Conventional Wisdom on Human Rights and Social Movements

Most studies on human rights activism explore the role of transnational movements and NGOs in leading naming-and-shaming campaigns (Hafner-Burton Reference Hafner-Burton2013; Keck and Sikkink Reference Keck and Sikkink1998; Risse, Ropp, and Sikkink Reference Risse, Ropp and Sikkink2013; Tarrow Reference Tarrow2005). In transnational movements, such as the boomerang model, the local actors initiate resistance against their states but rely heavily on support from transnationally connected civil society organizations for their global reach and expertise in human rights law to hold abusing governments accountable (Keck and Sikkink Reference Keck and Sikkink1998). A second wave of research has shifted attention to “pro-compliance” groups that operate at the domestic level, including civil society actors, judges, lawyers, and politicians (Alter Reference Alter2014; Bernardi Reference Bernardi and Engstrom2019; Hillebrecht Reference Hillebrecht2014; Huneeus Reference Huneeus, Alter, Helfer and Madsen2018; Simmons Reference Simmons2009). Ratified international treaties “increase the likelihood of success” for compliance-minded actors, enabling them to advocate for their agenda through parliaments, courts, or naming-and-shaming campaigns (Simmons Reference Simmons2009). The civil society actors in this second model, however, consist of NGOs, human rights practitioners, and lawyers, rather than grassroots activists directly experiencing the violations. Hence this scholarship provides little insight into whether and how human rights institutions empower victims to become advocates for their own causes through local social movements.Footnote ²

In contrast to NGOs or interest groups, social movements typically operate through noninstitutional channels and engage in contentious action, such as demonstrations, protests, and strikes, rather than regular interactions with the state (Snow, Soule, and Kriesi Reference Snow, Soule, Kriesi, Snow, Soule and Kriesi2008; Tarrow Reference Tarrow[1994] 2011).Footnote ³ These movements rally diverse groups and depend less on experts and technocrats to advocate for political change. Yet scholars disagree on the impact of human rights law and institutions on social movements. Comparative case studies on gender, sexual orientation, and minority groups suggest that human rights laws and norms can become cultural drivers of mobilization. They can facilitate collective action by helping victims to recognize their experiences as human rights violations, construct a collective identity based on these rights, and recruit new members by raising awareness of the issue (Chua Reference Chua2020; Merry Reference Merry2006; Tsutsui Reference Tsutsui2017). This symbolic power of human rights on activists is crucial, as collective identity, awareness, motivation, and discourse are essential for building social movements (Armstrong and Bernstein Reference Armstrong and Bernstein2008; Benford and Snow Reference Benford and Snow2000; Polletta and Jasper Reference Polletta and Jasper2001). While this constructivist approach acknowledges that human rights can provide material resources and opportunities for social movements, it primarily emphasizes their influence on activists’ perceptions of their grievances and identities. As Tsutsui (Reference Tsutsui2017, 1091–92) notes, “the recurring pattern that emerges is that global human rights first transforms local actors’ movement actorhood, which concurrently shapes their goals and strategies, and then provides political opportunities to propel the movements into new activities.”

This optimistic view stands in stark contrast to the concerns raised by critical scholars, who argue that invoking human rights law and institutions can entangle movements in conventional politics, leading them to lose the radical edge that drives them to push for systemic changes (Baxi Reference Baxi2008; Corntassel Reference Corntassel2007; Moyn Reference Moyn2018; Rajagopal Reference Rajagopal2003; Savage and Smith Reference Savage and Smith2017). These critiques are particularly pronounced for groups advancing social and economic rights, such as trade union rights, where international human rights instruments typically establish only a minimal baseline and weak enforcement mechanisms (Alston and Goodman Reference Alston and Goodman2013). Human rights, these scholars suggest, have not only failed to challenge neoliberal policies that dismantled welfare programs and protections for trade unions (Moyn Reference Moyn2018; Savage and Smith Reference Savage and Smith2017), but have also provided a normative cover for their advancement (Brown Reference Brown2006; Whyte Reference Whyte2019). It is no surprise, according to this perspective, that neoliberalism and human rights ascended around the same time in the 1970s, as both prioritized individual liberties while leaving the settlement of distributive outcomes to politics or the market (Douzinas Reference Douzinas, Douzinas and Gearty2014).

Instrumental Mobilization of Human Rights

This study diverges from existing scholarship that locates the primary impact of international human rights law in social construction processes by proposing an alternative path through which international human rights frameworks can catalyze social movements. I argue that activists can capitalize on the opportunities and resources these frameworks provide without deriving the moral and symbolic meanings essential for building a social movement from them. In this instrumental approach to human rights, the pursuit of human rights is not motivated by their moral virtue but by the strategic openings and legitimating resources they offer to advance their cause. Mobilizing human rights norms and institutions enhances the external legitimacy of activists’ claims in the eyes of the general public and state actors, but they do not derive internal legitimacy from these norms. Instead, the cultural drivers of social movements—such as solidarity ties, collective identity, ideological commitments, and internal legitimacy—are defined by their preexisting moral commitments and worldviews. Thus, activists utilize human rights law and norms as a means to an end.

This disjuncture between the material and cultural drivers creates a duality between the on-stage and off-stage dimensions of activism, summarized in table 1. On-stage, activists engage in activities visible to external audiences, such as protests, marches, social media campaigns, litigation, and lobbying efforts. By framing their grievances as human rights abuses, they appeal to pro-compliance judges and political actors (Alter Reference Alter2014; Hillebrecht Reference Hillebrecht2014; Simmons Reference Simmons2009) and highlight gaps between states’ legal obligations and their practice (Goodman and Jinks Reference Goodman and Jinks2008; Simmons Reference Simmons2009). Rights language also provides resonant rhetoric for activists to present their cause in a favorable light and gain public sympathy. Off-stage refers to the private discussions and strategizing that occur behind the scenes during meetings among activists and their supporters. The absence of human rights rhetoric in this sphere, where activists are no longer performing for a public audience, indicates that these laws and norms do not penetrate into activists’ inner worlds or shape their identities. For labor activists, these commitments often center around class-based themes that precede their engagement with human rights.

