九色视频

"This is Our Hemisphere"

The Interamerican Convention on Human Rights as Counter Hegemonic Hemispheric Project, and a Role for Canada

The repeated assertion by US Secretary of State Rubio that 鈥溾�� begs the question of who the 鈥渨e鈥� is in that statement. Although in that particular case it was clearly meant as a reassertion of neo-imperial prerogatives over the Americas (the 鈥渙ur鈥� here referred to a magnified national 鈥渦s鈥�), the statement is a classic performative one. Depending on who says it and in what spirit, it could, of course, be true on its face. The same words proffered by a different individual with a different intention could also mean that the hemisphere is ours because it belongs to 鈥�all of us.鈥� That it is, indeed, our hemisphere (too). That hemisphere is as much 鈥渙f鈥� United States Americans as it is of Brazilians, Peruvians or Cubans. The 鈥渦s鈥� could, in other words, be an inclusive (鈥渦s鈥�) rather than an appropriative one (鈥淯S鈥�), spoken simultaneously by all on the continent to refer to a sense, fugitive as it may be, of a common hemispheric imaginary, from Ushuaia to Nunavut.

But this then begs the question of what might today sustain that imaginary. What could it possibly mean, in the 21st Century, a century characterized by global, including trans-Atlantic and trans-Pacific challenges, to think in specifically hemispheric terms? Is this not necessarily a somewhat retrograde project overemphasizing the value that 19th Century geopolitics assigned to territory? Is it not, in fact, necessarily a hegemonic project, displacing European imperialism for the benefit of a 鈥渂ackyard鈥� version of US neo-imperialism, rekindled for the needs of the moment (i.e. pushing back against perceived Chinese incursions), and focused on narrow extractive ambitions?

Whatever one thinks of those questions, one cannot deny that the White House has, at least, spelt a remarkably explicit vision of what hemispheric identity might mean for itself. It means, to put it simply, a vision of unchallenged US domination over the continent, harnessing gunboat diplomacy, threats of tariffs, sanctions, election interference, natural resource grab, or opportunistic financial rescues of allies, with a view to subjugating not just Latin America and the Caribbean (as the traditional targets of imperialismo) but and as well. It is premised on and reactivates a profound defiance towards open trade relations, economic integration or shared security, as well as a remarkably atavistic return to control over landmass as a marker of power.

That vision, then, is nothing if not clear. The problem is that if hemispheric visions are invested with gusto by the neo-hegemons, it is, by contrast, not clear what a counter-hemispheric vision might build on. In effect and in the moment at least, the initiative has been left to those who would assert hemispheric visions only as a pursuit of imperial projects which it is (not even, as it happens, in the US) except perhaps by those opportunistically tempted to share their Nobel Prizes to ingratiate themselves in the service of their own political subjection. Or has it?

As it happens, shortly after that regional pronunciamiento and purported return to a bygone era, Prime Minister Carney gave his . There are many things to unpack about this speech, which was of course resolute and refreshing coming from Canada, but also, as many have observed, did not say anything that had not long already been painfully obvious to most of the Global South, including Latin America. Moreover, the speech was notable for what it did not mention, including not particularly flagging any particular regional ambition for the Americas. Indeed, in the wake of the speech, Canada turned, in short succession, to both China, Qatar, and the European Union to boost its commercial links. At most, Canada has been inching closer to Mexico as part of a strategy of bonding with the other junior partner in the USMCA.

For the most part, this was in character for Canada, an Atlantist nation through and through whose hemispheric identity has been sorely lacking. Not being in a position to nor interested in acting as a hemispheric imperial power in its own right and, until recently, not having been particularly on the receiving end of US imperial designs on the continent, its long-term attitude to 鈥渢he Americas鈥� might be described as one of benign neglect. But the newfound desire to connect with middle powers cannot afford to ignore the experience of those who have been doing so for decades, including in Canada鈥檚 vicinity. The problem, moreover, is that it is not clear that an alliance of middle powers simply counter-balancing the hegemon is much of a political project, except as a form of sober adaptation to a reality.

