For the holiday season

Time, Place

At this time of year in 1957, Dag Hammarskjöld made two concluding entries—one could say, side by side—in his private journal. The first, written during a rare few days in his native Sweden, reflects with dry wit the absurdities of political life. The second was written just two days later though far from Sweden, in the Gaza Strip where he flew to spend Christmas with the UN peacekeeping force on duty there. Always sensitive to the natural setting, he must have discovered in the beauty of the desert a religious reminder. And so we meet this man again, unafraid of action, unafraid of contemplation.

The next edition of this online exploration will publish just after the New Year. As he wrote to a friend earlier in 1957: ‘You cannot both fight at the front line and see the battle in perspective. But a week in Paris could correct that.’

Warm holiday wishes to Dag Hammarskjöld’s readers.

Hammarskjöld wrote:

The madman shouted in the market place. No one stopped to answer him. Thus it was confirmed that his thesis was incontrovertible.
(Markings, 161)

In Thy wind—in Thy light—
How insignificant is everything else, how small are we—
And how happy in that which alone is great.
(Markings, 161)

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About evil: Hammarskjöld’s insights (3)

Time, Place

Writing or speaking to trusted friends, and in the privacy of his journal, Dag Hammarskjöld recorded his understanding of evil in a more richly personal way than in public talks. About evils encountered in the course of his work as secretary-general, he had a wide range of attitudes: cutting, ironical, witty, coolly observant, combative, sad nearly beyond words. Some of that is evident this week. But there was another dimension, internal. He kept close watch on himself.

About his experience of the United Nations, Dag Hammarskjöld was endlessly interesting. The following two extracts from letters reflect his private impressions, respectively at an early stage when everything was new and during the Suez crisis and its aftermath:

Of [the UN] I somehow cannot tell. It remains too preposterous—both evil and encouraging. The Thousand and One Nights—but the Thousand and One Nights with the Sermon on the Mount as a counterpoint. No, you cannot understand me; this must sound quite mad and still it is true.
(Letter to a friend early in his tenure as secretary-general)

One of the lasting experiences from the last months and weeks is that, with our so-called rising civilization, we do in no way see a decline in the art of lying. The modern media of communication, the modern entanglement of interests all over the world, have opened a door to a paradise for those who fight with words representing mala fide assumptions, false presentations, invidious comments, outright slander—and so on. If I were Hieronymus Bosch, I could paint a beautiful triptych in the colors of Hell and in celebration of this new great Harlot.
(Letter to Bo Beskow, March 1957)


The Congo crisis of 1960-61 was an out-and-out nightmare. Rumors swirled, of course—including one about which Hammarskjöld’s pungent comment remains on record. Antoine Gizenga was a Congolese political leader loyal to Patrice Lumumba and, obviously, critical of Hammarskjöld’s role in the Congo.

The Gizenga campaign included the rumor that Hammarskjöld was working for Belgium because King Baudouin’s mother was a Swedish princess. Hammarskjöld characterized this slander as an ‘illustration of political life in a world of stupidity abused by evil.’
(Urquhart, 421n)


Toward the end of his life, when the Congo crisis had worn thin his native optimism, Hammarskjöld was asked by his close friend, the artist Bo Beskow, how he was seeing things. The question was apparently something of a ritual between them. Hammarskjöld’s answer was altogether memorable:

I asked as I used to do on meeting him again, ‘Do you still have faith in man?’ Meaning the individual on his own, not in mobs or masses or political parties. Dag had always up to then answered positively, but this time he looked sad and pensive and he said, ‘No, I never thought it possible, but lately I have come to understand that there are really evil persons—evil right through—only evil.’
(Beskow, 181)

As noted earlier, Hammarskjöld kept close watch on himself. He often enough said in public talks that self-knowledge is crucially important for those—diplomats or others—who wish to contribute to what he called ‘peace and reason’ in the world. In his private journal, Markings, he recorded an insight that requires no commentary:

We can reach the point where it becomes possible for us to recognize and understand Original Sin, that dark counter-center of evil in our nature—that is to say, though it is not our nature, it is of it—that something within us which rejoices when disaster befalls the very cause we are trying to serve, or misfortune overtakes even those whom we love.
Life in God is not an escape from this, but the way to gain full insight concerning it. It is not our depravity which forces a fictitious religious explanation upon us, but the experience of religious reality which forces the night side out into the light….
(Markings, February 24, 1957, 149)

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About evil: Hammarskjöld’s insights (2)

Time, Place

In summer 1954, Dag Hammarskjöld gave a notable talk to a gathering of the World Council of Churches, at Evanston, Illinois. Just as he met academic groups with zest—he was at home in university settings—he also met religious groups as a kindred spirit. At Evanston his hosts asked whether he needed background information about the World Council. He laughed and said no, that wouldn’t be necessary—as their organization was a successor in an ecumenical movement founded in his Swedish hometown by one of his boyhood mentors, Archbishop Nathan Soderblöm. The passage here from Hammarskjöld’s talk is a little long but there are no wasted words. Toward the end he finds his way, as you’ll see, to a pure Hammarskjöldian theme.

Dag Hammarskjöld said:

When we go beyond the great social and economic trends to the underlying ideological tensions, the contribution that the United Nations can make is…limited. Faithful to its ideals, impartial in the clashes of interest, and with patience and perseverance, it can be one of the focal points for the hopes of all those who honestly work for peace. It can help to justify their patience. But the very nature of the Organization makes it inadequate as a means of influencing those basic attitudes which are decisive in the battle for the hearts of men. The impact of its actions and attitudes can only be a very general one…. A war to be fought in the hearts of men can be waged by those speaking directly to men. It is here that I see the great, the overwhelming task of the Churches and of all men of good will of every creed in the work for peace. Their vital contribution to this work is to fight for an ever-wider recognition of their own ideals of justice and truth.

However, they also have the power to show men the strength—so necessary in our world today—that follows from the courage to meet others with trust. We have seen how out of present-day conflicts and the underlying tensions have grown a widespread state of fear and frustration, of distrust and desperation. This is, as we all know, in itself a source of evil. It maintains an atmosphere in which unbalanced reactions may suddenly release the explosive power of the forces which we have to master. In the face of this development, we have reason to remember the truth that he who fears God will no longer fear men.

In speaking for justice, truth, and trust in public affairs, the Churches may be a decisive force for good in international and national political life, without assuming a political role or trying directly to influence political decisions….

In the Sermon on the Mount it is said that we should take no thought of the morrow—“for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Can anything seem farther from the practical planning, the long-term considerations typical of political life? And yet—is this not the very expression of the kind of patience we must all learn to show in our work for peace and justice? Mustn’t we learn to believe that when we give to this work, daily, what it is in our power to give, and when, daily, we meet the demands facing us to all the extent of our ability, this will ultimately lead to a world of greater justice and good will, even if nothing would seem to give us hope of success or even of progress in the right direction.

Certainly, the words about the evil of the day and the things of the morrow do not mean that our actions should not be guided by a thoughtful and responsible consideration of future consequences of what we do. But they do mean that our work for peace should be pursued with the patience of one who has no anxiety about results, acting in the calm self-surrender of faith.

(PP II, 1954, 354-56)

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