Human Rights Are Subjective

NOTE: This essay was originally submitted for the 2025 Hubert Butler Essay Prize, on the theme of "Have we no more active rights over life, birth and death?"

Human rights, in practice, are a matter of opinion.

That may sound flippant, perhaps even insulting, but the truth of the matter is one only needs to look to our actions to realise that rights lack consist, uninterrupted support. Rights have been determined less by logic and morality than by politics, opportunism, and baseless opinion. Rights have been and are denied for little reason, misunderstandings, biases, and sheer ignorance, appearing and disappearing depending on where, when, and what you are born.

Rights are based on nothing more tangible than us.

This may sound like moral relativism, but acknowledgement is not endorsement. If anything, I criticise the supposed objectivity of governments, courts, and society to allocate and rescind rights by no greater method than anyone else is capable of. Moral absolutism, especially through religion or “God given rights”, trades inquiry for the illusion of permanence.

This justification, often appealing to a higher power, both scientific and spiritual, has been used to excuse the slavery of Africans, the infantilisation of women, wars in the name of God, King, and county, antisemitism towards Jews and Muslims, chemical castration of homosexuals and transgendered people, and the use of eugenics on the poor. Now is no different, with migrants being deported without due process, women living in fear of Incels, the queer community being demonised and segregated, those on benefits being forced to jump through hoops to survive, and protestors being silenced, all under the moral absolutism of social media, culture wars, and traditional values.

Interestingly this doesn’t stop a strange fetishism of rights emerging. The comedian George Carlin captured this irony with the line “everyone in this country is running around yammering about their f-ing rights”. More people seem to know they have rights than what those rights are, much less that they also apply to other people. This loving embrace of rights transcends political boundaries to the point where even authoritarians admire them. No one is against rights, but only because they are used less in practice and more rhetorically.

The only constant has been humanity.

Recorded acts of rights and rules have predated many religions, sciences, and nations. Decency and freedoms afforded to each other can exist outside spiritual, scientific, and societal frameworks. And while factors can define rights (e.g. the right to shelter is subject to private property), it is ultimately us and our choices that meet those rights (e.g. we construct homeless shelters.)

Though it sounds utopian to say we can just imagine rights, it’s just as dystopian to insist that we are not the ones constructing the world we live in, as though laws sprout from the ground or referendums fall from clouds. The sooner we realise just how immaterial human rights are the sooner we can make a better world.

Before going further, we must define what is meant by “rights”. Not everyone can agree on what should and shouldn’t count. In a way, this is a clue; an allowance. Something you can do. These allowances might be self-evident, as in the right to breathe, eat, sleep. Actions you do by merely living. They might be allowances of necessity; the right to self-defence, to medical treatment, to speak. And then there are allowances of courtesy; the right to vote, to a fair trial, to learn, to work, to travel. Rights we would want ourselves. We move from personal rights to rights under the state. In theory the more we affect each other the more those rights must be managed. My right to swing my fist ends where your nose begins. In practice, we are reliant upon authority to manage these rights.

There’s a concept called “The Social Contract” by philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau which explains our relationship to authority, often the state. The Social Contract is an unspoken rule where protection of rights is forfeited from individuals to the state, with both parties promising to respect the other. Individuals follow laws set by the state and the state doesn’t rescind rights without cause. Failure to fulfil these conditions is met with punishment, either by imprisoning the individual or revolting against the state. Rousseau failed to consider just how unspoken this arrangement was, giving rise to the misconception that rights are bestowed solely by the state to the individual and not derived from them. This collective amnesia gives authority a mystical quality, making them rife for corruption and abuse.

Consider how, for lack of a better word, lazy we are with enforcing rights. The right to life still allows for the privatisation of food, water, shelter, medicine, and quality of life. We allow for the right to vote but political office is still out of reach for many too young, too poor, or too honest. Equality between the sexes and sexualities still allows for inequality in different countries, different religions, different jobs, different cultures, and different generations. Yet we would never say we don’t have these rights, just that we can’t do everything for everyone. Even those who campaign for rights settle for “good enough.”

