comparable task for the Paris institution by validating the potency of Unesco pre-pre-investment. The development of external funding sources coincided with the appearance of new needs in Unesco's environment —or, more precisely, with fresh demands by Africans and other newly engaging participants. Novel and diverse finan­ cial opportunities offered only a potential blessing to the guardians of institutional personality. A heterodox company of Unescans reconsidered their identity and their mission. What distressed U.S. delegate Alfred de Grazia at the 1960 General Conference was "the awesome planlessness of the whole operation from its inception . . . to the present, and, indeed, into the visible future." Ventures receiving Unesco endorsement seemed always at the mercy of some outside impulse. In 1961, Clarence Beeby issued the warning that as smaller proportions of total resources came under the institutions regular program and more of this became tied to operational tasks, the Board was bound to lose contact with Unesco policies. "More self-examination of Unesco's role in development took place in the years 1960-1962 than in all the years after 1946," wrote John E. Fobes, Deputy Director-General-to-be. In retrospect, Rene Maheu referred to 1960 as a time of decisive change.8 "Unesco and United Nations Special Fund," UC, β (August-September 1960), p. 315; address in Turin on 29 June 1966, Unesco doc. WS/0766.12.0DG. SF and EPTA merged to form UNDP in 1965. 8 De Grazia, "The World Intelligentsia and UNESCO," American Behavioral Scientist, 4 (January 1961), p. 3; Fobes, "UNESCO: Management of an International Institution . . . ," in Robert S. Jordan, ed., Multinational Cooperation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972), p. 113. 7 Adiseshiah,

206

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

Vittorino Veronese had edged forward as a man to reconcile the discordant preferences of those who engaged in Unesco. He described the 1961-1962 proposed program, for instance, as one instituting "functional integration of ac­ tivities and resources" through an agenda of projects joined in "a logical and harmonious whole." Later he spoke of having sought balance among various financial sources, and rotation in orderly sequence from one substantive priority to others. Veronese's notion of rotation accorded with a resolution by the 1958 General Conference that had ap­ pointed him: Unesco "should concentrate its efforts succes­ sively on certain particular fields of activity." Rotation to new program emphases implied termination of old ones, of course, and delegates dealt with this prospect rather gin­ gerly. The Conference did suggest that regional centers and institutes should be underwritten by Unesco finances for only a limited time. At the same time, delegates out­ lined Unesco considerations "when adopting new major projects"; thus further major projects were made to seem possible. These plenary instructions provided a flexible bar­ gaining context for the incoming Director-General and other Unesco participants. They foreclosed no one. But the concord of 1958 could not remain at such an elevated level. Veronese found the integration of activities and the balancing of resources treacherous. Program rota­ tion, when actually realized, would prove to be a result of environmental caprice as much as of planning. The question of major projects presented itself in concrete form. Should a further one be authorized? Early in 1960, Soviet representatives proposed a new endeavor entitled "promotion of peaceful coexistence and cooperation be­ tween states with different social and economic systems." The U.S. Executive Board member disparaged this as "a wholly unwarranted expenditure of resources." The pro­ posal was not approved. Other governmental participants saw the existing Latin American major project in education as a vehicle bearing

REGENERATION?

207

benefits which they might pour over into their own lands. Participants' continental origins provided a cement of sorts in aggregating claims and counter-claims. The public good of education was, in Asian eyes, best sought within Asia. Asians concerted their efforts to extend major Unesco sup­ port for education beyond Latin America before most African governments engaged at the membership level. The Indonesian Executive Board member parried his Soviet col­ league's initiative for peaceful coexistence with advice to hold back the proposal lest "such action . . . have financial repercussions entailing the suppression or reduction of other valuable activities"—notably, education in Asia. He declined to share the reservation of his Salvadorean counterpart, who had suggested that a major project in education elsewhere than in "Latin" America would be difficult because there were no common Asian languages. Indian and Philippine Board members showed their enthusiasm for a Unesco com­ mitment in Asia, the former voicing disappointment that a Programme Commission mandate from the 1958 General Conference had not led to any major project for primary education within the Director-General's draft program and budget. Veronese had deemed premature any further initia­ tive in the series of major projects before current efforts were completed and evaluated. Thus the Director-General remained true to one of his plenary assembly's guidelines at some cost to harmonious relations with participants from low-income nations. Although new major projects were barred, expanded op­ erations were not necessarily stymied. The debut of African governments in international affairs supplied considerable momentum. Clarence Beeby defined the situation in mid1961 for his fellow Board members: When they had been launched, the Major Projects had captured the imagination of the world, and had given the programme a new focus. But by that very fact they had assumed a new position within the programme, tak-

208

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

ing on a different character as they developed. The Major Project in Latin America, for example, had produced con­ crete results, and would continue with a budget of $940,000. Yet at the same time equally large programmes in Africa, Asia and . . . in the Arab States, had also been approved, although they were not entitled Major Projects. The question therefore arose as to what exactly was meant by a Major Project, and in what sense the work in Latin America differed from that to be undertaken in Africa. It would appear that with the Major Projects a certain cycle of events had come to a conclusion, and a new cycle was beginning. Unesco had started with a universal educa­ tional programme, which had been narrowed down in the Latin American Major Project. But now, with the educational programme in Africa, the problem had again become universal, and the concept of the Major Project was too specific to cover present needs. Without prevailing upon Veronese to proclaim a fourth Ma­ jor Project, then, Asians and Africans had succeeded in spreading Unesco educational efforts within their domains. The balancing of financial sources presented Veronese with related problems. Questions such as appropriate agency shares of overhead costs (for which each financing agency set out its own policy), percentage contribution by each benefiting government, whether to subcontract, and with whom, were intricate and exacting technical matters; furthermore, each seemed to generate unique political im­ plications. Nor could Veronese count upon the Board to mediate participants' intentions or to absorb the passions behind clashing priorities. That eager secretariat members sought outside funds from financing agents with diverse aims made strong leadership more difficult and more impor­ tant for Unesco. Veronese sometimes succeeded in blending older pur­ poses with newer ones. In particular, the campaign to save Abu Simbel and other Nubian temples near the Nile from

REGENEBATION?

209

inundation by Aswan waters, a project initiated during his tenure, bore the mark of genius. It fell within a certain Unesco tradition of cultural endeavor and in turn broadened the tradition. This scheme drew upon forces beyond the institution for effecting, willy-nilly, a rotation of partici­ pants' support of a substantial new undertaking. Refurbish­ ment of Egyptian and Sudanese tourist attractions carried consequences unforeseen by many participants beyond the office of the Director-General. Nubia offered an answer, finally, to European and North American claims on behalf of their superior civilizations. Veronese recounted how an Anglo-Saxon within Unesco had scolded him for wanting to save some stones when Africa's greatest need was for education. The representative of Mali (a Casablanca group partner of the U.A.R.) then had upbraided those who would deny Africans their heritage and instead propagate the cultural trappings of others. Despite formidable obstacles, the initiative to preserve Nubian monuments eventually was to achieve Unesco endorsement and fulfillment. Reconciliation of discrepant participants' preferences was more often a disconcerting job and always a wearing one, especially for a man who had not always enjoyed good health. Besides the stalwart Jean Thomas, listed as Vero­ nese's prime assistant "with special reference to the appoint­ ment of Acting Director-General" should the DirectorGeneral be incapacitated, in Maheu and Adiseshiah he had exceptionally vigorous, knowledgeable, and ambitious assist­ ants upon whom to depend. All spoke English well, a marked personal asset in the post-Evans secretariat and in financial negotiations such as those Maheu initiated with bankers and officials in Washington. Indeed, they spoke English better than Veronese did. These trusted associates commanded a grasp of detail which could complement his predilection for operating on higher planes. Yet Veronese's burden proved too great. Within a few months of his inaugu­ ration, rumors began circulating that he was resigning. He was unwell and was obliged to cut short the presentation of

210

FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

his report to the Board in June 1959. Under his physician's orders, Veronese took three months for sick leave and des­ ignated Maheu to act as Director-General in his absence. There occurred further periods of inactivity. Early in November 1961, following Veronese's absence for another extended period, a Unesco communique stated that his health was fully restored but that it was not desirable that he resume the heavy responsibilities of the DirectorshipGeneral. Vittorino Veronese had been felled by jaundice, concluded a close observer. An aide observed that he had entered the office with no conception of the amount of work necessary. Veronese was a man of great humanity, of great feeling for the individual human being, said another col­ league. And this, she felt, led to his demise as DirectorGeneral. It was "too easy for him to see the other man s position." Veronese's 1959 designation of Maheu had surprised some Unesco participants because Jean Thomas was Maheu's senior. Given this initial choice, however, Maheu's subse­ quent ascendancy is more readily understood. After three months of responsibility he was raised to the singular posi­ tion of Deputy Director-General. When Veronese again fell ill late in 1961, "Maheu had all the ropes in his hands." The Board named him interim Director-General to serve out the remaining term. As the 1962 election approached, Maheu's grasp of mat­ ters affecting Unesco was displayed by his negotiation of a structural extension for Unesco headquarters. The build­ ings at Place de Fontenoy had proved too small almost since the initial occupancy in 1958. With manifestations of French willingness, the 1960 General Conference agreed upon an addition. But now, in the springtime of 1962, the host gov­ ernment, speaking through Foreign Minister Couve de Murville, rejected the idea of any new construction on the present site. Certainly the expansion of international organ­ izations provided "cause for satisfaction to the French Gov­ ernment," declared Couve de Murville. It was "an indica-

REGENERATION?

211

tion of their vigor and their need for extra space follows as a natural consequence." But the threat remained clear: Unesco might be moved out of Paris. Maheu promised to do what he could. Late in the summer he reported to mem­ bers' representatives that "French authorities had been ex­ tremely co-operative."9 The new Unesco House unit later was built underground in Place de Fontenoy. Perhaps some Unescans drew from this experience the moral that Maheu could achieve institutional gains with the French govern­ ment that another Director-General would find impossible. By election time the interim Director-General was "pretty well established" as his own successor. The idea of such continuation did not however go entirely unchallenged. Some United Kingdom and United States officials preferred Arthur Lewis, a West Indian economist. Individual mem­ bers of the British government favored other possibilities. "One Minister wanted a noted Dutchman," recalled a Brit­ ish citizen on duty in the Unesco secretariat; "it had some­ thing to do with a trade agreement." Another leaned toward Maheu. The Prime Minister settled the matter, "maybe flipping a coin." By nomination time Maheu stood as the British favorite. Official U.S. support went tentatively to Carl W. A. Schurmann, the Dutch nominee. Schurmann had led the Netherlands' delegation to the UN General Assem­ bly and had figured prominently in recent negotiations be­ tween his government and that of Indonesia over the disposition of West New Guinea (West Irian). The Amer­ ican endorsement of him became muted after expressions of displeasure from the Philippines that the United States was not backing the local nominee, Under-Secretary of For­ eign Aifairs Salvador P. Lopez.10 9 Henry Giniger, "Growth Cramps Unesco in Paris," NYT, 4 March 1962; "Meeting of the Headquarters Committee," UC, 8 (AugustSeptember 1962), p. 299. 10 "Dutch Said to Nominate Aide to Head UNESCO," NYT, 26 August 1962; "M. Rene Maheu est designe . . . ," Le Monde, 14 September 1962.

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

Maheu received the Board's nomination with aiBrmative votes from twelve of twenty-four members—but the Gen­ eral Conference had not always complied meekly with the Board's nomination. Since the 1948 episode, furthermore, many imponderable participants had engaged in Unesco. The Conference presented no macrocosm of the Board. Thus the issue continued to be undecided as delegates gathered for the 1962 plenary session. Malcolm Adiseshiah of India remained the doughtiest of contestants. Some newer Unescans wondered whether Maheu, with his background in French diplomacy and his close identification to Veronese, was for all his verbal em­ bellishment of operational action truly committed to the mammoth reallocative demands of Unesco's low-income members. No one doubted Adiseshiah's commitment to these claims. Moreover, Soviet behavior again hinted an in­ tention to demonstrate solidarity with peoples struggling to rid themselves of the vestiges of colonialism. Here, then, was a threat that Maheu must disarm. Before the election item upon the 1962 General Confer­ ence agenda, a customary budgetary matter arose. In Unes­ co plenary meetings, the practice of voting an early ceiling on expenditures had been sanctified. This step enabled the representatives of affluent states to resist later proposals with high costs, or at least to consult over their beleaguered minority predicament with superiors back in the capital. The Executive Board brought to this Conference a resolu­ tion to limit regular expenditures for the following biennium to $38,000,000. Though only narrowly adopted by the Board, the proposed ceiling enjoyed backing by representatives of Britain, the United States, the Soviet Union, and France— large financiers all. The Soviet representative had initially wanted no more than $35 million. On the other hand, acting Director-General Maheu, supported by Berredo Carneiro of Brazil and Prem Kirpal of India, insisted upon $40 mil­ lion. Maheu refused to acquiesce in a "compromise" of $38 million: he carried his higher bid into the Conference as a

REGENERATION?

213

separate proposal. This request stood at $40,884,000 after anticipated building costs were added. Following the elec­ tion of a Director-General, conferees settled on $39 million.11 Rene Maheu succeeded to the Directorship-General by a Conference vote of 89 to 10, with 4 abstentions and 6 ab­ sences. No man had previously been selected by such a big majority. "He has won a large following in the underdevel­ oped countries," stated the New York Times.12 Maheu was understood by some close observers to have pledged Adiseshiah the position of Deputy Director-General and future support for the highest post in exchange for his present blessing. The man redesignated Director-General defined his key problem as that of filling the breach between haves and have-nots. Maheu s parents were teachers, and the illiterate paternal grandparents with whom he passed his early years had en­ gendered in him what he called a sense of the passionate 'longing of the humble for learning" that set him toward the same "austere and ennobling priesthood." He also ac­ quired an early vision of the educator's challenge upon a grander scale. Many years after his primary schooling he recalled the Emersonian admonition to hitch one's plow to a star. With scholarship aid he attained a lycee education in Toulouse and Paris, then won a place in the JEcole Normale Superieure, a formidable institution with the reputa­ tion of training synoptic minds and instilling in its graduates a sense of obligation to enlighten promising individuals wherever they might be found in the world at large. He taught philosophy for a time in French institutions upon the continent and abroad, later supplanting this form of 11 On the origins of the early voting of budget ceilings, see John H. Durston, "Unesco Agrees To Vote Budget First This Time," NYffT, 8 November 1947. For an account of the 1962 episode, see "Le Conseil Executif de 1'Unesco fixe un plafond . . . ," Le Monde, 9-10 September 1962. 12 "UNESCO Elects Maheu as Director," NYT, 15 November 1962.

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service by official duties as cultural attache and liaison of­ ficer with the British Ministry of Information. During the war he directed the press section of France-Afrique in Al­ giers and served in the civil cabinet of the French ResidentGeneral at Rabat. In 1946, his former Ecole Normale Superieure schoolmate Jean Thomas took him to visit Julian Huxley, who recruited him, as Maheu put it, for the Preparatory Commission lead­ ing toward Unesco. Maheu rose steadily. First he headed the Unesco Division of Free Flow of Information. Torres Bodet then tapped him to create and direct a French-style cabinet in 1948. Evans raised him to Assistant DirectorGeneral in 1954 and dispatched him as Unesco representa­ tive to New York the next year for reasons variously at­ tributed to his brilliance, to Maheu-Adiseshiah feuding, and to Evans' preference for Jean Thomas as chief program ad­ viser. In praising each previous Director-General (along with Thomas) during his inaugural address, Maheu ex­ pressed his gratitude to Evans for "giving me the opportu­ nity to study at first hand the administrative structure of the United Nations . . . as well as enabling me to discover America for myself." He also thanked Veronese for bringing him back to Paris in 1958. Maheu noted the demands and difficulties of his calling but said that he felt confident and determined to meet them. "Little by little," he continued, "I have merged my life with that of the Organization until today I find it very difficult to differentiate between the one and the other. . . . Indeed, I do not think that one can really work well in Unesco un­ less one understands that it is, in its essence, the expression of a mode of thought and, in its purpose, the creator of reasons for living." An unnamed predecessor about to take the oath of office had asked Conference permission to offer a short prayer to his God. Maheu distinguished his own orientation. "Believing that the whole of grace is in the history of Man," he said, "I . . . invite you to join with me in a communion of faith in the future of Man." Finally, he

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cited a maxim by "one of the greatest thinkers of our age" to an audience of delegates not always in agreement: "All that aspires converges." He had drafted many a paper for other executive man­ agers; now he had become his own guide. Maheus first challenge was to make more coherent the work of the plural­ ist Unesco secretariat, with its many links to professional interests. "Enthusiasm comes from below," editorialized The Times shortly before his election, in words widely noted within Unesco House. "Discipline has to come from the top, and much will depend on the personality of the new Direc­ tor-General." In word and deed, Maheu left little doubt of the firmness of his grip upon Unesco. He concluded the 1962 General Conference by observing a desire to clarify and "hierarchiser" relations among diverse branches of the institution. Control, restraint, delimitation—these words saw Unesco use first as ideals, though increasingly as descrip­ tions.13 Integration of funding was one key executive instrument. Maheu attributed this principle to an important decision of the General Conference; he interpreted it to mean "incor­ porating activities financed from extra-budgetary resources in the Regular [Unesco] programme" with the result that these activities were "restricted and regulated" and "the tendency to dispersion . .. in their origin checked." Maheu 13 "Question

of Priorities," The Times, 10 November 1962. Para­ graphs to follow rely largely upon Maheu, "Problems of Operational Action: A New Phase in Unesco's Progress," UC, 7 (August-Septem­ ber 1961), pp. 285-91; Maheu, "Unesco's Proposed Programme and Budget for 1963-64: General Concept and Arrangement," UC, 8 (June 1962), pp. 203-10; Maheu, "Unesco 1960-62: Developments and Prospects," UC, 8 (October 1962), pp. 331-42; Maheu, "Unesco's Adaptation to Its New Tasks," UC, 9 (April 1963), pp. 121-27; Maheu, "Unesco's Preliminary Draft Programme and Budget for 1965-66," UC, 9 (October 1963), pp. 322fF.; Maheu, excerpt from introduction to Draft Programme for 1965-66, UC, 10 (June 1964), p. 227; Maheu, "Unesco Since 1962: Evolution and Future Pros­ pects," UC, 10 (October 1964), pp. 301-16.

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tapped the compendium-like knowledge of a secretariat of­ ficial of Chinese ancestry who had earlier trained in the U.S. Bureau of the Budget. The Director-General himself acted as proximate mediator of the purposes for which monies were integrated. Other controls upon Unesco choices in­ cluded Maheus appointment of appropriate secretariat officers to handle liaison with principal funding agencies such as the Special Fund (SF); the compilation of a shop­ ping list of project preferences to direct Unesco's men in tempering what was locally referred to as the capricious way in which SF officials selected the Special Fund's early projects; the use of the aide-memoire to formalize Unesco agreement with a visited government upon selected projects of mutual interest, thereby focusing that government's pref­ erences upon projects to be contracted by SF for Unesco execution; and the establishment of proscriptions upon sec­ retariat communications to outside agencies regarding finan­ cial support without clearance from the top. Maheu chose a loyal, peripatetic, and politically shrewd cabinet to ob­ serve, inform, and advise him upon happenings within the Unesco staff. Maheu stressed program concentration less than had Evans; however, the French Director-General did speak of program unity or "vertical equilibrium" as the "natural con­ sequence" of resource integration. At the same time he ad­ vised Unesco participants not to "lose sight of the need for horizontal balance" among program segments in order to in­ sure overall harmony. "It would be most dangerous," he cau­ tioned, "to condemn . . . sectors of the programme which do not enjoy massive budget support. These are an essen­ tial, an integral part of Unesco's mission according to its Constitution; they are, we might even say, its primary source and ultimate end." Here was a word of reassurance to par­ ticipants in Unesco's cultural activities. Convergence was another theme in Maheu's doctrine. The Director-General described the problem of shaping intel­ lectual cooperation and operational action into "an organic

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whole." If these Unesco ways could be accommodated by converging them rather than by balancing one against the other, so much the better. Maheu was confident. He held periodic hearings of secretariat professionals from across Unesco's program sectors under his forceful tutelage. "Evans tried horizontalism; Maheu has achieved it," said a secretariat member friendly to both. Veronese had spoken eloquently of harmony. His successor enforced it. Within a prescribed ambit, operational action would be given its head. Maheu initially elaborated its justification and in time its scope. Unesco's "primary aim was to stim­ ulate, compare, and test ideas," he said in 1981. The new Unesco had "finally left behind the phase of token or ex­ perimental action and entered upon an era of practical achievement," he later stated. He scorned pilot projects be­ cause Unesco had become "committed to action." The ap­ propriate scope of this action developed through reinterpretation as well as through pressures from needy participants. Maheu first held operational activities to describe Unesco projects undertaken at governments' requests and with their cooperation on "the level of practical national life and with a view to influencing it directly." By 1964 he had enriched this notion: Operational action may be described as any form of activ­ ity which comes to grips with practical realities and seeks to introduce useful changes in their general pattern or individual aspect. It is this direct intervention which dis­ tinguishes it from the forms of activity designed as a stimulus or demonstration, for their effectiveness is indi­ rect and conditional, dependent as it is on a transposition of results, as the result of some external decision, if practi­ cal action is to follow. Such [direct] intervention not only requires far more extensive resources but is based on the assumption that a set of psychological and even political conditions exists, without which there can be no question of participation in the life of a given society.

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Operational action now was identified with direct Unesco intervention as such rather than with any specific content. To the promoters of direct intervention, in Unesco and with­ in member states, Maheu's message intimated vastly ex­ panded support. And the new definition of operational ac­ tion seemed to invite engaged individuals to show that they were among the select whose psychic and political openness would enable Unesco to participate in the life of their so­ cieties. "All that aspires converges." The coming phase of Unesco, Maheu foresaw, consisted in helping members to plan for their futures. Planning invited application to every Unesco field. For Maheu, like Huxley, however, some fields assumed the character of means and others the status of ends. Per­ haps the ends constituted an apex to Maheu s own hierarchy of values. He once said that education was "not so much a substantive discipline as a method of introduction and preparation for the life of the mind." Mass communication and international exchange he held to be "media and tech­ niques of intercommunication which meet certain practical social requirements of that same mind." If so, the full mean­ ing of Unesco's vocation lay in science and ultimately in culture. "It is here that the final ends which condition both the convergences and the meaning of the manifold activities must be sought." He wrote in late 1964 that "although Unesco is helping its member states ever more effectively on the road of intellectual and technical progress, through education and science, it is, as we all appreciate, in the realm of cultural values that the decisive steps productive of freedom and brotherhood will have to be taken. It is then that we shall see the fulfillment of the true Unesco, whose final emergence is merely foreshadowed by our present ef­ forts."14 Ii Maheu, "Educational Planning, A Necessity of Our Time," UC, 8 (May 1962), p. 166; "Unesco's . . . for 1965-66," p. 323; "Unesco Since 1962 . . . ," pp. 315-16.

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Unescans continued to differ upon their institution's prop­ er field of priority. But in 1960, on the initiative of Sir David Eccles, British Minister of Education, and under Britain's co-sponsorship with the Indian delegation, a General Con­ ference resolution declared education to be Unesco's fore­ most concern. With only Soviet and associated delegates abstaining, the Conference approved a budget including record amounts for this sector.15 Educational expenditures clearly were intended by Con­ ference delegates for educationally deprived peoples with low per capita real income, many in the process of decolo­ nization. The erupting Congo served merely as the most dramatic immediate claim; much jockeying was yet to come over where exactly to devote scarce resources. A situation that Maheu analyzed cogently at mid-decade had been recognized earlier by some sensitive observers: Motivation [for education] exists and it wells up from mass yearnings. Neither international organizations nor even governments create it. The truth is quite the con­ trary. Confronting governments and organizations, the yearning of the world's peoples for education appears as a gigantic wave swelling and threatening to break and sweep away everything in its path if it is not harnessed in time to irrigate rationally the vast areas that it can render fertile. This demand for education is universal and irresistible for it is directly linked to the triple appeal of national development, national freedom, and individual dignity.16 Although the 1960 clamor for education as the paramount Unesco concern arose from spokesmen pointing toward the 15 Cf. "UNESCO Approves Record Spending," NYT, 20 November 1960. 16 Address to ECOSOC, July 1965, in What Is Unesco? (Paris: Unesco, 1966), p. 23.

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southern hemisphere, occasional voices addressed latent ed­ ucational needs elsewhere. Philip H. Coombs, Program Director of the Ford Foundation's Education Division, dur­ ing the same year told an American audience that "almost everything that the schools and colleges are doing is obso­ lete and inadequate today. This applies to the curriculum, to the arrangements for teacher training, to textbooks, to organization, to methods of teaching and of learning, to school architecture." Coombs called for "a revolution . . . so that we can catch up and keep up with our rapidly mounting educational needs."17 Everyone, then, lacked truly appropriate education. But only some wanted interna­ tional assistance in approaching it. How the Unesco priority for education would be man­ aged remained a question obscure in the minds of delegates, as well as others, beyond the 1960 Conference proceedings. Some rudimentary decisions had been made, though not all were irreversible. The major project in Latin America aimed efforts toward primary education. Director-General Luther Evans, to the contrary, had favored other kinds of educa­ tion. Back in 1957, he reflected, "when the secretariat was working on plans for aiding African education in the 19591969 program, it was taken for granted by nearly everyone concerned that primary education was entitled to an over­ whelming, almost devastating, priority. I challenged this, and finally gained acceptance for emphasis on technical ed­ ucation at the high school level and on general secondary education." Immediately, perhaps, this seemed the final judgment; shortly it proved more uncertain. Veronese, ques­ tioned in 1959 about educational assistance to Africa, re­ sponded by adverting to the notion of lifelong education Httle heard since the earliest days of Unesco: "Unesco will give priority during the coming years to the development of secondary and vocational education," he said. "It is in these fields that the most urgent needs are felt. But man's 17 Coombs, "The Technical Frontiers of Education," Sir John Adams lecture at UCLA, 15 March I960.

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education does not stop with the end of his schooling, and we must endeavour to make it permanent."18 Several options thus offered precedents. Unprecedented educational ap­ proaches were of course not necessarily precluded either. Educational aspirations for the new decade appeared in the fashionable language of planning.19 Latin Americans had outlined a pattern in their major project that others now would develop: that of setting continental standards of ed­ ucational achievement to guide the efforts of peoples and their leaders. Representatives who gathered at meetings on other continents throughout the 1950s defined their parts in the emerging scheme. The Inter-American Seminar on Over-All Educational Planning, held in Washington during June 1958, focused educational designs and encouraged their planners. A contemporary request from one key Latin American planner to IBRD reportedly brought only a re­ sponse that the solicited institution was not a school board but a bank. However, XJnesco's 1958 General Conference in­ vited the newly elected Veronese to undertake surveys of the existing educational situation in Asia, in the Arabicspeaking areas, and in tropical Africa, thus suggesting that delegates were eyeing the prospect of future support from IBRD and other international sources of financing. Unesco secretariat members and other educationalists moved for­ ward with confidence in setting their targets. Available data were supplemented through questionnaires to member gov­ ernments. Interested experts made site visits to gather evi­ dence. Indigenous consultants from surveyed continents filled out official pictures of educational needs. 18 Evans, "Some Management Problems . . . ," p. 87; Veronese, "Unesco's Tasks in Africa," UC, 5 (June 1959), p. 206. 19 Following paragraphs draw upon annual reports of the DirectorGeneral and upon UC, but benefit also from "£22,OOOm Plan for Education," The Times, 11 January 1960; "Education Held Key for Poorer Nations," NYT, 19 March 1960; "18-Nation Plan to Educate Asia," The Times, 3 April 1962; "African Ministers Meet," TES, 6 April 1962; Franklin Parker, "Unesco at 20: Swords and Plowshares," School and Society, 94 (26 November 1966), p. 412.

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In Karachi at the turn of the decade, representatives from 17 member states adopted a series of recommendations and a working plan for providing universal compulsory and free primary education within twenty years. Based on a Unesco survey, this plan included a statistical summary of "needs and necessary resources." The Karachi plan proposed pri­ mary education for all Asians by 1980 at an anticipated cost of $65,000,000,000. This scheme offered "a kind of regional framework for the preparation of national plans," as Mal­ colm Adiseshiah put it. Ministers of education urged that their own governments "provide maximum resources from . . . national budgets which," this document assured them, would "continuously increase with the economic develop­ ment of the[ir] countries." Obviously, much of the money would have to come from sources beyond Asia. Some Asians advocated a collateral Unesco International Fund for Pri­ mary Education. The meeting in Karachi thus raised com­ mon aspirations, engendered expectations for assistance from outside the continent, and suggested possibilities for concerting pressures on behalf of these expectations. Sub­ sequent meetings, including one in Tokyo during 1962, further considered means to apply the Asian standards pre­ viously adopted. Occasionally these sessions revised gov­ ernmental targets in the light of such happenings as popu­ lation explosion and war. Elsewhere conferees differed only in detailing their needs and in specifying the sequence by which they should be addressed. Arab representatives from 9 states hit on the central idea that educational planning contributed to eco­ nomic and social development in general. This idea Maheu praised as "particularly opportune and calculated to open encouraging prospects." Although the 1958 General Con­ ference had not even foreseen a meeting of Africans, in Feb­ ruary 1960 the representatives of 22 states and territories met beneath the Unesco standard in Addis Ababa. Here African spokesmen, classed remotely in observers' ideolog-

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ical categories, charted their course in education and dis­ cussed other political matters that some western newspapers deemed more newsworthy. This parley resumed under the auspices of the UN Economic Commission for Africa in May 1961 with representatives from 39 political units. Free and universal primary education was resolved for 1980, along with secondary education for 30 percent of primary-school leavers and higher education for 20 percent of secondaryschool graduates. One educational need led to another in a series lent co­ herence by the theme of planning. Malcolm Adiseshiah stated "that free and compulsory primary education cannot be attained without a similar expansion of secondary edu­ cation, which has to provide the teachers for the primary schools; this enlargement of secondary education in turn will not be possible without an appropriate expansion of higher education in each country." Maheu, from Beirut, held indispensable a general plan "comprising all levels and types of education and adaptable to a continually changing social and economic situation." No one had put higher ed­ ucation on the Africans' agenda, but Jean Thomas indicated that "the opinion was unanimously expressed that all levels of education were closely linked and that the development of education . . . should be considered as a whole and in all its range." Unesco's Convention against Discrimination in Education (CDE) constituted a human right in its form and in its con­ cern for individual aspiration. It also suggested a device for governments—and more specifically for ministries of edu­ cation—to apply pressure for the reallocation of scarce re­ sources to educational programs. Spokesmen for ILO, the pioneer agency in setting and applying international stand­ ards, had sought unsuccessfully at the London conference to achieve a forthright provision for equal educational op­ portunity in the Unesco Constitution. Between 1945 and 1960 the world and Unesco changed considerably. Without

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opposition the 1960 General Conference formally adopted CDE.20 Two years later the General Conference added a protocol establishing good offices and conciliation proce­ dures for disputes among acceding state parties. The amplitude of "discrimination" and "education" with­ in CDE perplexed academics who classify rights as old or as new in origin, as civil and political, or as social, economic, and cultural in character. The convention proscribed "any distinction, exclusion, limitation or preference which, being based on race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, economic condition or birth, has the purpose or effect of nullifying or impair­ ing equality of treatment in education." Certain CDE pro­ visions served as standards which various educationalists might invoke in pressing for educational extension through Unesco or other auspices: The States Parties to this Convention undertake . . . to formulate, develop and apply a national policy which, by methods appropriate to the circumstances and to national usage, will tend to promote equality of opportunity and of treatment in the matter of education and in particular . . . [t]o make primary education free and compulsory; make secondary education in its different forms generally available and accessible to all; make higher education equally accessible to all on the basis of individual capac­ ity; assure compliance by all with the obligation to attend school prescribed by law. This pledge furnished aspirants a lever with which to strive for educational advancement. Who, after all, could oppose such hopes? But levers are not leverage, and it remained to be seen beyond the adoption and ratification of CDE with what serious intentions governments had acted. Much the same was true of the charter for teachers. Now 20 Conference for the Establishment . . . , p. 99; "UNESCO Parley Opens," NY T, 14 June 1960.

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at last this dream seemed on the verge of realization. A rising demand for recruits to teach the aspiring multitudes made action especially timely. In 1966, ILO and Unesco joined in bringing experts of twenty-nine nationalities to Geneva, where they prepared a draft recommendation on the status of teachers. Besides prior exploration by partici­ pants in the Bureau international d'education (BIE) and by other specialists, the Geneva work was foreshadowed by proposals from Unesco and ILO staifs and observations from member governments. The Geneva gathering was fol­ lowed by a conference at Unesco House, where govern­ mental delegations from some 80 states voted an interna­ tional instrument with the force of recommendation. This charter called for standards in teacher training; for im­ proved status of teachers through more rewarding salaries, better promotion opportunities, social security benefits, and other means to improve recruitment and set training norms for "upgrading . . . the teaching profession"; and for teach­ ers' participation, by themselves and through their nongov­ ernmental organizations, in elaborating educational policy as well as in determining working conditions. The confer­ ence, adopting this charter, invited Unesco and ILO to apply the recommended standards by "concerted measures . . . based on the constitutional provisions" of the two in­ stitutions. What would actually happen was not clear. Educational planning, as Maheu testified by his TeiIhardIike dictum about aspirations, could have few detractors. This notion gained impetus from a 1959 Paris meeting con­ vened by the French National Commission and during the same year from a brief Unesco Chronicle article by secre­ tariat member Leo Fernig. Philip Coombs, Assistant Secre­ tary of State in the Kennedy administration, suggested to officials of Unesco and the Organization for Economic Co­ operation and Development that they set up an institute for educational planning. Maheu disclosed that an Educa­ tional Planning Unit had been established within the secre­ tariat in November 1961. Unescans promoted centers for

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training educational personnel in Beirut and New Delhi. They negotiated for the inclusion of educational planning sections within the economic planning institutes established as adjuncts to UN regional commissions for Latin America, Asia, and Africa. During June 1962 a group of educational experts gathered by Unesco acknowledged that benefits might be realized through an international institute for ed­ ucational planning. Studies leading to a BIE-Unesco report spoke of a "world-wide lack of professionalism in educa­ tional planning." The 1962 General Conference voted to create an International Institute for Educational Planning (IIEP). IBRD and Ford Foundation assistance assured IIEP's establishment in Paris during 1963. Rene Maheu ap­ pointed Coombs its founding director.21 Adult education programs in Unesco had long constituted the special province of spokesmen from certain higher-in­ come areas, notably Europe and Canada. Fundamental ed­ ucation had appealed more to Unesco representatives from states in the southern hemisphere during Jaime Torres Bodet's period. As recently as the early 1950s, the task of teaching adults how to read and write their spoken lan­ guage seemed to promise a strong and permanent Unesco endeavor. With Torres Bodet's departure, however, Unesco's plan for a global network of fundamental education centers gradually faded and CREFAL (in Mexico) and ASFEC (in Egypt) continued on more restricted bases. The impetus toward adult literacy was further deprived of vitality when primary education became the focus of the Latin American major project and subsequently of schemes elsewhere. In response to a question in 1959 about what Unesco could do 21 Fernig, "Long-Term Needs in the Field of Education," UC, 5 (August-September 1959), pp. 271-74; "Educational Planning," MG, 31 August 1962. The phrase "educational planning" did not of course spring forth in 1959. I. L. Kandel, for one, had cautioned Unesco draftsmen many years earlier that "Educational planning, no matter how desirable the goals may be, cannot be divorced from political, social, and economic planning without risk of failure." "Educational Utopias," The Annals, 235 (September 1944), p. 45.

