An emblematic case is the decision of the University of Pisa to suspend two framework agreements with Israeli counterparts, which shortly followed an amendment to the University’s Statute that now “recognises peace as a fundamental principle and commits to promoting its application across all institutional activities”. Accordingly, the Academic Senate held that all collaborations must be evaluated in light of “the Statute’s core values of peace, justice, and ethical responsibility”. Similarly, the University of Padua’s decision not to undertake new agreements with Israeli partners “that contribute to the continuation of severe violations of international law and the illegal occupation of Palestinian territory” explicitly refers to the University Statute, according to which the University “promotes the development of a culture founded on universal values such as human rights, peace, environmental protection, and international solidarity”. Along the same lines, the University of Milan’s decision not to “sign or renew any agreement with universities, institutions or other stakeholders that are implicated directly or indirectly in these violations” was based on the premise that “all academic cooperation agreements must be consistent with fundamental rights, the promotion of peace, as well as any other rights protected by the University Statute”.

These developments suggest a growing willingness on the part of Italian universities to acknowledge their role and responsibilities in promoting peace and human rights, as well as to act accordingly. They also indicate that international agreements not aligned with universities’ statutory commitments should, in principle, be avoided or suspended. At the same time, however, it should be noted that the decisions mentioned above were adopted mainly in response to public pressure and as exceptional measures, rather than pursuant to pre-established criteria and procedures. In fact, even the institutions that decided to suspend or review agreements have not, to date, developed human rights policies specifically aimed at preventing academic collaborations from being concluded with partners involved in human rights violations, leaving it unclear how such decisions will be concretely implemented. A limited step in this direction can be found in the recent amendment to the Dual−Use Research Guidelines of Sapienza University of Rome, which introduces due diligence requirements for certain collaborations with non-EU partners. However, limiting screening mechanisms to dual−use research fails to address universities’ human rights responsibilities as broadly defined in their statutes.

Therefore, in order to ensure full consistency between formal commitments and practice, Italian academic institutions should consider designing and implementing due diligence procedures for all their academic and institutional activities, including international agreements. Moreover, although universities’ statutes normally refer to peace and human rights as fundamental principles, these references are often vague and do not properly define the nature and scope of such commitments. In particular, there has so far been no debate within Italian academia on whether universities have mere social responsibilities to respect human rights – similarly to business enterprises under the international business and human rights framework – or whether they are directly bound by international human rights norms as State organs under international law. Arguably, addressing these theoretical issues and developing operational frameworks regulating the conclusion of international collaborations would not only enhance coherence between formal commitments and practice, but also allow universities to respond to human rights concerns – such as those raised by partnerships with certain Israeli institutions – more rapidly and effectively than they have done in recent years.

What did the African Court order?

The LIDHO case originated in 2006 in Abidjan. The claimants argued that the illegal dumping of toxic waste at multiple sites by the ship Probo Koala, chartered by TRAFIGURA Limited had resulted in severe harm to life and the environment. The consequences ranged from groundwater contamination to air pollution, causing multiple deaths and serious health effects. Relying on extensive evidence, the Court found that Côte d’Ivoire had violated the rights to life and health of all affected persons. Crucially, it concluded that the Ivorian authorities failed to protect the right to a generally satisfactory environment, having neither prevented the dumping nor ensured effective decontamination.

To remedy these violations, the Court ordered a comprehensive set of reparation measures, demonstrating how large-scale pollution can be effectively addressed. Côte d’Ivoire was required to prosecute those responsible for the environmental disaster, establish a compensation fund, create a register of all victims, implement legislative reforms banning hazardous waste dumping, and enact laws holding companies liable for human rights and environmental harms. The Court also mandated training programs for public officials and universities to raise awareness of the interdependence between the environment and human rights.

Côte d’Ivoire: has it really complied?

Côte d’Ivoire was ordered by the Court to implement the prescribed reparation measures within one year of the notification of the judgment. On 23 November 2023, just only two months after the Court’s ruling, the country amended its domestic law through a new Environmental Act. This new legislation incidentally reflects some of the Court’s orders, establishing, inter alia, a right to a healthy environment, a right to environmental education, criminalising the import and dumping of hazardous waste, providing a right to remedy for ecological harm, and introducing criminal liability provisions for companies involved in toxic waste dumping.

