September 2010

Samuel Moyn on the History of Human Rights and the Human Rights Movement

Beginning in the 1990s, when human rights acquired a literally millennial appeal in the public discourse of the West during outbreaks of ethnic cleansing in Southeastern Europe and beyond, it became tempting to treat 1948 as a moment of annunciation, with large political consequences. Carter, and the 1970s, were rarely mentioned. It became common to assume that, ever since their birth in a moment of postgenocidal revulsion and wisdom, human rights had become embedded slowly but steadily in humane consciousness in what amounted to a revolution of moral life. In a euphoric mood, high-profile observers like Michael Ignatieff believed that secure moral guidance, born of incontestable shock about the Holocaust, was on the verge of displacing self-interest and power as the foundation of international relations. In Samantha Power's "A Problem From Hell": America and the Age of Genocide (2002), Raphael Lemkin, who crafted the draft resolution of the 1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, was dusted off as a human rights sage and hero, with Carter earning attention only for failing to intervene against Pol Pot's atrocities. In fact, when "human rights" entered the English language in the 1940s, it happened unceremoniously, even accidentally. Human rights began as a very minor part of a hopeful alternative vision to set against Adolf Hitler's vicious and tyrannical new order. In the heat of battle and shortly thereafter, a vision of postwar collective life in which personal freedoms would coalesce with more widely circulating promises of some sort of social democracy provided the main reason to fight the war. It's important to enumerate what human rights, in the 1940s, were not. Ignatieff was wrong. They were not a response to the Holocaust, and not focused on the prevention of catastrophic slaughter. Though closely associated with the better life of social democracy, only rarely did they imply a departure from the persistent framework of nation-states that would have to provide it. Above all, human rights were not even an especially prominent idea. Unlike later, they were restricted to international organization, in the form of the new United Nations. They didn't take hold in popular language and they inspired no popular movement. Whether as one way to express the principles of Western postwar societies or even as an aspiration to transcend the nation-state, the concept of human rights never percolated publicly or globally during the 1940s with the fervor it would have in the '70s and the '90s, including during negotiations over the Universal Declaration. What if the 1940s were cut loose from the widespread myth that they were a dry run for the post–cold war world, in which human rights began to afford a glimpse of the rule of law above the nation-state? What if the history of human rights in the 1940s were written with later events given proper credit and a radically different set of causes for the current meaning and centrality of human rights recaptured? The central conclusion could only be that, however tempting, it is misleading to describe World War II and its aftermath as the essential source of human rights as they are now understood. From a global perspective, the brief career of human rights in the 1940s is the story of how the Allied nations elevated language about human rights as they reneged on the earlier wartime promise—made in the 1941 Atlantic Charter—of the self-determination of peoples. Global self-determination would have spelled the end of empire, but by war's end the Allies had come around to Winston Churchill's clarification that this promise applied only to Hitler's empire, not empire in general (and certainly not Churchill's). The Atlantic Charter set the world on fire, but because similar language was dropped from the Universal Declaration, human rights fell on deaf ears. It is not hard to understand why. Human rights turned out to be a substitute for what many around the world wanted: a collective entitlement to self-determination. To the extent they noticed the rhetoric of human rights at all, the subjects of empire were not wrong to view it as a consolation prize.

Soros’ Gift to Human Rights Watch

But the money also is meant to make its donor base as international as its outlook. Plans call for Human Rights Watch to draw at least half its income and most of its board members from outside the U.S. within five years. Now, about 70 percent of the money and 80 percent of the board members are U.S.-based.

Soros considers that a liability -- one he blamed on a frequent target of his, former President George W. Bush.

"They're basically an American organization advocating human rights all over the world. But the United States has lost the moral high ground, during the Bush administration, and, therefore, it runs into opposition because there's resentment of American interference," Soros said in an interview in his sleek office in a midtown Manhattan high-rise. " ... It's a drawback, to be American in this context."

HRW agrees, although it already believes it is seen as independent of the US government.

"But it is helpful for our organization to personify the global values we promote," Executive Director Kenneth Roth said.

I wonder if it is quite so easy to personify global values in that way, however.  Multinational corporations, for example, often talk about how global they are, in outlook, in values, in all those ways.  Query whether it actually works that way in MNEs.  The Daimler-Benz model, for example, in which it was supposed to be a merger of equals between the American car company and the German one.  Under a surface veneer of the "global" company, in fact the true owners of the enterprise, Daimler, quickly asserted itself, and for a simple reason - the post-merger was turning into a disaster, and the immediate response was for management to seek to reduce its internal transaction and agency costs by asserting a command and control decisionmaking model that relied upon one side of the enterprise.  That is, a "mixed" culture inside an enterprise is a costly one in terms of many decisionmaking factors, because it invites much more negotiation inside.  

Breaking: Julia Gillard Forms Government!

Thanks to the independence of two independents -- Tony Windsor and Rob Oakeshott, who come from conservative electorates.  That, my friends, is putting the good of the country ahead of short-term political interest. Go Julia!  And thank you, Tony and Rob, for sparing us from three years of Tony Abbott....