Human rights are never ensured. The freedoms we hold dear were won—piece by piece—after the catastrophes of the 20th century, when governments accepted, however imperfectly, that state power should be constrained by law, institutions, and a shared baseline of human dignity.
Today, that architecture is buckling. Under relentless pressure from President Donald Trump’s administration, and long undermined by China and Russia, the rules-based order that helped make human rights enforceable is fraying fast.
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Can human rights survive without the rules that established them? They can, but not by clinging to a collapsing status quo. They will survive only if we build something new: a durable human rights alliance that defends core norms (even when a superpower defects), and makes repression costly.
To be sure, the deterioration in human rights protections predates Trump’s return to office. Over the past two decades, democracy has been in retreat worldwide, and with it the checks—such as independent courts, free media, and accountable institutions—that make abuses harder to carry out and harder to hide. When democratic guardrails erode, the full range of rights can erode with them. And though democracies are not a panacea for human rights, they are the best defense we have.
In just one year, the Trump Administration has moved aggressively to weaken core democratic safeguards: attacking judicial independence, defying court orders, politicizing institutions meant to be impartial, and using government power to intimidate critics across society, including journalists, universities, law firms, and even late night talkshow hosts. These actions not only chill speech, they also signal that accountability is negotiable and that power can be abused without consequence.
The Trump Administration’s approach to immigration has been especially revealing. A president may tighten borders and pursue strict immigration policies, but no electoral mandate entitles a government to deny anyone the right to seek asylum or to subject migrants to degrading detention conditions.
Beyond U.S. borders, the Trump Administration has tested international law’s limits on lethal force, while treating international obligations with indifference or contempt. And when other governments stay silent, fearing tariffs, retaliation, or abandonment on security, they become accomplices to a world where power, not principle, decides who is protected. Trump’s foreign policy has stripped away the pretense that U.S. global leadership is tethered, even rhetorically, to human rights. In short order, the administration has politicized human rights reporting, withdrawn from key multilateral bodies, and eviscerated aid programs that saved lives. It has simultaneously cozied up to autocrats while disparaging democratic allies, and undermined the International Criminal Court.
China and Russia, which have spent years weakening the human rights ecosystem through disinformation, influence operations, and coordinated obstruction at the UN, are seizing on Washington’s retreat. When the United States signals contempt for the rules and institutions that constrain abuse, it strengthens the hand of every leader who believes rights are for the weak.
The consequences are already visible, particularly in the context of international justice. For instance, despite being wanted by the ICC, Russian President Vladimir Putin has not only continued to travel but also met President Trump in Alaska. ICC warrants still have some bite—Putin avoided the BRICS summits in South Africa and Brazil—but the larger message is chilling: if you are powerful enough, you can outlast accountability.
The question, then, is not who will replace the United States, but whether the governments still committed to the human rights framework can act in alliance. While the U.S. was never a consistent guardian of the rules-based order, enforcing rights selectively and often without the constraints urged on others, when it brought its weight to bear, America was unmatched.
The rapid shift in Washington’s posture, dismantling of the post-World War II order it helped build, has exposed a hard truth: the system cannot depend on any single superpower. The answer to our challenges isn’t nostalgia for yesterday’s system; it is to construct a human rights alliance of rights-respecting democracies that are capable of defending core norms when powerful states defect. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney has made a related argument, urging “middle powers” to build a new order rooted in shared values.
This alliance could impose sanctions and visa bans on abusive officials; tighten money-laundering rules so kleptocrats can’t park wealth in safe havens; support independent media and civil society groups under threat; and protect international institutions when powerful states try to bully them into silence. It should also use incentives, not only penalties, by offering deeper trade and security cooperation to governments that meet baseline commitments on elections, courts, and minority rights.
None of this will work, however, without civic courage inside countries where democracy is fraying. Institutions do not defend themselves. Legislatures and courts need to check executive power. Universities and law firms should refuse coercive deals that trade independence for short-term safety. Businesses should stop treating authoritarian demands as mere “regulatory risk.” And the public needs to reject the seductive lie at the heart of authoritarian politics: that the erosion of other people’s rights will keep their own secure.
A system that safeguards human rights doesn’t endure by accident; it endures because governments and civil society build structures strong enough to outlast any leader.
Human rights can survive the Trump Era.
But only if we build a world order that is not hostage to Trump or his successors.
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