As awareness of the global climate crisis has increased, so has popular support for electric vehicles (EVs). Fossil fuel emissions from non-electric vehicles are a massive contributor to the climate crisis; greenhouse gas emissions from transportation are responsible for the largest share of greenhouse gas emissions in the United States. Though the EV movement has been embraced as a vital step in addressing the climate crisis, the movement has far-reaching, often unseen human rights implications. Forced labor, child labor, and sexual abuse are all common occurrences at one of the most important locations for the production of electric vehicles: cobalt mines in the copper belt of Africa. 

The first steps toward the electric vehicle were in the 1800s, following the creation of the battery and the electric motor. The first successful electric cars were built in the final decade of the century, sparking the first stages of the electric vehicle movement. Though the strength of the electric vehicle movement dipped dramatically in the 1910s following the large-scale production and widespread sale of Henry Ford’s Model T, interest finally increased during the gas shortages of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Roughly 20 years after the gasoline shortage and subsequent increase in gasoline prices, the movement was reinvigorated by the Clean Air Act Amendment and the 1992 Policy Act. As a result of widespread transportation emissions regulations, auto companies began manufacturing more – and better – EVs.  

Understanding how EVs function is vital to understanding the human rights implications of the movement. The use of lithium-ion batteries, for which cobalt is a critical component, is the main culprit of the human rights concerns related to EVs. However, without cobalt, the batteries that power electric vehicles wouldn’t be able to drive as far, last as long, charge as fast, or be as stable. 

The Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) – located in what’s known as the “copper belt” in Africa – is one of the most resource-rich nations in the world. The resource abundance in the Congo led to its colonization by the Belgians in the 19^th century. Since, the nation has been plagued by exploitation of its resources leading to incredible levels of poverty among the people of the DRC. This exploitation is largely due to the abundance of cobalt as the country has the largest reserves of cobalt in the world.  

Artisanal small-scale mining (ASM) – mining by individuals and groups rather than corporations – is supposed to make up only a small, highly regulated portion of the cobalt mining in the Congo. Despite this, the proportion of cobalt mined through ASM is overwhelming. It is in the areas rife with artisanal small-scale miners rather than industrial mining where the most human rights abuses take place.  

Because of the extreme poverty faced by many Congolese people – due in part to government corruption – many children are forced to work in these mines; roughly 40,000 children, as young as six, work in ASM. As a result, few children receive adequate education. Miners typically earn less than $2 per day and are made to take part in back-breaking labor and expose themselves to toxic substances in the process. Deaths due to tunnel collapses are common, as is sexual assault of women and girls. Miners, however, have nowhere else to turn. Jobs are scarce and the demand for cobalt is ever-increasing, though miners’ wages are not. While some changes have been made to this process – the Congolese government has adopted a mining code and is setting aside more land for formal ASM – progress has been slow. However, some companies have started trying to formalize ASM projects, by regulating mining methods and working conditions. Standards for mine safety and child labor must be established to ensure responsible cobalt sourcing. Even though most of the change that needs to happen is at the company or government level, people can still help make a change in this area. By naming and shaming corporations that use cobalt from artisanal small-scale mines, those disconnected from the mining industry and the DRC can make an impact. It is vital to address climate change, but it is just as important to ensure that we are not enabling practices that blatantly violate human rights in the process.

Photo Credit: https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2023/02/01/1152893248/red-cobalt-congo-drc-mining-siddharth-kara

Over the last several years, human rights have been at the heart of much of the widely known international news. The #BoycottMulan campaign, which began in 2019, was a response to a comment by the film’s star supporting Hong Kong police in their crackdown on political demonstrations. The film also drew negative media attention for its use of the Xinjiang region, where China is known to abridge the human rights of Uighurs. In 2022, international outcry arose when Iranian Mahsa Amini died as a result of brutality from the morality police who punished her for not wearing her hijab properly. Today, issues concerning the Israel-Palestine conflict are often couched in terms of human rights. American activism on issues like these demonstrate that they care about universal human rights. However, while they protest abuses, they are simultaneously undergoing a moral revolution that undermines support for the very existence of universal human rights.

