"Those rights, then, which God and nature have established, and are therefore called natural rights, such as life and liberty, need not the aid of human laws to be more effectually invested in every man than they are; neither do they receive any additional strength when declared by the municipal laws to be inviolate. On the contrary, no human legislature has power to abridge or destroy them, unless the owner shall himself commit some act that amounts to a forfeiture"
About this Quote
Blackstone pulls off a jurist's magic trick: he makes an audacious political claim sound like a mere description of reality. Natural rights, he insists, do not need "the aid of human laws" to exist, and they gain no extra muscle from being declared "inviolate" by municipal statutes. It's a move that flatters the law by shrinking it. Courts and legislatures become custodians, not creators. The rhetorical payoff is legitimacy: if life and liberty precede government, then government is always on probation.
The subtext is a quiet threat aimed at the state. By framing rights as "established" by God and nature, Blackstone relocates authority beyond Parliament's reach. This is not democratic romanticism; it's institutional discipline. He's sketching a boundary line for legal power at a time when English constitutional thinking was negotiating sovereignty, property, and the limits of Crown and legislature. Natural rights language offered a moral vocabulary that could travel where precedent sometimes couldn't.
Yet he leaves an escape hatch: rights can be lost through "forfeiture". That's the contractual logic underwriting much 18th-century liberal thought. Your rights are inherent, but not unconditional; the system can strip them if you breach its terms. It's both protective and coercive. The quote works because it turns a philosophical premise into a practical legal standard: the state may not abridge rights, except when it decides you've behaved in a way that justifies it. The tension is the point, and it still animates modern debates over due process, punishment, and what counts as forfeiting liberty.
The subtext is a quiet threat aimed at the state. By framing rights as "established" by God and nature, Blackstone relocates authority beyond Parliament's reach. This is not democratic romanticism; it's institutional discipline. He's sketching a boundary line for legal power at a time when English constitutional thinking was negotiating sovereignty, property, and the limits of Crown and legislature. Natural rights language offered a moral vocabulary that could travel where precedent sometimes couldn't.
Yet he leaves an escape hatch: rights can be lost through "forfeiture". That's the contractual logic underwriting much 18th-century liberal thought. Your rights are inherent, but not unconditional; the system can strip them if you breach its terms. It's both protective and coercive. The quote works because it turns a philosophical premise into a practical legal standard: the state may not abridge rights, except when it decides you've behaved in a way that justifies it. The tension is the point, and it still animates modern debates over due process, punishment, and what counts as forfeiting liberty.
Quote Details
| Topic | Human Rights |
|---|---|
| Source | William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England (1765–1769), Book I, "Of the Rights of Persons" — passage on natural rights and forfeiture (public-domain original work). |
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