As
happens so often at international meetings, the
focus of media attention being paid to the upcoming
United Nations conference on racism and other forms
of discrimination (scheduled to begin August 31
in Durban, South Africa) is on which nations will
or will not attend. The US government, voicing
concern about sections of the conference's draft
document dealing with Zionism as racism and with
calls for reparations for victims of colonialism
and slavery, has threatened to boycott the meeting--as
the two previous UN conferences on racism were
boycotted by earlier US administrations.
It
can be argued that the absence of the US from the conference
would cast a deep shadow over it. The US, after all,
is the world's only superpower, military or economic;
it also has a long history of racial problems even
though it has sometimes been a leader in the global
struggle for freedom of religion. But whether the US
is in attendance or not, the conference faces an impossible,
uphill battle because of the very way that racism (and
other forms of discrimination) are construed in the
context of a UN conference.
To begin with, racism
is not really a controversial
subject: Nobody ever
defends it or argues
that there should be
more of it. And yet its
victims can be found,
along with the victims
of ethnic, religious,
social, sexual and other
forms of discrimination,
within the boundaries
of every UN member state.
Frequently these forms
of discrimination are
codified and enshrined,
as apartheid once was
in South Africa, in the
laws and official policies
of governments. More
often, though, they exist
only in more subtle forms,
based on people's attitudes
and prejudices. In every
case, though, the victims
of such discrimination
are among the poorest
and most disadvantaged
people within any society.
Think
about this: Wherever
railroad tracks run through
a town there is a perceived "right
side" and "wrong
side" of those tracks.
And if there are no railroad
tracks to serve as a
dividing line between
the "in-group" and "out-group," that
function can be served
just as well by a highway,
a river or a political
boundary. Seen this way,
discrimination is nothing
more than the reverse
side of group loyalty,
the perfectly understandable
desire of people to be
among "their own
kind."
But
the problem of discrimination
is more insidious than
that. Among its most
widespread forms is that
based on language. Wherever
one travels, the poorest
people one meets speak
a "non-standard" dialect
or even a language completely
different from that spoken
by the dominant group.
These people are effectively
barred from full participation
in the local economy.
They are unable to take
advantage of the local
schools or other educational
opportunities. And they
are stigmatized as "outsiders" every
time they open their
mouths. But most of them
adamantly refuse to do
anything to remedy the
situation. They argue
that preserving their
own language, the root
of their distinctive
culture, is central to
their survival as a people.
Indeed, they may see
any attempt to teach
them another language
as a violation of their
human rights.
And
then there is the even
more insidious kind
of discrimination based
on orientation toward
modernism. There is much
talk, at least in certain
circles, about the importance
of "bridging the
digital divide" (between
people who have or don't
have access to computers
and the Internet). But
there are many millions
of people in the world--again,
including some of the
poorest--who are, for
all practical purposes,
still living in the Stone
Age. Because they rely
for their livelihood
on pre-industrial technologies
such as hunting/gathering
or subsistence farming,
it is impossible for
them to become integrated,
economically or otherwise,
into the larger society
around them. On the other
hand, such integration,
whatever its possible
benefits, may be the
last thing they want.
They may prefer their
isolation since it helps
them resist modern-day
innovations that they
also see as threatening
their cultural "purity," their
identity and survival
as a group. Are these
people victims of discrimination?
They most certainly are--and
they pay a terrible price
as a result. But will
a UN conference be able
to help them? Not very
likely. Not, at least,
without infringing on
their own preferences
and, very possibly, their
human rights as well.
I
recall the last UN
conference on human
rights,
held in Vienna in 1993.
The area set aside for
displays by nongovernmental
organizations (NGOs)
was filled with bloody-looking
posters decrying the
atrocities committed
by various human-rights
violators. Every group,
it seemed, had some sort
of "bloody shirt" to
wave as a memento of
a human wrong it had
suffered at the hands
of one UN member state
or another.
There is always, it
seems, a copious supply
of such wrongs--and certainly
no shortage of victims
of discrimination. But
please don't count on
any UN conference to
provide them with a remedy.
|