Hannah Arendt and Human Rights more

Hannah Arendt on Human Rights by Roger Berkowitz Handbook of Human Rights ed. by Thomas Cushman http://www.amazon.com/Handbook-Rights-Routledge-InternationalHandbooks/dp/041548023X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1313157740&sr=1-1 Hannah Arendt approaches human rights as someone who lived through their failure in the first half of the 20th century. A German Jew, Arendt understood antisemitism, experienced the denationalization of Jews in Germany, and witnessed how the world and even the diaspora Jewish community largely ignored the plight of European Jewry. Arendt also saw how other minority peoples in Euorpe—Germans in Russia, Slovaks in Czechloslavakia, muslims in Yugoslavia, Gypsies, and many others—were systematically denaturalized, persecuted, and killed—all, as she emphasized, within the strictures of national and international law. For Arendt, the failure of human rights is a fundamental fact of modern times. Not only did human rights fail to stop the atrocities of the 20th century; more provocatively, Arendt suggests that the rise and failure of the human rights discourse is itself part of the reason for the holocaust, concentration camps, and refugee camps that mark our era. These disasters, she writes, are made possible, at least in part, “because the Rights of Man, which had never been philosophically established but merely formulated, which had never been politically secured but merely proclaimed, have, in their traditional form, lost all validity.” (Origins of Totalitarianism, 447) It is not that human rights in some simple way cause the very abuses they are meant to protect against. Rather, Arendt argues that the failure and vapidity of human rights claims both reflects and deepens the incontrovertible fact that human rights are mere phantoms. To advocate for human rights in the face of their obvious invalidity is, she insists, to risk bringing attention to their powerlessness and therefore unintentionally to furthertheir abuse. Even as she fearlessly explores the paradoxes, weaknesses, and dangers of human rights, Arendt works to reformulate human rights on a more stable and meaningful foundation. In The Origins of Totalitarianism, Arendt is clear that the “subterranean stream of Western history has finally come to the surface and usurped the dignity of our tradition.” She is equally determined, however, to discover “a new political principle,” what she calls “a new law on earth,” that will replace Kantian dignity as the ground of human rights. (Origins of Totalitarianism, ix) A skeptic regarding of the Rights of Man, Arendt is also deeply committed to elaborating and defending a meaningful and effective idea of human rights. Arendt’s charge that the dignified foundations of the Rights of Man have been usurped and her effort to offer a new foundation for human rights are developed throughout her works, but most directly in her first published work, The Origins of Totalitarianism. Arendt furthers her reformulation of human rights in The Human Condition, Eichmann in Jerusalem, and Men in Dark Times, as well as in numerous essays. Taken together, Arendt’s writings form the most coherent and critical appraisal of human rights since Immanuel Kant’s philosophical grounding of human dignity. As Seyla Benhabid has argued, “After Kant, it was Hannah Arendt who turned to the ambiguous legacy of cosmopolitan law, and who dissected the paradoxes at the heart of the territorially based sovereign state system.” (Benhabib, The Rights of Others, 49) In the South Atlantic Quarterly’s special issue on “And Justice for All? The Claims of Human Rights,” (2004), Arendt’s approach to human rights dominates throughout; three of the fourteen essays (by Jacques Rancière, Werner Hamacher, and Etienne Balibar) focus specifically on Arendt’s critical and reconstructive accounts. And for Peg Birmingham, in her book Hannah Arendt and Human Rights, Arendt’s overriding life’s work is the “working out of a theoretical foundation for a reformulation of the modern notion of human rights.” (Hannah Arendt and Human Rights, 3) No other 20th century thinker has thought so deeply, so critically, and so powerfully about the limits and possibilities for human rights. This article explores Arendt’s critique and reformulation of human rights in three parts. Part One offers a summary of Arendt’s critique of human rights as she develops it in the central chapter of The Origins of Totalitarianism, “The Decline of the Nation State and the End of the Rights of Man.” Part Two explores the intellectual foundations of Arendt’s reconstruction of human rights as the “the right to have rights” in her concept of natality, the core condition of human being. Finally, Part Three, engages Arendt’s effort in Eichmann in Jerusalem to think clearly about how international law might meaningfully understand the crime of “crimes against humanity.” Part One Hannah Arendt’s critical account of human rights is concentrated in her chapter, “The Decline of the Nation State and the End of the Rights of Man,” the final chapter of Imperialism, the Second Part of The Origins of Totalitarianism. Arendt’s chapter is divided into two parts. Part One, “The ‘Nation of Minorities’ and the Stateless People,” connects the breakdown of the nation-state system and the failure of human rights. The basic problem was that