• Subcribe to Our RSS Feed

The Emergence of Transnational Human Rights Norms: Shaping the Political Environment for International Climate Policy

Aug 1, 2011 by     No Comments    Posted under: Volume I, Issue 1

By Rebecca Chan, Columbia University

Framing climate change as a human rights issue is politically and substantively salient; rights-based claims have brought certain issues to greater prominence and climate change threatens provisions of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. In this paper, I focused on transnational norm emergence in the US, whose involvement is crucial to successful climate legislation. I examined corporate social responsibility and women’s human rights, two campaigns whose rights-based norms recently and rapidly emerged, to gain insight into strategies for promoting new international regimes. New classes of rights-bearers or –protectors were created, and strategically reframing the issues led to norm emergence.

Keywords: climate change, human rights, norm, corporate social responsibility, women’s  human rights

The Emergence of Transnational Human Rights Norms: Shaping the Political Environment for International Climate Policy

Introduction: International Climate Agreements

Progress toward a binding international climate treaty appears to have come to a grinding halt. Recent climate negotiations have proven ineffective: The goal of the last round of major international climate talks at the 16th United Nations Conference of the Parties held in Copenhagen in 2009 was to create a new, binding agreement for addressing climate change post-2012, when the (non binding) Kyoto Protocol is set to expire. Although there were high hopes for the meeting, the ultimate outcome was a weak, “politically” but not legally binding accord (“Danish PM Upbeat On New Global Climate Deal,” 2009). While many states have far from ideal positions on climate policy and emissions regulation, it has become increasingly clear that without significant commitment and action by the United States, international climate negotiations will remain as ineffective and inconclusive as they currently are.

The crucial role of the US is both substantive and political. In the past few decades, the US, which accounts for less than 5% of the total world population (“World Population Summary,” 2011), has been responsible for 20 to 25% of global carbon emissions (“International Energy Outlook 2010,” 2010). The US is a leader not only in terms of emissions but also in international politics; the failure of comprehensive climate agreements is frequently traced back to the lack of US support. Eileen Claussen and Elliot Diringer (2007), President and Director, respectively, of International Strategies at the Pew Center on Global Climate Change, argue that “what is needed above all right now is US leadership, for no country bears greater responsibility for climate change, nor has greater capacity to catalyze a global response” (Diringer & Clausen, 2007, p. 2).

The US line has been that without developing nations, especially China—which recently surpassed the US to become the world’s biggest emitter—and India committing to reduce their emissions, it would be both futile to global reductions in emissions levels and detrimental to US economic interests for the US to commit to lowering its own emissions. China has refused to commit to emissions reductions unless the US signs on. I would argue that given the political structure of the US, its position is, at this point, more malleable than is China’s. As it stands, the US’s reluctance to sign international agreements on climate change is a testament to the strength, symbolic or otherwise, of those agreements but not to the strength of the norm calling for industrialized states to cut their emissions. The ratification of a binding international climate treaty would signal the prominence of the norm, if not the actual enforcement of its provisions. Though it may not prompt immediate and decisive action, the ratification of such a treaty would indicate the beginning of a powerful movement that would, ultimately, have the power to change state behavior.

Norms and Human Rights

Due to the power of norms in shaping state behavior, I argue that strengthening norms that would be enforced by a binding international agreement, or even creating new norms to support such legislation, has the potential to bring about a comprehensive agreement. For the purposes of this paper, I will focus on patterns of transnational issue and norm emergence in the US, the actor whose involvement, at this point, could carry the most impact. I focus on rights-based norms because: a) these have been particularly effective in bringing certain issues to greater prominence; and b) there is a strong theoretical basis for framing climate change as a human rights issue. Article 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), the most fundamental document delineating the most widely accepted standards of human rights, states that “everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control” (Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 1948, Article 25). Though largely considered an aspirational treaty, its provisions are, nonetheless, legitimate. These most basic of rights will clearly be threatened by rising sea levels, changing precipitation and weather patterns (compromising food security), and, of course, changing temperatures worldwide. The unequal distribution of these consequences is a direct violation of Article 1 of the UDHR (1948), which states that “all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood” (Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 1948, Article 1).

These issues are no longer hypothetical or dystopian. Climate change has begun to create some of the world’s first environmental refugees, forced out of their lands by rising sea levels. The Carteret Islands, small islands of Papua New Guinea, are quickly being engulfed by the ocean, and it is projected that by 2015 the islands could be mainly submerged and completely uninhabitable (Rakova, 2009). Unlike wartime refugees or those fleeing persecution, the Carteret islanders will have no possibility of ever returning home. Because these are such new issues, these people are largely missing from the rights discourse and are not included in the United Nations’ definition of “refugee” (Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, 1951).[1] There have also been efforts to link climate change to human rights through legal channels. In 2005 the Inuit, the indigenous people of the Arctic, petitioned the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights seeking relief from violation of the Inuit’s human rights by climate change, due in large part to the greenhouse gas emissions practices of the United States (“Inuit Human Rights Petition Filed over Climate Change,” 2005). With ice melting, the Inuit’s traditional food sources and overall way of life were quickly disappearing. The Commission is still investigating the petition.

Ultimately, it is the actions of industrialized nations that are threatening the way of life of significantly less wasteful societies. This exporting of harms and delocalized consequences of certain parties’ actions makes establishing accountability measures infinitely more complicated from both a legal and a normative standpoint. I advocate bottom-up change, with a changing normative atmosphere then leading to changing legal standards and eventually state behavior.

To gain insight into the creation of rights-based norms, I will examine two cases of transnational, rights-based norms that have recently emerged very rapidly and with varying degrees of success. I draw specifically from past campaigns that have had at least some degree of success—namely, corporate social responsibility (CSR) and women’s human rights (WHR)—with the goal of translating these characteristics and strategies to current campaigns promoting rights-based norms and contrasting them to gain better insight into effective strategies for promoting new international regimes. I argue that this analytical frame holds the most potential to encourage the US to sign onto binding international climate agreements. In each of these cases, new classes of rights-bearers or –protectors were created, and the strategic reframing of the issues—initially, labor standards and violence against women—did, in fact, lead to norm development and emergence.

