Realpolitik & Righting Wrongs

America seldom hesitates to wave the banner of human rights. Standing in the long shadow of a century marred by wars, tyranny, and genocide, it's a powerful flag to raise.

But should human rights concerns drive American foreign policy? For the past thirty or forty years, this question has been central to the debate over how we conduct our foreign relations. Time was, this debate was expressed in pretty stark terms: the realpolitik of Kissinger and Kirkpatrick versus the Carter administration's use of human rights as the touchstone of its diplomacy. In recent years, however, the lines have grown blurred.

Put aside, for the moment, the many documented cases of our government refusing to condemn the excesses of anti-Communist dictators during the Cold War. While troubling to say the least, that's not what I'm driving at here. In the cases, rather, where human rights situations were called attention to and were condemned, it seems America has continued to pursue the most advantageous course in realpolitik terms, while rationalizing these actions as the best course for achieving human rights improvements. America does what's most convenient, while polishing our cherished self-image as indefatigable fighters for truth, justice and the rights of man.

Take South Africa in the 1980s. This mineral-rich country had a great deal of strategic significance to the United States and it seemed obvious that the Reagan administration did not want to alienate its leadership. President Reagan, though, did not try to justify apartheid or the hard-line rule of Prime Minister P.W. Botha. Nor did he make a case along the lines famously drawn by then-U.N. Ambassador Jeanne Kirkpatrick in distinguishing authoritarian (our bad guy) from totalitarian (their bad guy) regimes.

The strategic and economic importance of South Africa were not, at least so went the official line, part of the equation. No, Reagan vetoed sanctions (a veto that was subsequently overridden by Congress) because a policy of "constructive engagement," his administration held, would be more likely to bring about human rights improvements for that country's black majority.

Compare this to our approach to the impoverished island of Cuba, where the "best" way to bring the tyrant Fidel Castro to heel is by continuing the trade embargo that has been in place since the Kennedy administration. Presidents and presidential aspirants want the votes of anti-Castro Cuban Americans, so they follow their preferred policy. All, they say again, in the name of human rights.

This week, of course, we have a major vote in Congress over whether or not to extend permanent normal trade status to China. The primary power clash seems to be between the big business view that China's billion represents a vast market for American goods and the labor view, which sees instead a huge pool of cheap, competitive labor. Either way, it boils down to economics.

But that's not where th rhetorical fight is being waged. Instead, we have American labor standing strong against poor working conditions and forced labor in China, while corporate America advocates a form of constructive engagement to ease Chinese government oppression. You'd think that both sides had forsworn monetary concerns in order to dedicate themselves to the greater human good in Asia.

Of course, foreign policy is complex, at times beyond imagining. And political rhetoric does have a tendency to frame issues in terms of more attractive values than a love of the almighty dollar. But perhaps we should consider the broader effect of our cynicism on human rights and foreign policy. We ought to remember, particularly after the century that just drew to a close, just how properly sacred are human rights. Some things just shouldn't be used as political cover.

We may not be able to advance the cause of human rights with every piece of diplomacy and there are those who argue that neither would we try. But we might try to be more honest, starting with ourselves, about when we sacrifice human rights concerns to gain some other end. And then, perhaps, we can begin to come to terms with the world as it truly is and where our values really lie.