I've been reading about human rights lately, in large part because my senior thesis has found itself very much a commentary on forgiveness, sin and mourning. As communities of all shapes and sizes, we are confronted with joys and tragedies (e.g. Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords), and political leaders are sought to stand as mediators and interpreters of the pain and uncertainty that is "the next step forward." President Obama's address regarding the Tuscon shootings was lauded not for its political fervor nor any intense call for partisanship to reign supreme--as if the Democrats respond to pain any better than the Republicans, or vice versa--but for its optimism and belief that the American spirit is one of resilience. In a remarkably humble return to a large part of his campaign rhetoric, Obama moved for peace and shared story. The strength of the American Constitution and constitution seems to be this desire for shared story, and then the U.S.'s human rights ethic follows the same lines: how do we write an ethic that does justice to the community? This goes beyond "majority rules," and instead focuses with surprise sophistication a philosophy of memoir and the cultivation of a graceful aesthetic: what, and how, will we remember and be remembered?
So when in this article we read that the human rights issue in China has been sorely overlooked--even blatantly ignored--I am convinced that recent American events should make us think differently. What stories will we be willing to take the blame for, and how will we allow ourselves, as powerful Americans on an international stage, to have our lines recorded in playbooks?
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