It is important to note that the domestic politics of a particular state cannot be omitted from the discussion of international events. This is especially true given that there is a great deal of momentum for comprehensive international climate legislation, and this legislation is being systematically blocked by a few “critical states”—namely, the United States and Canada—without whom such agreements are largely meaningless. Norm change is essentially a shifting of ideas, which has the power to affect the political climate both internationally and domestically.

The use of normative frames has already had a significant impact on environmental politics. Climate change legislation has been blocked by opponents who have successfully framed environmental legislation as a policy that will hurt the economy. This has played out on two levels and has been extremely effective in each. On a smaller, more traditional scale, corporations have long resisted regulation of any kind, and, more recently, have resisted environmental regulation especially strongly. Unsurprisingly, the private oil lobby has been very active in preventing the passage of environmental legislation on a domestic scale. This activism is compounded by the fact that they have access to vast sums of money, which, in light of the recent Supreme Court decision Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, gives them direct control not simply over policies but also over the election of the politicians who enact them. Six of the seven companies who spend the greatest amounts on lobbying are oil companies. Since 1999, the oil, gas, and coal industries have spent $2 billion lobbying Congress to push their financial interests (“Dirty Money,” 2010).

This kind of opposition has been present and active for the past half century. The environmentalism of the 1970s, with the Clean Air Act and Clean Water Act as well as the renewed focus on national parks, represents an era in which conservation was the fundamental environmental principle and Rachel Carson, with her pivotal work Silent Spring, was the face of the movement. While that is certainly still present today—after all, some major goals of the environmental movement are to conserve biodiversity and remaining fuel supplies—the movement has become a more forward thinking one, addressing long-term infrastructure and development issues with a push for more advanced renewable energy technology and more efficient energy use in general. The added dimension stems from the fact that the US’s position on international legislation is directly tied to the state of domestic environmental legislation. American leaders have repeatedly stated that Congress’s approval of environmental legislation will facilitate a stronger American position in international climate agreements, which, once ratified by the US Senate, become national law as well. With the lack of action on the Kerry-Boxer clean energy bill in the Senate,[2] the most ambitious push for clean energy in US history, this is not promising.

These two levels of opposition are compounded and strengthened by the fact that private companies and organizations opposing climate legislation have not simply lobbied government officials but also targeted the public. They have extremely effectively created a normative frame in which regulation to protect the environment or even invest in clean energy is perceived as a move to destroy jobs and weaken the American economy. The somewhat controversial “green jobs” movement is a direct consequence of this, a purely reactionary frame intended to overcome and even replace the environment versus the economy paradigm with one that equates the interests. Environmentalism has also been framed as a moral and ethical choice, but in a highly philosophical way—conservation biologist E.O. Wilson, in his best-selling book, The Creation: An Appeal to Save Life on Earth, specifically addresses the religious community, emphasizing stewardship of all that God has created (Nisbet, 2009). Though there are many frames, the ones linking the environment to the economy (for better or for worse) have dominated discussion. However, for all their ideological and economic strength, none of these frames has a strong political basis.

Furthermore, on an individual level, it is difficult to make a politically salient economic argument in favor of environmental legislation, which generally requires increased regulation, energy research, or both. While these strategies are economically advantageous from both an ecological standpoint, in that they guarantee more resource security, and from a financial standpoint, which acknowledges that energy savings will contribute to lower costs, the benefits are long-term. The payoffs are years, if not decades, away. When these policies are competing with other measures that boast immediate benefits, economic or otherwise, it is difficult to make the case for them within a purely economic frame. It is especially difficult for a leader, who is elected for a much shorter time frame, to back such a policy. Strengthening political support for this legislation will require a new way of thinking about climate change.

Patterns of Norm Emergence

Using Finnemore and Sikkink’s (1998) definition of the term “norm” as “a standard of appropriate behavior for actors with a given identity,” I apply their norm emergence framework to the issue of international climate agreements (p. 891). In this framework, the US represents a “critical state,” one whose resistance to accept the norm has prevented the “norm cascade” that leads to widespread adoption as reflected in policy change, and, though there may be significant lag time, in behavior change (Finnemore & Sikkink, 1998, p. 891). It is apparent that other nations have been unable or unwilling to put enough pressure on the US to prompt it to sign on to binding international agreements. This is almost certainly due to the fact that they lack (most likely material) leverage over the US. However, I argue that normative change, both domestic and international, has the potential to shape US policy and its position on international environmental agreements both by influencing the American public and by giving other states enough normative and moral power to counterbalance their lack of political and material leverage.

While Finnemore and Sikkink (1998) note that “norm conformance can often be self-interested” (p. 912), I argue that norm conformance is always self-interested. Even in cases in which a state will lose wealth by pursuing a normatively prescribed course of action, it will most likely gain prestige or some other good (such as soft power) that compensates for the economic loss and makes that particular action appealing to the state. Frank Schimmelfennig (2001) addresses this phenomenon in his discussion of rhetorical commitment and entrapment. He defines “rhetorical action” as the “strategic use ofnorm-based arguments in pursuit of one’s self-interest” (p. 63), asserting that states risk entrapment by rhetorically committing themselves, even if they do not intend to actually follow through, for short term self interest.[3] Norm creation simply shapes the political environment so that the rational choice is to adhere to the norm—or, at the very least, to publicly state the intention of adhering to it.

Finnemore and Sikkink (1998) outline the basic steps of norm emergence, detailing the transformation of information to issue. They argue that norm establishment has three main phases: emergence, cascade, and internalization. Norms against unchecked greenhouse gas emissions are developing, but are not yet strong enough to demand comprehensive action. David Victor (2006) writes about this, arguing that although there is an existing international agreement, states have simply committed to do what they would have otherwise done, with European nations under intense pressure from their citizens to make progress on curbing emissions, developing countries signing the agreement that is, for them, nonbinding, and the US not signing at all. He points to the widely disparate interests of the various parties as the main factor blocking productive negotiations. Shaping these interests rather than expecting states to compromise them—something they have proven to be very unwilling to do—could be a more successful strategy to achieve more substantive agreements.

