In news that will shock precisely no one who has ever glanced at a government ledger or attempted to decipher a public policy mandate, Michelle Bachelet, former president of Chile and perennial international do-gooder, has gracefully exited the increasingly farcical race for UN Secretary-General. One can almost hear the sigh of relief from anyone who understands that more government, no matter how "global," rarely translates to more liberty.
Bachelet's withdrawal, prompted by a rather telling collapse of support in the Security Council straw poll, means she'll continue her "international work" with the "same determination as always." One must wonder what, precisely, this "international work" entails beyond a ceaseless pursuit of committee meetings, vaguely worded resolutions, and an ever-expanding budget for an organization whose primary output seems to be paper. Perhaps she'll take up competitive knitting; at least that produces something tangible.
The UN, bless its bureaucratic heart, has always struck me as the international equivalent of that well-meaning but ultimately meddlesome aunt at Thanksgiving dinner. Full of grand pronouncements and unsolicited advice, yet curiously ineffective at actually clearing the table or settling family squabbles. The Secretary-General, in this analogy, is merely the one tasked with dictating which fork to use for the cranberry sauce. The position carries immense symbolic weight, certainly, but its actual power to shape global events, particularly when those events involve actual state sovereignty or self-interest, is about as substantial as the paper upon which their multitudinous declarations are printed.
Indeed, the very concept of a "global leader" for an organization that purports to unite sovereign nations is a fascinating oxymoron. It's a bit like appointing a global CEO whose decisions can be vetoed by any major shareholder, and whose operational budget is subject to the whims of every minor stakeholder. The entire edifice, as Friedrich Hayek might have noted, is an exercise in "the fatal conceit" – the belief that human reason can design and control complex social systems from the top down.
Bachelet, with her background as a socialist president and a former UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, is precisely the kind of individual one expects to find circling the UN's revolving door. Her career path has been a masterclass in navigating the corridors of power, both national and international, always in pursuit of more centralized control and expanded governmental reach. That she couldn't even rally enough support within the Security Council – itself a highly exclusive club of nation-states, some of whom are notorious for their disdain for individual liberty – speaks volumes not about her capabilities, but about the inherent friction in trying to impose a unified vision on a diverse world.
The remaining candidates, whoever they may be, will no doubt continue to espouse platitudes about peace, security, and sustainable development. These are noble goals, to be sure, but the mechanisms by which the UN pursues them – often through vast, convoluted programs funded by taxpayer dollars from member states – tend to be less about fostering organic solutions and more about expanding the administrative state. It's a classic case of confusing activity with achievement, and process with progress.
So, while the pundits will dissect what Bachelet's withdrawal means for gender equality in international leadership or the geopolitical balance of power, I see it as a small, quiet victory for common sense. One less central planner in a position of global influence, one less voice advocating for an ever-larger, ever-more intrusive international bureaucracy. The world, in its messy, decentralized, and wonderfully inefficient way, will continue to turn. And perhaps, just perhaps, it will do so a little more freely without another grand architect attempting to design its every cog.