What if, however, a hemispheric vision could be a testing ground for precisely such a counter-hegemonic effort? The alliance of middle powers arguably has a name in the hemisphere, it is what is known as the Organization of American States. The InterAmerican system is the heir to thinking about Panamericanism and the regionalization of international law ( comes to mind). It was always meant as a system that would sustain regional cooperation efforts not only around trade, security, or even democracy, but increasingly around human rights. Indeed, one of its glues has long been the Inter-American Convention on Human Rights, a fundamental aspiration to make good on the promise of universal human rights in the Americas. Although one could discuss its achievements, there is little doubt that it has , helping nudge many Latin American states emerging from dictatorship to democracy, pioneering the contours of transitional justice efforts, taking a stance on violence against indigenous peoples etc.

As of now, however, the Inter-American system is and has always been a geographically and civilizationally truncated system. Although the US and Canada are members of the OAS and subjected to the original Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man in 1948, they are not parties to the Inter-American Convention on Human Rights and therefore do not fall under the Inter-American Court鈥檚 jurisdiction. This has given rise to the unusual structure of the Inter-American system of human rights, one in which a large group of mostly Latin American and Central American states fall under the full jurisdiction of the Court and are bound by the more onerous obligations of the Convention, whereas a small coterie of states are subject only to the significantly lesser authority of the Interamerican Commission for violations of the Declaration. The Interamerican Commission and Court thus preside over a fundamentally schizophrenic system.

Institutional and jurisdictional issues aside, there is no doubt that the incomplete membership of the Interamerican human rights system has been a thorn in its side. Not only do US and Canadian (as well as several smaller Commonwealth Caribbean nations) non-participation deprive 400 million individuals of a human rights remedy before an international court (in that respect, clearly a self-inflicted wound) but, occurring along civilizational fault lines as they do, they have reinforced a sense that regional human rights is for the Hispanophones and Lusophones of the South, not for the 鈥溾�� of the North. It has contributed to a sense of international human rights law as a law for 鈥渙thers鈥� that has little to contribute to the relatively rich nations North of the Rio Grande. The system is forever incomplete, belying its Pan-American ambitions and therefore the idea that it is a fully-fledged counter-hegemonic response to US dominance.

Note that, by contrast, the European Court of Human Rights has jurisdiction over most of continental Europe and a little bit beyond, and its quasi-university there (Belarus, and more recently, Russia being out) has been one of the symbols of its strength. It solidifies, in words and deeds, given the very concrete implications of the Court exercising its jurisdiction, a shared commitment to human rights across the vast expanse of the European landmass. Although it is distinct from, it has become closely associated with the main effort at regional integration, the European Union. This is despite the fact that the differences between the 46 European nations that compose it (East and West, Catholic, Orthodox, or Protestant-influenced, social-democratic or neo-liberal, and speaking an infinitely vaster array of languages) are at least as stark as those that oppose North and South America.

There is certainly no hope of the US ratifying the American Convention any time soon. Opposition to any international commitment is, of course, at an all-time high in the moment. In truth, however, the American Convention has long been a consistent non-starter South of the border. The degree of patriotic constitutionalism is such that even similarly worded international instruments have struggled for acceptance. This is of course an opportunity missed especially at a time when the US is rolling back on fundamental liberties, increasingly appears an outlier in terms of its narrow tradition of constitutional rights, and is looking more and more like a 1950s Latin American nation not literally of course in terms of its demographic makeup but in its opting for as its preferred mode of governance. Still, general wariness with international scrutiny means that this is not remotely on the agenda.

Canada, largely for its own historical and constitutional reasons, of course, but also mimicking its big neighbor to the South, has sat out that particular opportunity since 1990. This is despite its otherwise increasingly diligent and positive positioning within the OAS, and its engagement with most universal human rights treaties (which of course do not come with a court鈥檚 jurisdiction). Opposition at times appears to be not so much to the international human rights project as such as to the possibility of a hemispheric vocation for human rights. There are many well-known reasons why Canada has been hesitant to ratify the American Convention, including that it might question the right of abortion or disrupt the fragile balance of relations with indigenous peoples and the potency of the Charter, . The real reason at times seems to be an inability to contend with the notion that Inter-American rights are as much at home in Canada as in Latin-American nations, to imagine a genuinely shared hemispheric co-destiny and to overcome a dualist legal tradition to allow international human rights protections to have real bite domestically.