Consider those who campaign for the rights of those unborn. Legally speaking, the unborn don’t exist. They have no birth certificate. No passport, no I.D. number, no name, not even a birthday, yet we’re supposed to treat them above the rights of their own mother, who does physically and, more importantly, legally exist, but only up to the point of birth from which point they are left with no greater protection for their rights than anyone else. If the sanctity of life begins at conception, it seems to end on the way out of the vagina.

The history of rights has been of grassroots campaigns appropriated by the state. Rights have been the result of movements, revolts, and revolutions. At best states are amicable, if a little reluctant, to accept calls for more rights, but only if their interests are served. The Magna Carta, for example, considered to be one of the first bills of rights, was only drafted to protect King John on England from revolting barons. The Civil Rights Acts of America quelled civil unrest exhausting public support for the establishment. These are what lawyer and activist Derrick Bell called examples of “Interest Convergence”, where civil progress is afforded only to benefit those in power, either as leverage, good will, or a compromise. It’s important to remember the severity of revolt is always proportional to the refusal of the powerful to concede, yet they still get to claim the moral high ground of both bestowing the right and of appeasing the mob (often before punishing them). Freedom isn’t free.

But rights, while afforded to all, still must be exercised to be of any use. This means rights can be magnified by wealth and influence. Take the right to vote, a fundamental part of modern democracy. While everyone is restricted to a single vote, lobbyists, donors, and think tanks can finance challenges to rights, bombard public opinion, or endorse candidates. This was the case with tech billionaire Elon Musk who bank-rolled the 2024 Trump campaign so much he bought his way into the US government, crippling governmental regulatory bodies that were investigating his companies for violations, firing millions of government employees, and distorting facts about the Trump administration through his social media company X (Twitter). Despite being a conflict of interest, a billionaire had more sway over America than its own citizens, many of whom are being wrongfully deported, imprisoned, and silenced. Money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy democracy.

Yet when alarms are raised for stronger protections on rights, there is no shortage of gaslighting and minimising from those desperate to revoke said rights. When questions about the right to abortion appear, much is made of the many exceptions that already exist. When concern for the queer community arise, many will talk about how laws already exist so why worry. Once again, we’re back to “good enough”.

One of the easiest ways to diffuse concerns is to pay lip-service to how great the rights you already have are, or even how great they will be once redefined. BREXIT campaigners hand waved concerns about trade and movement with romanticised talk of “talking back control”. Avid social media user J.K. Rowling sanitises her attempts to silence critics and oust trans people from public life as “protecting women”. And even religious leaders excuse misogyny, bigotry, and extremism as being their “religious beliefs”. Does this really seem fair that anyone can determine our fate if they just convince everyone they’re right? Does anyone have the right to advocate for the removal of your rights?

The unfortunate part of having and demanding rights is we are beholden to each other for those rights much how a serf is beholden to a lord. This is the appeal of disconnecting from society and living in the woods. Whether it’s Doomsday preppers, cottagecore social media influencers, or the works of Henry David Thoreau, foregoing society in exchange for independence seems like a fair deal, especially when it feels as though you come second to matters of economics, infrastructure, and geopolitics.

It is an unenviable task of any state to balance freedoms and obligations, but we mustn’t overlook the fact that, depending on election results, citizens have no choice but to endure states comprised of people they politically disagree with. Unlike the19th century writer Thoreau, we don’t have the luxury of escaping society. I can’t afford rent; how the hell can I afford a cabin in the woods!

But much like the remarks given by political opponents, defenders of the status quo will deflect your criticism as being self-centred, what anthropologist David Graeber called “rights-scolding”. Unlike the previous examples of minimising concern, rights-scolding is where you’re guilted for the rights you have, as though it’s impolite. A common example would be saying criticising colonialism or slavery is hypocritical, since you still benefited from those injustices through generational wealth and now have the hindsight to know better. Who are you to criticise by today’s standards?

