But neither Israel nor Turkey glanced her way as they came in. Great Britain did, of course. But he was far too much of a pro to let her divine his intentions.
As the delegates settled down, the secretary-general called for attention. He looked out over the assembly, his expression one of grave reluctance. After the opening formalities, he said, “I am informed that the representative from Liberia wishes to be heard.”
Liberia? What the hell? She had unconsciously started to turn toward India, and caught herself just in time. She twisted the other way to see the ambassador from Liberia rising to his feet.
The Liberian ambassador was relatively new. She had met him twice, and each time he’d seemed a proud, somewhat distant man. Today, he was dressed in traditional garb. The lines were long and flowing, the colors vibrant in this somber, conservative setting.
Her earlier conversation with T’ing came back to her, and the different interpretations of her white dress. What should she divine from what the Liberian ambassador was wearing? In his culture, would he be considered conservatively dressed? Or were the colors somehow significant, intended to remind other nations of Liberia’s allegiances?
For just a moment, she felt hopelessly out of her depth. There was so much subtext that she should understand and didn’t.
But she had been the representative of the United Nations here for seven years. Seven years — long enough to understand that all nations had some basic goals on their minds. Long enough to understand that people around the world, despite their most profound cultural differences, all had certain things in common. And she had managed all right, hadn’t she? So why should she suspect now that she wasn’t — go ahead, say it — competent?
She wasn’t. No more than the other nations were competent to judge America’s resolve and intent. And, just in case there was any chance of misunderstanding, she would make certain that America’s position was eminently clear.
But what was America’s position? The president’s guidance had consisted up telling her to do her best. She decided that her duty now to her country was to use her best judgment, thinking on her feet and reacting immediately. Since America had no way of completely screening out every missile, every terrorist with a shoe bomb, and every radical arms militia with a small vial of deadly biological toxin, America’s best interest lay in a peaceful world. And, like it or not, resolutions by the United Nations provided a legal basis for America to intervene in most of the world.
Presumptuous? Quite possibly. America did not have answers for every part of the world. Indeed, if Wexler was certain of one thing, it was this: that peace had to come from inside a nation. It could not be imposed from without. The answers for the Middle East would not be the same answers for the fragmented former Soviet Union states. All America could do was stop a conflict and allow calmer heads to prevail in a region.
She took a deep breath, a feeling of calm descending. Whatever the challenge was, she would meet it to the best of her ability.
“Mr. Secretary General,” the Liberian began, speaking English with an odd overlay of French and British accents, “it is well known to us all that certain countries are not meeting their financial obligations to this body. I do not need to mention any names. There are several countries, for whatever reason, in this category.”
Interesting approach. I wonder what is behind it? Surely he has been pressured to denounce the United States in particular. Is he crafting a defense just in case we win? Or is there another message in this?
“It is understood, by some of us more than others, that the ravages of war, famine, and civil unrest can wreak havoc on even the most stable economies. Allowances must be made, compassion extended. And yet, do not all nations benefit if we function as we should? Is not the United Nations the source of food, relief, and assistance in maintaining civil order? Yes, of course it is. All of us recognize that. And therefore, we must come to a balance between compassion and holding nations accountable. Therefore, I call on the Security Council to appoint a special committee to examine this issue.”
Now, that’s not so bad. A special committee — I can live with that.
“And, pending the resulting committee report,” the Liberian continued inexorably, “I suggest — no, I move — that we suspend membership in United Nations for all those members which are delinquent on dues.” As he delivered this coup de grâce, the Liberian turned to face Wexler.
Wexler resisted the impulse to bolt to her feet and begin protesting. Instead, she took a moment to confer with her staff, as though all this was entirely expected, and then rise to her feet in a dignified manner. “Mr. Secretary-General, I must admit that I believe my country will fall into this category.” Must admit, hell. Everyone knows we’re behind. “I will not presume to speak for the other nations that may or may not lack the capacity to meet their obligations. And in truth, I cannot stand here and assure you that promises have been made to rectify this unfortunate situation immediately.”
A murmur of surprise swept through the room, followed by a few acerbic comments. Wexler ignored them and continued. “However, I must tell you that if the United States is restrained from participation in the United Nations’ deliberations, then we would have few options in regards to continuing support on ongoing resolutions.” She paused to let that sink in and continued, “Foreign aid. Military assistance. Peacekeeping forces. Humanitarian relief operations. Rescue-at-sea patrols. International research stations, and flights to and from them. These are but a few of the activities that would be under immediate scrutiny.”
Now the comments were louder and angrier, and several delegates from strife-torn nations looked stricken. She felt a flash of pity for them. What she was threatening could bring their entire worlds crashing in on them. She tried to stay focused on what she needed to achieve.
“Is that a threat?” someone shouted. She turned to survey the crowd but could not determine who had said it.
“No threat,” she said calmly. “Just the natural consequences of withdrawing from United Nations participation. Now,” she said, spreading her hands apart, palms up, in a gesture of reconciliation, “I do acknowledge that these issues must be addressed. And immediately. I can pledge my best efforts toward resolving them. Because I agree with the ambassador from Liberia. We must find that balance. And, as one of the founding members and home country of this organization, my country must set an example for others.”
“And why haven’t you paid your dues?” the secretary-general asked.
“I don’t know.” The murmurs and comments stopped at her frank admission. “Most of you understand the bicameral nature of our political process. The budget bill necessary to bring our dues current has been passed. It has not yet been funded. I cannot tell you when that will occur. You understand, of course, that I work for the executive branch. This is in the hands of the legislative branch at the moment. I will do everything in my power to see that this is resolved at the earliest possible time, but our doctrine of separation of powers precludes direct interference.”
The silence continued for several moments, and whispers among ambassadors and their staffs began to crescendo. Wexler remained standing a moment longer, then said, “Thank you, Mr. Secretary-General. The United States, of course, will vote against this motion, and we urge other nations to do so as well.”