Europe was peopled by dozens of national, religious, and ethnic groups. In creating the nation state system, the European powers divided these peoples into three groups: First, state peoples; Second, other nationalities like the Slovaks in Czechoslovakia who were said to be equal partners in the state, “which of course they were not;” Third, a group of nationalities called simply minorities who were provided by a Minority Treaty with specific protections and rights. (Origins, 270) Arendt saw the “real significance of the Minority Treaties lies” was that now “millions of people” were legally recognized by international law to live “outside normal legal protection and [in need of] an additional guarantee of their elementary rights from an outside body….” (Origins, 274) The Minority Treaties made plain that minorities within nation states needed special extra-legal protection because those nation states could and at times would strip citizens of citizenship en route to expelling them or worse. The treaties framed the issue of minorities as a choice between assimilation or liquidation. Since nation states possess “the sovereign right of denaturalization,” the creation of stateless peoples and refugees deprived of national and civil rights are not exceptions, but are problems inherent to the regime of nation states. Arendt argues that the refugee introduces into the nation-state a class of persons who are denied the equal rights of citizenship, the very rights upon which the legitimacy of the nation-state depends. Further, she insists that there is no solution to the refugee problem. On the contrary, the centrality of stateless refugees to nation-states unveils the tragic flaw of the modern system of nation-state, what Arendt calls the paradox of sovereignty. The paradox of sovereignty refers to the Janus-faced nature of self-determination. On the one hand, sovereignty, the right of a rational people to control its own destiny, is the enlightenment’s gift to the modern political order. At the same time, however, sovereignty, the right of a people to live according to its singular idea and to pursue its own collective interests, is also the enlightenment’s dangerous empowering of nations to pursue their ends by whatever means necessary. The liberty of self-determination blends seamlessly with the dangers of ethnic cleansing and genocide. Part two of Arendt’s chapter on “The Decline of the Nation-State and the End of the Rights of Man”—titled “The Perplexities of the Rights of Man”—is Arendt’s most concentrated critique of human rights. The overarching claim of “The Perplexities of the Rights of Man” is that human rights—at least as traditionally understood—have not succeeded and will not succeed in doing what they aspire to do: guaranteeing the protection of human dignity. To understand why this is so, Arendt presents a number of perplexities that attach to human rights, perplexities that show the limits, weaknesses, and incoherence of human rights. What follows is an attempt to explore ten of the perplexities she identifies. First, human rights claim to express something in man worthy of absolute protection, and yet they only emerge at a time in history when man’s dignity and freedom could only be understood as relative values. The relativity of our modern age is importantly defined by both Darwinism and liberalism. Darwinism sees humanity as one species among many. Since evolution does not stop, there will be higher species. Darwinism thus kicks out one crutch supporting the idea of an absolute and inviolable human dignity. Similarly, liberalism is the political thinking of man governed by power rather than reason. Since power is unlimited, there can be no absolute values; the idea of an inviolable and sacrosanct humanity must fall amidst liberalism’s rationalist determination to employ any means necessary to achieve desirable ends. Together, Darwinism and liberalism expose the contingency of all contemporary claims to absolute human rights. Far from absolute, human rights arise only once it is seen that “Man, and not God’s command or the customs of history, should be the source of Law.” (Origins, 290) To declare that men have human rights is to put in mortal hands the absolute guarantees that were the traditional provenance of Gods, ancestral traditions, and timeless customs. Second, human rights are hailed as a sign of man’s progress and also a symptom of a particularly frightening and specifically modern form of rightlessness. Building on Alexis de Tocqueville and Baron von Montesquieu’s insights into the need for intermediary institutions that balance the power of sovereignty, Arendt argues that individual and emancipated men—men freed from those all-encompassing religious, social, spiritual, and traditional orders that for millennia had limited and moderated the evils that man might do to man—stand naked before the power of sovereign states. Instead of viewing human rights as a progressive advance, she understands the rights of man as a rearguard action necessitated once men had lost their traditional rights. Only when men were “no longer secure in the estates to which they were born or sure of their equality before God as Christians,” did they seek abstract human rights to protect them from the newly empowered sovereignty of nation states and the unlimited arbitrariness of selfdetermining sovereign nations. (Origins, 