You didn't sign a contract when you were born. No one asked whether you agreed to pay taxes, follow traffic laws, or register for selective service. Yet most political philosophers insist you're obligated to do these things—not just because you'll face penalties, but because you genuinely owe it to your political community.

This raises an uncomfortable question: where does this obligation come from? If you never explicitly consented to your government's authority, why should you feel bound by anything more than prudent fear of punishment? Three major theories attempt to answer this, and each reveals something important about the invisible threads connecting you to the strangers who share your political community.

Gratitude theory makes a simple claim: you've received enormous benefits from your political community, and this creates a duty to give something back. The roads you drive on, the education you received, the security that lets you sleep without barricading your door—none of this appeared from nowhere. Other people built it, maintained it, and paid for it.

The philosopher A.D.M. Walker argued that gratitude isn't just a nice feeling—it generates genuine obligations. If a stranger saves your life, you owe them something, even though you never agreed to the rescue. Similarly, if a political community provides you with the conditions for a decent life, you owe that community your cooperation and support.

Critics point to an obvious problem: you never asked for these benefits. Can someone create an obligation for you simply by providing unsolicited services? If I mow your lawn without asking and then demand payment, you'd rightly refuse. But there's a difference between lawn care and the foundational conditions of social existence. You can't opt out of having grown up in a society that shaped who you are.

Takeaway

Receiving benefits you didn't request may still create obligations—especially when those benefits are so foundational that refusing them was never a real option.

Fair play theory shifts the focus from gratitude to justice. The argument runs like this: when people cooperate to produce mutual benefits, those who accept the benefits while refusing to bear the burdens are free-riders. They're taking advantage of others' sacrifices without contributing their share.

Imagine a neighborhood where everyone agrees to keep noise down after 10 PM. You enjoy the quiet every night. But one evening you decide to throw a loud party, reasoning that one exception won't matter. You've violated fair play—you've accepted the benefit of others' restraint while exempting yourself from the same burden.

H.L.A. Hart and John Rawls both defended versions of this argument. Political society is a massive cooperative scheme. Laws against theft protect your property; you're obligated to respect others' property in return. Tax systems fund public goods you use; you owe your contribution to that shared pool. The obligation isn't about gratitude—it's about not exploiting the cooperation of others.

Takeaway

If you accept the advantages of social cooperation, fairness demands you follow the rules that make those advantages possible—even rules you find inconvenient.

Associative theories take a different approach entirely. They argue that political obligation flows from membership itself—from being part of a political community in the same way that being part of a family creates obligations toward family members. You don't need a contract to owe something to your siblings.

The communitarian philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre argued that we inherit our identities from the communities that raise us. We don't choose our native language, our cultural frameworks, or the political traditions that shape our understanding of the world. These associations constitute who we are, and they come with obligations attached.

This view challenges the liberal assumption that all legitimate obligations must trace back to individual choice. Some obligations are simply given by the relationships we find ourselves in. A citizen of a democratic society has obligations to that democracy not because they signed up, but because democratic citizenship is part of their social identity. The question isn't whether you consented—it's whether you're genuinely a member.

Takeaway

Some obligations may not require consent because they flow from identities and relationships that precede individual choice—membership can be its own source of duty.

None of these theories is watertight. Gratitude can feel manipulative, fair play assumes you've truly benefited, and associative duties risk justifying oppressive communities. Yet each captures something real about why political obligation feels different from a mere threat.

Perhaps the deepest insight is that political obligation, like most obligations, resists simple formulas. It emerges from a tangle of benefits received, cooperation expected, and identities formed—none of which you fully chose, but all of which bind you nonetheless.