Foreign Relations of the United States, 1981–1988, Volume I, Foundations of Foreign Policy

186. Address by Secretary of State Shultz¹

Peoria, Illinois, February 22, 1984

Human Rights and the Moral Dimension of U.S. Foreign Policy

I would like to speak to you today about human rights and the moral dimension of U.S. foreign policy.

Americans have always been an introspective people. Most other nations do not go through the endless exercise of trying to analyze themselves as we do. We are always asking what kind of people we are. This is probably a result of our history. Unlike most other nations, we are not defined by an ancient common tradition or heritage or by ethnic homogeneity. Unlike most other countries, America is a nation consciously created and made up of men and women from many different cultures and origins. What unifies us is not a common origin but a common set of ideals: freedom, constitutional democracy, racial and religious tolerance. We Americans thus define ourselves not by where we come from but by where we are headed: our goals, our values, our principles, which mark the kind of society we strive to create.

This accounts in good part, I believe, for the extraordinary vitality of this country. Democracy is a great liberator of the human spirit, giving free rein to the talents and aspirations of individuals, offering every man and woman the opportunity to realize his or her fullest potential. This ideal of freedom has been a beacon to immigrants from many lands.

We are a people that never felt bound by the past but always had confidence that we could shape our future. We also set high standards for ourselves. In our own society, from Jefferson to Lincoln to the modern day, there have always been keepers of our conscience who measured our performance against our ideals and insisted that we do better. The revolution in civil rights is perhaps the most dramatic recent example, and it has given impetus to other revolutions, such as in women’s rights. We are blessed with a society that is constantly renewing and improving itself by virtue of the standards it has set.

In foreign affairs, we do the same. In the 19th century, when we had the luxury of not being actively involved in world politics, we, nevertheless, saw ourselves as a moral example to others. We were proud when liberators like Simon Bolivar in Latin America or Polish patriots in Europe invoked the ideals of the American Revolution. In the 20th century, since Woodrow Wilson, we have defined our role in the world in terms of moral principles that we were determined to uphold and advance. We have never been comfortable with the bare concept of maintaining the balance of power, even though this is clearly part of our responsibility.

Americans can be proud of the good we have accomplished in foreign affairs.

• We have fought and sacrificed for the freedom of others.
• We helped Europe and Japan rebuild after World War II.
• We have given generously to promote economic development.
• We have been a haven for refugees.

Thus, moral values and a commitment to human dignity have been not an appendage to our foreign policy but an essential part of it, and a powerful impulse driving it. These values are the very bonds that unite us with our closest allies, and they are the very issues that divide us from our adversaries. The fundamental difference between East and West is not in economic or social policy, though those policies differ radically, but in the moral principles on which they are based. It is the difference between tyranny and freedom—an age-old struggle in which the United States never could, and cannot today, remain neutral.

But there has always been tension between our ideals and the messy realities of the world. Any foreign policy must weave together diverse strands of national interest: political objectives, military security, economic management. All these other goals are important to people’s lives and well-being. They all have moral validity, and they often confront us with real choices to make. As the strongest free nation, the United States has a complex responsibility to help maintain international peace and security and the global economic system.

At the same time, as one nation among many, we do not have the power to remake the planet. An awareness of our limits is said to be one of the lessons we learned from Vietnam. In any case, Americans are also a practical people and are interested in producing results. Foreign policy thus often presents us with moral issues that are not easy to resolve. Moral questions are more difficult to answer than other kinds of questions, not easier. How we respond to these dilemmas is a real test of our maturity and also of our commitment.

Approaches to Human Rights Policy

There are several different ways of approaching human rights issues, and some are better than others. One thing should be clear. Human rights policy should not be a formula for escapism or a set of excuses for evading problems. Human rights policy cannot mean simply dissociating or distancing ourselves from regimes whose practices we find deficient. Too much of what passes for human rights policy has taken the form of shunning those we find do not live up to internationally accepted standards. But this to me is a “cop-out”; it seems more concerned with making us feel better than with having an impact on the situation we deplore. It is really a form of isolationism. If some liberals advocate cutting off relationships with right-wing regimes—and some conservatives seek to cut off dealings with left-wing regimes—we could be left with practically no foreign policy at all. This is not my idea of how to advance the cause of human rights.

One unattractive example of this approach derives from theories of American guilt, originating in our domestic debate over Vietnam. There are those eager to limit or restrain American power because they concluded from Vietnam that any exercise of American power overseas was bound to end in disaster or that America was itself a supporter or purveyor of evil in the world. Human rights policy was seen by some as a way of restricting American engagement abroad. Perversely, in this way of thinking, a government friendly to us is subjected to more exacting scrutiny than others; our security ties with it are attacked; once such a government faces an internal or external threat, its moral defects are spotlighted as an excuse to desert it. This is not my view of human rights policy either.