Table 1

Typology of Social Movements’ Engagement with International Human Rights

This theorization echoes Goffman’s ([1956] Reference Goffman2007) “frontstage” and “backstage” concepts, which describe how individuals present themselves in their everyday lives when they are being observed versus when they are in private. However, while Goffman characterizes the backstage as a space removed from the scrutiny of others, the off-stage of human rights activism is a collective setting where activists can lower their guard and interact without the need to perform for an audience.Footnote ⁴ The intentionality in workers’ distinct behavior off-stage also bears similarities to Scott’s (Reference Scott2008, 4–5) description of “hidden transcripts” consisting of “offstage speeches, gestures, and practices that confirm, contradict, or inflect what appears in the public transcript.” At the same time, the objectives and the behavior of social movements demanding political change are distinct from the survival strategies developed by the slave laborers or serfs that Scott examines. Unlike “public transcripts,” the on-stage sphere is not one in which workers must conceal frustrations or grievances for fear of repercussions, nor do they need to avoid transgressive behavior. The contrast between the on-stage and off-stage of mobilization arises from workers’ strategies to attract greater attention to their cause from a broader audience, rather than from avoiding the ire of employers or state agents.

The interpretive labor of framing grievances is not evenly distributed within movements. Leadership, spokespersons, and legally connected activists typically shape the public-facing frames because their roles place them in frequent contact with courts, parliaments, media, and broader publics. Operating at the movement’s boundaries, their work involves not only representing the movement externally but also translating its demands into frames that resonate with wider audiences. Social movement scholars have long recognized this tactical element, defining framing as “conscious strategic efforts by groups of people to fashion shared understandings of the world and of themselves that legitimate and motivate collective action” (McAdam Reference McAdam, McAdam, McCarthy and Zald1996; see also Benford and Snow Reference Benford and Snow2000). Yet constructivists have critiqued this approach for neglecting the culturally embedded processes that shape framing and collective identity, often “in ways unrecognized by the actors themselves” (Goodwin and Jasper Reference Goodwin and Jasper1999; see also Steinberg Reference Steinberg1999). Instrumental mobilization shows how both dynamics can coexist. Movements can deploy one set of frames to motivate internal participation and another to gain public visibility and leverage. In contrast to contexts where intermediaries intentionally vernacularize human rights to instill rights-bearing subjectivities (Chua Reference Chua2020; Merry Reference Merry2006; Tsutsui Reference Tsutsui2017), here leadership curates rights frames that carry persuasive force for public audiences, while internal cohesion rests on preexisting ideological foundations.

The pragmatism in framing does not reduce activists’ behavior to a pure logic of consequences guided solely by rational cost-benefit calculations (March and Olsen Reference March and Olsen1998). Even when actors use shared values insincerely in a communicative setting, norms still define which arguments are considered legitimate in political communities (Checkel Reference Checkel2001; Schimmelfennig Reference Schimmelfennig2001).Footnote ⁵ The decision to adopt human rights language is deliberate and intentional, yet it is situated in a context where human rights have become the socially and morally appropriate idiom—or as Moyn (Reference Moyn2018) put it, the “highest moral language”—to express social justice claims. This model also differs from a realist or cynical approach to human rights, the type of “legally parasitic” view against which Amartya Sen (Reference Sen2006, 2915) cautions. Clifford Bob’s (Reference Bob2005; Reference Bob2019) account of the “marketing” and “weaponization” of rights illustrates this perspective, where human rights language becomes a strategic resource for actors seeking attention or access in ways that risk overshadowing moral values with branding. In instrumental mobilization, the strategic deployment of human rights coexists with deep-seated ideological commitments grounded in the movements’ own histories.

This interpretive labor through which activists negotiate meanings of rights is more visible in sociolegal work (Lovell Reference Lovell2012; Matsuda Reference Matsuda1987; McCann Reference McCann1994; McCann and Lovell Reference McCann and Lovell2020; Merry Reference Merry2006). Comparative studies of legal mobilization show that activists often regard litigation as a last resort and express disillusionment with the limited nature of legal remedies and the half-hearted implementation of groundbreaking rulings (Gallagher Reference Gallagher2017; McCann Reference McCann1994; McCann and Lovell Reference McCann and Lovell2020; Schmidt Reference Schmidt2018). Consequently, even when activists pursue legal avenues to their fullest potential, they may resist adopting a rights-based identity (Lovell Reference Lovell2012) or exhibit a form of “double consciousness,” recognizing both the constraints of legal institutions and the strategic opportunities they provide (Matsuda Reference Matsuda1987; McCann Reference McCann1994).Footnote ⁶ This study contributes to this literature by demonstrating how such ambivalence can create a disconnect between the public and private dimensions of mobilization.

Conditions and Scope of Instrumental Mobilization

The insights on instrumental mobilization developed in this study are derived from a single case, but the conditions that led the blacklisted workers to adopt this approach are hardly unique to labor organizers in that setting. Below I identify the interrelated conditions that can create openings for instrumental mobilization to emerge. The goal here is not to claim generalizability in a statistical sense but to develop theoretically informed expectations for how other movements might engage with international law under comparable constraints.

