In the opening chapter of The Idea of Human Rights (1998), Michael J. Perry poses the central question: Is the idea of human rights ineliminably religious? To frame the problem, Perry juxtaposes two epigraphs. R.H. Tawney insists that morality—and, by extension, human rights—requires belief in God: “The essence of morality is this: to believe that every human being is of infinite importance, and therefore that no consideration of expediency can justify the oppression of one by another. However, to believe in this, it is necessary to believe in God.”
In contrast, Ronald Dworkin claims “we almost all accept… that human life in all its forms is sacred. For some of us, this is a matter of religious faith; for others, of secular but deep philosophical belief” (Life’s Dominion). The tension between these two claims captures Perry’s central concern: whether the very idea of human rights presupposes religious conviction, or whether a secular foundation suffices.
Perry begins by clarifying what is meant by “human rights.” Drawing on foundational documents such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948), he emphasizes its appeal to “the inherent dignity… of all members of the human family.” Perry defines the idea of human rights as the conviction that: “there is something about each and every human being, simply by being a human being, that entails that certain things ought not to be done to him or her and that certain things ought to be done for him or her” (The Idea of Human Rights). Therefore, according to Perry, the idea of human rights presupposes a moral universalism: every person is owed duties and protections, irrespective of their circumstances.
This claim has deep philosophical roots. Immanuel Kant, in Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785), framed this principle as treating humanity “never merely as a means but always at the same time as an end” (§429). Contemporary philosophers like Jürgen Habermas argue that modern human rights discourse rests on the “equal worth of each individual” as the presupposition of communicative rationality (Between Facts and Norms, 1996). Perry would concur but also insists that the foundation of this moral status, the “sacredness” of the human person, remains contested.
Perry next turns to the meaning of “religious.” Etymologically, the Latin religare means “to bind together again that which was once bound, but has since been torn or broken; to heal.” Religion, according to Perry, is fundamentally about meaning and belonging. He cites Abraham Heschel: “Religion is a cry for ultimate relationship, ultimate belonging” (God in Search of Man). Perry’s own working definition of religion is “a set of beliefs about how one is or can be bound or connected to the world—to the ‘other’ and to ‘nature’—and, above all, to ultimate reality.” To call something “religious,” then, is to affirm the meaningfulness of existence and the interconnectedness of human life.
If human beings are described as “sacred,” Perry argues, this description is not value-neutral. It implies that human life is part of a reality of ultimate significance. “Sacredness,” whether expressed as divine image, inherent dignity, or ultimate worth, is the conceptual foundation of human rights.
Perry formalizes his argument as follows:
- Human beings are sacred, and this sacredness is the foundation of human rights.
- The idea of the sacred is ineliminably religious.
- Therefore, the idea of human rights is ineliminably religious.
The strength of this syllogism hinges on Premise Two. If one can show that sacredness can be grounded in secular terms, Perry’s conclusion is weakened. Much of his first chapter explores this debate.
Perry identifies two major secular strategies for grounding human rights without appeal to religious sacredness.
1. The Definitional Strategy. This strategy holds that from “a moral point of view,” we grant each person impartial and equal status. On this basis, certain things “ought not” to be done to individuals, and other things “ought” to be done. But Perry, echoing David Tracy’s famous “limit question” (“why be moral at all?”), argues that this strategy fails to ground the universality of rights. Without an ultimate account of why every person has equal worth, the definition risks becoming circular.
2. The Self-Regarding Strategy. Here, human rights are justified not by sacredness but by enlightened self-interest. It is in one’s own self-interest that everyone be treated with dignity, since reciprocity ensures one’s own protection. According to Perry, this is little more than a “non-aggression pact” and that framework cannot ground the universality of human rights: “It is unclear how such a strategy could be made to apply to every human being.” As John Rawls warned, a purely prudential contractarian approach risks collapsing into parochialism (A Theory of Justice).
Ronald Dworkin offers the most sophisticated secular rejoinder to Perry. In Life’s Dominion, Dworkin argues that “life itself is sacred” and that this sacredness may be understood in both religious and secular terms. For the secular believer, human life represents “the most intricate and remarkable product of the universe,” as well as the accumulated achievement of civilization. On this view, life inspires “awe” irrespective of theology. Dworkin thus contends that “for some of us, the sanctity of life is a matter of religious faith; for others, of secular but deep philosophical belief.”
For Perry, however, Dworkin’s argument is insufficient. If “sacredness” is merely a free-floating aesthetic preference, then it lacks the binding force needed to ground universal human rights. Awe is subjective; what inspires reverence in one person may inspire indifference in another. Perry concludes: “How do we get from ‘the universe is (or might be) nothing but a cosmic process bereft of ultimate meaning’ to ‘every human being is nonetheless sacred (in the strong objective sense)’? We don’t” (The Idea of Human Rights).
Perry’s conclusion is unequivocal: if the conviction that every human being is sacred is inescapably religious, then the idea of human rights is ineliminably religious. Therefore, the sacredness of humankind is not an optional gloss but the “essential, even foundational, constituent” of human rights.
This claim resonates with other scholars who have explored the theological roots of modern rights discourse. Charles Taylor has argued that the modern affirmation of universal dignity stems from the “Judeo-Christian affirmation of the equal worth of all souls” (Sources of the Self). Similarly, Nicholas Wolterstorff has contended that the idea of inherent rights emerges most clearly from the biblical vision of humans as created in the image of God (Justice: Rights and Wrongs, 2008). Perry situates himself in this tradition, insisting that however much secular thinkers attempt to detach human rights from religion, the grammar of sacredness remains tethered to religious conceptions of meaning and belonging.
Michael Perry’s opening argument in The Idea of Human Rights highlights one of the most enduring debates in contemporary political and moral philosophy: whether human rights can be sustained without a religious foundation. While secular strategies—from Kantian universalism to Dworkinian secular sacredness—offer important resources, Perry insists that the language of “sacredness” presupposes an ultimate horizon of meaning that is inescapably religious. If Perry is correct, then the modern human rights project rests on theological ground, even in a secular age. As debates about human dignity, rights, and pluralism continue, Perry’s provocation remains urgent: to ask not only whether human rights can survive without religion, but whether they ever truly existed apart from it.