At issue here is not so much a tactical disagreement over human rights policy but fundamentally different conceptions of America and its impact on the world. What gives passion to this human rights debate is that it is a surrogate for a more significant underlying contest over the future of American foreign policy.

There should be no doubt of President Reagan’s approach—not isolationism or guilt or paralysis but, on the contrary, a commitment to active engagement, confidently working for our values as well as our interests in the real world, acting proudly as the champion of freedom. The President has said that “human rights means working at problems, not walking away from them.”² If we truly care about our values, we must be engaged in their defense—whether in Afghanistan and Poland, the Philippines and El Salvador, or Grenada. This is the President’s philosophy: We are proud of our country and of what it stands for. We have confidence in our ability to do good. We draw our inspiration from the fundamental decency of the American people. We find in our ideals a star to steer by, as we try to move our ship of state through the troubled waters of a complex world.

So we consider ourselves activists in the struggle for human rights. As the President declared to the British Parliament on June 8, 1982: “We must be staunch in our conviction that freedom is not the sole prerogative of a lucky few but the inalienable and universal right of all human beings.”

Goals and Techniques of Human Rights Policy

That was philosophy. But on a daily basis, we face practical issues and problems of human rights policy. On one level, human rights policy aims at specific goals. We try, for example, to use our influence to improve judicial or police practices in many countries—to stop murders, to eliminate torture or brutality, to obtain the release of dissidents or political prisoners, to end persecution on racial or other grounds, to permit free emigration, and so forth. Many American officials, including Vice President Bush and myself, have gone to El Salvador and denounced the death squads not only privately but publicly—all of which is having a positive effect.³ We have sought to promote an honest and thorough investigation of the murder of Philippine opposition leader Benigno Aquino.⁴

President Reagan, during his visit to the Republic of Korea last November, publicly stated his belief in the importance of political liberalization.⁵ But we have also made our thoughts on specific cases known privately, and several of these approaches have been successful. In our contacts with the Soviets, we have pressed for the release of human rights activists and for freedom of emigration. There are literally hundreds of such examples of American action. Sometimes we make progress; sometimes we do not—proving only that we still have much to do. In this context, I must pay tribute to your distinguished Senator, Chuck Percy [Sen. Charles H. Percy, R.–Ill.]. No one in the Senate has played a more important role than Chuck Percy in the struggle for the right of emigration for Soviet Jewry and other oppressed peoples, for religious freedoms, and for the release of prisoners of conscience.

The techniques of exerting our influence are well known. We try, without letup, to sensitize other governments to human rights concerns. Every year we put on the public record a large volume of country reports examining the practices of other countries in thorough and candid detail—the rights of citizens to be free from violations of the integrity of the person and the rights of citizens to enjoy basic civil and political liberties. The 1984 report has just been published—nearly 1,500 pages of facts about human rights around the world, something no other country undertakes.⁶ Twice each year, we also send the congressional Helsinki commission a public report thoroughly reviewing the record of Soviet and East European compliance with the human rights provisions of the Helsinki Final Act.

Wherever feasible, we try to ameliorate abuses through the kind of frank diplomatic exchanges often referred to as “quiet diplomacy.” But where our positive influence is minimal, or where other approaches are unavailing, we may have no choice but to use other, more concrete kinds of leverage with regimes whose practices we cannot accept.

We may deny economic and military assistance, withhold diplomatic support, vote against multilateral loans, refuse licenses for crime control equipment, or take other punitive steps. Where appropriate, we resort to public pressures and public statements denouncing such actions as we have done in the case of the Salvadoran death squads, Iranian persecution of the Bahais, South African apartheid, and Soviet repression in Afghanistan.

Multilateral organizations are another instrument of our human rights policy. In the UN Commission on Human Rights, we supported a resolution criticizing martial law in Poland—the first resolution there against a Communist country. The United States has been active and vigorous in regional conferences and organizations, such as the Helsinki process and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. We regret that some multilateral organizations have distorted the purposes they were designed to serve—such as UNESCO [UN Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization], which has not been living up to its responsibility to defend freedom of speech, intellectual freedom, and human rights in general.

Friendly governments are often more amenable to traditional diplomacy than to open challenge, and we therefore prefer persuasion over public denunciations. But if we were never seriously concerned about human rights abuses in friendly countries, our policy would be one-sided and cynical.

