On November 7, 2025, the United States made headlines around the world for all the wrong reasons: it became only the second country in history to refuse participation in a mandatory United Nations review of its human rights record. The move, ordered by the Trump administration, left the U.S. seat conspicuously empty at the Human Rights Council’s Universal Periodic Review (UPR) session in Geneva, a scene that drew regret, criticism, and concern from allies and advocates alike, as reported by ABC and the Associated Press.
The UPR is no routine bureaucratic exercise. Established in 2006, it brings every UN member state before its peers every four to five years for a public examination of their human rights records. The process is designed to ensure that no country—no matter how powerful or prominent—can sidestep global scrutiny. Until now, every member state had eventually submitted to this process, with only Israel previously skipping its scheduled review in 2013 (but returning nine months later, according to council officials cited by ABC).
But this time, the United States did not budge. The Trump administration had announced as early as August 2025 that it would not attend, and by September, the decision was final: the U.S. would not participate in the November review. As the council president called for input from the U.S. delegation, the American seat remained vacant. “We were supposed to meet today in order to proceed with the review of the United States,” said Jurg Lauber, president of the UN Human Rights Council, as quoted by Al Jazeera. “Nevertheless, I note that the delegation of the United States is not present in this room.”
The absence did not go unnoticed. Council members from around the globe expressed regret and called upon the U.S. to return to the process. The review was ultimately postponed to November 2026, since, as the rules stipulate, such a review cannot take place without the participation of the country under examination. There is, as of now, no clear indication whether the Trump administration would agree to participate next year, according to the Associated Press.
For many, the U.S. absence was more than a diplomatic snub—it was a blow to the credibility of the entire UPR process. China’s representative accused Washington of showing a “lack of respect for the UPR mechanism,” while Cuba contended the U.S. was afraid of what greater oversight might reveal. The U.S. Department of State responded defiantly, stating, “As a founding member of the United Nations and primary champion of individual liberties, we will not be lectured about our human rights record by the likes of HRC (Human Rights Council) members such as Venezuela, China or Sudan.”
The Trump administration’s skepticism toward international oversight is well documented. Since its first term, the administration has depicted international cooperation as a burden that places the U.S. at a disadvantage, offering few tangible benefits in return. In 2018, the U.S. withdrew from the Human Rights Council, citing the body’s alleged anti-Israel bias and its refusal to enact reforms. The Biden administration later brought the U.S. back, but the Trump administration’s return to power in 2025 reversed that stance. President Trump issued an executive order in February 2025, once again pulling the U.S. out of the council, as reported by the Associated Press and Al Jazeera. Notably, even after the 2018 withdrawal, the U.S. continued to participate in the UPR process during Trump’s first term—a precedent that was broken this year.
Behind the diplomatic drama lies a deeper debate about the state of human rights in the United States. The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) was blunt in its assessment, arguing that the administration’s decision was “setting a dangerous example that will further weaken universal human rights at home and abroad.” Chandra Bhatnagar, executive director of the ACLU of Southern California, elaborated: “From the discrimination and violence inflicted in the ICE raids, to the attacks on free speech of protesters and journalists, to the deployment of the National Guard in American cities when no crisis exists, the world is watching the United States government attacking the constitutional and human rights of its own people.”
Human Rights Watch and hundreds of other U.S. and international organizations echoed these concerns in reports submitted to the UPR process. Their submissions detailed a litany of alleged violations: arbitrary detention, abusive treatment of immigrants, regression in sexual and reproductive rights, rollbacks on LGBT rights, systemic racial discrimination, and attacks on the rule of law. The UPR, they argue, is a rare chance for civil society groups to air these grievances on an international stage—especially important when, as some contend, domestic avenues for accountability are under threat.
The United Nations’ own human rights chief, Volker Türk, lamented what he described earlier this year as a “fundamental shift in direction” in the United States on human rights. And the Human Rights Council itself warned that continued non-cooperation by the U.S. could prompt “appropriate action” in the future, as reported by Human Rights Watch.
Some U.S. officials and supporters of the administration argue that international criticism is often politically motivated and that the U.S. should not be lectured by countries with poor rights records themselves. The Trump administration has, for instance, actively pushed back against what it sees as unfair scrutiny of allies like Israel, even going so far as to sanction UN officials and the International Criminal Court for their investigations of Israeli actions in Gaza and the occupied Palestinian territories, according to Al Jazeera.
Yet, for many observers, the symbolism of the U.S. boycott is hard to ignore. The U.S. has long styled itself as a global leader in human rights—a reputation built through decades of advocacy, treaty-making, and, yes, sometimes even self-criticism. That legacy, critics argue, is now at risk. “The U.S. government seems to think it is an exception and that the universal review process should not apply to it,” Human Rights Watch wrote. “But if it considers itself a rights-respecting government, international scrutiny aimed at improving the national human rights situation should be considered vital.”
As the council moved on to review Honduras and other countries, the absence of the United States hung over the proceedings like a cloud. The world, it seems, will have to wait until November 2026 to see whether the U.S. is willing to rejoin the process it once championed. For now, the empty chair in Geneva stands as a stark reminder of just how far the debate over human rights—and America’s place within it—has shifted.