This isn’t a valid argument tough. Saying we can’t judge the past by today’s standards is a disservice to the very existence of people who campaigned (and were punished) for the rights and beliefs we have today (e.g. abolitionists), as well as robbing those denied their rights in the past their recognition today, seemingly out of respect for those who benefitted from the injustice. You’re rhetorically desecrating their graves.

Whether it’s gaslighting or shaming, the point is to silence you.

We’ve seen just how immaterial rights truly are, based more on whims and feelings. They can be excused, magnified, minimised, relaxed, fetishised, and weaponised. Rousseau’s theory was supposed to be warning to hold those entrusted with our rights to account. Our failure to rescind our support has led us to apathy.

Geopolitical bullies Trump, Putin, Farage, Kim Jong-Un, Xi, and Netanyahu expose the uncomfortable reality of rights; they are dependent upon compliance. Our checks and balances were only designed to handle infrequent acts of defiance, not constant attacks on liberty, especially from those sworn to defend them. What do you do when a president ignores the courts? What do you do when a military ignores the UN? What do you do human rights are discarded? What do you do when nobody cares?

The Social Contract is dependent upon both the public and the state holding each other to account. But a mythology around authority has emerged where mandates are taken as a divine right to rule. These figures have realised that so long as you trivialise everything, move quickly, and don’t care, you can do anything. We are in an age of apathy propagated by technology.

While political powers have infringed upon our rights with bombastic callousness, tech, masked in jargon and secrecy, has underhandedly chipped away at privacy and copyright. It’s long been known that tech companies monitor everything we do online (yes, even THAT!) Terabytes of personal data outmatching whole intelligence agencies are being used in everything from catering to online addicts, radicalising children, and selling your information to criminals. This intrusion is so ubiquitous that companies market privacy not as a respectful given but as a product you can purchase.

The latest corrosive venture for tech has been AI generation which, by design, needed to infringe upon the copyrighted works of billions, including you. Even if you’re not an artist, a writer, or a musician, it still stole from you. And now those tech CEOs are lobbying your government to protect them and their crimes (because copyright infringement is illegal) at the cost of your right to your labour. Much like politicians, tech CEOs know the secret is to overwhelm people to the point of apathy.

But what happens to those overwhelmed people?

People try to understand the world, but can sometimes default to stereotypes and inaccuracies, resulting in constructed, and often wrong, beliefs about rights. Imaginary rights. Take for example the Freeman of the Land and Sovereign Citizen movements; groups of anti-governmental activists who believe laws only apply to them if they consent to them. There are then conspiracy theorists who believe certain laws are null and void since they are part of a shadowy plot to take over the world. Insular religious communities will enforce rules that go against preestablished rights, to the point where they’ll even have their own laws, policing, schools, and politics. And then there are “culture war” veterans who will practice their right to free speech to call for book bans without a hint of irony.

I call these imaginary rights because, while my argument remains all rights are abstract, these serve to exclude rather than include, standing in opposition to rights they can’t control. Their response to a world that doesn’t care about them is to not care back.

And this is all our fault because we don’t care. We don’t care enough to help each other, to defend each other, to rally, research, campaign, or even say we care. We don’t care enough to keep the worst people from making our decisions for us. We don’t care to call them out when we see what they’re doing. We should react to our rights being tampered in the same way we would if we saw our property being tampered with; firmly and persistently. The problem is us. It’s only ever been up to us. But the solution is also us. History proves this.

Employee rights came from workers and the poor, not bosses and managers. Emancipation came from slaves and abolitionists, not colonisers and owners. Equality of sexes and genders came from feminists and the queer community, not clergymen and conservatives. And peace came from pacifists and objectors, not generals and leaders. Each success came from the consent of the governed being rescinded, sending the message that if you wish to deny us our rights, you will do so alone.

It is up to us to care again, to choose to believe in rights not as an order but as a non-negotiable promise to each other.

Our greatest freedom is our empathy.

#HI