Thus, while the Soviet Union and its proxies present the most profound and far-reaching danger to human rights, we cannot let it appear—falsely—that this is our only human rights concern. It is not.

Dilemmas of Human Rights Policy

Clearly, there are limits to our ability to remake the world. In the end, sovereign governments will make their own decisions, despite external pressure. Where a system of government is built on repression, human rights will inevitably be subordinated to the perceived requirements of political survival. The sheer diversity and complexity of other nations’ internal situations, and the problem of coping with them in a dangerous world, are additional limits. How we use our influence and how we reconcile political and moral interests are questions that call not for dogmatic conclusions but for painstaking, sober analysis—and no little humility.

The dilemmas we face are many. What, for instance, is the relationship between human rights concerns and the considerations of regional or international security on which the independence and freedom of so many nations directly depend? This issue recurs in a variety of forms.

There are countries whose internal practices we sometimes question but which face genuine security threats from outside—like South Korea—or whose cooperation with us helps protect the security of scores of other nations—like the Philippines. But it is also true that in many cases a concern for human rights on our part may be the best guarantee of a long-term friendly relationship with that country. There are countries whose long-term security will probably be enhanced if they have a more solid base of popular support and domestic unity. Yet there are also cases where regional insecurity weakens the chances for liberalization and where American assurance of security support provides a better climate for an evolution to democracy. Human rights issues occur in a context, and there is no simple answer.

In the Middle East, to take a very different example, we have no doubt of Israel’s commitment to human rights and democratic values. It is those very values we appeal to when we express our concern for the human rights and quality of life of the Palestinian people in the West Bank and Gaza—a concern that exists side by side with our understanding of Israel’s security needs and our conviction that the basic problem can only be resolved through negotiation.

Another question that arises is: Do we know enough about the culture and internal dynamics of other societies to be sure of the consequence of pressures we might bring? If we distance ourselves from a friendly but repressive government, in a fluid situation, will this help strengthen forces of moderation, or might it make things worse? Pressures on human rights grounds against the Shah, Somoza, or South Vietnam had justification but may also have accelerated a powerful trend of events over which we had little influence, ending up with regimes that pose a far greater menace not only to human rights in their own country but also to the safety and freedom of all their neighbors.

In some countries, harsh measures of repression have been caused—indeed, deliberately provoked—by terrorists, who waged deliberate warfare not only against the institutions of society—political leaders, judges, administrators, newspaper editors, as well as against police and military officials—but against ordinary citizens. Terrorism itself is a threat to human rights and to the basic right to civil peace and security which a society owes its citizens. We deplore all governmental abuses of rights, whatever the excuse. But we cannot be blind to the extremist forces that pose such a monumental and increasing threat to free government precisely because democracies are not well equipped to meet this threat. We must find lawful and legitimate means to protect civilized life itself from the growing problem of terrorism.

The role of Congress is another question. There is no doubt that congressional concerns and pressures have played a very positive role in giving impetus and backing to our efforts to influence other governments’ behavior. This congressional pressure can strengthen the hand of the executive branch in its efforts of diplomacy. At the same time, there can be complications if the legislative instrument is too inflexible or heavy-handed, or, even more, if Congress attempts to take on the administrative responsibility for executing policy. Legislation requires that we withhold aid in extreme circumstances. If narrowly interpreted, this can lead us rapidly to a “stop-go” policy of fits and starts, all or nothing—making it very difficult to structure incentives in a way that will really fulfill the law’s own wider mandate: to “promote and encourage increased respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. . . .”

In the case of El Salvador, the positive impact the Administration has had in its recent pressures against death squads should be a reminder that certification in its previous form is not the only, or even the most effective, procedure for giving expression to our objectives. Sometimes a change in approach is the most worthwhile course. We are ready to work cooperatively with the Congress on this issue, but it should be clear that the answers are not simple.

Finally, the phenomenon of totalitarianism poses special problems. Sociologists and political theorists have recognized for decades that there is a difference between traditional, indigenous dictatorships and the more pervasively repressive totalitarian states, fortified by modern technology, mass parties, and messianic ideology. Certainly, both are alien to our democratic ideals. But in this year of George Orwell, 1984, we cannot be oblivious to the new 20th century phenomenon.

Suppression of religion because it represents an autonomous force in a society; abuse of psychiatric institutions as instruments of repression; the use of prison labor on a mass scale for industrial construction—these and other practices are typical of the modern Marxist-Leninist state. Totalitarian regimes pose special problems not only because of their more systematic and thorough repression but also because of their permanence and their global ambitions. In the last decade we have seen several military regimes and dictatorships of the right evolve into democracies—from Portugal, Spain, and Greece to Turkey and Argentina. No Communist state has evolved in such a manner—though Poland attempted to.

