Conclusion

The extreme and pervasive poverty that exists in the world today is an affront to social justice. It violates fundamental principles of secular and religious beliefs in most if not all societies; and in a globalised world that possesses immense wealth and resources, this is one of the greatest moral challenges facing our generation. But there seem to be both political and practical impediments to the situation being improved. The former is a reluctance on the part of the rich (in both advanced and developing economies) to make any substantial sacrifice; the latter is the inefficacy of the aid system. Unfortunately the latter compounds the former: the willingness of the rich to give is severely reduced by their observation that the funds that are provided through the aid system are not well used. But why is the sheer moral force of the injustice not sufficient to overcome these barriers? What, more specifically, hinders global organisations which are charged with reducing world poverty from making a better job of it? To adequately describe how outrageous the situation is, two points should

be emphasised. The first is to underline the extent of asymmetry that exists in the world in terms of economic well-being; the richest 5 per cent of people receive as much of the world’s income as the poorest 80 per cent; and according to Milanovic (2005) the situation has been getting worse.1 The second is to point out that while the numbers living in extreme poverty are enormous (about 1 billion people on incomes of under one dollar a day), the scale of the required transfer of funds from the rich is very modest – only about 1 per cent of their incomes (Pogge 2008). This is not an excessively high target; indeed, it has already been reached by the Scandinavian countries.2 To claim that the rich cannot afford the sacrifice is therefore absurd. But experience over several decades of development assistance has shown that even where there is a willingness to provide aid, it is difficult to do this in an effective way. And it appears that a major hindrance to the redistribution of resources is the role played by sovereign states. The situation is now very different than it was a century ago. At that time,

people in rich countries did not, in general, consider that they had a moral responsibility to the poor beyond their borders – but at most towards their own compatriots. Today, many people in rich countries do consider that they

have a moral responsibility towards the poor of the world. But in the absence of some sort of global government this is merely rhetorical; there is no effective means of bringing about global justice. The existence of sovereign states acts as an impediment to effective reme-

dial action, because while rich countries rail against the inequality within poor countries, the governments of poor countries can respond by railing against the inequality between rich and poor countries. A sort of moral stalemate is reached. (To make things more complicated, global elites in the South and the North align their interests, protecting the ‘system’ at the expense of the poor.) As noted in Chapter 2, under the ‘grand bargain’ of the post-war inter-

national economic system of ‘embedded liberalism’, ‘societies were asked to embrace the change and dislocation attending international liberalization, but the state promised to cushion those effects by means of its newly acquired domestic economic and social policy roles’ (Ruggie 1997: 5). But this system manifestly fails; the poorest nations of the world have become increasingly ill-equipped to ‘cushion these effects’. In the continuing conversation between rich and poor countries, one

observes a continuous ‘passing of the buck’, in moral terms: rich countries are accused of imposing international rules of the game that favour their own interests, while poor countries are accused of incompetence and corruption in the management of their affairs. In order to break out of this impasse, we argue, it is necessary to think through the implications of accepting a cosmopolitan world order; to accept the consequences of all people being ‘citizens of the world’ in a moral, if not a political sense. A major claim that we have made in this book is that the existing multi-

lateral development institutions could play a central role in making this cosmopolitan world order a reality. So far, however, they are falling far short of the mark. In this book, we have examined what some selected multilateral agencies are saying and doing in the face of this situation – and the gap between word and action. It is revealing here to refer to the controversial initiative examined in

Chapter 6 – the ‘Poverty as a Violation of Human Rights’ project of UNESCO. The initiative was resisted by powerful interests that sought to stifle it. Why are such ideas regarded as so dangerous? And what does such an example tell us about the multilateral system itself? One conclusion from our case studies is that staff of international organi-

sations are often more radical than are the organisations themselves; more willing, or even eager, to reveal and seek to counter what they see as global injustice. They can, and often do, achieve something by operating by stealth – ‘under the radar’. But could more progress be made if ethical debate was actively encouraged within these institutions? A major contribution that could be made by ethical analysis and the language of human rights is to provide the basis for an alternative knowledge for development centred on the equal moral worth and dignity of all human beings, thereby

also influencing the goals and policies of multilateral institutions. Ethicists could interact with other experts in the same way that experts in medical ethics work with medical doctors; and a human rights approach could lead to fundamental changes in the ways multilateral agencies see their role, their expertise and their responsibilities – and hence in the ways in which they use their power. In international organisations, and bureaucracies in general, ideas are

meant to bring enhanced intellectual understanding. But we would argue that ideas can also motivate; ideas can be powerful if they link up to fundamental ethical concerns. The language of human rights and global justice promises much in this regard; but our case studies cast a damper on such hopes. The language of responsibility seems to be absent – bypassed, or simply avoided. This book arises in part out of a frustration with this experience; with the failure of the rhetoric of global justice surrounding the Millennium Goals and the mainstreaming of human rights in the UN system to be matched by requisite action. But this frustration is shared by many who work in these international organisations, and one can hope that it will encourage them to challenge rather than accept the unspoken, unwritten constraints that so powerfully limit their freedom of thought and action. For that reason, although we are quite critical of the organisations we have examined, we are heartened by the views expressed by many of the staff that we have spoken to in connection with our study. If global justice is to be achieved, it will ultimately be as the result of people such as these; and despite, perhaps, the governments that created and now sustain the global organisations in which they work.