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APA Newsletters
Fall 1999
Volume 99, Number 1


Newsletter on Philosophy and Law

From the Guest Editor

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The Duty to Obey the Law

Introduction: Some Recent Work on Political Obligation

William A. Edmundson
School of Law, Georgia State University

If asked to provide a short list of duties incumbent upon everyone, most of us would include a duty to obey the law. We would hedge the duty with qualifications—the legal system must not be grossly unjust, the duty is a prima facie one that may have to yield to other, more compelling moral requirements—but these qualifications would not, in themselves, weaken our confidence that such a duty exists if indeed any do. But, despite its initial plausibility, the idea that there is a duty to obey the law has not fared well under the scrutiny to which it has been subjected since the popular debates in the 1960s about the legitimacy of civil disobedience. Many leading political philosophers writing today have, in fact, concluded that in contemporary circumstances there is no such duty, not even a prima facie one, not even under just and legitimate legal regimes. Not all have been willing to hop on to the skeptical bandwagon, however, and work continues to rescue the duty to obey the law from the barrage of objections to which it has been subjected. In this Introduction I want to survey briefly two strands of this rehabilitative work. One would found the duty to obey the law on a more general duty of fair play; the other renders the duty to obey the law as a species of natural duty.

The Duty of Fair Play and the "Acceptance" Problem

George Klosko1 has defended an account of the duty to obey that rests on H. L. A. Hart’s celebrated duty of fair play, that is, the duty to cooperate that falls upon those who benefit from the cooperative sacrifices of others. This kind of account, on its face at least, avoids any appeal to the consent of those subject to the duty, and thus promises to avoid the perennial objections to consent theories of political obligation, which include the assertion that insufficiently many subjects have actually consented to obey the law, and the denial that the necessary preconditions of free, binding consent are generally satisfied with respect to the duty to obey. John Rawls, at one time, believed that the duty to obey could be justified by appeal to the duty of fair play, but had abandoned this position even before searching critiques were published, in 1974 by Robert Nozick in his Anarchy, State and Utopia, and in 1979 by John Simmons’s comprehensive Moral Principles and Political Obligations.

Nozick’s objections were aimed at the duty of fair play itself, and indirectly at the strategy of deriving the duty to obey the law from it. Nozick challenged the idea that the fair play duty could in fact so easily finesse the difficulties that beset consent theories; he demanded to know how others might thrust a duty upon one by merely benefiting one, and he offered a number of examples purporting to show that a cooperative scheme that merely benefits another is insufficient to impose a duty of reciprocal sacrifice, at least not absent something like consent to cooperate. Rawls had similarly concluded that acceptance of benefits, over and above mere receipt, is necessary to create an obligation.

Klosko has challenged Nozick’s dismissal of the duty of fair play and has, thereby, undertaken to press forward with Rawls’s early, but later abandoned, project of establishing the duty to obey the law as a species of the duty of fair play. Klosko proceeds by first distinguishing excludable and nonexcludable goods in the following way: excludable goods (such as admission to a concert) are ones that are readily deniable to anyone who refuses the conditions providers place upon their provision, while nonexcludable goods (such as public order and national defense) cannot readily be denied by their providers, nor refused by their recipients. The troublesome cases for the fair play account, Klosko thinks, involve nonexcludable goods, for these do not seem to be capable of being accepted in the required sense. But a further distinction, between presumptive and discretionary goods, helps limit the difficulty. Presumptive goods are those that, like Rawls’s primary goods, may be presumed to benefit anyone who receives them, unlike discretionary goods that, though pleasant enough, one may readily live without. Nozick’s counterexamples to the duty of fair play, Klosko argues, gain a specious force from the fact that they involve discretionary goods (classical music, books) rather than presumptive ones.

The principle of fair play can thus be restated in an unobjectionable way by adding the proviso that the benefits conveyed by cooperation be presumptive public goods whose benefits to the average recipient are clearly worth the burden of cooperatively providing them, and that these burdens be fairly distributed. Klosko turns to the difficulty that governments typically provide discretionary as well as presumptive goods (he counts transportation, health, recreation, and education among the former; and defense, pollution abatement, and water supply among the latter) and claim to impose duties of obedience that are indifferent to the distinction. His answer is to argue that state delivery of a package of discretionary and presumptive goods throws upon the beneficiary the burden of showing that his burden of cooperating exceeds his total (not marginal) benefits from the cooperative scheme or that the scheme is unfair.