And the Soviet Union, most importantly and uniquely, is driven not only by Russian history and Soviet state interest but also by what remains of its revolutionary ideology to spread its system by force, backed up by the greatest military power of any tyranny in history.

I raise these issues not to assert answers but to pose questions. These are complexities that a truly moral nation must face up to if its goal is to help make the world a better place.

Human Rights and Democracy

The Reagan Administration approaches the human rights question on a deeper level. Responding to specific juridical abuses and individual cases, as they happen, is important, but they are really the surface of the problem we are dealing with. The essence of the problem is the kind of political structure that makes human rights abuses possible. We have a duty not only to react to specific cases but also to understand, and seek to shape, the basic structural conditions in which human rights are more likely to flourish.

This is why President Reagan has placed so much emphasis on democracy: on encouraging the building of pluralistic institutions that will lead a society to evolve toward free and democratic forms of government. This is long-term, positive, active strategy for human rights policy.

It is not a utopian idea at all. For decades, the American labor movement has worked hard in many countries assisting the growth and strengthening of free labor unions—giving support and advice, teaching the skills of organizing and operating. In Western Europe after World War II, it was the free labor unions, helped in many cases by free unions here, that prevented Communist parties from taking over in several countries. Today, free political parties in Western Europe give similar fraternal assistance to budding parties and political groups in developing countries, helping these institutions survive or grow in societies where democratic procedures are not as firmly entrenched as in our own.

The new National Endowment for Democracy, proposed by President Reagan and now funded with the bipartisan support of the Congress, represents an imaginative and practical American effort to help develop the tools of democracy.⁷ Just as our traditional aid programs try to teach economic and agricultural skills, so our new programs will try to transfer skills in organizing elections, in campaigning, in legal reform, and other skills which we take for granted but which are basic to free, pluralistic societies.

Through the endowment, our two major political parties, along with labor, business, and other private groups, will assist countries and groups that seek to develop democratic institutions and practices in their own societies. The President is also directing AID [Agency for International Development], USIA [U.S. Information Agency], and other agencies to strengthen their programs for democracy, such as support for free labor movements, training of journalists, and strengthening judicial institutions and procedures. Sen. Percy also deserves particular credit here for his cosponsorship of the Kassembaum-Percy Human Rights Fund for South Africa, which will channel $1.5 million to private and community organizations in South Africa working for human rights.⁸

It may not seem romantic or heroic to train African magistrates in Zimbabwe, provide technical help to the Liberian Constitution Commission, help publish a revised penal code in Zaire, help finance the education and research program of the Inter-American Institute of Human Rights in Costa Rica, or help provide international observers for free elections in El Salvador—but these programs help create the institutional preconditions for democracy. Democracy and the rule of law are the only enduring guarantee of human rights.

We should never lose faith in the power of the democratic idea. Democracies may be a minority in the world at large, but it is not true that they must always be so. Freedom is not a culture-bound Western invention but an aspiration of peoples everywhere—from Barbados to Botswana, from India to Japan.

In Latin America, for example, where the news is so much dominated by conflict, there is, in fact, an extraordinary trend toward democracy. Twenty-seven nations of Latin America and the Caribbean are either democratic or are formally embarked on a transition to democracy—representing almost 90% of the region’s population, as compared with some 50% less than 10 years ago. And the trend has been accelerating.

Between 1976 and 1980, two Latin American nations, Ecuador and Peru, elected civilian presidents who successfully replaced military presidents. Since 1981, however, El Salvador, Honduras, Bolivia and most recently Argentina have moved from military rule to popularly elected civilian governments.

Brazil is far along the same path. The people of Grenada have had restored to them the right to be the arbiters of their own political future. Uruguay has a timetable for a transition to democracy, and its parties have returned to independent activity. Pressure for return to civilian rule is being felt in Chile and Guatemala. This leaves only Cuba, a Marxist-Leninist state; Nicaragua, which has been steadily moving in that direction; and a handful of dictatorships outside this pattern.

This trend toward democracy, which reflects the most profound aspirations of the people of Latin America, has received wholehearted and effective encouragement from the Reagan Administration. Dictatorship in any form, leftist or rightist, is anathema in this hemisphere, and all states within the region have a responsibility to see that dictatorship gives way to genuine pluralist democracy.