Though it is highly influential, the current dominant framework for norm emergence is hardly universally accepted. Charli Carpenter (2007)[4] criticizes Finnemore and Sikkink’s (1998) predictive framework, arguing that the characteristics they list far from guarantee emergence. While this is true, their framework has significant descriptive value and represents a highly useful structure for analyzing norm development, if not a stand-alone predictor of successful emergence. For this reason, I analyze past cases of rights-based norm development using their framework, but compare and contrast the empirical cases based on degrees of successful emergence, essentially using past cases of rights-based norm emergence as indicators for future campaigns.

In each of the cases I will examine—CSR, WHR, and the development of rights-based norms connected to climate change—a distinguishing characteristic is that the acceptance of each new norm requires a direct shift in the way we approach sovereignty. In international human rights discussions, sovereignty is often framed as the ability of a state to create its own system independent of the intervention and sometimes even scrutiny of the rest of the world. In the cases I will study, there exists a question about essentially the opposite idea. We know that a government bears responsibility for the well being of the citizens of the state it governs—but does it also bear a responsibility to the citizens of other states, whose well-being is affected by that government’s decisions? Do private actors share this responsibility as well?

In this respect, climate change represents a departure from previous traditional human rights issues such as the right to nondiscrimination, the right to vote, the freedom from arbitrary arrest, etc. Most previous movements have consisted of activists pressuring governments to change policies and behavior to protect the rights of their citizens. In the past, the international dimension has come from one state intervening in the affairs of other governments, working either to pressure them to change or, in some cases, to forcibly change policies to protect the rights of the citizens of the other state. However, with climate change, the international dimension comes from governments (generally of developed nations) changing their own actions to protect the rights of primarily citizens of other states.

Private actors who oppose substantive environmental legislation have successfully used these advocacy techniques to take the focus off of the human side of environmental issues and instead manufacture a public perception of a dichotomy between the environment and the economy. While this conflict is not entirely unfounded, its prominence in the environmental debate is the result of significant efforts to put it there. As Sell and Prakash (2004) state, “the business network grafted its agenda onto the established American norm of free trade and the government’s attendant preoccupation with competitiveness” (p. 158). They make this argument in reference to the business lobby’s impact on intellectual property rights, but the same applies to its effects on environmental legislation. The reaction of a spokesperson for the American Petroleum Institute to the American Security and Clean Energy Act sums up the industry’s argument very succinctly: “It was a major job-killer” (Mackinder, 2010). This has proven to be one of the most powerful arguments against taking steps to significantly reduce emissions.

The prevalence of this idea shows that the use of advocacy is not limited to liberal or normatively driven actors. In their discussion of networks working to influence policy, Keck and Sikkink (1999) focus on primarily transnational actors such as nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), research and advocacy networks, the media, and even parts of governments. Other scholars, such as Sell and Prakash (2004), have emphasized the utility of these advocacy strategies to less expected actors, such as private companies, corporations, and even similarly structured networks of non-state actors promoting less liberal ideas. The question is not simply of norms overcoming material interests, but of new norms overcoming previously dominant constructions.

Corporate Social Responsibility: An Introduction

While this rights structure represents a new set of challenges, it is not a completely foreign concept. The corporate social responsibility (CSR) movement has depended on a change in behavior by one actor to benefit others to whom it was not previously considered to be directly responsible. CSR is a norm that has emerged relatively recently, largely because of advocacy efforts. The apparent conflict between material and moral is not impossible to overcome. The CSR movement has shown that it is possible to leverage human rights norms—substantive as well as economic—against economic concerns, with varying degrees of success. Archie Carroll (1979) defines CSR as “economic, legal, ethical, and discretionary expectations that society has of organizations at a given point in time” (p. 500). I choose this definition of CSR because it emphasizes its malleable nature; rather than outline steps a business must take or standards it must meet to be socially responsible, it ties the concept of responsibility to the prevailing norms at a specific time. The idea that corporations have a social responsibility is itself a norm; it dictates that corporations have a responsibility to adhere to norms their shareholders have accepted.

The predominant idea behind CSR today is that corporations have a responsibility to both shareholders—those who have a vested financial interest in the company—and stakeholders—those with a vested interest in the company, but not necessarily a monetary one. The term “corporate social responsibility” has only been widely used since the 1960s. Since then, there has been a growing expectation that corporations should “be more proactive in (1) ceasing to cause societal problems and (2) starting to participate in solving societal problems” (“Corporate Social Responsibility,” 2010). Today, pressure comes from a wide spectrum of interests: primarily environmentalists and labor advocates, but also the health and human rights movements as well as many other activist groups. The CSR movement has been influential in affecting the behavior of corporations, but the changes have mainly been surface-level, with corporations allotting money to charitable foundations instead of significantly altering company policies. Some examples include Starbucks’ creation of the Shared Planet Youth Action Grants and simultaneous resistance to using exclusively fair trade products, Walmart’s frequent labor violations but also establishment of a Green Jobs Council and a total of $5.7 million dollar in grants to the U.S. Conference of Mayors and Veterans Green Jobs (“Walmart Foundation Supports U.S. Green Jobs,” n.d.), and Exxon Mobil’s $196 million in donations to nonprofit organizations, including environmental groups, in conjunction with its opposition to clean energy initiatives (“2009 Worldwide Giving,” 2009).[5] One of the most popular schemes for CSR is the “triple bottom line” (Elkington, 1998),[6] which includes “people, planet profit,” and argues that a corporation can, in fact, be beneficial for both people and the environment while still making a profit. Most agree that this has yet to be achieved; even advocates of corporate philanthropy are unimpressed by the current model (“Shaping the Future,” 2010).