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for education in Africa, Vittorino Veronese had merely offered a hope that African governments might send repre­ sentatives to the Second World Conference on Adult Edu­ cation to be held the following year in Montreal. At this 1960 Canadian meeting, literacy campaigns received passing attention as one variation upon the conference theme of adult education in a changing world. Before long, Africans and others lambasted "fundamental education" as a device to relegate those touched by such programs to second-class global status in a perpetual condition of underdevelopment. Thus the secretariat retired this label and subsumed re­ maining practice under the rubric of adult education. "Of course," a French staff educationalist later said, "the actual programs go on as before." At the behest of newly engaging participants, literacy for adults re-emerged as an issue during the early 1960s. Rene Maheu found many governments interested in literacy dur­ ing his visits with chiefs of state. The Soviet member of Unesco's Executive Board proposed an international con­ ference on illiteracy; his colleagues endorsed the spirit of his proposal but a predominant number indicated that they felt that his timing was inopportune. However, General Conference delegates did authorize a study of existing na­ tional programs to be conducted under the Director-General's supervision. A resulting questionnaire brought to headquarters some 67 responses, many going beyond exist­ ing conditions—perhaps not unexpectedly—to report what ought instead to obtain. In New York, a 1961 Ukrainian proposal received more solicitude at the hands of UN Gen­ eral Assembly delegations than had the earlier Soviet initia­ tive. The Assembly resolution invited Unesco to undertake a general review of the question of eradicating "mass illit­ eracy throughout the world, with the object of working out concrete and effective measures, at the international and national levels, for such education." The Ukrainian, Czech, and Venezuelan spokesmen contended that colonial systems slowed education in order to insure cheap labor, but some

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of those under fire countered that no direct relationship obtained between colonialism and illiteracy. Despite abra­ sive debate, the resolution was unanimously adopted. Even the South African representative had joined in deploring inattention to education.22 Within months a Unesco-convened meeting of experts urged governments to establish national bodies at minis­ terial level with "the authority, scope, and means to encour­ age, persuade and assist all appropriate organizations in the state to share in the battle against illiteracy," and counseled the provision of national budget items of "realistic size to enable the work to go forward." The report reassured par­ ticipants deeply engaged in the host institution: "As a result of its many pioneering activities in this field, Unesco is well poised to increase its assistance . . . to a world-wide pro­ gramme for developing and sustaining the battle for adult literacy. For this reason the establishment of any new world authority is not advocated."23 Now the designers of this literacy proposition began to recognize its magnitude and its difficulties. Over 700,000,000 adults apparently were unable to read and write their native tongues. Certain languages had no alphabets. The number and perhaps the percentage of all adults illiterate was rising. In some national populations 80 percent of adults were analphabetes. Effective action necessitated massive mobili­ zation, appropriate organization, the allocation or realloca­ tion of vast resources. Asked by a Le Monde interviewer soon after his election why Unesco should not sacrifice everything else to pursue a literacy campaign, Rene Maheu replied that his institu­ tion s role did not consist in making the world literate but 22United

Nations, United Nations Yearbook, 1961 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963). Basil Karp provides further illumi­ nating details in "Unesco's Adult Literacy Campaign," monograph in progress. 23 Extracts from the report appear in "A Project for a World Liter­ acy Campaign," UC, 8 (November 1962), pp. 379-83.

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in animating key sectors of Unesco's constituency to do so. In 1964 a panel of experts recommended a phased program to begin with experimental undertakings in a limited num­ ber of pilot literacy projects chosen to emphasize societal sectors where people already employed could use literacy competence in their regular work. This approach was known as functional literacy. Without substantial modification the 1964 General Conference endorsed this proposal. An experi­ mental program would run from 1966 to 1970, undergo eval­ uation, then perhaps enjoy expansion. By spring of the in­ itial year, 45 governments had submitted their applications for selection in accordance with criteria on functional po­ tential and considerations of geographic distribution. Each applicant government pledged high priority to work-ori­ ented literacy projects, even if its proposal were not chosen for international assistance. The Shah of Iran donated to the campaign for literacy the equivalent of one day's national military expenditure, bidding others to follow his lead. Malian decision-makers later did so. International teams visited Algeria, Ecuador, Iran, Pakistan, and Tanganyika. The United Nations Development Programme reached de­ cisions to pre-invest resources in literacy projects for Al­ geria, Ecuador, Iran, and Tanganyika. Mali also received a contract. War engaged Pakistan.24 Torres Bodet had tried too early to capitalize upon Unes­ co's educational potential, said a secretariat member during the 1960s. By Maheu's time the situation had ripened. The happy combination of a "farsighted" Evans and a com­ mitted Adiseshiah turned this corner, remarked another high Unesco official: Maheu, a "smart operator," was reap­ ing the product of prior efforts. Still another observer of 24 "Une Interview au 'Monde' de M. Rene Maheu," Le Monde, 16-17 December 1962; "Preparation of a World Literacy Campaign," UC, 9 (January 1963), pp. 28-29; "A Decisive Step for a World Campaign Against Illiteracy," UC, 10 (January 1964), pp. 9-11; Seth Spaulding, "The UNESCO World Literacy Program: A New Strategy That May Work," Adult Education, 16 (Winter 1966), pp. 72-3; UN doc. E/4214 of 23 May 1966.

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Directors-General noted that the French incumbent had encouraged educational aspiration without losing his Euro­ pean constituency. To expand primary education, adult literacy, perhaps also lifelong education—these decisions were fraught with far-reaching problems of implementation. They necessitated the preparation of personnel, the creation of educational materials, the construction of school buildings. All these tasks bore profound financial implications; none would prove as straightforward as reallocating scarce resources from haves to have-nots. The enterprisers needed a potent justification or "theory," as Unescans referred to it, for fi­ nancing education. That educational investment advances the general economic welfare had long served as a staple assertion of teacher-training institutions in some parts of the world. It was a proven tactic for surviving the decisions by allocators of public domestic monies. Now a comparable justification was necessary at the international level. Educa­ tion must be recognized as serving development. Two juries seemed of primary importance. Governments, in the first place, determined the distribution of resources at home and sent representatives to various intergovernmental organiza­ tions that judged such matters. Economists, for their part, mediated between the theory and practice of using scarce resources, thereby legitimizing allocative choices. Governments' delegates to the 1960 General Conference unanimously accepted the principle, as Maheu afterwards interpreted it, "that education is a basic component of eco­ nomic development and that it accordingly represents an investment just as fundamental as the building of roads to facilitate communications or the organization of medical services to maintain health." Representatives of African educational constituencies meeting in Addis Ababa "con­ cluded that under appropriate conditions education is a gainful economic investment which contributes to the eco­ nomic growth of the country." The same conferees urged educational and manpower planning boards within minis-

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tries of education to assure "that education is given due weight as a productive investment and a basic factor in de­ velopment." A conference of the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) agreed in 1961 that "educational investment is an essential part of economic investment." Western governments' dread of planning was eased by a timely assurance that France actually had pio­ neered educational planning, and that the Soviet Union s first five-year plan offered a classic instance of low yield due to inadequate investment in the same. Planning also became more palatable to OECD participants as they recog­ nized that it was contemplated for application to others' educational systems more than their own. To this extent governments were reconciling themselves to claims on be­ half of investment in education. African ministers of edu­ cation convening later in Abidjan offered their resolution to the problem of how education helps development in these words: "literacy, which is the starting point for a minimum vocational training and the upgrading of workers, in the wider framework of continuing adult education, contributes to productivity, the development of industry and conse­ quently the better utilization of natural resources, and to prosperity in general." Thus did national officials endorse, in principle, the potency of education for all-around devel­ opment.25 Economists seemingly presented a more stubborn pros­ pect. They were conservative, in the view of certain Unesco staff members, and to such observers their habitual writings suggested that man was an afterthought, that he inhabited those unexamined ceteris paribus premises, or that he was a problem for the absent colleague. Nonetheless, the glacial shifts of economists' interests were moving some men 25 Quotations respectively from Director-General's report for 1961, p . xviii; " A Plan for the Development of Education in Africa," U C , 7 (July 1961), pp. 251-52; Darsie Gillie, "Education as an Investment," MG, 18 October 1961; Director-General's report for 1964, p. 27. See also "Development in Africa," TES, 2 June 1961, p. 1138.

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into development questions, hence a few nudges might suffice. Lionization a la Unesco awaited any scholars pro­ ducing theories and findings that showed how education yields development. Merely to yoke economists with educa­ tionalists on field missions did not necessarily demonstrate "the close relationship between literacy and economic de­ velopment" that the Director-General's report had once claimed.28 However, it did help rationalize these expedi­ tions and socialize the somber partners for new roles. In the meantime, Unescans tried their own hands at explana­ tion. Mahdi Elmandjra, a rising young Moroccan, quoted Al­ fred Sauvy: "The essential factor of development is not cap­ ital, as was long held, but the knowledge of men and their aptitude to create wealth." Malcolm Adiseshiah lectured Africans in Addis Ababa on the priority claims of education for development. An observer previewed the 1961 educa­ tion ministers' conference in the same city with a candid observation that programs would be "planned on the prin­ ciple that education is not only a good thing but a paying thing. American and French statisticians have . . . demon­ strated that money sensibly spent on education can be re­ lied on to bring in a 7 percent return." The DirectorGeneral's report for 1961 alluded to unspecified recent studies showing that "in developed economies a large pro­ portion of economic growth—even as much as 90 percent . . . must be attributed to residual factors" of which educa­ tion was "one of the most important." Before a Cambridge audience Adiseshiah singled out Japan as a prime example of economic growth through education. Education, con­ cluded a Unesco brief, "produces the skills, attitudes, per­ sonalities and milieux upon which modern technology and organization rests." And education yields a very high margin of indirect returns since it is aimed directly at modifying people rather than things. It 26

Director-General's report for 1965, p. 29.

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is always easier to produce or replace consumer goods than it is to create the skilled manpower which makes them. Besides, education also acts to promote self-disci­ pline, to widen horizons, to open up fresh opportunities, to create markets—in short, it lends range, flexibility and scope to society itself.27 By the middle 1960s, economists were contributing to this mode of analysis and to its attendant prescription. Unesco and IIEP published some studies, OECD others, commer­ cial publishers others yet. Frederick H. Harbison, Theodore W. Schultz, and John Vaizey, among others, became giants in the view of Unescans. When economists attacked, as Thomas Balogh did by holding that education programs would draw further millions of people from the land to urban ills, Unesco planners adapted their program designs or sought by other means, including co-optation of critics, to pacify the attackers. A modest claim of intellectual lead­ ership lay behind the Director-General's observation: "Ex­ perts in economics and finance once looked upon problems of economic development without considering human re­ sources. That day is long gone. Today, it is more and more clear that development depends to a large extent—and even to a primordial extent—upon a rational use of human re­ sources." "Considered as a whole," Maheu reported in 1965, "education is no longer in need of promotion."28 Faced by 27 Elmandjra, "The New Africa and Unesco," UC, 7 (February 1961), pp. 49-52; Gillie, "A New Note in Education in Africa?," MG, 18 April 1961; Gillie, "UNESCO Gets to Grips with Education," MG, 8 June 1961; "Distant 5 Per Cent," The Economist, 203 (28 April 1962), p. 333; "The Economic and Social Implications of Ed­ ucational Planning," UC, 8 (December 1962), p. 419. 28 What Is Unesco?, pp. 22-23. Timely contributions to the theory of education for development included Vaizey, The Economics of Education (London: Faber and Faber, 1962); Schultz, The Eco­ nomic Value of Education (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963); Harbison and Charles A. Myers, Education, Manpower and Economic Growth (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964); OECD, The

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claims from scientific quarters, he had long since begun to apply subtle restraints to the educational sectors of Unesco. If education for development was salable, the impor­ tance of science for development seemed initially so selfevident to its Unesco expositors as to demand no special persuasive efforts. Planning by men of science had pro­ ceeded in orderly fashion. Following his retirement from Unesco, Pierre Auger directed a survey on the main trends of inquiry in the natural sciences and their application for peaceful ends. Auger organized his volume according to human needs as he and others sensed them rather than following the outline of academic science. Unesco scientists scheduled their work for the decade of the 1960s with ref­ erence to such Augerian topics as oceanography, hydrology, the use of arable lands, conservation, ecosystems, pollution and radiation, energy, natural resources, telecommunica­ tions, the organization and coordination of national science policies. The report's implications for organizing internationally did not make themselves immediately clear. Auger had nev­ er fully reconciled himself to the judgment of Unesco found­ ers when they had assigned science to Unesco rather than fitting scientists with their own organization. Perhaps sci­ entific transnationalists should have bided their time, he said some years later. His 1960 study mixed plaudits for Unesco's initiatives with itemized tasks that begged for new agencies. Its conclusion noted a lack of applied science and technology within the family of UN agencies, a lack which might be rectified "by establishing either an appropriate service within the United Nations family itself, or a new organization which would concentrate on the technological Residual Factor and Economic Growth (Paris: OECD, 1964). Adam Curie is more skeptical about prospects of realizing gains in Educa­ tional Strategy for Developing Societies (London: Tavistock, 1963).

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questions involved in the integrated development of eco­ nomic and geographical regions." Auger tempered this pro­ posal with the suggestion that international organizers take into account the current global situation as it affected exist­ ing nongovernmental and intergovernmental organizations. His challenge was widely and favorably noted in scientific circles. Yet for a time the possibility of rival organizational claimants in international science and technology was not seriously contemplated at the highest levels of Unesco. Maheus approach to the natural sciences suggested flexi­ bility though no extraordinary attention. The DirectorGeneral stated on behalf of his institution s science sector in 1961 that "we have to be attentive to all aspects of cre­ ative mental activity. Yesterday it was atomic energy, today it is outer space. Things move so fast. Priorities? Yes, but they must not be exclusive. Tomorrow—who knows—it may be computation, or oceanography, or [with a smile] some­ thing else devoid of practical importance."29 A December 1960 Cairo conference attended by repre­ sentatives from several Arab states and Turkey, along with consultants from Britain, France, and the U.S.S.R., aroused interest in the planning and practical applications of science among participant governments bent upon development. In mid-1962 a larger group met in the same city. Official repre­ sentatives and observers from 36 states of Asia, Africa, Latin America, and Yugoslavia composed a Cairo Declaration of Developing Countries that recommended that participating governments take full advantage of a forthcoming Confer­ ence of the United Nations on the application of Science and Technology for the benefit of the developing countries by preparing for "the possibility of establishing an agency for science and technology for the promotion of the tech­ nological advancement and the building up of the scientific structure in the developing countries." This 1963 United Nations Conference on Science and Technology for de29Auger, Current Trends in Scientific Research (Paris: Unesco, 1961), especially pp. 220-21; "A World of Understanding," pp. 80-81.

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velopment (UNCSAT), wrote John Walsh in Science years afterward, proved a watershed event for Unesco. "Some observers say that nothing had a more galvanizing effect . . . than the muttering in the lobbies about the possibility of setting up a separate agency to handle the fostering of science and technology." Rene Maheu addressed the meet­ ing in a bid for central Unesco responsibility. His words also indirectly recalled the vision of Luther Evans. For many people, assisting the technological development of countries which are still, to some extent, behindhand, boils down to a problem of transfer and of "know-how," coupled with the problem of material equipment, as if it were simply a matter, as Plato put it, of pouring water into an empty pitcher from one that is too full. . . . But however useful, even necessary, the transfer of knowl­ edge may be in definite sectors of economic development and for specific purposes, and whatever proportions it may have assumed in international co-operation, I be­ lieve it would be a mistake—and a very serious one—to think that this transfer alone can solve the problem of assisting the technological advancement of underdevel­ oped countries. Unesco already had a mandate, and his own institution was in a better position than others to create the vital intellec­ tual milieux for science in developing societies. The needs of science and technology must be distilled from broader streams of education: "I would say that, imperative though the need for specialists and technicians may be, it would be running the risk of serious disappointments to overlook the fact that specialized technical training, at any level, pre­ supposes a rather more general technical education which, in turn, must rest on a general scientific education and even on general education, pure and simple."30 30 "Science Planning, Development and Cooperation in the Coun­ tries of the Middle East and North Africa," Nature, 189 (4 February

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Maheu and other Unescans were not alone in this desire. Representatives from the United States and other major po­ tential donors expressed alarm at the prospect of expensive additional machinery. Even in other UN specialized agen­ cies "a cold chill ran down backs," as one man close to the action described it, indicating fear of a new agency's com­ petition for attention, funds, and jurisdiction over boundarycrossing problems. Unesco commentators noted the role of Unesco collaboration in organizing UNCSAT, listed 15 UNCSAT papers presented by Unescans, and claimed an institutional interest in at least 9 of 12 UNCSAT sessional topics. The Director-General secured his Executive Board's authorization for increasing the prominence of science and technology within Unesco. In an example of what the New York Times called the "nonpolitical work of the United Nations," Maheu asked and received an increase in the science budget of over 50 percent.31 The General Confer­ ence in 1964 formally accorded science a Unesco status com­ mensurate to that of education. How would scientifically undernourished peoples devel­ op? Unesco tactics by scientists approximated those under­ taken by educationalists. At Lagos in 1964, science-minded representatives from 29 African states pledged themselves to generate 200 scientists per million population by 1980. Subsequent conferences identified needs and proposed reso­ lutions of commitment upon other continents. Unescans worked to promote local organizing by governments. "Since 1961), pp. 362-64; UN doc. E/3682 of 27 July 1962; Walsh, "Unesco: Director-General Stakes Out Broader Responsibilities in Applying Research to Development," Science, 142 (25 October 1963), pp. 47071; Walsh, "Stress on Development Brings Parity for Science," Sci­ ence, 154 (25 November 1966), p. 991; Maheu, "Conditions for In­ dependent Scientific and Technological Development," UC, 9 (March 1963), pp. 87-91. 31 "Unesco and the Geneva Conference on the Application of Science and Technology," UC, 9 (March 1963), pp. 85-86; see also p. 98; "UNESCO to Aid New Nations By Doubling Science Projects," NYT, 7 July 1963.

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most Member States have as yet no domestic policy towards science," wrote secretariat official Hilliard Roderick in 1962, "it is unrealistic to expect them to have a foreign policy to­ wards science and to know what they want done interna­ tionally. The result is that Unesco gets few specific requests and instructions concerning science from Governments."32 Continental meetings of national spokesmen for science in­ duced governments to consult; the evangelic atmosphere of these meetings, with their message that international assistance to science was possible in certain circumstances, encouraged national delegates to formalize their domestic status when they got back home. Ministries of science and technology soon appeared where they had not before ex­ isted. To the thinking of Unescans, organization for the applica­ tion of science and technology required international branches and sources of energy as well as these national points of contact. Victor A. Kovda, Director of the Depart­ ment of Natural Sciences and a citizen of the Soviet Union, announced in late 1960 that Unesco would develop an ad­ visory service for member states,83 and Unesco increasingly underwrote small ventures originating, it seemed, from governments in the southern hemisphere. During 1965 a Unesco panel of consultants considered the role of science and technology in economic development under such topics as the application of existing knowledge for development, the standardization of scientific and technological terminol­ ogy, and the study of the phenomenon of scientific propa­ gation, regarding which a Unesco source observed that no "precise theory" had yet been created. Soon the virtues of science and technology for development began to be cele­ brated in scholarly works. In New York, UNDP decision­ makers warmed to the possibilities of pre-investment for in32 Roderick, "The Future Natural Sciences Programme of Unesco," Nature, 195 (21 July 1962), pp. 215-22. 33 Kovda, "The Natural Sciences Programme," UC, 6 (November 1960), pp. 396-403.

BEGENEBATION?

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dustrialization, though by no means did they intend this industrial development to be executed solely by Unesco. Development did not preempt attention within the science sector of Unesco. Even upon Unesco science assignments originally scheduled for the new decade, however, the con­ cern for development made an impression. Basic science, previously billed as assignment number 1 for the 1960s, was modified in practice so as to accommodate development objectives alongside the original ones. Unesco scientists con­ tinued to press for the advancement of basic research and to attempt the international standardization and dissemina­ tion of scientific documentation. But the chief mode of sup­ port for basic scientific research—subventions to nongovern­ mental organizations such as ICSU—was modified to include various applications of science to development. For instance, Unesco leaders animated a broadly representative transnational association of professional engineers (the World Federation of Engineers) to serve as the applied science analogue of ICSU.34 Exploration of the earth and the rational use of its re­ sources, another earlier Unesco assignment for the 1960s, already had produced widely noted unilateral projects such as the International Geophysical Year's Sputnik. Some pro­ grams now were reshaped by newly engaging members, who demanded that an international institution approach­ ing universal membership should be made directly appli­ cable to its less-advantaged participants. Soviet and Third World participants' involvement in Unesco science and technology increased spectacularly. However, this growing intensity of participation did not characterize all Unesco's members. Hydrology, the subject for a year of work during the ma­ jor project on arid zones of the 1950s, now attained wider visibility and in so doing illuminated the fate of many an­ other multilateral enterprise. Farsighted observers recog34 "Focus on United Nations," C S M , 24 May 1966; "World Fed­ eration for Engineering," Engineering, 205 (22 March 1968), p. 428.

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nized that the world's available fresh-water resources were exhaustible, especially with rising population and increas­ ing industrial use. This was a problem recognized from the Third World. Nor were affluent nations' leaders oblivious to this challenge, as shown by President Eisenhower's un­ fulfilled wish for cheap desalinization in order to facilitate peaceful settlement of conflict in the Middle East, and President Johnson's slogan of "water for peace," contempo­ rary with Unesco efforts. Unesco General Conference votes in 1962 and 1964 urged planning for sustained use of water resources and endorsed an International Hydrological Dec­ ade (IHD). Objectives for IHD included technical advice on water resource management from the more to the less industrially organized states. During this period of multi­ lateral resolve, the U.S. government was engaging in South­ east Asia. From an early role as IHD pacesetter, the United States fell back rapidly during the middle 1960s, leaving the field to leadership from other nations. To some Americans IHD progress was regarded as insignificant; to many more the program was unknown. A member of the U.S. IHD national committee who was directly implicated called the American failure "worse than a disappointment. . . . It's a national embarrassment."35 Auger had keynoted a need for resource planning and management in his 1960 report: The systematic exploration . . . of the planet on which mankind lives should yield a thorough and accurate knowledge of the different environments forming the earth, the atmosphere, fresh and salt water and the soil. A necessary outcome of such knowledge, however, must be an activity of benefit to mankind—that of seeking to preserve these environments in the best possible condi35 "Worldwide

Hydrology Study on IGY Pattern Planned by Unesco," Science, 138 (30 November 1962), p. 962; Andrew Jamison, "IHD: International Symbol or 'National Embarrassment'?," Science, 161 (13 September 1968), pp. 118-19.

REGENERATION?

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tion, either by ensuring their prudent and rational use, or by repairing the damage they have already suffered, or by improving them so as to bring them closer to an optimum which can be determined by scientific means. He listed the preservation of threatened animal and plant species as an important task that deserved efforts through an international agency. Unesco and the International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Re­ sources (IUCN) convened in Arusha during 1961 a sympo­ sium on the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources in Modern African States. Symposium participants from 21 African and 5 non-African states had before them Sir Julian Huxley's report entitled "The Conservation of Wild Life and Natural Habitats in Central and East Africa." According to The Times, this symposium's object was to convince indigenous peoples that they must conserve wild­ life in areas they were beginning to control. The London newspaper noted certain "attitudes to be overcome—the primitive African's view of an animal as something to be killed and eaten, or at any rate killed." Since aesthetic and scientific arguments on behalf of conservation were "not too easy to put before minds such as these," The Times sug­ gested emphasis on national parks as tourist attractions and the possibilities of using non-cultivable land for controlled game farming. Game parks for Africa would later serve as a ready illustration of planning for environmental protection. Threats to the biosphere were as yet remote in the minds of participants defining Unesco priorities.36 Earth sciences advanced during the decade of the 1960s by way of natural catastrophes. Seismological survey mis­ sions initiated by the International Union of Geodesy and Geophysics (IUGG) and Unesco visited several areas to delineate seismic zones and lay a foundation for further 36 Current Trends in Scientific Research, pp. 224-25; "Wild Animals in Peril," Times editorial, 5 September 1961; "Scientists to Discuss Conservation," The Times, 2 August 1968.

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scientific investigation. The first two missions were led by Professor V. V. Beloussov, president of IUGG. A Tokyo seminar capped the Asian mission during July 1961; in the same month the Japanese government asked UN Special Fund assistance to establish an International Institute of Seismology and Earthquake Engineering, for which upon SF approval Unesco served as executing agent. The Iranian earthquake of September 1962 occasioned the first in a series of reconnaissance missions that assessed damage and urged preventive building measures in disaster areas. Iran's upheaval helped set in motion an appeal to Unesco national commissions for relief donations. Sometimes catastrophes led to the establishment of centers, observation stations, and meeting sites where area seismologists convened—those throughout the Balkans, in the case of Skopje, Yugoslavia. Engineering studies prepared for a 1964 intergovernmental meeting at Unesco House concluded that earthquake-resist­ ant buildings were possible, though more costly than exist­ ing structures. In November 1965 the Director-General probed official national willingness to create an international fund, from voluntary contributions, for developing seismol­ ogy and earthquake engineering. To the General Confer­ ence a year later he reported that this proposal had educed insufficient prospective support from governments to war­ rant the fund's establishment. Among the more spectacular of science projects inspired through Unesco were the oceanic explorations.37 To some 37 For discussion to follow we acknowledge the aid of Daniel Behrman, The New World of the Oceans (Boston: Little, Brown, 1969). See also Needham, "Science and International Relations," p. 13; Masao Yoshida, "The International Advisory Committee on Marine Sciences," UC, 2 (July 1956), pp. 219-21; Roger Revelle, "Interna­ tional Cooperation in Marine Sciences," Science, 126 (27 December 1957), pp. 1319-23; G.E.R. Deacon, "The Future of Marine Sciences," UC, 5 (January-February 1959), p. 5; Augusto Perez-Vitoria, "Unesco and the Marine Sciences," UC, 6 (May 1960), pp. 188-91; Roderick, "The Copenhagen Conference on Oceanographic Research," UC, 6 (October 1960), pp. 352-55; "Project for an International

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men the depths offered a chance to sift key evidence and perhaps explain how the earth was formed. To others ocean­ ography suggested enterprises they defended as being of much greater practical value. Until the middle of the twen­ tieth century, oceanic explorers had made only small prog­ ress in grasping their objectives. The diversity of scientific disciplines, as well as barriers to communications among oceanographers, militated against easy international coop­ eration. Nationally the costs of exploration were great and, because of the lack of seeming economic or security perti­ nence, they were judged exorbitant. When attempts were actually made, they were limited by the kinds of instruments available. But during the postwar period, mans ingenuity opened opportunities for commercial and military exploita­ tion. In 1949 a group of experts convened by ECOSOC at Unesco House recommended creation of an international institute for oceanography. Alexander Wolsky, representing the Unesco Science Co-operation Office for South-East Asia, talked with G. L. Kesteven and J.D.F. Hardenberg of the FAO-related Indo-Pacific Fisheries Council (IPFC) during 1951 in Jakarta about the possibility of an oceanographic institute for the region. Asian interests persisted during IPFC and FAO meetings of 1952; during the following year in Manila a Unesco-convened group of experts considered draft statutes for a regional institute. Though they were in favor of such an institute, it "was later seen to entail many difficulties," as indicated without elaboration by Unesco Department of Natural Sciences member Masao Yoshida. Indian Ocean Expedition," UC, 7 (April 1961), pp. 118-23; "Devel­ oping the Sea," The Economist, 199 (8 April 1961), p. 130; "Indian Ocean Site of Vast '62 Study," NYT, 2 July 1961; "Oceanography in Latin America," Nature, 193 (24 February 1962), pp. 731-32; "U.S. and Soviet Will Collaborate on Survey of South Atlantic," NYT, 1 October 1962; "Study of Pacific Current," MG, 5 April 1965; "Fourth Session of the Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commis­ sion," UC, 11 (December 1965), p. 473.

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The secretariat decided to defer a regional institute and instead to strengthen existing institutions. In the meantime "some interesting suggestions" from the Japanese National Commission "were taken into account," according to the Director-General's report for 1954. The Japanese govern­ ment initiated a successful move to establish marine sci­ ences on a firmer footing in Unesco at the General Con­ ference meeting the same year. A Unesco International Advisory Committee on Marine Sciences (IACOMS) was set up following meetings in Rome and Tokyo. Japanese in­ terest in oceanographic activities had shown itself early, though the strategy this interest would follow was still un­ clear. In June 1957 a Soviet ship's crew reported millions of tons of dead fish in a small area between Colombo and the Gulf of Aden, and British seamen also spotted the fish. It was perhaps a sign of the times that more attention was given the revealed source of food than the question of why the fish had died. Observers pondered the possibilities of deep-sea protein for peoples densely populating areas around the Indian Ocean. To material considerations others added scientific reasons for oceanic endeavors. From several ICSU component unions individual scientists were selected to form a Special Committee on Oceanic Research (SCOR). SCOR working groups addressed such opportunities as sys­ tematic exploration of the Indian Ocean. C. O'D. Iselin and Roger Revelle of the United States championed an Indian Ocean project, the latter addressing this possibility in an important article in Science late in 1957. Signs soon abounded that governments were beginning to engage in oceanographic endeavors, through universal structures or otherwise: the early jockeying for national recognition by those immediately undertaking their own national reconnaissance cruises in the Indian Ocean; a 1958 General Conference decision to convoke an intergovern­ mental oceanographic conference, held in Copenhagen during 1960; the Copenhagen decision to create an Intergov-

REGENERATION?

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ernmental Oceanographic Commission (IOC) in which inter­ ested governments might choose to participate financially and otherwise within the Unesco framework; tendencies to­ ward the ascendancy of IOC governments over SCOR sci­ entists in directing further oceanic explorations; increases for marine sciences in the Unesco regular budget from $75,000 to $500,000, and far vaster increases for oceanogra­ phy beyond Unesco auspices. President John F. Kennedy, for instance, asked Congress for $100,000,000 in the spring of 1961 to underwrite a U.S. unilateral program. After the suspension of hopes for an oceanographic in­ stitute to serve Asia, marine scientists conceived other or­ ganizational possibilities for realizing their intentions. A notable scheme was that of the late 1950s for research and training in an international vessel manned by polyglot crew­ men. As outlined by its aspirants, this project would have established a sort of multilateral frigate in search of com­ munity at the international level. "If we can arrange for scientists interested in special aspects of marine science to work together in a joint vessel, and to continue their co­ operation in growing friendliness as they carry their find­ ings back to their own countries," wrote G.E.R. Deacon of Britain, "it will be a great help in inventing new theories and practices, and correcting old ones, and in judging what comes before us." Pressure for a comparable project came from Asian delegates who caucused at the 1958 General Conference to plan a UN Special Fund request in order to outfit their own vessel. Floating multilateralism to train scientists from states otherwise unable to teach them ocea­ nography was championed also by Augusto Perez-Vitoria of the Unesco secretariat. Proponents invoked the European Centre for Nuclear Research (CERN) as an organizational model for emulation. But once again difficulties arose when governmental IOC representatives considered the proposal for one or more multilateral oceanographic vessels. The governments of cer­ tain large states instead announced that their own ships

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would participate in an International Indian Ocean Ex­ pedition (IIOE). This complement included 3 vessels from the U.S., 4 from the U.S.S.R., and 5 from Japan. Govern­ ments from states with ships invited scientists from states without ships to work in their vessels. Japanese officials pre­ pared a special training program for oceanographic interns from Southeast Asia. The government of India later an­ nounced that it would assign 5 ships to the expedition. Providing food for the hungry, predicting or controlling the weather, developing navigational aids and filling other communications wants, exploiting mineral resources both dis­ solved and deposited—these oceanographic tasks lay near the conventional jurisdiction of other intergovernmental or­ ganizations. Yet Unesco became pivotal for multilaterally organized oceanography. With prescience and an audacious assertion of Unesco's "essential role" and its status as a "focal point for the coordination of oceanographic research," Unescans prevailed. A senior FAO official was assigned to con­ tinuing duties as permanent international organization liaison officer at the Unesco-serviced Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission, which itself boasted 61 state members by the end of the decade. The FAO representative was likely to prove only the first of permanent delegates from "foreign" intergovernmental organizations. Unesco Assist­ ant Director-General Alexei Matveyev may have had in mind this line of development when he advanced a certain paradox: "The number of problems requiring what might be called mternational' solutions is sure to increase as inter­ national co-operation in oceanography develops further. This means that even if, one day, your commission succeeds in covering the whole ocean with a network of systematic observations, the commission will still not find itself job­ less!" Rene Maheu had referred to the planet's oceanic hemi­ sphere before the initial IOC session as "a gigantic ditch into which man discharges the waste from his organic ex­ changes and the detritus, as it were, of his civilization." In

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1965 an IOC working group headed by Pieter Korringa, director of the Netherlands Institute for Fisheries Investiga­ tions, examined oceanic evidence of the insolubility of oil, radioactive wastes, heavy metals, and chlorinated hydro­ carbons. Someone had detected insecticides in Antarctic penguins and poisonous residual substances including mer­ cury in tuna 200 miles at sea. "Man can no longer look upon the sea as a sewer," warned national delegates to IOC be­ fore they adjourned and returned to callings elsewhere. The press devoted only passing attention to these forebodings.38 For yet a while international concern languished over the state of contaminating waters and their interaction with the land and air that forms the single biosphere of life on earth. Through the 1960s, man's approaches toward growing threats to the natural ecosystems in which he participates were perhaps best described by a French biologist at Rock­ efeller University, Rene Dubos: There is a general awareness of the dangers posed by noise, environmental pollution, and the misuse of drugs, but effective measures are rarely taken before some catas­ trophe creates an atmosphere of panic. In fact, most en­ vironmental programmes emerge as empirical adaptive responses to acute crises and usually take the form of disconnected palliative measures designed to minimize social unrest or the depletion of a few natural resources.39 Julian Huxley had pointed Unesco in a direction that might have carried the organization into environmental matters. During the 1950s, Unesco scientists joined those from other intergovernmental institutions in studying the 38 "The First Session of the Intergovernmental Oceanographic Com­ mission," UC, 8 (January 1962), pp. 8-10; "Insecticides Poison Pen­ guins," MG, 12 November 1965; "Fourth Session of the Intergovern­ mental Oceanographic Commission," UC, 11 (December 1965), pp. 474-75. 39Dubos, "The Biosphere," Unesco Courier, 22 (January 1969), p. 13.

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effects of atomic radiation and the disposal of radioactive wastes, especially the latter's oceanic implications. One year's work during the Arid Zones major project had em­ phasized plant ecology. Auger s 1960 report contained many brief references to ecology and threats to the human en­ vironment. Unescans mounted studies of seismology and earthquake engineering ("protecting man against nature") and the conservation of natural resources ("protecting na­ ture against man"). The 1964 General Conference author­ ized Unesco's Director-General to promote studies in the ecological sciences and to undertake such measures as the exchange of ecological information. Until the middle 1960s, little more than oblique inquiries resulted from Unesco pro­ grams regarding a biosphere shaped by nature and reshaped most strikingly by man. Then Unescans began more actively to stake out institutional claims in a field made increasingly popular by man-made accidents.40 Earth's unitary life-space served in 1968 as theme for an Intergovernmental Conference of Experts on the Scientific Basis for Rational Use and Conservation of the Resources of the Biosphere. This Paris meeting was prepared by Unesco secretariat members and by an inter-agency committee including staff representatives of the UN, FAO, and WHO, along with spokesmen for the International Union for Con­ servation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN) and the International Biological Programme (IBP). Over a cen­ tury earlier the German biologist Ernst Haeckel had intro­ duced the word ecology in order to stress interrelations among the components of nature. This conference on the biosphere was said to be the first time that governmental representatives had met to appraise actual conditions. Conference planners, in words from the Director-Gen­ eral's report, "set out essentially to create sharper awareness 40 See, e.g., "Protecting Man Against Nature . . . Protecting Nature Against Man," UC, 11 (March 1965), pp. 90-97; F. E. Eckerdt, "The World Biological Balance and the Survival of Man," UC, 11 (Septem­ ber 1965), pp. 330-32.

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of a whole group of problems." Most papers proved to be more general in nature than the concerns of scattered pub­ lics who were worried about insecticides, herbicides, atomic radiation, oil on beaches, smog, visual and auditory pollu­ tion, and other matters. Attitudes of conference participants ranged from the melioristic to the apocalyptic. Few prob­ ably would have disagreed with Unesco secretariat member Michel Batisse's succinct definition of the problem: Hasty felling of forests to clear new land for crops; swift and reckless encroachment on the countryside to make place for tentacular cities, factories, highways and aero­ dromes; destruction and erosion of the soil; pollution of air and water; disappearance of wildlife; accumulation of waste products and mounds of rubbish; defacement of rural scenery; the increasing poisoning of our planet— all are the bitter fruit of man's technological skill, of the exponential rate of increase in population and the modern mystique of productivity." But the emphasis and the sense of urgency differed among those engaging so tentatively in this conference, and more specifically, participants differed upon what (if anything) they should choose, acting alone or collectively, to do. Planning and management ran through the conference proceedings like threads that might lead to a bright new age. Derek Tribe of Australia advocated establishment in every government of a cabinet-level land-use authority. In the judgment of Rene Dubos and others, management of the environment (amenagement du territoire) deserved fur­ ther development as a discipline. Dubos saw need for edu­ cational and social "inculcation of a land-ethic, a way of thinking in ecological terms. . . . The fault of most if not all promoters of ethical systems in the Western world has been that they believed that they had to deal only with the 41 Batisse,

"Can We Keep the Planet Habitable?," Unesco Courier, 22 (January 1969), p. 4.

