What Are We Actually Protecting? Why Rights, Justice, and Representation Shouldn’t Be Reserved for Citizens

The Values Behind the Rules

We live in a society governed by rules, formal laws, constitutional clauses, unspoken norms. They promise structure. They define boundaries. They tell us who belongs, who is protected, and who does not qualify. But too often, we defend the rules for their own sake, forgetting the deeper purpose they were meant to serve.

Rules are not sacred because they are written. They are meaningful only to the extent that they reflect and preserve our most essential values: justice, dignity, fairness, liberty. When we uphold a rule while abandoning the principle behind it, we are not acting with integrity. We are hiding behind bureaucracy.

This distinction matters.

Take the question of human rights. Ask a room full of Americans whether undocumented immigrants have rights, and you’ll hear conflicting answers. Some will gesture toward the Constitution. Others will cite citizenship. And many will simply say, “They don’t belong here, so they don’t have rights here.”

But that position is not just legally tenuous. It is morally hollow. The U.S. Constitution does not grant rights only to citizens. The Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments, among others, refer to persons, not citizens. That language is deliberate. It reflects a foundational truth: rights do not originate in government. Government exists to recognize and protect them. They stem not from national status, but from human dignity.

To argue otherwise is to reduce rights to privileges; conditional, transactional, revocable. But if a right is only available to the favored, it is no longer a right. It is an entitlement.

And this becomes even more urgent when we consider who is allowed a voice in shaping the rules themselves.

Who Counts as a Stakeholder?

The debate over non-citizen voting is often framed as a question of national identity or electoral integrity. But beneath the surface lies a more revealing question: Who lives with the consequences of our decisions? Who pays taxes, obeys laws, sends their children to public schools, rides public transportation, and contributes to the shared civic life of a community?

That is what it means to be a stakeholder. Democracy, at its most honest, is not defined by paperwork. It is defined by participation and impact.

If we believe in the legitimacy of self-governance, of consent by the governed, then the exclusion of those who are governed but voiceless becomes difficult to defend. The fear, of course, is that someone might belong without our permission. That they might already be part of the civic fabric, simply by the act of showing up, contributing, and remaining.

But if representation is a value, then it must apply to those who are affected, not only those who are documented.

Rules as Instruments, Not Idols

This is where the tension becomes clear. When we defend rules while abandoning the values they were meant to protect, we are not practicing civic virtue. We are practicing avoidance. It is easier to cling to the rigidity of a statute than to engage in the harder work of moral reasoning.

But integrity requires more than obedience. It requires remembering why a rule exists in the first place.

The irony is that those who most loudly defend the Constitution often do so in ways that betray its spirit. They speak of freedom while withholding it. They invoke order while ignoring justice. They mistake the scaffolding of law for the structure of moral truth.

If a rule no longer protects the vulnerable, serves the public good, or upholds the dignity of all persons, then defending it blindly is not patriotism. It is negligence.

The Deeper Choice

So we are left with a choice. Not between order and chaos. Not between citizen and outsider. But between a society governed by fear, exclusion, and technicalities, or one grounded in values that endure even when the circumstances change.

Following the rules is not inherently noble. What is noble is understanding what they were meant to preserve, and choosing to stand with that, even when the rule itself falters.

Because in the end, it is not the rules that define us. It is what we are willing to protect through them.

I’ve photographed people on both sides of protests, in public squares, on courthouse steps, and in the overlooked backstreets of small towns. And more than once, while framing a shot, I’ve caught myself asking a quieter question: Who gets a voice here? Who gets to belong?

This is what photography has taught me all along. That witnessing is only the beginning. Over time, the lens leads you somewhere else, not just toward better images, but toward deeper clarity. I’m learning that I’m not only an observer of the world, but an interpreter of it. And this, this question of who we protect, and why, deserves to be seen clearly.

So I’ll ask you this, gently: If values don’t apply to everyone, are they really values, or just privileges we’ve decided to protect?

Thank you for reading. If you would like to explore more in-depth content, I invite you to check out my book, "Wander Light: Notes on Carrying Less and Seeing More." It helps support this web page and enables me to continue providing you with more content. Get your copy here.