A key component of this revolution is the rise of moral relativism. This ideology has staked a claim on a large portion of our population and is manifested in common positions on cultural hot topics. For example, “My body, my choice” can be justified two ways. One way is to suggest the primary moral issue concerns controlling women. The other signifies advocates believe morality is relative to the individual, or at least no one has a superior claim to have figured morals out, and so they should not force their moral interpretation on others. Either way, these interpretations of the refrain are directly or effectively examples of moral relativism because they indicate that it is fine to have different opinions on moral issues, but you cannot enforce yours on others. 

While the abortion example is just one particular interpretation of a particular issue, there is evidence that such moral relativism is fairly prevalent in the United States. Philosophy professor Thomas Polzler teamed up with psychologist Jennifer Wright to study this very topic. In a 2019 study of about 100 students and workers, they found that moral realism, which is the belief that morals are an objective and universal reality, was less common than anti-realism, which encompasses both the belief that morals do not exist at all and the belief that they are subjectively determined. More specifically, Polzler and Wright found that 64% of respondents believed moral truth was either determined by their own or their culture’s dominant moral beliefs. A much larger study of about 1,000 interviews in 2015 confirms Polzler and Wright’s conclusion. Barna Group, a private, non-partisan organization, found that 57% of American adults agreed that knowing what is right or wrong is a matter of personal experience. 65% of respondents agreed strongly or somewhat with the view that “every culture must determine what is acceptable morality for its people” while only about a third of respondents believed moral truth is absolute.

This moral revolution has significant implications for American support of human rights. The concept of universal human rights presumes at least a basic level of universal and objective morality. Universal human rights suggests that there are certain behaviors that no one, no matter their culture or beliefs or background, can engage in without actually wronging someone else. However, the erosion in belief in objective morality in the US has triggered a need to reconsider whether our culture’s philosophy justifies support for universal human rights at all. If one group of people can justly proclaim another person or group immoral, then the morality of the criticized behavior must supersede culture. If we are right to proclaim China to be immoral for sending Uighurs to concentration camps or Israel for failing to protect Palestinian civilians or Hamas for waging war using civilian human shields, then there must be at least some basic moral code that exists above the individual or cultural level. However, if we adhere to the ideologies that the research suggests are taking hold of Americans, then we have no basis for declaring another individual or culture in the wrong for behaviors it engages in outside our borders. For if each culture decides its own morality, then it can decide it is not immoral to elevate one people group within the culture and oppress another. If morality depends on the individual, then we do not even have grounds to judge others in our own culture, let alone in another. If either of these ideologies are true, our condemnation of a foreign culture or state has no place pressuring them to change because we have no right to tell anyone else what they should and should not do. Our condemnations would be nothing more than commentaries on cultural differences or expressions of personal preferences. 

While this shift to moral relativism has not stopped many from speaking out against human rights violations yet, belief in our domestic lives that morality is individually subjective, or at least culturally determined, philosophically undermines our condemnation of international abuses and cripples our ability to address them. If people truly believe that they are right in their condemnations, they must believe in at least some universal morality. If we want to be credible actors on the issue of human rights, we must have a standard by which to identify them. Without universal morality providing consistent guiding moral principles, even if we agree to support human rights because doing so feels right, disagreement over what counts as a right or as an infringement will increase. We will face increasing challenges in our engagement with this field because each protester and decision maker will be guided by his or her own preferences and intuitions rather than by a shared objective standard to work towards.

Americans have a decision before us. We can continue along the path of this moral revolution, upholding relativist views in our personal lives at the cost of having a justification for condemning atrocities beyond ourselves or our society, or we can return to moral objectivism as the first step to upholding human dignity through the support and defense of human rights. This return will not resolve all of the troubles and challenges we face in upholding human rights. However, without even admitting to the existence of universal morality, we remove the very possibility of there being a reliable guide for identifying human rights or a reason to engage in such issues beyond the manifestation of our own preferences. We must reverse course before the moral revolution taking hold in the United States finishes its exchange of justification for universal human rights with the affirmation of individual and cultural relativism.