However, this legislation was not a direct response to the LIDHO judgment, raising concerns about true compliance with the judgment. According to the Ivorian Minister of Environment, in a statement of 18 October 2024, the purpose of the reform – without any reference to the Court’s ruling – was to modernize the previous legal framework and align it with the imperatives posed by emerging environmental challenges and protection needs. Côte d’Ivoire’s full compliance with the Court’s orders remains uncertain. In addition, the Court has not thus far received any detailed report on the implementation of these measures. In its 2024 Activity Report, it emphasized that key information regarding the execution of decisions concerning Côte d’Ivoire, including the LIDHO judgment, are still missing, despite repeated reminders to the authorities. In short, Côte d’Ivoire has not complied yet with the ruling, which raises the key question: what comes next?

AU Executive Council’s response and what lies ahead

On 13 February 2025, following its examination of the Court’s 2024 Activity Report, the AU Executive Council — mandated to monitor the execution of the Court’s judgments — merely called upon States to comply fully with the Court’s rulings. It stopped short of expressly naming non-compliant States, including Côte d’Ivoire. No concrete follow-up measures were adopted, nor were States required to provide detailed information on implementation. This pattern of supervision, regrettably, is not new.

Yet the story may not end there. As in the Ogiek case, the Court could suo motu convene a public hearing to assess whether — and to what extent — Côte d’Ivoire has implemented the LIDHO judgment. Such a move would be more than welcome, as the Ivorian government’s response stands to influence expectations of future environmental cases. LIDHO’s implementation therefore deserves close scrutiny.

The UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs) establish that companies have a responsibility to conduct HRDD to identify, prevent, and mitigate their adverse human rights impacts. Amnesty concludes that the companies supplying Pakistan “failed to conduct adequate HRDD.” This finding, however, prompts a more granular question: what constitutes “adequate” diligence within complex, multi-jurisdictional supply chains?

It is important to note that the UNGPs themselves are not a legally binding document in international law. However, they establish the global standard of practice expected of all businesses and are integrated into various binding domestic laws and regional instruments, such as the German Supply Chain Due Diligence Act (LkSG) and the EU’s Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive (CSDDD), creating a legal obligation for in-scope companies domiciled in those jurisdictions.

The Utimaco-Datafusion Case

A case outlined in the report, involving the German company Utimaco and the UAE-based Datafusion, serves as a poignant illustration. Utimaco manufactures the “Lawful Intercept Management System” (LIMS), a powerful software that allows for the deep inspection of digital communications. Datafusion purchases this software, integrates it into larger monitoring centres, and exports the complete system to Pakistani telecommunications providers. Under Pakistani law, these providers are forced to install such systems and grant direct access to the country’s intelligence agencies, notably the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI). Crucially, as revealed in a 2024 Islamabad High Court case, this surveillance apparatus operates “without any supervision, oversight or control,” and without obtaining the judicial warrants mandated by Pakistan’s own Investigation for Fair Trial Act, 2013 (FTA).

This layered corporate structure presents a core legal challenge under the UNGPs, which differentiate between a company causing harm, contributing to it, or being directly linked to it through its business relationships. The extent of a company’s responsibility to act, specifically, to exercise leverage or, in the extreme, to disengage hinges on this precise distinction. A key question arises: was Utimaco, as the original technology maker, contributing to human rights abuses, or merely linked through its partner, Datafusion?

Utimaco possessed meaningful leverage (the ability to effect change in the wrongful practices of its business partner) that could have been exercised. Its LIMS product includes a technical safeguard, which is a warrant management system designed to log and audit lawful interception. The court’s revelation that Pakistani authorities had never used this system to file a single warrant in over a decade is a glaring red flag, and raises an important question: did Utimaco’s HRDD obligation extend to verifying the functional use of its own built-in compliance features? Should it have required contractual commitments from Datafusion on end-use monitoring? Arguably, yes.