Klosko’s effort has been criticized by John Simmons. Simmons’s view is that fair play duties only bind participants in cooperative schemes, rather than mere beneficiaries. Klosko’s presumptive goods are, at best, proxies for participation. Moreover, Klosko’s "burden-shifting" move from a duty to contribute to the provision of presumptive goods, to a duty to contribute to the provision of a "package" combining presumptive and discretionary goods, to a presumptive duty to contribute to the provision of discretionary goods in the package, is (rightly) exposed by Simmons as transparently fallacious.

Simmons could simply be challenged on the claim that the appeal of the idea of presumptive goods derives entirely from its probabilistic connection with consent-like notions like participation (Simmons) and acceptance (Rawls). Simmons’s own view is that participation—in the sense required to generate fair-play duties—does not collapse into consent, but his account of the difference is ephemeral. Acceptance is, for Simmons, one but not necessarily the only way to become a participant. On his account, a benefit is accepted by actor A just in case A, with knowledge of the cooperative debt attached, either actively seeks and gets the benefit or willingly takes the benefit with the belief that the benefit net of the cooperative debt is worth it to A. Klosko might plausibly counter that there are nonexcludable benefit cases in which a fair play duty arises despite the absence of acceptance. One case that Klosko describes is that of a society under siege. Collective defense is not futile, but requires universal or near universal cooperation. Suppose a certain actor A believes that he is particularly likely to be killed if the besieging power is resisted even though resistance is otherwise likely to succeed. On Klosko’s view, this A has a fair play duty to do his share, even to serve in the vanguard if ordered; while on Simmons’s view A has no fair play duty to serve—the benefits of resistance are merely "thrust upon" him. Here, I think, intuition is likely to side with Klosko rather than Simmons.

Simmons claims that few of the goods furnished by governments are presumptive in Klosko’s sense, suggesting that this throws the weight of Klosko’s argument for general political obligation (rather than a minimal, Nozickian, nightwatchman state) onto the (flawed) argument that individuals who receive presumptive goods carry a burden of showing they have no duty to contribute to discretionary goods thrown into the package. Simmons may be right about Klosko’s dialectical predicament, but it is to some degree one of Klosko’s own making, and one that he might be able to avoid. The problem is his sketchy, inconsistent, and (nonetheless) crabbed account of presumptive goods. Consider road building—not a presumptive but a discretionary good for Klosko, but why? The answer mustn’t be, because moving around by road isn’t necessary—this can’t be the answer because being free of foreign domination and living in orderly rather than chaotic circumstances aren’t necessary either. The dialectic here seems to track that sparked by Rawls’s notion of primary goods. Objectors to counting good X as presumptive (or primary) will point out that some people would prefer to do without X. Defenders will reply either that: (a) such people are too odd to take seriously; or (b) that X, though perhaps not wanted by all, is a means to Y, which is; or (c) in any case, such people can easily foreswear X and be none the worse off. This was Rawls’s way with wealth as a primary good: if you don’t want it, you can spend it or give it away.

Keeping the theory of the nonpublic good "thin" seems easy because unwanted excludable presumptive (or primary) goods can in principle simply be rejected. Presumptive public goods take us down a different path. We have to pay for them but we can’t give them away—we are taxed to pay for armies but the direct and indirect benefits of having armies to defend us are not ones we can cash in or renounce. But, of course, this is true of having roads at our disposal as well. Candidate presumptive public goods are likelier to incur objections precisely because everyone is stuck both with the real cost as well as the (perhaps dubious) benefit of them. This perhaps accounts for Klosko’s trepidation and Simmons’s certainty that few of the goods of government are presumptive. But Klosko could bite this bullet and allow a robust category of presumptive public goods to include transportation and public health measures, without allowing it to engulf excludable goods like recreation. The borderline cases will be such things as education, individualized health care, and the social safety net. These benefits might be set up along excludable lines but would then involve spillover benefits that are nonexcludable. However the boundary is finally drawn, its compass will be generous enough to give Klosko the option of simply denying that there is a fair play duty to cooperate in providing genuinely discretionary goods. Political obligation, on fair play grounds, will not then extend as far as some legislation would extend it, but it is not wildly unsatisfactory to take the position that fair play requires us to help pay, for example, for highway construction and maintenance but not for highway beautification—regardless of what we happen to value.

