Who are you to tell others what to do? What authority do you have over them? And what gives you the right to claim possession of the truth?
These are the very questions the English philosopher John Stuart Mill sought to answer. In On Liberty, one of his most famous essays, he outlined the modern principles of freedom. What is liberty? Why does it matter? Why should we defend it?
Mill argued that individual liberty is paramount, and the only justification for restricting someone’s freedom is to prevent harm to others.
But liberty is not absolute. A person may believe he has the right to protest in the streets—but what if his demonstration blocks the road just as you’re rushing your pregnant wife to the hospital?
This is where responsibility comes into play. Rights are not solitary privileges; they exist in relation to others. Freedom is a two-way street. You can’t “yuck” someone else’s “yum”—because by that same logic, they have the right to “yuck” yours.
If I love vanilla ice cream, I can advocate for it. I can make a podcast, buy ads, or start a campaign about its superiority—but I can’t force you to like it.
Another way to look at this concept, which is reflected in cultures around the world, is the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” It’s very simple, don’t do things that will be annoying if it also happens to you.
This concept of rights is not intuitive nor natural. It’s obvious from the fact that for thousands of years, slavery was legal. Any invading army could do whatever they wanted to the territory they took. There was no such thing as the Geneva Convention; anything went in war.
Until a hundred years ago, we realized it’s probably bad to use too much cruelty on civilians and soldiers who are obviously injured and no longer able to fight. The concept of rights has changed over time and it encompasses more and more. Even animals and trees have rights now.
We know that for the most part, the industrialized economies of the world has brought much prosperity to a great number of people worldwide. We realized that having a good life can be determined by countable metrics such as electricity generation, fuel consumption, steel production, length of paved roads, access to universal healthcare, access to internet, availability of clean water, and many others.
I would argue human rights and the enforcement of law is a necessary component of the modern state that is intertwined with the advancement that has been brought by mass industrializaton. You can’t really be called “prosperous” and having a good life without rights. And as we’ve seen, any rights is someone else’s responsibility.
Take a look for example the rights that are enshrined in the Bill of Rights (the first ten amendments to the US constitution):
- Freedom of Speech, Religion, Press, Assembly, and Petition - Protects the rights to free expression, religious practice, a free press, peaceful assembly, and petitioning the government.
- Right to Bear Arms - Grants the right to keep and bear arms.
- No Quartering of Soldiers - Prohibits forcing citizens to house soldiers in peacetime without consent.
- Protection Against Unreasonable Searches and Seizures - Safeguards against unwarranted searches and requires probable cause for warrants.
- Rights of the Accused - Ensures due process, protection against self-incrimination, and no double jeopardy; also guarantees just compensation for seized property.
- Right to a Fair Trial - Provides the right to a speedy, public trial by jury, with legal counsel and the ability to confront witnesses.
- Right to a Jury Trial in Civil Cases - Guarantees a jury trial for certain civil disputes.
- Protection Against Cruel and Unusual Punishment - Prohibits excessive bail, fines, and cruel or unusual punishment.
- Rights Retained by the People - Affirms that rights not listed in the Constitution still belong to the people.
- Powers Reserved to the States - Reserves powers not delegated to the federal government for the states or the people.
Any modern state, at least in principle, have some from of these rights on their constitution or body of law. Even if the implementation is not effective, it is usually accepted for example, that people can protest on the street, or have a fair trial.
So why did we come up with this? Why did humanity, after millennia of tyranny, conquest, and unchecked power, decide that rights matter? The answer lies in both practicality and morality—two forces that, over time, converged to reshape how we live together.
Historically, societies without rights were volatile. Power ruled, but it was fragile. Kings and warlords could dominate, but their reigns often ended in rebellion or betrayal. People tolerated oppression only until they couldn’t. The absence of rights didn’t just harm the powerless—it destabilized the powerful too. Rights emerged as a kind of social contract: a way to balance individual desires with collective stability. They’re a recognition that unchecked freedom for one person often means misery for another. If I can enslave you today, someone stronger can enslave me tomorrow. Rights, in a sense, are a shield we built against our own chaos.
