Online Reporter
Gibson Mhaka
Zimpapers Politics Hub
FOR an organisation that has spent eight decades preaching equality, human rights and inclusion, the United Nations carries an uncomfortable contradiction at the very top of its own hierarchy.
Since its establishment in 1945, the world body has had nine substantive secretaries-general, from Norway’s Trygve Lie to the incumbent António Guterres of Portugal and every one of them has been a man.
Now, as Mr Guterres prepares to leave office at the end of this year, that 80-year-old glass ceiling is facing its most serious challenge yet.
Five of the eight candidates in the 2026 race are women.
That is not merely a statistical curiosity.
It could represent the clearest opportunity in the history of the United Nations for a woman to occupy its most powerful diplomatic office.
But while the numbers may suggest that the race is tilting towards women, the politics of choosing a UN secretary-general are considerably more complicated.
The contest is not a conventional election in which the candidate with the most votes simply walks into office.
The 15-member Security Council must first recommend a candidate to the 193-member General Assembly, and any of the five permanent members, China, France, Russia, Britain and the United States, can block a candidate.
A successful candidate, therefore, needs both broad support and the ability to survive the veto politics of the permanent five.
That is where the race becomes fascinating.
The eight candidates are Costa Rica’s Rebeca Grynspan, Guyana’s Carolyn Rodrigues-Birkett, Ecuador’s María Fernanda Espinosa, Chile’s Michelle Bachelet, Argentina’s Rafael Mariano Grossi, Senegal’s Macky Sall, Uganda’s Olara Otunnu and Ecuador’s Ivonne A-Baki.
The UN’s official selection process confirmed the nominations, including A-Baki’s entry on August 17.
The field is, therefore, not only gender-diverse, but geographically significant.
Africa has two representatives in Sall and Otunnu, while Latin America and the Caribbean dominate the contest.
This time, women are not merely demanding a place at the table. They are occupying half the table.
Grynspan, the former vice-president of Costa Rica and current head of the UN Conference on Trade and Development, emerged strongly from the first Security Council straw poll, receiving 10 “encourage” votes, one “discourage” vote and four “no opinion” votes.
But the race has already demonstrated why early frontrunners should not celebrate prematurely.
In the second informal straw poll on August 21, Guyana’s Carolyn Rodrigues-Birkett moved into first place with eight “encourage” votes, three “discourage” votes and four “no opinion” votes. Grynspan and Grossi followed with seven “encourage” votes each.
Rodrigues-Birkett’s rise is politically significant.
A former Guyanese foreign minister and the country’s ambassador to the United Nations, she would become not only the first woman to lead the world body but also the first Caribbean national to occupy the position.
Her candidacy consequently carries a double symbolism, gender representation and regional representation.
For the Caribbean, a region frequently exposed to the devastating effects of climate change, economic vulnerability and uneven access to international financing, having one of its own at the helm of the UN would carry enormous political weight.
But this is not simply a beauty contest between women.
Grossi remains a formidable contender. The Argentine diplomat’s experience as director-general of the International Atomic Energy Agency gives him considerable exposure to some of the world’s most sensitive geopolitical questions, particularly nuclear proliferation and international security.
Sall, the former Senegalese president, brings executive experience at the highest political level, while Otunnu offers extensive UN experience as a former under-secretary-general.
Espinosa, meanwhile, is no stranger to the corridors of global diplomacy.
The former Ecuadorian foreign minister and former president of the UN General Assembly would bring both diplomatic and institutional experience to the job.
Bachelet, twice president of Chile and former UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, also possesses a formidable international profile.
A-Baki, the latest entrant, has added another dimension to the contest, bringing extensive diplomatic and governmental experience. Yet it is the women who have given this race its historical significance.
The UN’s own selection framework acknowledges the problem.
When the current process was launched, the presidents of the General Assembly and Security Council noted that no woman had ever held the position and encouraged member states to give strong consideration to female candidates.
That acknowledgement is important because the issue is no longer whether women are qualified to lead the United Nations.
Clearly, they are.
The more difficult question is whether the political system surrounding the appointment is finally prepared to make the historic leap.
For decades, the UN has been an advocate of women’s political participation while struggling with its own leadership imbalance.
The contradiction has been difficult to ignore. An organisation that routinely calls on governments to increase women’s representation in decision-making has itself never entrusted a woman with the top job.
The 2026 contest, therefore, offers the UN an opportunity to close a credibility gap that has persisted for generations.
But choosing a woman simply because she is a woman would also be the wrong approach.
The next secretary-general will inherit a United Nations facing profound institutional and geopolitical pressures, wars and conflicts, a fractured multilateral system, climate change, debt and development challenges, humanitarian crises and growing tensions between major powers.
The successful candidate must, therefore, be more than a historic first.
He or she must be a political bridge-builder capable of persuading countries that increasingly disagree on the basic rules of international relations.
This is precisely why the female candidates should be judged on their political records, diplomatic instincts and capacity to deliver results rather than on gender alone.
Indeed, the strongest argument for a woman becoming secretary-general is not that women deserve a turn.
It is that there are women in the current field who possess the experience required to do the job.
Grynspan brings economic and multilateral experience. Rodrigues-Birkett brings diplomatic and foreign-policy experience.
Espinosa brings General Assembly and ministerial experience. Bachelet brings presidential and human-rights experience, while A-Baki brings a lengthy diplomatic and governmental record.
The question, therefore, is no longer whether women have qualified candidates. They clearly do.
The question is whether the Security Council’s political arithmetic will allow one of them through. That arithmetic is already becoming clear.
Rodrigues-Birkett’s eight favourable votes in the second straw poll put her within one vote of the nine required for a Security Council recommendation.
But the three “discourage” votes are a reminder that support alone is not enough.
The identity of those opposing a candidate matters enormously because a single negative vote from a permanent member could derail an otherwise successful candidacy.
Grynspan faces a similar calculation.
Her decline from 10 “encourage” votes in the first poll to seven in the second demonstrates how quickly diplomatic momentum can shift behind closed doors.
This is where the race enters its most delicate phase. Behind the public statements about merit, experience and vision lies the hard currency of international politics: alliances, regional interests, geopolitical calculations and veto considerations.
A candidate may be popular among a majority of Security Council members but still fail if one of the permanent five decides that the candidate is unacceptable.
Consequently, the ultimate winner may not necessarily be the candidate who generates the loudest public excitement.
It may be the candidate who can command the broadest compromise.
And therein lies the real test for the UN.
If a woman is eventually selected, the significance will extend far beyond the symbolism of a first female secretary-general.
It would signal that the organisation is finally prepared to align its leadership structures with the principles of equality it has championed for generations.
It would also send a powerful message to millions of girls and women around the world that the highest levels of international diplomacy are no longer closed to them.
But history should not become a substitute for performance.
The first woman to lead the UN would inherit an organisation under pressure to demonstrate that multilateralism can still work in an increasingly fragmented world.
She would need to navigate competing interests among major powers while restoring confidence among smaller states that often feel their voices are drowned out by the powerful.
She would have to defend the UN’s relevance without pretending that the organisation is perfect, reform its bureaucracy without destroying its institutional capacity, and promote peace without becoming hostage to the geopolitical rivalries of its members.
The UN itself has acknowledged the historic absence of women from its top office. The door is no longer merely being knocked on.
It is beginning to open. Whether it opens wide enough, however, will depend not on history, rhetoric or symbolism, but on the hard calculations taking place inside the Security Council.
And if the world’s premier multilateral organisation is serious about practising the equality it preaches, 2026 may finally be the year when the world’s most powerful diplomatic chair ceases to be a man’s seat.
