Human Rights and the American Tradition
Nothing the Carter Administration has done has excited more hope, puzzlement and confusion than the effort to make human rights a primary theme in the international relations of the United States.
Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. is Albert Schweitzer Professor in the Humanities at the City University of New York. He was Special Assistant to the President,
1961-64, and Professor of History at Harvard University, 1954-61. He is the
author of Robert F. Kennedy and His Times and The Imperial Presidency, among
many other works.
Nothing the Carter Administration has done has excited more hope, puzzlement and confusion than the effort to make human rights a primary theme in the international relations of the United States. Observers, watching the human rights initiative stumble from one contradiction to another, have announced its demise at regular intervals. Yet the campaign has plainly touched exposed nerves around the planet; it reverberates from Moscow, Santiago and Kampala to Peking; and, after two uncertain years, it remains a vital if problematic strain in American foreign policy. It therefore seems appropriate to attempt an interim assessment of the human rights initiative: its origins, its ambiguities, its achievements, its perils, its prospects.
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Human rights -- roughly the idea that all individuals everywhere are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness on this earth -- is a relatively modern proposition. Political orators like to trace this idea to religious sources, especially to the so-called Judeo-Christian tradition. In fact the great religious ages were notable for their indifference to human rights in the contemporary sense -- not only for their acquiescence in poverty, inequality and oppression, but for their addiction to slavery, torture, wartime atrocities and genocide.
Christianity, for example, assigned to earthly misery an honored and indispensable role in the drama of salvation. The trials visited on mankind in this world were conceived as ordained by the Almighty in order to test and train sinful mortals. From the religious perspective, nothing that might take place on earth mattered in comparison to what must take place hereafter. The world was but an inn at which humans spent a night on their voyage to eternity, so what difference could it make if the food was poor or the bed uncomfortable?
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If either Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan needed any special persuasion to become convinced of the centrality of the Middle East in the total picture of American foreign policy, harsh experience provided it. The former had some notable diplomatic successes in the region, the Camp David accords and the Israel-Egypt peace treaty, but he struggled through the final year of his presidency under the impact of two shattering events--the seizure of the American Embassy in Tehran and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. However history may judge his efforts to cope with them, there was no avoiding the impression of a humiliated and frustrated America which must have contributed to his electoral defeat in November 1980. President Reagan came into office determined to restore American strength and prestige, but one year later his Administration, shocked by the assassination of President Anwar el-Sadat of Egypt, at odds with Israel after a series of disputes culminating in the barbed exchange following Israel's de facto annexation of the Golan Heights, and unable either to put aside the Palestine problem or make any progress toward settling it, was still groping for a political structure on which to build the position of strength deemed necessary to hold off the Russians and protect vital oil supplies.
The Cold War culture of military restraint has given way to increasing atrocities. By remaining a passive witness in the former Yugoslavia, Central Asia, and Chechnya, the United States damages its moral economy. Yet none of these conflicts sufficiently threatens U.S. interests to rouse the nation to arms. The United States should therefore return to the calculating siege craft common before Napoleon, which stressed minimal casualties, partial results, and patience. Every war need not be a heroic national crusade.
The Congress of Vienna, the Treaty of Versailles, and the NATO-based containment strategy were three pivotal decisions in European diplomacy. Now there is a fourth opportunity to construct a lasting European peace through institutions, new and old. Foremost, NATO must expand, discussing openly which new countries to admit. The Partnership for Peace and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe should coordinate human rights and civilian control of armies. Respect for human rights must extend to Russia, which is why the Chechen campaign has been so disturbing. To turn away from the challenge of this moment and freeze NATO would exact a higher price later.

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