Many have argued that because a corporation’s primary function is, quite simply, to make money and protect the interests of its shareholders, corporations have no incentives to and will never adopt policies that prioritize the interests of non-shareholders (e.g., employees, the communities in which their factories are located, the ecosystems affected by manufacturing) (“The Union of Concerned Executives,” 2005). While the fact that corporations exist solely to maximize profits is clearly true, normative concerns shape public perception, which in turn play a large role in the purchasing decisions many consumers make. Sell and Prakash (2004) emphasize the interdependence between—and, indeed, inseparability of—material and normative interests. They describe the parallels between advocacy strategies of business and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), arguing that there is no fundamental difference between “interests” and “ideas,” as each draws from the other.

In essence, CSR creates a new structure for human rights. Instead of governments being held responsible to their own people (domestic), or even governments coordinated to uphold the same rights in their respective nations (international), there is a new transnational dimension: corporations, even consumers, have a duty to protect the rights of those whom their own actions indirectly affect. This shift can be seen in the nature of international accords focused on issues of corporate responsibility. In 1976, the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development established Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises, which focuses on regulation of the financial policies of states, not corporations. These policies were designed to open up new markets and make them more secure. The power of corporations in shaping these agreements is also apparent. In 1974, the United Nations Center of Transnational Corporations was established; the Center initially focused on the regulation of corporations themselves, with its goal being the reduction of abuses perpetrated by these corporations. However, under pressure from corporate interests, in 1993 the center was integrated into the UN Conference on Trade and Development, an international body (focusing on states, not corporations) that “seeks to maximize trade” through “development-friendly integration of countries into the world economy” (“About UNCTAD,” n.d.).

Corporate Social Responsibility: The Fair Trade Movement

The movement pushing for fair trade practices is an example of CSR success, involving a structural change rather than simply an appeasing donation. Its success, especially for coffee, is due in large part to the clear identification of a harm and presentation of a solution to that harm. It has also focused on the broad spectrum of benefits of fair trade, gaining activists from the environmental, labor, and social justice movements. Interestingly, the fair trade movement has not sought visibility only by targeting and shaming major, well-known actors (for example, coffee retail chains such as Starbucks). After establishing a fairly robust demand for the admittedly higher priced specialty coffee, fair trade activists managed to create an alternative option for consumers to become independent of the perpetrators of those harms. The fair trade movement benefits from a credible certification initiative, started in 1988 when coffee prices worldwide plummeted. Although there had been advocacy before this point, dating back to church projects at the beginning of the century, the dramatic event and its devastating and highly publicized effect on coffee farmers catalyzed the establishment of a unified labeling initiative to spark consumer activism. The development of the Fairtrade Labeling Organizations International in 1997, an umbrella organization encompassing 24 separate fair trade organizations, “set international Fairtrade standards and [supported] Fairtrade producers” (“About Us,” n.d.).

The fair trade movement creates price floors for coffee and stresses significantly higher labor and environmental standards than regular coffee growers, a more direct supply chain, and a living wage for farmers. The coffee is grown in “58 developing countries across Africa, Asia and Latin America” (“About TransFair,” n.d.).[7] As of 2006, fair trade coffee made up only 3.3% of total coffee sales in the US, but even though the numbers are not staggering, perhaps the names are (Downie, 2007). Dunkin’ Donuts sells exclusively fair trade coffee, as do all McDonald’s branches in New England. Even Starbucks’ purchases of fair trade coffee, though they account for less than 10% of its total coffee purchases, have been significantly increasing over the past decade. In 2008 Starbucks announced it would double its purchasing of fair trade coffee to $64 million, making it the largest single buyer of fair trade coffee worldwide. Though fair trade coffee is still considered a specialty product and makes up a fairly small portion of the coffee market, it is clearly differentiated from charitable donations.[8] The Corporate Social Responsibility Newswire (2010) reports that between 2008 and 2009, while charitable donations in the US decreased by six and five percent, respectively, fair trade coffee sales continued to rise.

This sales success—and perception of fair trade products as an ethical choice rather than a philanthropic luxury—is especially important to the fair trade movement because it is almost entirely dependent on market mechanisms. States do not—cannot, as yet—implement policies favoring fair trade certified products; the success or failure of these products is determined only by the market, not by regulation. This dependence entails many significant challenges. Gordon Babst (2009) cites Gavin Fridell’s example of Planet Bean, a small company that sells exclusively fair trade coffee: “Planet Bean can make a profit only by reliance on the ethical choices of coffee consumers, a limited market and again, only within the limits imposed by the capitalist market economy” (p. 93).

Institutional Effects on CSR and Ethically Produced Goods

Though normative factors undoubtedly change perceptions, they may be slow to change policies. The existence and relative power of supranational institutions, to use Anne-Marie Slaughter’s (2004) term, limits the degree to which states can directly shape their own policies. Regulation-based approaches to institutionalizing corporate responsibility may be blocked by these institutions, as is the case with the World Trade Organization (WTO). With 153 members, WTO rules shape virtually every trade interaction between states. Of particular interest is Article 1 of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) 1947, which states:

With respect to customs duties and charges of any kind imposed on or in connection with importation or exportation or imposed on the international transfer of payments for imports or exports, and with respect to the method of levying such duties and charges, and with respect to all rules and formalities in connection with importation and exportation, and with respect to all matters referred to in paragraphs 2 and 4 of Article III, any advantage, favour, privilege or immunity granted by any contracting party to any product originating in or destined for any other country shall be accorded immediately and unconditionally to the like product originating in or destined for the territories of all other contracting parties. (General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, 1947, Article I)

As stated on the WTO website, this means that “when comparing two products, different processes or production methods (PPMs) used in the manufacture of such products do not per se render these products ‘unlike’” (“WTO Rules,” n.d., “A related question” section, para. 2). While there have been select cases in which production methods have differentiated a product enough to justify “discrimination” in policies governing their sale and distribution—such as the US ban on unsustainably harvested shrimp—these are, still, exceptions to the general rule and are addressed on a case-by-case basis. The exceptions, prohibiting anything that will harm human or animal life or endanger natural resources (General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, 1947, Article XX), are very general and thus are interpreted in specific instances, not automatically applied to general regulations.

