The idea terrifies the Chinese, who think of Tibet when they hear it. It unnerves the Russians. "When we say Kosovo," Annan says by way of picking an example of how the world should step into emergent disasters, "they hear Chechnya." And it bothers the U.S. because, in Annan's view, the doctrine works both ways. Seeing a crime and failing to prevent it are as bad as committing the crime. But who in the U.S. wants to send troops parachuting into every flaming country on earth?

Annan's critics find his outlook naive. His aides even joke about his world view, calling it "Star Trek Planet," after the show on which Russians and Scots worked merrily on dilithium-crystal drives as their ship shot through space at warp speed. That world is as remote as transporter beams. Annan's critics also lash him for his willingness to "do business" with anyone. When he returned from negotiations in Baghdad in 1998 and mildly said he had "a good human rapport" with Saddam Hussein, the White House shrieked. Others said he sounded like Neville Chamberlain praising Hitler. Annan's very decency, some believe, stands in the way of his preventing the indecent acts he so badly wants to stop.

Is Annan's dignity really a disadvantage? Observe, for a moment, Annan in Ghana. His motorcade arrives at a local market, and he discovers, much to his delight, that the Ghanaian national soccer team is practicing nearby. So he strolls over to where a crowd has gathered, hoping to catch a few minutes of the scrimmage. It is not possible. The mob erupts when they see him, shouting and dancing. Annan's security guards quickly press him back into his car. They try to drive away, but the thick, gleeful crowd has the cars glued in place. The Ghanaians risk trampling one another in their eagerness to get close to Annan. "Hey, father!" they shout. "Father!"

When it is clear the motorcade is stuck and the scene outside is growing dangerous, Annan cracks open his door, steps into the mosh pit around him and begins to speak. He is not a man with a loud voice. In the noise of the crowd it is impossible to hear what he says, even from 4 feet away. He stands outside the car for 10 seconds, moving his mouth like a character in a silent film. And having seen him speak--not having heard a word he said--the rabid crowd calms and parts.

Ii. Awerehyemu (Confidence)
Madeleine Albright was yelling. Aides could hear her from several yards away as she berated Annan over the telephone. It sounded like a jackhammer crossbred with an opera singer. It went roughly like this: "THERE IS NO WAY THAT YOU ARE GOING TO DO THIS. NO WAY." Albright is a savvy diplomat, and the screaming was more of a debate tactic than anything else. (She says she never yelled at Annan. Their aides have a different recollection.) But though she was doing her best to stop him, Annan was going to negotiate with Saddam Hussein.

One of the problems of Annan's job is that everyone has an idea of what he should do. Annan listens eagerly to all of them (perhaps less eagerly when they are screaming) and does what he feels he must. In 1998, as Albright raged at him, the White House had wanted to send Saddam a message: he could choose between arms inspectors or bombs. Annan thought the choice absurd. "I worry about our Iraq policy," he said recently, using the our to reflect the international community. "We don't have one." What Annan did know was that innocent Iraqis were suffering as ineffectual U.N. sanctions hurt all the wrong people. And having seen Saddam face to face, Annan had a sense that bombs weren't the answer. Albright blasted him and told him not to forget how he got his job--a blunt reference to the fact that the U.S. had eased Annan in after despairing of working with his predecessor, Boutros-Ghali. But Annan wasn't playing that game. He did what he felt he had to. Says Albright today: "He feels his responsibility is to make sure always that there's peace, that you can work things out. We want peace too, but we have our national interests." >>MORE