At a time when defining Canadian identity has never been more crucial and where that identity stands to be largely defined in part by how different Canada is from the US (if at all, and of course the looming counter-claim is very much that it should just be the 51rst US state), the time has come for Canada to ratify the Inter-American Convention, a move of 鈥溾�� that stands to have powerful real world and symbolic effects. First and foremost, this would, of course, grant remedies for human rights violations to persons living in Canada who have exhausted domestic remedies. Despite the Canadian Charter, there is much that could be improved. To fall under the jurisdiction of an international human rights court is to engage in a practice of constitutional humility, acknowledging that, even with the best of intentions, a polity can easily stray far from the core of the international human rights ambition. To be clear, moreover, that humility is in order: from the treatment of indigenous peoples and various minorities, to its poor record in relation to some economic and social rights, .

Second, and perhaps more importantly for our purposes, whatever Canada鈥檚 own domestic reasons for joining, these deeply intersect with regional reasons for it doing so. Canada ratifying the Convention and falling under the jurisdiction of the Court would contribute to deeply normalize its relation to the Americas, belying the canard that international human rights commitments are not for common law, Westminster-type democracies. After all (and not minimizing its recurrent angst about this), the UK was one of the founders and leading participants in the Strasbourg system itself. To ratify the Convention would send a powerful signal that the Pan-American human rights design of the OAS can be perfected, leaving no state in a position of exceptionalism. Indeed, Canada, as it stands, a deeply multicultural nation wracked by the sins of settler colonialism but at least willing to make its Charter of Rights the centerpiece of its constitutional order and engage in reconciliation efforts, may have far more in common with nations in central and South America than its neighbor to the South, at least as it currently stands.

Third, crucially, the argument for joining the American Convention as the backbone of a non-hegemonic hemispheric project outlining a common ideal of the realization of human rights is particularly strong. That ideal is already very much operational in most of the continent, so that one would not be reinventing the wheel as much as deepening a dimension that has always been there since the origins of the OAS. A hemispheric destiny for human rights draws on the commonality and specificity of some defining human rights challenges in the Americas. These involve the legacies of colonialism as they affect indigenous peoples from the descendants of the Incas or the Mayas, from the Yanomani of the Amazon to the Sioux of the Cree of the Southern and Northern plains, all the way to the Inuit of the Great North. They also involve the continued legacies of slavery and their long-term impact in terms of structural discrimination against Peoples of African Descent (where that term is understood as connecting Afro-Brazilians, Afro-Bolivians, Afro-Colombians, Haitians, Jamaicans, Afro-Canadians and Afro-Americans in the narrow sense). They also involve shared histories of discrimination paving the way to a momentous and deeply imbricated migration crisis that cannot be addressed in purely national terms. Also shared are threats to democracy, the danger of political violence, and the undermining of the rule of law which have spread like viruses across the continent. Finally, the Court has been at the heart of efforts to reimagine the human rights project relation to nature in an age of deeply anthropogenic anxiety.

All of these commonalities strongly militate for those who have stayed outside the system for too long to finally make the move. Some of the challenges are different of course, but many are similar: the rise of populism and authoritarianism; rampant inequality; climate-related harm to the most vulnerable. The truth is that many of those challenges are, aside from local, national and universal ones, specifically continental. The human rights project is simply stronger when it is engaged alongside others. Canada joining in this moment would not only fortify the system, . . It is certainly, if nothing else, a vibrant testimony to the aspiration to construct domestic and international legal orders based on shared values that transcend borders.

The American Convention, then, has and could continue to stand as a symbol of the sort of America-wide ambition that the Americas give themselves as against the folly of one nation merely subjecting all others to its will for no better reason than it being the biggest player. Contra a simultaneously predatory and fortress-like vision of hemispherism, the human rights project is at once unifying of the continent, highlighting of its distinctiveness, and open to the world. It could also, as it has long done, elicit genuine and transnational popular support. It is in the process of reclaiming the Americas as the hemisphere of all of us that one can truly harness the constitutive power of human rights.

Fr茅d茅ric M茅gret is a Full Professor of Law at 九色视频. He is the holder of the Hans & Tamar Oppenheimer Chair in Public International Law and a member of the Centre for Human Rights and Legal Pluralism, where he heads the Article Lab. Full biography here.听