First, the presence of intermediary actors—lawyers, advocacy networks, or other translators of international norms—is essential for making international law legible to activists and linking local struggles to global institutions (Chua Reference Chua2020; Merry Reference Merry2006; Merry and Stern Reference Merry and Stern2005). Without such brokers, activists are unlikely to be aware of any legal opportunities at the international level. Second, instrumental mobilization is most likely to occur among groups that have preexistent collective identities and moral or ideological commitments before their engagement with human rights law. Movements still in the process of forming their identity tend to be influenced by the unifying moral vocabulary of human rights (Chua Reference Chua2020; Merry Reference Merry2006; Tsutsui Reference Tsutsui2017); by contrast, established movements derive internal legitimacy from earlier solidarities and traditions of struggle and, therefore, are less susceptible to the identity-transforming effects of rights-based engagement.

Third, instrumental mobilization can only occur in a historical and political context where human rights are seen as a legitimate and authoritative idiom for expressing social justice claims. In the contemporary era, the malleable and indeterminate nature of human rights makes them adaptable to a wide array of causes (Dancy and Fariss Reference Dancy and Fariss2018; Johnson Reference Johnson2006; Tsutsui and Smith [2004] Reference Tsutsui, Smith, Snow, Soule, Kriesi and McCammon2018), allowing activists to counter stigmatizing portrayals, such as unions being cast as corrupt or militant, and reposition themselves as legitimate claimants before broader audiences. Despite the recent popular backlash against the institutions of human rights (Madsen et al. Reference Madsen, Mayoral, Strezhnev and Voeten2022; Voeten Reference Voeten2020), human rights discourses retain their popularity for reformist movements (Dancy and Fariss Reference Dancy and Fariss2023; Moyn Reference Moyn2018).

Finally, instrumental mobilization requires a measured skepticism toward legal institutions. Movements that have experienced limited protection or stalled reforms through legal channels are more likely to approach human rights pragmatically rather than normatively. Such distrust becomes politically productive when international institutions offer real opportunities to advance movement goals through legal remedies, reputational leverage, or alliance building. Yet if skepticism turns into cynicism and activists see no plausible way for international institutions to influence state behavior, engagement becomes unlikely altogether. In contexts where international institutions lack authority or credibility, or in highly repressive settings where the cost of mobilization is severe, activists are unlikely to mobilize human rights, instrumentally or otherwise (Ritter and Conrad Reference Ritter and Conrad2016; Simmons Reference Simmons2009).

Methodology

This study develops the theory of instrumental mobilization through an in-depth examination of the Blacklist Support Group (BSG), a workers’ movement in the UK. The UK offers particularly favorable conditions for examining how international human rights law might spur mobilization. It has a robust network of human rights lawyers and advocacy groups, providing grassroots activists with vital access to expertise in human rights issues. Additionally, because the UK is subject to the jurisdiction of the ECtHR, activists have strong incentives to employ human rights law and language in their campaigns. The court has prompted significant policy reforms across member states (Grewal and Voeten Reference Grewal and Voeten2015; Helfer and Voeten Reference Helfer and Voeten2014; Stiansen Reference Stiansen2019), and the UK has one of the highest rates of compliance, even while publicly criticizing the institution and periodically threatening withdrawal.Footnote ⁷

Yet even in this relatively positive institutional environment, workers have compelling reasons to be skeptical of the capacity of human rights law to deliver meaningful change. States commonly implement ECtHR rulings through minimal reforms (Búzás Reference Búzás2018; Von Staden Reference von Staden2018), fueling doubts about the court’s effectiveness. Skepticism among workers is further reinforced by the historically marginal position of socioeconomic rights within international human rights frameworks (Alston and Goodman Reference Alston and Goodman2013) and by the legacy of British trade unionism, which has long relied on rank-and-file mobilization rather than domestic or international litigation (Brown et al. Reference Brown, Deakin, Nash and Oxenbridge2000). The BSG therefore provides a deviant case: human rights mobilization emerged despite activists’ limited faith in legal remedies and without reshaping the movement’s foundational solidarities.Footnote ⁸ These conditions provide analytical leverage for identifying how international human rights institutions can activate social movements even when they do not transform the worldviews and identities that sustain collective action.

This in-depth focus on a single case study allows for a close examination of the mechanisms that mobilize activists into action. As Bateson (Reference Bateson2025, 252) points out, such an approach helps us to “understand the worldviews and motivations of a group of people whose agency and beliefs are driving important policy outcomes.” To make sense of the on-stage and off-stage dimensions of BSG activism, I draw on qualitative data collected from 2010 through 2024, including participant observation, media analysis, social media analysis, parliamentary records, and interviews with activists and lawyers.Footnote ⁹

From 2013 to 2014, I conducted six months of participant observation, accompanying BSG activists to meetings, demonstrations, pub gatherings, dinners, and domestic court proceedings, while engaging in informal conversations throughout these events. Since I was often the only woman among a group of mostly white male worker-activists, my presence was always noticeable. Accustomed to being surveilled, activists asked questions to get to know me. Over time, however, my regular presence and small contributions to the group (such as helping with event setup) made me a familiar face. This immersion provided opportunities for me to observe how workers articulated their grievances, interacted with one another, praised fellow activists for their bravery, expressed frustration with legal proceedings, celebrated victories, and voiced anger toward blacklisting companies off-stage.Footnote ¹⁰ These observations helped to distinguish the performative aspects of their activism from their more candid discussions and strategizing that took place away from the public eye.

In addition to these interactions during participant observation, I conducted 34 formal interviews with BSG activists, trade union representatives, lawyers, and other human rights activists from 2013 to 2024. These interviews gave me insights into how activists and lawyers reflected on the remedies provided by courts and their own campaigns. I recognize the limitations inherent in using interviews, as they rely on participants’ verbal awareness, which might mask the unconscious influences on their behaviors, motivations, and identity formations (Jerolmack and Khan Reference Jerolmack and Khan2014; Vaisey Reference Vaisey2009). To address this, I triangulated interviews with other data sources, which enabled me to situate activists’ stated motivations and skepticism toward human rights frameworks within their broader mobilization practices. For example, in addition to asking activists about their thoughts on human rights institutions, I observed unprompted expressions of frustration and disappointment regarding adverse rulings.