As Sell and Prakash (2004) conclude, “businesses successfully grafted their agenda onto policy debates without a significant challenge from a competing NGO-inspired normative frame” (p. 169). They also stress that the goal of both movements, NGO and business, was to “[employ] coercive state power to their own ends.” With respect to ethically manufactured products, the lack of mechanisms supporting these socially responsible techniques shows that not only has traditional business already won this particular battle, but that state policies are already geared toward less regulation, which by default favors the currently dominant methods of production. Instead of a conflict over new legislation and a new system, as was the case with Sell and Prakash’s example of the debate over the production of lower-cost generic HIV/AIDS medication, the system governing ethical production is already in place. Neither harnessing the “coercive power of the state” nor working with the current provisions of state policy to change standards for ethical production will be possible without effecting a major normative shift (Sell & Prakash, 2004, p. 169).

The WTO’s restrictions on preferential treatment of certain products on the basis of production directly limit government policy (e.g., tariffs, import restrictions, etc.) but not consumer choice. If anything, the restrictions shift the burden of that choice from government to consumers. While it would theoretically be possible to apply these exceptions to various classes of products to favor a certain way of production, to do so would require not simply proof that the products made in different ways were, in fact, “unlike” products, but also that member states were willing to allow this distinction to be made. Essentially, the Most-Favoured-Nation policy, as it is currently applied and interpreted, leaves the choice between various production mechanisms up to market forces.

Recently, there have been efforts to implement global ethical standards, such as the Social Accountability 8000 Standard (SA 8000), which focuses on issues such as worker safety, fair pay, and the right to organize, but sidesteps such complex issues as ecological impact and corruption. While the existence of these codes represents a step in the right direction as well as an indication that the ethical labor norm is gaining strength, these codes are still private and voluntary. The government has no part in them and they are “self-governing” (Hiscox, Schwartz, & Toffel, 2008, p. 1). Still, the codes are not entirely ineffectual. A Harvard study assessing the impact of such voluntary codes of conduct reported that “the adoption of codes of conduct is associated with better working conditions in both industries, although the effects are not always large and are less pronounced for casual workers” (Hiscox, Schwartz, & Toffel, 2008, p. 8). In a comparison between different types of codes governing manufacturing ethics, the study found that broad, collaborative systems such as fair trade certification have a much more positive effect on workers’ material quality of life than do corporations’ own code of ethics. They cite Nike’s Code of Conduct (which Nike requires its suppliers follow), and report that its adoption made very little difference in workers’ quality of life. Though the existence of this code represents progress—Nike used to claim that it was unaware of and could not be held responsible for the working conditions and policies of its supplier factories—this is only the start. The most significant obstacle is not that the codes (such as the SA 8000) are nonbinding but that they are low-profile and many companies have not even signed them. There is still a choice on the market between goods produced in various ways with different standards—goods whose prices are unregulated—and, still, in the end the choice comes down to consumers, most of whom are unaware of what companies have committed themselves to do.

As such, efforts to create changes in production techniques have had to operate in a bottom-up manner. Since the new production techniques being pushed are generally more costly than their alternatives, they will be able to become the dominant methods through normative rather than economic means. [9] Though the change may be less comprehensive coming directly from consumers rather than institutionally, the shift will most likely occur more rapidly if it is not dependent upon government policies. As Deborah Duane (2005) argues in her article, “The Myth of CSR,” “There is room for markets to bring about some change through CSR, but the market alone is unlikely to bring with it the progressive outcomes its proponents would hope for” (p. 29).

Corporate Social Responsibility: The Anti sweatshop Movement

Clifford Bob (2002), in his analysis of NGO strategies for setting the advocacy agenda, describes how “focusing on an internationally known and notorious enemy (such as globalization or NAFTA) is a particularly effective way of garnering support,” emphasizing that recently, these enemies have come to include multinational corporations (p. 41). While Bob discusses this targeting of high profile actors as a publicity tactic that actually distorts smaller scale issues, I argue that it is not necessarily misrepresentative, merely selective. Take, for example, the case of Nike, a company that is now heralded as one of the worst abusers of its workers. Nike does, in fact, use sweatshops, and the issues profiled in anti-Nike campaigns—child and forced labor, poor wages, long hours—are actually the issues that need to be addressed. However, Nike is not the only perpetrator of wrong; it is simply the most visible and easily recognizable. Such targeted advocacy can have mixed results. In either case, the streamlining of the campaign to focus on a few giants affects not just how the public sees the problem, but perhaps more importantly, it alters the ways in which the public reacts.

The singling out of retail giants can create the perception that they are the worst perpetrators, and that avoiding them lessens the problem. Martin Hearson, Campaign Coordinator for the British anti sweatshop organization, Labour Behind the Label, is quick to point out the inadequacy of this way of thinking, highlighting the need for deeper, more structural changes: “The right question for people to ask is: ‘How can I persuade companies to do more to improve the conditions of workers on the ground?’ It’s not just about the particular pair of trousers that you buy” (Engler, 2006, para. 3). What Debora Spar (1998) of Harvard Business School refers to as the “spotlight phenomenon”[10] can have significant impacts on both the way the company is perceived and also on the company’s behavior (p. 2). However, with an issue that pervades the industry, not simply one rogue corporation, specific targeting does not even begin to fully address the problem.

The impact of the “spotlight phenomenon” on the company itself may be more promising than the effect on consumers. As reported in Business Week(September 20, 2004), Maria Eitel, vice-president for corporate responsibility at Nike said, “You haven’t heard about [Nike] recently because we’ve had our head down doing it the hard way. Now, we have a system to deal with the labor issue, not a crisis mentality” (“Nike’s new game plan for sweatshops,” 2004, para. 3). Though Nike has moved away from ignoring and discrediting criticisms to (reluctantly) addressing them, it is still settling claims on a case-by-case basis, not implementing substantive and systematic reforms. This advocacy strategy has recently become the focus of the movement. A recent anti-sweatshop legal victory against Nike resulted in Nike paying $1.5 million in owed severance pay to Honduran workers laid off when two plants closed.