Standard for Adequate HRDD       

This shows the need for a more robust and legally nuanced application of the UNGPs, where ‘adequate’ HRDD in multi-layered supply chains is understood as a proactive, iterative, and continuous process, encompassing several key, non-exhaustive obligations:

1. Context-Aware Assessment: Pre-export evaluations must scrutinize the ultimate deployment environment, not just the immediate customer. For Utimaco, this would have entailed analyzing Pakistan’s documented pattern of warrantless surveillance, evaluating the likelihood that technical safeguards would be bypassed, and anticipating how integration into state-run networks could magnify systemic rights violations.
2. Downstream Contracting: Contracts with distributors and integrators within the supply chain should not merely transfer products but embed enforceable HRDD obligations. A framework between Utimaco and Datafusion could have required independent verification of warrant system usage, mandatory reporting of compliance breaches, and escalation protocols, converting abstract responsibility into measurable duties.
3. Ongoing Monitoring: HRDD should be ongoing, recognizing that risks may change over time as the business enterprise’s operations and operating context evolve. For technologies that enable human rights violations, adequate HRDD cannot end at the point of sale but must include mechanisms for tracking the functioning of safeguards post-deployment [see Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive]. Continuous monitoring would have revealed that Pakistan’s authorities systematically ignored the built-in warrant system, triggering a duty to intervene or reconsider the business relationship.
4. Clear Disengagement Triggers: When monitoring shows that leverage fails and abuse persists, companies must be prepared to terminate partnerships. Defined thresholds, such as repeated bypass of audit systems, translate the UNGPs’ guidance on ending complicity into concrete operational standards. The OECD Due Diligence Guidance too, provides that companies should consider ending relationships where efforts to mitigate risk prove ineffective. Notably, Pakistani law lacks mandatory HRDD in the context of business impacts on human rights, a gap that deters meaningful oversight, weakens incentives for companies to monitor downstream use, and ultimately allows high-risk technologies to operate without enforceable accountability safeguards.

As the Utimaco-Datafusion case makes clear, human rights due diligence isn’t a tick-box exercise. It’s about sustained attention – anticipating risks, enforcing responsible terms in contracts, and keeping oversight alive across every link in the supply chain to make sure dual-use tools are deployed in line with global rights standards.

The regulatory debate on AI in the context of human genetics and genomics involves two continuums — risks and innovation — leading to contentious discussions over global, local, and self-regulation. Given the potential benefits of AI, companies and even countries are investing in and promoting the development of AI. It is encouraging that companies are volunteering to develop ethical frameworks for AI regulation; however, they often miss the core values human rights protect. It triggers an inquiry into why global governance of AI to human genetics and genomics is crucial, and how the human rights framework can provide effective global governance.

Human genomics involves the increased application of data-driven science, where the application of AI is manifold, ranging from diagnosis and screening to drug development and treatment. It holds great promise in healthcare by adding precision, speed, and optimisation to genetic diagnosis, precision medicine, and precision health. It can help promote the next wave of medical and healthcare immensely.

However, it can also deepen and enlarge human rights concerns, such as data privacy and biases in medical algorithms and decision-making. Diversity in genetic datasets is important for creating algorithms used to train machine learning models. The lack of diversity in global genetic datasets and the exclusion of marginalised populations in national genetic datasets may lead to discrimination and inequity in genetic research and genomic medicine. Thus, research findings and treatment using these datasets may be inaccurate and less useful for the excluded populations. It may also create a new subclass, privileged with the genetically advanced treatment, leaving others from its loop and deepening health disparities.

Furthermore, the black-box problem (that is, the difficulty in comprehending how a complex system arrives at a decision) complicates the explainability of AI-driven decision-making in the field of human genetics and genomics. Although existing ethical, legal, and policy frameworks address developments in the domain of human genetics and genomics, notably the Universal Declaration on the Human Genome and Human Rights (1997) and the Declaration of 2002, followed by regional human rights instruments and specific legislations of various countries. However, new and unprecedented challenges arising from the AI-human genetic and genomic interface warrant a specific approach. At the intersection of AI and genetics, robust data anonymisation is extremely difficult, and AI’s surveillance, data tracking, and pattern recognition capabilities exacerbate human rights risks.