Supplementing my fieldwork, I examined the BSG’s media narratives and social media to capture their public messages. My analysis of posts from the BSG’s Facebook page between 2010 and 2019 was particularly useful in identifying the differences in how prominent members of the BSG utilized human rights language compared with the rest of the group. To examine how the BSG activists presented themselves for the media, I analyzed coverage of the blacklisting scandal in the Guardian, focusing on both news articles and opinion pieces authored by BSG activists. This analysis aimed at understanding how the BSG constructed its public narrative and utilized the media as a platform to amplify its voice, rather than providing a general account of how the scandal was reported in the national newspapers. I chose the Guardian for its left-wing position, nationwide readership, and close tracking of developments related to blacklisting.Footnote ¹¹

The House of Commons minutes allowed me to examine the extent to which politicians invoked human rights language in their discussions of blacklisting.Footnote ¹² I also traced links between BSG’s lobbying efforts and parliamentary debates on trade union rights and blacklisting legislation. Finally, I reviewed official reports, media articles, and court cases (both domestic and international) to identify the major political developments, legal reforms, changes in political party agendas, and judicial rulings on blacklisting. Tracing these developments helped me to situate activist strategies within broader institutional and political changes and evaluate the effectiveness of workers’ mobilization efforts.

Because the data sources served different purposes, I used complementary strategies in analyzing them. For interview and participant observation materials, which were open ended, conversational, and context dependent, I employed an iterative, abductive coding process.Footnote ¹³ I began with open coding to identify emergent themes related to legal strategy, international institutions, political opportunities, and rights-based language. In the second stage, I developed a focused coding scheme to capture activists’ approaches to human rights institutions and norms. I defined the codes by tracing (1) explicit use of terms such as “human rights,” specific international institutions, or article-based language; (2) implicit appeals to fairness, dignity, or international norms; and (3) metacommentary about the effectiveness of international institutions or the limits of rights-based approaches. For documentary sources with more standardized language and larger volume—such as the BSG Facebook page, House of Commons debates, and Guardian articles—I used a deductive strategy. I systematically searched for explicit references to “human rights,” the ECtHR, the European Convention on Human Rights, and specific Convention articles. These searches made it possible for me to track how activists and political actors used rights discourse in their public representations.

Blacklisting in the UK Construction Industry

The BSG was established in 2009 following an investigation by the Information Commissioner’s Office (ICO), the UK’s data protection agency, which exposed a widespread blacklisting scandal in the British construction industry. The ICO investigation was prompted by an employment tribunal case involving three electricians who alleged that they were dismissed from their jobs and denied employment due to their trade union activities. Whistleblower testimony during the trials revealed that this issue extended beyond the three electricians, indicating an institutionalized system established to blacklist workers engaged in trade union activism throughout the construction sector.

The ICO’s investigation uncovered that construction companies had formed an organization called the Consulting Association to systematically collect data on workers across the industry, aiming to exclude workers labeled as “trouble-makers, criminal elements or other undesirable people” from employment (Department for Business, Innovation and Skills 2009, 10). The blacklist included information about over 3,200 individuals, with data collected from 44 construction companies. Additionally, legal proceedings following the ICO investigation revealed that intelligence from the Metropolitan Police’s Special Demonstration Squad,Footnote ¹⁴ including information gathered by undercover officers posing as trade union activists, was provided to the ICO regarding the political activities of these workers.

Although evidence of blacklisting in the construction industry has surfaced before, the government failed to implement measures to ban this practice. Throughout the twentieth century, employers and security services relied on the Economic League, a private intelligence organization that compiled dossiers on “subversive” and union-active workers and aided in political vetting, as well as business groups like Aims of Industry, which advanced a broader anti-union agenda that normalized such practices within the industry and politics (Hollingsworth and Norton-Taylor Reference Hollingsworth and Norton-Taylor1988; Mustchin Reference Mustchin2019). During the 1960s and 1970s at the height of union power, organized labor largely used collective bargaining and political channels to confront these pressure groups; international legal forums offered little leverage in comparison. Only as union strength eroded in the 1980s did labor actors begin to test international avenues.Footnote ¹⁵ In 1991, the Trades Union Congress (TUC), the largest trade union confederation in the UK, submitted a grievance to the Committee on Freedom of Association within the International Labour Organization (ILO) regarding blacklisting conducted by the Economic League. The ILO urged the British government to enact stronger legislation to protect workers from blacklisting; however, the Labour government under Tony Blair dismissed these concerns, pointing to the league’s dissolution in 1993 following media exposure. Shortly after its closure, however, construction companies proceeded to establish the Consulting Association and appointed the former head of the Economic League as its new president.

After the ICO exposure made headlines in the media in 2009, the government enacted new regulations on blacklisting, based on draft legislation that had failed to pass back in 1999. But these regulations contained many loopholes, including ambiguity surrounding the compensation award for blacklisted workers, a lack of procedures for the destruction of the blacklist, and, crucially, the inability to bring criminal charges against those responsible for blacklisting (Ewing Reference Ewing2009). For example, a civil suit brought against Ian Kerr, the head of the Consulting Association, resulted in a mere £5,000 fine, which was ultimately paid by the construction companies (Ewing Reference Ewing2009). In response, the blacklisted workers formed the BSG, uniting around three key demands: legal reform to classify blacklisting as a criminal offense, retribution for blacklisted workers, and blacklisting the blacklisters by denying public sector contracts to the companies engaged in blacklisting.

