The k2p blog

The 20th century’s obsession with universalism – the notion that humanity can be bound by shared values, laws, or moral standards – was a profound misstep, rooted in shaky philosophical foundations and doomed by practical realities. From the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) in 1948 to global institutions like the United Nations, World Trade Organization, and International Criminal Court (ICC), universalism promised a unified moral order to transcend cultural and national divides. Yet this pursuit was not just misguided; it was built on false premises that ignored the inherent diversity of humans and their societies. Far from fostering harmony, universalism sought to suppress the biological and social variety that ensures humanity’s resilience and vitality. Driven partly by European guilt after World War II and cloaked in virtue-signaling, it misunderstood human nature and curbed the freedoms it claimed to champion. This post argues that universalism lacks any coherent philosophical grounding – relying on fictions like Natural Law – and fails practically by imposing unworkable frameworks that stifle diversity’s strength. Societies thrive when free to forge their own values, provided they do no harm to others, rendering universalism both unnecessary and counterproductive.

Shaky Foundations

Universalism’s most glaring flaw is its lack of a sound philosophical basis. Proponents often invoke Natural Law – the idea that universal moral truths are inherent in human nature or discoverable through reason – as a cornerstone. This concept, tracing back to thinkers like Aquinas and Locke, assumes a shared essence that dictates right and wrong across all societies. Yet Natural Law is a fiction, a construct that crumbles under scrutiny. As argued in my earlier post, it presupposes a uniformity of human values that history and anthropology disprove. If moral truths were truly universal, why do societies differ so starkly on fundamental questions – life, justice, freedom? The Aztec practice of human sacrifice was as rational to them as modern human rights are to the West; both reflect context, not eternal truths. Natural Law’s claim to universality ignores that reason itself is shaped by culture, environment, and survival needs, yielding no singular moral code.

The contradiction is evident in universalism’s own failures. If values like “do not kill” were innate, as Natural Law suggests, atrocities like the Rwandan genocide or the Holocaust would not have mobilized thousands of perpetrators acting with conviction. That thousands of Islamic fundamentalists believe that killing infidels is the right and proper thing to do makes a mockery of ideas of universal morality. Universalist institutions like the ICC assert that crimes such as genocide “shock the conscience of humanity,” implying a shared moral compass. Yet the very occurrence of these acts – often justified as cultural or political imperatives – exposes the absence of such a compass. All the most heinous, inhuman acts in the world – as considered by some – are all committed by other humans who have quite different values. Values are not universal; they are contingent, forged in the crucible of specific societies. To claim otherwise is to project one’s own biases as truth, a philosophical sleight-of-hand that Natural Law enables but cannot sustain.

Other philosophical defenses of universalism fare no better. Kant’s categorical imperative – act only according to maxims you would have as universal law – assumes a rational consensus that doesn’t exist. Societies prioritize different ends: Japan values collective harmony, while the US exalts individual liberty. Neither can universalize its maxim without negating the other. Human rights, another universalist pillar, rest on the same shaky ground. The UDHR’s assertion of inalienable rights – life, equality – sounds noble but lacks grounding in any objective reality. Rights are not discovered; they are invented, reflecting the priorities of their creators (post-war Western elites). When Saudi Arabia or China rejects aspects of the UDHR, they’re not defying reason but asserting their own rational frameworks. Universalism’s philosophical poverty lies in its refusal to admit this pluralism, insisting instead on a unity that suppresses the diversity of human thought.

Over the past three centuries, universalism has masked control as moral duty. Colonial powers invoked civilization to plunder India and Africa, erasing diverse traditions under a universalist banner. The ICC’s African focus continues this, imposing Western justice while sparing Western crimes, proving universalism’s selectivity. Such interventions violate the principle of ‘do no harm,’ curbing societies’ freedom to differ unless they tangibly harm others.

This suppression is not just academic – it’s a curb on freedom. Diversity in values allows societies to experiment, adapt, and thrive in unique ways. Bhutan’s Gross National Happiness metric defies Western materialism yet fosters stability. Indigenous Australian kinship laws prioritize community over individualism, sustaining cultures for millennia. Forcing these societies to align with a universal standard – whether Natural Law or human rights – erases their agency, imposing conformity under the guise of morality. Philosophically, universalism fails because it denies the reality of human variation, mistaking difference for defect.

Why Universalism

The 20th-century love affair with universalism was more emotional than philosophical, driven by European guilt after World War II. The Holocaust, colonial atrocities, and global wars left Europe’s moral credibility in tatters. Once-proud imperial powers faced a reckoning, with their Enlightenment ideals exposed as hollow, by gas chambers, induced famines and bombed cities. The UDHR, drafted under UN auspices, was less a global consensus than a European attempt to reclaim moral ground. Its language – steeped in Western liberalism – framed rights as universal truths, ignoring dissenting voices from post-colonial or non-Western states. Ratification was pushed as necessary evidence of a country being part of the new civilised world order. Countries like India or Saudi Arabia ratified it with caveats, revealing the myth of unity. This virtue-signaling extended to institutions like the UN and ICC, which promised a new world order while sidestepping Europe’s complicity in creating the old one.

