UNITING NATIONS IN A DIVIDED WORLD é o nome do livro escrito pelo ex-Secretário Geral da ONU, Ban Ki Moon. Neste livro é descrita em pormenor a sua visita aos campos de refugiados saharauis, assim como as suas impressões e a reacção posterior de Marrocos.
THERE ARE PEOPLE WITH WHOM YOU WILL NEVER AGREE
Western Sahara is a windswept desert on Africa’s Atlantic coast, beset by uncompromising heat, thick fog, and dust-filled siroccos that wrap the Sah- rawi people with stinging winds. Its hardships are evident, but the territory’s wealth is nearly invisible. Beneath the sands and sunbaked villages are some of the globe’s richest deposits of phosphate, a vital component of scores of products from toothpaste to chemical weapons. Recent exploration suggests the possibility of game-changing offshore oil as well.
The Moroccan government annexed Western Sahara in 19y5 when Span- ish colonial rule ceded the land to neighboring nations. Morocco has con- vinced Algeria and Mauritius to relinquish their claims, but that has not led to peace. Morocco has rejected international criticism for more than forty-five years, saying it cannot occupy land that is already Moroccan. The United Nations brokered a cease-fire in 1991, and the UN Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara (MINURSO) has been deployed there ever since, mandated to reduce tensions within Western Sahara and on its Moroccan border.
From the early days of my tenure, I had tried to go to Western Sahara to visit MINURSO and thank peacekeepers personally for their efforts. I also wanted to try to resolve the disputes between the Sahrawi Polisario gov- ernment and Morocco. But Morocco intentionally delayed permission to enter the y5 percent of the territory under its control, insisting that King Mohammed VI himself wanted to personally welcome me to Western Sahara but that my proposed dates were never convenient for him. Officials never offered alternatives times.
Near the end of my second term and frankly frustrated, I went to the region anyway. Wherever I travel, I make it a priority to visit refugee camps, and the Sahrawis’ conditions were inhospitable. They lived without relief from the blazing heat and abrading sandstorms. There is no arable land and no water, which rules out farming, firewood, and much of the hardscrabble economy. The people of Smara camp, like most of the refugees that have settled in the Tindouf area, must rely on foreign humanitarian assistance for all their needs, including food. The displaced are among the most vulnerable people in the world. My heart went out to the Sahrawi refugees, who live in terrible conditions with no end in sight. So many hundreds of children were born in these camps, and so many more would grow up here before the ref- erendum would finally be held.
One of my first stops was to be the 1y June School at the edge of the Smara refugee camp. A tight crowd of refugees was waiting for me, as many as twenty thousand people according to some estimates. They lined the road around my motorcade. I have visited refugee camps around the world, and with few exceptions, most are welcoming. But a great many men and women Smara refugees wanted me to see their anger. I saw their pent-up indignation at having to live in these rough camps, and their fury that the United Nations had failed to end their struggle against Morocco.
I was surprised and embarrassed to see so many angry young men hold- ing signs such as “No to 4o years of occupation!” and “UNfair!” I could hear the protesters chanting and shouting, some rushing up against the vehicle to show me pictures of bloody bodies. My security officers told me to stay inside the bulletproof car, and I did not argue. U.S. diplomat Christopher Ross, my personal envoy to Western Sahara, did get out to check the situ- ation. Meanwhile, stones began bouncing harmlessly but loudly against the reinforced doors and windows.
Algerian and UN security agreed that we had to cancel the visit, but I insisted that we proceed. We drove through the camp without stopping. More refugees surged toward our convoy, but we kept moving, driving quickly through a hellish vista of dirt and tarp tents surrounded by young children who should have been in school. I needed to make a quick decision whether to cancel this trip and return to the airport. But the tumult decided for us.
UN security officers and local law enforcement were running beside the car and hanging off the sides. It was chaos, and people crowded into the road to see what was happening. Upon the recommendation of Ross and my security officials, the meeting was canceled and we turned our convoy around. As the car picked up speed, two UN security guards who were swinging from the running boards fell away from the vehicle, landing hard. Mohammad Abdul Hussein hurt his shoulder and José Lawrence damaged his hand. I was horrified to discover later that they both would need months of physical therapy.
I was touring the region eighteen years after Kofi Annan’s 1998 visit, which took place near the beginning of his term. The Moroccan government had waited a long time between our visits, I thought, likely to avoid the attention that accompanies our travels. Despite my emotion and exhaustion, we pro- ceeded directly to the press conference that had been scheduled. “I was very saddened to see so many refugees and, particularly, young people who were born there,” I said in response to a reporter’s question. “The children who were born at the beginning of this occupation are now forty or forty-one years old.” “Occupation.” I knew the word was very sensitive to the Moroc- cans, but I was so moved by what I had experienced that afternoon and so emotional that I had spoken without censor. In fact, I had spoken the truth. My words were widely reported, and I immediately realized this would have serious repercussions. I alerted the UN press office, which quickly issued an official statement, with my approval, saying that the remarks were my own opinion and not the position of the United Nations. I doubted that would mollify the Moroccan government, and I was right. King Mohammed quickly denounced me and described the use of the word as “premeditated.” Ultimately, my visit to the region was counterproductive. King Mohammed chose to withdraw Moroccan peacekeepers from MINURSO and halt its $3 million annual payment. Its brief expulsion of dozens of international civil- ian staff severely curtailed the mission and was widely criticized. After I left the region, well-organized protests were staged throughout Morocco, com- plete with signs, loud shouting, and speakers to keep the crowd enthusiasticand angry. The Moroccans estimated the size of the protests, held in every city and major town, at more than one million people.
March 15, just days after I returned to New York, Moroccan foreign min- ister Salaheddine Mezouar came to visit me at the United Nations. I received him even though I knew he was in New York to protest my unintentional words, which he had done publicly many times already. But I was startled when he directed me to apologize to his government and King Mohammed. I would not. I told the foreign minister that in my decade of service to the United Nations I had never seen or even heard of such unacceptably rude behavior by any member state following a secretary-general’s spontaneous and genuine emotion. I also pointed out that I had already expressed regret. The UN press office issued another strong statement at my instruction conveying in barely diplomatic language my astonishment at statements made by Moroccan officials and my “deep disappointment and anger” over the demonstrations that targeted me personally. The statement also noted that such attacks were disrespectful to the secretary-general and the United Nations. My relationship with King Mohammed VI was not to be repaired.
In fact, Moroccan officials never fully recovered from my candor, but I was not sorry to have spoken the truth.
In November 2o16, just six weeks before my retirement, I visited Mar- rakech for a climate conference and met with King Mohammed in his palace. Our conversation was brief, polite, and superficial. I met the king again in December 2o1y, a year after my retirement, during the One Planet Summit in Paris. French President Emmanuel Macron hosted a luncheon, and it would have been awkward if we didn’t shake hands. So we did, politely and without much talk.
We may come across each other in the future, probably at a conference on climate change or youth initiatives. But I don’t know when, if ever, we will reconcile. We cannot reach people who don’t just disagree but also refuse to hear us. Nothing can be achieved with such people, and it is important to know when to just stop trying.
