SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
");background-position:center;background-size:19px 19px;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-color:#222;padding:0;width:var(--form-elem-height);height:var(--form-elem-height);font-size:0;}:is(.js-newsletter-wrapper, .newsletter_bar.newsletter-wrapper) .widget__body:has(.response:not(:empty)) :is(.widget__headline, .widget__subheadline, #mc_embed_signup .mc-field-group, #mc_embed_signup input[type="submit"]){display:none;}:is(.grey_newsblock .newsletter-wrapper, .newsletter-wrapper) #mce-responses:has(.response:not(:empty)){grid-row:1 / -1;grid-column:1 / -1;}.newsletter-wrapper .widget__body > .snark-line:has(.response:not(:empty)){grid-column:1 / -1;}:is(.grey_newsblock .newsletter-wrapper, .newsletter-wrapper) :is(.newsletter-campaign:has(.response:not(:empty)), .newsletter-and-social:has(.response:not(:empty))){width:100%;}.newsletter-wrapper .newsletter_bar_col{display:flex;flex-wrap:wrap;justify-content:center;align-items:center;gap:8px 20px;margin:0 auto;}.newsletter-wrapper .newsletter_bar_col .text-element{display:flex;color:var(--shares-color);margin:0 !important;font-weight:400 !important;font-size:16px !important;}.newsletter-wrapper .newsletter_bar_col .whitebar_social{display:flex;gap:12px;width:auto;}.newsletter-wrapper .newsletter_bar_col a{margin:0;background-color:#0000;padding:0;width:32px;height:32px;}.newsletter-wrapper .social_icon:after{display:none;}.newsletter-wrapper .widget article:before, .newsletter-wrapper .widget article:after{display:none;}#sFollow_Block_0_0_1_0_0_0_1{margin:0;}.donation_banner{position:relative;background:#000;}.donation_banner .posts-custom *, .donation_banner .posts-custom :after, .donation_banner .posts-custom :before{margin:0;}.donation_banner .posts-custom .widget{position:absolute;inset:0;}.donation_banner__wrapper{position:relative;z-index:2;pointer-events:none;}.donation_banner .donate_btn{position:relative;z-index:2;}#sSHARED_-_Support_Block_0_0_7_0_0_3_1_0{color:#fff;}#sSHARED_-_Support_Block_0_0_7_0_0_3_1_1{font-weight:normal;}.sticky-sidebar{margin:auto;}@media (min-width: 980px){.main:has(.sticky-sidebar){overflow:visible;}}@media (min-width: 980px){.row:has(.sticky-sidebar){display:flex;overflow:visible;}}@media (min-width: 980px){.sticky-sidebar{position:-webkit-sticky;position:sticky;top:100px;transition:top .3s ease-in-out, position .3s ease-in-out;}}.grey_newsblock .newsletter-wrapper, .newsletter-wrapper, .newsletter-wrapper.sidebar{background:linear-gradient(91deg, #005dc7 28%, #1d63b2 65%, #0353ae 85%);}
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
Most of the world agrees that apartheid inside a country’s borders is the epitome of injustice. But we have an entire world built like this.
In an aphorism sometimes attributed to Leo Tolstoy, sometimes to John Gardner, all literature relies on one of two plots: a person goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town.
Let me offer my own version. We might summarize the entire history of the human race in two words: people move. Everything else is just elaboration on that basic plot.
While it’s easy to imagine that colonialism is part of our past, think again.
Some of history’s worst atrocities can be attributed to certain people trying to control other people’s movements, whether by capturing them, herding them into prison camps (concentration camps, strategic hamlets, model villages), enslaving and transporting them, or warehousing them in besieged countries or regions while barricading the borders of anyplace to which they might want to flee, often consigning them to death in treacherous deserts or seas for trying to exercise the basic human right of freedom of movement.
