On November 10, 1952, Trygve Lie surprised everyone by announcing his resignation. He wanted, he said, to hand the position over to someone who could have the united support of the membership. In those days candidates did not campaign for the office of Secretary-General as they now, regrettably, do, but were designated by the Security Council, and a prolonged search for a successor began. In March 1953 the Council announced its agreement on Dag Hammarskjold of Sweden.
Although he had had a distinguished career from an early age in Sweden, Hammarskjold was not widely known outside his own country. It was generally felt that he was a cautious, safe, and non-political technocrat who might heal some of the rifts that had appeared under Lie and would avoid controversial political actions. In this belief the distinguished permanent members of the Security Council were delightfully mistaken, for Hammarskjold was an exceptional man with a strong and independent sense of mission.
Hammarskjold's election gave the United Nations eight years of dynamic, and often visionary, leadership. His advent signified a turning point in the affairs of the UN at a time when several other developments also gave grounds for optimism. Eisenhower became President of the United States in January 1953, giving hope for an end to the Korean War. Stalin died in March. There was a new sense of international purpose in the air.
Dag Hammarskjold initially appeared as diffident, quiet, and youthful for his forty-seven years. His informality and modest manner concealed a strong and determined nature and an almost evangelic passion for his work-a passion which increased over the years as he identified himself more and more with the objectives and ideals of the Charter. It also concealed a remarkable intellect and an extraordinary talent for administration.
Taking over his new office with a minimum of fanfare, Hammarskjold set about tackling the immediate problems by making, as was his habit, an intensive intellectual analysis of them. He attacked the "loyalty" problem not only by a much firmer line with the American authorities, but by asserting his leadership over the staff and reformulating much of the basic philosophy of the Secretariat. He established a forward momentum by himself taking initiatives, instead of simply reacting to events. He also reorganized the administration with impressive energy and expertise, reducing the budget and redeploying the members of the Secretariat. His papers and statements on these matters are masterly monographs on administration and management. Unlike most such documents, they are stylish, simple, and readable.
I first met Hammarskjold in May 1953 at a dinner given by Gladwyn Jebb (later Lord Gladwyn), who was then British Ambassador to the United Nations. I do not recollect what we said, but he evidently decided after that meeting, perhaps also at the urging of Gladwyn, that he would move me into his immediate circle.
One of Hammarskjold's organizational changes brought two senior officials, the American and Soviet Assistant Secretaries-General, into his own office as his chief assistants for active political assignments. The top American official was Ralph Bunche, and Hammarskjold assigned me to him as his chief assistant. Bunche, who liked to do things on his own was not too keen on this arrangement at first, but he was soon reconciled and later came to like it. For me it was a summons back into the mainstream of UN political activity and effectively launched me on the work that I have been doing ever since.
My time with Bunche and Hammarskjold was by far the most rewarding experience of my career. Working up to fifteen hours a day and often through the night over a period of seventeen years, I must have spent more hours with Bunche than with anyone else in my life. It took time and effort to get to know him, to appreciate him and to gain his confidence and, ultimately, his friendship. I owe him an immense debt not only for that friendship but also for his example of integrity, clear thinking, and consistency, and for his demonstration of the art of negotiation.
Although I worked in Hammarskjold's office for eight years and saw a great deal of him, I never felt I knew him well. I doubt if more than a few Swedish friends ever really knew him-or he them. When I think of Hammarskjold-as I still often do, for he was the most memorable of men-the image of the unicorn comes to mind, an image which Hammarskjold himself uses in his book Markings. Although Hammarskjold was a public man of astonishing accomplishments, he had a striking innocence of mind and attitude and seemed remote from ordinary life. He exemplified the very Swedish characteristic of personal mystique-someone ostensibly private and mysterious who attracts constant attention and achieves great fame. He was the most unusual and striking personality I have encountered in public life
Hammarskjold was not an easy man. His relentlessly high intellectual and ethical standards made him intolerant of incompetence and impatient with slow or confused performance. He was at the same time shy but demanding, modest but arrogant, quiet but with a formidable capacity for anger and indignation. I do not think he was accustomed to dealing with people at close quarters, and he did not encourage intimacy or familiarity. Indeed those who attempted it usually suffered painful rebuffs. However, because his other qualities were so impressive, his aloofness seemed entirely natural.
There was, and is, am enduring rumor that Hammarskjold was homosexual, which in the 1950s was a far more sensational allegation than it would be now. I worked closely with Hammarskjold for eight years, as did many others. None of us ever saw the smallest evidence or justification for this story, which was assiduously peddled by people who did not know Hammarskjold and who, for one reason or another, resented him. Hammarskjold himself was fully aware of the gossip and wrote a haiku about it:
Because it did not find a mate
They called
The unicorn perverted.
My own impression was that Hammarskjold was unusually squeamish of all close personal contacts, was exceptionally jealous of his privacy, and could not envisage sharing his life with anyone else. I would guess that he was asexual, admittedly a rare condition. He was certainly a determined loner in his personal life. In Markings he himself, half disapprovingly, hints at a narcissistic tendency in his own character. There is nothing particularly novel or unusual about homosexuality, but the rumors about Hammarskjold have always struck me as vulgar, and sometimes self-serving, attempts to demean and diminish an exceptional and unusual person.
Hammarskjold was a deeply committed man. He believed in what he was doing in full knowledge of how difficult-even impossible-his task was. He knew more about each aspect of our work than we did ourselves and maintained a ruthlessly high standard of performance and behavior. He was supremely well-qualified in a wide variety of disciplines-law, economics, diplomacy, and politics in particular. It was both fascinating and challenging to work for him.
In his first year at the UN, Hammarskjold effected an extraordinary transformation both in the attitude of the Secretariat and in the renewed interest and respect with which governments and outside observers began to treat the UN. It was a triumph both of personality and of intellect. In the sometimes almost unbearable frustrations of later years, I have often recalled that time and that slight, indomitable, strangely innocent figure as a reminder of what can be done through leadership and commitment to an idea.
From A Life In Peace and War. Copyright 1987 by Sir Brian Urquhart, published by HarperCollins, New York. Reprinted by Permission.