Leveraging International Human Rights Law: Pathways to Justice for Blacklisted Workers

The persistence of blacklisting, despite its public exposure and formal recognition by the state, pushed labor activists and lawyers to explore alternative avenues for redress at the international level. The potential of these international channels had been visible since the early 1990s, when the ILO called on the UK government to prohibit blacklisting and protect workers’ rights. But earlier recourse to the ILO had limited appeal, given its weak enforcement authority and the long-standing unwillingness of UK governments to reform labor practices in response to its findings (Kahraman Reference Kahraman2023).

Momentum shifted only when the ECtHR began to offer a more authoritative judicial pathway. Initially established as a court focused on civil and political rights, the ECtHR dismissed the few labor rights claims that were brought before it in the first four decades of its existence. However, in the early 2000s, the court began to integrate fundamental trade union rights into its jurisprudence. By 2010, the court had recognized basic trade union rights as human rights and established obligations for states to protect these rights. For instance, it ruled that states must take measures to prevent employers from dismissing workers who participate in strike actionFootnote ¹⁶ and from coercing workers into relinquishing their union membership by offering more attractive contracts.Footnote ¹⁷ At the same time, British labor lawyers gained experience in how to take winning cases to the ECtHR. The coordination of trade union rights cases was led by Keith Ewing, a legal scholar and expert on labor law, and Lord Hendy KC, a prominent barrister specializing in trade union rights. Together, they established the Institute for Employment Rights to disseminate their expertise in domestic and international labor law to trade unions and workers.

Shortly after the blacklisting scandal erupted, a construction union commissioned Ewing to prepare a report wherein he identified the weaknesses in Britain’s domestic laws and emphasized its legal obligations toward blacklisted workers under international human rights law, including the ILO and the ECtHR (Ewing Reference Ewing2009). Specifically, the report outlined the grounds on which a blacklisted worker could bring a case before the ECtHR. In addition to highlighting the need for reform in current legislation, Ewing (Reference Ewing2009, 13) cited a previous ECtHR case that had led to the establishment of a retroactive compensation scheme for workers, suggesting that a similar scheme could be implemented for blacklisted workers. Thus, the report not only announced the potential for individual benefits for affected workers but also signaled the possibility of legal reform on blacklisting based on international human rights law.

Protections under human rights law created two significant legal opportunities for workers. First, guided by their lawyers, workers initiated a class action suit against the blacklisting companies at the High Court. A substantial portion of the plaintiffs’ legal argumentation centered on how blacklisting violated the UK’s obligations under international law, particularly Article 8 and Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights. Second, two blacklisted workers who lost their cases in domestic courts escalated their claims to the ECtHR: the first was filed in 2011,Footnote ¹⁸ and the second was filed in 2015.Footnote ¹⁹

A Deliberate Decision: Adopting Human Rights Language

The BSG’s engagement with international human rights law facilitated the incorporation of human rights language into their public campaigns. The knowledge of human rights law was conveyed to the workers by the lawyers who were committed to representing their clients’ interests while also advancing the labor case.Footnote ²⁰ Dave Smith, the secretary of the BSG, first found out about the applicability of international human rights to blacklisting when he read Ewing’s report, which outlined a clear litigation strategy for blacklisted workers at the international level. The report sparked a moment of clarity, as he thought, “Now we know what to do.”Footnote ²¹ Ongoing lawsuits in domestic courts created occasions for other blacklisted workers to learn more about human rights law and have encounters with lawyers. In particular, the class action suit at the High Court became a significant recruitment tool for the blacklisted workers’ movement. The BSG activists reached out to previously blacklisted workers, many of whom had moved to different sectors, to inform them about the new evidence and invite them to join the case. Eventually, hundreds of workers joined the group litigation. After each hearing, blacklisted workers met at a nearby pub, the Seven Stars, to debrief and discuss the next steps. Lawyers often attended the beginning of these meetings to update workers on developments regarding their ongoing case as well as the ECtHR cases. As an applicant in one of the ECtHR cases, Smith developed a close relationship with the lawyers, gaining deep knowledge of international human rights law.

The BSG leadership made a deliberate decision to integrate human rights language in their campaigns. But the strategic nature of this choice was not simply a matter of selecting a discursive frame from a range of options. Instead, their decision-making process was deeply influenced by the political and historical context of British workers’ activism since the 1980s. Organized labor in the UK has a long history of resolving its disputes through contention and mobilization, and workers identified strongly with that legacy. As one trade union activist explained,

Thus, for the BSG, it was important to engage in grassroots mobilization and not just delegate its problems to domestic or international courts. At the same time, trade unions’ power had stagnated since the onset of neoliberal policies in the 1980s, and restoring trade union rights had not been a priority of the government, even under Labour’s leadership.Footnote ²³ To mount pressure on the government, the workers needed to present themselves in a sympathetic light. The BSG leadership was aware that class-based language was no longer a resonant frame to reach the general audience. As BSG Secretary Smith put it, “I can get ten blacklisted workers who can all bang on the table and moan about how terrible big business is, and how we need to fight out, you know.”Footnote ²⁴ But he knew that “the newspapers aren’t interested in that. They are interested in human rights violations at Crossrail,” referencing the fact that in 2007, employers at London’s major railway project at Crossrail consulted the Consulting Association’s blacklist more than nine hundred times (Boffey Reference Boffey2012).

