When Australia’s foreign minister Penny Wong issued a statement on Iran earlier this month, she didn’t mince her words: “We strongly condemn the killing of protestors, the use of violence, arbitrary arrests, and intimidation tactics by the Iranian regime against its own people.”
This is not new. Last year she issued twenty-two media releases condemning human rights violations around the world. Iran was condemned for orchestrating attacks against Australia’s Jewish community, and so too was Hamas for its terrorist attack of 7 October 2023. Sanctions were placed on white supremacist network Terrorgram to combat antisemitism.
Israel was condemned for actions in Gaza and the West Bank, with repeated calls to allow aid shipments and uphold the laws of war. Russia received multiple condemnations for its illegal war on Ukraine, repression of civil society and malicious cyber activity.
Wong also released statements on China’s detention of Australian Yang Jun, Myanmar’s airstrikes on civilians, North Korea’s weapons of mass destruction, Thailand’s deportation of Uyghurs, Afghanistan’s gender apartheid, atrocities in Sudan and people trafficking by scam call centres.
That’s a lot of condemnations. But do they have any impact? Could there be times when they are actually counterproductive? Political scientist Rochelle Terman’s The Geopolitics of Shaming: When Human Rights Pressure Works — And When It Backfires tries to answer these questions.
Terman sees statements like the foreign minister’s as a sort of shaming. By stigmatising the target — a stigma that increases if other countries join in — they impose social costs on their target. “Despite its reputation in some circles as ‘cheap talk,’ shaming is rarely just rhetorical,” she writes. “Countries rely on one another for things they care about, such as security cooperation, economic exchange, membership in international organisations, and prestige… If a country behaves in ways that others disapprove of, relational goods can be withdrawn or withheld.”
So, in theory, condemnation can be a tool to influence behaviour. But Terman goes a step further to examine its impact in practice by looking at all the condemnations made in the UN Human Rights Council’s universal periodic review process and how governments responded. These real life examples show that shaming results in different outcomes when a country shames its friends from when it shames its geopolitical rivals.
Shaming by an enemy tends to be weaponised: “When states condemn their adversaries, observers can safely assume that they are motivated by hostile intentions, which not only discredit accusations of human rights abuses but also cultivate a sense of provocation and attack.”
When geopolitical alignment is high, by contrast, governments are more likely to take external pressure seriously. Leaders will be more sensitive to condemnation from their strategic partners and allies, especially if there is a danger they might cut off aid or impose sanctions.
In other words, it matters crucially who is trying to shame whom. Thus, Australia’s condemnations of countries that care about its opinion (in 2025, perhaps Israel, Thailand and Sudan) are more likely to improve human rights practice than criticism of countries like Iran or Russia. Indeed, when Australia condemns a country or group that perceives us as an enemy, the condemnation can backfire when those who have been shamed respond with defiance.
Counterreactions are often rooted in existing power structures. If leaders perceive certain human right demands as a threat to their power, they may attempt to mobilise opposition to the human rights principles to mitigate this threat. This can lead to a shift away from what was desired and actually work against human rights reforms.
Beyond this, though, shaming can affect people who aren’t directly threatened by human rights reform. People often have deep emotional ties with their countries, and some may perceive international shaming as an attack on their country. If a domestic audience feels targeted by shaming, it may provoke a sort of national doubling-down on the violation and a diminished support for activism or political mobilisation in defence of human rights. It is quite possible for individuals to be critical of their group in private while opposing any public airing of criticism.
When shaming is perceived in this way in the target country it also increases the political costs for leaders if they comply with foreign demands. This works as a constraining factor: politicians cannot acquiesce to these external pressures without being perceived domestically as kowtowing to the enemy.
This, then, is what Terman describes as the “the shamer’s dilemma.” Despite being one of the most common responses to atrocities, naming and shaming poses serious questions for human rights promoters. Simply allowing violations to take place is morally reprehensible and often politically impossible, but shaming is a risky business and, in some instances, can even motivate further abuse.
So, what is a country like Australia to do? Does it continue shaming enemies? Even when it clearly isn’t working?
At times it will be important to affirm international support for a norm — for example, the prohibition of genocide. Even when there is little expectation that shaming will result in compliance it is still important to reaffirm belief in the norm that is being violated.
What should be avoided is imposing stigma for the sake of it. Rather than burnishing Australia’s credentials, the purpose should be to influence behaviour in a positive way. It is worth thinking about how to condemn in ways that limit backlash. For example, Terman finds that geopolitical allies tend to criticise each other “in less offensive, demanding, and sensationalist ways.”
Another option is not to publicly condemn the human rights violator but — given the evidence suggests pressure from their friends will be more effective — to put pressure on their strategic partners. Terman gives an example where South Africa agreed to sponsor a resolution targeting an African country on the assumption this would be more effective than if delivered by a European.
On the problem of criticising friends, one option would be for Australia to create a body independent of government with a remit to monitor international human rights compliance. When the foreign affairs minister has issued statements on India, for example, they were all about boosting economic ties and working together on collective security and prosperity. By contrast, an independent annual human rights snapshot could look at human rights compliance by friends and adversaries alike.
There’s also a place for cooperation and working alongside countries to improve their human rights performance. Peer mechanisms like the Australia–Vietnam Human Rights Dialogue are a way for two countries to support each other to improve practice.
The difficulty with all these approaches is what Terman describes as “a potentially outraged public demanding unequivocal condemnation of a perceived atrocity abroad.” It’s simply not as satisfying to hear that your government is doing quiet, behind-the-scenes work to improve compliance, even if this may be more effective.
Interestingly, Penny Wong’s statements last year show an awareness that promoting human rights is not just about shaming. Other statements included the appointment of a Special Envoy for International Human Rights, an Ambassador to Counter Modern Slavery, People Smuggling and Human Trafficking, an Ambassador for Gender Equality and an Ambassador for Climate Change. Each of these roles can work proactively to promote human rights compliance.
Perhaps the foreign minister’s most consequential statement on human rights was her launching of a global declaration to protect aid workers. The product of a year-long effort by Australia’s diplomats and civil society, it gained the signatures of more than 100 countries when it was launched at the United Nations in September.
After the death of Australia aid worker Zomi Frankcom in Gaza, Australia gathered a disparate group of countries including Colombia, Indonesia, Jordan and Sierra Leonne to develop a declaration reaffirming obligations under international humanitarian law and galvanising a commitment to protect those who are risking their lives for others. It was an example of how Australia can find common ground with a wide range of countries to reaffirm their common commitment to important norms.
It suggests that the minister understands that condemnation is not the only tool — and not always the best tool — to promote international human rights. •
The Geopolitics of Shaming: When Human Rights Pressure Works — and When it Backfires
By Rochelle Terman | Princeton University Press | US$99 | 216 pages
