Human rights are
founded on the recognition of the dignity of each human being, and
from the religious vantage point, as creatures or children God. Each
person has inherent value and is created with full integrity and
potential for generativity. With an understanding that genocide and
wars were meant to be unrepeatable experiences, respect for individuals
in society would strengthen the authentic part of nation-states in
the world community.
Defending human
rights in a time of war is a moral imperative. And with a war in
Iraq within a continuing, perhaps never-ending, war on Terror, our
landscape for human rights is challenged if not outright threatened.
The logic of war is incompatible with the spirit of human rights.
Wars are promulgated through force and violence even if the aim is
to achieve certain political objectives. When these objectives are
constantly changing or are so vague that the targets are undefined,
or are misrepresented in order to serve a particular constituency,
or to serve ends other than those stated, then the most unfortunate,
albeit expected, outcomes of any ‘find, fix or destroy’ mission
will become reality and thousands may be killed with impunity in
order to extract the response of capitulation, of ultimate surrender.
In the nuclear age, no moral framework based on human rights can
accept the logic of preemptive war and continue to stand.
Let us not forget
the effects of economic sanctions on the people, especially the children,
in Iraq. A conservative journalist believes that “economic
sanctions my well have been a necessary cause of the deaths of more
people in Iraq than have been slain by all so-called weapons of mass
destruction.” In preparation for war in 2002, the US abstained
from two votes of the UN Disarmament Committee on the militarization
of space and the General Protocol prohibiting the use of poisonous
gases and bacteriological methods of warfare.
Blatant disregard
for international cooperation to prevent war and the expansion of
militarism in order to set the stage for proving victorious in some
future conflict (behind the fear-based rhetoric of “homeland
security”) leads to the erosion of standards of participation
and dissent at home. Both the perpetration of war abroad and the
assault on human rights at home are built upon the deconstruction – and
devaluation – of the Other.
War is the end
result in a society that has come to tolerate in Dr. Martin Luther
King’s words, the “three evils” of poverty, militarism
and racism. Violence begets violence until the cycle is stopped.
These forms of structural violence need to be faced squarely, in
a context of competition, greed and conspicuous consumption, so that
the logic of war – that might makes right – may be challenged.
And defending the human rights of people other than ourselves becomes
the bedrock of framing alternatives to war and ongoing conflict.
If we were not
convinced by the passage of the Patriot Act as the first domestic
initiative of the war on Terror, we can now see that the logic of
war almost certainly leads to the curtailing of civil liberties and
civil rights. In other words, we erode democracy in order to promote
democracy. Twelve hundred Southeast Asians, Muslims and Arabs were
summarily picked up and detained as people “suspected” of
terrorism. Today, people may be investigated, arrested, lose all
possessions, be held without charge indefinitely, separated from
their families and tortured if you are a foreign national held under
US auspices. All legal. For Muslims and for others, this may mean
that the fundamental right to religious expression is denied. If
you speak out on the war in Iraq, you may be greeted with the IRS
at your doorstep trying to reverse your non-profit tax status. Freedom
of speech is now challenged. I contend that we need to approach these
affronts to basic civil liberties as a threat to all of us. In a
time of war, internal and external security are expanded in hopes
that voices of dissent are muted. A human rights approach must not
let this happen, because indeed our very humanity is at stake.
Behind the incredible
incompetence and unconscionable neglect of mostly African American
citizens in New Orleans and the Gulf Coast Region when Hurricane
Katrina hit, are the double whammy of poverty and racism. No plan
was made to ensure that citizens were reached in their homes in the
Gulf, so those who could not afford transportation or were afraid
to leave stayed until the floods came. In Bangladesh, when a hurricane
of this sort hits, authorities go door to door to ensure that they
have reached everybody. Today, if you are urban, poor and a minority,
you may be discounted and devalued, in other words, considered in
effect, less than or even subhuman. Bishop Alvaro Ramazzini of San
Marcos, Guatemala (an area devastated recently by Tropical Storm
Stan) says, “It is the poor who suffer most in these circumstances,
they who bear the brunt of impact and the consequences.” Now,
as subsidized housing is running out for those who fled, tax cuts
for food, shelter, and health care as well as permanent tax cuts,
are being rammed through Congress. The reasoning is revealing: in
order to offset Hurricane Relief. The audacity! The moral outrage?