The relevance of a human rights gaze into the regulation and governance of AI-human genetics/genomics is pertinent on several counts. The universality of human rights appears to be compatible with the universal (cross-border) nature and global impact of AI and genetics. The human rights approach takes a human-centric perspective, whereas technology-driven policies guide ethical frameworks that are developed and implemented by companies with profit as the primary focus. While ethical frameworks are open to varied interpretation, human rights are more established and uniform in their application. Finally, contrary to human rights, which are enforceable and actionable, ethical frameworks appear weak due to their reliance on self-regulation and principles that can be ambiguous and unclear.

The right to science, which has been recognised as a cultural right in international human rights instruments, could help regulate AI and genetics equitably, as it ensures the benefits of science are available to all. In the genetic and genomic research, data stewardship and data security also require inspiration from the HR framework. Scientists need to be more committed to respecting the human rights of individuals and groups who participate in their experiments, whether willingly or not.

Given the serious impact of AI on humanity (such as autonomous weapon systems, and genetic discrimination), human rights norms become essential and should therefore support the global governance of AI. AI complements humans; therefore, a debate about their harmonious and respectful coexistence makes sense. Human rights-centric AI regulation has a blend of coexistence, managing vast genomic datasets, harmonising and standardising this information, and employing machine learning techniques to clean missing data and sort human genomic data.

A Test Case: xAI in the U.S.

Reflections on the evolution of this field can be drawn from the case of xAI, a company dedicated to the development of AI, which, since mid-2024, has operated a data center near Boxtown, Memphis.

Some researchers have found that the presence of pollutants in the air, such as nitrogen dioxide, has increased significantly compared to the pre-xAI period in areas surrounding the data center and, to some extent, in nearby zones. This increase has been linked, with a high level of probability, to the operation of the new xAI data center.

On 17 June 2025, the Southern Environmental Law Center, an environmental advocacy organization in the United States, sent a formal notice to xAI on behalf of the NAACP, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, demanding that the company cease operating polluting gas turbines. The notice argued that xAI’s decision “to install and operate dozens of polluting gas turbines without any permits or public oversight is a clear violation of the Clean Air Act”. Boxtown is, in fact, a community predominantly composed of Black residents, originally founded by individuals who were formerly enslaved.

At the local level, the Shelby County Health Department, the public authority responsible for safeguarding community health and environmental standards in the Memphis area, implemented the installation of air monitoring instruments to assess the potential impact of the data center. Similar initiatives were also announced by Memphis Community Against Pollution, which is seeking independent monitoring mechanisms to ensure transparency and accountability.

Yet, despite these measures, residents have continued to raise concerns. Communities in Boxtown and the surrounding areas have reported a range of health issues, from respiratory discomfort to worsening asthma, suggesting a potential link between the operation of xAI and declining health conditions. The World Health Organization has associated similar increases in pollutant levels with the types of symptoms reported by these communities.

The Role of the UN Guiding Principles in the Protection of the Environment and Health

This case is situated within a broader challenge: balancing the rapid expansion of AI training with the protection of the rights to a healthy environment and to health as suggested by the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs).

According to Principle 13, business enterprises have a responsibility to “avoid causing or contributing to adverse human rights impacts through their own activities, and address such impacts when they occur”. Principle 17 further explains that human rights due diligence should be initiated as early as possible in the development of a new activity, such as the construction and operation of an AI data center, including its management of gas emissions. Moreover, Principle 18 states that this process must involve “meaningful consultation with potentially affected groups”. Applied to the case described above, this would require identifying from the outset which communities may be affected – such as the residents of Boxtown – and taking into account the distinct risks to which they are exposed, including not only environmental damage but also health-related harm.

Finally, Principle 22 emphasizes that “where business enterprises identify that they have caused or contributed to adverse impacts, they should provide for or cooperate in their remediation through legitimate processes”.

