inside the glass house
by thalif deen
10th March 2002
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Cash-strapped talking shop tightening its belt

NEW YORK— When Reverend Canaan Banana was president of the Republic of Zimbabwe in the early 1980s, his last name lent itself to a string of irreverent jokes in the world of diplomacy.

But the former British colony of Rhodesia was never categorised as a "banana republic" because its political sentiments were mostly anti-Western and anti-British— and rarely pro-American.

However, one of the anecdotes circulating in newspaper offices in the capital of Harare was a fictitious government circular which warned journalists never to describe talks between Banana and visiting heads of state as "fruitful".

In diplomacy, words are chosen with meticulous care, but most of the time they hide a multitude of political sins— or just mean zilch.

Last week, Iraq and the United Nations began talks in an attempt to resume UN arms inspections to ferret out weapons of mass destruction the sanctions-hit country is said to be hiding.

At the end of the closed-door talks, Iraqi Foreign Minister Naji Sabri al-Hadithi described the meeting in typical diplomatic jargon: "constructive and positive".

But for most newspapermen the hidden message read: "We didn't scream at each other. We were polite and civil because we were their guests".

UN spokesman Fred Eckhard preferred to call the talks "frank and useful".

Translated into political reality, it could only mean: "We got them to pay attention to us, but we couldn't twist their arms because they were bigger made than we were."

But in the end, neither party said anything revealing forcing UN correspondents to use their heavily fertilised imaginations to figure out what went on behind-the-scenes and put their own spin on stories.

Perhaps there may be a political breakthrough when the talks resume in mid-April. But we are not holding our breath on that one.

The United Nations, after all, has been best described as the world's biggest talking shop.

The institution, which on an average produces over 700 million printed pages every year, was also hit last week by an austerity drive.

Faced with a cash crunch, the Secretariat decided to slash some $75 million dollars in operational expenses in New York.

The cuts, which include a ban on all after-hours meetings, have triggered strong protests from the Group of 77, a coalition of 133 developing nations.

Speaking on behalf of the Group, the largest single political body at the United Nations, Eva Silot Bravo of Cuba, told the Administrative and Budgetary Committee that the cutbacks were "unacceptable."

She was particularly critical of limits placed mostly on meetings of UN committees and regional groups, which will no longer extend beyond 6 pm.

"We want all services directly affecting member states restored immediately," she demanded.

With several summit meetings scheduled to take place this year, the restrictions on meetings was taking on a political dimension, she complained.

Joseph Connor, Under-Secretary-General for Management says the austerity measures are necessary to conform to provisions in a zero-growth budget.

Since there will no staffers— including interpreters— working overtime after 6 pm, no meetings will be held in the evenings or on weekends.

The exceptions will be meetings of the Security Council, the only UN body with powers to declare war and peace, and also plenary meetings of the General Assembly.

Beginning last week, even heating in the 39th storeyed building has been kept at a minimum. So will air-conditioning — particularly after 5 pm weekdays and throughout weekends — during summer months.

Syrian delegate Abdou al-Moula Nakkari complained that it was comical to see member states arriving at meetings with their overcoats on. As a result of the new measures, even the pitcher water supply to conference rooms has been discontinued forcing delegates to search for drinking water fountains scattered throughout the building.

Secretary-General Kofi Annan and diplomats representing 189 member states will also have to forego one of the minor luxuries of life in the glass house: elevator operators and coat attendants. Both services have been discontinued "with immediate effect."



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