The basic issue researched in the book is the extent to which secretaries-general of the United Nations — Norway's Trygve Lie, Sweden's Dag Hammarskjöld, Burma's U Thant, Austria's Kurt Waldheim, Peru's Javier Perez de Cuellar, Egypt's Boutros Boutros-Ghali, and Ghana's Kofi Annan — acted as “moral authority.” The impact of each secretary-general's religious and ethical values on his politics and decision-making processes are studied in each case. In the first chapter (“Moral Authority and the UN Secretary-General's Ethical Framework”), the book's editor, Kent J. Kille, presents theoretical guidelines to which each of the contributors to the book worked to adhere.

Kille talks about an “inner code” and an “external context,” both of which influence the secretary-general's handling of the office. The inner code is a result of what Kille refers to as “environmental factors” — religion, education, family upbringing, and cultural environment — and “experiential factors,” based on personal history and experience. The external context consists of an “external code” that the secretary-general faces (e.g., the UN Charter), and the limitations of the international system, the structure of the UN, and political pressures.

The theory does not offer an entirely new perspective, but it does establish certain coherence among the 10 subsequent chapters. Kille's theory does contribute somewhat to the ongoing debate about the role of ethics and religion in international relations. It also helps us assess the importance of the secretary-general within the framework of the UN system, the role of religious and moral values in his/her actions, and the extent to which he/she can support the growth of a global ethical consensus.

Although the project is promising, the results are disappointing. In nearly all cases, little connection is established between a secretary-general's religious background and values and his/her decision-making. In Lie's case, religion provides only a “moral vocabulary.” In Hammerskjöld's actions, one can hardly see a “causal relationship” between religion and decision-making. The devoutly Catholic Waldheim was a pragmatist in office, and in de Cuellar's policies one finds no trace of religious influence. In the chapters on Boutros-Ghali and Annan, the argument presented is that religious background did have some impact on decision-making. When one looks at their policies, however, there is little that would distinguish them from other secretaries-general.

All the secretaries-general are depicted as highly moral and committed to a number of value systems: social democracy (Lie), liberalism (de Cuellar), equanimity, integrity, and humility (Thant), human dignity and humanitarianism (Annan), and democracy and international law (Boutros-Ghali). All of them were committed to the UN Charter, which is certainly a moral document.

The picture that emerges is too beautiful to be convincing. The chapter by Michael Kuchinsky on Waldheim is a prime example. How can one talk of Waldheim's “moral dimension” after the disclosure of Waldheim's Nazi past? How can one accept without any criticism Waldheim's assertion that Austria was Nazi Germany's first victim? How can one talk about Waldheim's role in the “removal” of more than 40,000 Jews from Salonica? Kuchinsky says that Waldheim “did not play an active part” in the tragedy of the Jewish population of Salonica, 40,000 of whom were shipped to Nazi death camps. Not merely “removal,” I would say; so how does one relate to Waldheim's passive role in the “removal?”

Other examples of moral white-washing are the chapters on Boutros-Ghali and Annan. Both played a role in the appalling behavior of the UN during the Rwanda genocide: Boutros-Ghali as UN secretary-general, and Annan as head of the UN peace-keeping operations. Neither man was able to prevent the genocide, although both knew what was happening. Both men refused to grant General Romeo Dallaire permission to employ UN forces against the perpetrators of the genocide or even against the Radio Télévision des Milles Collines, which incited the Hutu population to slaughter the Tutsis. Anthony Lang concedes that Boutros-Ghali's policy on Rwanda (and Srebrenica) was devoid of ethics, but he deals with this notion only briefly in his chapter. Were Rwanda and Srebrenica not the ultimate tests of his “moral authority?” In Courtney Smith's chapter on Annan, Rwanda is not even mentioned. Smith does say, however, that Annan believed in human rights and human dignity, and even in humanitarian intervention. The 800,000 slaughtered Tutsis saw none of this while Annan was in charge of the UN peace-keeping operations (and, indirectly, of the UN forces in Rwanda). Annan is lauded for his actions on Darfur; yet, he did not go out of his way to end a genocide that is still going on. Certainly, most of the blame lies with the Great Powers (especially China and Russia), but where was the outcry of the “moral authority” at the time?

In the book, all of the secretaries-generals are depicted as highly moral individuals. This is hardly convincing. After all, we are not talking of Martin Luther Kings. All of them had been politicians or bureaucrats before they became UN secretaries-generals. Much of what the authors write is based on publications by the secretaries-generals themselves or on interviews with their close collaborators. This is not a good enough basis for evaluating their “moral authority” objectively. Authors who viewed their subjects more critically would have made for a better book. The idea behind the book was laudable. It is a pity that the end result does not match the idea.