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relations of man to man. By and large the rest of nature could go hang." Science enabled a "clear understanding of natural phenomena and the consequences of man's own ac­ tions," according to Michel Batisse; in the 1968 meeting many scientists agreed that "the situation is degenerating rapidly and far more dangerously than most people real­ ize."42 However, when later the Unesco Courier promised fur­ ther guidance under the title "Blueprint for Planetary Man­ agement," it offered merely a few hopeful examples capped by its conclusion that scientists "must eventually establish the necessity for the ecosystem approach to world problems as a safeguard against unbalanced technological action."43 Governments did agree to allow Unesco and other inter­ ested agencies to chart a long-term international and inter­ disciplinary plan on man and the biosphere for considera­ tion at the General Conference in 1970. Upon this occasion the UN General Assembly was asked to consider the advisa­ bility of a Universal Declaration on the Protection and Bet­ terment of a Human Environment. A Swedish initiative led to governments' resolution in New York to gather, at Stock­ holm as it proved, for considering relationships between man and his milieu. This United Nations Conference on the Human Environment was held in 1972. Unesco and the UN General Assembly had served as compressors for unorgan­ ized and loosely organized interests, most of their spokes­ men urging in effect that environmental protection be con­ stituted a public or collective good. To what extent this compression of interests would stimulate effective action for maintaining a biosphere able to sustain life through future generations remained to be seen. 42 Nigel Calder, "Ecological Missionaries," New Statesman, 76 (6 September 1968), p. 284; "The Biosphere," p. 13; John Hillaby, "The Battered Biosphere," New Scientist, 39 (5 September 1968), pp. 474-76; Hillaby, "Danger: Man at Work," New Scientist, 39 (19 September 1968), pp. 604-05. 43 Unesco Courier, 22 (January 1969), pp. 38-40.

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Cultural Activities could not by 1970 claim financial bal­ ance within Unesco. This want indicated no lack of will. The form of some cultural programs suggested that lessons had been learned from the experience of neighboring de­ partments in Unesco. Institutional participants drew up a list of principles for international cultural cooperation, thereby expressing their faith that converging aspirations might yield common standards of attainment for nations to approach as best they could. World-wide attention fol­ lowed the "enterprising idea" (in the Manchester Guardians phrase) that developed into the Festival of Negro Arts in Dakar.44 By the end of the decade, Unesco cultural activ­ ists could point to widespread field operations for protect­ ing the world's cultural legacy—a legacy whose particular manifestations aided the search for national identity and the quest for tourists and foreign exchange. Without doubt the most significant series of cultural events under Unesco direction was the international campaign to save the monu­ ments of Nubia.45 The Nubian campaign began unobtrusively in 1954 with a request from the Egyptian government for Unesco assist­ ance in setting up a documentation center concerned with the art of ancient Egypt. Mme. Christiane Desroches-Noblecourt, the dynamic and farseeing curator of Egyptian an­ tiquities at the Louvre, answered this call. In 1955 she urged action to save temples and certain other monuments from the Aswan waters in part of Egypt and the Sudan. Her plea did not receive positive response in Unesco House, despite a 1956 resolution by the International Committee on Monu44 "Festival of Negro Art," MG, 31 July 1965; Lloyd Garrison, "Real Bursts Through the Unreal at Dakar Festival," NYT, 26 April 1966. 45 Besides annual reports of the Director-General, UC, and inter­ views, this account draws on Jacquetta Hawkes, "Beating the Flood . . . ," Observer, 19 February 1961; Sir Mortimer Wheeler, "The Battle to Save Abu Simbel," The Times, 7 July 1961; "Les monu­ ments de Nubie sont sauves," Le Monde, 25 November 1964; "Nubia Heritage Saved from the Waters," The Times, 15 February 1967.

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ments that asked the Director-General to use all possible means to protect archaeological sites and especially the great temple of Abu Simbel. Luther Evans remained doubt­ ful about the practical aspects of preservation, if not about the difficulty of financing such an enterprise. He had been there himself and had seen the problem with his own eyes. Nonetheless, he countenanced the center's work in studying ancient Egypt and in serving, with the Egyptian govern­ ment and Unesco, as broker for teams of diggers and other researchers from abroad, for photogrammetric surveys of Abu Simbel and of other regions evaluated by the Institut Geographique National in Paris, and for efforts to record details of monuments and sites. Findings then were dis­ seminated to interested specialists. During 1957 and 1958 this work proceeded under the terms of the Unesco partici­ pation program. On 6 April 1959 the Egyptian government addressed another appeal to the new Director-General. The Sudanese government asked similar help. Vittorino Veronese was favorably disposed toward the projects. Moreover, the international situation now differed somewhat. By 1959 the threat to Nubian objects was far more widely and intensely appreciated than before. In Maheu, Veronese had an intimate counsellor who also sensed the possibilities of action. And Veronese knew about complementary interests of the International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Prop­ erty, established two years earlier by agreement with Unes­ co in Rome. He secured the Executive Board's approval to prepare a plan of international action for the same group's endorsement. Secretariat members, committees of experts, committees of eminent personages, committees of patrons, national committees, and an itinerant special adviser to the Director-General (Prince Sadruddin Aga Khan) all acted to help. The Director-General in early 1960 made a formal appeal for collective action, and at the same time the French Minister of State for Cultural Affairs, Andre Malraux, called Nubia an "indivisible heritage." Others later

REGENERATION?

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joined in. Gamal Abdel Nasser held "the legacy of mankind . . . no less important than the construction of dams, the erection of factories, and the greater prosperity of the peo­ ple." Jacquetta Hawkes, co-author of the first volume of the Scientific and Cultural History of Mankind, weighed pro against con in a thoughtful Observer article before conclud­ ing that "a treachery to the future" would occur if these unique monuments were not saved. "Could any request be more exactly addressed to the ideals of UNESCO as we dreamed of them in the high, hopeful, early days?" Technical difficulties now seemed more challenging than forbidding, but important questions remained. Should the temples be protected by dams, dragged to higher ground, raised upon foundations built at their historic sites, or cut into pieces and reassembled in new places? Redoubtable as were the questions debated by engineers of varying nationalities who proposed several practical an­ swers, the problem of how to finance any such operation appeared more imposing yet. Some early estimates reached $82 million for saving the temples of Abu Simbel and Philae. From the outset, the major governmental underwriters of Unesco made clear their requirement of underwriting any effort by voluntary means rather than through the regular budget. This understanding was not modified by Maheu's proposal to procure a bank loan, which was rejected by governments' representatives. Egyptian authorities promised substantial financial participation and gifts in kind of not less than half the objects found on explored sites. They of­ fered special monuments to the most generous donors. Such Unesco schemes as the sale of special postal stamps on Nu­ bia and the merchandising of canceled specimens as col­ lectors' items would net further funds. But most support necessarily would come from the governments making de­ cisions about whether and how much to contribute. In 1963, with an eye on the pledged amounts and on dead­ lines enforced by threatening waters, the Director-General and Executive Board put a ceiling of $40 million upon the

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international commitment. At an earlier point in delibera­ tions an Italconsult plan to lift and relocate Abu Simbel had been favored over a more costly plan submitted by Messrs. Coyne and Bellier of Paris to safeguard the temples with an earthen dam. Now the still less expensive method of slicing the temples and reconstructing them on higher ground was decided upon because of Unesco's inability to reconcile the differences between the wishes of purists and the worldliness of governments. Feasibility studies were first worked out by Swedish consultants and the task itself was performed by a consortium of French, Italian, Swedish, and U.A.R. firms under the guidance of Hochtief of the Federal Republic of Germany. By 1963, 150 tourists a day were viewing Abu Simbel, as against about 50 a year in the past. "In the fifth volume of his Description of Greece," wrote Giorgio Rosi for a Unesco periodical in May 1959, "Pausanias tells us that in the rear colonnade of the temple of Juno at Olympia, one of the columns was made of oak." Rosi pro­ ceeded to use this second-century reference as justification for cultural regeneration.46 The Egyptian success with Nu­ bia heartened others to try preserving or restoring their own peculiar assets. Late in the 1960s, for instance, the Greek gov­ ernment sought and got a visit by Unesco experts who might advise on protection against threats to the Parthenon. Flor­ ence and Venice recovered from their floods of 1966 with financial and other assistance raised by an international campaign launched by Rene Maheu. Four years earlier Veronese had reminded a Venice meeting concerned with the city's conservation and its future Hfe that Unesco's in­ tervention in Nubia was possible only in response to a spe­ cific request. After emergency inventories of artifacts rem­ iniscent of the early campaign for Nubia, Unescans assisted Italian and Venetian authorities in setting up an interna­ tional advisory committee, and embarked on action that "might be called pre-operational'," according to the Direc46"Safeguarding Our Artistic Heritage," UC 5 (May 1959), pp. 1 159-63.

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tor-General's report for 1968. "In its desire to clarify and identify the phenomena and developments which threaten the physical existence, economic life and cultural heritage of Venice," this report continued, the Secretariat also carried out a more general operation in the form of a large-scale documentary survey [that] . . . reviews all aspects of the present and future situa­ tion of the lagoon city: problems of physical defence; problems of socio-economic development; problems re­ lating to the preservation of the monumental and artistic heritage, town planning and the development of Venice as a cultural centre. This study is not only a reference document for the future work of the Advisory Committee for Venice but may also serve a promotional purpose in stimulating international co-operation. In the meantime, Venetians argued the relative merits of reinstating the Venice of old, reclaiming a city safeguarded from submersion as an international center for higher edu­ cation, or encouraging further industrial and commercial development. Indeed, the proper course of action was still being weighed in 1974.47 An International Campaign for Monuments was mounted by Maheu from June to November 1964; over 60 member governments announced their participation. In the United States, for example, Mrs. Lyndon B. Johnson officiated at an American Landmarks Celebration, and President Johnson proclaimed a National Landmarks Week. The subsequent General Conference authorized Unesco's Director-General to undertake a study "with the object of ascertaining how far a country's heritage of monuments contributed to the development of tourism and consequently constituted 47 Paul Hofmann, "Pontiff, in Venice, Warns of Decay," NYT, 17 September 1972; " 'Save Venice' Bill Hits New Snags," NYT, 2 October 1972; Norris Willatt, "Rehousing Planned in Venice Restora­ tion," CSM, 26 July 1973; Hofmann, "A Crumbling Venice Still Waits for Help," NYT, 4 June 1974.

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

a factor in the country's economic development." Members were surveyed on possible ways to reactivate their cultural property. The secretariat dispatched missions to help plan for cultural revivification. Unesco soon was receiving a sur­ feit of governmental requests for more tangible assistance. The 1966 General Conference resolved that Unesco should cooperate in cultural restoration for development with the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and with other agencies financing economic development. In Mexico a conference of western hemisphere Unesco national commissions voted by a Taltelolco resolution to spur their Unesco national delegations to restore cultural property for the integral development of peoples and for the promotion of cultural tourism. This resolution, adapting a pattern pio­ neered in other Unesco fields, was soon emulated on other continents. Before the end of the decade, both UNDP and the International Bank Group (IBRD, IDA, and IFC) had shown sufficient interest to join Unesco in dispatching teams of experts to investigate prospects of cultural tourism for development. Delegates at Unesco's 1972 General Confer­ ence agreed to establish a world heritage fund for conserv­ ing items of human artifice and natural life with "universal value."48 A communications-minded delegate remarked to his re­ ceptive professional colleagues at the 1966 General Con­ ference that he hoped that someday mass communications would occupy a position in Unesco equal to those accorded education, science, and culture. For the most part, Unesco communicators poised their ambitions before the 1960s upon a cold-war fulcrum—freedom of information. Everybody has a right "to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers," pro48 "La mise en valeur des monuments . . . ," Le Monde, 14 June 1966; M. A. Farber, "UNESCO to Set Up New Heritage Aid," NYT, 3 December 1972; Qutubuddin Aziz, "Nations Seek to Save Ancient Pakistani Site," CSM, 17 March 1973.

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claimed those 1948 UN General Assembly delegates who adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. An ostensible division of labor with the UN allowed Unesco spokesmen to assume responsibility for "practical and tech­ nical solutions" while claiming to leave political problems to New York.49 Unescans later evolved freedom of information into a right to infonnation, then into a proposition that this right was being denied to millions who lacked mass media. Thus the architects of communications' parity with other major Unesco sectors modified their arguments to suit the de­ mands of newly-engaging governments. Delegates to the 1958 UN General Assembly invited Unesco to formulate concrete proposals for assisting governments of low-income nations in setting up media for the flow of information. Tor Gjesdal of Norway, Director of the Unesco Department of Mass Communications and a former UN Secretariat mem­ ber, regarded this decision as of historic importance because it "authorized the use of United Nations technical assistance funds for the development of mass media of communication as such, and not merely as auxiliaries for other worthy aims." The method, Gjesdal noted, "was not unfamiliar to Unesco, which for years had deployed some of its own modest re­ sources under the regular and participation programmes for these ends." But the New York decision presaged a broader scope for communications. "Fortunately, develop­ ments of this nature had been foreseen at the [1958] session of [our own] General Conference. . . . Unesco was thus able to accept the challenge at once." The UN Commission on Human Rights and ECOSOC soon formulated this invitation in greater detail. Meanwhile Unesco planners promoted communications for information. Julian Behrstock, referring to data in an expert study by George A. Codding, Jr., sought implementation of the right to receive information. Behrstock asked Unesco member 49 Tor Gjesdal, "The Right to Information," UC, 6 (November 1960), pp. 420-27, on which this and the following paragraph draw.

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F O R M A T I O N AND EVOLUTION

governments to lower duties on imported radio receivers and to authorize the International Telecommunication Union (ITU) and Unesco to develop low-cost receivers "in co-operation with the technical and industrial organizations concerned." Delegates to the 1959 Administrative Radio Conference agreed to allow ITU's International Consulta­ tive Radio Committee to draw up receiver specifications suitable for large-scale, low-cost use in areas where wire­ less consumption was especially sparse.50 Unesco communicators set out to survey needs along the circuit of regional conferences for Asia, Latin America, and Africa. A Rangkok meeting in early 1960 served as model, bringing together governmental representatives partici­ pating in the UN Economic Commission for Asia and the Far East (ECAFE), experts on the mass media, and spokes­ men for interested intergovernmental organizations for the purpose of planning a communications development pro­ gram. In New Delhi, "Unesco's action for development of the information media continued to receive vigorous sup­ port from the information professions." A recommendation by the United Nations seminar on freedom of information sanctioned "everything possible . . . to stimulate and en­ courage Unesco's projects" for Asia. The Paris meeting of African experts under chairmanship of Senegalese Minister of Information Obeye Diop voted that every country should get at least 10 copies of daily newspapers, 5 radio receivers and 2 cinema seats for each 100 people. Chief communi­ cator Gjesdal, a man destined for Unesco promotion to As­ sistant Director-General in 1966, transposed these findings from surveys by the needy into desired standards for inter­ national aspiration in a 1962 presentation before the UN Commission on Human Rights. Unesco's three-year search demonstrated the foundation for a claim of $3,400,000,000 50 Behrstock, "Broadcasting and the Free Flow of Ideas," UC, 5 (May 1959), pp. 164-67. Codding's study is Broadcasting Without Barriers (Paris: Unesco, 1959).

REGENERATION?

259

to reach minimal media standards in Asia, Latin America, and Africa over the succeeding 10 to 15 years.51 Local book publishing provided another instance of the blending of new desires with established interests. Promo­ tional conferences on several continents brought together publishers, booksellers, educators, librarians, and interested observers from countries outside each region. These fol­ lowed use of the Unesco participation program to help member governments reformulate their copyright legislation so it would fit the Universal Copyright Convention. Julian Behrstock observed that "professional organizations in the field" immediately welcomed the book program as "a rally­ ing point for their own efforts to promote the use of books and to develop the reading habit." He assured privately interested individuals that Unesco had no plans to enter commercial publishing.52 Communications had been incorporated into the interna­ tional consensus on development far less than had educa­ tion and science. Unesco communicators with what a top official smilingly called "very sober reasons" tried their hands at the art of postulating a theory of development by communications. This line of justification was opened by the Director-General's 1961 report to the Commission on Human Rights and ECOSOC. The report reaffirmed that adequate media must be considered a prerequisite to free­ dom of information and noted that nearly 70 percent of the world's population lacked basic facilities. Then Maheu of­ fered his new contention: the development of information media contributes to economic development; hence this contributing factor should be aided by resources outside the Unesco regular budget. By a unanimous vote, ECOSOC 51 "Wider News Flow in Africa Mapped," NY T, 7 February 1962; "More News Media Urged by UNESCO," NYT, 10 April 1962. 52 "UNESCO Fosters Publishing," NYT, 9 June 1965; Behrstock, "Unesco's Programme for Book Promotion," UC, 16 (October 1970), pp. 402-06.

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on 28 April recommended what Tor Gjesdal construed as "full-scale international assistance and national investment for broad development purposes in a sector which up to now has been dealt with only in the context of human rights."53 Elaboration of the ECOSOC-endorsed thesis came from the Unesco secretariat. "As a result of our studies," Gjesdal concluded, we have arrived at the firm conviction that there is a clear reciprocal relationship between development of the in­ formation media and economic and technical develop­ ment. On the one hand, a society must reach a certain level of wealth and technological advancement before it can establish and maintain the services of the mass media. On the other hand, the media can markedly stimulate the capacity to create further wealth and can spur tech­ nical progress by enlisting the human factors, such as im­ proved skills and better education among adults. The mass media can also serve effectively in winning public understanding and participation in those efforts. . . . [S]ince information has in the past been considered not as a productive factor, but mainly as consumption, the development of the media of mass communication has not been given the place it deserves in modern economic planning. Yet an accelerated development of the media may justifiably be considered as an essential element in a pre-investment period, along with the still more urgently needed expansion of education, and parallel with the de­ velopment of such services as communications and trans­ port. . . . Statistics contained in the report substantiate this point. [Emphasis added.] Experts' confirmation followed. Wilbur Schramm, Direc­ tor of the Institute for Communication Research at Stan­ ford University, covered the continental meetings. "If mass 53 Gjesdal, "Development of the Mass Media for Economic and Social Progress: The United Nations Endorses Unesco Report," UC, 7 (June 1961), pp. 216-21.

REGENERATION?

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communication could save only a small fraction of the cost of educational development in many new countries," his report found, "it might save more than the total cost of its own development." Another publication under Unesco auspices, Bordeaux Professor Robert Escarpit's "The Book Revolution," was acclaimed for opening new vistas for book industries. The Escarpit study was translated into ten lan­ guages amid growing indications that the idea of books for development was captivating certain officers of the Inter­ national Bank.54 As the decade expired, communicators turned their at­ tention more often to the opportunities and threats of in­ ternational transactions by space satellites. New technology revived long-dormant hopes for broadcasting through Unesco auspices. Communication by artificial satellite was con­ templated as an adjunct to projects in other Unesco sectors such as the teaching of science, cultural programming, and the distribution of news information. Rene Maheu referred to educational opportunities "in countries of vast extent where the infrastructures of terrestrial communications are relatively undeveloped" when on 7 July 1970 he spoke to ECOSOC. A pilot project in education was slated for India. Some commentators upon satellite communications pointed out possible dangers to national integrity and the need to anticipate them with timely international action.55 54 "Mass Media and National Development," UC, 11 (Febraary 1965), p. 57; "Unesco's Programme for Book Promotion," p. 403. See also Schramm, Mass Media and National Development: The Role of Information in the Developing Countries (Stanford: Stanford Uni­ versity Press, 1964). 55 Maheu, "The Regeneration of Education as a Vital Factor in Development," UC, 16 (October 1970), p. 394. Lord Ritchie Calder warned a Canadian audience that broadcasting satellites pose "one of the most serious problems of our age" by making it "virtually im­ possible" for nations to enjoy cultural self-determination. Quoted in NYT, 25 May 1969, p. E-8. Curbs on satellite broadcasting were voted at Unesco's 1972 General Conference. The 47-9 tally of dele­ gates found France in the majority and the U.S., U.K., Canada, Swit-

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

History of Mankind volumes appeared serially during the 1960s. This history, Maheu wrote in a foreword, was based upon "the very postulate on which Unesco itself is based, namely, the conviction that international relations, in their ultimate reality, are not merely determined by political and economic factors and considerations but spring as well, and perhaps even more surely, from the capabilities and de­ mands of the mind." An Irish newspaper praised the product for its absence of theorizing. Spokesmen for members most belatedly engaging in Unesco, who felt by-passed in the original plan, set out to compose a general history of Af­ rica.56 Social scientists' share of the regular Unesco budget re­ mained fairly stable throughout the 1960s. Outside funding to other sectors reduced the effective percentage consider­ ably. Somehow Unescans had to "make the case to Hoff­ man." How? On tactics most agreed. Mindful of the Auger report on trends in science and technology, secretariat policy-makers organized an ambitious survey of trends in the social sci­ ences. "Its object," wrote International Social Science Jour­ nal editor Peter Lengyel in 1966, "is to outline the direction of scholarship in all liranches of endeavour, and to distin­ guish methodologies and conceptualizations not by refer­ ence to the conventional disciplinary divisions but rather by fundamental intellectual procedure and attitude." Dur­ ing an initial phase, scholars would survey what were called "law-seeking" social sciences. Little attention was devoted, however, to specifying either the kinds of laws sought or the mind sets of their seekers. The law-seeking survey would zerland, New Zealand, Costa Rica, Israel, Australia, and Japan con­ stituting the minority. Charlotte Saikowski, "Censor Button on World TV?," CSM, 16 October 1972; Flora Lewis, "U.S. Loses in Vote at UNESCO Parley," NYT, 30 October 1972. 56 Maheu, "A Panorama of the History of the Human Mind . . . ," UC, 8 (November 1962), pp. 373-78.

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accompany social scientists' attempt to produce resolutions by continental gatherings testifying to the efficacy of social science. Social science officers were assigned from Unesco headquarters to science co-operation offices and to UN re­ gional commissions' headquarters. Supportive politicking on behalf of such nongovernmental organizations as the International Political Science Association and the Ameri­ can Political Science Association was thought by at least one interested scholar to offer a way of raising the status of Unesco social science. Unescans tried with modest suc­ cess to establish social science offices to serve individual nations and groups of nations. The Latin American Social Science Faculty (FLACSO) of Santiago, the African Centre for Administrative Training and Research for Development (CAFRAD) of Tangiers, the European Co-ordination Cen­ tre for Research and Documentation in the Social Sciences of Vienna, and the Latin American Social Science Research Centre (CENTRO) of Rio de Janeiro, among others, were in operation before 1970.57 Differences among social scientists arose less on tactics than on the identity of the social sciences and on their Unesco mission. How to do it was more commonly asked than why to do it or even what it was that participants really wanted to do. Some related social science to the in­ stitution's cultural mandate and identified such activities (along with the humanities) as the human sciences, in Rene Maheus favored phrase. When Maheu regrouped these pro­ fessionals administratively, he expressly declined to class social with natural sciences. Instead he spoke of trying to "bring together those disciplines which, whether they be­ longed to scientific positivity or to philosophical criticism, have as their object the study of man, as a whole and in his individual aspects, and then to place this group of activities 57

Lengyel, "Two Decades of Social Science at Unesco," Interna­ tional Social Science Journal, 18 (4, 1966), pp. 554-68; Julian Hochfeld, "Patterns of Unesco's Social Science Programme," idem, pp. 569-88.

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

at the end of the substantive programme, so that it might form a final centre of convergence for the entire pro­ gramme."58 Over this conglomerate of programs as Assistant Director-General Maheu placed his chef de cabinet, Mahdi Elmandjra. Others differed from Maheu by maintaining that the social sciences belonged nearer science and technology. Both substance and methodology dictated such a close alli­ ance, said one leading secretariat member. He added that financial considerations also counseled it. The DirectorGeneral's reluctance to give this department its due stemmed from his misconception of the social sciences as merely a plot by barbarian Anglo-Saxons, in the estimation of another staff official. Clearly there remained fundamen­ tally different conceptions of the purpose of Unesco social science. Unesco social scientists were invited to help their sec­ retariat colleagues further other specialties. Statistical re­ sources provided vital tools for all departments and sug­ gested to certain social scientists a tempting raison d'etre for their own work. Mathematics, remarked one high-rank­ ing Unesco social scientist, is a language that is capable of speaking across barriers of culture, politics, and so on. Moreover, this language spoke appealingly to certain stellar governments, as exemplified, in his eyes, by the personal preferences of United States National Commission mem­ bers. To analyze and expound how development occurs struck others as a particularly pertinent task for the social sciences. Social scientists had helped draw up theories sug­ gesting how development takes place by way of Unesco 68 Maheu, "Unesco's Preliminary Draft Programme and Budget for 1965-66," UC, 9 (October 1963), p. 323; "A Survey on Research Trends in the Social and Human Sciences," UC, 11 (January 1965), pp. 38-41; Maheu, from his preface to Part ι of International Study on the Main Trends of Research in the Social and Human Sciences, UC, 15 (December 1969), pp. 424, 426.

REGENERATION?

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programs in education, science, culture and communica­ tions.69 Ironically, these explanations of development through other Unesco program sectors unfolded more plau­ sibly than did justifications of development through invest­ ment in Unesco social sciences as such. Thus arguments for Unesco budgetary expansion in the social sciences were weakened indirectly by social scientists' support for other sectors' contentions, and more fundamentally by their fail­ ure to define an identity and purpose for themselves. Spokesmen for Unesco social sciences occasionally broached the question of evaluating Unesco's programs and pursued it until they met resistance from one quarter or another. By and large, social scientists preferred to act pragmatically in the sense of Henry Kissingers dictum: "Pragmatism . . . is more concerned with method than with judgment; or rather it seeks to reduce judgment to method­ ology and value to knowledge." Unescans concerned them­ selves with approaches rather than with destinations. Maheu told an interviewer from Le Monde that international co­ operation was more delicate in the human sciences than elsewhere because of unreconciled values.60 The dominant impression one observer retains of the first quarter-century is that of men and women starting eagerly upward toward many a challenging peak, only to hesitate at the first sign of adversity and, having disbanded, to meander off along easier pathways. In the social sciences, at least, Unesco par­ ticipants had thus far engaged only to the extent of exchang­ ing observations upon each other's maps of familiar terrain. During Huxley's dominion the occasional project that achieved a synthesis of specific professional interests was 59

Lengyel, p. 564; Hochfeld, p. 576. "Domestic Structure and Foreign Policy," e.g. in his American Foreign Policy (New York: W. W. Norton, 1969), p. 30; "Une Interview . . . ," loc.cit. A more buoyant report is that of former director Gene M. Lyons, "Globalizing the Social Sciences," PS, 6 (Winter 1973), pp. 6-12. 60 Kissinger,

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

acknowledged, rightly, to reflect individual genius. By Maheu's time, program convergences occurred much more frequently though no less remarkably. The fifth DirectorGeneral, like the first, eternally reached, eternally ques­ tioned, eternally sought to comprehend intellectually and— in unprecedented fashion—to interrelate practically various elements from the growing list of Unesco tasks. That cir­ cumstance now more often favored the interweaving of the strands of programs detracts little from Maheu's accomplish­ ment. The appeal of development doctrines did some of his work, but he remained master expositor and institutional practitioner of autonomous Unesco action. Unesco's empha­ sis upon development, for instance, he joined to a justifica­ tion of "the composite, interdisciplinary reflection on con­ temporary man seen in his real state and from the angle of his values, in his actual being and in his becoming." Vero­ nese launched the Nubian undertaking; Maheu officiated over the rescue of montiments that constituted both a cul­ tural resurrection and, in Sir Mortimer Wheeler's words, an "unparalleled and indeed almost frightening feat of engi­ neering."61 The inexorable march of technology presented new means for fulfilling the educational, scientific, and cul­ tural purposes written into Unesco's Constitution; but Maheu led Unesco to utilize available means more effec­ tively than it had previously done. Others sounded the alarm on threats to the biosphere; Maheu directed Unesco House to focus upon environmental needs germane to several of Unesco's program fronts. People wondered whether Maheu was the great harvester or the great sower. Paulo Berredo Carneiro, speaking to Executive Board colleagues on 10 May 1967, thought that historians would award him both titles. When Maheu was first elected, British and Soviet representatives reportedly pressed him to limit his term to four years on grounds of the prior understanding by which Unesco was located in 61 Maheu, "Unesco's . . . for 1965-66," p. 324; "The Battle to Save Abu Simbel," loc.cit.

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Paris, but later they released him from any such pledge. Many others expressed their admiration in less grudging fashion. Though not the most creative Director-General, said a man closely associated with Huxley, Maheu had shown himself the most effective of the lot. He combined knowledge of Unesco "inside out" with an acute "political sense," reckoned another secretariat colleague. Some com­ pared him to Albert Thomas, the Frenchman who served as establishing Director-General of ILO after the first World War. In the springtime of 1967 the Neue Zurcher Zeitung found it "both interesting and a reason for gratification that Unesco, which is such an essential part of the United Na­ tions system, has been led for such a long time by a man who combines a capacity for philosophical thought and practical action—action which is reflected in countless con­ structive activities, big and small, known and unknown, both at headquarters and in the field."62 During a dinner party following the Executive Board session of the same season, Maheu announced his candidacy for re-election. About Maheu no one seemed neutral. Few adversely dis­ posed were inclined to remain silent about his faults or foibles. Some gossiped disparagingly though with obvious relish about the private life of one whom they defined as different from themselves. The Times, in a favorable 1962 comment, noted that Maheu was "serious and tense and certainly suffers fools not at all."63 In London a former member of the secretariat spoke of his "intemperance" and "megalomania." A closer observer described his ways as ruthless, even though this same assessment concluded upon the Director-General's more estimable qualities. One inno­ cent visitor to UNDP headquarters was told that Unesco was headed by a de Gaulle-like man bent upon building his own empire rather than playing along with the United Nations Development Programme or with corresponding 82

Neue Zilrcher Zeitung, 4 March 1967. Educator to the Rising Countries," The Times, 17 Novem­ ber 1962. 63 "Chief

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FORMATION AND EVOLUTION

specialized agencies. At headquarters, where Maheu was subsequently to experience a spirited staff rebellion touched off by the interplay of personal frustrations with policy dis­ agreements and amplified by the press, secretariat members often volunteered criticism of the man whom they held re­ sponsible for working conditions they loathed. One de­ scribed Unesco House as a monastery with telephones where individuals sought to talk solely with their superiors and where Maheu, outside of the secretariat hearings, listened only to a small handful of associates beyond his cabinet. Even staff meetings seemed to offer little sense of com­ munity: "Everyone is afraid of Maheu, even the 'Red Guards' [Maheu's cabinet]. . . ." "Why is everyone afraid of him?" "Because he is so apt to criticize them during the public hearings." Maheu easily got the Board's renomination in 1968. He received Conference reaffirmation from 115 governments and abstentions from the 2 others casting ballots. During the revolt of 1970, furthermore, he attained a symbolic vote of confidence from governments represented on the Board. Would-be reformers had distributed to Board members a Staff Association questionnaire that included items asking how respondents felt about restructuring Uneseo by abol­ ishing the Directorship-General in favor of a panel and by cutting out governments. That their Director-General ran a taut institution patently did not displease most sharehold­ ing governments. Unesco's domain had grown to a good size by the early 1970s, as figures 5.1 and 5.2 indicate. The process of insti­ tutionalization and the grasp of Rene Maheu notwithstand­ ing, it would oversimplify matters considerably to conclude that the executive manager makes this organizations de­ cisions. The prevalent pattern of making policy within

269

REGENERATION?

Unesco might best be described as permissive choosing. "Policy" is determined by those actively engaged rather than by the play of overt conflict among participants. Each step is taken by a few intensely involved participants rather than by most participants collectively deciding all-encom­ passing outcomes.64 The participant enjoys an excellent

YEAR

FIGURE 5.1. Unesco Member States, 1946-1972. e4Elsewhere we have called this policy process promotion to dis­ tinguish it from others, notably setting and applying universal stand­ ards, found in a wide range of intergovernmental organizations. See "Policy Processes and International Organisation Tasks," in Robert W. Cox, ed., The Politics of International Organization (New York: Praeger, 1970), pp. 98-112.

270

FORMATION AND EVOL'OTION

chance of choosing what among other programs will be undertaken-provided that this participant is willing to devote resources and skills in the strategic structure that is Unesco. To this extent Unesco encompasses many influential participants. Those officially representing nationstates act with self-assurance if hardly with equal effect 300 280 260 240 220 200 180 1/1

0

160

(!)

z

140 120 100 80 60

'46 '48 '50 '52 '54 '56 '58 '60 '62 '64 '66 '68 '70 '72

YEAR FIGURE 5.2. Nongovernmental Organizations (NGOs) Affiliated with Unesco, 1946-1972.

REGENERATION?

271

as Unesco's primary members. We have observed the massive engagement of nongovernmental organizations; they too are permitted to participate in choosing what is undertaken. Secretariat members cross these basic catego­ ries as nationals of member states and as individuals inter­ ested in the substance of NGOs' claims. Yet they operate from a tactically advantageous basis in influencing policy choices, as we have seen. Finally, other intergovernmental organizations affect what will be attempted. The reader needs no reminder that deciding to undertake programs does not insure their fulfillment. Unesco presents many instances of task expansion but leaves big questions about how these translate into task implementation. We can take a small step toward clarification by recalling that policy embraces not only matters of program definition but also those of finance and personnel. This qualifies the notion of Unesco policy-making as permissive choosing. Even the agents of major state members find it difficult to prevent a program endeavor which the Unesco DirectorGeneral and most other governments have determined to undertake. Nor can specific nominees for high secretariat posts readily be blocked—at least in Unesco—unless they happen to be a government's own nationals. Governmental participants can wield no item veto through financial with­ holding. But governments, especially those of large highincome states participating in institutions whose effective­ ness depends upon adequate financial support, can stymie the effective implementation of a broad range of formally decided policy. In this respect the United States remains most powerful and most responsible, the Soviet Union next most, and so on. Moreover, the governments of affluent states often seem quite willing in this manner to blunt the effect of collective decisions. We have seen how budget ceilings may be adopted near the beginning of General Conference sessions. Financially significant members of the Executive Board sometimes try to forestall costly commitments or to weaken enabling measures. Principal governments acting singly

272

FOHMATION AND EVOLUTION

and in concert with each other now strive to impose maxi­ mum amounts for the executive budget early in the biennial cycle. Our interviews yield evidence that certain govern­ ments attempt collateral inducements and threats in bar­ gaining directly with the Director-General on the size of his budget, although these governments evidently do so neither entirely successfully nor without attendant liabilities. Al­ though the governments of major states cannot easily pre­ vent policy decisions, then, they can and do limit effectua­ tion. For anyone peering ahead, choices unmade and circum­ stances unforeseeable would continue to obscure the view, rendering the future at once treacherous and interesting. Rene Maheu surely overstated the grasp of man when on 26 October 1966 he informed Board members that Unesco's development was no longer a matter of chance, Observers might, however, recognize a modicum of truth in his state­ ment. "The key ponderable of our time," Maheu had written in 1965, was the "throbbing, accelerated rejuvenescence of the world itself." This first re-elected Director-General referred in his 1968 acceptance speech to the institutions "second birth, a profounder identification with the human condi­ tion and historical reality." Maheu joined personal mean­ ing to the theme of institutional revival as he drew the "double implication of praise and warning" from an early critique of Les Miserables. In 1862, Lamartine had said of Victor Hugo—then 60, or approximately Maheu's cur­ rent age—that the French romanticist was "full of hope and noble illusions" stemming from a "strong man's mirage of second youth."65 Was Unesco's regeneration an authentic prospect, or a mirage? 85 Maheu, "Youth With a Purpose," Unesco Courier, 18 (July 1965), pp. 4-7; Maheu, communication to Administrative Committee on Coordination (ACC), 6 July 1970. For Maheus second inaugural address, see UC, 14 (December 1968), pp. 479-81.