Photo Credit: https://www.pexels.com/photo/handwritten-message-on-brown-background-6185320/.

In South America, green scarves have been a symbol of resistance against the mistreatment of women for decades. The use of the color green stems from its symbolization of growth, nature, and life. Though previously associated with anti-abortion activism, the term “life” was reclaimed by — and ultimately became synonymous with — The Green Wave, a pro-choice movement fighting for decriminalization and legalization of abortion. Beginning in Argentina, the debate inspired by the movement made human rights topics such as feminism and abortion access far more commonplace. The discussion of these issues spread to neighborhoods and restaurants; one might even find men drinking coffee and discussing abortion rights in a local cafe. With the spread of these discussions came the spread of the green bandanas used by the movement throughout schools and cities. Students tied them to their backpacks; women wore them in their hair. Soon, the country began to run out of green fabric altogether. The movement quickly spread throughout South America, resulting in offshoot movements that led to the legalization of abortion in Argentina and the decriminalization of abortion in Mexico and Colombia.

In contrast to the historic results of the South American pro-choice movement, the United States has recently seen a regression in citizens’ legal rights to abortion. In fact, the United States is just one of four countries to further restrict access to abortion in the 21^st century. In 2022, Roe v. Wade, a case that heavily limited states’ ability to restrict abortion, was overturned. In their dissenting opinion, Justices Breyer, Sotomayor, and Kagan wrote that the decision means that “young women today will grow up with fewer rights than their mothers and grandmothers.” The overturning of this landmark case means that states are free to restrict abortions as they see fit. In many states, this means that women will not have access to abortion services at all and could even face criminal charges for seeking such services.

One thing that may account for the variance in success is the central focus or argument of the US movement in comparison to that of the Green Wave. Prior to its overwhelming success, the Green Wave movement, similar to the US pro-choice movement, focused its arguments for legalizing abortion on religion and morality. The Green Wave first began to achieve its political success when it switched its central argument – abortion, the activists began to argue, was an issue of public health and human rights. Focusing the argument on women’s rights and maternal health prevents the conversation around abortion rights from deteriorating into accusations of immorality, a common occurrence in the US debate on abortion. This shift in focus by the US pro-choice movement would also encourage public discussion of human rights issues, a tactic which made a significant difference in South America.

An additional aspect of the Green Wave movement, which has accounted for some of its success, is its grassroots nature. While a significant portion of the US pro-choice movement is grassroots, there remains a strong association with large organizations such as Planned Parenthood. This is something that may be detrimental to the success of US activists as the movement becomes less about its goals and values and more about the organizations involved. If one disagrees with Planned Parenthood, they are never going to get involved, even if they agree with other aspects of the movement. In this way, associating with large organizations is hindering the success of US abortion rights activists.

On the heels of such a substantial setback of human rights, the upcoming actions of the pro-choice movement will define not only abortion rights but women’s rights in the United States for decades to come. The US pro-choice movement must learn from the Green Wave in South America if it too hopes to legalize abortion. 

(Photo/University of Chicago Law School)

Around the world, inter-state conflict, climate change, and other geopolitical factors have led to the forced displacement of millions of people, leaving them in a precarious legal situation. People become stateless due to a change of state sovereignty. One of the most significant cases was the separation of the Soviet Union, resulting in people being citizens of a country that no longer exists. Other situations resulting in statelessness include legal discrimination based on ethnicity, as can be seen with the Rohingya people in Myanmar, who have been denied citizenship since 1982. In addition, Palestinians are not recognized by the U.S. Department of State, making citizenship documents ordained by the Palestinian Authority invalid. A lack of recognition or sovereignty from their home countries makes it difficult for stateless refugees to gain legal standing or rights in any nation they enter. This condition is legally known as statelessness. The UN 1954 Convention relating to the Status of Stateless Persons defines a stateless person as “individuals who are not considered citizens or nationals under the operation of the laws of any country.” It is estimated that around 4.3 million people are stateless around the world, with 218,000 stateless people living in the United States, according to the Department of Homeland Security.  

