Without Borderlines

In Henry Shue's book Basic Rights, he frames solutions to problems of global justice in the modern language of human rights. At the bare minimum, everyone has an inalienable right to enjoy (read: actually experience) the basic necessities that allow them to continue to exist. Some philosophers and political scientists extend these rights further and say that a distinction between the narrow "basic" rights and the broader "human" rights (to freedom of expression, freedom of conscience, etc.) is a false dichotomy. They would argue that the minimum is all that is necessary for full physical and mental flourishing. They have a point, insofar as a life where you are free from physical harm but filled with terror or perpetually thwarted in pursuit of non-state-sanctioned intellectual quests would be quite disappointing in its own way. But let us simply take the basic rights, for they are somewhat more difficult to quibble with. (A utilitarian would take a completely different approach to the problem, one that likely does not refer to rights at all, which might actually make them better able to provide a coherent transition from basic rights to the full complement, but they have other important criticisms to deal with.)

According to Shue, there are two basic rights: 1) subsistence rights, or rights to food and water; and 2) security rights, which are rights to be free from physical violation, injury, or violence. He begins his book with a concern for rejecting the idea that the former is "positive," or calling for specific action--we should feed the hungry--and the latter is "negative," or calling for personal restraint only--do harm to no one. He urges that both rights are positive, demanding that those with the power to do so are morally obligated to ensure not only that people are fed, but that they are safe.**

This is an interesting spin, given that it seems like our aid programs concentrate much more on the "safe" problem of feeding those who are starving. Some do address the physical well-being of their recipients, usually through medical relief--preventive, routine, or through post-disaster trauma care. However, doctors are usually not simultaneously equipped to physically protect their patients from further harm. 

I think a large part of it stems from the fact that we can go and take pictures with adorable, if frail children to celebrate our generosity, but nobody wants to go into a war zone. Because--and this seems to be the most critical point to me--to ensure that others are able to enjoy their basic right to physical security from harm, we have to lay down our own claim to that same right and deliberately take some of the risks of their situation upon ourselves. 

Here, of course, is where it becomes infinitely more complicated, and I can't and don't deny that. It is always one thing to say that someone, by mere dint of being human, deserves to go to sleep at night without fear of mortal harm. It is another thing to act against the Bashar Assads or the Boko Harams of the world. Arguably, it is less difficult to deal with the systematic harassment of black men in the U.S., which all of American history encapsulates as an ongoing bloody tragedy. But here I think it is fair to make this one us vs. them comparison: while we should never reduce the security claims of people in developing nations on the grounds that "they're used to violence and turmoil," we do have more agency and internal influence to alter systems in our country of citizenship than we have in, say, Syria. There diplomacy becomes all the more important, because we do not want our political activities to result in further individual loss.

Perhaps the hardest part is that I absolutely do not want to advocate going to war. I'm deeply sympathetic with the pacifism of my Mennonite forebears, whether they developed a systematic justification for it or not, and I think that nonviolence is one of the great untried solutions to so many of our problems. It definitely requires playing a long, patient, and oft-times barren game, but I cannot believe that violence solves violence. Communities heal. War destroys--not just once, but a hundred times over, as it stirs up resentments, encourages rivalries, facilitates the further production and circulation of weapons, and trains young men (and young women) for a life in which their skill set is dominating, inspiring fear, and killing other people. So how, then, do we carefully, responsibly mobilize at grassroots and national levels to protect others' rights to physical security?

No answers. But damn, do I ever want to know the answer to that question.

**It has been a while since I read Shue closely, so my apologies if I have misrepresented his position in any way. That being said, I don't think anything that I have said is too far afield of his work.