European Freedom and Colonial Domination
In February, President Trump astonished the world by proclaiming that the United States should “take over” Gaza and rid it entirely of its Palestinian population. Yet in many ways, as startling as that might have seemed, his proposal fit right in with his drive to remove millions of people from the United States. Both reflected a colonial arrogance that the U.S. and Israel share: the idea that some people (Americans/Europeans/Whites/colonizers) have the right to move themselves as they desire while moving others against their will. Consider it, after a fashion, a contemporary (as well as historic) version of apartheid.
Forcing people to move or prohibiting their mobility are two sides of the same colonial or neocolonial coin. Colonizers invade and drive people out or enslave, transport, enclose, and imprison them while barricading off the privileged spaces they create for themselves. In a vicious cycle, colonizers or imperial powers justify their borders and walls in the name of “security” while protecting themselves from those desperate to escape their domination. And such ideas, old as they may be, are still distinctly with us.
European imperial actors from Christopher Columbus on claimed the right to freedom of movement on this planet. Today, the flyer you get in the mail with your passport proudly insists that, “with your U.S. passport, the world is yours!”
Or consider historian and scientist Jared Diamond’s nonchalant claim that “no traditional society tolerated the relatively open access enjoyed by modern American or European citizens, most of whom can travel anywhere… merely by presenting a valid passport and visa to a passport control officer.”
Diamond argued that Americans and Europeans exemplify the freedoms of modernity, while more “traditional societies” oppress people by restricting their travel. But if Americans and Europeans enjoy the freedom to travel, it’s not because they are so much more modern than other inhabitants of this planet. It’s because other countries don’t restrict their freedom. On the other hand, it’s the U.S. and Europe, Diamond’s symbols of modernity, that tend to impose the greatest restrictions with their militarized borders and deportation regimes.
Perhaps we could better define modernity as the European drive to control mobility, forcing others to accept their intrusions while denying free mobility to the rest of the world. The United States and Israel offer a spectrum of examples of how the right to deport, the right to transport, the right to enclose, and the right to exclude tend to complement one another on this strange planet of ours. Both countries claim to be liberal democracies and celebrate their commitment to equal rights, while reserving those rights for some and excluding others.
Colonialism and the Postwar Order
While it’s easy to imagine that colonialism is part of our past, think again. Its structures, institutions, and ideas still haunt our world. And one of the defining powers of colonizers always was the way they reserved for themselves (and only themselves) the right to move freely, while also reserving the right to move those they had colonized around like so many chess pieces.
Moving (and moving others) has been inherent in every colonial project. The roots of today’s deportation regimes — particularly in the United States, Europe, and Israel — lie in the determination of colonializing countries to wrest wealth from the lands and labor of those they colonized and enjoy that wealth in their own privileged spaces from which the colonized are largely excluded.
The “rules-based world order” that emerged after World War II created institutions for international cooperation and international law, ended colonial empires (as the former colonies gained independence), and dismantled segregation in the United States and, eventually, apartheid in South Africa. But none of that truly or totally erased what had existed before. Global postwar decolonization and the struggle for equality proved to be lengthy and sometimes extremely bloody processes.
In the U.S., people of color are full citizens and can no longer, as a group, be legally enclosed or removed against their will. Europe, too, has dismantled its colonial empires. But the post-colonial world has developed a new form of global apartheid, where the racialized drive to enclose and remove is now directed at immigrants, the vast majority of them escaping the ongoing ravages left by colonialism (and more recently climate change) in their own countries.
Israel is in some ways an anachronism in that twentieth-century trajectory. Its colonizing project was carried out just as other colonized peoples were throwing off their rulers. Its expulsions of Palestinians, which began in the 1940s, have only accelerated in our own time. Meanwhile, Israel created its own legal version of apartheid (even as South Africa’s was dismantled), with those Palestinians who were not expelled increasingly surrounded by prisons and walls.
The Right to Deport: Israel
Zionists began to assert the right to expel well before the state of Israel was created in 1948.