Consent theorists will have noticed a parallel here to the ascent many of them have been forced to make from actual, to tacit, to hypothetical consent to obey the law. The ascent is made, similarly, for the sake of generality: not all explicitly assent to be governed; more perhaps, but still not all, tacitly do so; but all reasonable people would (allegedly) do so if fully informed, free of bias, etc. So too Klosko, the fair play theorist, is impelled to ascend from public goods actually desired, to goods presumptively desired, to goods no reasonable person would forego. The consent theorist might well demand: Why ask what goods a reasonable person would desire by way of asking what burdens may fairly be imposed upon her? Why not ask straight away what system of benefits and burdens would a reasonable person assent to? The fair play theorist, in other words, is open to the charge that he is attempting to localize what is a necessarily global contractualist project. Political obligation should not be expected to emerge until the entire scheme is opened to view, at which point concerns about fairness have simply become part of a hypothetical citizen’s assessment of the moral demands the scheme may make of her. Fairness loses its foundational role.

Simmons similarly suggests that Klosko’s reworking of the principle of fair play relies upon an unacknowledged appeal to extraneous moral principles. If the presumptive goods invoked by Klosko are sufficiently commanding, then the structure of his defense of political obligation begins to look like a necessity argument, roughly of the form: all have a duty to contribute as required to bring about sufficiently compelling (i.e., presumptive) goods; the rule of law is a sufficiently compelling good; the rule of law requires obedience; therefore, all have a duty to obey the law. The weak link of the necessity argument is, notoriously, the fact that general obedience is not in fact necessary to the rule of law. Because the rule of law is capable of withstanding moderate levels of noncompliance, and because noncompliance is often required by prudential and even moral reasons, the premise "the rule of law requires obedience" is equivocal—true as a characterization of what legal authorities claim, but false as a characterization of the level of compliance needed to maintain order.

The usefulness of the fair play idea turns out to consist in its ability to explain why those who take advantage of the possibility of harmless noncompliance are morally bound not to do so. Simmons offers the example of a water rationing rule whose benefit requires only 50 percent compliance; those who secretly water their lawns at night in violation of the rule violate fair play even though their compliance is not necessary to secure the benefits of the scheme. But, cast in this role, the duty of fair play functions as a supplement to the argument from necessity, rather than as an independently sufficient foundation for political obligation. A more perspicuous defense of political obligation would acknowledge this subordinate role for the duty of fair play.

In subsequent work, Klosko acknowledges the limitations of his initial fair-play account. To address the discretionary goods problem, he deploys, instead, what he terms an "indirect" argument. This argument stresses the fact that discretionary goods are often practically, if only "indirectly," necessary to the provision of presumptive goods. Klosko’s suggestion encompasses two kinds of case. The first has to do with the choice of means, as where, for example, the presumptive good of national defense is supplied by building a Maginot Line. As such, the Maginot Line is not a presumptive good because an alternative means might serve as well (or better, as events proved). The second has to do with discretionary goods that facilitate the provision of a presumptive good, but are not themselves means of provision. For example, a road system, though a discretionary good, facilitates defense, although it is not a means of defense in the way that, for example, armored vehicles are a means of defense. Either sort of indirect relation to a presumptive good suffices for a discretionary good to be regarded as part of an "indivisible benefit package."

If fair, democratic, decision procedures lead to the provision of an indivisible benefit package, Klosko argues, then a presumption favoring outcomes of such decision procedures (rather than the earlier-invoked presumptive goodness of the package itself) suffices to impose a duty, even upon dissenters, to contribute. Goods—like social insurance, cultural and recreational services, and certain conservation measures— that cannot be defended as bundled into an indivisible benefit package, will, Klosko concedes, have to be defended by appeal to other moral principles, such as a natural duty of justice.

Simmons’s response to Klosko’s revised argument reiterates the necessity of voluntary receipt. The term "presumptively beneficial" goods must mean that the unwilling but helpless recipient is allowed to rebut the presumption that they are a net benefit to him. To the extent that Klosko is serious about allowing such a rebuttal, his is really a voluntaristic view like Simmons’s. To the extent that Klosko is not really serious about allowing the recipient to rebut, he is, in Simmons’s view, just wrong about what it takes to create a moral bond. Additionally, Simmons would likely argue that Klosko’s invocation of a presumption favoring the outcomes of fair, democratic procedures is inadequate unless it amounts to a concession that participation is necessary before fair-play duties can come into being.