291) Human rights, for Arendt, are less a solution to the problem of oppression and rather a symptom of a specifically modern form rightlessness. Third, the Rights of Man are indistinguishable from and incompatible with the rights of peoples. Emancipation meant that not only individuals, but also peoples, were free to determine their own fate. “The whole question of human rights, therefore, quickly and inextricably blended with the question of national emancipation; only the emancipated sovereignty of the people, of one’s own people, seemed to be able to insure them.” (Origins, 291) The realization and import of this identification of the rights of man with the rights of people came to light only with the rise of rightless peoples, peoples comprised of people who were en masse deprived of human rights. All men prior to the 20th century belonged to some kind of organized political community such that “what we must call a “human right” today would have been thought of as a general characteristic of the human condition which no tyrant could take away.” (Origins, 297) Today, when the United Nations counts more than 42 million refugees, at least 15 million of whom are stateless, tens of millions of people are deprived of this general human condition. For these stateless persons, there is no home except an internment camp, the “only ‘country’ the world had to offer the stateless.” (Origins, 284) And for the states of the world, the presence of refugees within and without is a curse that gives the lie to the principle of equality before the law on which nation-states are built. The rights of man were supposed to be absolute and independent of government; but when emancipation meant also national self-determination, the absence of a government left human beings with no authority to protect their individual human rights. Fourth, the recourse to human rights had the perverse effect of turning the beneficiaries of those rights into animals. Arendt is alert to the ways that human rights organizations and the declarations they issued “showed an uncanny similarity in language and composition to that of societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals.” (Origins, 292) Human rights speaks the language of victimization, “a right of exception necessary for those who had nothing better to fall back upon.” (Origins, 293) To seek the protection of human rights is to portray oneself as a helpless victim, a being, like a speechless animal, whose only claim to assistance is an appeal to our pity. Fifth, human rights are actually second-class rights, fundamentally less meaningful than civil rights. What political liberals and defenders of rights want are civil rights, rights that are spelled out in tangible and enforceable laws. It is no accident, therefore, that when activists in the United States and other constitutional states advocate for the rights comprised by the eternal Rights of Man, they seek civil rights, whether by “legislation in democratic countries or through revolutionary action in despotisms.” (Origins, 293) Only those who have no confidence in the civil and legal institutions of their state abandon the concrete protections of civil liberties for the abstract hope of human rights. Human rights emerge only as a desperate plea once the claim for civil rights has failed. Sixth, human rights were embraced for being inalienable, and yet, in fact, they were unenforceable. “Whenever people appeared who were no longer citizens of any sovereign state,” these stateless refugees might appeal for the protection of their human rights, but those rights were guaranteed by no institution with the power to enforce them. (Origins, 293) Although human rights were to attach to humans simply in their being human, the truth was that without membership as citizens of a polity, human rights proved to be powerless. Seventh, the rights typically thought to be basic human rights—like the right to life or the right to be equality or the right to property—are not actually human rights. The soldier during war is deprived of his right to life; the criminal of his right to freedom; minors of the right to vote; citizens during an emergency of the right to happiness. (Origins, 295) In none of these instances, Arendt argues, does a violation of human rights takes place. On the contrary, these same civil rights can be granted by a totalitarian government even under conditions of fundamental rightlessness. Eighth, the rights of man, the most fundamental of all rights, are without foundation. The age of human rights, the 18th century, sought to found human rights in nature. “The very language of the Declaration of Independence as well as the Déclaration des Droits de l’Homme—“inalienable,” “given with birth,” “self-evident truths”—implies the belief in a kind of human “nature” which would be subject to the same laws of growth as that of the individual and from which rights and laws could be deduced.” (Origins, 298) However, Arendt sees that we have become suspicious of and alienated from nature. In the age of human fabrication and the advance of automation and technologies of government, men have “become just as emancipated from nature as eighteenth-century man was from history.” (Origins, 298) History and nature, she writes, have become equally alien to us. Just as the thinkers of the 18th century denied the foundation of human rights