In 1895, in an often-quoted passage, Zionism’s founder, Theodor Herzl, proposed that “we shall try to spirit the penniless [Arab] population across the border… The removal of the poor must be carried out discreetly and circumspectly.” During the post-World War I British Mandate in Palestine, Zionist, Arab, and British officials agreed that “there could be no viable Jewish state in all or part of Palestine unless there was a mass displacement of Arab inhabitants.”
Palestine’s British colonial authorities advocated such a displacement in their 1937 Peel Commission Report. It was then enthusiastically endorsed by Zionist leaders like David Ben-Gurion, later Israel’s first prime minister (“The compulsory transfer of the Arabs from the valleys of the proposed Jewish state could give us… an opportunity which we never dared to dream in our wildest imaginings”) and Chaim Weizmann (“If half a million Arabs could be transferred, two million Jews could be put in their place”).
Israel compounded its right to deport with the right to imprison, enclose, and kill. A plethora of laws and walls continue to restrict the return, movement, and residence of Palestinians. Israeli historian Ilan Pappé described the Israeli occupation regime in the West Bank and Gaza since 1967 as having created “the biggest prison on earth.”
In the older settler colonial countries, the days of Trails of Tears, imprisonment on reservations, the forced removal of children to boarding schools, and wars of extermination are mostly in the past. But in Israel, we are witnessing such a project happening before our very eyes. The eliminationist project there is proceeding apace with the tens of thousands killed in Gaza, and in President Trump’s and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s bald proposals for the complete removal of the Palestinian population from that strip of land, as well as in the restrictions on mobility and the thousands of home demolitions and displacements in the West Bank and East Jerusalem.
The Right to Deport: The United States
In the United States during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, this country ended slavery and enclosure and granted previously enslaved Africans and their descendants, as well as Native Americans, the right to citizenship.
Until after the Civil War, however, “immigrants” meant White Europeans — the only people then allowed to become citizens. Citizenship by birth, mandated by the 14th Amendment after the Civil War, complicated that picture because non-Whites born in U.S. territories also became citizens. To avoid this, the country quickly began to racially restrict immigration. By the late twentieth century, the right to immigrate and more equal rights inside the country were extended to non-Whites. But those rights were always fragile and accompanied by anti-immigrant and deportation campaigns, increasingly justified with the concept of “illegality.”
Developments in the twenty-first century clearly suggest that the arc of history does not necessarily bend toward justice, as a racial deportation regime resurges in a major fashion under President Donald Trump. He, of course, has long distinguished between “shithole countries” and “countries like Norway” as he continues to tighten the screws around most immigrants from Africa, Asia, and Latin America, while recently ostentatiously welcoming White Afrikaaners from South Africa.
The Trump administration’s repressive treatment of immigrants includes endless border militarization, the stripping of legal status from hundreds of thousands of immigrants, inventing increasingly draconian excuses for deportation, expanding immigrant incarceration, and pursuing exotic extraterritorial imprisonment and deportation schemes, including pressuring and bribing countries ranging from Costa Rica and Venezuela to Libya and South Sudan to take people forcibly deported from the United States. Others are being disappeared into prisons in Guantánamo and El Salvador.
Strangely — or maybe not so strangely — at the same time that the United States is deporting such “despicable human beings,” it’s demanding the extradition of others, including dozens of Mexicans. “The previous Administration allowed these criminals to run free and commit crimes all over the world,” Trump complained. “The United States’ intention is to extend its justice system,” a Mexican security analyst explained, so that the U.S. can prosecute Mexicans for crimes committed in Mexico. Forcibly moving people works both ways.
Connecting the U.S. and Israel Through Importation-Deportation
The colonial importation-deportation-incarceration regimes of the United States and Israel are intertwined in many ways. Of course, the U.S. decision to strictly limit Jewish (and other southern and eastern European) immigration in the 1920s contributed to the desperate search of European Jews for refuge in the Hitlerian years to come — and to the growth of Zionism, and the postwar migration to Israel.