REGENERATION?

273

Quite possibly the answer rested with governments and their younger constituents more than with Maheu. There appeared signs of institutional renewal both within and out­ side of Unesco, but hopeful signs were mixed with less promising ones. At various remote points, individual discon­ tent with life's immediate sensations erupted as political action. Little evidence suggested a recognition that inter­ governmental institutions such as Unesco might be reac­ tivated for changing the world of the senses. During May 1968, a Unesco House conference assessing Karl Marx's influence on contemporary scientific thought was overshad­ owed in significance by rebellious actions a few blocks away. A May 1970 survey enabled two Yale University pro­ fessors to conclude that 75 percent of American college students thought that "basic changes in the system" would be necessary to improve the quality of life in their country. While 19 percent thought that America was "currently on the right track," 44 percent sensed that "social progress" was more likely to occur through "radical pressure from outside the system" than through the "major institutions in our sys­ tem—government, business, etc." In 1964, Maheu proposed an international voluntary service corps; on 7 December 1970 the UN General Assembly endorsed this concept. For some time, however, governments demonstrated insufficient commitment to organize a working multilateral program.68 Meanwhile, Unesco's physical plant expanded, partly un­ derground, and the institution's activities grew in magni­ tude at headquarters and afield. Maheu offered his assess­ ment of the contemporary state of human evolution. 66 Kenneth Keniston and Michael Lerner, "The Unholy Alliance Against the Campus," NYTM, 8 November 1970, p. 56; "La Con­ ference sur la jeunesse demande: . . .," Le Monde, 4 September 1964; "International Youth Conference in France," School and Society, 92 (28 November 1964), pp. 365-66; Kathleen Teltsch, "U.N. Estab­ lishes, 91-0, a Corps of Volunteers to Help Poor Countries," NYT, 8 December 1970; M. A. Farber, "U.N. 'Peace Corps' Program Is Making Its Mark in Poor Nations After 2 Years," NYT, 12 November 1972.

274

F O R M A T I O N A N D EVOLUTION

One day no doubt the nations will realize that it is the very organization of the world itself which needs to be reordered, its machinery and its rules revised. I think that day is not far off, for the deterioration . . . which gener­ ates local conflicts and a permanent, general state of ten­ sion . . . cannot continue indefinitely. . . . Then, of course, when new destinies are being worked out, no boldness, no generosity will be too great, and Unesco's duty will place it in the vanguard of the movement. But until that day . . . arrives, I recognize that . . . par­ ticular importance must attach to continuity. . . .67 Looking back, it might seem that every phase in the life of this intergovernmental organization had arisen from quirky individual behavior. Institutional personification— our tendency to cast the plural in singular form by phrases such as "Unesco does this" or "the UN itself does that"— comes as an afterthought, though as a necessary price for communication. The review of participants engaging in Unesco reminds us what is sacrificed when in the present study and elsewhere we employ reifying concepts such as the names of nation-states and the acronyms of nongovern­ mental and intergovernmental organizations. Institutionalization can be regarded as a process whereby the interests of the institution come to differ from the inter­ ests of individuals who make up the institution.68 However, any institution s effectiveness depends upon how well indi­ viduals' commitments mesh with larger purposes. Institu­ tional choices without participants' support do not yield decisive outcomes, let alone such generally accepted goods as security and well-being. Since institutional effectiveness hinges upon the quality of participation, it behooves us to inquire how participants modify their engagement in response to the challenges 67 "The Re-election of the Director-General," UC, 14 (December 1968), pp. 480-81. 68 Huntington, p. 25.

REGENERATION?

275

posed by an intergovernmental organization. Moreover, we should examine the impact of such challenges upon nationstates that become involved in intergovernmental organiza­ tion. Before addressing these concerns, however, we exam­ ine institutional leadership as it bears upon engaging.

LEADERS AND ACTORS: MODES OF ENGAGING

6. POLITICAL LEADERSHIP BY EXECUTIVE MANAGERS

IN THE world we glimpse by following the development of

Unesco, principal actors maintain international relations mostly through unilateral or bilateral channels. For indi­ viduals who lead universal intergovernmental organizations, such a situation poses the question of how to widen and deepen the multilateral confluences they direct. This we introduced as the problem of eliciting more substantial engagement. More substantial engagement refers to the qual­ ity of participation no less than to the quantity of partici­ pants. It is reasonable to conclude that most executive man­ agers recognize this problem, although often they cast it in other terms. Presently we will consider why fuller partici­ pant engagement is sought by leaders of intergovernmental institutions; then we will inquire how it is attempted, and indeed how it might be tried. But first, the question of why some persons choose pathways toward political leadership invites exploration. THE CALLING OF POLITICAL LEADERSHIP We do not know precisely why individuals get actively involved in politics, or why some among them succumb to the call of leadership in intergovernmental organizations. Erik Erikson suggests that the creative and effective leader strives to solve for all what he cannot solve for himself alone. The less creative and effective leader, too, may be trying to solve something that to him seems possible only by such means. Political activism, then, may be a special

280

MODES O F ENGAGING

case of adaptive behavior stemming from private need and directed toward the situation containing oneself.1 The quest for an opportunity for leadership may reflect a man's strug­ gle to reintegrate himself in the throes of disorienting ex­ perience. Whatever his historical profile, the aspirant to leadership of an intergovernmental organization seizes upon an extraordinary means for mitigating his problem. Few are called to politics as a vocation; fewer by far are called to serve such international institutions as Unesco. These few individuals no doubt are impelled by mixtures of motives. If we rely on Weber's distinction from Chapter 1, the man who lives for politics may hunger for power either because he wants to exert this power or because he longs to serve a cause.2 All categories of human behavior are arbitrary, and Weber's no less than others' are flawed. Hav­ ing sounded this cautionary note, we shall construct alter­ native explanations of why international political leaders seek fuller participant engagement in their institutions. Let us carry forward Weber's two suggested motivations. THE QUEST FOR UPGRADED ENGAGEMENT: TWO EXPLANATIONS Let us assume that the man at the top of a universal inter­ governmental organization is driven by an appetite for power as such. Why does he want others to engage further in his institution? The builder of influence may wish to real­ ize a grander domain of subleaders and followers. He may value those who engage for their contributions of man­ power, finance and so on, resources he can parlay toward 1 Cf. James David Barber, The Lawmakers (New Haven: Yale University Press), pp. 223-25. 2 Weber is quoted above on p. 20. We may observe that vanity blends either with the aggregation of power or with the driving dream in an urge to political action. Political activism gratifies the egos of empire-builders and messiahs alike. But since ego-gratification char­ acterizes all human endeavor, this does not seem very useful as a discriminating test.

POLITICAL LEADERSHIP

281

further influence. Or he may view them as counters in an international contest, in which case he would regard their participation as the medium of scoring and treat their in­ volvement in his institution as a security against depredation by his competitors within the international system. He may project a global field of actors who also appear bent upon cornering power: unilateral strategists—heads of governments; foreign of­ fices; military establishments; bilateral strategists—substantive ministries; private and quasi-private associations that conduct exchanges un­ der ministerial aegis; particularist strategists—executive managers of "regional" organizations; governments and military leaders (or economic pace-setters) of the dominant states partici­ pating in such arrangements; client elites within the geopolitical or economic areas thus organized; other universal strategists—his counterparts in other in­ tergovernmental organizations who may be seen in his own image, accurately or not, as adversaries eager to maximize their jurisdiction and other attributes of in­ fluence at his expense.3 But a person might truly wish further engagement for reasons that differ from the ones just contemplated. Through their rhetoric and their actions we glimpse some men s visions of how to mitigate the human predicament in which they find themselves. Jaime Torres Bodet and Luther Evans, for all their outward differences, were men deeply im­ printed by early experiences who placed their dreams and their lives at the service of discordant masters within a divided household. In other cases, too, leadership behavior suggests devotion to a cause. Albert Thomas in ILO, Gunnar Myrdal in the UN Economic Commission for Europe (ECE), John Boyd-Orr in FAO, Brock Chisholm in WHO, 3 Cf. Matthew Holden, Jr., "'Imperialism' in Bureaucracy," Amer­ ican Political Science Review, 60 (December 1966), pp. 943-51.

282

MODES O F ENGAGING

Dag Hammarskjold, Jean Monnet in the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC), Raiil Prebisch in the UN Economic Commission for Latin America (ECLA) and UNCTAD, Paul HofiEman in the UN Special Fund and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP)—these among others stand out as men who foresaw a possible world order and acted determinedly, if in some cases tragi­ cally, to realize it. Why should such men welcome engagement by others who may tamper with their private visions? The answer seems rather simple. Some individuals learn that they can solve for themselves only what they can get all together to solve. In terms familiar to our inquiry, they become aware that to choose what is undertaken is not to guarantee what will be accomplished. Execution of a task is not identical with its expansion. Actual outcomes depend heavily upon positive actions beyond "decision" and perhaps beyond the influence of executive leadership. Fuller engagement by governments, for all the anguish it causes the visionary, thus is recognized as a condition necessary for implementing some flawed portion of his original design. Visionary international political leaders do not always adapt in this manner, as previous chapters remind us. James David Barber's description of tendencies toward impa­ tience among "active-positive" U.S. Presidents might be applied virtually without amendment to certain executive managers. To express bluntly what is really much more complicated: the character who has overcome his own hang-ups, who has leaped over the barriers between himself and the real world, whose bent is toward rational mastery of the en­ vironment, is likely to forget, from time to time, that other persons, publics, and institutions maintain them­ selves in rather messier ways. . . . [T]his type may want a political institution "to deliberate like Plato's Academy and then take action like Caesar's army," neglecting the

POLITICAL LEADERSHIP

283

necessities of emotional inspiration and peaceful pro­ cedure.4 Such men suffer heartache or heartbreak, but rarely do they leave the world as they found it. This sketch revises the model of leadership advanced in a previous study.5 There, in a context emphasizing executive managers of the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, the key to successful leadership seemed to be autonomy—the autonomy of an executive manager from member governments. Autonomy was achieved in IBRD through a combination of managerial decisiveness and for­ tuitous conditions. Noteworthy developments included: the early resignation of President Eugene Meyer over the prin­ ciple of whether bankers or governments should run IBRD; his successor's insistence upon the primacy of the bankers if he were to assume the office; the gradual shift in financial reliance and in accountability from governments toward private financial circles; and, most importantly for present comparison, the sufficiency of choices reached by the high­ est Bank officials to assure that policy decisions actually were implemented. We tried to show why few if any Bank participants oppose judgments leading to either a loan or a bond issue. But despite this pattern, the absence of pre­ dictable compliance in virtually every other choice-andimplementation sequence by intergovernmental organiza­ tions suggests that autonomy in the sense earlier conceived is not enough to assure effective leadership. Indeed, to the extent that public appropriations for underwriting soft-term credits from the International Development Association window of IBRD have in recent years made national legis­ lators into virtual IDA participants, the Bank Group Presi­ dent (currently Robert McNamara) can hardly expect au4 Barber,

"The President and His Friends," paper prepared for delivery at the American Political Science Association meeting, New York, September 1969, p. 25. 5 Functionalisin and World Politics, pp. 264ff.

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MODES OF ENGAGING

tonomy to serve as an adequate condition of institutional effectiveness. Here as elsewhere the executive manager must cultivate firm commitments by primary participants, the governments of nation-states, no less than those by nongov­ ernmental associations such as banks and other firms. The leader of an intergovernmental institution seeks autonomy, but an effective institution depends also upon heightened engaging by other participants. THE ANIMATION OF ENGAGEMENT How do international political leaders bring about fur­ ther engagement? Consider how the achievement of mana­ gerial autonomy itself may invite further engaging. The executive manager who disposes of highly valued resources will be regarded by rational participants as a man whose choices are worth influencing. And influence, as we have seen, is a function of proximity to these choices. Just as position and ability to manipulate resources further the au­ tonomy of an international leader, in turn his autonomy tends to elevate the engagement of other institutional par­ ticipants. This response is Hkely if participants perceive out­ comes as "goods"; it is more problematic if they regard out­ comes as "evils." International Bank leaders have manipulated resources in a manner to increase their autonomy. Financial stakes lead to fuller engagement by low-income borrowers and, belated­ ly, by more affluent public subscribers of the funds allocated from the Bank's IDA credit window. In Unesco, too, recent leaders induce upgraded engagement, even while they gain autonomy, by diversifying the sources of financial support. Various participants report dismay over the attenuation of their control due to increased membership and new sources of extra-budgetary funds. (See Figure 6.1.) A characteristic response is to try regaining control early in the institution's program-and-budget cycle through the Geneva Group cau­ cus and through negotiation on financial ceilings between

FIGURE 6.1. Unesco Budgetary and Extra-Budgetary (UNDP) Funds, 1947-1971/2.

286

MODES OF ENGAGING

spokesmen for the national treasuries of high-income states and Unesco officials. Another response has been the effort by certain Western governments to "coordinate" all operational activities of UN specialized agencies through the funds vol­ unteered by governments to the UNDP, presently headed by an American citizen and located in New York. International political leaders buttress their autonomy by executive budgeting and by procedures that enable them to intervene in formulating their institution's agenda. Inte­ gration of extra-budgetary funds with the regular budget serves as a powerful instrument for Rene Maheu. The op­ portunities for program initiatives now available to execu­ tive managers suggest to attentive governmental partici­ pants both cause for concern over accomplished facts and cause for celebration if these initiatives can be turned to their benefit. Again, a rational response to executive auton­ omy is that of intensifying engagement. However, this re­ sponse does not invariably follow. Similarly, the non-financial resources of which the Unesco Director-General disposes contribute to his autonomy and thus potentially to further engagement by participants as an indirect consequence of increasing autonomy. Institu­ tionalization yields a situation wherein the secretariat in general and an intelligent political leader in particular know much more than governments about the content of the pro­ gram and the intricacies of programming.6 When other par­ ticipants cannot readily grasp what is going on, and become aware of this, the option of elevated engaging once more is fairly raised. Fuller participant engaging may be precipitated by means other than the autonomy of an executive manager. What he is may itself prove a significant inducement, for people be6 Albert Thomas replied to an Australian move to cut back the ILO publications budget on the grounds that the publications were not used (the Australian delegate had never heard of the publications in question) by quoting a series of letters from Australians in appre­ ciation of the series. Phelan, p. 135.

POLITICAL LEADERSHIP

287

have according to predispositions to identify with their leaders as well as inclinations to calculate costs and benefits. When a man becomes executive manager of a major inter­ national organization, his fellow nationals, his co-religionists, and perhaps other sets of individuals invest his person, and by easy extension his institution, with emotional sig­ nificance. He is one of their own; thus his institution belongs to them in a way it did not belong before. And as women become executive managers, they will attract an important untapped cross-section of the world's population. One qualification is necessary. Engagement through cathexis depends not only upon the particular nominee and his potential followers, but also upon the timing of his se­ lection. Maximum effect hinges on a ripeness of situation whose surest indication is the home government's support, even its active help, to secure his election. Veronese had this; Evans did not. Huxley, according to British sources officially involved during his tenure, never enjoyed much support from his own government. Certainly he received little from other English-speaking governments. On the other hand, Torres Bodet's selection was greeted and his travails recounted by massive press coverage and other man­ ifestations of attentiveness to Unesco activities throughout Latin America. Maheu achieved his ascendancy despite early French agreement not to press for a French DirectorGeneral and over a later official preference for other French citizens in the post. But his presence and his actions unques­ tionably strengthened the ties of many French publics to Unesco. An astute international political leader can capitalize on his own natural tendencies to attract certain publics while deliberately augmenting this ability. His secretariat appoint­ ments offer an opportunity to multiply the effects of per­ sonal identification, although of course he must weigh this possibility against other considerations. The executive manager's range of appointive choice is limited by political and constitutional constraints, and by his

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MODES OF ENGAGING

anticipation of the opportunity costs of any given decision. Most pernicious is the veto a government can wield over its own citizens who are thought to manifest questionable national loyalty.7 Unesco's constitution, much like the con­ ventions of other international organizations, specifies the "paramount consideration" of "integrity, efficiency and technical competence" in selection of personnel. Although everyone salutes such criteria, political leaders often find it difficult to reconcile the test of technical preparation with their appreciation of how to entice further engagement or fairly represent member nations.8 The expectation of early members that certain top posts are theirs, moreover, attains the status of prescriptive right, at least in the conviction of established groups. When new participants demand their share of nationals in such positions, they argue cogently 7 Regarding a "secret" agreement with which this procedure was instituted in 1949 by the U.S. Department of State and UN SecretaryGeneral Trygve Lie, see Shirley Hazzard, Defeat of an Ideal (Boston: Little, Brown, 1973), pp. 14S. In Hazzard's polemical essay this act takes on the character of original sin. 8 Government participants now prescribe for their executive man­ agers a system of periodic reporting on progress toward equity in the geographic distribution of staff appointments. Thus, for instance, Unesco member states are broken down as follows on the basis of their degree of "representation" in the secretariat:

"Overrepresented" "Adequately represented" "Underrepresented" "Unrepresented"

At 1 December 1971

At 1 December 1970

At 1 December 1969

31

30

27

33

28

36

43 18

44 23

36 26

Report of the Director-General. . . 1971 (Paris: Unesco, 1972), p. 220.

POLITICAL LEADERSHIP

289

upon other grounds. In the case of low-income members, the argument may feature an alleged international need or collective good. The executive manager must calculate prudently since an appointment gain by some is frequently perceived as an appointment loss by others. He can "sell" posts for political support, but by doing so he may alienate other participants and possibly contribute to their disen­ gagement. Maheu circulates vitae of candidates and sensi­ tizes himself through a variety of exposures both semipublic and private to the intensities with which personnel preferences are held by Unesco participants. Upon an over­ sized balance sheet the Director-General enters his estimate of the consequences from various choices. Then he decides. A longer view suggests trends in the discretion enjoyed by executive managers when making appointments and il­ lustrates how personnel choices spark the interplay of au­ tonomy and engaging. Eric Drummond, the first League of Nations Secretary-General, served during a period when Great Powers' representatives sometimes excused their chief administrator while they determined who would work near him. Drummond adapted readily to this formality, though he evidently influenced some League questions more pro­ foundly than his reputation for anonymity once suggested.9 Trygve Lie, as we saw in chapter 3, did not always get the man he wanted, nor did he secure any substitute national as quickly as he wished. But Executive Secretary Gunnar Myrdal used his appointive discretion to advantage in gain­ ing closer engagement by the Soviet Union and the United Kingdom during the leaner years of the UN Economic Com­ mission for Europe. He reserved for a Soviet citizen of his 9

Robert Jackson, "A Search for Executive Leadership: The Secre­ taries-General of the League of Nations," unpublished essay, Yale University, January 1971, p. 10; see also James Barros, A Peacemaker in World Politics: Secretary-General Sir Eric Drummond, 1919-1933, forthcoming. Clemenceau reportedly reacted to Drummond's appoint­ ment with the affirmation that he knew "how to keep quiet in seven languages." L'lllustration, 1 July 1933, p. 341, quoted by Jackson, p. 3.

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choice one deputy post, resisted the nominee officially thrust forward, and eventually prevailed, at least to the extent of gaining several Soviet candidates among whom to choose. Soviet threats to disengage diminished with Myrdal's subsequent choices for the secretariat. When Myrdal and the British later fell out over a comparable question, the Soviet spokesman expressed cautious support of execu­ tive responsibility for appointments.10 On the other hand, Director-General Wilfred Jenks ran athwart American Fed­ eration of Labor officials and a Congressional sector of the American public because of the manner of his appointment of a Soviet citizen to high ILO position.11 What was gained in the attraction of a more representative ILO staff thus was lost, temporarily at least, through U.S. disengagement in the form of withdrawn financial support. ROMAN CATHOLIC ENGAGEMENT AND UNESCO EXECUTIVE MANAGERS The effects upon engagement that political leaders make by their persons and by their actions are clarified by citing a Unesco case. For ample historical reason, officials of the Roman Catholic Church tend to view with disbelief the claims of ideological neutrality advanced by other interna­ tional institutions. Such suspicions were heightened when an organization whose founders espoused universal partici­ pation and listed sweeping goals in education, science, cul­ ture, and communications entered the field. Julian Huxley could not—some say he would not—calm these concerns by what he was or what he did. "When the newspapers re­ ported that Mr. Huxley's aim would be to supply the entire terrestrial globe with a single, unified culture," editorialized 10 Brian

Bellardo, "Gunnar Myrdal, the ECE and Intra-European Trade," unpublished essay, Yale University, January 1971, pp. If. 11 Cox, "ILO: Limited Monarchy," p. 137; "I.L.O. Aid Confident Despite Dues Issue," NYT, 23 June 1971; "Move to Pay I.L.O. Re­ jected by House," NYT, 25 June 1971.

POLITICAL LEADERSHIP

291

Commonweal on the 1946 version of Unesco's purpose and

philosophy, "those who had wondered a bit at his appoint­ ment felt themselves justified in their wonderment; this was what you might expect from one of the few remaining apostles of nineteenth-century scientism. . . ." However, Jacques Maritain's functionalist-like thesis of many roads to human rights and other Unesco destinies soon translated threat into challenge. "How can we get them to see," asked a commentator on Catholicism and Unesco several years after Maritain's 1947 formula, "that only the natural-law philosophy makes human rights intelligible and meaning­ ful?"12 Although not considered a devout Roman Catholic, Tor­ res Bodet did much to allay concern about Unesco's leader­ ship by his presence and his connections with others bearing the faith. At the same time his vision of massive literacy programs raised new signs of disquietude. Such a proposal upon the international level may be compared in passing with a proposal to pave a local street: both may appear nonpolitical; each pulses with political implications. The local choice embraces questions of whether to pave at all, who shall pay, who shall receive the contracts for supplies and work, and whose street shall be paved. The prospect of ed­ ucation by international means offers analogous questions but in addition raises much more prickly issues, including the language in which learners will become functionally literate and the values that they will practice reading and writing about. In one of his early acts as Director-General, Evans, a Protestant, visited the Pope. By the 1950s, appropriate ges­ tures could help to reassure Roman Catholics, at least 12 "Julian Huxley and UNESCO," Commonweal, 45 (4 April 1947), p. 604; "Catholics and UNESCO," America, 86 (24 Novem­ ber 1954), pp. 197-98. Thames, "An Analysis of Representative Ideological Criticism . . . ," is most helpful for the early period; this account draws on pp. 116, 146, 200-27. See also Alex Ranasinghe, Unesco's Cultural Mission (New York: Carlton, 1969).

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those outside the United States. However, the challenge of Unesco field activities in such areas as Latin America loomed ominously. Again Unesco leadership had bid the stakes higher, quite possibly without recognizing it. What would become of Catholic missions and missionaries? What should be done in response? Vittorino Veronese's campaign was an answer of sorts to the latter question, and his election led to a great outpour­ ing of support for him and for Unesco. Veronese hardly needed extraordinary moves to assure a harmonious work­ ing relationship between his Church and his intergovern­ mental institution. Nor did Maheu, largely because of the amity and patterns of collaboration forged during Vero­ nese's ascent from Board chairman to Director-General. Both men utilized their appointive discretion to good effect, and both worked closely at Unesco with the Holy See's permanent observer—himself the embodiment of an act of engagement initiated by Cardinal Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli. Maheu carried on a skeptic's flirtation with the Church, thus inviting emissaries of the Vatican and more recently Pope John XXIII (as Roncalli became) and Pope Paul VI to try convincing him and other Unescans of their way. Of course delicate issues such as the writing of mankind's his­ tory arise from time to time. And executive managers may well ponder that increased Roman Catholic engagement is not without serious costs to their autonomy, notably in matters concerning family planning. But on the whole, questions of common concern are dealt with pragmatically and with common benefit. THE BOON AND BANE OF PRIOR EXPERIENCE The ability to encourage engaging remains for the most part a function of learning rather than a matter of being born to a fixed capacity. Every political leader's behavior is affected by what he experienced before becoming executive manager. His approach may be molded by a key solution to

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some vexing difficulty, which he looks back upon as a chal­ lenge met by personal triumph.13 Or he may simply con­ clude that his prior experience offers the only proper way to solve a problem characteristic to several fields of activity. For instance, Trygve Lie related his handling of minor UN issues to prior success in another realm: I see the parties at lunch, or give a small dinner party. I can bring them together, or sometimes I mediate without bringing them together. Then I ask something with the knowledge of the other and back again. . . . It is very much like the processes of settling labor disputes. Investi­ gation, mediation, arbitration. It is very much the same kind of work. . . . I was legal adviser to the Norwegian trade unions. I gained great experience with the trade unions. . . . It is about the same sort of thing.14 Huxley's university-like commons room and his brain-storm­ ing for conscious man-made evolutionary progress, Torres Bodet's escalation of education for community development from a local to a global scale, Evans' openness to fellow staff members and his tendency to react merely as judge of others' initiatives or as administrator of what they should decide, Veronese's fondness for rhetorical harmonization of discordancy, Maheu's professorial lectures in the program hearings to those not yet attaining the level of his perspec­ tive—all show that whatever political leaders do, they do 13 Cf. the analyses of U.S. Presidents by Barber; more specifically, "Adult Identity and Presidential Style: The Rhetorical Emphasis," in Dankwart Rustow, ed., Philosophers and Kings (New York: Braziller, 1970), pp. 939, 963-64; "Classifying and Predicting Presidential Styles: Two 'Weak' Presidents," Journal of Social Issues, 24 (July 1968), pp. 52, 61-62, 78. And see The Presidential Character (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1972). 14 Quoted from Stephen M. Schwebel, The Secretary-General of the United Nations (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1952), p. 139, by William Li, "Tiygve Lie: The First Secretary-General of the United Nations," unpublished essay, Yale University, January 1971, p. 15.

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not begin with their assumption of the current public role. Yet antecedent lessons can prove misleading if circum­ stances change. The effective leader may have to forget past victories in order to learn how to grapple with present problems. More specifically, the imperative of wholehearted participant engagement for institutional effectiveness is like­ ly to reach his awareness late and at that point to find him ill prepared. When he left office, for instance, Huxley be­ moaned the unwillingness of member governments to "live up to their obligations," but concluded that his organiza­ tion could "only ask them" and "try to stimulate them" to do so. Years after his Unesco duty he remarked favorably upon Bertrand de Jouvenel's "illuminating definition of politics as action directed towards inducing men to co-operate in a common enterprise."15 Beyond the affective relationships that stem from a particular leader s innate attraction and from his appointments, how do executive managers en­ gender engagement? How can they? RULES OF THUMB We can presume neither to offer an operational code of how executive managers really act16 nor to purvey advice on how they should act in order to enhance the effectiveness of their institutions. But our study does suggest a few clues about superior political leadership and about fruitful at15 Sam

Pope Brewer, "UNESCO Welcomes Its New Director," NYT, 11 December 1948; Huxley on de Jouvenel, New Bottles for New Wine (New York: Harper, 1957), p. 311, quoted by Τ. V. Sathyamurthy, The Politics of International Cooperation, p. 88. 16 On this mode of analysis, see Alexander L. George, "The 'Op­ erational Code': A Neglected Approach to the Study of Political Leaders and Decision-Making," International Studies Quarterly, 13 (June 1969), pp. 190-222. A sage executive manager, David A. Morse, offers his guidelines for leadership during the immediate decade in American Society of International Law, Proceedings, American Journal of International Law, 66 (September 1972), pp. 86-87.

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tempts to induce participants into further institutional en­ gagement. Here we draw together intimations from earlier stages of our inquiry in the form of three rules of thumb. 1. Make your breaks whenever possible, but play the re­ bounds however they may come. Politics is like playing squash with an egg-shaped ball, according to Terry Sanford. The man without a positive streak of opportunism is not a sound risk as executive manager, or for that matter a good bet to become executive manager. Beyond his attainment of high public position, a mark of the outstanding leader is his ability to respond resourcefully to the unexpected—to be able to envisage alternative consequences as well as to react quickly. Deliberation-become-indecision is fatal, but the wrong response may be equally grave. Unheralded events sometimes enable a dexterous exec­ utive manager to raise his institution's stakes and thus to precipitate upgraded engaging. We have seen how inter­ national catastrophe is a stimulant to organizing interna­ tionally. Subsequent crises, man-made or otherwise, furnish the stuff from which institutional development is shaped. An adept political leader can use crises to expand tasks or to remold support for himself and his policies. Crisis-using requires timeliness of response and a measure of showman­ ship. Aaron Wildavsky writes in another context of the "borderline area of discretion in which crises may be made to appear more real."17 Unesco Directors-General, especially those of recent years, use natural and human calamities to start new programs or to strengthen old ones. 2. Always remember that the job demands political action, but do your political maneuvering in a manner that protects you from charges of playing politics. NonpoliticaI politics aids autonomy, which in turn triggers participant engaging. Blatant politics sacrifices the personal confidence that par­ ticipants hold in an executive manager while affording them reasons for disengaging. 17 The Politics of the Budgetary Process, p. 119.

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The demise of Joseph Avenol's grossly political League of Nations Secretaryship-General18 stands as a reminder to those who drink from the cup of international leadership. Yet most men err on the side of insufficient activism. A vigorous leader must, it is true, inevitably place himself at odds with the policy preferences of others. How much an executive manager can affect actual outcomes without arousing cries of "foul" ("politics") is one indication of the quality of his leadership. The issue is not how quietly a leader can surrender, or how empty he will leave his grand design, but the results he can get without debilitating rami­ fications. Even so, forced resignation when he goes too far should not be judged such an unmitigated failure as today seems common. Responsibility, in the sense of speaking one's mind and standing accountable for one's actions, is near the essence of political leadership within polyarchic systems. Indeed, the ego too may best be served—especially in the anticipation of history—by a courageous stand lead­ ing to resignation, although most men seem tempted more by the prospect or justification of remaining to fight another day. Thus they struggle through a series of tomorrows of acquiescence. Effective leadership necessitates the optimal exercise of politics, not the delusion that one can abstain from political action. Different people find different ways to shield their polit­ ical moves. Ernst Haas asserts that successful executive managers develop organizational ideologies based on mem­ bers' stated goals.19 These doctrines then can be used to justify expanded institutional tasks. The executive manager selects from among many demands of international actors or organizational participants. Yet at the same time he can interpret these doctrines in a way that guides his staff subleaders and restrains their divergent intentions. Political applications thus seem less sinister because they are rep18See James Barros, Betrayal From Within (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1969). 19 Beyond the Nation-State, pp. 119-25.

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resented as appeals to institutional norms and quite possibly supported by the invocation of some specific clause within a constitutional instrument ratified by member states. IBRD leaders deftly employ economic or banking jargon to make essentially political choices seem technical.20 Rene Maheu throws out for Executive Board or General Conference debate certain problems he ostentatiously labels political. This gambit takes him off the hook for troublesome and often ritual matters while allowing him to deal more freely with others, which are called nonpolitical. In some cases it has even been possible to develop a sort of code by which politics can go on in public arenas without onlookers becom­ ing any the wiser. "You shouldn't oppose me on 'coordina­ tion'," said Maheu to one delegation head. "When you say 'coordination', it means you don't want anything to be done. You should oppose me on something else." 3. Build for tomorrow what you cannot achieve today. Opportunism and the inevitability of politics notwithstand­ ing, stunning feats have little place in the repertoire of an executive manager. The international political leader with a consuming purpose quite possibly will come to see him­ self as a sort of modern-day Sisyphus, toiling, without much help from anyone else, against tremendous odds. However, he and his institution will probably be served more by sequential plotting than by the great leap. Charles E. Lindblom refers to reconstructive leadership, which "molds the moving structure of preferences."21 It is important rather than a hindrance for one to have his own preferences and for these to occupy coherent positions within a longer view. An ingenious executive manager works upon others' pref­ erences; he also may try to modify the intensity with which these are held and other preferences, including his own, are opposed. 20 Cf.

Jagdish Bhagwati and Padma Desai, Planning for Industrial­ ization (New York: Oxford University Press, 1970), chapter x. 21 The Policy-Making Process (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1968), pp. 105, 106.

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Astute leaders look toward future sources of political support. The executive manager begins with an electionwinning coalition; in all likelihood he will devote his early efforts toward consolidating this coalition. Of course such a makeshift hardly approaches party government, but it does offer strong feedback to the political leader because coalition participants understand that he is their man. How­ ever, a fixed base of political support may afford the execu­ tive manager little leverage upon some problems. In an era of majorities comprising Third-World participants and mi­ norities featuring affluent participants, plenary choices often issue in stalemate rather than in decisive outcomes. An adept leader thus may strive to construct new bases which accommodate differing executive initiatives. For instance, he may cultivate ad hoc backers for a particular measure among some participants from the North who will go along with the predominant number of supporters from Asia, Africa, and Latin America. The question of fostering close ties with domestic oppo­ sitions in member states is delicate but important. The ex­ ecutive manager will recognize that this sort of affair bears dangers, but he also may behold here an opportunity to lay a foundation for the future. We have seen that earth-shaking events or even incongruous experiences sometimes set off an actor's adaptation to changed circumstances, and that op­ posed elements within this actor's constitution may give rise to an innovative response. Although the range of possi­ ble reactions to challenge is limited in the case of an indi­ vidual actor, no matter how richly textured may be his per­ sonal makeup, it is immeasurably greater in the case of a polyarchic political unit. The executive manager who is alert—and plucky—builds upon this potentiality. Readers will appreciate how much all these paths toward effectiveness are menaced by the hazards of participant disengagement and the threats to a leader's tenure. Yet they will probably share the observation that in intergovern­ mental institutions, too, nothing risked means nothing

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gained. Max Weber's truth would make a fitting reminder upon the desk of every executive manager: "man could not have attained the possible unless time and again he had reached out for the impossible."22 A major sign of increasing effectiveness is that of how much leadership (in tandem with other forces) has been able to reconstruct the expectations of original participants. As we have seen, founders are apt to believe that constitu­ tion-making, official membership, and the prompt payment of assessments ought to suffice for accomplishing their con­ stitutional aims. The executive manager must drive home the lesson that wholehearted participation is necessary for their institution effectively to approach original goals, to resolve claims advanced by new participants, or to grapple with fears and hopes born of consciousness that we live upon a finite planet. A SIMILE AND ITS APPLICATIONS Rules of thumb may take us closer to the nature of out­ standing leadership, but simile also aids our understanding. The politician as artist is one favored simile. Political leader­ ship is like writing poetry in the sense that freedom of action, as Gide said of freedom in poetry, is not a conse­ quence of the absence of obligations but rather the control of these obligations through the exercise of talent.23 With simile we acknowledge the insight that leadership at its best recognizes both constraint and immediate opportunity, yet somehow transcends them with acts of durable creation that we find difficult to codify. I propose another simile for leadership: the propagation of symbiotic relationships. An executive manager's success 22 "Politics

as a Vocation," p. 128. the reference to Gide I am indebted to Torres Bodet's Tiempo de arena, p. Ill, as quoted by Sonja Karsen, ed., Selected Poems of Jaime Torres Bodet (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1964), p. 31. 23 For

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depends upon his invention and construction of ways in which his institutional "organism" can usefully cohabit with unlike institutions. In earlier chapters we witnessed Unesco leaders developing relations with UNDP, IBRD, and com­ parable intergovernmental institutions. Next we address the husbandry of relations with more elemental species in the global ecosystem. Let us summarize, in general terms, their amenability to engagement. A political unit that is functionally specific (i.e., designed to undertake a narrow range of activities) engages readily and thoroughly in intergovernmental organization. Trans­ national organizations or NGOs with specific purposes are easily enticed into the innermost workings of intergovern­ mental institutions that have corresponding or complemen­ tary purposes. We offer some examples in the paragraphs that follow. Political units with diffuse purposes—notably nation-states—respond more reluctantly. We consider them in chapter 7. Just as International Bank Group presidents commingle with private bankers and spokesmen for other financial in­ stitutions, and European Community commissioners culti­ vate representatives of various national interest groups and transnational associations, Unesco Directors-General carry on diverse transactions with a clientele of NGO agents. Unesco leaders, particularly Huxley, stand as creators of new NGO units almost more than as makers of roles for joint Unesco-NGO operation. It has remained for Huxley's successors to try constructing devices for collaboration which are conducive to greater mutual effectiveness. In this they have met with very limited success. Ernst Haas offers a companion proposition. The stronger an international organization s feedback through select non­ governmental groups, the weaker will be the impact upon the nations in which these groups inhere, because such NGOs are marginal to national political leaders. This ap­ pears to explain much of the experience of Unesco-associated NGOs to date. Individuals, often armed with little

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more than a burning desire to pursue some transnational activity, and backed by only a few followers, achieve af­ filiate status and its perquisites from Unesco. Their work may be important, indeed vital in the sense that they pose ideas and then execute the projects that result from them. But here consequences often end. Only a limited number of people beyond the NGO adherents usually are touched by work executed under Unesco contracts or subventions. At the same time, the performance of several major NGOs intertwined with Unesco demonstrates that under excep­ tional circumstances, at least, transnational impact from engaged NGOs can be considerable. The International Council of Scientific Unions (ICSU) and the World Con­ federation of Organizations of the Teaching Profession (WCOTP), along with the Roman Catholic Church, show that not all NGOs lack potency in their relations with Unesco. Here the evidence of symbiosis is striking. In 1963, Maheu proposed and ICSU accepted an integral relation­ ship whereby this major confederation of scientific unions should provide a panel replacing the former Unesco ad­ visory committee on research in the natural sciences. And Unesco educational programs in Latin America sometimes embrace individuals who previously headed local missions of the Roman Catholic Church. We do not know nearly enough about the symbiotic re­ lationships between intergovernmental institutions and par­ ticipating NGO units. What we do know suggests several attributes of influence and hints that executive managers can, and sometimes do, serve as instructors in its develop­ ment by NGOs. One nongovernmental spokesman credits Rene Maheu with outspoken curiosity about such matters as the number and disposition of his NGO troops. By such exchanges an executive manager conveys to the responsive his wish that NGOs become world-wide in membership, in orientation, and in capacity. He also may bid for greater personal prominence among their existing members. In a dialogue with the U.S. National Education Association pres-

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ident, reported in the Association's journal, Maheu hoped "that NEA could make teachers realize that UNESCO is the organization of the teaching profession, just as the Inter­ national Labor Organization is the organization of the work­ ers."24 To gain more nongovernmental leverage, participants have to come closer to and operate within Unesco premises. A few NGO representatives learn these lessons. Although many rely upon resolutions passed at NGO conclaves, or upon their right to intervene in General Conference or other Unesco sessions, the shrewder draft speeches for Confer­ ence delegates and Board members during these meetings. They also work cheek to jowl with their counterparts in the secretariat throughout the program cycle. It should not be assumed that all nongovernmental col­ laboration with intergovernmental organizations falls neat­ ly under the rubric "NGOs." An examination of IBRD reminds us that far and away the most interesting relation­ ships may occur outside this formal denomination. The reader may recall evidence of such symbiosis in the chapters above. Large-scale field projects, especially, attract some groups interested in direct financial gain, and others inter­ ested in indirect pecuniary opportunities opened as side effects of projects in the field. In many instances encountered above, nongovernmental and intergovernmental roles proved so malleable that men of imagination shaped them merely by bold individual acts. Nation-state roles are more binding; governments offer greater resistance than do leaders of NGOs to the creator of international symbiosis. Yet his halfway measures can induce governments to modify established ways when en­ gaging internationally. For example, leaders of the Inter­ national Bank for Reconstruction and Development fashion intergovernmental consortia to finance development in In­ dia, Pakistan, and elsewhere. Unesco leaders invite projects financed by individual governments with funds-in-trust but 24"The

Road to Peace and Progress," Today's Education, 59 (May

1970), p. 23.