in history, we today no longer accept the claim that human rights can be founded in nature. Ninth, absent history and nature, the only possible foundation of human rights is that the right of every individual to belong to humanity be grounded by humanity itself. How humanity itself can ground human rights, however, is not clear. Moreover, “it is by no means certain whether this is possible.” (Origins, 298) The sphere of humanity, unlike the nation-state, does not yet exist. Further, the evolution of a world government would not inaugurate such a government of humanity; it is more than likely, Arendt sees, that a world government would be just as liable to justify the extermination of some for the benefit of the whole as it would to embody the ideals of humanity promoted by its idealistic proponents. Tenth, and finally, it should be the case that when a human being loses his political status and becomes “nothing but human,” he would be protected by the very human rights that human rights discourse advances. For Arendt, however, “the opposite is the case. It seems that a man who is nothing but a man has lost the very qualities which make it possible for other people to treat him as a fellow-man.” (Origins, 300) The final paradox of human rights is that human rights, both their existence and their loss, “coincides with the instant when a person becomes a human being in general—without profession, without a citizenship, without an opinion, without a deed by which to identify and specify himself.” (Origins, 302) Human rights, in other words, imagines and thus paves the way for the emergence of men so deprived of what makes them human that they are nothing more than barbarians and savages. The paradoxes that Arendt exposes in the idea of human rights do not lead her to any simple rejection of human rights. What is needed, instead, is a rethinking of human rights, an effort to think what human rights might actually exist and how they might be philosophically founded independent from their grounding in sovereignty. This requires, first, that we abandon the traditional discourse of human rights as it has emerged since the 18th century. This discourse itself, Arendt worries, helped make possible, through its failure, the very outrages of the 20th century. Second, and more speculatively, Arendt calls for a new thinking of human rights, what she renames, “the right to have rights.” Part Two: The Right to Have Rights Arendt seeks her bearings in reformulating human rights from her experiences of the Jews and other minority peoples during and preceding the holocaust. The true “calamity of the rightless” in the middle of the 20th century, Arendt writes, is “not that they are deprived of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, or of equality before the law and freedom of opinion… but that they no longer belong to any community whatsoever.” (Origins, 295) Human rights reflect the legalized exclusion of human beings from civilized communities and these human rights are “much more fundamental than freedom and justice, which are the rights of citizens.” (Origins, 296) The rights of man, in other words, are not revealed by the deprivation of specific rights, but by the plight of those who are expelled from all rights; the truly rightless are those who are so oppressed that they are deprived of legal status so that no one will even oppress them. It is this total deprivation of rights that makes manifest the one truly human right, what Arendt calls the “right to have rights.” As she writes: We became aware of the existence of a right to have rights (and that means to live in a framework where one is judged by one’s actions and opinions) and a right to belong to some kind of organized community, only when millions of people emerged who had lost and could not regain these rights because of the new global political situation. (Origins, 296-297) The right to have rights has proven an enigmatic formulation. Seyla Benhabib has worried that Arendt simply does not offer a full and philosophical elucidation of the right ot have rights: “by withholding a philosophical engagement with the justification of human rights, by leaving ungrounded her own ingenious formulation of the “right to have rights”, Arendt also leaves us with a disquiet about the normative foundations of her own political philosophy.” (Reluctant Modernism of Hannah Arendt, 82) At the same time, Benhabib tries to read a founding moment back into Arendt’s formulation. She divides the formula the “right to have rights” into two parts and argues that the two uses of “rights” are substantively distinguished. The first use of “right”, Benhabib argues, “evokes a moral imperative.” It is a moral demand to “Treat all human beings as persons belonging to some human group and entitled to the protection of the same.” (The Rights of Others, 56) On the basis of this first moral demand to belong, the second use of rights means, “I have a claim to do or not to do A, and you have an obligation not to hinder me from doing or not doing A.” Among those who are in a community, these rights are the civil and political rights of citizens. Taken together, Benhabib reads Arendt’s formula as providing first the moral demand for, second, the rights of citizenship and civil rights. (The Rights of Others, 57) As appealing as Benhabib’s interpretation is, it complicates Arendt’s hard-minded