The new United Nations — made up primarily of colonizers who had been keen to deport (or, in the case of the United States, make sure they didn’t add to) their own Jewish populations — partitioned Palestine to create Israel at the end of 1947. As the only powerful country to emerge from World War II unscathed, the United States would play an outsized role in that organization.
President Trump’s proposal to take Gaza and eliminate its population expresses his own (and Israel’s) settler-colonial dream for what Australian anthropologist Patrick Wolfe famously called the “elimination of the native.” Trump initially suggested deporting Gaza’s population to Egypt and Jordan, then to Sudan, Somalia, and Somaliland, and then to Libya — proposals enthusiastically endorsed by Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu. By mid-March of this year, Israel was creating a new migration authority to oversee the planned expulsion and 80% of Jewish Israelis found that plan “desirable” (though only 52% thought it was “practical”).
As of late May, none of those countries had accepted Trump’s proposal, though negotiations with Libya were evidently ongoing. But Trump’s plan to pressure or bribe poorer, weaker countries to accept Palestinian deportees mirrored his deals to deport “unwanteds” from the United States. In addition to the several Latin American countries where his administration has already sent deportees, it is looking to Angola, Benin, Equatorial Guinea, Eswatini, Libya, Moldova, and Rwanda as possibilities. As Secretary of State Marco Rubio explained, “We are working with other countries to say, ‘we want to send you some of the most despicable human beings to your countries…Would you do that, as a favor to us? And the further away from America, the better.’”
Another connection between the deportation regimes of the U.S. and Israel is the way the Trump administration has mobilized charges of antisemitism to imprison and deport Palestinians and their supporters. In ordering the deportation of protester Mahmoud Khalil and others, Rubio claimed that their “condoning antisemitic conduct” undermined American foreign policy objectives.
The United States and Israel share another dystopian project as well: ratcheting up fear and suffering to inspire people to “self-deport.” Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem flooded social and other media with a “multimillion dollar ad campaign” threatening immigrants: “Leave now. If you don’t, we will find you and we will deport you.” In this respect, MAGA Republicans differed little from liberal Democrats, as Noem was echoing Vice President Kamala Harris’s words to Guatemalans: “Don’t come… If you do, you will be turned back.” In an eerily similar fashion, on the Israeli-occupied West Bank, “settler advertisements appear on screens and billboards telling Palestinians, ‘There is no future in Palestine.’” Though their tactics differ in scale — the United States is not massacring immigrants and bombing their neighborhoods — they share the goal of eliminating a population.
One apparent difference makes the comparison even more revealing. The United States is aiming its repression at immigrants; Israel against the native population. But the earliest history of deportation in the United States began with the pushing out or slaughtering of the indigenous Native American population in order to clear the land for White settlement. Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands of Africans were forcibly imported to provide labor, many of them even before the U.S. became an independent state. They then remained enslaved and their mobility restricted for almost a century. Colonial control of freedom of movement, in other words, can take different forms over time.
Both the United States and Israel also disproportionately imprison their minoritized populations — another denial of freedom of movement. In the United States, this means people of color. Black people make up 14% of the population but 41% of the prison and jail population. Native Americans are incarcerated at four times the rate of White people. The United States also maintains the world’s largest immigrant detention system, with expansion plans already underway.
In Israel, it’s Palestinians who are disproportionately imprisoned, both inside that country and in its occupied territories. While Palestinians constitute about 20% of Israel’s population, they constitute about 60% of Israel’s prisoners. (Such statistics are hard to come by today, so that figure doesn’t include the thousands taken prisoner since Oct. 7, 2023.) Many Palestinian prisoners languish in what Israel calls “administrative detention,” a status created for Palestinians that allows lengthy detention without charge.
Borders, Walls, and Global Apartheid
We are so accustomed to imagining a world of equally sovereign countries, each creating its own immigration policy, that it’s easy to miss the colonial dimensions of immigration flows and the ways that colonial histories, immigration restrictions, expulsions, and incarceration are connected. Settler countries like Israel and the United States have particular similarities (and particular connections), but most European powers that have benefited from the world’s colonial order now barricade their borders against potential migrants.
