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Though many people have become concerned about America’s commitment to human rights since the terrorist attacks of September 11, Julie Mertus argues that causes for concern were actually present much earlier. Setting out to confirm Martha Finnemore and Catherine Sikkink’s thesis that the language and norms of human rights have become integrated into the practice of the U.S. government and military, Mertus conducted over 150 interviews and surveys that led her to a different conclusion. State and civilian actors in the United States rhetorically embrace an universalist perspective on human rights, espousing the idea that fundamental human rights and duties
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to one another exist regardless of the specific relationships between people. But these actors simultaneously act on a much more particularist ethic, pragmatically determining the content of human rights duties in light of existing relationships between groups. Mertus focuses on the disconnect between rhetoric and action in three interrelated groups: the civilian government (particularly the executive branch), the military, and “civil society.”
While the United States has long considered human rights to be an essential part of its self-image, the rhetoric of human rights has increased in recent history. At the same time, Mertus argues that countervailing policies such as anti-communism—and, particularly in the last four years, counterterrorism—have enjoyed sustained prominence. These competing priorities have facilitated double standards in each succeeding administration. George H. W. Bush’s idealist rhetoric contradicted his “prudent” courses of action in Yugoslavia and Somalia, while Bill Clinton’s attempts to link human rights concerns to essential national interests were undermined by Congress’s refusal to endorse the International Criminal Court. George W. Bush’s administration has extended the principle of American exceptionalism and broadened the practice of embracing compliant governments regardless of their human rights abuses.
The policies of the U.S. civilian leadership are reflected in military leadership as well. Mertus, however, notes strong potential for improvement in this area. The rigid nature of the military control structure is both a drawback and a benefit for the promotion of human rights principles: the military is resistant to change, but when change is made, it is efficiently and rapidly propagated through the commanding hierarchy. Many military campaigns in recent years have tasked the armed forces with humanitarian, constructive projects rather than the destruction of a well-defined enemy. As Mertus’s research demonstrates, this role has been genuinely embedded into the identity of the military. However, there are obstacles to the full adoption of this identity. The military is still fractured by a lack of consensus about the compatibility of these projects with the core task of national defense. As a result, a corresponding aversion to risk accompanies so-called “nation building” operations, which impedes their success. Furthermore, some of the military’s particular actions work to subvert the human rights agenda in many instances. Examples include the training of foreign armies in non-democratic nations and the military’s internal opposition to reducing discrimination based on sexual orientation.
The third major group that Mertus analyzes is “civil society,” made up primarily of NGOs, but also including consultancy groups, think tanks, and lobbyists. Mertus notes that the people involved in these groups are often the same people who operate the civilian government and the military, and frequently share the common career motivation of using their expertise to help people. Civil society’s traditional mechanism for promoting human rights has been publicity campaigns to shame those who breach human rights obligations. However, an increasing number of NGOs and others have focused on
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policy advocacy in a direct effort to influence government actors. This technique requires an ability to work with the government as a partner, rather than an adversary, on programs such as the delivery of social services. To the extent that it is successful, this partnership can allow the established interests of the state to co-opt the agenda of NGOs. Mertus insists that civil society must be wary of this potential for subordination, and her last section espouses some techniques for resisting it.
Mertus ties together the evidence of a disconnect between American speech and American action on human rights into her central metaphor: America as a used-car salesman using the rhetoric of human rights as the “bait” to entice other countries to act compliantly, which is then “switched” for actions in America’s direct self-interest. However, Mertus goes beyond utilizing this metaphor and introduces concrete suggestions for improving U.S. compliance with human rights standards. One technique Mertus suggests is “rhetorical coercion,” which, unlike simple persuasion, attempts to close off avenues of rebuttal by framing human rights issues in such a way that suggested alternatives become repellent to the target audience. She likens this to raising consumer expectations in order to prevent vendor impropriety.
Finally, Mertus argues that civil society’s direct efforts to influence policymakers and other powerful actors are misplaced. Instead, she recommends that human rights discussions be aimed at creating a broad-based “human rights culture,” which must go beyond the adoption of human rights language and address the implementation of substantive norms. Mertus suggests that state and even municipal governments should take steps in this direction by adopting U.N. standards and passing laws against trading with states known to abuse human rights. While one hopes for their success, the litigious resistance met by some such efforts, like the Massachusetts Burma Law, should moderate expectations of this approach.
—Robert Kent
HLSHRJ@law.harvard.edu
This file was last modified: Wednesday, 03-Aug-2005 10:54:50 EDT