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executed by their own institution. They accommodate other activities financed and executed directly by individual gov­ ernments in liaison with Unesco projects.25 By such artifices, executive managers may help governments to reduce their reliance upon unilateral strategies and come to use universal ones. Nation-states present the international political leader with a problem resembling that in the fable of stone soup. This tale, allowing for some variation across cultures, re­ lates the efforts of a strange traveler to obtain a meal from suspicious townspeople. Upon his approach they hide local provisions and plead the inadequacy of available means even to satisfy their own needs. His proposal for stone soup, however, piques both curiosity and interest: here is a recipe worth knowing. To stones and water, reluctant onlookers are encouraged to add salt and pepper, barley, cabbages, potatoes, beans, carrots, and meat to the essential broth. Thus the stranger satisfies his hunger and participants gain a sense of community. There remain, alas, grave imperfections in international application. By no means are the suspicions and reluctance of governments so readily overcome. 25

See, e.g., "The Harmonization of Multilateral and Bilateral Aid," UC, 13 (November 1967), pp. 423-28.

7. RESPONSES BY ACTORS

TODAY'S actors are exposed to moves by other actors1—in­ cluding executive managers—and to impulses from un­ identified sources ("chance"). Unesco and other intergov­ ernmental institutions multiply the sources of stimuli that affect makers of foreign policy. It is neither hard to con­ ceive of the susceptibility of modern nation-states nor dar­ ing to predict that those affected will answer the day's chal­ lenge. The question of how actors reply is more difficult. Challenge provokes response, but what response?2 Our objective is a limited one.3 In this study we have 1

For example, regard the concepts central to the following: John H. Herz, International Politics in the Atomic Age (New York: Columbia University Press, 1959), especially chapter 6; Andrew M. Scott, The Revolution in Statecraft: Informal Penetration (New York: Random House, 1965); Richard N. Cooper, The Economics of Interdependence (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968); James N. Rosenau, ed., Linkage Politics (New York: Free Press, 1969); Robert O. Keohane and Joseph S. Nye, Jr., eds., "Transnational Relations and World Politics," Inter­ national Organization, 25 (Summer 1971); Karl Kaiser, "The Political Aspects of Intervention in Present Day International Politics," Inter­ nationale Spectator, 25 (8 January 1971), pp. 76-88. 2 For an exploration of national responses to challenges of economic affairs, see Cooper, "Economic Interdependence and Foreign Policy in the Seventies," World Politics, 24 (January 1972), pp. 168ff. 3Although the objective is limited, this approach may prove of interest in other contexts. The behavior of participants reveals new facets of nation-states that merit comparative investigation. The organizational engagement of governmental representatives opens windows upon their home polities. Common membership serves to control certain variables by standardizing framework conditions that affect all participants. Comparative politics augments the resources for

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concentrated upon actors engaging in one kind of strategic alternative. Now we are in a position to examine how certain actors have responded to Unesco. First we introduce terms to help us distinguish basic kinds of response. Then we look at concrete cases. Our findings lend support to the hypothesis that external affairs loom ever larger in the in­ ternal processes of political units. But they do not foretell the direction that actors' responses are bound to take. PATTERNS OF RESPONSE Let us picture first a polity that continues to respond to challenges in the manner in which it responded to the orig­ inal call to engagement. That initial act necessitated formal ratification of a multilateral treaty. It required acceptance of obligations to support the organization financially ac­ cording to an assessed share. The commitment also entailed obligations to refrain from certain actions and to cooperate in others, to establish appropriate domestic agencies for re­ lations with the intergovernmental organization, to send delegates to plenary assemblies and other meetings, and to report periodically upon local laws, regulations, and prac­ tices concerning matters within the scope of the founding treaty. This polity, we assume, perseveres in its original pattern of response to successive challenges from institu­ tional citizenship. However, its post-membership responses instead may deviate from the polity's initial response. An actor may dis­ engage from membership. Actions may change in less ob­ vious ways: financial assessments can be augmented, or they can be withheld for short periods without jeopardizing the legal right to participate; acts beyond the letter of the orig­ inal contract can be undertaken, or potential acts of coop­ eration avoided; domestic servicing agencies can grow or studying international relations. Penetrating inquiry into intergovern­ mental institutions, in turn, makes new phenomena accessible for the comparative study of polities.

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atrophy; national reports can become more illuminating, more obfuscating, tardy, or lacking altogether; official agents can become more (or less) assiduous within plenary assem­ bly, council, and staff. The polity may respond differently to institutional outcomes in the form of conventions, recom­ mendations, resolutions, and to the challenges of multilater­ al decision-making that these initiatives presented before their adoption. Expectations, too, may change. Let us try to depict a polity's responses more precisely. National subsystem, refers to all nationals who act with re­ gard to an intergovernmental organization.4 National sub­ systems (or national systemic sectors) encompass national leaders, subleaders, and attentive publics both at home and within the international organization in question. Each na­ tional systemic sector (or subsystem) is directed toward a substantive area of the global system identified with an in­ tergovernmental organization. Figure 7.1 illustrates these notions. In this diagram, actors A and B are engaged in in­ tergovernmental organizations X and Y, and with each other. The series of arcs that front upon the actors represent national systemic sectors. Dotted lines connote international substantive areas. To be realistic, these substantive areas would have to be infinitely more complex than our sketch allows. National subsystems, we propose, can react to a series of stimuli by either closing or opening, or they may continue to respond as they responded to the original challenge of engaging. Subsystems either persevere, close, or open fur­ ther in their sensitivity to developments abroad and in their receptivity to information emanating beyond the nation and its sensors. A closing subsystem operates on the principle of minimizing risks; an opening subsystem follows that of maximizing opportunities. A closed national subsystem marks the polity that has not engaged in intergovernmental organization; a closing sub­ system characterizes that in process of disengaging. The 4

Cf. Cox and Jacobson, pp. 17-18.

160

SUBSTANTIVE AREA X

ACTOR

ACTOR

SUBSTANTIVE AREA Y

IGO

FIGURE 7.1. National Systemic Sectors and International Substantive Areas.

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closing subsystem, or government directing it, restricts fi­ nancing, reporting, and other burdens of membership. Such a subsystem is prone to come up with unilateral and bilateral strategies in response to challenges. It increasingly ignores multilateral norms to which the polity once acceded, and now undertakes acts it once joined in outlawing, when they are expedient. Domestic agencies created to serve a national system's relations with an intergovernmental organization wither through reductions in staff and appropriations. The personnel who man a closing subsystem are fastidiously re­ cruited, obsessively instructed, anxiously overseen. Public understanding of organized international activities will diminish, since the tacit intention in coping with the polity's exposure is to avoid rather than to achieve. The interna­ tional organization "itself' will seem increasingly distant or remote. If closure should occur among many nation-states' sub­ systems facing a single intergovernmental organization, the general conception of this institution's remoteness may be­ come self-fulfilling: it will come to operate, not merely seem to operate, in a precious milieu all its own. No institution can work effectively under such conditions. And this, to some extent, appears to be the pattern of many nation-state members in Unesco. For its part, the lone nation-state with subsystems closed toward many facets of international life may develop a variety of political autism despite the stimuli of international affairs, and indeed, despite any ventures it may engage in unilaterally. The foreign "environment" then can yield images of a fantasy world. And foreign policy may become chiefly a practice of stroking the home constituency. On the other hand, an opening national subsystem char­ acterizes the polity that is upgrading engagement in an in­ tergovernmental organization. Just as a decision to join encourages the opening of a national subsystem, subsequent choices to maximize opportunities open this subsystem fur­ ther. Such a polity responds with alacrity to international

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challenges, and does so by appropriate strategies. Standard obligations are met by reporting periodically and by pay­ ing the national assessment on time. However, a govern­ ment may go beyond its financial commitment either to entrust supplementary funds for organization-sanctioned projects or (a practice no doubt commoner) to seek ex­ traordinary organizational support for local projects. Thus under promising conditions it may contribute to, or invite, multilateral penetration. Domestic servicing agencies flour­ ish within an opening national subsystem. Ambitious young foreign service officers strive for early tours of duty on the frontier of an intergovernmental institution. Public under­ standing of organizational activities grows; evidence may accumulate that this institution is considered to be "ours." CONSTANCY OF INITIAL RESPONSE The single most powerful predictor of responses by a nation-state to challenges of intergovernmental organization membership, we maintain, is the pattern evinced when it first becomes a member. An initial problem "solved" be­ queaths standard operating procedure. Whether because of a dominating interpretation of how success was achieved the first time, muscle-bound bureaucracy, or vested interests in established ways, the prototypical response gives way to successive typical responses. To the predilection toward the conditioned reflex is added a government's reasoning from axioms founded upon unquestioned premises. Moreover, information about alternative policies costs more than a decision-maker is apt to consider expendable. The superior statesman, like the superior chess-player, is thought to be one who knows where to search, not one who sets out to survey all possibilities or to seek exotic ones. The pattern that becomes habitual remains constant, barring reassess­ ment. And reassessment may very well not occur. Our initial construct fits most often. If it is broadly applicable, this construct should fit cases

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in which early "success" from engaging came through multi­ lateral means and those in which it came through unilateral means. The governments of newer states do tend to find in universal intergovernmental organizations their strategic metier. True, some retain active bilateral ties to former colonizers or to other major polities, and many engage in particularist arrangements that involve a restricted number of participants. But virtually all Asian and African govern­ ments continue to respond vigorously to challenges from wider circles, as if to relive the initiation which in United Nations arenas confirmed the integrity of national statehood and the legitimacy of their leadership. The inclination to­ ward multilateral engagement remains strong. On the other hand, polities with proud foreign policy tra­ ditions that antedate organized universalism, especially those that cherish Great Power status, tend to engage in such organizations only with mental reservations that severely limit their commitment to participate. Here, too, a means that once seemed to work continues to dominate the pattern of response. Of course, actual responses do not collapse into analytical categories. No challenge is identically seen by all those challenged. Polities and their representatives do not carry into organizational membership the same expectations, as we have witnessed in some detail in earlier chapters. These expectations tend to endure, shaping the response to suc­ cessive challenges. The Unesco priorities of member gov­ ernments whose representatives were interviewed in 1969 show remarkable continuity with official preferences evi­ dent earlier.5 Participants' perceptions suggest how institu5 Nineteen of 21 interviews indicated a clear continuation; the remaining 2, which pointed to more general priorities, did not exclude constancy of preference. Those interviewed were asked "Which par­ ticular parts of the current Unesco programme should have the highest priority, in the judgment of your government?" The author compared the answers with public positions assumed at or near the time individ­ ual states became members. Besides a caveat on number in a "sample"

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tional programs remain diffuse instead of concentrating. Asked whicli Unesco decision their governments regarded most important between December 1966 and August 1969, 21 representatives proposed 9 distinct choices. ORGANIZATIONAL INDICATIONS OF ALTERED RESPONSE Given our conclusion about continuity, we should antici­ pate marginal alterations more often than turnabouts. But if durability of response characterizes most instances, devia­ tion from an original response becomes all the more inter­ esting. How can such deviations be observed? Strategic choices—those leading to membership or to its cessation—often are dramatic acts. Tactics inside intergov­ ernmental organizations offer less visible indications of en­ gaging or disengaging. However, member polities' use of various arenas within a single institution suggests a clue to tactical change. We sharpen a proposition advanced in chapter 1: those members who participate only in plenaries are less fully engaged (or more fully disengaged) than those who participate also through the executive council; those who participate through the secretariat are more fully engaged yet. Council composition and secretariat nationalities can for Unesco, and for other intergovernmental organizations, be viewed as testimony of greater engagement by certain mem­ ber nation-states and of lesser engagement by others. Ex­ ecutive Board position stands as the clearer case. Govern­ ments as well as individual nominees commit resources and jockey for election to one of the available seats. If successful, the Board member utilizes improved access to promote govthat could rightly claim adequacy only in the event it included all participants, another qualification is that representatives frequently indicated several diverse priorities as "highest" alongside their original choice. This latter phenomenon we comment upon in Chapter 8. See Appendix for details of this survey.

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ernmental and personal preferences. Executive Board seats are limited and contested, with the exceptions noted earlier. Their attainment marks both the exercise of influence and the promise of further influence. Board status is perhaps the only finite resource uniformly sought by Unesco member governments. Continuities of Executive Board tenure highlight Great Power participation, but they also present some surprises. The following nationalities have occupied Board seats 75 percent or more of the time during the course of their Unesco membership: Brazil, Cameroon, France, Federal Republic of Germany, India, Japan, Mali, Nigeria, Pakistan, Turkey, U.S.S.R., U.A.R., U.K., and U.S. Scholars have taught us that the international organiza­ tion staff is and should be a politically neutral administra­ tive instrument. We quickly see politics in assemblies and councils, but not so much in secretariats. Belief in political eunuchs at high international levels dies hard within cer­ tain quarters—notably in those whence most early secre­ tariat officials of exalted rank were drawn. Expectations of a nonpolitical secretariat undoubtedly aid acceptance of organizations that are fragile enough under the best of cir­ cumstances. And unobtrusive politics, as we contended above, remains a vital modus operandi if the secretariat and the institution it personifies continue to operate more ac­ tively than did the League of Nations during the 1930s. Furthermore, plans for improving multilateral secretariats cannot neglect professional competence, even though com­ petence demands reformulation in terms less culture-bound than has been customary. These considerations notwith­ standing, we go wrong, in analysis and in prescription, to insist that secretariats serve only as the passive tools of others' politics. Individuals renounce neither nationality nor political acculturation upon becoming international civil servants. The best grow beyond these particularities without abandoning them. Our study shows that member governments prize secre-

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313

tariat posts, especially those in the upper reaches of the staff. The French, for instance, shift their arguments about paramountcy from the Executive Board to the DirectorshipGeneral when a Torres Bodet or Maheu is the incumbent. The nationality of secretariat incumbents thus serves as an­ other index of nations' engaging. However, two qualifica­ tions are necessary. First, secretariat positions are not equiv­ alent to each other in the manner of Executive Board seats. The fact of hierarchy might tempt other investigators to assign numerical weights according to their judgments of relative values. Moreover, governmental participants crave different staff positions. Thus some seek placement of their nationals in a specific substantive department, others in financial or personnel offices. Second, a secretariat official's nationality is not a sufficient indication of the extent to which the governments of other nations work with him. Board members work primarily for their own nation-states, despite the historic injunctions of professional representa­ tion, Conference representation, and the caucusing that re­ duces the number of candidacies in the interest of "region­ al" representation. Secretariat officials, to the contrary, serve various national members who seek their help. Beyond these qualifications, however, the nationality of top secre­ tariat posts does contribute to our understanding of how participants engage in Unesco, and how if at all responses to the challenges of staff openings have shifted over the years. Table 7.1 suggests the pattern in Unesco. A supplementary method for gauging tactical deployment is that of interviewing governmental representatives to ask how they participate. This approach can fortify our confi­ dence in using documentary data. Again we assume that engaging occurs in degrees following our proposition's scalarity of plenary < council < staff. Representatives of 21 Unesco member states were asked which of several alterna­ tive ways their governments relied most upon in achieving what they want and avoiding what they do not want. (See Appendix.) All save one major representative mentioned

TABLE 7.1

Unesco Secretariat Nationality Director-General, Deputy Director-General, and Assistant Director-General Levels, 1946-1970 A D-G (1947-1964)

A D-G (1964-1970)

United States (Walter H. C. Laves) 1947-1950

France (Jean Thomas) 1947-1960

Soviet Union (Alexei Matveyev) 1964-1969

Mexico (Jaime Torres Bodet) 1948-1952

United States (John Taylor) 1951-1952

New Zealand (Clarence E. Beeby) 1948-1949

Morocco (Mahdi Elmandjra) 1966-1970

United States -Acting(John Taylor) 1952-1953

France (Rene Maheu) 1959-1961

France (Pierre Auger) 1950-1959

Norway (Tor Gjesdal) 1966-1970

United States (Luther Evans) 1953-1958

India (Malcolm Adiseshiah) 1963-1970

France (Rene Maheu) 1954-1959

Brazil (Carlos Octavio Flexa-Ribeiro) 1967-

Italy (Vittorino Veronese) 1958-1961

United States (John Fobes) 1971-

India (Malcolm Adiseshiah) 1955-1963

United Arab Republic (Hanna Saba) 1967-

United States (Alvin Roseman) 1960-1963

Italy (Adriano BuzzatiTraverso) 1969-

Soviet Union (Pavel Erchov) 1961-1964

Great Britain (Richard Hoggart) 1970-

D-G

D D-G

Great Britain (Julian Huxley) 1946-1948

France (Rene Maheu) 1961-

Soviet Union Colombia (Gabriel Betancur- (Vladimir Erofeyev) 1970Mejia) 1963-1966 United States (John Fobes) 1964-1970

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

315

the General Conference; all with Executive Board repre­ sentatives included this means, though only one without such representation noted it; and all, with the exception of one man who expressed his frustration in trying to achieve it, emphasized year-round collaboration with the secre­ tariat and its leaders. Several governmental representatives remarked that they worked also through fellow nationals serving as Unesco experts in the field. Paradoxically, these replies extend our findings by virtue of their somewhat un­ representative quality. For all members interviewed main­ tain permanent national offices at or near Unesco House. Thus permanent headquarters representation itself might be thought a strong indication of engaging.® THE ATTENTIVENESS OF NATIONAL PUBLICS National subsystems consist of roles other than those of plenary delegates, council representatives, staff officials, field experts, and permanent national delegates at headquar­ ters. They extend, indeed, beyond executive and legislative agents in the home capital who instruct or in other ways communicate with nationals directly associated with inter­ governmental institutions. Alterations in the response pat­ tern of a member polity are apt to be reflected in the be­ havior of attentive national publics. If we could discern the status of their interest in the workings of an intergovern­ mental organization, we might better recognize whether we were watching an opening subsystem or a closing one. The student bent on investigating subsystem participation by interested groups can focus upon National Commissions, those quasi-private though publicly-created bodies pre6 For an examination of the effect of intergovernmental organ­ ization service on the attitudes of permanent representatives, and the influence of permanent representatives on the foreign policies of their home governments, see Richard Peck, "The Impact of International Organizations on National Foreign Policies Through the Socialization of Permanent Representatives," Ph.D. diss, in progress, Yale Univer­ sity.

316

MODES OF ENGAGING

scribed by the Unesco Constitution. An aim of Unesco founders was to bring national communities and individual citizens into direct contact with Unesco through National Commissions' advisory, liaison, and representative activities. Virtually all member states report the existence of National Commissions; as evidence, governments cite a formal char­ ter, outline a structure, and list officers. National Commis­ sion members are drawn from many voluntary associations and from varied professional sectors of a nation's life. How­ ever, each "is naturally conditioned by the traditions, prac­ tices and ideals of its national society and there are wide differences of organizational pattern and ways of action," according to a Unesco document addressing their role in evaluating and executing program.7 National Commissions can become resonators of Unesco, as Prem Kirpal of India emphasized when presenting this report at the 1966 General Conference. At the same time, Unesco serves as a medium through which some local groups represented on National Commissions pursue their interests. Clearly, the impact of National Commissions varies enormously among member nation-states, and probably it differs in any one of them over time. Our impressions, based on interviews, browsing in documents about National Commissions, and observation at Unesco headquarters, suggest that National Commissions continue actively in France, Cuba, and Morocco; that they have become increasingly active in Scandinavia, India (especially with the East-West major project), Japan, Italy, Rumania and other East European political systems, Swit­ zerland, and Austria; and that they are less active than before in Brazil,8 the U.S., and the U.K. In many other states they have never constituted much more than paper associations. These remain mere impressions. Closer study of National Commissions is needed. A few observations on 7

Unesco doc. 14C/77. For a view of Brazilian activism in Unesco up to 1964—the point at which closure can be observed—see Sathyamurthy, pp. 17078 et seq. 8

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

317

one case make clearer what the student of comparative politics might anticipate.9 Uses of the French National Commission are investigated within a study by William R. Pendergast. Pendergast finds this National Commission an important adjunct to French policies of tutelle whereby administrative structures are decentralized and social groups are integrated into govern­ ing processes. Those brilliant French spokesmen so visible at Unesco functions are co-optees in a broader design. The French government uses its National Commission to "in­ corporate restive intellectuals." Exceptional elan, range of program, and public participation characterize Commission activities in Paris, in the provinces, and beyond the terri­ torial domain of France.10 Another index to the status of attentive publics is reader­ ship of the Unesco Courier, a pictorial "window open on the world" that features the institution's activities and in­ cludes selected topics of related interest. Purchase of other Unesco publications indicates interest in special substantive matters; for instance the sales of Study Abroad suggest mobile people prepared to follow opportunities on their own initiative. Unfortunately, we have data only for 1968, and these are not broken down to nation-states. They do, nonetheless, suggest a sizable readership in Europe and greater attentiveness to Unesco activities in Latin America than in North America. Let us use available aids to look more specifically at the United Kingdom and the United States as their national subsystems close toward Unesco. We need a measure that is sensitive to the opinion of national publics and applicable over the years. The press, especially the so-called elite press, 9 For another set of observations, cf. Laves and Thomson, pp. 31527. See also John Leo Cefkin, "A Study of the United States National Commission for UNESCO," Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1954, which examines the 1946-1952 period. 10 "French Policy in UNESCO," Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1971. The quotation is from p. 310.

318

MODES OF ENGAGING

TABLE 7.2

International Social Science Journal

Study Abroad

Apartheid: Its Effects . . .

Source Book foi Science Teachii

Geological Map of Africa

(sales to date) Europe (incl. all of U.S.S.R.) North America Latin America Asia Africa Oceania

Unesco Courier

Sales of Unesco Publications by Region, 1968

(310,000)

(3,650)

(10,000)

(10,200)

(456,000)

(2,500)

80¾ 5 8 2 3 2

44¾ 42 3 6 4 1

31% 56 2 8 1 2

22¾ 48

24¾ 54 3 8 8 3

35¾ 57

—

1 26 3

—

3 5 —

Note: Figures for the two periodicals (Unesco Courier and ISS]) are for one 1968 issue only. Figures for publications are cumulative through sales for 1968. Source: Unesco, Report of the Director-General, 1968 (Paris: Unesco, 1969), p. 162,

furnishes one such indicator. Not everyone in America or Britain reads the New York Times or The Times of London, but each paper enjoys a substantial followership. Along with its slogan on comprehensive newsworthiness ("All the news that's fit to print"), the New York Times sometimes advertises that it, more than any other press source, reports United Nations happenings. Objective evidence tends to verify that it does carry more international news than other U.S. newspapers.11 The Times, long renowned for its edi11 Though it leaves out such worthy contenders as the Christian Science Monitor, the table on p. 117 of Bernard C. Cohen's The Press and Foreign Policy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963) gives some credence to this expectation. Here it is shown by several measures that the New York Times outstripped the Milwaukee Jour­ nal and the Chicago Tribune in foreign coverage during a selected week in April 1960.

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

319

torial thunder in the ears of governments, retains its repu­ tation for succinct and extensive coverage. We would, then, expect to find national attention to Unesco and other inter­ governmental organizations mirrored in these two news­ papers. We might indeed hope to find more. The press and other media actually may prove independent variables rather than mere proxies of the tendencies of national subsystems. Such a question lies beyond the scope of the present study. An­ ticipating inquiry on this problem, however, Bernard Cohens finding enhances the potential value of Figure 7.2 for understanding engagement in Unesco: . . . if we do not see a story in the newspapers (or catch it on radio or television), it effectively has not happened so far as we are concerned. . . . [The press] may not be successful much of the time in telling people what to think, but it is stunningly successful in telling its readers what to think about. . . . The editor may believe he is only printing the things that people want to read, but he is thereby putting a claim on their attention, powerfully determining what they will be thinking about, and talk­ ing about, until the next wave laps their shore.12 From Figure 7.2 we can arrive at several tentative con­ clusions. First, much less about Unesco and Unesco activi­ ties was available to attentive readers of both newspapers toward the end of this period than near the beginning. The drop in coverage of Unesco, as distinguished from crossreferences to the organization within articles about other matters, is especially marked in the New York Times. Sec­ ond, choice-makers for both newspapers tend to wield cri­ teria of newsworthiness in favor of the years of Unesco General Conferences. When in 1952 plenary meetings stopped occurring annually, coverage too tended to dimin­ ish during odd years. Third, Senator Joseph McCarthy (and comparable inquisitors) produced an upsurge in Unesco 12 Cohen,

p. 13.

FIGURE 7.2. Items on Unesco in New York Times and The Times (London), 1946-1969.

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

321

events deemed fit for the New York Times, especially in 1952. In accordance with Cohen's thesis, these stories pro­ vided topical stimuli to thinking and talking. Finally, and most significant, neither paper has ever given Unesco much coverage. The British downturn in interest in Unesco has been gentler, insofar as relative number of news items suffices to tell this tale. Although The Times approaches a status of national readership beyond that of its transatlantic name­ sake, it cannot be said to represent fully the British interface with Unesco. Even within the British press world The Times hardly sets a pace for all. More stories on Unesco have prob­ ably appeared in the Beaverbrook Press over the years. Their tone is perhaps adequately conveyed by a London interviewee's report that Lord Beaverbrook posted a stand­ ing staff directive licensing Unesco and the British Council as fair game for his writers. The Guardian of Manchester and The Observer of London run occasional longer articles. Guardian commentators join fair-mindedness to keen and timely criticism. But here too there are limits to the editor's willingness to report events that Unescans might think newsworthy. A Guardian dispatch from the 1950 General Conference concludes our use of press data on national sub­ system responses: "Sir John [Maud, British Permanent Sec­ retary of Education and an early leader of the Unesco Ex­ ecutive Board] believes in Unesco, but neither he nor anyone else has been able to account for the pigeon-holes of twoscore accredited journalists in the press-room being still crammed on the last day with uncalled-for communiques and reports. Can so many journalists be mistaken?"13 Survey data enable us to add corroborating evidence on the U.S. subsystem from samples of the American public. Two National Opinion Research Center (NORC) reports of 1947, Where UNESCO Begins and UNESCO and Public 13 "Unesco

Campaigns to Save German Youth," 19 June 1950.

322

MODES OF ENGAGING

Opinion Today ,14 reveal perhaps as much in their concep­

tions and applications as in their findings. Each report probes popular opinions concerning the appropriate purpose of potential international programs which in fact bear only a vague relationship to Unesco. Neither gets much nearer Unesco as such than the report's title. "For the opinion ex­ pressed to be most meaningful," states the former report without any evident sense of irony, "the people should have access to information on which to base their opinions." Part in of Where UNESCO Begins, on specific areas of inter­ national cooperation, opens as follows: The success of the UNESCO program will depend in large part upon the acceptance of specific phases of the program by people in the various countries of the world. Of real significance to UNESCO, therefore, is the degree of willingness evidenced in the United States and other nations to approve action in specific instances of inter­ national cooperation. Selected for analysis are popular attitudes related to four particular problem areas: (1) relief for starving peoples, (2) trade reciprocity, (3) im­ migration, and (4) the disposition of colonial possessions and mandates. References to universal intergovernmental organization cease with such disputable orientations. Part iv, entitled "Mass Communications: Their Potentialities for UNESCO," reports attitudes germane to U.S. official objectives. Once again the survey proceeds without citing multilateral aus­ pices for the panelist's consideration. The NORC interpre­ tation of data from a July 1946 Fortune study focuses not upon multilateral means at all, but rather upon people's greater willingness to countenance "explaining our point of view" than broadcasting "propaganda" abroad. l i Where UNESCO Begins (Denver: University of Denver, 1947), Report No. 34; UNESCO and Public Opinion Today (Chicago: Uni­ versity of Chicago, 1947), Report No. 35.

323

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

Questions more pertinent to early openness of the U.S. subsystem toward Unesco were put under contract by the Educational Policies Commission to a NORC sample in the spring of 1945. This survey followed a period including the London Conference of Allied Ministers of Education (CAME) and V-E Day, but it occurred before V-J Day and the London constitutional convention. It has been suggested that the nations of the world set up a world agency that would help schools in all countries teach children how to understand the people of other countries. Would you like to see an agency like this set up, or not? Would like

84%

Would not like

10%

Undecided

6%

If such an agency were set up, would you be willing to have it examine the school books used in this city (county) to see if they are fair to all nations? Yes, willing 87%

Not willing 7%

Undecided

6%

(If "Yes"): Suppose the men in this agency decide that the school books used in this city (county) give an unfair picture of the history of Germany. Would you be willing to have the books changed, or not? Yes, willing

72%

Not willing

9%

Undecided

6%

(total 87%) However, NORC's December 1944 survey showed consid­ erable reserve toward a world organization deciding "what things can be taught in the schools of all countries in the world," with 27 percent expressing favor, 65 percent main­ taining that each country should decide, and 8 percent registering "don't know." In the spring of 1947, potential U.S. public commitment remained relatively high toward international funding of selected activities to be undertaken through the pollster s uncertain strategic structures:

324

MODES OF ENGAGING

It has been suggested that each country in the United Nations put up some money to do the things on this card [containing the five proposals which follow]. Do you think the United States should put up money to do any of these things? Are there any of these things that you think we should NOT put up money for?

To help pay for a United Nations broadcasting station that would send radio programs to all countries telling the peo­ ple what's going on in the world.

Should

Should not

Undecided

66%

24%

10%

25%

10%

To help rebuild schools and colleges destroyed in war. To look over the school books used in all coun­ tries to see that they don't build up misunder­ standings among coun­ tries.

63%

25%

12%

To send teachers and workers to foreign coun­ tries on an exchange arrangement in which other countries would send their teachers and workers here.

60%

30%

10%

To help countries ex­ change with each other such things as books, magazines, art and museum exhibits.

56%

27%

17%

Of the 81 percent who approved of putting up money for two or more of these projects, NORC asked whether "the

325

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

United States should help the United Nations do this, even if it meant our government couldn't lower the income taxes people are now paying?" Their replies: Yes

61%

No

14%

Undecided

6%

(total 81 percent)

In formulating questions that cued respondents toward ambiguous means of international action, or toward none at all, these survey reports stand as fairly representative of media within the U.S. NORC queries of April 1953 and August 195515 indicated that 70 percent of those polled had neither heard nor read anything about Unesco as such. Of the 30 percent in each survey who did claim such acquaint­ ance, 44 percent (or 13 percent of the total) were classed by NORC as not understanding the organization's "main purpose," and 7 percent more (or 2 percent of the total) offered answers counted as incorrect. A somewhat greater percentage of the remainder gave NORC its correct answer in 1955 than in 1953. In the earlier poll, a year prior to Soviet membership, more respondents wrongly identified Unesco with such purposes as promoting peace, understand­ ing, and unity, or providing relief, rehabilitation, and eco­ nomic or technical aid to backward peoples. By 1955, more scored by citing NORC's "main purpose" of promoting edu­ cation, scientific and cultural activities. American survey data on Unesco after 1955 apparently do not exist. Our prior investigation suggests that the U.S. national subsystem began closing connections with Unesco when American attempts to mount a Unesco mass communica­ tions information campaign to Eastern Europe failed to win approval by other institutional participants. Subsequent at­ tention to national loyalty questions in this and other UN organizational units, attention activated by domestic polit­ ical figures but amplified by American media, further dis­ couraged U.S. officials from identifying themselves with Unesco before their constituents. From Figure 7.2 (above) 15

NORC surveys 339 and 374.

326

MODES OF ENGAGING

and available survey data it is not difficult to fathom how "McCarthyism"—an overpersonalized name for the malaise of this political system during the 1950s—affected a public that lacked the background necessary for understanding is­ sues of international life. The Vietnam engagement symptomized a hollowing American self-confidence prone to bravado; at the same time, it reinforced habits of limiting multilateral liabilities.16 During the 1960s, several books argued that cultural relations was a major but neglected aspect of United States foreign policy.17 A preference for unilateralism persevered into the 1970s across many sub­ systems of American foreign relations. THE DISENGAGEMENT OF SOUTH AFRICA One government disengaged from Unesco membership, not to have returned at this writing. During the London conference of 1945, delegates from the Union of South Africa, along with those from Greece, sought unsuccessfully to delete two paragraphs from the draft preamble because 16Lyndon Baines Johnson: "As I said in 1956, we did not ask to be the guardians at the gate, but there was no one else. There was no question in my mind that the vacuum created by our abdication would be filled inevitably by the Communist powers." The Vantage Point, quoted by Lincoln P. Bloomfield, "Foreign Policy for Disillusioned Liberals," Foreign Policy, 9 (Winter 1972-1973), p. 58. For a re­ port on the successful campaign to lower the U.S. assessment to 25 percent of the UN total, see Robert Alden, "It's Not the Money, It's the Principle," NYT, 3 December 1972. 17 E.g., Charles A. Thomson and Walter H. C. Laves, Cultural Relations and U.S. Foreign Policy (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1963); Philip H. Coombs, The Fourth Dimension of Foreign Policy (New York: Harper & Row, 1964); Charles Frankel, The Neglected Aspect of Foreign Affairs (Washington: Brookings, 1965); Paul J. Braisted, ed., Cultural Affairs and Foreign Relations (Wash­ ington: Columbia Books, 1968). On the U.S. style in Unesco during this and the earlier period, see Thomas A. Brindley, "American Goals in the Educational Policy of UNESCO, 1946-1964," Ph.D. diss., Uni­ versity of Michigan, 1968.