Most of the world agrees that apartheid inside a country’s borders is the epitome of injustice. Why, then, are we so ready to accept a global version of it?
"It is devastating, but it's not surprising," said one former senior State Department official. "It's all what people in the national security community have predicted."
U.S. State Department officials in at least two countries have recently warned that the Trump administration's sudden foreign aid cutoff is fueling "violence and chaos" in some of the world's most vulnerable nations, according to a report published Wednesday.
Internal State Department communications viewed by
ProPublicarevealed that U.S. Embassy officials in the southeastern African nation of Malawi sounded the alarm on cuts to the United Nations World Food Program (WFP), which have "yielded a sharp increase in criminality, sexual violence, and instances of human trafficking" in the Dzaleka refugee camp.
Meanwhile, dramatically reduced U.S. funding to feed refugees in Kenya has sparked violent protests and other incidents, including the trampling death of a pregnant woman during a stampede for food in which police opened fire on desperately hungry people.
"In Kenya, for example, the WFP will cut its rations in June down to 28% — or less than 600 calories a day per person — a low never seen before...The WFP’s standard minimum for adults is 2,100 calories per day." Just unbelievable suffering as U.S. withdraws foreign aid.
[image or embed]
— Lisa Song (@lisalsong.bsky.social) May 28, 2025 at 1:15 PM
This, as President Donald Trump's administration—spearheaded by the so-called Department of Government Efficiency and its de facto leader, Elon Musk—has taken a wrecking ball approach to vital offices and programs including the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), where contracts for programs including those that fed and provided healthcare for millions of people and fought diseases like malaria and HIV/AIDS have been slashed by up to 90%.
Republicans have attempted to justify the cuts under the guise of tackling the staggering U.S. national debt, even as they push a massive tax cut that would disproportionately benefit the ultrarich and corporations while adding trillions of dollars to the deficit, according to a nonpartisan congressional committee.
Although a federal judge ruled in March that Musk's moves to shutter USAID were likely unconstitutional and ordered a halt to the effort, much damage has already been done.
"It is devastating, but it's not surprising," Eric Schwartz, a former State Department assistant secretary and National Security Council member, told ProPublica. "It's all what people in the national security community have predicted."
"I struggle for adjectives to adequately describe the horror that this administration has visited on the world," Schwartz added. "It keeps me up at night."
It is unclear if any of the cables were sent via the official dissent channel set up during the administration of then-President Richard Nixon in an effort to allow State Department personnel to voice opposition to U.S. policies and practices—especially in regard to the Vietnam War—and stop leaks to the press.
The State Department responded to the ProPublica exposé in a statement saying: "It is grossly misleading to blame unrest and violence around the world on America. No one can reasonably expect the United States to be equipped to feed every person on Earth or be responsible for providing medication for every living human."
Earlier this month, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio claimed during a congressional hearing that "no one has died" due to USAID cuts, an assertion refuted by Congressman Brad Sherman (D-Calif.), who displayed photos and harrowing stories of people who have, in fact, died since funding for vital programs was slashed or eliminated.
"It's clear that people are dying because U.S. aid was suspended and then reduced. But it's difficult to come up with a precise death toll that can be tied directly to Trump administration policies," according to a Washington Post analysis by Glenn Kessler published on Tuesday. "The death certificates, after all, aren't marked, 'Due to lack of funding by U.S. government.'"
Last month, the international medical charity Doctors Without Borders (MSF) said that there will be "more preventable deaths and untold suffering around the world" due to the Trump administration.
"These sudden cuts by the Trump administration are a human-made disaster for the millions of people struggling to survive amid wars, disease outbreaks, and other emergencies," Avril Benoît, who heads the U.S. branch of MSF, said last month.
"We are living off the fumes of what was delivered in late 2024 or early 2025."
On the ground in Kenya, WFP country director Lauren Landis told ProPublica that her organization is cutting daily aid rations to less than 600 calories per person—far less than the standard minimum 2,100 calories per day under agency guidelines.
