in this book is academic rather than activist. I do not presume that moral principles belong, ipso facto, at the center of diplomacy. I acknowledge that humanitarian concerns have arrived relatively recently in the history of international affairs, and I recognize that in centuries past, diplomacy was carried out in pursuit of royal, imperial, tribal, or national interests with little or no regard for such concerns. I also acknowledge that although international covenants define basic rights standards that all governments should respect, they prescribe few effective enforcement mechanisms. After 1945, states chose to be concerned with other nations’ internal practices; they were rarely obliged to do so.
Thus I am implicitly challenging scholars who assert that American human rights policymaking has been defined by inaction, hypocrisy, and double standards. Julie Mertus argues that the divide between Washington’s high-minded rhetoric and its relative inactivity amounts to a political “bait and switch” in conjunction with a high degree of inconsistency and insincerity.25 Clair Apodaca sees “paradox” and an “erratic evolution” in American policies. She asserts that American political leaders have “routinely dismissed, deferred, or rejected human rights issues,” while the public has been willing to ignore faraway violations for “the delusion of security.”26 David Forsythe, too, has found an “ambivalent and inconsistent” record in America’s dealings with authoritarian states.27 Others have highlighted America’s record of nonaccession to multilateral covenants, or have criticized U.S. support to a succession of autocrats, from Ferdinand Marcos and Nicolae Ceauşescu to Suharto and Mobutu Sese Seko.28
These authors argue, to varying degrees, that the United States did not go far enough in its efforts to protect human rights worldwide. This is a defensible position for an activist, but it is rather presumptuous for a scholar of diplomacy. When asserting that human rights should play a more prominent role in American foreign relations, these authors are often correct on the facts. Clearly the United States has had relationships with many undemocratic governments. But writers who assail American “hypocrisy” do so at the risk of ignoring context and experience. The history of international affairs is one of alliances, allegiances, partnerships, and friendships that are constantly in flux; friends quickly become enemies, and vice versa. This has been true for centuries: consider Lord Palmerston’s assertion that Britain had no permanent allies, only permanent interests, and Thomas Jefferson’s admonition against entangling alliances for the United States.
One is bound to see “hypocrisy” or “double standards” in American human rights policies if one believes that consistency is a realistic goal. In fact, consistency is an impossible standard. It is proper, of course, to probe the extent of U.S. support to authoritarian regimes and to assess whether such support facilitates abuse. But we should acknowledge the broad array of American national interests, as well as each nation’s unique customs, traditions, and economic and security needs. Moreover, considering the relative paucity of democracies for much of the past century, a zealous determination to deal only with nations that shared America’s political traditions and social values would have isolated the United States from most of the world. Critics of American inaction also tend to downplay the social complexities that engender authoritarian forms of government. Although many regimes have blatantly violated their citizens’ rights, it has also often been the case that these governments were responding to serious threats from dangerous neighbors, homegrown terrorists, or armed insurgencies.
I offer four major claims. First, although the Cold War was only one chapter in the long human rights narrative (and can, in fact, be considered marginal to this evolution), it was central to the story of human rights in American foreign policy. American human rights politics were deeply embedded in Cold War ideological divisions and domestic political conflicts. These divides were reflected in the selectivity of policies and rhetoric, especially conservatives’ tendency to condemn left-wing governments in Eastern Europe and liberals’ tendency to target right-wing governments in Latin America. Beyond those two regions, authoritarian governments were either dealt with lightly (South Korea, for example) or not at all (China, Saudi Arabia, Cambodia). American participation in the antiapartheid movement in the 1980s was a rare exception to these regional preferences. Although some activists claim that the mainstream of the international movement was unconcerned with political ideologies, in reality activism and policymaking were imbued with ideological biases and preferences.29 Cuba, South Africa, Pinochet-era Chile, and postrevolutionary Nicaragua were especially notable battlegrounds. Policymakers and activists on the right tended to overstate or misrepresent Cuban and Nicaraguan abuses while downplaying those in Chile and South Africa, and those on the left tended to do the opposite. Despite this selectivity, all sides claimed to be furthering not just American interests, but also human interests.
The Cold War thus stimulated and inhibited the global movement.30 Americans consistently denounced communist governments’ abuses after 1945, but many also tolerated allies’ abuses in the name of the global ideological struggle. (Such “allies” could even include communist regimes, such as those in Yugoslavia and Romania, that demonstrated their independence from Moscow.) After the sixties, when American activists and legislators questioned Washington’s support to undemocratic regimes, these governments increasingly defended their (often blatantly repressive) policies as “anticommunist” or “antiterrorist.” Meanwhile, Eastern Bloc activists also shamed their governments for not living up to constitutional guarantees. Some of these activists sought reformed socialism, while others wanted to emulate Western democracies.
Second, this story is defined by a high degree of politicization, and even opportunism. Every part of the policymaking process was politicized, from congressional hearings and foreign aid debates to democracy promotion initiatives and visits of foreign dissidents. Irrespective of politicians’ true feelings (and many were surely motivated, at least in part, by genuine humanitarian concern), “human rights” was a useful oppositional strategy. Virtually every presidential candidate criticized his opponents’ human rights positions. Congressional advocates’ political motives included their desire to attack executive policies, please local constituencies, or enhance their own publicity. In turn, presidential administrations fought pitched battles with Congress and activists over American priorities and their own interpretations of a “moral” foreign policy. As the movement grew, policymakers faced difficult choices concerning what they might gain or lose by their own participation. A few, like Congressman Donald Fraser, participated wholeheartedly and pushed the movement forward, though they did not necessarily gain politically. Others, like Senator Henry Jackson (D-WA) and Senator Edward Kennedy (D-MA), participated selectively and often enhanced their influence in the process. Those who tried to ignore the movement—Henry Kissinger, for example—had to defend their reliance upon older standards of diplomacy while also paying lip service to new norms. One thing remains clear: few policymakers had an electoral mandate to take up human rights, though some did claim one. Fraser, Jackson, Kennedy, and President Carter chose to champion international human rights, much as they might have chosen to champion education or interstate highways.
Third, in light of the mixed motives behind American policies and rhetoric, as well as these policies’ varied outcomes, human rights activity in Washington cannot be explained by any single analytical model—not realism, idealism, paternalism, paradox, bait and switch, or otherwise. There were simply too many unique cases worldwide and too many interests driving American involvement. Some human rights actions were aimed at alleviating suffering, while others were outward projections of U.S. power, interests, or domestic anxieties. Some policies saved the American taxpayer money, while others hindered trade and hurt American business. Some policies challenged communist adversaries, while others pressured allied governments. Some human rights problems were deemed appropriate for American intervention, while many of the most egregious cases were ignored.
Yet although no single model or label can encompass the totality of American human rights policymaking, we can parse out a few general patterns. American policies and proclamations were largely in the national interest—more precisely, in the interest of some Americans—not simply in the interest of altruism or humanitarianism. The United States protested
