In the atmosphere of the many reforms we are subject to in the United Nations system, there is an abundance of self-critical literature that attempts to diagnose the system’s ills and mistakes. It is important to understand that, despite the uprightness of some of the authors, who are pleased to think that they have discovered THE cause of the system’s failures, more is needed. Arguments and testimonies need to be grouped and categorized before carrying out an in-depth analysis that will help us to understand the situation in its entirety.

The present article is yet another element of the reform movement, and is intended as another contribution to the edifice under construction. It is a purely empirical look at the facts, and does not assume to offer THE solution or even a direction which would assist in determining the answers. It is merely an account of personal experience over the past 20 years in one particular service of the United Nations. It may allow us to identify the pitfalls we could have avoided and to escape repeating some unhappy actions and hasty decisions. For if there is a certain pride in being the person who reveals a scandal, there is equal pride in being the bearer of good tidings. When we attend to the symptoms without having analysed the causes, we at best only make the situation worse. If it really is urgent to optimise the services delivered by the United Nations to the peoples of the Earth, it should not be done in haste, to use General de Gaulle’s famous phrase. We will limit ourselves to pointing out several errors of conduct with the hope that others will remember that "an overturned vehicle is a warning for those who follow".

More than twenty years ago, when I was recruited to the French Translation Section at the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) with its headquarters in Montreal, I was assigned immediately to a superviser. Let me explain, I was a P-2, I had just passed the entrance exam for the French Section, but my experience in the area of aeronautics was non-existent, or less. The Section Chief therefore decided that my texts should be reviewed by a reviser. This involved more than just revision: I also benefitted from the informed advice of an experienced elder. Today, the first question that comes to mind is: how did they pay for this luxury? The response: at that time, the French Section had twenty translators (some of whom were also employed as interpreters during certain periods), five of whom were revisers. There was thus a well-organised network of translators and revisers, at the head of which was a Section Chief.

This type of arrangement can only be reassuring for a young man of 28 years old who is experiencing work in a specialised institution for the first time. It should also be noted that we were two young people to enter into service on the same date: 14 October 1980. Both of us were the same age. Two greenhorns who were eager to learn and to become part of a team. And the doors were open to do so; the Section Chief was always available at the coffee breaks to meet with us in his office... most of the time to discuss lighter things, but also important work-related questions of terminology and others topics.

It was during one of these coffee breaks that the direction of my career was determined quite suddenly. There was a pile of some 6000 pages in my Chief’s office that we called the backlog. Having asked what it was, I saw myself being assigned this monstrous task... If I had not become the President of FICSA, I would still be working on it. For this document has since become one of the important publications of ICAO: Technical Instructions for the Safe Transport of Dangerous Goods by Air. I cite the name in its entirety to show the pride that I feel in having been associated since the beginning with this extremely useful work. I remind you, I was only 28 at the time... and I was assigned a truly essential task. At the risk of being ridiculed, I had the feeling that I was making my own contribution to the mission of the United Nations: to serve the interests of the peoples of the World. This opportunity motivated me for a long time. I remember certain meetings (which take place every two years) of the Group of Experts on Dangerous Goods (DGP) during which my reviser and myself were capable of working twenty-four hours straight to ‘deliver the goods’; I was so enthusiastic at that point that my colleagues called me ‘Mister Dangerous Goods’ or ‘Dangerous Expert’. I even went as far as applying for the post of Secretary of the DGP Group.

But the life of the section was made up not only of these moments of enthusiasm. In Translation Sections, we calculate our production in ‘translation page units’ (TPU). A TPU is equivalent to one 400-word page. Another way to evaluate the production of a language section is to establish the number of ‘jobs’ done at the end of the year. At the time, the number of jobs was around 2,500 annually. It is difficult to make an exact count of the number of TPUs, since each job had a different number of pages; but overall the average was the same. With 2,500 jobs during the year, the translators’ work was moderate and the revisers could reasonably carry out their task with the satisfaction of producing good quality work.