The anti-sweatshops campaign, as it has operated in the past, is structured as a corrective movement. It is framed so that it focuses on corporate wrongs, seeks legal and fiscal retribution, but does not provide truly readily available alternatives to consumers. This is a direct contrast to the fair trade movement, which has created a labeling campaign that puts the focus not on the abysmal conditions workers endure in the production of regular non-fair trade certified coffee, but on the social and environmental benefits of fair trade. The choice may be simplified—even, some would argue, oversimplified—but it is more effective in the end. This trend is, possibly, beginning to change as the anti-sweatshop movement begins to more closely resemble the fair-trade movement. Instead of simply litigation-based advocacy practices (though they are indisputably important) pressuring major corporations to raise labor standards, there has recently been a push to independently create more ethically manufactured products. American Apparel, a large clothing company that prides itself on its high labor standards, saw dramatic growth after it began advertising itself as a sweat-free company with a profitable business model. Founder Dov Charney stated in an interview that “[the other companies] sell sweatshop-free [products] based on charity, and it’s not sustainable… . American Apparel is more about efficiency. It’s about the fact that the way we manufacture T-shirts is better” (Dodero, 2005, para. 11). However, for a company whose success depends on its anti sweatshop label, the rights it affords its workers are surprisingly incomplete. Reports state that American Apparel is “aggressively anti-union” (Vogel, 2006, p. xi), and the union has filed unfair labor practices complaints against the company.

Despite this, the sweatshop-free production model is improving. Alta Gracia, a new clothing line that supplies sweatshop-free apparel to university stores, has been made possible largely through the highly vocal demand of university students for sweat-free clothing (“Yet Another USAS Victory,” n.d.). All Alta Gracia clothing is manufactured in a factory in the Dominican Republic that pays its workers 350% of average wages in the region. Alta Gracia encourages workers unionizing and perhaps most importantly, it is a new branch of the clothing giant Knight Apparel. The emergence of this new socially responsible brand, under the umbrella of an existing large corporation with no past history of anti sweatshop advocacy, nor a specialized consumer base that focuses on ethical production, could signal the emergence of the anti-sweatshop movement as a larger change. Similar to Starbucks beginning to source more fair trade coffee, this could signal more mainstream adoption of what was previously a highly specific, specialized movement.

The emergence of such brands and movements show that there is sufficient will on the part of consumers to make ethical purchasing choices. Up to this point, there were few available options, but the norm against sweatshop labor seems to be slowly gaining strength—the creation of a mainstream sweatshop-free clothing line is not simply a result of strengthened norms, but also represents an option that could facilitate a norm cascade by creating viable alternatives to the current system and a new channel for consumers to show their support for the norm. This dual role is an important reminder that norm emergence and acceptance are, in many ways, co-dependent.

The Fair Trade and Anti sweatshops Movements: A Comparison

The difference between the two CSR movements is easiest to conceptualize in the availability of alternatives. The anti sweatshop labor campaign has faced strong opposition from those who argue that sweatshops are better than the industries and jobs (or lack thereof) that would replace them were they eliminated. Critics argue that though they do not represent ideal or even fair working conditions, they are better than the alternatives—unemployment, hunger, and prostitution (Powell, 2008). In contrast, fair trade production techniques are themselves the alternative to poor working conditions and environmental regulations. The strongest, most commonly made argument against fair trade is that it is not actually as effective as supporters claim. The criticism targets the execution of fair trade policies, not the aspirations. Although the fair trade movement looks more promising (and has been more effective), the anti-sweatshops movement may be catching up: there has been some progress in addressing fears about the sweatshop problem. American Apparel, proudly declaring its products “Made in USA,” does not address these fears, but Alta Gracia, as it is based in the Dominican Republic, does. Whether or not this was intended to be a direct response to arguments in favor of sweatshops, it could represent the beginning of a stronger alternative to current attempts to revolutionize the clothing industry.

While people affected by transnational corporations were always said to have rights in the human rights discourse—that, after all, is the very basis of the “universality” so important to the movement—they were never successfully and explicitly linked to commercial entities in other states. This turns the rights discourse into one that is both inter- and transnational. In effect, a new class of duty bearers—one of non state actors—for human rights has been created.

Women’s Human Rights

Just as new roles can be created for those who are responsible for upholding rights, so too can new classes of rights-bearers be created. Similar to the strategy of “adjacency claims” (Finnemore & Sikkink, 1998, p. 908) issue “grafting,” which Price (1998) defines as “the combination of active, manipulative persuasion and the contingency of genealogical heritage in norm germination” (p. 612), is an extremely important strategy in the creation of new norms, building on progress that has already been made on other issues rather than trying to create a new movement from scratch. This strategy goes well with “venue shopping,” which “relies less on mass mobilization and more on the dual strategy of the presentation of image and the search for a more receptive political venue” (Baumgartner & Jones, 1991, p. 1050). The women’s human rights (WHR) movement has very effectively used these strategies to situate the issue of domestic violence and violence against women within the human rights framework, gaining a new audience already established as credible supporters of a legitimate movement.

Even before the emergence of WHR as an explicitly human rights-based norm, the language of the international treaties governing WHR reflects this strategic use of language. The name of the international treaty on women’s rights, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), is grounded in the most basic premise of human rights—the right to nondiscrimination. Despite this parallelism, there is no explicit mention of women’s rights in the UDHR, the most fundamental human rights treatise in international law. However, the UDHR was adopted by the United Nations General Assembly in 1948. With the document less than 50 years old when the WHR movement began to gain momentum, it was still being interpreted and the women’s rights movement was optimistic about the flexibility of the concept of “human rights.”