RESPONSES BY ACTOHS

327

of what was termed their negative character. Although the leadership of Jan Smuts brought South Africa into Unesco in 1946, government spokesmen remained minimally active in Paris and became increasingly critical of Unesco pro­ grams that promoted human rights and investigated the implications of race-oriented domestic policies. In 1948, Dr. D. F. Malan, founder of the Purified Nationalist Party and at the time an esteemed figure among the Afrikaners, was elected Prime Minister. Malan denied that South Affrica was isolationist. His government accepted membership in the UN despite that organization's shortcomings, as he told a nationwide radio audience, "on the unequivocal understanding that there was to be neither external inter­ ference in our domestic affairs nor any tampering with our autonomous rights." The Nationalists won a more substan­ tial election victory in 1953. Malan, however, came under ever heavier fire from dissidents of his own party. To Par­ liament the Prime Minister acknowledged his concern over foreign influences including India, Communism, and African nationalist movements in the Gold Coast and elsewhere. Perhaps these concerns, for which the neighboring Brit­ ish-devised Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland in 1953 seemed one promising antidote, led Malan to his proposal for an African charter. This particularist arrangement would engage the British and governments representing other peoples of Christian European stock in an agreement to prevent arms transfers to native Africans ("Bantus") and to preserve the continent from external penetration, thereby keeping restive indigenous peoples under European tute­ lage. Yet Malan was unwilling or unable to follow this plan with a formal move toward the British. At home his design was viewed suspiciously by an ascending Afrikaner popula­ tion long antipathetic to Britain and currently in process of excluding local English-speaking persons from positions of eminence. In 1954, Malan answered a parliamentary question about withdrawing from UN organizational units by acknowledging that his government had considered this

328

MODES OF ENGAGING

for reasons of economy but had changed its mind. Malan s specific variety of apartheid, emphasizing segregated forms of economic and social life and limitations on political par­ ticipation and movement by Africans, produced increased opposition by enfranchised citizens who wanted yet more severe territorial isolation of the Bantus or "separate home­ lands," as it was put, for all peoples of South Africa. Some South Africans thought that the disunity exhibited to the world at large was responsible for their problems at home. Malan drew cheers when he said that South Africa should leave Unesco if it continued to interfere in the Union s in­ ternal affairs. After a bitter intra-party dispute the same year, Malan yielded to J. G. Strijdom in an ouster reportedly engineered by Hendrik Verwoerd. Some months later the Strijdom government announced termination of participa­ tion in Unesco effective 31 December 1956, in legal con­ sonance with a procedure that had been written into the organization's constitution at the founding. The Minister of External Affairs, Eric Louw, stated his intention to recom­ mend that money saved by withdrawal be used to dissemi­ nate vinilaterally the facts about South Africa. CONDITIONS OF REVERSAL The case of South Africa substantiates a proposition that turning-points in a polity's engagement can occur under circumstances short of international cataclysm. Here critical domestic events operated in tandem with perceptions of foreign threats to cause revaluation—though it must be re­ called that disengagement was mooted at the time South Africa joined Unesco. We may estimate more generally that reassessment is likely to arise from combinations of trouble at home and embarrassing setback abroad. It might be stimulated by the misfortune or the quest for fortune of a single political activist. Mediators of the volte-face in en­ gagement include domestic oppositions, by no means "legit-

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

329

imate" oppositions only. International allies, organizational caucusing partners, and executive managers of intergovern­ mental institutions may also contribute to turnabouts in the manner a polity faces the challenges of life in an inter­ governmental organization. Reversals stem from political moments of truth. For better or worse, the direction following from political decisions is not fully explicable in advance of actual events. Condi­ tioned choice is the essence of politics; the indeterminacy of such choices is what most profoundly distinguishes the study of politics from other social sciences. This contention becomes more persuasive if it is found that national reassess­ ment sometimes leads to more vigorous participation and opens a polity's subsystem toward further challenges from multilateralism. It is hardly to be expected that Unesco participation often serves as the occasion of switches that call attention to themselves by their high drama. Even challenges from the multilateral economic arrangements of our era do not always threaten the tenure of governments, although the examples of Britain and Norway upon the threshold of European Community membership remind us that choices about en­ gaging may produce considerable domestic political impact. Far more frequently, important choices elude all but pene­ trating scholars because of the absence of a great debate. The Mexican resolve to engage in the Latin American Free Trade Association (LAFTA), for instance, did not become a conspicuous issue. Mexican economic tecnicos, together with the UN Economic Commission for Latin America (ECLA), simply convinced national political leaders that engaging provided a "way out of the impasse into which Mexico seemed to have walked, provided that integration offered larger markets for the very industries which required additional investment. . . . Neither a reflection of increased international transactions nor the product of dire economic necessity, Mexico's decision to join LAFTA was a future-

330

MODES OF ENGAGING

oriented decision by a restricted political and technical elite."18 Nevertheless, Unesco does provide further instances of political leaders and peoples reversing their approach to or­ ganizational participation. Several examples follow. GLIMPSES OF ENGAGEMENT Yugoslav representatives, notably Vladislav Ribnikar, in early years released a barrage of criticism at Unesco and Unesco programs, particularly Huxley's "philosophical es­ peranto." After the Tito government distanced itself from the Soviet Union, however, official Yugoslavia had second thoughts about engaging. As Ribnikar said at the 1950 General Conference, his political system had turned from Unesco to the "popular democracies" in quest of "the prin­ ciple of equality and mutual assistance." Later it reconsid­ ered. Experience taught us that the tendency of large countries to exploit and subjugate small ones is, in some circum­ stances, quite unrelated to the social order established in those countries, and that differing and contradictory "ideological reasons" are only empty words disguising policies which are essentially the same. . . . His govern­ ment now judged that the United Nations and Special­ ized Agencies were the instruments best calculated to bring about, on the basis of equality, co-operation among all peoples.19 Ribnikar himself resigned from the Executive Board when Franco Spain was admitted. And Yugoslav leaders have de18 Philippe C. Schmitter and Ernst B. Haas, Mexico and Latin American Economic Integration (Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, 1964), pp. 16, 17. Cf. Elizabeth A. Finch1 The Politics of Regional Integration: A Study of Uruguay's Decision to Join LAFTA (Liverpool: Centre for Latin-American Studies, 1973). 19 General Conference, Fifth Session, Proceedings, p. 71, quoted by Karp, p. 81.

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

331

voted more resources to service as a multilateral vanguard of the Third World in various economic arenas than in Unesco, perhaps because of cultural vulnerabilities at home. But the earlier change marked an important revaluation, since it came during a time of others' cold-war designs for the organization and helped pave the way toward further heterodoxy among Unesco's participants. It was a riven and suspicious Italy that joined Unesco in 1948. Every incident along the boundary between polity and organization seemed to provoke local animosity. Unesco and FAO ventures to reclaim arid zones failed to give ade­ quate recognition to the immortal work of Celso Ulpiani. An Italian commentator thought Unesco social sciences to be trivialized by their Anglo-Saxon fixation upon a laughable democratic crusade. France's aspirations for cultural ascend­ ancy, manifested through overrepresentation of French ar­ tistic contributions and in exclusion of Italian masters from Unesco's publications, incited a spirited debate about what should be done. Some Italians voiced their unhappiness at the choice of an Italian historian to represent their traditions in writing Unesco's story of mankind. The makeup of Italian General Conference delegations came under fire. Italy's National Commission was criticized for its inactivity. Bene­ detto Croce wrote a trenchant critique pondering, in effect, the paradox of a vast organization built to create freedom. He called for a fine if mortifying institutional death and the distribution of Unesco's mandate to the spontaneous world of liberty. Others thought that Unesco's contribution toward peace would hinge upon Italian ability to destroy the centralization that favored bigger powers. Veronese proposed more regional activities to his Executive Board colleagues, as opinion began to swing toward the necessity of positive measures. An Italian commentator proposed Unesco as an excellent instrument to elevate the status of his nation. More zealous national representatives in Unesco were demanded to safeguard ItaHan interests in the selection

332

MODES OF ENGAGING

of works for the Unesco Catalogue of Coloured Reproduc­ tions. Como had rejected a chance to have an international science facility, but Rome later acquired the interna­ tional computation center authorized by Unesco. Other in­ stitutional concessions were to follow. One Italian inter­ pretation of Torres Bodet's 1952 resignation held that the French-speaking Mexican had become unpopular by allow­ ing France to assume the organizational position of most privileged nation. Veronese's election dissipated most resid­ ual skepticism, and after Veronese's short-lived tenure, Gian Franco Pompei upon the Executive Board led an alert con­ tingent engaged intimately in Unesco choices of interest to Italians. Both Norway and Denmark joined Unesco during 1946. Sweden, however, remained outside until 1950. The ques­ tion of Swedish membership did arouse lively discussion. In 1948, the Swedish Foreign Minister claimed in parlia­ mentary debate that financial considerations and nothing else dictated his government's stance against participation. Press comments both supported and attacked the govern­ ment's posture on this issue: some argued that the money necessary for membership would better be spent for sport; others criticized the government's negativism. From one political quarter came charges that Sweden was being kept out because the Soviet Union did not belong. More general concern was expressed for Swedish neutrality in the context of what was termed the delicate matter of United States dominance. (Finland was to come in only after the Soviets.) A Swedish observer caused a sensation at home with the report that much international good will was lost by his having to act like a wallflower at the Mexico City General Conference. The national press observed that Sweden was the only significant country of Western Europe that was not a full participant; even Switzerland had joined by 1949. When Sweden first engaged it was with considerable of­ ficial timidity. However, from the beginning the Swedish

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

333

National Commission was active. In 1950, a Malmo seminar on libraries in adult education was greeted by extensive local coverage applauding Unesco's good judgment in hold­ ing Swedish libraries in high esteem. A Swedish film on public libraries was prepared for Unesco distribution. Alva Myrdal's appointment, her husband's presence at ECE in Geneva, and Dag Hammarskjold's later selection and service strengthened Swedish identification with UN institutions just as Trygve Lie's election had earlier cemented Nor­ wegian ties. Scandinavian peoples and their leaders have developed a strong sense of mission through Unesco and other intergov­ ernmental institutions. Norwegians and Swedes participate beyond their assessed shares in programs that bear a Unesco imprimatur without effacing the benefactor's special role, for instance by underwriting Unesco projects devoted to women's education in Africa. The International Develop­ ment Association has received repeated gifts above required subscriptions from the people of Sweden. Some measure of relative generosity to other UN programs is suggested by comparing rank of absolute voluntary contributions to UNDP (which agency in turn underwrites pre-investment projects by other executors such as FAO and Unesco) with rank of absolute assessments required for Unesco member­ ship. Table 7.3 presents these rankings. Even before Stalin's death, the question of Soviet par­ ticipation in the UN specialized agencies was under reassess­ ment in the U.S.S.R. In 1952, the Nineteenth Communist Party Congress heard Stalin's spokesmen call for abandon­ ment of the two-camps thesis in favor of a tri-partisan con­ ception. The Malenkov interregnum brought increased in­ terest in scientific and industrial assistance to low-income societies, in wider trade, and in expansion of international cultural exchange. During 1954, the Soviet Union became a member of Unesco (re-entering ILO and WHO at approx­ imately the same time), bringing with it the Ukrainian

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TABLE 7.3

Rank of Financial Benefactors of UNDP and Unesco Based on Actual Amounts, 1970

Donors to UNDP

Rank

U.S. Sweden Denmark Canada U.K. Federal Republic of Germany Netherlands Norway Japan France

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Assessed participants in Unesco U.S. U.S.S.R. Federal Republic of Germany France U.K. Japan Italy Canada China (Taipei) Ukrainian S.S.R.

Note: Unesco assessments do not include funds-in-trust or other voluntary contributions.

S.S.R., Byelorussian S.S.R., and in short order the returns of Czech, Hungarian, and Polish representatives to an or­ ganization whose roll-keepers, after the withdrawals, had insisted upon retaining their names and obligations as members. Bulgaria and Rumania attained membership in 1956, Albania in 1958. The Socialist states did not become members at the out­ set, according to Polish scholar Wojciech Morawiecki, be­ cause Unesco and certain other specialized agencies "lacked adequate institutional safeguards" and thus might be utilized "as weapons in a struggle against the Socialist sys­ tem under then existing political circumstances."20 After the Russian entrance into Unesco, various Soviet commen­ tators ascribed the switch to a change in the international 20 "Institutional

and Political Conditions of Participation of Socialist States in International Organizations," International Organization, 22 (Spring 1968), p. 502.

RESPONSES BY ACTORS

335

balance of forces. Other states' organizational memberships, increasing independence by Indian and other UN repre­ sentatives during the denouement of Korean hostilities, and the vacuum created by U.S. disaffection from Unesco (among other UN agencies) perhaps contributed to a Soviet sense of enhanced opportunity at reduced risk. Soviet spokesmen at Unesco frequently operate in man­ ners indistinguishable from those of other Great Power representatives. Budgetary stringency—as a control on the nation's assessment or on the institution's program—is for the U.S.S.R. a recurring theme. Soviet spokesmen are thor­ oughly prepared and cautious, if not suspicious, of the au­ tonomy of Unesco secretariat policy-makers. The Soviet Union maintains a well-staffed permanent national dele­ gate's office. Like others, Soviet officials strive to place So­ viet citizens in crucial secretariat openings. Though the U.S.S.R. began its Unesco relationship as a have-not in the "geographic" distribution of secretariat posts, and its spokes­ men reiterate the discrepancy between a high budgetary assessment and a smaller secretariat percentage, Soviet na­ tionals have become increasingly prominent in high-level positions, as Table 7.1 (above) attests. Regarding lower staff levels, Soviet authorities have become increasingly aware of a dilemma: though extended secretariat duty may have its liabilities, the seconding of Soviet citizens for short periods does not sufficiently enable them to comprehend how to get or prevent results regarded as important at home. With upgraded secretariat engagement comes growing confidence in Unesco and in other UN organizational units. Writes Morawiecki: The Socialist states by no means absolutely reject the pos­ sibility that an international organization may enjoy a distinct personality and play a relatively independent role in international relations or maintain a certain degree of power over member states. Their reservations concern rather the mode and degree of its implementation than

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the principle. In general, one may say that an interna­ tional organization must take into account the interests of its members and ensure their ability to influence the activities of the organization.21 Unesco science activities especially have drawn intensi­ fied Soviet participation. One gauge of the opening Soviet subsystem—a subsystem that remains exceedingly circum­ scribed, in the view of a Western observer—is the compari­ son of official figures representing Soviet cultural and sci­ entific exchange policies of 1951 and 1964. TABLE 7.4 Soviet Cultural and Scientific Exchange, 1951 and 1964

1951 1964

Foreign authors visiting U.S.S.R.

Soviet authors abroad

4 319

O 725

Source: S. Romanovsky, "For Peace and Cooperation Between Na­ tions," International Affairs (Moscow), No. 1, 1965, p. 9.

In wartime London, Soviet emissaries voiced grave res­ ervations about CAME designs for an intergovernmental organization which might intrude in domestic affairs. Dur­ ing 1968, the U.S.S.R. played host to a meeting of Unesco experts concerned with the content of general education. At the General Conference of the same year, Soviet spokes­ man Roumiantsev told fellow delegates that the contempo­ rary configuration of international relations assigned Unesco a role of the first rank. It was, he continued, one of the most important and influential of organizations.22 21

Ibid., p. 496. Conference, Fifteenth Session, Proceedings, p. 402. See further John A. Armstrong, "The Soviet Attitude Toward UNESCO," International Organization, 8 (May 1954), pp. 217-33, 22 General

RESPONSES BY ACTOKS

337

Looking back over the history of Unesco, the DirectorGeneral said in 1967 that its two major turning-points oc­ curred with membership of the Soviet Union and member­ ship of the first major wave of newly independent African states. The advent of the People's Republic of China may very well precipitate another institutional change-over. Thus Chinese engagement deserves more attention than we can give it in the present inquiry. Chinese commen­ tators can cite voting trends within the UN General Assem­ bly to buttress the claim that a change in the international balance of forces led to their membership in UN organiza­ tional units. To an outsider, internal reassessment appears to mediate shifting response here no less than elsewhere.23 Today's world is less neat than our constructs and less symmetrical than this array of actors' responses. No doubt the present global system contains nation-states with some on the period before membership; C. O. Osakwe, The Participation of the Soviet Union in Universal International Organizations (Leiden: Sijhoff, 1972); John Lindell, "The U.S.S.R. in UNESCO," Ph.D. diss., New York University, 1972; Andrea Maxine Praeger, "Politics and Literature: The Soviet Union's Adherence to the Universal Copy­ right Convention," Princeton University, senior thesis, April 1974. Among studies of the participation by other nation-states in Unesco: Rajai Abou-Khadra, "UNESCO and the Arab Community," Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1957; Frederick E. Kidder, Latin America and UNESCO (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 1960), treat­ ing the organization's first five years; Sister Marie Leonard Meyer, "A Comparative Study of the Indian Government's Relationships with WHO, Unesco and ECAFE," Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1967; Guy Gosselin, "La participation du Canada a l'Unesco: aspects internes," Ph.D. diss, in progress, I'Universite de Geneve. Both the Laves and Thomson and the Sathyamurthy volumes cited earlier in­ clude thoughtful sections addressing spectra of Unesco members. 23 On the evolution of Chinese attitudes toward and participation in international organizations, see Jerome Alan Cohen and Hungdah Chiu, People's China and International Law, n (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974), pp. 1285ff. See also "At UNESCO General Conference: China's Principled Stand Explained," Peking Review, 17 (8 November 1974), pp. 13-14,

338

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subsystems opening and others closing, intergovernmental organizations with some member polities engaging and others disengaging. This chapter only samples tendencies that a separate investigation might itemize and explain more adequately. In the concluding pages we shall consider whether changing responses by national polities might al­ leviate the problem of ineffectual intergovernmental rela­ tions.

8. TOWARD A MULTILATERAL FUTURE?

WE HAVE dealt at length with only one facet of a worldwide

system of actors. Yet we approached Unesco for illumination of a quite general phenomenon: that of individuals-in-roles engaging in international relations. By this approach we sought to develop both a guiding concept for further use and an improved grasp of the relationships selected for in­ vestigation. We hoped to "see the world in a grain of sand." Now we should like to see what a future world might hold. Let us extend our findings in a fashion conducive to this aim. THE PRESENT SYSTEM Three characteristics mark our present international sys­ tem, and each is illustrated by the foregoing investigation of Unesco. First, the global system contains international actors unprecedented in number and in diversity. Second, these actors engage in international relations across an un­ accustomed range of substantive areas. And third, this func­ tional range of international relations has been organized to an extent unknown in previous times. We shall elaborate these distinguishing characteristics and draw out their im­ plications. 1. Actors. Whether one bases his model upon units that signify individual persons, upon transnational associations (including NGOs), or upon the governments of nationstates, today he confronts a bewildering array of interna­ tional actors. As a practical matter he is not likely to rely

340

MODES OF ENGAGING

very long upon individual human units before he begins to conceive of larger political units. The present inquiry began with the premise that individual behavior offers a useful complication in an analysis of international relations; yet our study demonstrates the tendency to abstract. To designate transnational associations as the funda­ mental units presents other difficulties. The latter-day NGOs of Huxley's fancied framework, and the "multinational" corporations of today's news reports, tempt us to base a global system upon transnational associations. The Yearbook of International Organizations shows how many internation­ al nongovernmental organizations have emerged in recent years. 1956-1957

1970-1971

985

2,296

This same source also lists some 680 business enterprises with affiliates (i.e., subsidiaries and associates) in ten or more states. But a system constructed upon NGO units needs to show that in some important sense they have be­ come more basic, and not merely more numerous or more innovative, than other kinds of political units. Until such a demonstration can cogently be made, private associations are more likely to be brought in as supplementary cases than used as building blocks by the architect of global models.1 1 R.

A. Hall, ed., Yearbook of International Organizations (Brussels: Union of International Associations, 1970-1971), p. 1007. Among the best recent studies of transnational associations are: Robert C. Angell, Peace on the March (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1969); Mira Wilkins, The Emergence of Multinational Enterprise (Cam­ bridge: Harvard University Press, 1970); Jack N. Behrman, National Interests and the Multinational Enterprise (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1970); Robert 0. Keohane and Joseph S. Nye, Jr., eds., "Transnational Relations and World Politics," International Organ­ ization, 25 (Summer 1971); Raymond Vernon, Sovereignty at Bay (New York: Basic Books, 1971); Werner J. Feld, Nongovernmental Forces and World Politics (New York: Praeger, 1972).

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The state long has served as mans chief abstraction for ordering his perceptions of the world. Nation-state units in the study of international relations once seemed to match a certain reality and to economize the work of inquirers quite satisfactorily. Observers offered the names of states as the subjects of action in international relations, and drew diagrams that depicted unified national behavior. But now the world appears to have become so much more compli­ cated that analysis can—or prescription would—not reduce it to nation-states. One scholar asserts that we "must aban­ don the nation-state as the dominant mode and model of political organization; promote the rethinking of basic polit­ ical questions in the perspective of the requirements of a large, complex, and globalized social system; and regard world politics as the foundation for the study of political science."2 It is neither possible nor necessary fully to consider why the nation-state has come under question as the sole unit for conceiving our international system.8 But in passing we can list some of the developments that contribute to wide­ spread reassessment. Domestic opposition to various states' foreign policies has shown the most casual observer that governments do not necessarily reflect their constituents' preferences. Governments cannot prevent their nationals from undertaking international initiatives at variance with official postures. The Westphalian conception of interna­ tional relations as interterritorial state relations has been eroded by successful attempts to traverse space and to ex2 George

Modelski, "The Promise of Geocentric Politics," World Politics, 22 (July 1970), 635. 3 For thoughtful discussions of this tendency, see Arnold Wolfers, "The Actors in International Politics," in Wolfers, Discord and Colla­ boration (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1962), 3-24; Oran R. Young, "The Actors in World Politics," in James N. Rosenau, et al., eds., The Analysis of International Politics (New York: Free Press, 1972), 125-44; Samuel P. Huntington, "Transnational Organizations in World Politics," World Politics, 25 (April 1973), 333-68.

342

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ploit the ocean depths.4 Private groups and individuals breach the monopoly held by states as the subjects of in­ ternational law. We might describe as logically inconsistent a global arrangement that sanctifies nation-state sovereignty yet countenances practices contrary to this principle: spheres of influence, "collective self-defense" alliances, de­ terrence, coercive penetration. To view 150-odd nation-state units as if they were actors equal in significance would impair our comprehension of international relations for most purposes. Even a scheme that graded nation-state units according to analytical pur­ poses could not meet all problems, since some situations im­ plicate nongovernmental actors along with governmental ones. What is it about the global system that sets up note­ worthy parts for nongovernmental (and intergovernmental) actors to play? 2. Substantive range. To date, international systems most often have been defined by criteria of security or, more grandly, by the question of war and peace. Raymond Aron's definition represents this classical tendency: "I call an inter­ national system the ensemble constituted by political units that maintain regular relations with each other and that are capable of being implicated in a generalized war."5 But the world of today creates more substantive concerns than "security" can bear. Contemporary international rela­ tions encompass matters of trade; money; investment; labor; agriculture; energy; air and sea transport; health; human rights; ecology; and the educational, scientific and techno4 On the Westphalian system in transition, see Richard A. Falk, "The Interplay of Westphalia and Charter Conceptions of Interna­ tional Legal Order," in FaIk and Cyril E. Black, eds., The Future of the International Legal Order, ι (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 32-70. 5 Peace and War, translated from the French by Richard Howard and Annette Baker Fox (Garden City: Doubleday, 1966), 94. Em­ phasis removed.

TOWARD A MULTILATERAL FUTURE

343

logical, cultural, and communications questions treated above. Some new substantive areas become salient as gov­ ernments of affluent nations compete for favor among Third World nations to whom development and dignity are of genuine importance. Other issues arise as sensible publics reach consciousness that unbridled technological innova­ tion and population growth6 pose threats to the biosphere and (more precisely) to life in privileged places. An ade­ quate explanation of why the substantive range of interna­ tional relations has broadened so remarkably cries out for further efforts than we are able to report.7 It is tempting to ascribe much of this lushness of international relations to Unesco, the Johnny Appleseed of the intergovernmentalorganization set. An observer s passion for coherent and economical formu­ lation may suggest which problems are relevant for analy­ sis. Thus, studies of "foreign" policy—that is, studies re­ volving around a single familiar nation-state—tend to stress defense or military matters. Conversely, the nature of a problem deemed worthy of analysis may prescribe the proper degree of parsimony to be exercised in selecting rele­ vant actors. Any observer simplifies his version of the inter­ national system to accord with his immediate problem— war and peace, or whatever it may be. In grappling with security problems upon the international level, for example, the analyst may sense that he can sharply delimit his uni­ verse of protagonists without sacrificing too much of his vision of reality. Postwar years greeted elegant models of β On Huxley as progenitor of population limitation policies by intergovernmental organizations, see Richard Symonds and Michael Carder, The United Nations and the Fopulation Question 1945-1970 (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1973), pp. 53-55. Pp. 162-64 follow this issue in Unesco during the 1960s. For a more recent report, see Monique Hecker, "World Population Year: An Interview With the Deputy Director-General," UC, 20 (January 1974), 3-8. 7 The five volumes entitled The Future of the International Legal Order, op. cit., offer an excellent point of departure.

344

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global bipolarity, and the 1970s bring tri-polar variants aug­ mented by Japan and a uniting Europe. However, serious students would feel ill at ease with a five-actor construct for many substantive areas. Indeed, no construct monopolized by nation-state units can frame problems associated with some of the matters listed in the previous paragraph: the actors determining outcomes are not limited to governments and subgovernments. We have maintained that excessive conceptual frugality—a quick fix—would mislead us regard­ ing the international relations of Unesco. Surely this prop­ osition applies also to uncharted areas of the global system. The more actors regard specific substantive areas in inter­ national relations as matters of economic or social policy rather than as matters of "politics," the greater the likelihood that private associations and subgovernmental units will be found to play roles worthy of close examination. 3. Organization. The spread of intergovernmental organi­ zations proceeds, along with the multiplication of actors and the expansion of international relations. More of these organizations exist today than ever before: some 250, ac­ cording to the Yearbook of International Organizations.8 Their member governments range in number from three to over 130. Stated institutional purposes and actual tasks vary enormously. Intergovernmental institutions are widely dispersed. Eu­ rope and North America serve as headquarters for the most organizations, and on these two continents organizational headquarters are scattered among nation-states. Brussels is the home base of several European agencies. Both Geneva and New York accommodate important organs claiming centrality in UN affairs. The United Nations' pres­ ence is extended into the Third World by the resident rep­ resentatives and field operations of many UN organizational units.9 Regional commissions spur the engagement of actors 8 9

The Yearbook staff counted 132 in 1956-1957. For a subtle examination of relations between UN field personnel

TOWARD A MULTILATERAL FUTURE

345

within the southern hemisphere. Offshoots from ECAFE, EC LA, and ECA, and from other UN regional and subregional agencies, continue to spring up in Asia, Latin America, and Africa. With the establishment of the UN En­ vironmental Programme in Nairobi, a major facility has been domiciled outside of Europe and North America. And UNEP only initiates a new phase in the placement of inter­ governmental organizations. International nongovernmental organizations, too, are widespread in their headquarters lo­ cations. IMPLICATIONS OF A DECENTRALIZED AND SEGMENTED SYSTEM A global system both decentralized and segmented is the consequence of three characteristics—many actors, wide substantive range of relations, and dispersed organization of functional concerns. rHiis system is decentralized in the bases of its constituent actors and in the loci of their rela­ tionships. It is segmented with respect to its substantive areas and with respect to the peepholes that confirm differ­ ent observers of international affairs in their unreconciled views about the essence of the whole. Let us consider several further implications of the global system of which Unesco is an integral part. Our decentralized and segmented system visibly affects the behavior of those who act abroad for the national polity. Notwithstanding occasional hints of isolationism, govern­ ments and peoples find it almost impossible to avoid reand ministerial personnel, see Leon Gordenker, "Multilateral Aid and Influence on Government Policies," in The Politics of International Or­ ganization, 128-52. More generally, see Walter R. Sharp, Field Administration in the United Nations System (New York: Praeger, 1961). Edvard Hambro has suggested that the United Nations de­ velop its own diplomatic and intelligence services at stations about the Globe: "New Staffs for U.N. Favored by Hambro," New York Times, 17 January 1971.

346

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sponding to simultaneous challenges from many stimuli. En­ gagement in intergovernmental organization induces polities to divide the labors of national subsystems. This process in­ tensifies as organization sites become scattered about the planet. Distinctive lessons await national representatives serving at international institutions with personalities all their own. We have found it helpful to distinguish the nation-state as actor from its organizational participants, who must behave differently within far-flung intergovern­ mental institutions. Exposure to manifold lessons takes place even within a single intergovernmental organization. Though some Unescans argue that their institution should concentrate its efforts, each in turn tends to maintain that it should concentrate upon his special, often peculiar, preferences. One partici­ pant's claim thus may become other participants' example. Intergovernmental organizations with small memberships and narrow assignments probably surpass Unesco in their effect upon engaged polities because of the depth to which participants probe focal problems. But the larger the number of governmental and nongovernmental actors engaged in an international institution, the greater will be the range of viewpoints to which each participant will be subjected. And the wider the institution's mandate, the broader will be the scope of concerns to which each par­ ticipant must devote attention. Intergovernmental organizations of many types abound today. However, to what extent multifaceted exposure af­ fects the nation-state, and not merely the behavior of its parts, remains an unsatisfied question. Perhaps appreciation of public goods does develop; in any case, increased aware­ ness of private goods occurs. For instance, after a few years of participation in Unesco, many governmental represen­ tatives conclude that they have several "highest" priorities rather than a single consuming claim.10 Moreover, we have 10

See chapter 7, note 5.

TOWARD A MULTILATERAL FUTURE

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seen how a few nations' subsystems open and close in re­ sponse to challenges from Unesco. But as yet the study of international relations has produced little hard evidence about the impact of concurrent challenges of this sort upon the nation-state. Any conclusion about changing relationships among nation-states must also be tentative. That our present sys­ tem engenders untold new inter-actor transactions can hardly be doubted; this follows almost by definition from our characterization. Nor are other behavioral changes at issue. For instance, caucuses facilitate the deflection of par­ ticipants' original intentions toward aggregate positions. And intergovernmental institutions stimulate other familiar political practices. Multilateral diplomacy encourages the gathering and discharge of inter-participant commitments under tacit understanding of reciprocity. Third parties flourish, often with the blessing of the executive manager. However, the relation between such tactics and any rise in mutual responsiveness among nation-state actors remains little more than an observer's suspicion. This problem, too, invites deeper empirical study. The world we describe presents unceasing opportunities for individuals to undertake international action. Airborne pirates and other terrorists make today's headlines. In this study we have witnessed unsung persons who acted inter­ nationally on behalf of their private causes, their voluntary associations, their communications media, and, of course, their nations. The individuals we call executive managers occupy a central place in this inquiry. Yet our investigation touches only a few of these ambitious men who have be­ come major figures—even actors in their own right—within a decentralized and segmented system. We have reviewed some implications of the present global system for the nation-state and for individual actors. Let us examine the implications of this system for the world complex of intergovernmental organizations.

348

MODES OF ENGAGING

ALLOCATION OF GLOBAL TASKS AND RESOURCES The system we describe in general outline leads to a new and secondary kind of world politics centering on questions of the allocation of tasks and resources among multilateral institutions. Such issues are not entirely distinct from the wish by nation-state actors to retain tasks and resources for their own exclusive purposes. It is tempting to label these issues the politics of coordination, since "coordination" serves so often as political rhetoric and as a mechanism for sublimating the pursuit of more substantial preferences. Governments sometimes call for better coordination of work by international organizations in order to justify their uni­ lateral strategies. A former executive manager of the Eco­ nomic Commission for Europe (ECE), Gunnar Myrdal, writes with feeling about this phenomenon: The developed countries, and particularly the larger among them—notably the United States, Great Britain, France, and . . . the Soviet Union, which have all been active in hindering the organizations from coming to grips with important problems—will often want to turn the underdeveloped countries away from pursuing their true and real interest by getting them concerned instead with the 'coordination' of the United Nations in the economic and social field. I have often witnessed how this trick works, and how all enjoy a fictitious feeling that they are together 'organizing' something of global importance.11 Executive managers want tasks and resources assigned to the institutions with which they identify. Recommendations by the multinational panels they select suggest the consid­ erations that sometimes enter into the minds of reformers. 11 "The Intergovernmental Organizations and the Role of Their Secretariats," Canadian Public Administration, 12 (Autumn 1969), 330.

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"Authored by persons of unimpeachable integrity and great objectivity, who could not possibly be bought," comments Robert E. Asher on a spate of official studies, "the various reports come up, mirabile dictu, with organizational pyra­ mids that give top place to the agency that put the particu­ lar group into orbit." The Jackson Report (A Study of the Capacity of the United Nations Development System) posits stronger controls by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). By sponsoring the Pearson Report (Partners in Progress), according to Harry G. Johnson, "the World Bank has promoted eight nationally eminent men into eight world statesmen, and they have reciprocated by promoting the Bank into a major institution of world gov­ ernment." The Tinbergen Report (Towards Accelerated De­ velopment) assigns coordinative paramountcy to its foster­ ing agent, the UN Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC). And a report commissioned by the Inter-American Develop­ ment Bank and prepared under the guidance of Raul Prebisch suggests an "exceptionally important" role for IDB and for the Inter-American Committee on the Alliance for Progress.12 On the other hand, executive managers in agencies (in­ cluding Unesco), with less ready access to funds from afflu­ ent states than the banking institutions and UNDP have, find contrary justifications for the "sovereignty" of their respective institutions. Competing claims lead to a veiled contest among governments and various multilateral spokes­ men. Each partisan embellishes his interest with suitable principles. Partisans find sustenance in the writings of scholars as well as in the reports of institutionally commissioned study groups. Walter R. Sharp has long urged a strengthened 12 "Development Assistance in DD II: The Recommendations of Perkins, Pearson, Peterson, Prebisch, and Others," International Or­ ganization, 25 (Winter 1971), 100 et seq; Johnson, "Pearson's 'Grant Assize' Fails," Round Table, 237 (January 1970), 24-5, quoted by Asher, p. 100.