The legal limbo of statelessness has become a nightmare for many people within the U.S., where the issue is a significant, yet often unnoticed, challenge. Lacking citizenship and legal documents from their countries of origin has made establishing a new life in the U.S. a challenge, leading to stateless people being denied the ability to work or have access to critical services, such as healthcare and housing. Without legal status, stateless people in the U.S. face deportation with no possibility to gain legal permanent status. Many stateless detainees in ICE detention centers have been noted to face indefinite incarceration, often ending in deportation to countries where they are not citizens. This indefinite detention, combined with the uncertainty of their future, takes a significant toll on the mental and emotional well-being of many stateless people. According to a study conducted by the Center for Migration Studies, many stateless people within the U.S. face declines in their mental health due to the stressors of daily life without legal documents. In many cases, children born to stateless parents in the U.S. inherit the same status, perpetuating a cycle of statelessness for generations. 

In the United States, numerous stateless individuals don’t have the opportunity to establish their legal standing because both federal and state governments have not adequately recognized or defined statelessness. This has prompted numerous human rights organizations to advocate for the rights of stateless individuals, emphasizing the need for reform and more inclusive policies in state legislation. One of the most important organizations working for stateless people within the U.S. is United Stateless, which works to lobby for legislative reforms to recognize the legal rights of stateless people. The organization’s mission involves urging the national and state governments to establish a legal status for stateless people, as well as creating a pathway to citizenship for stateless people living without residence status. Moreover, United Stateless urges the establishment of special temporary work permits for stateless workers while their legal status is being resolved. 

As of 2021, the Department of Homeland Security made the first move towards recognizing the existence of stateless residents in the U.S., announcing their “commitment to adopt a definition of statelessness for immigration purposes and enhance protections for stateless individuals.” This was the first time a federal agency recognized the legal challenges presented by stateless people, offering the first definition offering legal protection for people with a stateless status. This month, the U.S. Citizen and Immigration Services (USCIS) published a policy recommendation manual for stateless noncitizens to file their legal status for a path towards a guaranteed legal status, including accommodations for missing documents and describes the process for defining stateless status for immigration offices. 

In a PBS NewsHour documentary, the executive directors of United Stateless shared their experiences living in America as stateless people. The first, an Ethiopian-Eritrean man named Miliyon Ethiopis became stateless when Ethiopian authorities tortured him because of his Eritrean ethnicity and confiscated his passport in his attempt to flee the country. Ethiopis now lives in Maryland, where he is able to obtain a driver’s license due to the state allowing undocumented drivers to obtain one. He tries to retain some form of normalcy but notes, “We always try to maintain, like do normal things, what Americans asking, go to work, pay tax, be a good citizen, no criminal, nothing. And we go back. We pay taxes and everything. But, at the end of the day, you don’t get anything back.” 

Likewise, Karina Ambartsoumian-Clough fled Ukraine due to violent discrimination against her Armenian ethnicity and arrived in Canada where she was denied a legal status. When she came to the U.S. in hopes of being granted asylum, she became stateless due to the regional collapse of the Soviet Union. She recounts, “I remember we were also advised to go to the Ukrainian embassy to retrieve travel documents. I remember being told, like, sorry, we don’t recognize you as a citizen.” Ambartsoumian-Clough was able to obtain DACA status and became married to an American citizen, however, she does not have a viable path to citizenship due to her statelessness. “Not being a citizen of any country in the world limits you for your access to your human rights. Without having a country that recognizes me, I don’t have any laws that protect me. There’s no embassy I can go to. I don’t have access to travel documents. I don’t have a passport,” Ambarthosoumian-Clough stated. 

These individual stories not only echo the shared struggles of stateless people living in our country but underscore the pressing need for changes in legislation and policies aimed at helping people with stateless status. Despite some progress, the current national legal framework remains insufficient in addressing the unique needs and vulnerabilities of stateless people.