in turn, require a collective effort.
Cambridge University political scientist Bryan Turner argues that the notion of “human frailty” and “vulnerability” and the accompanying feeling of sympathy are the only universally shared emotions that have the power to unite humanity and provide a foundation for acceptance of universal human rights. 3 Turner notes that rights have traditionally been tied to Lockean notions of property. These kinds of rights, by their very nature, cannot be regarded as universal, because they establish, from the get-go, the idea of “mine vs. thine.” Individual property rights and, by extension, the territorial rights of nation-states are meant to be exclusionary. While one might make the case that everyone has the right to acquire property, it’s not the kind of right that brings all of humanity together in some deep, fundamental way. 4 On the contrary, the struggle between the possessed and the dispossessed over property rights has probably done more to divide our species than any other socially constructed phenomenon. Even the more vague right espoused by Thomas Jefferson in our Declaration of Independence, the right to pursue happiness, is “notable for its cultural diversity,” observes Harvard sociologist Barrington Moore. “Only misery,” notes Moore, “is characterized by its unity.” 5
Borrowing from the earlier works of Arnold Gehlen and Helmut Plessner, Turner makes the point that “human beings are ontologically frail, and . . . that social arrangements, or social institutions, are precarious.” 6 People are subject to natural disasters, hunger and disease, the wrath of their fellow human beings, and natural decay and death. Now these frailties are compounded by the unpredictability brought about by the increased density of human exchange and the introduction of powerful new technologies whose negative impacts can be felt quickly and on a global scale.
Turner’s views about the “human condition” differ substantially from those of Thomas Hobbes, who argued that people were inherently aggressive and acquisitive, rather than frail and dependent. Hobbes believed that people entered into a social contract to ensure a certain kind of security—their right to acquire property without fear of expropriation by others. Turner, however, believes that what unites people is not acquisitiveness—How could greed be a uniting force?—but participation in a “community of suffering.” His thoughts might be regarded as a secularization of the Christ story. 7
People require political institutions, according to Turner, because they are open and vulnerable, not because they are cunning and aggressive. 8 By reconfiguring the universality of the human condition in this way, Turner opens up the possibility of advancing a new vision for the human race to embrace. In the medieval world of Christendom, humanity’s fallen nature was considered its universal condition, and eternal salvation was offered up as the dream to unite humanity. In the modern era, humanity’s utilitarian and acquisitive nature was thought of as its universal condition, and material progress was embraced as a unifying dream. In the global era, frailty and vulnerability become humanity’s universal condition, and global consciousness becomes the sought-after dream. Likewise, proprietary obligations structured the faith-centered salvationist worldview of Christendom, property rights structured the utilitarian era of material progress, and in the new world coming, human rights become the indivisible norm to advance global consciousness and foster a sustainable stewardship of the Earth.
Frailty and vulnerability are arguably a universal condition. But that doesn’t mean that everyone is going to automatically embrace universal human rights. For that to happen, human beings would need to internalize a sense of empathy with the same passionate commitment that earlier generations felt when they substituted reason for
Cambridge University political scientist Bryan Turner argues that the notion of “human frailty” and “vulnerability” and the accompanying feeling of sympathy are the only universally shared emotions that have the power to unite humanity and provide a foundation for acceptance of universal human rights. 3 Turner notes that rights have traditionally been tied to Lockean notions of property. These kinds of rights, by their very nature, cannot be regarded as universal, because they establish, from the get-go, the idea of “mine vs. thine.” Individual property rights and, by extension, the territorial rights of nation-states are meant to be exclusionary. While one might make the case that everyone has the right to acquire property, it’s not the kind of right that brings all of humanity together in some deep, fundamental way. 4 On the contrary, the struggle between the possessed and the dispossessed over property rights has probably done more to divide our species than any other socially constructed phenomenon. Even the more vague right espoused by Thomas Jefferson in our Declaration of Independence, the right to pursue happiness, is “notable for its cultural diversity,” observes Harvard sociologist Barrington Moore. “Only misery,” notes Moore, “is characterized by its unity.” 5
Borrowing from the earlier works of Arnold Gehlen and Helmut Plessner, Turner makes the point that “human beings are ontologically frail, and . . . that social arrangements, or social institutions, are precarious.” 6 People are subject to natural disasters, hunger and disease, the wrath of their fellow human beings, and natural decay and death. Now these frailties are compounded by the unpredictability brought about by the increased density of human exchange and the introduction of powerful new technologies whose negative impacts can be felt quickly and on a global scale.
Turner’s views about the “human condition” differ substantially from those of Thomas Hobbes, who argued that people were inherently aggressive and acquisitive, rather than frail and dependent. Hobbes believed that people entered into a social contract to ensure a certain kind of security—their right to acquire property without fear of expropriation by others. Turner, however, believes that what unites people is not acquisitiveness—How could greed be a uniting force?—but participation in a “community of suffering.” His thoughts might be regarded as a secularization of the Christ story. 7
People require political institutions, according to Turner, because they are open and vulnerable, not because they are cunning and aggressive. 8 By reconfiguring the universality of the human condition in this way, Turner opens up the possibility of advancing a new vision for the human race to embrace. In the medieval world of Christendom, humanity’s fallen nature was considered its universal condition, and eternal salvation was offered up as the dream to unite humanity. In the modern era, humanity’s utilitarian and acquisitive nature was thought of as its universal condition, and material progress was embraced as a unifying dream. In the global era, frailty and vulnerability become humanity’s universal condition, and global consciousness becomes the sought-after dream. Likewise, proprietary obligations structured the faith-centered salvationist worldview of Christendom, property rights structured the utilitarian era of material progress, and in the new world coming, human rights become the indivisible norm to advance global consciousness and foster a sustainable stewardship of the Earth.
Frailty and vulnerability are arguably a universal condition. But that doesn’t mean that everyone is going to automatically embrace universal human rights. For that to happen, human beings would need to internalize a sense of empathy with the same passionate commitment that earlier generations felt when they substituted reason for
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