Should the Law Protect Us from Ourselves? The Case of Smoking, Vaping, and Beyond

By Tanisha Zaman

I’m Tanisha Zaman - you may not know me (and I’d be genuinely flattered if you do). I won’t go into a full rundown of my background, experience, or admittedly brilliant sense of humour, but what I will say is that lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the uneasy relationship between law, health, and choice.

This all started when I wrote a research paper from 2024-2025 called A Breath of Fresh Air: A Smoke-Free Future - commissioned by the London Tobacco Alliance, NHS London, and Partnership for Young London. It explores how policy - specifically the UK Tobacco and Vapes Bill - aims to tackle smoking and vaping among young people, supported by interview-based research with leading figures in tobacco reduction, including local politicians, healthcare professionals, and doctors.

At just 19, I found myself being cited by doctors at Brunel University and interviewed by journalists from Times Radio, City News, and other media personnel’s, and it was at this time that I was asked a deceptively simple question: how far should the state go in protecting us from ourselves?

It’s a question that sits right at the intersection of law and moral philosophy, and one that our courts, Parliament, and even local councils constantly wrestle with.

The Logic of Paternalism

When we talk about laws designed to protect people from harm, we often think of criminal offences or public-safety measures - speed limits, workplace regulations, or bans on dangerous substances, i.e. laws protecting one individual from the actions of another. But there’s a more controversial category of intervention known as paternalism - the idea that the state can restrict an individual’s freedom for their own good.

Think of it like a legal version of “I’m doing this because I care about you.” Classic examples include mandatory seatbelts, limits on alcohol advertising, or the UK’s recent proposal to create a “smoke-free generation” by raising the legal age of tobacco sales every year.

The moral tension is clear: should adults be free to make unhealthy choices, or does the government have a duty to prevent them from harm - even self-inflicted harm?

Philosophers from John Stuart Mill to Joel Feinberg have grappled with this. Mill famously wrote in On Liberty that “over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.” To him, coercion was justified only to prevent harm to others, not to save individuals from themselves. Yet, in practice, even liberal democracies like the UK constantly flirt with paternalism.

The Smoke-Free Generation and Modern Paternalism

The UK government’s smoking age ban proposal is a fascinating test case. It essentially phases out tobacco sales entirely by ensuring that anyone born after 2009 will never be able to buy cigarettes legally. On paper, it’s a public-health triumph - a decisive move to prevent the next generation from becoming addicted to nicotine. Perhaps, for once, some credit is due to the Conservative government.

But critics argue it’s paternalism in its purest form: a permanent, state-imposed decision about personal health that removes choice altogether. It’s not just telling you smoking is bad; it’s making sure you can never legally do it.

When I conducted my research for A Breath of Fresh Air: A Smoke Free Future, I found that the most effective policies were those that balanced autonomy and protection - reducing harm without erasing agency. Young people I interviewed spoke less about the right to smoke and more about the right to accurate information, affordable cessation tools, and social environments that didn’t normalise nicotine use.

In other words, they wanted empowerment, not prohibition.

The law’s challenge, then, is to find a middle ground - one that acknowledges human frailty without infantilising citizens.

Vaping: A Case Study in Unintended Consequences

Enter the vaping debate. Initially marketed as a harm-reduction tool to help traditional cigarette smokers quit, e-cigarettes have become a cultural and policy headache. We’re now seeing a rise in youth vaping - a behaviour that wasn’t even on policymakers’ radar a decade ago.

Legally, vaping regulation exposes how reactive health law can be. The UK’s current agenda restricts nicotine content and advertising, but enforcement struggles to keep up with new disposable devices flooding the market. If it does not end up birthing a massive new black market, the blanket ban on vapes might protect young people, but could also push adult smokers back to cigarettes - a perverse outcome for a law meant to improve health.

This dilemma captures the essence of soft versus hard paternalism.

Soft paternalism - like plain packaging, health warnings, or education campaigns - nudges people toward healthier choices while preserving autonomy.

Hard paternalism - outright bans or legal prohibitions - assumes individuals cannot make those choices responsibly.

Both approaches have their place, but the balance must be carefully struck.

Beyond Smoking: Where Do We Draw the Line?

The logic of paternalism does not stop with tobacco. Once the state decides it can restrict one form of risky behaviour, where does it end? Should we legislate against high-sugar drinks to tackle obesity? Impose limits on alcohol units? Regulate social-media usage for mental health reasons?

These debates all share the same philosophical DNA. Each time the law steps in to “protect” us, it also reshapes the boundaries of personal liberty. Public-health law, therefore, becomes a mirror for society’s values - revealing what we consider rational, responsible, or deserving of protection.

There’s also a social-justice angle. Many health harms are structurally determined - shaped by poverty, education, and environment rather than pure choice. A ban might reduce visible harm, but it won’t dismantle the structural inequalities that sustain it. If the law truly aims to protect, it must go beyond prohibition and address the conditions that make harmful behaviours appealing in the first place.

So, Should the Law Protect Us from Ourselves?

Maybe - but only if it does so with us, not to us.

The law shouldn’t be a moral guardian hovering over our every choice. It should be a framework that enables people to live healthily, informed and empowered, not coerced and constrained.

My experience researching smoke-free policies taught me that the most enduring health improvements come from cultural shifts, not just statutory bans.

Paternalistic laws might save lives, but they risk eroding trust. In a democracy, the power to protect must coexist with the right to choose - even when those choices aren’t perfect.

So perhaps the question isn’t whether the law should protect us from ourselves, but how it can protect us without diminishing who we are: autonomous, imperfect and, ultimately, human.

Edit by Artyom Timofeev