Universalism’s roots lie in ancient dreams of unity – Stoic cosmopolitanism, Christian salvation – but these were aspirational, not coercive. The Enlightenment and colonial eras turned universalism into a tool of control, with Natural Law as a flimsy excuse. But these fictions fail to bridge the diversity of human values.

This guilt-driven push was not about understanding humanity but about control by retaking the moral high ground. By proclaiming universal values, Europe (and later the West) sought to redefine the global moral landscape in its image. The ICC’s focus on African states – over 80% of its cases – while sparing Western actions in Iraq or Afghanistan, echoes colonial “civilizing” missions. Universalism became a tool to judge and intervene, not to unite. Its philosophical weakness – lacking a basis beyond Western dogma – made it ripe for such misuse, cloaking power in moral rhetoric.

Universalism is unworkable

Beyond its philosophical flaws, universalism fails practically by imposing frameworks that ignore the diversity of human societies. The complexity of aligning multiple nations under one standard grows exponentially with each participant, as vetoes and competing interests stall progress. The UN Security Council exemplifies this: a single veto from the US, France, the UK, Russia or China can paralyze action, as seen in Syria’s decade-long crisis. The WTO’s Doha Round, launched in 2001, remains deadlocked after 24 years, with 164 members unable to reconcile their priorities. The ICC’s record is equally dismal – 10 convictions in over two decades, none involving major powers like the US or India, who opt out entirely. These failures stem from a simple truth: the more diverse the players, the harder it is to find, let alone enforce, a universal rule.

Contrast this with bilateral agreements, which are exponentially simpler. A nation negotiates with one partner at a time, tailoring terms to mutual benefit without navigating a global gauntlet. Since the 1990s, bilateral trade deals have surged – over 300 globally by 2025 – while multilateral talks languish. The USMCA replaced NAFTA precisely because three nations could align faster than 34 under earlier pan-American proposals. Even security pacts, like India-Japan defense agreements, thrive on bilateral trust, not universal ideals. The math is clear: for “N” countries, managing “N-1” bilateral relationships is far less chaotic than wrestling with “N!” (N factorial) potential interactions in a multilateral arena. Like Rome’s Pax Romana, modern universalism falters when imposed, breeding resistance not unity. Bilateral cooperation, rooted in mutual respect, proves more viable

Universalism’s practical flaw is its denial of sovereignty. Societies function best when free to set their own rules, as long as they do no harm to others. Iceland’s secular egalitarianism and Saudi Arabia’s religious conservatism coexist peacefully because neither imposes its values across borders. When harm occurs—say, overfishing causing dwindling fish stocks, bilateral and/or multilateral cooperation among the parties involved can address it far better than by demanding ideological conformity. Universalist institutions, by contrast, breed resentment by judging internal practices. The UN’s human rights sanctions on Iran or the ICC’s warrants against African leaders provoke defiance, not compliance, as societies reject external moralizing.

The Strength of Difference

Individuals being different is humanity’s greatest asset, biologically and socially. Genetically, variation ensures survival (of the species though not of the unfit individual), allowing species adaptation to environmental shifts – a too narrow genetic spread would go extinct. Socially, this diversity manifests in the myriad ways societies organize themselves. The Maasai’s nomadic communalism sustains them in arid lands, while Singapore’s meritocratic discipline drives its prosperity. These systems, often at odds with universalist ideals, prove that cohesion requires no global standard. The “do no harm” principle respects this, allowing societies to be “unusual” so long as they avoid cross-border damage. When Japan’s whaling sparks debate, the issue is ecological impact, not moral offense. This approach fosters peace through mutual restraint, not forced unity.

Universalism’s attempt to erase the “we/them” dichotomy is both futile and destructive. Group identity – cultural, national – fuels cohesion and innovation. The “brotherhood of man” sounds noble but ignores that brotherhood privileges some over others. To eliminate “we/them” is to strip societies of their freedom to differ, demanding a homogeneity that negates diversity’s strength. The backlash – rising nationalism, skepticism of global bodies – reflects a reclaiming of this freedom.

Conclusion: Beyond Universalism

The 20th-century chase for universalism was a flawed response to a troubled era, rooted in European guilt and philosophical fiction. Natural Law and its offspring – human rights, global justice – lack grounding in the reality of human diversity. Practically, universalism’s complex frameworks collapse under the weight of competing sovereignties, while bilateral solutions prove nimbler and more respectful of difference. Societies thrive when free to forge their own paths, bound only by the duty to do no harm. Humanity’s strength lies not in sameness but in variation – genetic, cultural, ideological. By embracing this, we can foster a world of cooperation without conformity, where diversity, not universalism, ensures our resilience and freedom.

In order of difficulty in organising any field of activity, national is simpler than bilateral which is, in turn, simpler than multi-lateral and international –  in that sequence. It seems the world was bitten by the international bug during the 20th century, but has now realised it has gone too far and is now gingerly drawing back because international bodies have largely proven ineffective, bureaucratic, or politically manipulated.