characterization of the right to have rights as “a right to belong to some kind of community.” Arendt means the right “to live in a framework where one is judged by one’s actions and opinions.” In doing so, Arendt excludes the traditional civil rights of life and liberty that Benhabib wants to read into Arendt’s formula. For reasons at the core of Arendt’s thinking, she clearly limits the right to have rights and thus human rights to only two rights, the right to act and the right to speak. The only truly human rights, for Arendt, are the rights to act and speak in public. The roots for this Arendtian claim are only fully developed five years later with the publication of The Human Condition. Acting and speaking, she argues, are essential attributes of being human. The human right to speak has, since Aristotle defined man as a being with the capacity to speak and think, been seen to be a “general characteristic of the human condition which no tyrant could take away.” (Origins, 297) Similarly, the human right to act in public has been at the essence of human being since Aristotle defined man as a political animal who lives, by definition, in a community with others. It is these rights to speak and act—to be effectual and meaningful in a public world—that, when taken away, threaten the humanity of persons. When human rights are properly limited to those activities that concern the humanity of persons, they should not be invoked to protect people’s freedom or even their lives. There will be times when one’s humanity demands that one die, especially in those situations in which one must fight for freedom, even to the death. It is human to fight for and die for freedom, Arendt insists, but these are not rights had simply by being human. “Man,” Arendt writes, “can lose all so-called Rights of Man without losing his essential quality as man, his human dignity. Only the loss of a polity itself expels him from humanity.” (Origins, 297) Human rights, in other words, are only those rights to speak and act amidst a people such that one’s words and deeds are seen and heard in such a way that they matter. At bottom, the only truly human right—the right to have rights—is the right to speak and act as a member of a people. Confusion over this point—and thus the efforts of human rights advocates to extend human rights to life and liberty (and also to second and third generation rights like economic prosperity)—cleaves human rights from its foundation in the human condition and risks, therefore, exposing the entire edifice of human rights as nonsense upon stilts. Arendt names the human condition of acting and speaking that underlies the right to have rights natality. Natality, the capacity to be born, is, as Peg Birmingham has seen, a double principle. On the one hand, natality reflects the fact that man can—by acting and speaking—start something new. In this sense, natality refers to man’s freedom in the sense of his spontaneity, the ability to begin and initiate something new. On the other hand, natality says also that a human being is born and, having been born, is given the gift of existence. This givenness—this “mere existence” that is “mysteriously given us at birth”—is an “anarchic” principle that is “[c]ut off and adrift from any sovereign constituting power or foundation….” (Hannah Arendt and Human Rights, 86) Since human existence, as physis, is cut off from any prior reason or ground, man is unjustifiable and thus vulnerable. Man stands alone as alien and strange. And this radical singularity that attaches to man’s natality both underlies Arendt’s defense of plurality and her insistence that the right to have rights includes the right to be as you are. It is the obligation in the face of the alien that must be respected as part of the human that, pace Birmingham, underlies Arendt’s guarantee of the right to have rights to every human being. Part Three One important consequence of her reformulation of human rights upon the human condition of natality is that Arendt offers a critique and reconstruction of the emerging international law offence of crimes against humanity. In her book Eichmann in Jerusalem, Arendt insists that one of the principle flaws of the Israeli Court’s judgment is its mistaken conception of what a crime against humanity is. For Arendt, neither a breach of the peace nor war crimes are meaningful crimes that might be prosecuted by international law. Instead, the only crime for which someone like Eichmann ought to be punished is the crime against humanity, by which she understands a very specific activity, an attack upon the human condition of plurality itself. Since the Nuremberg trials, international human rights trials like the Eichmann trial have focused on three crimes: “crimes against the peace” (the crime of aggressive war itself); “war crimes” (the illegal prosecution of war); and “crimes against humanity” (inhuman acts against civilians before or after war). For Arendt, neither of the first two crimes are meaningful today. Crimes against the peace—the crime of initiating war—has never been officially recognized as a crime and, moreover, it is rarely the case that only one side is responsible for initiating war. Few countries might who might prosecute another for crimes against the peace who have not themselves attacked others, thus leaving them open to the tu-quoque argument—and what about