Although these principles are not legally binding, they outline a clear framework for action that companies should follow. Since AI training and the operation of data centers are associated with increased greenhouse gas emissions, as well as significant water and energy consumption, establishing a link between AI-related environmental pollution and adverse human rights impacts – whether in the United States or elsewhere – would represent a significant step forward in protecting the human right to a clean and healthy environment, and in preventing future environmental harm. This can contribute to enhancing the protection of human rights.

Human Rights Issues with AI Procurement

One of the most striking observations in the report is the lack of human rights due diligence (HRDD). Many procurement processes for AI systems do not include systematic impact assessments to evaluate potential risks for affected communities. This omission allows harmful tools to be adopted without sufficient safeguards. The second concern is bias and discrimination. AI systems often amplify existing social inequalities, particularly when they rely on unrepresentative datasets or opaque design structures. This can result in unfair outcomes in hiring, credit scoring, policing, or welfare distribution. The report also identifies transparency and oversight gaps. Individuals impacted by AI decisions often have no clarity on how those decisions were reached, no effective appeal mechanisms, and no guarantee of vendor accountability.

Finally, the report highlights that those vulnerable and high-risk contexts, such as healthcare, policing, justice, or welfare—tend to have the weakest safeguards, even though the consequences of errors in these areas are most severe.

Technical Concepts & Risk Areas

The Working Group underscores that understanding the technical foundations of AI is crucial to identifying where risks emerge. One central issue is bias in datasets and model training. If historical data reflects discriminatory practices, AI trained on such data can reproduce or even intensify those biases. Another concern is explainability and interpretability. Many AI models operate as “black boxes,” making it difficult for individuals or institutions to understand how decisions are made. This opacity undermines accountability and obstructs meaningful redress. The report also emphasizes risk classification and the regulation of high-risk systems. Tools used in predictive policing, medical diagnostics, or social welfare allocation are inherently high risk and should be subject to enhanced safeguards, including independent audits, continuous oversight, and human review. Finally, contractual levers and regulatory requirements play a critical role. Procurement contracts should impose technical obligations such as transparency standards, data protection measures, and rights of audit to manage risks downstream in the AI lifecycle.

Normative Shifts

The report signals important governance trends. First, there is a move from reactive to proactive governance. Human rights considerations should be embedded at the procurement stage, rather than applied retrospectively after harms occur. Second, the emphasis is on embedding rights in contracts and legal frameworks. Beyond voluntary guidelines, governments must adopt binding standards and insert enforceable obligations into procurement contracts to hold vendors accountable. Third, the report calls for stakeholder consultation and inclusivity. Affected communities, particularly marginalized groups, should have a voice in procurement processes to ensure the systems deployed are fair and locally relevant. Lastly, there is an emphasis on risk regulation and classification regimes. Recognizing that AI systems vary in their potential harm, the report stresses that higher-risk systems must be subject to stricter compliance and monitoring.

Implications for Stakeholders

The findings carry important implications for multiple actors. States and governments must integrate human rights due diligence into procurement laws, mandate human rights impact assessments, and establish oversight bodies to monitor compliance. Vendors and private sector actors are expected to design AI tools that incorporate fairness, explainability, and accountability from the outset. They must also accept contractual obligations that bind them to uphold human rights standards throughout the lifecycle of their systems. Civil society and affected communities play a vital role in demanding transparency, challenging biased outcomes, and ensuring that procurement processes reflect diverse perspectives. Their engagement ensures that AI deployment respects dignity and equity. Technical standard bodies and regulators must develop clear frameworks for risk classification, audit standards, and explainability requirements. They also need to work towards interoperable governance regimes across jurisdictions to address the global nature of AI technologies.

Bottomline

The UN report makes clear that the procurement and deployment of AI are not neutral, technical processes but moments of profound ethical, legal, and political significance. When human rights considerations are sidelined, AI amplifies harm and entrenches inequality. Conversely, when procurement and deployment are aligned with human rights principles, AI can become a tool of justice, accountability, and inclusion. Ensuring this alignment requires collaboration across governments, businesses, civil society, and regulators. Procurement must be recognized not simply as a purchasing exercise but as an ethical commitment. As the report emphasizes, embedding human rights into AI governance is not a barrier to innovation but the foundation of a fair and resilient digital future.