Nor is the trend toward democracy confined to Latin America. In the Philippines, for example, the democratic tradition of that republic is evident in the strong popular pressure for free elections and a revitalized Congress. The government has begun to respond to these aspirations, and we are encouraging it to continue this hopeful process so important to the long-term stability of the Philippines. Likewise in the Republic of Korea, we are encouraged by President Chun’s [Doo Hwan] commitment to undertake in the next few years the first peaceful, constitutional transfer of power in Korea’s modern history.

The Moral Commitment of the United States

A policy dedicated to human rights will always face hard choices. In El Salvador, we are supporting the moderates of the center, who are under pressure from extremists of both right and left; if we withdrew our support, the moderates would be the victims, as would be the cause of human rights in that beleaguered country. The road will be long and hard, but we cannot walk away from our principles.

The cause of human rights is at the core of American foreign policy because it is central to America’s conception of itself. These values are hardly an American invention, but America has perhaps been unique in its commitment to base its foreign policy on the pursuit of such ideals. It should be an everlasting source of pride to Americans that we have used our vast power to such noble ends. If we have sometimes fallen short, that is not a reason to flagellate ourselves but to remind ourselves of how much there remains to do.

This is what America has always represented to other nations and other peoples. But if we abandoned the effort, we would not only be letting others down, we would be letting ourselves down.

Our human rights policy is a pragmatic policy which aims not at striking poses but as having a practical effect on the well-being of real people. It is a tough-minded policy, which faces the world as it is, not as we might wish or imagine it to be. At the same time, it is an idealistic policy, which expresses the continuing commitment of the United States to the cause of liberty and the alleviation of suffering. It is precisely this combination of practicality and idealism that has marked American statesmanship at its best. It is the particular genius of the American people.

1. Source: Department of State Bulletin, April 1984, pp. 15–19. All brackets are in the original. Shultz addressed the 86th annual Washington Day banquet of the Creve Coeur Club of Illinois.
2. The President employed this statement in four addresses delivered in 1983: on March 10 at the annual meeting of the National Association of Manufacturers in Washington; on July 18 at the quadrennial convention of the International Longshoremen’s Association in Hollywood, Florida; in an August 13 radio address to the nation on the situation in Central America; and on August 23, at the annual convention of the American Legion in Seattle.
3. Bush visited San Salvador on December 11, 1983, and met with Magana and other Salvadoran leaders. At a press conference held at the conclusion of the visit, Bush stated: “One of the most urgent problems, of course, is that of the terrorist death squads. We all agree that the death squad murders must stop. They are threatening democratic government in El Salvador by undermining the rule of law and eroding support for the Salvadoran Government in my own country.” (Telegram 11503 from San Salvador, December 12, 1983; Department of State, Central Foreign Policy File, Electronic Telegrams, D830732–0485) Shultz traveled to San Salvador on January 31, 1984, the first stop on an eight-nation visit. After he arrived “at the San Salvador civilian airport, which was cleared of commercial aircraft and heavily guarded by army troops, Mr. Shultz said: ‘The tactics of terror, whether totalitarian terror or whether it is death squad terror, have no place in a democracy. We oppose terror in all its forms.’” (Philip Taubman, “Shultz Indicates Salvadoran Gains on Human Rights: Starting Latin Trip, He Finds ‘Considerable’ Progress in Curbing Death Squads,” New York Times, February 1, 1984, pp. A1, A10)
4. Aquino was assassina/ted at Manila International Airport on August 21, 1983.
5. See footnote 2, Document 171. In an address before the Korean National Assembly in Seoul on November 12, 1983, the President said: “The United States realizes how difficult political development is when, even as we speak, a shell from the North could destroy this Assembly. My nation realizes the complexities of keeping a peace so that the economic miracle can continue to increase the standard of living of your people. The United States welcomes the goals that you have set for political development and increased respect for human rights for democratic practices. We welcome President Chun’s farsighted plans for a constitutional transfer of power in 1988. Other measures for further development of Korean political life will be equally important and will have our warm support.” (Public Papers: Reagan, 1983, Book II, p. 1589)
6. Country Reports on Human Rights Practices for 1983: Report Submitted to the Committee on Foreign Affairs, U.S. House of Representatives, and the Committee on Foreign Relations, U.S. Senate, by the Department of State in Accordance With Sections 116(d) and 502B(b) of the Foreign Assistance Act of 1961, as Amended, 96th Congress, 2d session, Joint Committee Print, February 1984 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1984).
7. See footnote 8, Document 161 and Document 179.
8. The Kassebaum-Percy amendment was included in the Department of State Authorization Act, Fiscal Years 1984 and 1985 (H.R. 2915; P.L. 98–164; 97 Stat. 1017), which the President signed into law on November 22, 1983.