One might question whether human rights language can continue to be effective amid the growing backlash against international institutions in the UK. Public opinion regarding the ECtHR has been declining since the 2000s and the Conservative Party has advocated for the repeal of the Human Rights Act, which incorporates the European Convention and the ECtHR rulings into the domestic legal framework. Unlike many other international courts, the ECtHR is frequently mentioned in the British media, albeit with widespread misconceptions about its role and functions (Dinas and Gonzalez‐Ocantos Reference Dinas and Gonzalez‐Ocantos2021; Jay Reference Jay2022). Leaving the ECtHR system has been a prominent aspect of the Conservative agenda, even in the aftermath of Brexit and the subsequent political crisis. However, there is a distinction between the public legitimacy of human rights norms and institutions. While politicians and media critics may oppose the authority of an international court on issues such as deportation or voting rights of prisoners, such opposition does not necessarily equate to a wholesale rejection of human rights. For example, even as the government proposed the repeal of the Human Rights Act, it suggested replacing it with a British bill of rights, indicating that their opposition was more about the court’s authority over national sovereignty than a disagreement about the legitimacy of human rights per se. Hence, human rights norms can retain significant moral weight and continue to serve as powerful frameworks for advocacy.

The contentious nature of human rights has also created opportunities for activists to engage in this polarizing debate, aligning themselves with pro–human rights groups and positioning themselves as advocates for human rights.Footnote ²⁵ For instance, in a post on the BSG’s Facebook page, Smith referenced the two pending cases at the ECtHR to call on workers to oppose the government’s plans to repeal the Human Rights Act: “UK employment law does not protect blacklisted construction workers—mainly because none of us were directly employed by the multinational companies that orchestrated the blacklisting against us. DEFEND THE HUMAN RIGHTS ACT.”Footnote ²⁶ Moreover, as noted earlier, the UK has a high compliance rate with ECtHR rulings. Even in cases where the government drags its feet, it ultimately complies with these rulings, albeit begrudgingly (Hillebrecht Reference Hillebrecht2014). Consequently, activists have reasons to believe that claiming their rights as human rights could enhance the external legitimacy of their cause.

Blacklisted Workers’ Movement On-Stage

Along with their litigation efforts, the BSG launched a public campaign that framed the blacklisting scandal as a human rights abuse. Human rights became a prominent theme in their on-stage mobilization, shaping workers’ protests, media narratives, social media campaigns, and political advocacy.

The initial point of pressure against the blacklisting firms and the government was the group litigation at the High Court. Inside the courtroom, lawyers representing the blacklisted workers consistently reminded the judges of the government’s obligations under the ECtHR’s established case law on trade union rights and the ILO conventions. Outside the courtroom, the BSG initiated a series of targeted protests to highlight the plight of the workers and the egregious nature of blacklisting. The legal language surrounding human rights from the court cases informed the framing of these activities. For example, the BSG organized a protest tour titled “Crocodile Tears,” designed to spotlight the insincerity of the apologies issued by blacklisting companies following the ICO investigation and shame the blacklisters. Workers, accompanied by a crocodile mascot, held protests outside the blacklisting companies, and chanted slogans including “Blacklisters come clean” and “Nuremberg defense on blacklisting won’t wash,” a reference to the defense used by Nazi soldiers who said that they were just following orders during the Nuremberg trials after World War II. This reference to the Nuremberg trials and the allusion to blacklisting in Nazi Germany were included in a submission made by Liberty, a pro-union legal advocacy organization, to the ECtHR in support of the blacklisted workers.

To broaden their movement and reach, the BSG also teamed up with other human rights activists. Among these, the Campaign Opposing Police Surveillance (COPS) became one of the movement’s biggest allies since its inception. The ICO investigation revealed that the blacklist extended beyond construction workers to include journalists, academics, and other activists, raising serious concerns about police involvement. Further investigations confirmed that the Metropolitan Police had established the Special Demonstration Squad to monitor leftist groups by presenting themselves as trade union members or activists, with some officers forming intimate relationships with the activists they surveilled (Evans Reference Evans2020). Consequently, COPS aimed to expose the extent of police surveillance and seek justice. Together, COPS and the BSG organized demonstrations, panels, and briefings with a consistent emphasis on human rights. One notable event organized by the BSG and supported by COPS was called the “citizens’ arrest.” As the blacklisted workers could not bring criminal charges against the blacklisters, activists staged symbolic arrests of the managers involved in blacklisting at the offices of blacklisting companies. The “arrest warrants” they issued against the blacklisters and held up during their demonstrations cited a breach of Article 11 of the European Convention.

The BSG activists also utilized social media to advocate for their cause, making explicit references to the UK’s obligations under international law and employing human rights language broadly. At High Court hearings, which attracted significant gatherings of applicants, supporters, and reporters, BSG activists posted live updates from their lawyers’ oral submissions to the court, highlighting how blacklisting violated international laws. During one such hearing, an activist posted a comment on the BSG Facebook page regarding how their lawyer defended their rights by referring to the European Convention:

In addition to these informative posts, they relayed personal experiences using human rights language. For example, Greig McArthur, a prominent BSG activist, shared the following:

While media coverage of blacklisting did not uniformly adopt a human rights framework, blacklisted workers consistently framed their grievances as human rights violations during media appearances. My analysis of articles in the Guardian shows that only 14 out of 74 articles on blacklisting from 2011 to 2019 made references to human rights. Notably, almost all of the 14 articles were either op-eds written by the BSG activists themselves or news pieces featuring quotes from them.Footnote ²⁹ For example, one BSG activist is quoted in a news article:

Steve Acheson, chairman of the BSG, echoed this sentiment, stating, “Until such time that the full conspiracy is exposed and those responsible for the human rights abuse are called to account in a court of law, we will never stop fighting” (quoted in Evans Reference Evans2016, emphasis added). The human rights framing was particularly pronounced in the op-eds. For instance, the headline of an op-ed written by Dave Smith (Reference Smith2013) read, “Blacklisting Activists Is a Human Rights Scandal. An Inquiry Is Overdue” (emphasis added). Another article featured a new book on blacklisting by Dave Smith and Phil Chamberlain, a journalist from the Guardian, and was titled “New Book Puts Spotlight on Role of Covert Police in Human Rights Controversy” (Evans Reference Evans2015, emphasis added).

