Human Rights in a World at War

Photo courtesy of BBC

Today is Human Rights Day

“In war, there are no winners – only survivors.” UN Secretary-General António Guterres

Human Rights Day arrives this year in a world that feels more fragile than ever. Across continents, conflicts burn unchecked in Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Myanmar, Afghanistan and Yemen and each war is a reminder of how easily human rights collapse when power replaces humanity. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) begins with a simple truth: “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.” Yet dignity becomes the first casualty when bombs fall, when children hide in basements, when civilians become bargaining chips and when fear becomes a political tool.

War is not an abstract event. It is the cry of a mother searching for her child under rubble. It is the fear in the eyes of a boy at a checkpoint. It is the silence of an old man forced to leave his home for the last time. Human rights do not disappear because treaties fail; they disappear because human beings stop seeing one another as human. In every conflict, leaders fight but ordinary people bleed. Behind the guns and explosions lies something even more complex – the psychology of power, inequality, trauma and desperation.

The world often speaks of “terrorists” as though they are born monsters. But terrorism is not an identity; it is a consequence. It grows from injustice, oppression, humiliation, poverty, political manipulation and the hunger for power. Not everyone who suffers injustice becomes violent but every violent extremist has a story shaped by loss, fear, ideology or the belief that violence is their only language left. This does not excuse violence but understanding its roots is essential if the world is ever to truly prevent it.

Human rights are not just violated on battlefields; they are violated in the systems that create battlefields.

To understand terrorism, we must first understand human beings. No child is born dreaming of carrying a gun. People become radicalised because something in their world breaks – their dignity, their home, their identity or their hope.

Research by the UN Office of Counter-Terrorism identifies several causes that push individuals toward extremism: marginalisation, discrimination, poverty, lack of education, political exclusion, retaliation for violence they witnessed and psychological trauma. When a society leaves people invisible, unheard and helpless, extremist groups step in with false promises of purpose, protection and belonging.

Case studies from around the world illustrate how power and inequality feed violence. In the Middle East, generations of children have grown up under occupation, blockade, displacement or bombardment. Many join armed groups not out of ideology but out of rage, grief or the belief that no one else will protect them. In Nigeria, Boko Haram recruits teenage boys by offering food, money and identity, things poverty had stolen from them. In Afghanistan, the Taliban capitalised on decades of war, illiteracy and government corruption to indoctrinate young men who had never known peace.

Sri Lanka has its own painful history. The LTTE did not emerge overnight; it grew from years of ethnic discrimination, language injustices, political marginalisation and violence that alienated the Tamil community. This history does not justify terrorism but it explains why so many young people, stripped of rights and dignity became susceptible to militarised movements offering a sense of voice they never had.

Even in the West, many convicted extremists describe personal histories of isolation, racism, bullying or identity crises. Extremism grows where dignity dies. Where governments silence communities, communities break and where human rights collapse, violence enters.

The tragedy is not only the destruction terrorists cause but the reality that many terrorists were once victims themselves of war, power or injustice.

War is the ultimate violation of human rights. It is the point at which humanity is abandoned for power, territory, ego or ideology. Behind every war, a familiar pattern repeats: leaders fight political battles while civilians pay the price with their bodies, their futures and their dignity.

In Gaza, more than 15,000 children have been killed, entire neighbourhoods flattened, hospitals turned into war zones and families erased from civil registries. The war in Ukraine has displaced millions – children ripped from schools, elderly people fleeing winter without heat and families separated without knowing if they will ever reunite. In Sudan, atrocities including ethnic cleansing, sexual violence and famine reflect a conflict the world barely pays attention to. In Myanmar, the Rohingya have endured genocide, forced displacement and statelessness, becoming one of the world’s largest refugee populations.

War does not end when guns fall silent. It continues in bodies that cannot heal, in children who lose their childhoods, in women who survive assault, in families who return to empty homes and in communities who must rebuild trust after years of fear. Post-war Sri Lanka still lives with the wounds of mothers searching for missing children, families displaced for generations and a Tamil community still yearning for accountability, truth and recognition. War’s violence does not disappear; it simply evolves.

Behind many wars lies a hunger for power. Leaders speak of borders, security and victory but rarely of the human beings trapped in between. Power reduces people to numbers, statistics or political capital. Human rights demand we see them as lives.

One of the strongest illustrations comes from Rwanda. The 1994 genocide did not emerge overnight; it was cultivated by decades of propaganda, discrimination and power struggles. Radio stations reduced people to insects. Political leaders used fear to justify violence. When humanity is denied long enough, genocide becomes possible.

Power is one of the most intoxicating forces. It can build nations or destroy them. It can protect or violate. Too often war becomes a theatre of power where human rights become collateral damage.

To truly understand human rights in a world at war, we must look at individuals, not armies. Conflict becomes human when we see the faces behind the violence.

There is Amina, a nine year-old girl from Gaza who survived an airstrike but lost both parents. Her only words to aid workers were, “Will they bomb us again tonight?” Her childhood is not a political debate; it is a human tragedy.

There is Oleksii, a 17 year-old Ukrainian student whose school was destroyed. He now studies online from a bunker. War stole his graduation, his friendships and his future plans but he still dreams of becoming an engineer.

There is Fathima, a Sri Lankan Muslim woman who lost her shop during anti-Muslim riots. Her family had lived peacefully for generations but overnight they became targets of hate. Her story reflects how easily power and political narratives can turn neighbours into enemies.

There is Samuel, a child soldier in South Sudan who was abducted at 12. He said he never fired a gun by choice. He was scared of being killed by the commanders who controlled him. His life was shaped not by ideology but by survival.

There is Yasir, a young Tamil from Jaffna who joined an armed group in the 1990s after witnessing the killing of his cousin. Years later, he said he regretted everything but at the time, he felt there was no other way to defend his community. He was not born a fighter; he was shaped into one.

These stories expose a truth. People become violent when their world collapses. People become radical when they lose hope. People become destructive when they feel invisible.

This does not excuse violence; it explains the human desperation that allows violence to grow. If the world wants peace, it must stop treating human rights as optional.

Human Rights Day calls us to confront a painful truth: we live in a world where human beings forget their humanity too easily. Where power is valued more than life. Where war is normalised. Where terrorists are condemned for their violence but the systems that created them go unchallenged. Where children pay for decisions made by men in suits. Where millions suffer in silence, unseen by the world that should protect them.

Human rights were created to prevent this – to ensure that every human being, regardless of identity, nationality, religion, ethnicity or political belief is treated with dignity. But rights written on paper mean nothing if they are not lived in practice.

To end war, we must address the injustices that create war. To end terrorism, we must address the wounds that create terrorists. To build peace, we must rebuild dignity.

The UDHR envisioned a world where humanity triumphs over power. Where justice is not selective. Where equality is not theoretical. Where wars end not in silence but in healing. Where the powerful are held accountable and the powerless are protected.

Peace is not the absence of war peace is the presence of justice, humanity and dignity for all.