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ECOSOC and Administrative Committee on Coordination (ACC) to meet formidable though evolving burdens. Myrdal, to the contrary, terms ECOSOC "an entirely useless intermediary organization with very few real accomplish­ ments to its credit and none which could not have been accomplished without it." He calls for the Council's liqui­ dation as part of a UN Charter reform. Ernst B. Haas out­ lines a scheme within which the UN Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) becomes "the centerpiece of a coordinated and rationalized approach to aid and trade." The United Nations Development Programme would operate directly under UNCTAD. A sizable UN Welfare Council would replace ECOSOC in order to "socialize gov­ ernments into the habits of coordinating trade, aid, money, and development planning" without undertaking major policy making responsibilities.13 Diverse plans to strengthen organs of central control in ways advantageous to their proponents undoubtedly will gain new adherents among like-minded publics. But, in all probability, organized international relations will go on functioning within dispersed institutions in which partici­ pants arrive at discrete choices. The process of mutual ad­ justment by institutions on tasks and resources will contin­ ue to approximate lateral accommodation rather than scalar disposition.14 Horizontal relations among international ac13 Sharp, especially "Program Coordination and the Economic and Social Council," in Gerard J. Mangone, ed., UN Administration of Economic and Social Programs (New York: Columbia University Press, 1966), and The United Nations Economic and Social Council (New York: Columbia University Press, 1969). Myrdal, "The In­ tergovernmental Organizations . . . ," 330. Haas, Tangle of Hopes (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1969), 288ff. For an incisive analysis of relations among intergovernmental organizations, see Mahdi EImandjra, The United Nations System (London: Faber & Faber, 1973), chs. 3 and 4. 14 Cf. Chester I. Barnard, "On Planning for World Government," in Barnard, Organization and Management (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1948), 149ff.; Charles E. Lindblom, The Intelli­ gence of Democracy (New York: Free Press, 1965); Lindblom, The

TOWARD A MULTILATERAL FUTURE

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tors are intrinsic to the system we have sketched. Despite its frustrations, horizontalism is hardly an uncompensated af­ fliction. "The values of . . . pluralism ought not to be sacri­ ficed for some tidy organizational symmetry which is probably illusory in any case," comments a careful scholar who has long favored close collaboration among intergov­ ernmental institutions.15 INFLUENCE AND EFFECTIVENESS Changes in the system affect the influence of various ac­ tors. The multiplying tasks of intergovernmental institutions diminish the control of international developments exerted by powerful actors, because these actors are not willing to devote scarce resources to the command of every institu­ tional outcome. The resulting political vacuum draws in others who advance their engagement in close pursuit of goods seemingly available through active participation. United Nations organizations have never been more alive than they are today, in the eyes of many governments of Africa, Asia, and Latin America. Yet the perceptions of Third-World actors remain a testi­ mony of hope more than one of palpable returns. Evidently our present diffuse system is one in which decisions are made but often not put into effect—when outcomes are "determined" with no actor, governmental or intergovern­ mental, having implemented its policy.18 Unesco's early Policy-Making Process (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1968), 93. But see Stanley Hoffmann, Gulliver's Troubles (New York: McGrawHill, 1968), 123f., for a critique of tendencies, potentially including the present one, to project the American experience with consensus politics upon a world at large. 15 Sharp, "Program Coordination and the Economic and Social Council," 156. 16 For this formulation the author is indebted to Arvid E. Roach, II, and to his " 'Quantity of Power': A Framework for Analysis of the International System," unpublished manuscript, Yale University,

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fiascoes underline the difference between chosen tasks and decisive outcomes. The Hylean Amazon scheme, the Marbial Valley experiment, the plan for a global network of funda­ mental education centers can stand for policy-making fail­ ures that Unesco hardly monopolized among intergovern­ mental organizations—or indeed, within the realm that includes nation-state actors. Why have intergovernmental efforts failed? Our answer must emphasize the failure of critical governments to com­ mit themselves sufficiently in following through what they had resolved to undertake. That some recent Unesco choices have been more fully implemented suggests growing com­ mitment by governments sufficiently near the stage of out­ comes to assure institutional and individual success. The Unesco campaign for literacy, for instance, counted almost half the world's population as illiterate in 1950, 40 percent in 1960, and 34.3 percent in 1971—an indication that literacy programs are politically potent, and not merely occasions to please domestic constituents by voting a worthy goal.17 Most current intergovernmental decisions are carried out less effectively than were those that led to widespread in­ creases in literacy. Neither the security nor the economic and social threats of our day are apt to dissipate unless major governments more seriously utilize the UN Secinrity Council, International Monetary Fund, Food and Agricul­ ture Organization, and UN Environmental Programme, among others, instead of relying upon unilateral measures. 1972. A provocative exploration of some resulting paradoxes is Pierre Hassner, Europe in the Age of Negotiation (Beverly Hflls: Sage, 1973). 17 "UNESCO Sees Illiteracy Surviving the Century," New York Times, 4 September 1971. This report noted that the most optimistic of observers foresee illiteracy for 15 percent of the world's adult pop­ ulation 30 years hence. A more sweeping compliment on various achievements is Richard L. Tobin, "UNESCO: Record of Success," Saturday Review, 54 (6 November 1971), 34.

TOWARD A MULTILATERAL FUTUBE

353

A SYSTEM OF MULTILATERAL COMMITMENTS The process of engagement is discontinuous, neither mechanical nor unilinear in nature. Its future course re­ mains uncertain because of the scholar's partial vision and actors' choices yet unmade. Notwithstanding contingencies, however, one possible future deserves special attention. Let us assume that governmental and nongovernmental actors have acted so as to engage more substantially than at pres­ ent in universal organizations. We thus imply modified conditions within our decentralized and segmented global system. (See Figure 8.1.) Nation-states then would have reconstituted more author­ itative spokesmen in places where multilateral choices are

ACTOR

ACTOR

IGO

FIGURE 8.1. Upgraded Engagement Within a System of Multilateral Commitments.

354

MODES OF ENGAGING

reached and put into effect. Permanent national offices at headquarters sites of intergovernmental institutions would be manned by representatives who exercise considerable discretion in the articulation and pursuit of preferences on behalf of their respective constituencies. UN field stations— and liaison offices within "developed" polities—would have become the foci of close and constant intergovernmental attention. Transnational (NGO) representatives likewise would have moved nearer the points where they might best feed claims through congenial members of secretariats. Caucuses would have become coalitions which meet regu­ larly to concert particular preferences into aggregate posi­ tions and then to oversee the carrying out of adopted policies. They would influence the selection of executive managers more systematically than they do at present.18 In an­ other way, also, these coalitions would suggest political parties: that is, they would strive collectively to hold office holders responsible for organization choices and their execu­ tion. Such conditions would focus greater public attention upon the political leaders of intergovernmental institutions. A multilaterally committed system would not mean national governments without prerogatives, national capitals with­ out foreign policy makers, or nations without cultural iden­ tities.19 But it would mean intergovernmental organizations whose vitality, or regeneration, would have made them institutions in an important sense rather than a trivial one. 18 An occasional sign of such a development appears. For instance: "The Bureau recommends to all non-aligned countries to support the nomination of Mr. Mokhtar M'BOW [Senegal] as Director-General of UNESCO [at the 1974 election]." Fourth Conference of NonAligned Countries, Meeting of the Bureau, Algiers, March 1974, NA4/Bl/Doc. 16/Rev.l, p. 17. M. M'Bow was later elected DirectorGeneral. 19 For a classic statement of the necessity of responsible govern­ mental participation in order to achieve effective organized interna­ tional action, see James A. (later Lord Arthur) Salter, Allied Shipping Control (London: Clarendon Press, 1921), especially 249ff.

TOWARD A MULTILATERAL FUTURE

355

Huntington's rather hyperbolic words suggest what is at issue: "Without strong political institutions, society lacks the means to define and to realize its common interests. The capacity to create political institutions is the capacity to create public interests."20 Intergovernmental organizations such as Unesco remain weak at this point in human histoiy. Whether they will gather strength depends perhaps upon our random lurches into the future,21 but more certainly upon political leader­ ship by their executive managers and upon deliberated responses by other participants. Our decentralized and seg­ mented system makes more urgent, not less so, the call for effective leadership of institutions both old and new. Under the best conditions, a future world system will be one of governance both limited and diffuse in quality, though this system may also be one in which governance becomes gradually more subject to orderly collective action than to the tides of fate. A multilaterally committed system of organized international relationships offers no magic road­ way to world security, human well-being, or individual dig­ nity.22 At most it would deserve two cheers, like Ε. M. Forster's democracy, "one because it admits variety and one 20 "The public interest of a complex society is a complex matter," he adds. Pp. 24, 25. 21 Cf. Karl W. Deutsch, Nationalism and Its Alternatives (New York: Knopf, 1969), 149ff. 22 However, such a configuration may be more promising for cer­ tain values than would imaginable alternatives. "The future," writes Ernst Haas, "may be such as to force us to equate peace with nonintegration and associate the likelihood of major war with successful regional integration. . . . [Given certain conditions, not] only will the state decline as an autonomous decisionmaker, but the power to make decisions will be given to many other units, some smaller and some larger than the present state. This, I believe, would be a whole­ some development for world peace whereas the concentration of all power in a few regional units would endanger it." "The Study of Regional Integration: Reflections on the Joy and Anguish of Pretheorizing," International Organization, 14 (Autumn 1970), 645, 646.

356

MODES OF ENGAGING

because it permits criticism." What men will do with the opportunities of openness cannot really be predicted, only acted. Nonetheless, I believe that a major means for effect­ ing this unknowable future will be the complex of institu­ tions that today we abbreviate as the UN.

Appendix A NOTE ON SCOPE AND METHODS

IN undertaking this inquiry, I hoped to arrive at a more satisfactory interpretation of international organization de­ velopment than the thesis tested in a previous study.1 That study criticized functionalist analysis and prescription for its tendency, in old and newer versions, to overlook politi­ cal factors and to slight action by human beings.2 Indeed, much other current work on international relations appeared to misfire because of its abstract quality. Our problem seemed more susceptible to middle-range explanation built up from small units of analysis, including individuals and groups. A better mode of interpretation also called for fresh international phenomena on which to test new notions. Thus I set out to make sense of Unesco, which I had found sadly neglected in the professional literature. "Engaging" helped me to sort out the patterns of actor involvement that re­ search brought to light, and to cope with problems that emerged in the course of the project. I thought that Darwin had described an ideal method in his Third Notebook on Transmutation of Species: "The line of argument often pur­ sued throughout my theory is to establish a point as a prob1

Functionalism and World Politics: A Study Based on United Nations Activities Financing Economic Development (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1966). 2I trust that both the earlier book and the present one also show my sympathy with the functionalists' definition of the problem of building international community. No doubt this study bespeaks a continuing intellectual debt to David Mitrany and his view of peace­ ful change through gradual, piecemeal processes.

358

UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS

ability by induction and to apply it as hypothesis to other points and see whether it will solve them." The inquiry did not proceed exactly as planned. Unesco demands for recognition grew upon me and my book. I came to appreciate Gunnar Myrdal's lament: "While in all democratic countries we have realistic studies on govern­ ment, elections, legislation, administration, political parties, the role of personalities, vested interests, lobbying, bribery and, indeed, everything that goes on within the framework of the individual states as well as their foreign policies, the literature on the intergovernmental organizations is pecu­ liarly inhibited and void of comprehensive factual analysis which could form the basis for scientific generalization."8 The beast could not be interpreted unless it could be cap­ tured. And this proved no minor task. I began several years ago by eyeing divers writings for their potential aid in the comparative study of international organizations. An initial concern with comparison was re­ directed into a joint study entitled The Anatomy of Influ­ ence: Decision Making in International Organizations.4 This extensive project enabled the co-authors to treat eight se­ lected international organizations within a broad compara­ tive framework. My contribution on Unesco freed me to emphasize problems that increasingly claimed my interest. It also sharpened a question that begged for further atten­ tion: Why did governments of the most materially powerful nation-states not all exert commensurate influence within the intergovernmental organizations to which they be­ longed? As much as possible I leaned upon previous studies of Unesco by scholars and participants.5 Early in 1966 it be3 "The

Intergovernmental Organizations and the Role of Their Secretariats," p. 313. Cf. Karl W. Deutsch, "On Political Theory and Political Action," American Political Science Review, 65 (March 1971), 21-22, 24. 4 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1973). The volume is edited by Robert W. Cox and Harold K. Jacobson. 5 See p. 28, n. 17.

APPENDIX

359

came possible to undertake a systematic if limited examina­ tion of Unesco documents in order to elucidate patterns of task expansion—at that time the investigation s chief focus. This analysis made expanded tasks very evident but not much more comprehensible than they had been. Another problem, the reasons for ineffective task execution, began to obtrude. Granted an opportunity to examine Unesco at closer range during 1966-1967 by support from the Social Science Re­ search Council, I observed as much as possible of the Four­ teenth General Conference and three Executive Board ses­ sions. Interviews with Conference delegates, Executive Board representatives, permanent national liaison officers, secretariat officials, and nongovernmental spokesmen yield­ ed information, new questions, and additional sources. Europe and North America provided over 175 interviews before the study had been completed. Unesco's twentieth anniversary presented an unforeseen bonus when former Directors-General, former Executive Board chairmen and former General Conference presidents revisited Unesco House. I interviewed (or in one case corresponded) with all six of the men who had thus far served as Unesco DirectorGeneral. After completing the bulk of these interviews, I returned to archival materials and specialized sources, both published and unpublished. The first interviews were conducted with individuals who had served in or closely observed Unesco from the begin­ ning. I sought to represent the widest feasible range of na­ tionalities and professional interests, talking with individ­ uals active or formerly active as representatives of member states, as spokesmen for nongovernmental organizations, and in the secretariat. The central question was "What have been Unesco's turning-points?" This open-ended query was intended to prompt the interviewee's recollection of what­ ever he himself deemed of signal importance, including modifications of administrative, budgetary, and personnel practices, major program changes, new memberships, the

360

UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS

creation of other international organizations or the threat of their creation, and various international events indirectly affecting Unesco. Frequently the interviewee figured prom­ inently in the denouement of his story; often his answer revealed personal meaning not difficult to disentangle. Re­ sponses to the central question prompted further questions to elicit information about the turning-points defined by the interviewee. I noted unexpected leads and whenever pos­ sible exploited them as part of the same interview. Many interviews extended well over one hour. These early interviews strengthened my confidence in interpreting the evolution of Unesco as an international in­ stitution, and they pinpointed a series of developments for closer investigation. Later interviews frequently were di­ rected to such specific matters. They too were designed to gain information, to verify hunches, or to focus research in documentary sources more than to fathom individual atti­ tudes. During the General Conference of 1966 I attempted for a time to mount a survey meant to probe delegates' percep­ tions of Unesco as an institution. Which among the several historic conceptions of Unesco as instrument for cooperation inteUectuelle, for "the common welfare of mankind," or for "peace and security" were still alive, and what was their incidence? Alternative cues were also provided for responses on Unesco as a world university, a global philanthropic foun­ dation, or an international ministry of education, science, culture, and communications. Though fascinating and in­ structive, this regimen soon proved impracticable, and I dropped it after about six interviews because of the vast amount of time necessary to arrange liaisons with delegates having commitments to Conference activities. I also con­ cluded that the time it took from my observation of Con­ ference behavior was too great. In the summer of 1969, however, it was possible for Mietta Manca, who is fluent in several European languages, to con­ duct a survey of 21 permanent national liaison officers.

APPENDIX

361

These included representatives of Australia, Austria, Bel­ gium, Brazil, Canada, Congo (now Zaire), Ethiopia, Fin­ land, France, German Federal Republic, India, Italy, Netherlands, Nigeria, Rumania, Sweden, U.A.R., U.K., U.S., U.S.S.R., and Yugoslavia. In every instance possible the top­ most national officer in residence was the person inter­ viewed. Pertinent findings appear in the body of this study either as selected data or as citations indistinguishable from other interview excerpts. The interview format: I. What does your government want Unesco to do most? A. Which particular parts of the current Unesco pro­ gramme should have the highest priority in the judgment of your government? B. Which particular parts of the current Unesco pro­ gramme should have the lowest priority in the judgment of your government? II. Different member governments work with Unesco in different ways to achieve what they want and to avoid what they do not want. Let me suggest five different ways governments may work with Unesco: 1. Some work with friends and vote together to adopt resolutions at the General Conference. 2. Some work through a representative on the Executive Board. 3. Some work directly with the Director-General and the Secretariat throughout the year at Unesco headquarters. 4. Some work with Unesco representatives at home where Unesco projects are actually un­ derway. 5. Some work in the home capital, communicat­ ing with other governments through normal diplomatic channels and with Unesco through representation in Paris. A. Which of these ways does your government rely upon most?

362

UNESCO AND WORLD POLITICS

B. Are there other ways your government works with Unesco? III. What do these other governments seem to want Unesco to do, and how do they go about achieving what they want and avoiding what they do not want? Brazil Canada France German Federal Republic India Italy Japan Morocco

Nigeria Rumania Sweden Switzerland United Arab Republic United Kingdom U.S.A. U.S.S.R.

IV. In the opinion of your government, what is the most important decision to be taken by Unesco since the Fourteenth General Conference—that is, since De­ cember 1966? V. In the judgment of your government, what is the greatest single limiting factor which restricts Unesco from being even more effective than it is now? Perhaps the most unexpected results were several re­ sponses to our "going fishing" question about "other ways your government works with Unesco." Seven official re­ spondents indicated that experts from the home nation-state served as additional means for working with the organiza­ tion. This led me to inquire through secretariat sources about the procedures for selecting individuals for partici­ pation upon Unesco panels and in other experts' activities. Through these interviews, I learned about the widespread tendency for governments to screen or even select and brief national citizens for service as independent experts. During the reflection caused by writing and revising, po­ litical leadership by executive managers loomed ever larger in the personality of intergovernmental institutions. Once

APPENDIX

363

again the notion of engaging offered a cue and an ordering device in explanation. The question of how political actors respond, too, matured with successive drafts; the status of their engagement, and in particular the role of Great Pow­ ers, became clearer and clearer as a determinant of institu­ tional effectiveness. This is a large problem, and it is not at all fully treated here. Indeed, we can better formulate the question of Great-Power control in a study to follow. After this study was completed, I resisted temptations to update by treating selected recent developments. The com­ mencement of Director-General M'Bow's leadership in 1974, the isolation of Israel, and the question of further disengage­ ment by the United States, among issues of concern to various publics, deserve critical examination elsewhere. But I am confident that the careful reader will discern, in my account of the 1950s and 1960s, the appearance of fac­ tors giving rise to issues of today.

INDEX

Page numbers in italics refer to Figures and Tables. Abou-Khadra, Rajai, 337n Abu Simbel, 208f, 252-54. See also cultural activities, Nubian project access, 13-15, 16, 17, 20-21, 70, 84, 271, 284, 302. See also influence Acheson, Dean, 42, 78, 81f, 189 actors, 6f, 24-25, 27, 304ff, 339, 346; as agents of chance, 8; primary types, 16 Adiseshiah, Malcolm, 190, 193, 204f, 209, 212f, 214, 222-23, 229, 232 Administrative Committee on Coordination (ACC), 191, 350 Afghanistan, 93, 172 Africa, 121, 172, 200, 203, 205, 207f, 220-21, 222f, 227, 23032, 235, 237, 241, 251, 258f, 262, 298, 310, 327, 333, 337, 351. See also country names African Centre for Administrative Training and Research for Development (CAFRAD), 263 Aga Khan, Sadruddin, 252 Albania, 168, 334 Algeria, 201, 229, 354n "Al hermano posible," 155 alliance, 23-24, 34, 36, 39f, 69f. See also particularism Als, A., 45 Amaldi, Edoardo, 177

Amazon project, see sciences, Hylean Amazon scheme American Association for the Advancement of Science, 94, 176 American Federation of Labor (AFL), 290 Angell, Robert C., 100, 103, 340n animating mutual concessions, 50ff, 167. See also policy processes Arab states, 208, 222. See also country names Arango, Jaramillo, 92 Araujo Pereira, Arturo Ramos de, 100 arenas, 15, 16 Arid Zones major project, see sciences, Arid Zones major project Arnold, family line, 86 Aron, Raymond, 342 Ascher, Charles S., 28n, 72n, 110η, 120n, 127n Asher, Robert E., 349 Asia, 170, 191, 193, 198, 203, 207f, 22 If, 235, 243, 245, 258f, 298, 310, 351. See also country names assembly, see plenary Athenaeum Club, London, 85n Athens, 134 attitude change, 328ff, 345-47. See also socialization Attlee, Clement, 80, 81

366 Auger, Pierre, 46, 119, 174ff, 197f, 234f, 248, 262 Australia, 60, 62, 65n, 119f, 127ff, 249, 261n, 286n, 361 Austria, 263, 316, 361 authority, 18 autism, political, 308 autonomy, 18f, 55, 85, 90, 117, 120, 134f, 139f, 144f, 266, 283ff Avenol, Joseph, 296 Awad, Mahomed Bey, 100 Baillot, Juliette, 87 Balogh, Thomas, 233 Barber, James David, 280n, 282f, 293n Barker, Ernest, 38, 54, 185£ Barnard, Chester I., 350n Barros, James, 289n, 296n Batisse, Michel, 249, 250 BBC, see British Broadcasting Corporation Beaverbrook Press, 321 Beeby, Clarence E., 93, 160, 170, 172, 205, 207 Behrman, Daniel, 242n Behrman, Jack N., 340n Behrstock, Julian, 257f, 259 Belgium, 36-37, 40-41, 45, 60, 65n, 66, 80, 119, 146, 15960, 178, 361 Bellardo, Brian, 290n Beloussov, V. V., 242 Bender, Frans, 153 Bennett, Alvin L., 33n Benton, William, 84, 97, 98n, 105f, 126f, 135, 140-41, 14546 Berredo Carneiro, Paulo de, 122f, 155, 159, 180, 183, 187, 212, 266 Besterman, Theodore, 28n, 124 Bevin, Ernest, 42n-43n

INDEX

Bhabha, Homi, 187 Bhagwati, Jagdish, 297n Bidault, Georges, 138f Biddle, Francis, 105f BIE, see Bureau international (!'education bilateralism, 16, 23, 37f, 41, 44, 47f, 49, 62, 82, 279, 281, 308, 310. See also strategies biosphere, see under sciences Biosphere, Intergovernmental Conference on, 248 Blake, William, 339 Blum, Leon, 77 Boerma, A. H., 204n Bohr, Niels, 178 Bonnet, Henri, 33n, 68, 74, 76f, 85, 105 books, for war and peace, 38f, 39n; publication and sale of, 125, 182 Boyd-Orr, John, 281 Braisted, Paul J., 326n Brazil, 122-23, 187, 212, 263, 312, 314, 316, 361-62 Bret, P. L., 192 Brindley, Thomas Α., 326n Britain, see United Kingdom (U.K.) British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), 40, 87 British Council, 35, 36n, 44, 59, 61, 69 Brock, Baxrington, 43 Brunauer, Esther, 97 Bulgaria, 168, 334 Burckhardt, Carl J., 187 Bureau international d'Education (BIE), 33, 33n, 34n, 56, 58, 76f, 88, 93, 135, 173, 225 Bureau international des poids et mesures, 46n Burma, 162 Butler, R. A., 35, 38, 57f, 60, 169

INDEX

Butts, Marie, 34n Byelorussian Soviet Socialist Republic, 167, 333 Byrnes, James F., 42, 43n, 105 cabinet, 214, 216, 268 Caesar, 282 Cain, Julien, 124 Calder, Nigel, 250n Calder, Ritchie, 135, 175, 177, 198, 261n Camacho, Avila, 130 Cambodia, 151, 201 CAME, see Conference of Allied Ministers of Education Cameroon, 312 Camus, Albert, 152 Canada, 57, 60, 62, 65n, 22627, 261η, 281, 334, 361-62 Candau, see Gomes Candau Cantril, Hadley, 100-01, 103 Carder, Michael, 343n Carneiro, see Berredo Carneiro Carr, William G., 55n-56n Carter, Edward, 124f Casals, Pablo, 152 Cassin, Rene, 37, 58 Castlereagh, 9n caucus, 27, 104n, 153, 155, 207, 222, 245, 284, 313; aggrega­ tion of preferences in, 347; as embryonic political party, 354 Cefkin, John Leo, 317n Centre for European Nuclear Research (CERN), 96, 17679, 245 CERN, see Centre for Euro­ pean Nuclear Research Ceylon, 244 challenge, 9ff, 24, 28f, 62fi, 81, 83, 117, 188, 274f, 292, 298, 304f. See also nature

367 chance, 3f, 8f, 33, 205-06, 242, 248, 272, 295, 304, 355 Chardin, Teilhard de, see Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre Chicago Tribune, 318n Chile, 263 China, 58ff, 62, 65n, 78, 94-95, 104, 121, 145, 156, 167, 181, 192, 195, 334, 337, 337n, 344 Chisholm, Brock, 281 choice, as essence of politics, 9, 272, 295, 329, 353, 355-56 Christian Science Monitor, 318n Clark, Ronald W., 86n, 128 Claude, Inis L., 157n Clay, Lucius, 145, 146 Clayton, M., 65n Clemenceau, on Drummond, 289n coalition, as embryonic political party, 298. See also caucus Codding, George A., 257, 258n Cohen, Benjamin, 148ff, 318n, 319ff Cohen, Bernard C., 318n, 319ff Cohen, Jerome Alan, 337n collective goods, see goods, public and private Colombia, 92, 123, 154, 314 colonialism, Unesco and, 322 Colonnetti, Gustavo, 178 Comenius (Bishop Komensky), 5In commitment, personal, 20, 142ff, 155, 190, 194, 214, 274 Commonweal, 290f Commonwealth of Nations, 12 communications, 28, 36n, 38, 40, 40n, 97-99, IlOf, 182-83, 256-61; constitutional estate, 92, 97; Huxley's view of, 110-11; Maheu's view of, 218; private interests and, 98,

368 communications (cont.) 259; space satellites and, 261. See also world broad­ casting comparative politics, 317; and study of international organization, 304n-305n Compton, Arthur A., 120 concentration, theme in Unesco policy making, 91, 117-18f, 121, 131, 136-37, 143f, 150, 153, 171, 206, 216, 310f, 322, 346. See also consolidation; convergence confederation, 4 Conference of Allied Ministers of Education (CAME), Lon­ don, 34-70, 80ff, 91, 104, 336 Congo, 200, 219, 361; UN operation in, 23 conscience, Unesco as, 132, 145, 192 consolidation of Unesco pro­ grams, 138. See also concen­ tration; convergence constitutional conference, London, 71-83, 85 Convention against Discrimina­ tion in Education (CDE), 223f convergence of Unesco programs, 215fF, 266. See also con­ centration; consolidation Coombs, Philip H., 220, 225, 226, 326n Cooper, Richard N., 304n coordination of international actions, 59, 64, 73f, 76, 88, 90, 102f, 131-35, 182f, 189£F, 191, 202ff, 215f, 246, 248, 260, 267f, 271; as control by Great Powers, 286; global politics of, 348ff; with UN, 257. See also inter-organizational competition

INDEX

copyright law, 46, 98, 181f, 259, 337n Costa Rica, 261n council, 15, 16, 17f, 168-69, 306, 311-12. See also Exec­ utive Board, Unesco; Security Council, UN Council of Europe, 155, 183 Cowell, F. R., 34n, 65n, 85n Cox, Robert W., 28n, 199n, 290n, 306n, 358n Croce, Benedetto, 331 Cuba, 75, 316; missile crisis, 10 cultural activities, 28, 38, 4142, 96-97, IlOff, 180-82, 216, 251-56; East-West major project, 167, 179, 316; Italian response, 331; museums, 96, 112; Nubian project, 208, 251-54, 266; protection and restoration of cultural objects, 180f, 254-56 cultural preservation, proposed Unesco fund for, 191-92 culture, Maheu's view of, 218 Curie, Adam, 234n Czechoslovakia, 36-37, 60, 65n, 119, 145-46, 168, 227, 334 Dahl, Robert Α., 19n Dahrendorf, Ralf, 27n Dale, Henry, 44, 78 Darlington, C. D., 53f, 85 Darwin, 357f Davies, Gwilym, 63n Deacon, G.E.R., 245 decentralization, of organized international relations, 134f, 344ff Denmark, 244, 332, 334 Department of State, U.S., as subgovernmental actor, 156, 157, 160f, 165, 169, 288n Desai, Padma, 297n

INDEX

Desroches-Noblecourt, Christiane, 251 detente, see peaceful coexistence and cooperation, proposed major project Deutsch, Karl W., 20, 355n, 358n development, books and, 261; communications and, 259ff; conceptions and conditions of, 111, 122, 129f, 154, 167, 189-90, 197, 202ff, 222ff, 236, 325, 343; cultural activ­ ities and, 256; education and, 230if; industrialization and, 238f; Maheu on, 266; science and, 234ff; social, 184; social sciences and, 264 Development, United Nations Decade of, 201 Dexter, Byron, 139f Ding, J. N., 4 Diop, Obeye, 258 Director-General, Unesco, germination and development of office, 26, 36f, 59, 64, 73, 75, 93, 118, 120, 189; se­ lection as, 17f, 54, 84ff, 104ff, 127if, 155ff, 159ff, 192ff, 209ff, 268, 271, 288, 354n. See also executive manager domestic jurisdiction, 76, 76n, 108 Dominican Republic, 10, 65n Downie, P. M., 65n Drummond, Eric, 289 Drzewieski, Bernard, 83, 118, 125 Dubos, Rene, 247, 249f Duverger, Maurice, 184 earthquakes, see sciences, earth East-West major project, see cultural activities, East-West major project

369 ECA, see Economic Commission for Africa ECAFE, see Economic Com­ mission for Asia and the Far East Eccles, David, 219 ECE, see Economic Commission for Europe ECLA, see Economic Commis­ sion for Latin America Ecole Normale Superieure, 213, 214 ecology, see sciences, biosphere; sciences, ecology Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), UN, 95, 13235, 151f, 191, 259f, 349-50 Economic Commission for Africa (ECA), UN, 223, 226, 345 Economic Commission for Asia and the Far East (ECAFE), UN, 226, 258, 345 Economic Commission for Europe (ECE), UN, 183, 281, 289, 333, 348 Economic Commission for Latin America (ECLA), UN, 226, 282, 329, 345 economists, and educational development, 230ff ECOSOC, see Economic and Social Council Ecuador, 229 education, 28, 38-41, 87, 9294, HOff, 172-74, 206f, 21934; adult, 92, 226ff; and peace, 79n; compulsory, 17374; development and, 236; for international understand­ ing, 120f, 184; fundamental, 94, 111, 120ff, 142f; funda­ mental education centers, 172-73, 226, 352; Huxley's view of, 111-12; Latin

370 education (cont.) American major project, 17374, 220; lifelong, 92, 220f, 230; literacy, 130f, 171, 227ff, 291, 352; Maheu's view of, 218; Marbial Valley fiasco, 121, 172, 352; primary, 220f; priority to, 219ff; secondary, 220f; teachers' charter, 93, 224f; technical and vocational, 220; universities and, 92 effectiveness and ineffectiveness, conditions of, 3, 6, 13f, 17£F, 20ff, 29, 47, 55, 65, 81fl, 93f 108, 115f, 118, 120f, 123, 125ff, 130f, 135f, 140, 143ff, 146, 148, 150, 153f, 167, 172, 180, 185, 191f, 198f, 201 205, 224, 226n, 230, 242, 250, 253, 255, 271f, 274, 282ff, 294ff, 298, 308, 312, 336, 338, 35If, 354f, 359, 363. See also influence effectiveness, leadership and, 23, 29, 275ff, 355 Egypt, 65n, 95, 100, 167, 172f, 209, 226, 235, 251-54, 312, 314, 361, 362 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 240 Eisenhower, Milton, 119 Elmandjra, Mahdi, 232, 233n, 264, 350n El Salvador, 207 engaging, 3, 6f, 9ff, 14ff, 20ff, 30, 33, 36, 43f, 50, 52, 61ff, 65n, 70f, 81ff, 88f, 91f, 96, 99, 103f, 106, 110, 114, 116f, 120, 123ff, 126f, 131, 134ff, 137, 139, 143ff, 146ff, 150f, 155, 166if, 169ff, 177, 188f, 191S, 195, 198f, 205, 218, 224, 228, 239f, 242, 244f, 257, 262, 265, 268ff, 273ff, 279ff, 294ff, 305ff, 327, 339, 346, 351,

INDEX

354n, 357, 363; as rational behavior, 13ff, 284, 286. See also effectiveness environment, see sciences, biosphere; Human Environ­ ment, UN Conference on EPTA, see Expanded Programme of Technical Assistance Erikson, Erik, 279 Errera, M., 160 Escarpit, Robert, 261 Ethiopia, 65n, 222, 230, 232, 361 European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC), see European Community European Community, 27n, 282, 300, 329, 344; Rritain's engaging, Ilff European Co-ordination Centre for Research and Document in the Social Sciences, 263 European Economic Community (EEC), see European Community European Free Trade Association (EFTA), 11 Evans, B. Ifor, 39n Evans, Luther, 17, 29, 72n, 124, 148ff, 153, 160ff, 180ff, 214, 216, 217, 220, 229, 236, 252, 281, 287, 291, 293; legacy of, 188ff; style of, 171, 191 evils, see goods, public and private exchange, international, 324, 336. See also bilateralism Executive Board, Unesco, germination and development, 17f, 26, 55, 59ff, 64, 67, 73, 75, 104, 118, 138, 16869, 268, 311-12. See also council executive manager, 17-21, 29, 279ff, 362; as Sisyphus, 297;

INDEX

crisis-using, 295; executive budgeting by, 189, 286; personal identification with, 286-87; staff appointments, 287ff; Unesco Director-General as, 26. See also DirectorGeneral, Unesco; leadership executive managers, women as, 287 Expanded Programme of Tech­ nical Assistance (EPTA), UN, 189ff experts, national, 315 Falk, Richard Α., 342n Farr, William, 99 Fawtier, Robert, 187 Federation of International Civil Servants Associations (FICSA), 158f Feld, Werner J., 340n Fernig, Leo, 225, 226n Festival of Negro Arts, 251 field operations, 27, 50, 93, 95, 122, 189ff, 204, 217f, 301, 302, 315, 344, 354, 362 Finch, Elizabeth Α., 330n Finland, 332, 361 Florence, restoration after floods of 1966, 254 Florkin, Marcel, 155 Fobes, John E., 205 Food and Agriculture Organi­ zation (FAO), 18, 246, 248, 281, 331, 333, 352 Ford Foundation, 204, 220, 226 Forster, E. M., 355 France, 5, 36, 41, 45f, 58, 60, 65n, 67ff, 7Iff, 80, 96, 101, 104, 115f, 119, 123ff, 138f, 152ff, 165, 169, 177ff, 187, 192f, 212ff, 225, 23Iff, 247f, 251, 254, 261, 267, 287, 312f, 314, 316f, 33 If, 334, 348, 361f

371 Frank, L. K., 114 Frankel, Charles, 326n Fraser, C. F., 116n Free, Lloyd, 97-99 French, Hope Sewell, 34n Fulbright, J. William, 47n, 64f, 65n, 79, 79n-80n function, see purpose(s) functional literacy, 229 functionalist notions, 109, 115f, 143, 174, 245, 291, 344, 357n funds, annual totals, Unesco, 285 games, international, 144, 281, 295, 348ff GATT, see General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), 183 General Assembly, UN, 250; effect on Unesco, 134f. See also plenary General Conference, Unesco, 26, 55, 64, 66f, 72, 74-75, 103ff, 138, 153. See also plenary George, Alexander L., 294n Germany, Federal Republic of, 42, 44ff, 53, 96, 140, 145, 151, 156, 162, 248, 254, 312, 334, 361f; Democratic Republic of, 181 Ghana, 327 Gjesdal, Tor, 257, 258, 260 Gomes Candau, Marcolino, 159 goods, public and private, 3, 11-12, 14f, 17, 21, 30, 98, 137, 140, 198, 207, 274, 284, 289, 342f, 346, 351, 355; attributes of, 14 Gordenker, Leon, 345n Gosselin, Guy, 337n governance, see effectiveness Grazia, Alfred de, 205

372 Great Britain, see United Kingdom Great Powers, 5, 12f, 60, 104, 171, 244ff, 271, 279, 284f, 289, 310, 312, 331, 335, 344, 348, 358 Greaves, H.R.G., 33n Greece, 3-4, 36, 60, 65n, 83, 134, 254, 326 Green, Paul, 179 Grew, Joseph C., 42, 69 Grierson, John, 99, 109 Grousseaud, Jean, 152 Grousset, Rene, 188 Guatemala, 65n Guerif, Jacques-H., 150 Haas, Ernst B., 199n, 296, 300, 330n, 350, 355n Haeckel, Ernst, 248 Haiti, 121, 172 Haldane, J.B.S., 53f, 85 Haller, Jozef, 41 Hallstein, Walter, 27 Hambro, Edvard, 345n Hammarskjold, Dag, 282, 333 Hanseatic League, 4 Harbison, Frederick H., 233 Hardenberg, J.D.G., 243 Hardman, John, 99, 126 Hassner, Pierre, 352n Hawkes, Jacquetta, 253 Hazzard, Shirley, 288n headquarters, building, 188f, 210f, 273; site, 26, 76ff, 89, 104f, 138f, 152, 154f, 344 Heath, Edward, 12-13 Heck, Charles, 19n Herz, John H., 304n Hill, Α. V., 48 Hirschman, Albert O., 14 Hiss, Alger, 156 history of mankind, scientific and cultural project, 38-39,

