From the United Nations to the Divided Nations: Learning to advocate within a fractured international legal system

By Rayana Ajam, Global Voices Fellow, United Nations General Assembly Sixth Committee

The United Nations was born out of humanity’s darkest moments, a collective promise to prevent history from repeating itself and to uphold universal standards of human rights, the rule of law, and global order. As a student of Politics, International Relations, and Law, and having worked in the grit of grassroots advocacy for an international NGO, I had always viewed the UN as the ultimate destination for anyone dedicated to international justice and human rights. It symbolised possibility, progress, and the belief that the world could be better.

Walking into the UN General Assembly, its golden walls surrounded by the flags of the world, felt like stepping into the heart of global change. I am the first in my bloodline to do so, and for that I will be forever grateful. It was the kind of space I had imagined for years, where member states negotiate the norms that shape humanity’s future, and where legal principles are not just studied, but materialised. 

With that sense of purpose, I approached the Sixth Committee (Legal) determined to claim a seat at the table and to carry with me the voices so often missing from high-level deliberations, the people living with the consequences of the international legal system’s failures. But what I confronted instead was unsettling, a system far slower, more political, and more divided than I had imagined. 

The transition from studying international law in books to witnessing its procedural reality in practice was jarring. The UN I had imagined often felt overshadowed by what I began calling the ‘Divided Nations’. I found myself asking difficult questions: Has the UN lost its influence, or are we simply failing to use it effectively? Is the system inherently constrained by state politics? And, most importantly, how do we restore the centrality of human rights and the foundational legal principles on which the UN was built?

We met with legal experts, the Australian Permanent Mission, diplomats, ambassadors and the heads of INGOs, yet the same questions echoed in my mind. How do you create change within a system that is noticeably imperfect? And what exactly must change to make the system worthy of the people it serves?

My commitment to human rights is not merely an academic interest; it is my life’s purpose, grounded in honouring those who paved the path of justice before me. I expected the Sixth Committee to be the engine room of this purpose, a place where the ‘conscience of humanity’ is codified into binding law. Yet, being present at the UNGA during an era where faith in international law is visibly deteriorating was a sobering wake-up call.  

The realisation that international law can be used as much to delay justice as to deliver it was, initially, deeply disheartening. I witnessed how procedural formalities could eclipse substantive justice, and how sovereignty and politics could be used as a shield against accountability. It forced me to confront the cycles of impunity that allow powerful nations to navigate the legal architecture to shield themselves while the vulnerable wait for a consensus that may never come.  

But this realisation did not destroy my motivation. It strengthened it. 

Because despite its flaws, one truth was impossible to ignore: states still rely on the language and legitimacy of international law. Even when attempting to justify troubling actions, governments turn to international legal principles to frame their positions. That continued respect is the leverage, the opening. It means the system is not broken beyond repair. It is waiting to be strengthened.

For an Australian law student, this insight is powerful. Australia’s commitment to human rights is not guaranteed; it requires bold, informed advocacy. If Australia is to lead with principle, it needs young lawyers and activists who understand both the promise and the limitations of the international system, and who are ultimately determined to push it forward.

Leaving the UNGA, my clearest reflection is this: the ‘Divided Nations’ is not just a divide between states, but between the institution and the people it was built to protect. Closing that gap is our generation’s responsibility. My experience revealed the system’s fragility, but it also reaffirmed something far more important, abandoning the table is not an option.

My idealism has been tempered, but not diminished. In fact, it has been reshaped into a stronger, more resilient resolve. The world’s most pressing challenges, climate displacement, digital warfare, the erosion of humanitarian norms, will test the UN in unprecedented ways. But they also create unprecedented opportunities for courageous, principled leadership.

Far from draining my motivation, the exposure to the system’s flaws has instead thrilled me, transforming vague aspiration into a concrete, critical mission. The task ahead is immense, but the chance to help build a fairer and more just international order, one that truly centres human dignity, is invigorating. I remain hopeful, determined, and fundamentally committed to playing my part in shaping a better world.

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The views and opinions expressed by Global Voices Fellows do not necessarily reflect those of the organisation or its staff.