I was a human rights lawyer for 20 years, I believed those values

In the solemn and stirring words of Keir Starmer, we hear both sorrow and resolve: “I was a human rights lawyer for 20 years, I believed those values of dignity, equality and non-discrimination were a given. I believed the only question in my lifetime would be—how much further do we extend those values? I did not think in my lifetime we'd actually be having an argument about those values.” In these words, there is the heartbreak of a man who has seen the moral foundations of his world tremble. For Starmer does not speak as a politician alone, but as one who once believed in the steady progress of humanity, only to discover that even the brightest lights of civilization can flicker. His lament is a call to remembrance—a plea to guard what generations before us fought and bled to secure: dignity, equality, and non-discrimination, the sacred trinity of human worth.

To understand the meaning of this quote, we must first recognize its tone—not one of despair, but of awakening. Starmer speaks for all who once believed that the battle for human rights had been won, that the march of progress was irreversible. For decades, the world seemed to move steadily toward compassion and fairness; slavery was abolished, women gained suffrage, apartheid fell, and equality before the law became a principle enshrined in nations across the globe. And yet, in his lifetime—and ours—these principles, once thought eternal, have come under attack. Discrimination re-emerges under new disguises; hate speech grows bold again; nations turn inward; compassion is treated as weakness. Starmer’s astonishment is the astonishment of every soul who believed that humanity had finally learned to honor its own reflection.

The origin of these words lies in Starmer’s long years as a human rights lawyer, where he stood in defense of the voiceless and the vulnerable. For two decades, he labored under the belief that the moral compass of society pointed steadily toward justice. He saw laws written to defend equality and treaties forged to protect the oppressed. And yet, as the world shifted—through populism, division, and fear—he witnessed a tragic regression: a return to arguments once thought buried in the grave of history. His quote captures the shock of witnessing moral certainty decay into moral confusion. He believed that the great question of his age would be expansion—how to make the circle of dignity larger, how to include more people in the promise of equality. Instead, he finds himself defending the circle itself from being erased.

This awakening echoes through the corridors of history. Consider the story of Eleanor Roosevelt, who helped craft the Universal Declaration of Human Rights after the horrors of World War II. She and her contemporaries believed that humanity had finally learned the cost of hate and the necessity of universal dignity. They believed the world had turned a page, that never again would cruelty be permitted to rule in daylight. Yet, decades later, we see nations retreat into nationalism, minorities persecuted anew, and truth itself twisted by power. Just as Starmer laments, so too might Roosevelt have wept to see her vision questioned once more. For history, it seems, does not move in straight lines—it circles back upon itself, testing whether humanity has learned or merely remembered.

But beneath Starmer’s sorrow lies also a challenge, one deeply heroic in its call. His words remind us that values are not eternal by default—they endure only through vigilance. Dignity, equality, and non-discrimination are not relics to be displayed, but living fires to be tended. Each generation must rekindle them, for each generation faces its own winds of ignorance and fear. It is not enough to inherit justice; we must choose it again and again. Starmer’s lament becomes our summons—to defend the self-evident truths that should never again be debated, and to resist those who profit by dividing the human family.

There is wisdom, too, in the humility of his realization. He reminds us that progress is never guaranteed. The belief that the moral arc of history inevitably bends toward justice is a comforting illusion; in truth, it bends only when countless hands pull it. When we grow complacent, believing that goodness will sustain itself, we leave the field open for cruelty to return. Freedom, as the ancients taught, must be guarded, or it withers. And so too with human rights—they are not static victories, but living struggles. Each insult ignored, each injustice tolerated, erodes the foundation upon which civilization stands.

The lesson Starmer offers is both simple and eternal: never take humanity’s decency for granted. Teach your children the meaning of equality, not as a word but as a way of seeing. Defend the stranger, even when it is unpopular; speak truth when it trembles upon your tongue. Remember that non-discrimination is not the absence of hate—it is the presence of compassion. And above all, understand that dignity is not a privilege granted by governments or laws, but the birthright of every living being.

Therefore, let these words be carried as a warning and a vow: we must not argue the worth of dignity, equality, and compassion—we must live them. The time for complacency is past; the work of defending the human soul begins anew with every dawn. Keir Starmer’s lament is not a cry of defeat, but a clarion for vigilance, a reminder that the heart of civilization beats only as long as there are those willing to stand watch over it. So let us stand—steadfast, humble, and unyielding—guardians of those sacred values, until the day comes when humanity no longer forgets what it means to be truly human.