"We are living off the fumes of what was delivered in late 2024 or early 2025," Landis said, describing children who look like "walking skeletons" due to severe malnutrition.
Meanwhile, enough food to feed more than 1 million people in some of the world's most fragile places through most of the summer is moldering in storage as USAID funds run dry and workers are laid off.
This,
warned WFP last month, "could amount to a death sentence for millions of people facing extreme hunger and starvation."
If America is to be more than a garrison state that bullies other countries and takes a what’s-in-it-for-me approach to international relations, the concept of human rights will have to be preserved and revived.
The Trump administration seems intent on undermining America’s ability to make human rights a significant element of its foreign policy. As evidence of that, consider its plan to dramatically reduce policy directives and personnel devoted to those very issues, including the dismantling of the State Department’s Bureau of Democracy, Rights, and Labor. Even worse, the Trump team has attacked a crucial global institution, the International Criminal Court, and put it under crippling sanctions that have ground its operations to a halt—all for telling the truth about Israel’s illegal and ongoing mass slaughter in Gaza.
The Trump administration’s assault on human rights comes against the background of years of policy decisions in Washington that too often cast aside such concerns in favor of supposedly more important “strategic” interests. The very concept of human rights has had a distinctly mixed history in American foreign policy. High points include the U.S. role in the Nuremberg prosecutions after World War II, its support for the United Nations’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948, and President Jimmy Carter’s quest to be the “human rights president” in the late 1970s. But such moments have alternated with low points like this country’s Cold War era support for a series of vicious dictators in Latin America or, more recently, the way both the Biden and Trump administrations have backed Israel’s war crimes in Gaza, actions that a number of reputable independent reports suggest constitute nothing short of genocide.
The Trump administration’s position couldn’t be clearer. It seeks to permanently undermine the ability of this country to promote human rights in any form.
Amid such ups and downs have come some real accomplishments like support for the democratic evolution of the government in the Philippines, the passage of comprehensive sanctions on apartheid South Africa, and the freeing of prominent political prisoners around the world.
Some critics of the human rights paradigm argue that such issues are all too regularly weaponized against American adversaries, but largely ignored when it comes to this country’s autocratic allies like Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and El Salvador. The solution to such a critique is not to abandon human rights concerns, but to implement them more consistently across the globe.
In the short-term, forging a more consistent approach to supporting human rights is a daunting task. After all, the Trump administration’s position couldn’t be clearer. It seeks to permanently undermine the ability of this country to promote human rights in any form by gutting the State Department’s Bureau of Democracy, Rights, and Labor and making other changes that will further shift foreign policy toward the transactional and away from anything that has a hint of the aspirational. Discussions about incorporating Greenland into this country, turning Canada into our 51st state, further militarizing the U.S.-Mexico border, cutting a coercive mineral deal with Ukraine, seizing the Panama Canal, or building tourist hotels in a depopulated Gaza—however farcical some of the notions may seem—have taken precedence over any discussion of promoting democracy and human rights globally.
Donald Trump relishes building closer ties to autocrats, typically embracing Hungary’s Viktor Orbán and, at one international meeting, on seeing Egyptian leader Adel Fatah El-Sisi in the hallway, shouting, “There goes my favorite dictator!” In addition, strongmen like Nayib Armando Bukele Corteaz of El Salvador have helped enable his administration’s most egregious human rights violations to date, snatching up U.S. residents and sending them to a horrific Salvadoran prison without even a hint of due process.
The Trump administration has also proposed shuttering dozens of embassies globally and plans to slash State Department bureaus that disseminated expertise to areas plagued by crisis and war; worked to combat human trafficking; or advised the secretary of state on human rights issues relating to war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide. Sweeping Trump administration proposals have even included replacing the Foreign Service Institute, the nation’s center for diplomatic learning, with an office devoted to “global acquisition.” Meanwhile, even as the administration dismantles America’s basic diplomatic infrastructure, it has made no moves to close a single one of America’s more than 750 overseas military bases or scale back the Pentagon’s bloated budget, which is now heading toward the trillion-dollar mark annually.
