In today’s political landscape, lawmaking often feels like theater—dramatic, polarizing, and driven more by headlines than principle; making statements rather than governing. Whether banning books, restricting gender-affirming care, or redrawing the lines of public education, recent legislation in the U.S. has taken on the tone of moral verdicts. Behind these policies lies an unsettling question: When lawmakers invoke “what’s right,” whose morality are they enforcing—and at what cost?
In my Modern Philosophies of Law course, we’ve been exploring what makes law legitimate, not just legal. John Finnis, a towering figure in contemporary natural law theory, offers a lens through which these laws can be evaluated—not just legally, but morally. Ironically enough, his philosophy may not support the very legislation that often claims to be inspired by his framework. His work in natural law theory cuts through the noise by asking a deceptively simple question: Does this law promote human flourishing?
In his Natural Law and Natural Rights, Finnis argues that legitimate laws are rooted in the pursuit of seven basic goods—life, knowledge, play, aesthetic experience, sociability, practical reasonableness, and religion. Laws, according to Finnis, derive their legitimacy not from mere enactment, but from their orientation toward these goods and their capacity to foster human flourishing. Opposing natural law theory, legal positivists (such as H.L.A Hart) would normally argue that law may be described in terms of its sources—such as enactments of legislation and court decisions—without reference to its value. To a positivist, a law that is unjust is still a law provided that it meets demands of validity in a system of law. Finnis argues that this does not say what is most important about law. Instead of reducing law to a social fact, he argues that we should evaluate legal systems according to how well they fulfill their basic function. The best legal systems, Finnis says, mold human behavior in a way that aligns with practical reason and the common good. This evaluative framework becomes especially pertinent in assessing contemporary legal controversies.
Take, for example, recent bans on gender-affirming care for transgender youth. Proponents often appeal to the protection of children or the preservation of traditional values. But a Finnisian analysis would demand more than rhetoric. Do these laws serve the basic goods? Do they promote sociability, practical reasonableness, or knowledge? Or do they instead suppress autonomy, obstruct access to medical knowledge, and damage social trust?
Similarly, legislative pushes to remove books from classrooms or libraries—especially books discussing race, gender, or LGBTQ+ identities—seem at odds with Finnis’s commitment to the good of knowledge. These bans do not foster an informed and reflective society. They shrink it. And if law is to be moral, it must promote—not restrict—the flourishing of diverse perspectives and experiences.
Many of today’s most controversial laws are procedurally valid—they pass through legislatures, are signed by governors, and survive judicial scrutiny. But Finnis reminds us that legality and legitimacy are not the same. A law can be valid and still fail to be good. And when lawmakers invoke morality to justify policies that suppress human dignity or restrict fundamental goods, the result is not just bad policy. It’s ugly lawmaking—legal form without moral substance. In outlining his seven elements of basic human goodness, he notably omits adherence to the law, suggesting that the rule of law is not inherently or universally equated with moral good.
The law is meant to be a moral enterprise, meant to guide human behavior toward the flourishing of individuals and the community. But when that aim is lost—when law becomes a weapon rather than a guide—we move further away from justice, even if we remain within the bounds of legal form. The law must serve more than the interests of the loudest or the most ideologically entrenched. It must serve the good—or else, we risk being left only with the law and the ugly.