Among said revisers, there was keen competition because there was a reward for them at the end of the line: at the time there was a ‘principal reviser’ which allowed the happy selectee to become a P-5. It was also a way to prepare for the post of Section Chief, as the principal reviser was called on to replace the Section Chief in his/her absence, with full recognition, full title, among equals. The succession thus was always readied by the Section Chief with the support of the Assistant Director of the language service. In these conditions, not only could each person – from P-2 to P-5 – envisage a career progression, but also the training needed which would ensure the movement from one grade to another.

I could be accused of milking it and acting like retired colleagues who remember ‘their’ time as being the ‘good time’. I object to such an accusation. First because it was not ‘my time’: this is ‘my time’ because I am still in my job. Also, it was not the ‘good time’ because, for me, that is now. I have been given the privilege of working in the interests of all my colleagues in the United Nations system, and even for the unity of all international civil servants, both within and outside the United Nations framework. I bless the curse that fell upon me one March 1999 in London. I thank the ICAO administration from the bottom of my heart for having facilitated this arrangement. Since I know that few of my colleagues will have such an opportunity, even in a 30-year career, to expand their knowledge of the common system outside their own organization, their own service, or even their own cubicle.

There is thus no nostalgia in my words. I would like only to recall the facts and compare them to the hard reality of the present: the French Section in question now has only 8 translators, almost all P-4; they are not revisers because there is hardly any time or anyone to revise. A function has disappeared. And with it the post of principal reviser. The P-4s in post are now autonomous translators. Production has swelled. And it had to because the annual volume of work has grown to 7,000 jobs. The calculation is quickly done. Let’s average: half the translators, twice the work. Four times the amount for each translator. If we can even still call these piece-workers translators; a Section Chief has baptised them ‘polyglot scribes’. Taylor would be pleased by this mechanisation of human beings (UN Charlots). And with it a new spirit: cynicism as a way to combat depression. The favorite expression of the average translator who doesn’t have time to do any terminological research is "Shit in, shit out".

It is more than bravado. It is also an indication of what is happening upstream from translation. I don’t have any direct experience of what goes on there, but it requires attention. The texts sent to translation are often deplorable. That can be explained: my temporary functions allow me to speak with staff in many sections. Their opinions are the same: "Too much work, not enough fun makes Jack a dull boy", as Nicholson said in the film ‘The Shining’.

But I prefer to return to my first example and restrict myself to a circumscribed vision. I do not believe I can make general conclusions which will govern the fate of the United Nations. We should have understood that in the present situation – which is the same as in 1990 – no preparation for a changing of the guard nor any training worthy of the name are possible. In fact, it’s been donkey’s years since we’ve recruited any young blood. The average age of new recruits is well past forty. We no longer recruit at P-2, it goes without saying. In the French Section, there is only one P-3 who anyway does the same work as the P-4s. So we outsource to sponge up the overflow. The Section Chief manages the contracts; he calls systematically on those who have retired from the section, for want of a better solution. No changing of the guard is foreseen. The competition for Chief of Section is ferocious since there is no other chance for a career.

You can imagine the moral authority of a Section Chief in these circumstances! The only possible recognition he/she can expect comes from outside the section. To that end, he/she must respond to the expectations of the superiors who appointed him/her. This explains in part why the volume of work has reached such summits: it is unthinkable for the Section Chief to not give satisfaction. He/she must prove him/herself capable of facing up to ‘growth’. There was a time when some Section Chiefs – who had progressively risen from the ranks and thus acquired authority – could say ‘no’ when the limits were exceeded. Today, the sky is the limit. And in aviation, we know what freedom we have in the sky. From here to say that Section Chiefs have become yes-men and women, there is only one small step...

I have sadly gone beyond my limit. If you will allow me to extrapolate in the guise of a conclusion: in all the services of the United Nations, the situation is comparable with the one I have just described. I think notably about DPKO (Department of Peacekeeping Operations) in New York where the working conditions strongly resemble flight control towers. Only here, there are a lot of towers and little control. Nerves shatter.

I had dinner a while ago with a now retired high-level international civil servant who, after more than 20 years of a career spent juggling every salary increase, acknowledged that United Nations staff are underpaid by around 20% (this figure is his own of course). It’s regrettable, he admitted, but on the other hand this allows the UN to hire more staff. Given the situation at present, maybe we need to look again at the selection criteria foreseen by the Charter and decide on the aim of recruitment: quantity or quality?