Under the Trump administration’s current approach, the face of America—already long tilted toward its massive military presence globally— is likely to be slanted even more toward military threats and away from smart diplomacy. Trump’s crew is also seeking to shut down the collection of basic data on human rights by restricting the kinds of abuses covered in State Department human rights reports. Over the years, those reports have evolved into standardized, reliable sources of information for human rights advocates and activists seeking justice in other countries, as well as political figures and journalists operating under repressive regimes.
Such objective human-rights reporting, now increasingly missing in action, had also served as an early warning system in determining which U.S. partners were more prone to engaging in reckless and destabilizing behavior that could draw this country into unnecessary and intractable conflicts.
By diluting such critical evidence-gathering mechanisms, successfully used in the past to turn other states away from violations of human rights, the administration is undermining its own future international influence. It’s also weakening critical domestic legislation meant to guarantee that this country doesn’t contribute to gross violations of such rights. While U.S. human-rights policies have at best been inconsistent in their execution, when this country has moved to protect the rights of individuals abroad, it has indeed contributed to global stability, curtailed the root causes of migration, and reduced the ability of extremist groups to gain footholds in key nations.
The Trump administration, however, has it completely backward. This country shouldn’t be treating human rights as, at best, a quaint relic of a past age. Creating a genuine policy of promoting them is not only the right thing to do, but also a potential tool for enhancing this country’s influence at a time when economic and military tools alone are anything but sufficient and often do more harm than good.
Washington’s role in enabling Israel’s destruction of Gaza brought human-rights hypocrisy front and center even before the second Trump administration. For the next nearly four years, count on this: Jettisoning human rights from U.S. policy will be the order of the day.
Jimmy Carter campaigned on a platform promoting human rights, which was seen as a breath of fresh air in the wake of the lies and crimes of President Richard Nixon’s administration at home and abroad. Under that rubric, Carter called out repressive regimes, made it easier for refugees from such countries to enter the United States, and elevated the human consequences of denying such rights above narrowly defined strategic concerns. Unfortunately, once he became president, he also abandoned his principles in key cases, most notably in his support for the Shah of Iran to the bitter end, opening the door to the rise of the Islamic extremist regime of Ayatollah Khomeini and decades of enmity between the United States and Iran.
As president, Ronald Reagan had supported democracy movements like Solidarity in Poland, while funding and arming right-wing, anti-democratic movements that he labeled “freedom fighters” in Afghanistan, Angola, and Nicaragua. The biggest human rights achievement during his two terms in office arrived despite him, not because of him, when Congress overcame his attempt to veto comprehensive sanctions against the apartheid regime in South Africa.
On balance, this country has all too often employed human-rights rhetoric as a justification for the use of force rather than as an actual force for democratic reform.
After the fall of the Berlin Wall and, in 1991, the dissolution of the Soviet Union, President George H.W. Bush would play an active role in the reunification of Germany, while supporting democratic transitions from communist states throughout Eastern Europe. At the same time, his administration used human rights as a tool of warfare, as when it invaded Panama to depose dictator General Noriega. At the time, that intervention was rationalized as an effort to restore democracy and protect the human rights of Panamanians. That operation, however, sparked an outcry from, among others, the U.N. General Assembly and the Organization of American States, both of which condemned the invasion as a violation of international law.
Over time, the State Department indeed expanded the range of rights it recognizes and defends—an expansion that is now under relentless attack. The Clinton administration was the first to grant asylum to gay and lesbian individuals facing persecution in their homelands. At that time, the U.S. also enacted the International Religious Freedom Act, which established an ambassador and a commission focused on protecting and promoting religious freedom internationally. Even so, that administration’s human rights record proved mixed at best. Bill Clinton himself has expressed regret over his tepid response to the Rwandan genocide and his refusal even to describe that atrocity as a genocide while in office. Still, no previous president of our times could have imagined an American asylum or immigrant policy geared only to White South Africans, as is now being implemented by the Trump administration.