But it’s not just about pragmatism. There’s a moral awakening here too. Over time, we started asking: What makes a life worth living? Is it enough to survive, or do we need dignity, agency, a voice? Philosophers like Mill didn’t invent these ideas out of thin air—they distilled what people were already feeling. The Enlightenment, the rise of literacy, the spread of ideas through printing presses and later technologies—all these helped us see that every person has an inner world as real as our own. If I wouldn’t want my speech silenced or my home invaded, why should I tolerate it for you? The Golden Rule isn’t just a nice saying; it’s a logical conclusion of empathy.
So why did we realize these rights are important? Because we learned—slowly, painfully—that societies thrive when people aren’t crushed. Look at the metrics of progress again: electricity, roads, clean water. Those don’t happen in a vacuum. They require cooperation, innovation, and trust. You don’t get that when people live in fear of arbitrary punishment or censorship. Rights aren’t a luxury; they’re a foundation. A farmer won’t invest in his land if soldiers can seize it. A scientist won’t share her discoveries if she’s gagged. Rights unlock human potential, and that potential fuels everything else.
But why should anyone adhere to these values? That’s the harder question. Rights sound great on paper, but they’re inconvenient in practice. It’s tempting to silence the guy who disagrees with you or to punish the criminal without a trial. Adhering to rights takes discipline—sometimes even sacrifice. So why bother?
First, because it’s in your self-interest. If you trample someone else’s rights, you weaken the system that protects yours.
Second, because it’s reciprocal. You don’t get to demand free speech if you’re shutting down your neighbor’s.
And third, because it’s bigger than you. Rights aren’t just about what you can get away with today—they’re about what kind of world you leave behind. A world where might makes right is a world where no one’s safe for long.
This isn’t to say the system’s perfect. Rights clash. Free speech can wound, protests can disrupt, trials can fail. And not every society agrees on what rights matter most—some prioritize community over the individual, others the reverse. But the core idea holds: liberty, tempered by responsibility, is the best shot we’ve got at a life that’s both free and fair. We came up with it because we had to. We realized it’s important because it works. And we should adhere to it because, in the end, it’s the closest we’ve come to answering those opening questions:
Who are you to tell others what to do? No one—unless they’re harming someone else. What authority do you have? Only what we’ve agreed to share. And what gives you the right to claim the truth? Nothing—except the freedom to argue for it, and the duty to hear others out.
A lot of people have yet to understand this. The collective rights enshrined in our constitutions—whether it’s the Bill of Rights or similar principles elsewhere—aren’t just abstract rules. They’re there to protect us, to ensure that every one of us has the chance to live our best lives. They’re a promise we make to each other: I’ll respect your freedom, your dignity, your quirks, so that mine are respected too. It’s not about limiting us—it’s about lifting us all up.
But things unravel when someone, or a group of people, starts treating anyone else as if those rights don’t apply to them. When you’re not seen as a human being—with goals, dreams, a favorite movie, a favorite food—all hell breaks loose. Rights matter because the society we’ve built, this peace we enjoy, is only possible when we treat each other as humans. The moment we stop, chaos creeps in—then misery, hatred, violence. We don’t want that. That’s not good.
Peace isn’t inevitable. We’ve worked really, really hard for it. Some call it the “long peace” now, and you could even say it took something as extreme as nuclear weapons to make us think twice about wiping each other out. That’s what it took to pacify humans—knowing we could go extinct if we didn’t figure this out.
Discrimination in job offers, banning a group from building their house of worship, racism, slurs based on race—these aren’t just petty slights. They’re not okay. Because if we let them slide, we’re chipping away at the very thing that keeps this whole fragile, beautiful mess of a society standing.