Political supporters of the BSG similarly adopted human rights language to advocate for legal reforms on blacklisting. The BSG activists most closely engaged with the Labour Party, where they cultivated relationships with sympathetic lawmakers, as well as the Scottish National Party. Since the inception of the BSG, Labour members of parliament (MPs), including party leaders, have attended BSG meetings, High Court hearings, and mass demonstrations. For example, John McDonnell, the shadow chancellor under Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn, chaired the meeting that launched the BSG in 2009 and is considered a founding member. My analysis of discussions regarding blacklisting in the House of Commons from 2009 to 2020 indicates that the BSG’s human rights framing was mirrored in parliamentary debates, particularly in the speeches given by Labour MPs. For example, one MP highlighted the severity of the issue by stating, “Denial of the most basic of human rights—the right to work and provide for your family—by the same companies that have grown rich on lucrative public sector contracts is a shameful act and an abuse of power.”Footnote ³⁰ Another MP noted, “Blacklisting, as many honorable Members have said, is arguably the worst human rights abuse against workers in the UK since the war.”Footnote ³¹ Labour MPs have also introduced two motions on blacklisting referencing human rights. One of them urged the House to join “calls by the Blacklisting Support Group and other campaigners for a full public inquiry into this human rights injustice.”Footnote ³² Beyond these discursive frames, Labour MPs regularly invoked both the ILO and the European Convention to push for pro-union legislation concerning employment relations and police surveillance.Footnote ³³

Blacklisted Workers’ Movement Off-Stage

Despite utilizing these sources to gain external legitimacy for their grievances, my fieldwork data indicate that human rights law and language did not become sources of internal legitimacy within the blacklisted workers’ movement. Human rights did not create bonds of cohesion among the workers, and they largely refrained from adopting human rights language or identity off-stage. This contrast between public and private discourse is particularly evident in my participant observation data. During posttrial pub gatherings, informal conversations, or internal meetings, blacklisted workers hardly ever referred to human rights law or language. They articulated the legal entanglements that many agency workers faced—specifically, the challenges of not having direct employment relationships with blacklisting companies—and their frustrations with the unions for not doing enough or not “owning up” to the complicity of union representatives in blacklisting without any references to human rights.Footnote ³⁴ Although prior scholarship notes that collective action frames are inherently contested and can spur internal disputes over their meaning and effectiveness (Benford and Snow Reference Benford and Snow2000), in this case, the coexistence of class-based internal narratives and human-rights-based public narratives proved complementary: working-class identity continued to sustain internal solidarity while human rights language was used strategically to appeal to external political resonance.

In off-stage discussions, themes of working-class identity and class solidarity prevailed, overshadowing any focus on human rights. Blacklisted workers viewed the injustices they encountered in the workplace as a direct consequence of the disproportionate power held by employers, which motivated them to join the movement. BSG activists frequently emphasized class-based narratives to articulate their anger toward the blacklisters and their accomplices, as well as to rally fellow blacklisted workers for collective action. For instance, following a High Court hearing, one activist remarked on their precarious conditions, “We are the precariat … we have no job security … we work on zero-hour contracts.”Footnote ³⁵ In conversations with other workers, they similarly voiced frustrations about the years spent struggling to provide for their children or having to “fix somebody else’s kitchen” after being blacklisted, as well as their demands to see blacklisters “behind bars” without any mention of human rights.Footnote ³⁶

The intentional use of human rights on-stage becomes clear when we pay closer attention to who makes these references. The BSG activists in leadership positions—those more likely to make media appearances and shape the collective discourse—were much more inclined to present blacklisting as a human rights issue, whereas others are less likely to articulate their grievances using human rights language. In my analysis of the BSG’s Facebook group from 2010 to 2019, I identified 294 entries that made references to human rights. An overwhelming majority of these entries were posted by Dave Smith, who is one of the administrators of the Facebook group.Footnote ³⁷ Following him, six other prominent BSG members, involved in organizing campaigns and events, made between six to 15 posts with human rights references. For example, Lee James Fowler and Royston Bentham, also administrators of the Facebook group, posted eight and seven such entries, respectively.Footnote ³⁸ There were 48 other individuals who posted one or two entries with references to human rights, often intertwining human rights references with traditional working-class identity narratives.Footnote ³⁹

Rather than identifying as “human rights activists,” blacklisted workers often described themselves as “socialists” in Facebook posts. For instance, they wrote, “We are ENTITLED to a socialist Labour party to give us real hope and not false promises and accusations like management and Tories do,”Footnote ⁴⁰ “[D]etermined more than ever at the age of 71 to fight for a socialist Britain,”Footnote ⁴¹ or “[A]s a socialist.”Footnote ⁴² During internal meetings and on Facebook, BSG activists praised those who faced victimization, whether through being dismissed or arrested, for their participation in risky trade union action by referring to them as “working-class heroes.” In response to a post about a blacklisted worker’s file containing information from his phone calls and activities as an elected union representative, BSG activists expressed solidarity by pointing out that “he has done more work fighting for and organizing our class” by “fighting against capitalism and in favour of his class,” and drew a contrast between themselves and the blacklisters by referring to the latter as “sneaky little spies,” “bosses,” and “big business.”Footnote ⁴³

Human rights did not provide a source of motivation for blacklisted workers to seek redemption or to join the movement either. During a posttrial pub gathering, while I was discussing the usefulness of human rights law with Dave Smith, another blacklisted worker interjected by reminding us about Helen Steel, a close ally of the BSG and a prominent environmental activist who had been subjected to an intimate relationship with an undercover police officer under false pretenses. He remarked, “It’s not about logic or law; it’s about emotions and morals. Like what happened to Helen, it’s not just illegal, but it’s immoral.”Footnote ⁴⁴ This distinction he makes between law and morals underscores how the workers perceive human rights as a tool, rather than as an idiom for expressing their moral outrage about being blacklisted and spied on.

