Adrienne de Ruiter

Dehumanisation is an elusive concept. While the term itself indicates that its meaning relates to a process that negatively affects the human aspect of the object involved, it proves more difficult to pinpoint what the ‘human aspect’ in this formula entails precisely or how dehumanisation can negatively affect it. This article aims to contribute to ongoing academic debates about dehumanisation by presenting a new way to understand this notion, which places the failure to recognise the moral relevance of human subjectivity at its conceptual core. The main argument is that dehumanisation involves a failure to recognise what matters most about human beings in a normative sense, namely the fact that their human subjectivity counts as a moral reason against mistreating them. This line of thought has the potential to bring together various strands in the available literature. The account integrates the insight that dehumanisation entails a denial of humanity, resonates with the idea that dehumanisation involves a particular form of moral exclusion and affirms that dehumanisation constitutes an affront to fundamental human interests, needs and rights.

Dehumanisation is a puzzling phenomenon. Nazi propaganda likened the Jews to rats, but also portrayed them as ‘poisoners of culture’. In the Soviet Union, the Stalinist regime called opponents vermin, yet put them on show trials. During the Rwandan genocide, the Hutus identified the Tutsis with cockroaches, but nonetheless raped Tutsi women. These examples reveal tensions in the way in which dehumanisers perceive, portray and treat victims. Dehumanisation seems to require that perpetrators both deny and acknowledge the humanity of their victims in certain ways. Several scholars have proposed solutions to this so-called ‘paradox of dehumanisation’ that question the usefulness of dehumanisation as a concept to explain genocidal violence, claim that dehumanisation is characterised by an unstable belief in the non-human essence of the dehumanised, or contend that dehumanisation revolves around a denial of metaphysical human status. The main aim of this article is to present a novel framework for theorising dehumanisation that offers a more straightforward solution to this paradox based on the idea that perpetrators deny their victims’ human standing in a moral sense without necessarily negating their biological human status or human subjectivity. The article illustrates this framework through examples drawn from Primo Levi’s memoirs of Auschwitz.

Dehumanisation is a puzzling phenomenon. Nazi propaganda likened the Jews to rats, but also portrayed them as ‘poisoners of culture’. In the Soviet Union, the Stalinist regime called opponents vermin, yet put them on show trials. During the Rwandan genocide, the Hutus identified the Tutsis with cockroaches, but nonetheless raped Tutsi women. These examples reveal tensions in the way in which dehumanisers perceive, portray and treat victims. Dehumanisation seems to require that perpetrators both deny and acknowledge the humanity of their victims in certain ways. Several scholars have proposed solutions to this so-called ‘paradox of dehumanisation’ that question the usefulness of dehumanisation as a concept to explain genocidal violence, claim that dehumanisation is characterised by an unstable belief in the non-human essence of the dehumanised, or contend that dehumanisation revolves around a denial of metaphysical human status. The main aim of this article is to present a novel framework for theorising dehumanisation that offers a more straightforward solution to this paradox based on the idea that perpetrators deny their victims’ human standing in a moral sense without necessarily negating their biological human status or human subjectivity. The article illustrates this framework through examples drawn from Primo Levi’s memoirs of Auschwitz.

Deepfake technology presents significant ethical challenges. The ability to produce realistic looking and sounding video or audio files of people doing or saying things they did not do or say brings with it unprecedented opportunities for deception. The literature that addresses the ethical implications of deepfakes raises concerns about their potential use for blackmail, intimidation, and sabotage, ideological influencing, and incitement to violence as well as broader implications for trust and accountability. While this literature importantly identifies and signals the potentially far-reaching consequences, less attention is paid to the moral dimensions of deepfake technology and deepfakes themselves. This article will help fill this gap by analysing whether deepfake technology and deepfakes are intrinsically morally wrong, and if so, why. The main argument is that deepfake technology and deepfakes are morally suspect, but not inherently morally wrong. Three factors are central to determining whether a deepfake is morally problematic: whether the deepfaked person would object to the way in which they are represented; whether the deepfake deceives viewers; and the intent with which the deepfake was created. The most distinctive aspect that renders deepfakes morally wrong is when they use digital data representing the image and/or voice of persons to portray them in ways in which they would be unwilling to be portrayed. Since our image and voice are closely linked to our identity, protection against the manipulation of hyper-realistic digital representations of our image and voice should be considered a fundamental moral right in the age of deepfakes.

This paper draws out certain complexities in Carl Schmitt’s theory on the concept of the political through a joint reading of The Concept of the Political (1932) and Theory of the Partisan (1963). The paper argues that the distinction between conventional, real and absolute enmity as brought forward in Theory of the Partisan cannot easily be applied in practice since the decision whether the situation at hand consitutes the extreme case in which one’s opponent forms an existential threat to the (way of) being of one’s collective is taken by the people involved in the conflict themselves and is thus always in a fundamental sense subjective. The paper illustrates this complexity through an analysis of two case studies: the 1994 Rwandan genocide and the United States’ War on Terror.