Rights rooted in heritage

By Herman M. Lagon

Some of the boldest truths in history came from the quietest voices. Buried under Babylonian soil, the Cyrus Cylinder declared that people deserved freedom to worship and to live without chains. Centuries later, the Mande Charter in Mali proclaimed that life is sacred, women matter in governance, and children deserve education. These are not relics for glass cases. They are proof that what we now call “human rights” are not modern inventions but ancient longings.

Our own story echoes the same struggle. Indigenous Lumads and Tumandoks defend their lands from mining much like the Kalash people in Pakistan’s Hindu Kush mountains protect their songs and rituals from erasure. The Kyrgyz of the Afghan Pamir adapt to survive yet guard their heritage—much like our fisherfolk balancing old ways of gleaning with global trade. Change without consent is not progress—it is disappearance. Real growth breathes only where people have a say.

Our history holds its own archive. Rizal wrote of education and dignity not as gifts from colonizers but as birthrights. The Malolos Constitution enshrined equality and religious freedom long before similar charters in Asia. These milestones remind us that rights here were not borrowed ideas. They were born from our soil, wrestled out of our struggles, woven into our DNA as a people.

Yet tension lingers. The Asian values debate argued that Western notions of rights lean too much on the individual and neglect the community. Samoa’s Fa’asamoa shows this: councils rooted in respect and service sometimes clash with personal freedoms. We see the same in our barangays—curfews, dress codes, restrictions—meant for order but raising questions about where common good ends and individual rights begin. The challenge is balance: ensuring that culture strengthens, not stifles, dignity.

This balance plays out in education. For many poor families, a child’s schooling is not just personal growth but a family duty, a collective investment. When scholarships or feeding programs honor this context, culture and rights reinforce each other. But when poverty forces children to leave school to work, duty turns into exploitation. Knowing when tradition enriches or undermines rights is where educators and communities must discern carefully.

History is also clear: leaders remembered most are those who served. Cyrus is admired not for conquest but for tolerance. The Mande Charter survived because it spoke of fairness. Here at home, Ramon Magsaysay and Jesse Robredo are remembered for listening to the poor, not for their titles. Even in classrooms, when a teacher buys chalk with her own money, she redefines leadership as service.

Still, rights must be defended again and again. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights was born after war, yet seven decades later we still see killings, displacement, and misinformation corroding dignity. A 2023 survey found almost half of Filipinos fear falling victim to violence. Numbers like these remind us that rights are never permanently secured. They must be taught, practiced, and protected every day.

Culture can either be bridge or barricade. When it excuses inequality, it blocks progress. But when it nurtures dignity, it builds peace. In Mindanao, communities rebuild schools together after conflict, drawing from bayanihan. This cultural trait strengthens the right to education and security. The key is not to pit rights against culture, but to find where they meet. That is the heart of Global Citizenship Education (GCED).

For ordinary people, rights are daily bread. For a jeepney driver, it is the right to livelihood and to be heard in decisions. For a mother displaced by floods, it is protection from corruption in relief work. For a student bullied online, it is freedom of expression without violence. These are not abstract debates. They are lived realities. Defending rights today is continuing the relay of care handed down by Cyrus, Sundiata of Mali, Rizal, and countless others.

Yet humility matters. Rights are not slogans to chant during rallies but spaces where people feel safe and dignified. In my years as a principal, I saw that respect and listening mattered more than quoting laws. Rights show up in classrooms without bullying, in jobs that pay fairly, and in councils where the poor are not ignored.

Defending rights is not easy. It asks us to speak even when it costs. Farmers resisting greedy landowners, teachers refusing to hide the truth, and workers demanding dignity all show that the defense of rights is everyone’s duty.

History proves this again and again. From Cyrus’s decree to Rizal’s writings, dignity lasted because communities fought for it. Global Citizenship Education is about joining that struggle, with small, persistent acts that keep justice alive.

***

Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.