From Obligation to Option: Shelving Rights Protection

The framework’s voluntary nature systematically undermines fundamental human rights principles, particularly the rights to life and health threatened by extreme weather events when banks delay divestment from high-carbon activities through obscuring their exposures. It also removes obligations to report facilitated emissions from capital markets activities and dilutes disclosure language from “regardless of materiality assessment” to “where material”.

This fallback occurs precisely when the UN Human Rights Committee has explicitly recognized climate inaction as a direct threat to foundational human rights in the landmark case of Daniel Billy v Australia.  Such findings implicate not only broader state obligations but also clear expectations for business enterprises. The UNHRC draws an evolving connection between business-related climate inaction and human rights violations, recognizing that businesses may be held responsible not only for direct harm, but for failing to act where duties exist to prevent harm, particularly within supply chains. Businesses are expected to conduct human rights due diligence to mitigate and address such impacts.

Banking’s Unacknowledged Complicity in Rights Violations

The UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights establish unambiguous responsibilities for businesses to identify, prevent, and remedy adverse human rights impacts linked to their operations. Yet the banking sector has largely evaded this accountability framework through the fiction that financing activities are merely passive enablers rather than active participants in rights violations.

Consider the framework’s new materiality threshold: a bank may deem a $50 million coal mining investment financially immaterial to its trillion-dollar portfolio while disregarding the immeasurable materiality of respiratory disease, water contamination, and cultural devastation for affected communities. This interpretation of “materiality” allows banks to cleanse their balance sheets of human suffering.

Would we accept manufacturing companies disclosing workplace safety violations only “where material” to financial statements? Why then do we permit financial institutions this exceptional latitude when their financing decisions can devastate entire communities’ fundamental rights?

The Emerging Right to Climate Justice

Courts increasingly recognize the intimate connection between climate action and human rights protection. The Dutch court in Milieudefensie v Shell  rejected the fragmentation of responsibility, establishing that corporations bear “individual partial responsibility” for climate mitigation regardless of their relative contribution. The Urgenda judgment established state accountability for climate inaction based on Articles 2 and 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights, while the European Court of Human Rights in KlimaSeniorinnen v Switzerland further cemented the connection between climate protection and intergenerational equity.

These precedents point toward an emerging legal standard where voluntary frameworks become insufficient. Climate litigation databases show courts are developing jurisprudence linking financing decisions to human rights impacts. For instance, ING Bank’s fossil fuel financing was alleged to violate its duty of care by contributing to rights violations, highlighting such growing judicial scrutiny.

Toward Rights-Based Financial Regulation

Although the Paris Agreement legally binds only States, many financial institutions make voluntary net-zero pledges aligned with its goals. Yet without mandatory disclosure, these commitments risk being mere signalling. For instance, BNP Paribas’s ongoing fossil fuel financing demonstrates how voluntary approaches fall short.

Rights-respecting financial regulation would require, at minimum, the European Central Bank’s “double materiality” principle, acknowledging that impacts on people and planet are equally material as impacts on profit. More ambitiously, we must ask: Should financial institutions bear responsibility not only for their direct emissions but for the foreseeable human rights impacts of their financing decisions? When banks finance fossil fuel expansion knowing the IPCC has declared such expansion incompatible with liveable temperatures, is this not knowing complicity in rights violations?

Conclusion

The fundamental question remains: Will we continue allowing financial institutions to profit from activities that systematically undermine human rights, or will we finally demand that banks recognize their unique power—and therefore responsibility—in either enabling or preventing climate catastrophe? The voluntary framework suggests an answer that should trouble anyone concerned with human rights in our warming world.

The Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case deals with the structural racial discrimination that was suffered by Neusa dos Santos Nascimento and Gisele Ana Ferreira Gomes in the recruitment process and labour relations at a medical insurance company in the state of São Paulo. The IACtHR condemns the Brazilian State but is innovative in requiring that Brazil adopts legislative, political and administrative measures to guide corporations to implement actions to prevent acts of discrimination in their personnel recruitment processes. The Inter-American Commission of Human Rights (IACHR) also requested the Brazilian State to adopt legislative measures and public policies to guide corporations in the implementation of human rights due diligence. Therefore, the Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case evidences an important shift in the IACtHR’s lenses towards BHR through the adoption of judgments directed to the furtherance of corporate responsibility, indirectly shaping corporate’s actions towards human rights through public policies.

Previously, in the Fireworks Factory case, in matters referring to BHR, the IACtHR in condemning the Brazilian State only required it to present a report on the application of its National Guidelines on Business and Human Rights. Both cases are embedded in the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGP) and condemns the structural racism present in Brazil, revealing an important dialogue between the Inter-American System and the United Nations’ framework on BHR in the judgement of crimes of racism.

The Da Silva case concerned the murder of Manoel Luiz da Silva, a member of the Brazil’s Landless Workers’ Movement (MST), by private security agents of a rural farm in the state of Paraíba. The only reference to BHR in the Da Silva judgment is a cross-reference to the IACHR’s recommendation that the Brazilian State recognize and promote the UNGP to guarantee the protection of peasants and investigate crimes committed by private agents in rural areas [para 110, f. 114]. In contrast, both Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case and Fireworks Factory case refer to human rights violations in regard to industrial or urban contexts.

Even though the Fireworks Factory in Santo Antônio de Jesus was located in a rural area, it was a case of clandestine industrial production. On the contrary, the Da Silva case refers to human rights violations against rural workers and concerns a private security corporation. Neither the UNGP nor the Voluntary Principles on Security and Human Rights were mobilized in the legal analysis promoted in the IACtHR’s judgement in the Da Silva case.

Even though the judgment of the Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case evidences an important development of the IACtHR’s approach towards BHR, the Da Silva case’s minor focus on the theme brings up a question over the extent of the IACtHR’s interpretation of BHR’s frameworks in its own case law. The Da Silva case could have been an opportunity to the IACtHR develop its own interpretation over human rights violations committed by private security corporations and, especially, concerning the BHR agenda over land rights and rural conflicts in the Americas.

The centrality of the IACtHR’s BHR lenses over urban and industrial contexts represents a methodological limitation that must be disrupted by the urgent requirement of rights requested by peasants and rural workers in Brazil. The UNGP should be in dialogue with the international human rights treaties in this cause. On the other side, the Santos Nascimento and Ferreira Gomes case is an important opportunity in the strengthening of Brazilian legislative measures in the promotion of corporate human rights due diligence as a framework to businesses fight against racism.

Hunger, homelessness, cancer caused by factory fumes, lives erased by climate-supercharged storms: these fates rarely make the war crimes docket, yet are just as deadly—and avoidable. To confront these acts, we need to call them for what they are: everyday atrocities. Human rights law treats economic, social, cultural, civil and political rights as indivisible, yet international criminal law has largely cordoned off the word “atrocity” for armed conflicts. International criminal law has thus downgraded slow-burn disasters created by government and corporate choices that disregard the rights of others (see, for example, Shabas on atrocity crimes here). When armed conflict-related cruelty qualifies as shocking, lead-laden water and environmental losses are filed under unfortunate, but acceptable externalities. The result is a double standard that has normalized suffering inflicted by powerful actors and corporations.

Courts have so far pursued only the most overt, violent manifestations, leaving many long-term and structural everyday atrocities unaddressed. Too often, governments and businesses are not merely negligent but deliberately adopt policies that exploit regulatory loopholes, harm the public, and prioritize return to investors over the rights of other human beings.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau envisioned a social contract based on the common good, recognizing rights, duties, and mutual protections. This means an “equilibrium” where rights are not boundless, nor are they commodities that can be freely bought or expanded with economic power. Rousseau reminds us of checks and balances: your freedom ends where another’s begins.

Everyday atrocities breed combustible inequality; when abused communities finally reach their breaking point, unrest follows. Rousseau reminded us that the rights of the wealthy and powerful have limits within a social contract. Neither corporations nor governments can expand their rights to infringe on others’ well-being, and neither can place profit above the common good of others. Governments and businesses must treat the rule of law, including the respect for human rights, as part of their fiduciary duty. Directors of companies can maximize returns for shareholders only after they have respected the rule of law, including the human rights of others.