you? War crimes, too, are subject to the tu-quoque argument since it is impossible to fight a war under modern conditions without committing war crimes. The truth of the matter, Arendt writes, is that “by the end of the Second World War everybody knew that technical developments in the instruments of violence had made the adoption of “criminal” warfare inevitable.” (Eichmann in Jerusalem, 256) Given modern modes of war, the “distinction between soldier and civilian” upon which the definition of war crimes rests “had become obsolete.” War crimes, today, cannot be understood except to address those crimes that are simply inhuman, those acts done from mere cruelty “outside all military necessities, where a deliberate inhuman purpose could be demonstrated”— crimes that are better addressed by the category of “crimes against humanity.” (Eichmann in Jerusalem, 256) The problem is that in war, almost any attack on civilian populations can be militarily justified. From suicide bombers who justify their acts as necessary given the asymmetry of power to the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki to expedite Japanese capitulation and save American lives and from Shock and Awe in Iraq to Predator Drone attacks in Pakistan, there are almost no military acts today that, as Arendt understands it, can legitimately constitute a war crime. Provocatively, therefore, she suggests that we might need to abandon war crimes as a crime of international law. If neither crimes against the peace nor war crimes are meaningful today, Arendt does believe that the charge of crimes against humanity is an important, albeit misunderstood, crime. A crime against humanity, as Arendt understands it, is a fully new, modern, and unprecedented crime. While it is formulated already in the Nuremberg Charter, the Tribunal largely refused to use what seemed such an unprecedented crime—she cites the French Judge at Nuremberg, Donnedieu de Vabres, who writes: “the category of crimes against humanity which the Charter had let enter by a very small door evaporated by virtue of the Tribunal’s judgement.” (Eichmann in Jerusalem, 257) Article 6-c of the Nuremberg Charter defined a Crime Against Humanity as “Murder, extermination, enslavement, deportation, and other inhumane acts committed against any civilian population, before or during the war….” Against this formulation, Arendt disavows folding murder, extermination, enslavement, and deportation—all of which are existing and very different crimes—into the crime of crimes against humanity. Neither the Slavic pogroms nor even the Nuremberg laws that legalized discrimination against German Jews were, she insists, crimes against humanity. Also the crime of expulsion, the “enforced emigration” that the Germans practiced officially after 1938, was a wellrecognized crime of the international order, and not an unprecedented crime against humanity. Even genocide, to the extent that “massacres of whole peoples are not unprecedented” is inadequate in itself to constitute a crime against humanity. (Eichmann in Jerusalem, 288) Only when genocide—the effort to eliminate a race of people from the earth—is combined with the non-responsibility of bureaucratic administration does it become a crime against humanity, what Arendt terms “administrative massacres.” (Eichmann in Jerusalem, 288) What makes a crime a crime against humanity is that it is “an attack upon human diversity as such, that is, upon a characteristic of the “human status” without which the very words “mankind” or humanity” would be devoid of meaning.” (Eichmann in Jerusalem, 268-69) Properly understand, there is an important distinction between discrimination, murder, expulsion, and even massacre, on the one side, and the administrative effort to systematically eliminate from the earth a race of people. For Arendt, only the latter rises to the level of a crime against humanity. Words: 4,967 Sources 1. Arendt, Hannah, The Origins of Totalitarianism (New York: Harvest Books, 1973). 2. Benhabib, Seyla, The Rights of Others (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). 3. Benhabib, Seyla, The Reluctant Modernism of Hannah Arendt (Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage, 2004). 4. South Atlantic Quarterly, v. 103, special issue “And Justice for All? The Claims of Human Rights,” ed. by Ian Balfour and Eduardo Cadava (2004). 5. Rancière, Jacques, “Who is the Subject of the Rights of Man?”, in South Atlantic Quarterly, v. 103, special issue “And Justice for All? The Claims of Human Rights,” ed. by Ian Balfour and Eduardo Cadava (2004). 6. Balibar, Etienne, “Is a Philsoophy of Human Civic Rights Possible? New Reflections on Equaliberty,” trans. by James Swenson, in South Atlantic Quarterly, v. 103, special issue “And Justice for All? The Claims of Human Rights,” ed. by Ian Balfour and Eduardo Cadava (2004). 7. Hamacher, Werner, “The Right to Have Rights (Four-and-a-half Remarks),” trans. by Kirk Wetters, in South Atlantic Quarterly, v. 103, special issue “And Justice for All? The Claims of Human Rights,” ed. by Ian Balfour and Eduardo Cadava (2004). 8. Birmingham, Peg, Hannah Arendt and Human Rights (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006). 9. Arendt, Hannah, The Human Condition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958). 10. Arendt, Hannah, Eichmann in Jerusalem (New York: Penguin Books, 1963).