Multilateralism is under strain. Trust between states is eroding, institutions are questioned, and negotiations too often end in paralysis. In many conference rooms today, one senses fatigue and frustration. The temptation is strong to blame structures, mandates, or geopolitics. Yet experience shows that while institutions are indispensable, deadlocks are rarely broken by institutional reform alone. They are broken by people, by process, and by the quality of human relations.
This conviction was forged during my diplomatic career in the mid-1990s in Geneva. In September 1995, the 26th International Conference of the Red Cross and Red Crescent was about to open. Four years earlier, the previous conference in Budapest had been cancelled at the last moment because of political tensions. That failure still weighed heavily on the movement. Once again, unresolved political issues threatened to derail the process. Positions had hardened. Delegations were under pressure. The diplomatic community in Geneva was tense and divided. Formally, everything was ready. Politically, nothing was.
Although the conference did not belong to the United Nations system, its dynamics were immediately familiar to anyone working in multilateral diplomacy. States with conflicting agendas, humanitarian principles under political pressure, and an institution struggling to preserve its convening power. What was at stake was not only the success of one conference, but confidence in multilateral cooperation more broadly.
The decisive moment did not come in plenary. It came, as it so often does in Geneva, in the corridors.
In a series of quiet conversations, often informal and sometimes improvised, representatives of key delegations and colleagues from the ICRC and IFRC secretariats began to explore what was still possible. Not what would sound principled in a formal statement, but what could work in practice. The atmosphere was discreet and pragmatic. Listening mattered more than speaking. Words were chosen with care. Timing was crucial.
What gradually emerged was a compromise that did not resolve all underlying differences, but reopened the process. It allowed delegations to move forward without losing face. Just as importantly, it was crafted jointly by Member States and international staff. The solution was not imposed. It was co-owned. Responsibility was shared. No one claimed victory, but everyone accepted ownership.
Looking back from today’s perspective at the United Nations, the substance of a compromise clearly matters. But the way it is achieved matters just as much. Trust among colleagues, diplomats and international staff alike, was the foundation. That trust had been built long before the crisis, through regular contact, professional respect, and a realistic understanding of each other’s political and institutional constraints. When the moment of deadlock arrived, those relationships made flexibility possible.
This experience taught me how central the personal factor is in multilateral diplomacy. Institutions provide the framework, but it is individuals who decide whether to escalate or de-escalate, whether to hold the line or to explore alternatives, whether to block a process or to keep it alive. In Geneva, where delegations and UN staff work side by side over many years, this human dimension is not a luxury. It is a decisive operational asset.
Equally important is the quality of cooperation between country representatives and international civil servants. When that relationship becomes purely transactional, processes stall. When it is based on mutual confidence, discretion, and professional integrity, the United Nations can play its most valuable role: that of honest broker, facilitator of solutions, and guardian of fragile processes.
These Geneva lessons stayed with me.
They later informed my broader reflection on governance and diplomacy, including the practical diplomatic toolkit I present in my book Dare We Hope? Building Lasting Peace. The central message is simple: without sustained attention to process, trust, and inclusion, even the best-designed negotiations risk failing, or producing outcomes that change little on the ground.
Today’s multilateral challenges are more complex and more polarized than those of the 1990s. Power politics has returned with force. Yet the Geneva lesson remains valid. When formal channels are blocked, progress often begins quietly. In the corridors, in personal exchanges, and in the shared commitment of diplomats and international civil servants to keep talking when walking away would be easier.
For younger UN staff and diplomats, this is not a message of nostalgia, but one of confidence. Multilateralism is not saved by grand speeches. It is sustained every day by professionalism, patience, and moral courage, shown by those who invest in relationships, protect the process when it comes under pressure, and believe that cooperation remains worth the effort.
When multilateralism works, it rarely makes headlines. But it works because people make it work. And that remains one of the most demanding, and most meaningful, callings of international public service.