One of the ways
people today are discounted is, for working people, in the gutting
of union protections for 200,000 Homeland Security employees and
the potential loss of civil service protections for tens of thousands
more under the Department of Defense. This is an unacceptable violation
of basic worker and human rights.
If the basis of
human rights is love for the other, and if the ground of human rights
is social justice, then the destination of human rights is solidarity,
sharing the essence of one’s humanity with another and walking
in that intimate place together come what may, even in the face of
rejection or even persecution. The quality that lends itself to solidarity
is described by Archbishop Desmond Tutu as ubuntu.
Ubuntu means, “My
humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in what is yours.” A
person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of
others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for
he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that
he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others
are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed.”
When put into practice,
mutual respect for the Other acknowledges the diversity of who we
are as human beings and lends toward the realization of civil, social
and cultural rights between distinct and different peoples. With
such respect, we are all enriched.
Ubuntu in my estimation
is often most readily found in those who have suffered the most:
immigrant communities and those who are poor, including many low-wage
workers, who are struggling to make ends meet.
For those communities
whose human rights are routinely violated, their experience is sometimes
described as being victims in a “war” against them. This
is particularly true in the post-9/11 times in which we live. My
Somali friend on the Immigrant Workers Freedom Ride who would have
been deported after being forced to register with ICE to possible
death except for a successful class action suit under Hate Free Zone
Washington that successfully stopped the deportations for 2,800 individual
Somalis. For Maria, a janitor, who was willing to speak up for living
wages and health benefits, good working conditions and a union contract,
she engaged in a 2-day strike and lost her job because of it under
the excuse of being thought to not have proper documentation. Because
of the risk she was willing to take, the New York Times reported
last week that Houston is on the verge of organizing 10,000 workers
with a chance for all to be unionized. Ubuntu available for janitors,
ubuntu for us. Yet in addition, there were those who stood as non-immigrants
with immigrants on the freedom ride. For example, Mako from Seattle
saw what was happening from the unique perspective of someone who
had to live with her father taken behind bars as a Japanese-American
in World War II and her whole family went to Idaho, for several years
in internment camps. Mako said, “No way can this ever happen
again!” She sat in front of the bus, reconciled us when we
lost sight of our ubuntu as a group promoting our four goals (family
reunification, justice on the job, legalization and a pathway to
citizenship and civil rights and civil liberties). When she spoke
in front of 2,000 people in Washington, DC, alongside John Lewis,
we knew how profoundly changed we had been from journeying together
through cities and towns all across America for 13 days and 13 nights.
Even with ubuntu,
we seek results from our efforts. We must look at the horizon of
our activities. What type of community do we specifically want to
create? Is there not a sacred duty to “repair the world” and
to frame our work in this holy image of tikkun olam?
This puts us, as
human rights defenders, in the position of “repairers of the
world.” It suggests a communitarian perspective where all are
responsible for all. My suffering is your suffering. And your liberation,
your freedom to live in dignity, is my liberation. Repair of the
world confronts exploitation and oppression with a genuine preferential
option for those who are poor or are on the margins. It means examining
root causes and promoting social justice. As Chief Seattle said a
century and a half ago, “Our destinies are intertwined.” Tikkun
olam puts patriotism in a context where it is subservient to the
preservation of peoples other than ourselves because such diversity,
as with other species, makes us whole. Tikkun olam suggests wholeness
and health for all.
As human rights
activists, our task is before us.
If not us, then
who, if not now, then when, if not here, then where? The circle of
defender of human rights, especially in times of war, is larger than
when it began. Let us strengthen the web of life.
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