This perspective was shared by other activists who emphasized that while litigation efforts contribute to the visibility of the BSG, the true priority was rank-and-file mobilization.Footnote ⁴⁵ Smith also reiterated this view, stating, “The law is useful, but in and of itself, it’s not going to win you stuff.”Footnote ⁴⁶ Referring to his pending ECtHR case at the time, he added, “Even if we win, what’s going to happen? I’m going to get a few thousand pounds. […]Footnote ⁴⁷ You’re better off going on, and actually trying to mobilize your members—get[ting] your members to stick together is what makes the difference.” At the same time, as an organizer, Smith acknowledged that class politics and socialism no longer resonate with the general public as they once did. Recognizing the utility of human rights discourse, he exhibited a clear instrumental approach: “And do I quote human rights? When I think it’s going to make it more likely to get people to come on our side.”

The Effectiveness and Endurance of the Instrumental Mobilization of Human Rights

There are several ways in which we can assess the efficacy of mobilizing human rights in the blacklisted workers’ movement. At the international level, the two blacklisted workers, in the cases Brough v. the United Kingdom Footnote ⁴⁸ and Smith v. the United Kingdom,Footnote ⁴⁹ ultimately lost their appeals at the ECtHR. But the court’s dismissal was primarily based on procedural grounds, including the time limits and the availability of domestic remedies. Notably, the ECtHR acknowledged the group litigation at the High Court, suggesting that domestic courts were adequately addressing the workers’ claims, and left the resolution to be handled at the domestic level.Footnote ⁵⁰ Thus, the court’s reasoning does not preclude the possibility that a future case on blacklisting may be deemed to constitute a breach of workers’ right to association under Article 11.

Despite these setbacks, BSG activists achieved significant progress in three key areas at the domestic level. First, they made headway in their objective of blacklisting the blacklisting companies. The Scottish Affairs Committee (2015) produced the first parliamentary report on the issue, advocating for the exclusion of blacklisting firms from publicly funded work. As a result, the Scottish government barred these firms from public contracts, with similar actions taken by the Welsh government and other local authorities. Additionally, under Corbyn’s leadership, the Labour Party established new ethical guidelines to prevent Labour-run councils from contracting with blacklisting firms.

Second, the BSG achieved a notable victory at the High Court, where the lawyers repeatedly referenced international laws. In a settlement reached out of court, the blacklisting companies publicly apologized and agreed to pay multimillion-pound compensation to more than 250 affected workers. Following this settlement, Unite the Union initiated another group litigation against the blacklisting firms, ultimately requiring these companies to pay approximately £35 million to over 1,200 blacklisted workers.

Third, in 2015, the government responded to the BSG’s demand for transparency regarding blacklisting by initiating a public inquiry into police surveillance of political campaigners. The BSG welcomed this as a significant advancement in their campaign, as the blacklisted workers were granted core participant status in the inquiry. In their testimonies to the committee, the BSG continued to use human rights language to underscore the severity of the violations they experienced and highlighted the government’s obligations under Article 11 of the European Convention (D. Smith Reference Smith2020). The first phase of the inquiry, which examined the period from 1968 to 1982, concluded that undercover police officers spied on left-wing groups, including trade unions, and deemed the activities of the Metropolitan Police’s Special Demonstration Squad illegal (Undercover Policing Inquiry 2023, 96). The inquiry is ongoing for subsequent phases. While these accomplishments are significant for the BSG, they do not mark the conclusion of the workers’ struggle. The blacklisting companies have faced financial repercussions and investigations into covert police operations are underway, but the BSG continues to advocate for stronger preventive measures against future violations.

To be sure, it is not possible to conclude that BSG’s mobilization of human rights was the sole or primary reason behind these achievements. Success of legal mobilization campaigns depends on a confluence of factors, such as the receptiveness of political actors and the judiciary to activists’ demands, the organizational strength of the movement, and the material and legal resources available to activists, among others (Arrington Reference Arrington2019; McCann Reference McCann1994; Tarrow Reference Tarrow[1994] 2011). But given the prominence of human rights framing in its public and legal efforts, it helped to position the movement to pursue, and ultimately achieve, key advancements that may otherwise have been out of reach.

Finally, beyond concrete gains, the success of a movement can be evaluated by the enduring structures, aspirations, frames, and tactics it leaves behind for future activists (McCann and Lovell Reference McCann and Lovell2020). Activists can create collective interpretations of the causes of their problems and potential solutions (Benford and Snow Reference Benford and Snow2000), which may inspire the repertoires and visions of later movements. However, the blacklisted workers’ instrumental approach to human rights suggests that their ties to human rights may be fleeting. Two conditions could facilitate workers’ embrace of this language on-stage and off-stage. First, they would need to continue to receive favorable rulings from human rights institutions, though this seems unlikely in the near future. Recent studies suggest that the ECtHR’s inadmissibility rulings on blacklisted workers’ cases reflect a broader trend of the court exercising more restraint in issuing pro-worker judgments in trade union rights cases (Kahraman Reference Kahraman2026). Though the court has not reversed any of its pro-union rulings, evidence suggests that the court is reluctant to expand its union rights jurisprudence into new issue areas. This trend may reflect the court’s response to political backlash from member-states, especially from the liberal democracies (Helfer and Voeten Reference Helfer and Voeten2020; Madsen Reference Madsen2018). Second, for workers to start identifying themselves as human rights activists, they would need to continue their collaborations with other human rights groups. Socializing, collaborating, and mobilizing with other human rights activists on a regular basis would likely foster solidarity ties and new forms of collective identity formations around human rights (Arrington Reference Arrington2019; McCann Reference McCann1994; Polletta and Jasper Reference Polletta and Jasper2001).