Human rights cannot be a fig leaf after dividends; it must be the precondition for doing business. We can keep pretending that profit and principle are separate ledgers, with the increase in death tolls from climate change and pollution a monthly occurrence. The global community must reconsider its economic approach.

The problem lies with the neoclassical fixation on “profit-maximization” that disregards damages inflicted on entire communities. Profit maximization itself need not be the problem; maximizing profit by off-loading costs onto others is. We shrug off harms and “unfreedoms” to others as collateral damage for a robust economy that works for some, but ordinary taxpayers ultimately foot the bill through soaring healthcare costs and environmental remediation, while corporations that caused the damage walk away with the profits.

If “atrocity” is only reserved for bullets and bombs, we excuse “profit maximization” that kills by slower means. To restore the balance between economic growth and collective well-being and build a Human Rights Economy, we must recognize human rights guardrails in our legal, political and economic systems. Our systems must treat any profit that depends on avoidable suffering as illegitimate — and finally put an end to everyday atrocities.

The UNGPs refer to human rights in two rather different ways: as applicable law and as the content of “global standard of expected conduct” (see UNGP 23(a), the difference between “comply” with applicable laws and “respect”). To lean on expectations (soft law) instead of consent (hard law) afforded the UNGPs an unrestrained application. Accordingly, the UNGPs address corporations irrespective of size (UNGP 14), place of operation, time, and most importantly, irrespective of the law where they operate.

For the UNGPs, businesses’ responsibility is justified on social expectation,  and the referral to the international bill of rights (in UNGP 12) is rooted in their use as “benchmarks against which other social actors judge the human rights impacts of companies”  (A/HRC/8/5, para. 58, similarly A/HRC/11/13, para 53). That expectation was preferred over other justifications, was partly due to the policy nature of the mandate, but also due to the goal of the project not to create new international legal obligations, and instead provide guidance and elaborate on the implications of existing standards (A/HRC/23/32/Add.2, para. 2). But what happens when HRDD gets translated into actual domestic law? Does the concept of a “global standard of expected conduct” remain necessary or should other legal justifications take its place?

The concept of “global standard of expected conduct” (UNGP 11) has the merits of avoiding the debate of the recognition of TNCs as having international legal personality A/HRC/4/35/Add.2, para. 11). More importantly, it avoids narrowing HRDD only for the rights protected by the home or host State (A/HRC/11/13, para. 46). But if translated into domestic law, it might miss the opportunity of asserting that such responsibility stems not from the expectations of society but from the nature of human rights themselves.

There are many legal alternatives to the use of social expectations. To provide two examples, it could be said that rights recognized but not created by treaties create a correlative obligation, chiefly but not exclusively for other actors, like States or corporations (to use Hohfeld’s structure, YLJ, 1913). Or that, similarly, there is a correspondence between treaty obligations and human rights. In other words, those human rights would have certain subsequent implications following the logic of the benefit theory of rights (see e.g. Hart, 1982, p. 172). In both cases, mandatory HRDD would be grounded on human rights themselves, and not on what society expects, which ultimately can change over time. Moreover, the idea of rights and correlative obligations (for corporations) would avoid the debate of the personality of corporations under international law, precisely because the rationale would operate in domestic law where corporations’ personality is uncontested.

It is largely understandable that the SRSG was trying to avoid the mistakes reflected in its immediate successor (the Norms on Transnational Corporations) that justified its mandate (A/HRC/17/31, para. 2). The concept of standard of expected conduct seemed a good alternative for problematic legal justifications of the corporate responsibility to respect human rights. However, now that domestic legislatures introduce mandatory HRDD laws (as the transposition of the CSDDD, Article 37), that problem disappears and there is room to explore alternatives, such as HRDD stemming not from social expectations but from human rights themselves. Legislators will have to decide whether to endorse the rationale of the UNGPs or to fit it with other legal justifications when passing mandatory HRDD laws.