In 1993, the United Nations World Conference on Human Rights was held in Vienna, the first time such a conference had been held in 25 years. The conference provided the perfect forum for advocates of WHR to very publicly push for the linkage of women’s rights and human rights and firmly establish themselves as rightful participants in such human rights meetings. Activists created a petition (with statements to that effect), which was ultimately signed by 500,000 people in countries all over the world. Because the conference program had no component of WHR, women put pressure on leaders to include discussions of WHR not only at the conference in Vienna but also at all preparatory meetings. It was at this time that the movement’s slogan, “Women’s rights are human rights,” was developed and began to be used in full force. As Charlotte Bunch and Samantha Frost (2000) write,

The idea of women’s human rights has had immense impact as a tool for political activism. The concept of women’s human rights has opened the way for women around the world to ask hard questions about the official inattention and general indifference to the widespread discrimination and violence that women experience everyday. (para. 13)

This consistent and broad appeal was ultimately successful: the text of the Vienna Declaration and Program of Action (the product of the conference) states, “The human rights of women and of the girl-child are an inalienable, integral and indivisible part of universal human rights” (Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action, 1993).

Women’s newfound identities as human rights activists also served as a uniting principle, facilitating the creation and strengthening of transnational networks. Amrita Basu, Women and Gender Studies professor at Amherst University, argues that the new frame for the women’s rights movement changed not only the way it was perceived by others, but also the ways in which activists themselves viewed their cause.  She discusses the divide that existed in various feminist movements, describing the opposition between “1970s feminism” of the global North, a movement that was more educated, Westernized, and abstract, and that of the South, which emphasized more substantive rights such as gender equality, poverty alleviation, access to potable water, etc. The framing of women’s rights as human rights alleviated this tension, “succeeding in making connections between the local and the global level” (Basu, n.d., para. 5).

Suddenly, female activists found themselves with a wider support base. Instead of turning only to feminists, as before—and to different camps of feminists, depending on the nature of the specific issue—they could now harness the broader power of the women’s subsection of the human rights movement. Rather than basing their claims solely in CEDAW, they grounded them in the UDHR. Even in states that have not accepted the norm, the presence of an international agreement on the issue makes possible the pressure and support of the international community required by the “boomerang effect”[11] Keck and Sikkink (1999) describe.

Though the covenants are widely cited and even accepted in the literature, some key states have not ratified them, and even those who have ratified the treaties have not necessarily adhered to the provisions set out in them.[12] Finnemore and Sikkink (1998), in their discussion of international norm emergence, are careful to emphasize that they “separate norm existence or strength from actual behavioral change in [their] operationalization” (p. 892). The ratification of international agreements is a perfect example of a testament to the power of a norm, but one that does not necessarily result in a true change in behavior. Similar to Johnston’s (2001) distinctions between persuasion and socialization, norm adoption can be seen as an analog to socialization, while true persuasion lies in internalization. What is missing from this framework, however, is compliance. While norm adoption by no means guarantees adherence, norm internalization is not needed for compliance. An important catalyzing mechanism to turn norm adoption (rhetorical substantiation of the norm) into norm adherence (actual policy changes) is rhetorical entrapment, which Schimmelfennig (2001) describes as a result of “rhetorical commitment,” and a necessary prerequisite for effective shaming campaigns (p. 66).

Women’s Human Rights: A Case Study

This new conceptualization of WHR can lead not only to legislative successes but also to a changing awareness of the nature of rights and psychological and cultural shifts that can arise from it; progress in WHR is not limited to the success of international agreements. In 1991, Molly Melching took a more cultural, grassroots approach when she founded Tostan, a Senegal-based organization whose mission is to “empower African communities to bring about sustainable development and positive social transformation based on respect for human rights” (“Abandoning Female Genital Cutting,” n.d.). The organization is most well-known for leading a grassroots movement to end female genital mutilation/circumcision (FGM/C), an issue it undertook as a community-based human rights—not feminist—organization. Tostan represents a departure from the short-term public health campaigns often employed by NGOs to raise awareness and try to inspire societal change. The organization and, subsequently, program, acknowledges that without long-term community engagement and a movement that comes from the community members themselves, the change will not last. Melching worked closely with community members, seeking their input on which issues needed to be addressed and how to present information (always in the local language) in the form of “songs, dances, plays, and poetry inspired from traditional culture to reinforce new knowledge,” (“Abandoning Female Genital Cutting,” n.d.).

Another important characteristic of the program is that Melching’s approach treats the members of the communities in Senegal as rational actors. The premise was that FGM/C occurred not because the people “didn’t know any better” but because in the existing social structure, FGM/C was tied to marriage, probably the most important factor in a girl’s long-term security. Because marriages were traditionally between two people from different villages, inspiring change in just one village was not feasible; without the participation of neighboring villages with whom community members often intermarried, abstaining from such a pivotal practice was not a rational option. Today, over 85% of the 5,000 villages in Senegal estimated to have practiced FGM/C have publicly put an end to the practice (“Abandoning Female Genital Cutting,” n.d.). The key point is that Tostan is not a women’s rights or feminist organization. The FGM/C campaign is simply one component of a 30-month Community Empowerment Program (CEP) that encompasses issues such as education, improving economic opportunities, microfinance, and other development initiatives. Ending FGM/C is not a condition for participation in the CEP.

While the WHR movement does not by any means completely deter the cultural relativistic criticisms of (the Western conception of) women’s rights, the situation of women’s rights in the human rights frame has somewhat tempered the backlash against what is often referred to as Western cultural imperialism. Human Rights Watch states on their website that “cultural relativism, which argues that there are no universal human rights and that rights are culture-specific and culturally determined, is still a formidable and corrosive challenge to women’s rights to equality and dignity in all facets of their lives” (“Women’s Rights Division,” n.d.). However, it is difficult to fully dismiss cultural relativist arguments without assuming imperialistic overtones, an impossible balance that has hindered the success of the norm of “universal” human rights.