INDEX

113, 185-88, 262, 292; African response, 262; Italian response, 331 Hjelmviet, Nils, 58 HoflEman, Paul, 202f, 262, 282, 35In Holcroft, Μ. H., 103n Holden, Matthew, 281n Holland, see Netherlands "Holyrood," 87 Hoste, Jules, 37, 65n housing, proposed task, 191 Huebsch, Ben W., 160 Hugo, Victor, 272 Hull, Cordell, 42n Human Environment, UN Conference on, 250 human rights, 97, 116, 132, 184, 224, 256ff Hungary, 141, 146, 168, 334; crisis, 168 Hungdah Chiu, 337n hunger, Unesco and relief of, 322 Huntington, Samuel P., 137n38n, 197-98, 274n, 341n, 354f, 355n Hutchinson, Walter, 39n Huxley, Julian S., 17, 28n, 29, 50n, 53f, 78, 85ff, 106ff, 121n, 127ff, 130, 135, 138, 144, 163, 186f, 214, 241, 247, 265f, 267, 287, 290, 293f, 300, 343n; family line, 86, 113n; "philosophical espe­ ranto," 330; priorities, IlOflE; progress, concept of, 109 Hylean Amazon project, see sciences, Hylean Amazon scheme IBRD, see International Bank for Reconstruction and Development

INDEX

IDA, see International Develop­ ment Association IFC, see International Finance Corporation IICI, see lnstitut international de cooperation intellectuelle immigration, Unesco and, 322 impact, see effectiveness implementation, see effectiveness Index Translationum, 96 India, 60, 65n, 95, 124f, 128, 145, 167, 170-73, 179, 187, 190, 192, 204, 207, 212, 226, 246, 258, 261, 302, 314, 316, 327, 335, 361-62 Indian Ocean, 244ff Indonesia, 207, 211, 243 Indo-Pacific Fisheries Council (IPFC), 243 industrialization, proposed task, 191 influence, 13f, 15, 18, 20, 27, 174f, 268ff, 284, 301, 312, 351, 358; resources for, 280f. See also effectiveness; engag­ ing lnstitut international de co­ operation intellectuelle (IICI), 33, 33n, 37, 58, 67, 74, 77, 80, 84f, 88f, 92ff, 96, 110, 135, 181, 197 institutionalization, 17, 28f, 59, 61, 63, 137ff, 168f, 194, 197f, 268, 274, 286, 354f integration, regional, 23f, 355n intelligence, 19f, 216 intentions, 10, 12f, 20f, 24, 30 Inter-American Committee on the Alliance for Progress, 349 Inter-American Development Bank (IDB), 203, 349 interdependence, 8, 175, 186, 188, 304n interests, see goods

373 intergovernmental organization, definition, skeletal, 17 International Advisory Com­ mittee on Marine Sciences (IACOMS ),244 International Bank for Recon­ struction and Development (IBRD), 18, 134, 173, 203, 221, 256, 261, 283f, 297, 300, 302, 349 International Bureau of Educa­ tion, see Bureau international d'education (BIE) International Centre for the . . . Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Property, 252 International Council for Philosophy and Humanistic Studies (ICPHS), 187 International Council for Research in the Arid Zones, 175 International Council of Museums, 96 International Council of Scien­ tific Unions, 94f, 187, 239, 244, 301 International Development Association (IDA), 203, 256, 283f, 333 International Federation for Documentation (FID), 125 International Federation of LibraryAssociations (IFLA), 125 International Finance Corpora­ tion (IFC), 256 International Fisheries Board, 51 international fund for primary education, Unesco, proposed, 222 International Geophysical Year (IGY), 239

374 International Hydrological Decade (IHD), 240 International Indian Ocean Expedition (IIOE), 246 International Institute for Educational Planning (HEP), 226, 233 International Institute of the Hylean Amazon (IIHA), 123 International Labor Organization (ILO), 19, 65f, 93, 109, 133, 199n, 223, 225, 267, 281, 290, 302, 333 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 22, 134, 352 International Music Institute, 96f International Oceanographic Commission (IOC), 244-45, 246f International Political Science Association, 263 International Summer Schools, 58 International Telecommunication Union (ITU), 183, 258 International Theatre Institute, 97 International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN), 241 International Union of Geodesy and Geophysics (IUGG), 241 International Union of Theoretical and Applied Mechanics (IUTAM), 123f inter-organizational competition, 58, 228, 234ff, 246, 281, 348fi. See also coordination intervention, 16, 26n, 304n Iran, 65n, 229, 242 Iraq, 173 Ireland, 262

INDEX

Iroquois, 4 Iselin, C. O'D., 244 Israel, 173, 261n, 363 Italy, 41, 87, 96, 123, 140ff, 148, 151, 166, 171, 178, 180f, 187, 193ff, 244, 252, 254, 314, 316, 33If, 334, 361f Ivory Coast, 231 Jackson Report, see Jackson, Robert Jackson, Robert, 289n, 349 Jacobson, Harold K., 18n, 28n, 306n, 358n Japan, 151, 162, 232, 242, 243f, 246, 261n, 312, 316, 334, 344, 362 "Jeffersonian principle," 81 Jenks, C. Wilfred, 65, 290 Johnny Appleseed, Unesco as, 343 Johnson, Charles S., lOlf Johnson, Harry G., 349 Johnson, L. B„ 240, 255, 326n Johnson, Richard A., 41, 63n, 65n Journal of World History, 188 journalists, training of, proposed task, 99 Jouvenel, Bertrand de, 294 Jungk, Robert, 179n Kaiser, Karl, 304n Kandel, I. L., 226n Karavaev, B., 65n Karp, Basil, 71n, lOln, 116n, 120n, 147n, 174n, 181n, 185n, 228n

Karsen, Sonja, 129n Kay, David, 199n Kefauver, Grayson, 54, 68, 69 Keniston, Kenneth, 273n Kennedy, John F., 201f Kenya, 345

INDEX

Keohane, Robert O., 304n, 340n Keresztesi, Michael, 124n Kesteven, G. L., 243 Kidder, Frederick E., 337n Kirpal, Prem, 212, 316 Kissinger, Henry, 9n, 265 Kitzinger, Uwe, 13 Klineberg, Otto, 100 Kolasa, Jan, 33n Korea, Republic of, 148ff, 151; war, 146, 156, 335 Korringa, Pieter, 247 Kotschnig, Walter M., 56n, 76n, 174n, 201n Kovda, Victor A., 238 Kowarski, Lew, 178 Krill de Capello, H. H., 72n Kuo Yu-shou, 121 Kuypers, J., 119 LAFTA, see Latin American Free Trade Association Laos, 151 Latin America, 56, 60, 68, 99, 104n, 111, 122, 128, 155, 173f, 180, 191ff, 198, 203, 206ff, 221, 235, 258f, 292, 298, 301, 317, 351. See also country names Latin American Free Trade Association, 329f Latin American major project, see education, Latin American major project Latin American Social Science Faculty (FLACSO), 263 Latin American Social Science Research Centre (CENTRO), 263 Laugier, Henri, 50n, 177 Laves, Walter H. C., 28n, 107n, 118ff, 138n, 156, 174n, 180n, 317n, 326n, 337n leadership, and effectiveness,

375 23, 29, 275ff, 355; calling of, 279. See also engaging; executive manager; influence League of Nations, 4-5, 84 Lebanon, 127f, 131, 160, 194, 223, 226 Leeuwenhoek, 5 In Leff, David, 158 Leith Ross, Frederick, 81 Lengyel, Peter, 262 Lerner, Michael, 273n Levy, Hyman, 177 Lewis, Arthur, 211 library activities, 96, 112, 12426, 182, 333 Library Journal, 162f Library of Congress, 161ff Lie, Trygve, 88, 157, 189, 288n, 289, 293, 333 Lindblom, Charles E., 297, 350) Lindell, John, 337n linkage, 304n. See also interdependence; national commis sions; national systemic sector; response; transnational associations Lodge, Henry Cabot, 165, 201] London International Assembly, 34, 35, 37, 41, 55, 58 Lopez, Salvador P., 211 Louw, Eric, 328 Luxembourg, 45, 60, 65n Lyon, Peter, 180n Lyons, Gene M., 265n Maclver, Robert, 100 MacLeish, Archibald, 80, 82n, 83, 97, 98n, 106, 115, 119, 124, I6If, 169 Macmillan, Harold, llff Madariaga, Salvador de, 152 Maheu, Rene, 18, 28n, 29, 171, 190, 193, 205, 209ff, 223, 227, 233f, 235f, 246, 252ff,

376 Maheu, Rene (cont.) 259, 26Iff, 266ff, 272fi, 287, 292f, 297, 301f, 313; style of, 215ff major projects, 171ff, 206ff. See also under education; sciences; cultural activities Malan, D. F., 327 Malfatti, Franco, 27n Mali, 209, 229, 312 Malik, Charles, 160 Malraux, Andre, 252 Manca, Mietta, 360 Manchester Guardian, 103, 103n, 145, 146, 148, 186, 251, 321 Mansholt, Sicco, 27n Marbial Valley fiasco, see under education Marino Perez, Luis, 75 Maritain, Jacques, 115f, 291 Marjolin, Robert, 27n Marshall, James, 56n, 168, 198 Marx, Karl, 273 Matveyev, Alexei, 246 Maud, John, 85, 116n, 160, 321 M'Bow, Mokhtar, 354n, 363 McCarran, Pat, 158f McCarthy, Joseph, 156, 158f, 319, 326 McCormick, Ann O'Hare, 97 McKeon, Dean Richard, 119f McNamara, Robert, 283 Meiklejohn, Alexander, 40n member states, Unesco, 269 methods for inquiry, 24n-25n, 29-30, 304n-305n Mexico, 81, 115, 120f, 127ff, 142ff, 152, 172f, 187, 226, 256, 314, 329f, 332 Meyer, Eugene, 283 Meyer, Marie Leonard, 337n Middle East, 240. See also country names

INDEX

Milam, Carl Hastings, 124 Milwaukee Journal, 318n Mitrany, David, 49n, 357n mixed goods, see goods Modelski, George, 341n Molotov, Vyacheslav, 167 Monde, Le, 149, 228f Monnet, Jean, 27n, 282 Moorehead, Alan, 144-45, 147, 148 Mora Vasquez, Jose Manuel, 154 Morawiecki, Wojciech, 334-36 Moraze, Charles, 187 Morocco, 162, 232, 263, 314, 316, 362 Morse, David Α., 199n, 294n Muller, C., 65n, 80 multilateral frigate (MLF), proposed, 245 multilateralism, see particularism; universalism multiplicity of ranges, see substantive areas, internation­ al, range of Murville, Couve de, 210f museums, see under cultural activities Myrdal, Alva, 184, 333 Myrdal, Gunnar, 281, 289, 333, 348, 350, 358 Nannetti, Guillermo, 172 Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 253 national commissions, Unesco, 41, 55, 66f, 72f, 74£f, 152, 155, 167, 179, 192, 225, 242, 244, 264, 315ff, 331 National Education Association, U.S., 30If national experts, 362 National Opinion Research Center (NORC), 321ff national subsystem, see national systemic sector

INDEX national systemic sector, 150, 290, 306, 307, 308f, 315, 346 NATO, see North Atlantic Treaty Organization nature, 9, 26, 109. See also challenge Nairn, Ronald C., 121n Neal, Marian, 121n need, see challenge Needham, Joseph, 34n, 48, 68, 78, 94-96, 174, 177, 187 Netherlands, 36, 39n, 47, 60, 65n, 68, 123, 153, 181, 211, 247, 334, 361 Neue Ziircher Zeitung1 267 Neustadt, Richard, Iln New Education Fellowship, 58, 93 New Statesman, 159, 165 New York Herald Tribune, Paris edition, as actor, 106, 106n New York Times, 153, 213, 237, 318ff, 320 New York Times Magazine, 201 New Zealand, 60, 62f, 93,160, 170, 205, 207, 261n, 314 NGOs, see nongovernmental organizations Niebuhr, Reinhold, 175n Nigeria, 237, 312, 361, 362 nonaligned states, 354η. See also Africa, Arab states, Asia, Latin America, Yugoslavia nonaligned states, 354n. See also (NGOs), 7, 16, 23, 27, 39, 54ff, 66, 72, 74ff, 81, 91ff, 98, 108ff, 123ff, 136ff, 184, 204, 234, 239, 241, 248ff, 254, 263, 283f, 290, 300ff, 339ff, 354; affiliated with Unesco, 270, 271. See also NGO names; transnational associa­ tions

377 NORC, see National Opinion Research Center North Atlantic Treaty Organi­ zation (NATO), 12, 21 Norway, 36, 52f, 58, 60, 65n, 257, 289, 314, 329, 332f, 334 Nubian project, see under cultural activities Nye, Joseph S., 304n, 340n OAS, see Organization of American States obligation, 8, 305. See also engaging Observer, The, 253, 321 oceanography, see under sciences OECD, see Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development Ogrodzinski, 141f Oldenburg, Henry, 51n Opocensky, Jan, 65n Oppenheimer, J. Robert, 177 organisation international de eoop6ration intellectuelle, proposed, 68, 72ff Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), 225, 231, 233 Organization of American States, 172 Osakwe, C. O., 337n outcomes, see goods Pakistan, 222, 229, 302, 312 Parkinson, Nancy, 35, 65n, 69 participants, 27, 29, 346; dis­ tinguished from actors, 7; primary types, 16; Unesco, 269, 270 participation, 8. See also engaging

378 particularism, 23, 34, 36, 38ff, 47f, 60, 64n, 69f, 137, 142, 149, 151, 173, 281, 327, 343f; intensity of impact upon participants, 346. See also alliance; strategies peaceful change, 357n. See also policy processes peaceful coexistence and cooperation, proposed major project, 206 Pearson, Lester B., 349 Peck, Richard, 315η Pecson, Geronima, 146 Pendergast, William R., 317 penetration, 16, 304n, 309 perceptions, 10, 24, 345 Perez-Vitoria, Augusto, 245 permanent representatives, 49, 83f, 246, 315, 335, 353f perseveration, in initial response, 309f Peru, 65n, 123, 180 Pham Thi-tu, 33n Phelan, Edward J., 19n, 65 Philae, see cultural activities, Nubian project Philippines, 93, 146, 207, 211, 243 philosophy, 96, 112 Piaget, Jean, 76f, 154 planning, 218. See also planning, educational planning, educational, 221ff; conditions of effectiveness,

226n Plato, xi, 282 plenary, 15, 16, 26, 27, 55, 306, 311; and ineffectiveness, 5, 153. See also General Assembly, UN; General Conference, Unesco Poland, 36, 41, 60, 65n, 83, 118, 125, 14If, 146, 168, 334

INDEX

policy, components of, 27, 271 policy making, 268ft policy processes, 50S, 76n, 269n. See also animating mutual concessions; promoting pro­ grammatic and structural extension; reallocating re­ sources; setting and applying general standards political parties, transnational, see coalition; caucus Political Role of Women, The, 184 pollution, 246f. See also sciences, biosphere; sciences, oceanographic Pompei, Gian Franco, 193, 332 population pressures, IOlf, 108, 113, 114, 343, 343n; and Roman Catholic engaging, 292 Praeger, Andrea M., 337n Praz, Mario, 187 Prebisch, Raul, 282, 349 preferences, see goods Preparatory Commission, 83ff, 88-103, 104fE, 141 press coverage, Unesco, 320 Priestley, J. B., 90n, 99 private goods, see goods promoting programmatic and structural extension, 50ff, 75, 101f, 123ff, 176, 182, 190f, 202f, 216ff, 228, 234, 237f, 256, 259, 269n. See also policy processes proximity, see access; engaging public goods, see goods public international unions, 4. See also agency names Publishers' Weekly, 160, 182 purpose(s), of Unesco, 79-81, 107ff, 118, 137, 142ff, 274, 325, 360

INDEX

putting up money for engaging, public support, 323ff Rabi, Isador I., 177 Radhakrishnan, Sarvepalli, 145, 179 Raestad, Arnold, 50 Ranasinghe, Alex, 291n Rapkine, L., 54 reading publics, Unesco, 318 reallocating resources, 51f, 167, 230f. See also policy processes reconstruction, 38, 58, 64ff, 8183, 87, 118, 120, 149, 324, 325 Redfield, Robert, 101 regeneration, 192, 199ff regional integration, see inte­ gration, regional regionalism, see particularism regions, see continent names rehabilitation, see reconstruction replication, by use of organiza­ tional names, 274 relief, see reconstruction resources, and influence, 19 response, 8, 8n, IOf, 28f, 45, 6 Iff, 65n, 69, 81f, 126f, 170f, 274f, 292, 298, 304ff, 346, 363 Reuss, Henry S., 201f Revelle, Roger, 244 Rey, Jean, 27n Rhodesia and Nyasaland, Federation of, 327 Ribnikar, Vladislav, 140f, 155, 330 Richardson, W. R., 35, 65n Rivet, Paul, 192 Roach, Arvid E., 351n Robbins, John E., 57 Robertson, Malcolm, 36 Roderick, Hilliard, 238 Rollin, Henri, 159

379 Roman Catholic Church, 115f, 193, 195, 290-92, 301 Romanovsky, S., 336 Rome, 4 Roncalli, Angelo Giuseppe, 292 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 38, 42, 99f Rosenau, James N., 304n Rosi, Giorgio, 254 Ross, Lillian, 123n Rossello, Pedro, 33n Rotary International, 58 Rougemont, Denis de, 155 Roumiantsev, 336 Royal Society, 48, 51n, 53, 78 Ruggie, John Gerard, 14 Rumania, 168, 316, 334, 361 Salter, James Α., 354n Sanford, Terry, 295 Sargent, Howland, 153 Sarnoff, David, 98n Sathyamurthy, Τ. V., 28n, 316n, 337n Sauvy, Alfred, 232 Scandinavia, 125, 316, 332-33. See also country names Schmitter, Philippe C., 330n Schramm, Wilbur, 260 Schultz, Theodore W., 233 Schurmann, Carl W. A., 211 Schwebel, Stephen M., 293n sciences, 28f, 38, 43-52, 67-68, 78, 94-96, IlOfi, 174-79, 234-50; Arid Zones major project, 121, 123-24, 174-76, 191, 248, 331; biosphere, 234, 246ff, 266; conservation, 234, 240-41, 248; desalinization, 175; earth, 241-42, 248; ecology, 175; energy, 175, 234; hydrology and water use, 175, 191, 234, 239f; Hylean Amazon scheme, 120ff, 352;

380 sciences (cont.) Maheu's view of, 218; national science policies, 234; oceanography, 176, 234f, 242ff; outer space, 235; priority to, 237; private in­ terests and, 123; technology and, 234ff; tropical zones, 176; U.S.S.R. engaging and, 336; use of arable lands, 234 Scott, Andrew M., 304n secretariat, see staff Security Council, UN, 352. See also council segmentation, as attribute of international system, 345 Selznick, Philip, 137n Senegal, 251, 258, 354n setting and applying general standards, 52, 55, 64, 65f, 73ff, 98, 103, 108, lllf, 181f, 22 Iff, 223f, 225, 251, 258f, 269n. See also policy processes Sewell, J. P., 18n, 76n, 133n, 189η, 269n, 283n, 357n Seydoux, Roger, 169 Seymour, Richard, 34n, 38, 57 Sharp, Walter R., 345n, 349f, 351n Shatrov, B., 4-5 Shaw, Ralph, 124 Sheldon, Norman, 43, 44, 44n Shils, Edward, 100 Shuster, George N., 28n Silberstein, David, 129n Sisam, Kenneth, 46 Slavik, Juraj, 37 Smuts, Jan, 327 social sciences, 28, 38, 52ff, 99, 113f, 183-85, 262-65; bib­ liographic compilation, 103, 185; Evans and, 184; home and community planning, 102; Huxley on, 108; Italian

INDEX

response to, 331; Maheu and, 263-64; methodology, 103, 114, 185, 263-65; racism and, 52-54, 100, 184; study of international organization, 183f, 358; tensions, 102; Torres Bodet and, 183f; train­ ing international civil servants, 103 Socialist states, 334-36. See also country names socialization, of national repre­ sentatives, 315n, 335, 346, 350 Sommerfelt, Alf, 52f, 60, 65n South Africa, 60, 63, 65n, 127, 228, 326-28 Southeast Asia, 240, 243, 246, 326. See also country names Soviet Union, see Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (U.S.S.R.) Spain, 151f, 154f, 330 Spaulding, Seth, 229n Special Committee on Oceanic Research (SCOR), 244 Special Fund (SF), UN, see United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) special United Nations fund for economic development (SUNFED), proposed, 191 Spender, Stephen, 89, 90n, 113n Sri Lanka, see Ceylon staff, 15ff, 26f, 36n, 49f, 55, 59, 61, 64, 72ff, 77, 83ff, 88ff, 120, 123, 138, 142, 147, 156ff, 162ff, 168, 192, 204, 208, 216, 244, 248, 260, 268, 271, 286ff, 302, 306, 311f, 314, 335; national equity in appointments, regimen for, 288n; nationality, top spots, 314; rebellion of 1970, 268

INDEX

StafF Association, Unesco, 158 State Department, U.S., see Department of State, U.S. Stoddard, George, 150 Stoessinger, John G., 157n Stone, Harlan F., 42 stone soup, 303 strategies, 23-26, 244, 270, 279, 305, 310, 323; choice of, in engaging, 311 Strijdom, J. G., 328 Studebaker, John W., 40 substantive areas, international, 306, 307, 344; range of, 339, 342-43 Sudan, 209, 251f Suez crisis, 168 Sweden, 45, 250, 254, 281, 289, 332f, 334, 361f; U.S. and, 332; U.S.S.R. and, 332 Switzerland, 4, 45f, 76f, 154, 187, 261n, 316, 332, 362 symbiosis, 43f, 94, 95, 98, 102, 109f, 174, 183, 254, 259, 266; and leadership, 299ff Symonds, Richard, 343n Syria, 187 system, international, 24-26, 28, 279, 296, 307, 342; characterized, 339ff, 3483, 351; implications of, 345ff; of strengthened multilateral commitments, 353 tactical change, in engaging, 311 Tanganyika, 229, 241. See also Africa Tanzania, see Tanganyika tasks and task expansion, 91-92, 96, 107, 135f, 271, 282, 295f, 348ff, 359 Taylor, John, 156ff technical assistance, see field operations

381 technical self-determination, see leadership technological change, social implications of, lOlf, 191, 249f, 266, 343 technology, see under sciences Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre, 215, 218, 225 Thailand, 173, 258 Thames, Harold S. 180n, 291n Thomas, Albert, 19, 109, 267, 281, 286n Thomas, Jean, 28n, 96, 179, 209f, 214, 223 Thompson, C. Mildred, 47n Thompson, Charles Α., 28n, 138n, 174η, 180n, 317n, 326n Times, The, 192, 215, 241, 267, 318f, 320 Times Educational Supplement, 187 Timmermans, J., 45 Tinbergen, Jan, 349 Tito (Josip Broz), 330 Tobin, Richard L., 352n Torres Bodet, Jaime, 17, 29, 81, 12If, 128ff, 142ff, 163, 172f, 178, 183f, 186, 189, 191, 226, 229, 281, 287, 291, 293, 313, 332; style of, 144, 191 Toynbee, Arnold J., 84-85 trade relations, Unesco and, 322 transnational associations, 4, 6f, 16, 29, 33, 35fi, 43, 49, 5If, 102, 304n. See also nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) Tribe, Derek, 249 Trifounovitch, Milosh, 37 Truman, Harry S., 105, 140, 189 Tsien, T. D., 65n Turkey, 65n, 235, 312 Turner, Ralph E., 61, 187, 188

382 U.K., see United Kingdom Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, 167, 227f, 333, 334 Ulpiani, Celso, 331 UNCTAD, 282, 350 "Unescan," 138 Unesco, see participant and arena names Vnesco Courier, 250, 317 Unesco, overview of, 26 "Unesconian," 89 UNICEF (UN Children's Fund), 203-04 unilateralism, 16, 23, 26n, 34, 39f, 42, 42n, 43n, 81f, 98f, 125ff, 145f, 189, 202, 240, 244ff, 279, 281, 303, 308, 322, 326, 328, 348. See also strategies Union of Soviet Socialist Re­ publics, 4, 10, 41f, 42n, 59if, 65n, 71, 78, 81, 104, 139, 167f, 170, 181, 189, 191, 193, 206f, 212, 219, 227, 231, 235, 238f, 242, 244, 246, 266, 271, 289f, 312, 314, 333-37, 334, 336, 344, 348, 361f Unitas Fraturn, 51n United Arab Republic (U.A.R.), see country names United Kingdom (U.K.), 5, 9n, 34-71, 74, 80f, 84ff, 98f, 101, 104ff, 123, 125f, 153, 177, 187, 211, 235, 244f, 261n, 266, 287, 289f, 312, 314, 316ff, 327, 329, 334, 348, 361f; engaging in European Com­ munity, 11 United Nations (UN), as actor, 248. See also participant, arena, and agency names United Nations Conference on Science and Technology for

INDEX

Development (UNCSAT), 235ff United Nations Conference on Trade and Development, see UNCTAD United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), 202, 204, 205n, 216, 229, 238f, 242, 245, 256, 267, 282, 286, 300, 333f, 349f; pre-investment through Unesco, 285 United Nations economic develment agency (UNEDA), proposed, 191 United Nations Environmental Programme, 345, 352 United Nations International Children's Emergency Fund (UN Children's Fund), see UNICEF United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration, see UNRRA United States, 4, 10, 40n, 41f, 45-47, 56, 59S, 71, 75f, 78, 81ff, 90f, 97fi, 101, 104ff, 122f, 125ff, 131, 139ff, 153, 187, 192, 201, 205, 211f, 232, 237, 240, 244, 246, 255, 261n, 271, 312, 314, 316ff, 331, 334, 344, 348, 361£E United States Department of State, see Department of State, U.S. Universal Copyright Conven­ tion, see copyright law Universal Postal Union (UPU), 183 universalism, 23ff, 36f, 41, 48, 55, 64, 70, 99, 142, 151, 239, 244, 281, 303, 310, 322, 356. See also strategies

383

INDEX

university, United Nations, proposed, 92 UNRRA, 8If Unwin, Stanley, 39n Uruguay, 95, 154, 165, 171 U.S., see United States U.S.S.R., see Union of Soviet Socialist Republics vacuum, 9f, 326n, 335, 351. See also challenge Vaizey, John, 233 values, see goods Van Stuwe, J. R., 65n Vasconcelos, Jose, 129-30 Vaucher, P., 65n Venezuela, 174, 227 Venice, hydrological problems, 254f Vernon, Raymond, 340n Veronese, Vittorino, 17, 29, 166, 171, 192ff, 200, 206ff, 214, 217, 221, 227, 252, 254, 266, 287, 292f, 332 Verwoerd, Hendrik, 328 veto, exercise of, 288; lack of, 271 Vietnam, South, 151 Vinci, Leonardo da, 105 Vitray, Laura, 90n Voice of America, 146 voluntary associations, see transnational associations; nongovernmental organiza­ tions (NGOs) Walker, Ronald, 119f, 127ff, 183 Walsh, John, 236 Warsaw Treaty Organization (WTO), 21 Washington Star, 162 Weber, Max, 20, 280, 299

Welfare Council, UN, proposed, 350 Welles, Sumner, 56 Wells, H. G., 91, 99, 113, 132, 187 West New Guinea (West Irian), 211 Westphalian conception of international relations, 341 Wheeler, Mortimer, 266 Wildavsky, Aaron, 24, 295 Wilkins, Mira, 340n Wilkinson, Ellen, 78, 85 Wilson, Harold, 12f Wilson, Howard E., 82f, 92, 97,

106 Winant, John G., 61 Wolfers, Arnold, 341n Wolsky, Alexander, 243 women, see executive managers, women as; Political Role of Women Wood, S. H., 35 World Bank, see International Bank for Reconstruction and Development "World Brain," Unesco as, 132 world broadcasting, 98, 261n, 324 World Confederation of Organ­ izations of the Teaching Profession (WCOTP), 301 World Federation of Engineers, 239 World Food Programme (WFP), 204 World Health Organization (WHO), 18, 159, 248, 281, 333 world order, 4, 90, 282 Yoshida, Masao, 243

384 Young, Oran, 341η youth corps, international, 20Iff, 273 Yugoslavia, 36f, 60, 65n, 83, 140f, 146, 235, 242, 330-31, 361

INDEX

Zaire, see Congo Zavala, Sylvio, 187 Zimmern, Alfred, 54, 84-86, 102 Zoological Society, London, 87, 111 Zureik, Constantine, 187

BOOKS WRITTEN UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE CENTER OF INTERNATIONAL STUDIES PRINCETON UNIVERSITY Gabriel A. Almond, The Appeals of Communism (Princeton University Press 1954) William W. Kaufmann, ed., Military Policy and National Security (Princeton University Press 1956) Klaus Knorr, The War Potential of Nations (Princeton Uni­ versity Press 1956) Lucian W. Pye, Guerrilla Communism in Malaya (Princeton University Press 1956) Charles De Visscher, Theory and Reality in Public Interna­ tional Law, trans, by P. E. Corbett (Princeton University Press 1957; rev. ed. 1968) Bernard C. Cohen, The Political Process and Foreign Policy: The Making of the Japanese Peace Settlement (Princeton University Press 1957) Myron Weiner, Party Politics in India: The Development of a Multi-Party System (Princeton University Press 1957) Percy E. Corbett, Law in Diplomacy (Princeton University Press 1959) Rolf Sannwald and Jacques Stohler, Economic Integration: Theoretical Assumptions and Consequences of European Unification, trans, by Herman Karreman (Princeton Uni­ versity Press 1959) Klaus Knorr, ed., NATO and American Security (Princeton University Press 1959) Gabriel A. Almond and James S. Coleman, eds., The Politics of the Developing Areas (Princeton University Press 1960) Herman Kahn, On Thermonuclear War (Princeton Univer­ sity Press 1960) Sidney Verba, Small Groups and Political Behavior: A Study of Leadership (Princeton University Press 1961)

Robert J. C. Butow, Tojo and the Coming of the War (Princeton University Press 1961) Glenn H. Snyder, Deterrence and Defense: Toward a Theory of National Security (Princeton University Press 1961) Klaus Knorr and Sidney Verba, eds., The International Sys­ tem: Theoretical Essays (Princeton University Press 1961) Peter Paret and John W. Shy, Guerrillas in the 1960's (Praeger 1962) George Modelski, A Theory of Foreign Policy (Praeger 1962) Klaus Knorr and Thornton Read, eds., Limited Strategic War (Praeger 1963) Frederick S. Dunn, Peace-Making and the Settlement with Japan (Princeton University Press 1963) Arthur L. Burns and Nina Heathcote, Peace-Keeping by United Nations Forces (Praeger 1963) Richard A. Falk, Law, Morality, and War in the Contem­ porary World (Praeger 1963) James N. Rosenau, National Leadership and Foreign Policy: A Case Study in the Mobilization of Public Support (Princeton University Press 1963) Gabriel A. Almond and Sidney Verba, The Civic Culture: Political Attitudes and Democracy in Five Nations (Prince­ ton University Press 1963) Bernard C. Cohen, The Press and Foreign Policy (Princeton University Press 1963) Richard L. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties: Power in an Emergent African Nation (Princeton University Press 1963) Peter Paret, French Revolutionary Warfare from Indochina to Algeria: The Analysis of a Political and Military Doc­ trine (Praeger 1964) Harry Eckstein, ed., Internal War: Problems and Approaches (Free Press 1964) Cyril E. Black and Thomas P. Thornton, eds., Communism and Revolution: The Strategic Uses of Political Violence (Princeton University Press 1964)

Miriam Camps, Britain and the European Community 19551963 (Princeton University Press 1964) Thomas P. Thornton, ed., The Third World in Soviet Perspec­ tive: Studies by Soviet Writers on the Developing Areas (Princeton University Press 1964) James N. Rosenau, ed., International Aspects of Civil Strife (Princeton University Press 1964) Sidney I. Ploss, Conflict and Decision-Making in Soviet Russia: A Case Study of Agricultural Policy, 1953-1963 (Princeton University Press 1965) Richard A. Falk and Richard J. Barnet, eds., Security in Disarmament (Princeton University Press 1965) Karl von Vorys, Political Development in Pakistan (Prince­ ton University Press 1965) Harold and Margaret Sprout, The Ecological Perspective on Human Affairs, With Special Reference to International Politics (Princeton University Press 1965) Klaus Knorr, On the Uses of Military Power in the Nuclear Age (Princeton University Press 1966) Harry Eckstein, Division and Cohesion in Democracy: A Study of Norway (Princeton University Press 1966) Cyril E. Black, The Dynamics of Modernization: A Study in Comparative History (Harper and Row 1966) Peter Kunstadter, ed., Southeast Asian Tribes, Minorities, and Nations (Princeton University Press 1967) E. Victor Wolfenstein, The Revolutionary Personality: Lenin, Trotsky, Gandhi (Princeton University Press 1967) Leon Gordenker, The UN Secretary-General and the Main­ tenance of Peace (Columbia University Press 1967) Oran R. Young, The Intermediaries: Third Parties in Interna­ tional Crises (Princeton University Press 1967) James N. Rosenau, ed., Domestic Sources of Foreign Policy (Free Press 1967) Richard F. Hamilton, Affluence and the French Worker in the Fourth Republic (Princeton University Press 1967) Linda B. Miller, World Order and Local Disorder: The United Nations and Internal Conflicts (Princeton Univer­ sity Press 1967)

Wolfram F. Hanrieder, West German Foreign Policy, 19491963: International Pressures and Domestic Response (Stanford University Press 1967) Richard H. Ullman, Britain and the Russian Civil War: November 1918-February 1920 (Princeton University Press 1968) Robert Gilpin, France in the Age of the Scientific State (Princeton University Press 1968) William B. Bader, The United States and the Spread of Nuclear Weapons (Pegasus 1968) Richard A. Falk, Legal Order in a Violent World (Prince­ ton University Press 1968) Cyril E. Black, Richard A. Falk, Klaus Knorr, and Oran R. Young, Neutralization and World Politics (Princeton University Press 1968) Oran R. Young, The Politics of Force: Bargaining During International Crises (Princeton University Press 1969) Klaus Knorr and James N. Rosenau, eds., Contending Ap­ proaches to International Politics (Princeton University Press 1969) James N. Rosenau, ed., Linkage Politics: Essays on the Con­ vergence of National and International Systems (Free Press 1969) John T. McAlister, Jr., Viet Nam: The Origins of Revolu­ tion (Knopf 1969) Jean Edward Smith, Germany Beyond the Wall: People, Politics and Prosperity (Little, Brown 1969) James Barros, Betrayal from Within: Joseph Avenol, Secre­ tary-General of the League of Nations, 1933-1940 (Yale University Press 1969) Charles Hermann, Crises in Foreign Policy: A Simulation Analysis (Bobbs-Merrill 1969) Robert C. Tucker, The Marxian Revolutionary Idea: Essays on Marxist Thought and Its Impact on Radical Movements (W. W. Norton 1969) Harvey Waterman, Political Change in Contemporary France: The Politics of an Industrial Democracy (Charles E. Mer­ rill 1969)

Richard A. Falk and Cyril Ε. Black, eds., The Future of the International Legal Order, Vol. I, Trends and Patterns (Princeton University Press 1969) Ted Robert Gurr, Why Men Rebel (Princeton University Press 1970) C. S. Whitaker, Jr., The Politics of Tradition: Continuity and Change in Northern Nigeria, 1946-1966 (Princeton Uni­ versity Press 1970) Richard A. Falk, The Status of Law in International Society (Princeton University Press 1970) Henry Bienen, Tanzania: Party Transformation and Eco­ nomic Development (Princeton University Press 1967, rev. ed. 1970) Klaus Knorr, Military Power and Potential (D. C. Heath 1970) Richard A. Falk and Cyril E. Black, eds., The Future of the International Legal Order, Vol. II, Wealth and Resources (Princeton University Press 1970) Leon Gordenker, ed., The United Nations in International Politics (Princeton University Press 1971) Cyril E. Black and Richard A. Falk, eds., The Future of the International Legal Order, Vol. Ill, Conflict Management (Princeton University Press 1971) Harold and Margaret Sprout, Toward a Politics of the Planet Earth (Van Nostrand Reinhold Co. 1971) Francine R. Frankel, India's Green Revolution: Economic Gains and Political Costs (Princeton University Press 1971) Cyril E. Black and Richard A. Falk, eds., The Future of the International Legal Order, Vol. IV, The Structure of the International Environment (Princeton University Press 1972) Gerald Garvey, Energy, Ecology, Economy (W. W. Norton 1972) Richard H. Ullman, The Anglo-Soviet Accord (Princeton University Press 1973) Klaus Knorr, Power and Wealth: The Political Economy of International Power (Basic Books 1973)

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Sewell, James Patrick. UNESCO and world politics. Bibliography: p. Includes index. 1. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. I. Title. AS4.U83S43 341.7'67 75-3474 ISBN 0-691-05659-5