Labo(u)r Day

For hundreds of years, before English took precedence, French was the international language of diplomacy. It was widely spoken by the educated wealthy class, and it also offers many avenues for nuance and subtext. This, of course, proves useful when negotiating sensitive issues across cultural lines (I’d imagine “pass the salt”could benefit from a linguistic massage if you’re negotiating the takeover of a salt mine at lunch).

This is one of many conversations I had (alas, in English) while visiting the ILO (International Labour Organization) last week.

The ILO is a specialized agency of the United Nations, along with others like the WHO (World Health Organization) and IMF (International Monetary Fund). As someone from the States working in the private sector, my impression of how the UN worked was painted in relatively broad strokes: founded at the end of World War II, the UN functions as a sort of “international good guy,” which was embodied by Kofi Annan (okay, and Dave Chappelle’s impression of Kofi Annan) for a number of my formative years. I knew the UN met in Geneva, that the US was a major player at the table and a chief source of funding for the UN (providing 22% of the annual budget, I now know). I’ll resist commenting on a sort of “international bad guy” pulling out of the Paris Climate Accords because… this isn’t a political blog.

One of the most fascinating days I’ve spent in Switzerland is getting a closer look at Palais des Nations (the Palace of Nations) that hosts the UN’s European headquarters, and in particular, the ILO.  As a writer that has reported on issues of socio-economic justice, mostly with seriousness, sometimes with a sense of humor, I had a keen interest in the workers’ rights advocacy that the ILO does. Fortuitously, my fiancé Andrew has a colleague named David with over 20 years experience at the ILO who was kind enough to show me around.

The ILO actually predates the UN—it was established as part of the Treaty of Versailles in 1919. That means, this year, it has been celebrating its 100th birthday. The building itself is soaring and eclectic, adorned with gifts from nations around the world, from a striking statue of a miner outside (a gift from Yugoslavia) to various totems, religious deities, carvings and tapestries inside. The feeling is like walking through a mosaic, both of geography and time.

David also served as the perfect tour guide, not only because he’s friendly and knew pretty much everyone, but he also offered a wealth of knowledge of the workings of the ILO and is a true cosmopolitan. A typical moment: David walks up to a sculpture gifted from Indonesia and begins reading the inscription aloud.

Me: Oh, wow, I didn’t realize you could read Indonesian. When did you learn?

David: I picked it up when I was doing research for my doctoral thesis and living with free-diving sea gypsies off the coast of Sulawesi.

Me: …

It actually makes perfect sense: David’s research was about the Bajau Laut people, known colloquially as sea gypsies, whose nomadic fishing lifestyle was leading to high casualties. As an occupational safety and health practitioner, David was researching ways to decrease casualties and increase safety and longevity for this particular group (forgive me David, I am sure this is a vast oversimplification).

That’s essentially the ILO’s job, internationally: looking out for the wellbeing of workers the world over. Their motto is “advancing social justice, promoting decent work.” (Kind of ironic I visited during the ILO during the first period that I have been unemployed since the age of 16.) They are the only “tripartite” UN agency, which means their decision-making body is equally comprised of workers, employers, and governments. It was a treat to get a peek into a few of their massive meeting rooms, with sound booths and seats for translators of myriad languages.

I also got to meet some of David’s former colleagues, who regaled us with tales of recent goings on at the ILO office in Bangkok, and enjoy a delicious soup made of carrots that I am confident were fair trade and lovingly harvested.

It prompted me to sign up for a guided tour of the UN Headquarters next week. It’s part of my ongoing informal education in order to graduate from “Sorry, she’s an American” to “Sarah, I didn’t realize you read Indonesian!”