Conclusion: Framing Climate Change as a Human Rights Issue

Just as framing domestic violence as an issue of women’s human rights (WHR) brought what was previously a private issue, insulated from government intervention, into the public sphere, so too can framing the climate change debate as an issue of human rights reposition it as an issue not only open to regulation but one that requires it. Additionally, the linkage of women’s rights to human rights strengthened the claims for women’s rights and widened the movement’s support base, effectively bringing the issues to center stage and creating new ways to promote the agenda.

While both the CSR and WHR movements had to prove that these issues were, in fact, international and transnational issues, the environmental movement has already firmly established that. If anything, it is that international component, the feeling that nations are tied together whether they like it or not (in this case, generally not), that has made definitive action so halting. The CSR and WHR movements have faced their own unique challenges in establishing the global nature of the norms and policies they promote. CSR emerged with the rise of multinational corporations; at the very beginning of the globalization trend,[13] the basis for the movement was new and foreign. The WHR movement faces issues of cultural relativism that are difficult to address in any kind of satisfying manner. For climate change, however, establishing the legitimacy of the human rights frame and its universal applicability will be much simpler. The most basic of rights are being threatened—the right to life, food, clean water, and shelter. While the causal link may be less direct than would be ideal, the harms are simple and undoubtedly universal. Although the opponents of stricter environmental regulation have been successful in shifting the focus to the negative economic effects of such regulation—effects they insist are inevitable—there is an empirical basis for the potential of rights-based claims to take priority over economic arguments.

While it benefits from the simplicity of harms and obvious international nature, establishing and gaining acceptance of the norm of climate change as a human rights issue is still uniquely challenging. It introduces many of the same controversial issues and obstacles present in both the CSR and WHR movements. In addition to requiring a cultural shift—a change in ideas of those to whom a given government bears responsibility—it also embodies the added hurdle of overcoming short-term material concerns for the sake of longer term stability and security. The imperialistic overtones that the WHR movement has managed to lessen, but not entirely avoid, resurface in discussions of climate change, which represents yet another instance in which the global North is pitted against the global South, this time in a less cultural, more economic, clash. The current developed/developing nation divide is often portrayed as a form of neocolonialism, with the wealthy North again profiting from the destruction and razing of the natural capital of the global South. This portrayal, strangely, is actually less difficult to work with than critical representations of the WHR movement, in which Western involvement is seen as cultural and ideological imperialism. With climate change, the North/South divide, while it is currently blamed for the failure of international negotiations, could potentially serve as the crux of a human rights argument. The CSR movement is dependent upon a norm encompassing the responsibility of the North to stop its blatant exploitation of the global South. It has managed to overcome connotations of charity and is now couched in the rhetoric of “responsibility.” While this description is an oversimplification of the issue, it has proven to be a fairly effective frame.

Whereas CSR creates a new class of duty bearers (for upholding rights), the WHR movement created a new class of rights themselves. The issue of climate change is at the theoretical intersection of both of these movements; given the fairly clear but collective “causal chain” but as-yet-undefined accountability mechanisms, leaders of the movement must clearly establish the identities of both the rights-bearers and duty-bearers. The global nature of the negative externalities associated with specific point sources (say, coal factories in a specific nation or millions of cars in another) means that while regulation is possible, it is not always regarded as pressing because, in effect, emitters reap the short-term benefits and export the harms of unsustainable development and production. The solution, as with CSR, lies not in corrective or reactive approaches but in the creation of alternatives to an unjust system. Situating climate change in the human rights framework will provide it with the same jump in political salience seen in the WHR movement. The obstacles both the CSR and the WHR movements face—the establishment of transnational accountability as a norm, the overcoming and/or exploitation of the global North/South divide, the interplay between the effect of norms on the general public and on broader government policy, tying personal actions to faraway consequences—are all applicable to climate change. Viewing stopping climate change as a human rights imperative will require a significant normative shift, but one that can build upon past movements, like CSR and WHR. The change is daunting, but it is clear that, especially with strategies updated to reflect the successes and failures of past movements, it is entirely possible.

References

[1] The UN defines a refugee as an individual who, “owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country…” (Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, 1951, Article 1).

[2] Although its counterpart in the House of Representatives, the Waxman-Markey Bill, narrowly passed.

[3] I will return to this discussion of rhetorical self-entrapment toward the end of this paper.

[4] In her 2007 article, “Setting the Advocacy Agenda: Theorizing Issue Emergence and Nonemergence in Transnational Advocacy Networks,” Carpenter examines the case of children born of wartime rape.

[5] Exxon donated $196 million in 2009 alone. (“2009 Worldwide Giving Report,” 2009)

[6] John Elkington originally coined this phrase in his book, Cannibals with Forks: Triple Bottom Line of 21st Century Business.

[7] TransFair USA. <http://www.transfairusa.org/content/about/overview.php>

[8] Or at least it is perceived to be, which from a normative standpoint, is actually more important.

[9] This is based on traditional pricing structures. Some hold that this model does not actually reflect the true costs of various products (the argument being that alternative production techniques like fair trade or organic products actually have lower “real costs.” See Buchanan and Faith (1981), “Entrepreneurship and the Internalization of Externalities,” for further reading.

[10] Essentially the increased scrutiny and criticism, generally from NGOs, that follow major brand-name corporations, especially US corporations operating abroad.

[11] In their 1999 article, Keck and Sikkink describe the boomerang effect, or the process by which an actor within a state seeks the support of the international community to pressure the state to make changes. These changes ultimately affect the domestic activist’s campaign, hence the name “boomerang.”

[12] Beth Simmons, in her presentation at Columbia University on 20 October 2010, argued that it is often more difficult for nations with federalist systems to ratify international conventions; for example, Senate ratification in the US makes the international law national, requiring a great deal of coordination between decentralized sectors of government. She emphasized the procedural constraints of ratification, pointing out that the US follows many of the conventions it has not actually ratified (such as CEDAW and the Convention on the Rights of the Child).

[13] And therefore at the forefront of the antiglobalization movement as well.

Comments are closed.