The idea of humanitarian intervention—military action to prevent atrocities—has backfired in some prominent cases, causing instability and chaos, death and destruction, rather than improvements in the lives of the residents of the targeted nations. Meanwhile, the devastating American wars of this century, from Afghanistan to Iraq, caused staggering death tolls and devastation.
The 2005 Responsibility to Protect doctrine epitomized the double-edged sword of human rights rhetoric. The leading role of Barack Obama’s administration in the 2011 NATO-led “humanitarian” intervention in Libya, which was soon transformed into a destabilizing regime-change mission, marred his presidency. At the same time, Obama did help promote international rights and protections for LGBTQ+ peoples, while his administration’s work on the U.N. Human Rights Council also helped develop commissions of inquiry to investigate human rights violations in Syria, North Korea, and Muammar Qadhafi’s Libya.
On balance, this country has all too often employed human-rights rhetoric as a justification for the use of force rather than as an actual force for democratic reform. Still, as imperfect as the implementation of human rights principles has been, that’s hardly a reason for it to be abandoned outright, as seems to be happening now.
Regimes that engage in systematic human rights abuses domestically are also more likely to engage in reckless, destabilizing behaviors in their own regions and beyond. Such was the case with Saudi Arabia, which spearheaded a brutal invasion of Yemen that began in March 2015 and lasted for more than seven years. That war resulted in nearly 400,000 direct and indirect deaths through bombing and the devastating effects of a blockade of Yemen that slowed imports of food, medicine, and other vital humanitarian supplies. (And mind you, as is true of Israel’s ongoing horror in Gaza, that war in Yemen was carried out with billions of dollars’ worth of U.S.-supplied arms.)
The Saudi regime has never been held accountable for its campaign of slaughter in Yemen. If anything, it has been rewarded. During his recent visit, in fact, President Trump announced a $142 billion arms deal with that nation, a multi-year arms package for Riyadh that the White House described as the largest defense cooperation agreement in history. If the past is any guide, that deal could end up being considerably less than the present sum suggests, but the very existence of such a deal represents a vote of confidence in the Saudi government and its reckless de facto leader, Mohammed Bin Salman, that could get the United States entangled in another Saudi-initiated conflict.
The United Arab Emirates (UAE), which partnered with Saudi Arabia in the Yemen war, ran a series of secret prisons in that nation where its personnel and their Yemeni allies engaged in widespread torture. More recently, the UAE has been supplying weapons to rebel forces in Sudan that have committed systematic human rights abuses. And it supported opposition forces attempting to overthrow the internationally recognized government of Libya. Not only did the U.S. impose no consequences on its frequent arms client, but it declared the UAE a “major defense partner.”
If America is to be more than a garrison state that bullies other countries and takes a what’s-in-it-for-me approach to international relations, the concept of human rights will have to be preserved and revived in the wake of Donald Trump’s presidency.
Advocates of “hard power” should think twice before throwing U.S. human rights commitments into the dustbin of history. At a time when rights at home are under unprecedented assault, Americans need all the allies they can get if they are to help build a world grounded in responsive governance and a spirit of pragmatic cooperation. Values-based cooperation will be essential for tackling our most pressing existential crises, from climate change and pandemics to the ascendancy of arbitrary and repressive regimes.
Unfortunately, the current administration has shown no interest in speaking up on behalf of human rights, much less using them as a tool to promote more responsive governance globally.
Throwing rights overboard in pursuit of narrow economic interests and a misguided quest for global dominance will not only cause immense and unnecessary suffering but it will undermine U.S. influence around the world. The “pragmatists” who denigrate human rights in favor of a transactional approach to foreign relations are promoting a self-defeating policy that will do great harm at home and abroad. A better approach will, unfortunately, have to await a new administration, a more empathetic Congress, and a greater public understanding of the value of a foreign policy that takes human rights seriously with respect to allies and adversaries alike.