Natural Duty and the
"Particularity" Objection

The appeal to a natural duty to support just institutions is another path that has been explored to circumvent the limitations of consent theories. This was the tack taken by Rawls in A Theory of Justice (1971), after he perceived shortcomings in the fair-play account that he had given in his 1964 article, "Legal Obligation and the Duty of Fair Play." The advantage of the natural duty account is that it avoids conditioning the duty to obey the law upon any prior conduct or circumstance of the actor, such as consent or receipt or acceptance of benefits. Such conditions are troublesome, as we have seen, for, while the citizenry of a given state may largely satisfy them, they are not likely to be generally satisfied in a real jurisdiction, nor, for that matter, does the state’s claim to authority acknowledge the need to satisfy them at all. But, despite this promised advantage, the natural duty account has itself not escaped objection. Simon Cushing’s contribution to this Newsletter presents a general case against Rawls’s appeal to natural duty. In the remainder of this Introduction I will focus on what could be called the "particularity" or "special allegiance" objection to the natural duty theory, and Jeremy Waldron’s effort to address it.

The particularity objection was raised by Simmons in his 1979 book on political obligation and by Ronald Dworkin, in 1986, in Law’s Empire. The objection goes like this: a natural duty to support just institutions is one that everyone—wherever and however situated—is supposed to owe toward existing, sufficiently just, institutions—wherever and however situated. But the fact is that people believe they have special ties to their own governments (however flawed) and not to other governments (however just). A natural duty theory cannot dismiss this attitude without doing violence to what is a settled conviction of many reflective and reasonable people, and therefore the theory must instead somehow reconstruct it. The most promising lines of reconstruction for the natural duty theorist, however, are ones that seem to invoke things like consent, or receipt of benefits—invocations that would lead us back to the consent and fair play theories whose limitations the appeal to natural duty was supposed to avoid. The detour along the path of natural duty, the objection concludes, is a dead end.

Waldron’s answer begins by noting a qualification in Rawls’s statement of the natural duty, and a related objection arising from that qualification. Rawls’s duty to support and comply with just institutions is restricted to those that "apply to us," and the objection is that no sense can be given to the restriction without returning to ideas of consent or fair play. (The companion duty to help create just institutions is not qualified in this way, but is instead qualified by the condition that the cost to the actor be minimal.) Waldron notes that all will agree that there is at least some sort of duty not to undermine just institutions existing elsewhere, and argues that theories of "acquired" obligation (including consent and fair play theories) cannot well explain why this should be so. French officials who sought to frustrate due process in New Zealand’s investigation of the "Rainbow Warrior" affair, for example, acted contrary to a duty that could hardly be characterized as self-imposed, or as flowing from some prior undertaking.

Consent and fair play theorists may well grant that both the Frenchman and the New Zealander are duty-bound not to undermine the just laws of New Zealand; they may (and, if Waldron is right, must) concede the existence of what, for lack of a better term, might be called the (undifferentiated) natural duty not to undermine just institutions; their objection is not that no such duty exists, but that it cannot capture what is special about the relation between a citizen and the institutions of her own government. Accordingly, Waldron’s next step is to explore the resources available to the natural duty theorist by which to explain what is distinctive about the New Zealander’s relation to the law of New Zealand.

Waldron’s account proceeds in three stages. The idea is to distinguish, at the first stage, between "range-limited" and range-unlimited principles of justice, and between two categories of person—insiders and outsiders—definable with reference to range-limited principles. Someone named "Hobbes," for example, might justly distribute cake in equal shares among his own children without intending to include neighborhood child Calvin. Calvin is an outsider with respect to the distributive principle Hobbes intends to follow because Calvin doesn’t fall within the class of persons "referred to in the fullest statement" of the principle, and to whom its requirements are intended to apply.

At the second stage, Waldron extends the insider/outsider distinction to the administration of range-limited principles of justice. Because principles of justice aren’t self-administering, institutions are necessary and the question becomes: What demands must be made of insiders and of outsiders in order for a range-limited principle of justice to be put into effect? Waldron lists three: (1) insiders must accept the demand of the relevant range-limited principle; (2) insiders must accept the demand that they accept the administering institution’s administration of the principle; and (3) insiders and outsiders must refrain from undermining the administering institution. Waldron claims that his account of these demands makes sense of the Rawlsian proviso that an actor’s duty to support just institutions is limited to those that "apply to him," and at the same time explains "much of" the specialness of an actor’s relationship to his own national institutions—conceding that there is a somewhat atavistic residue of "patriotic affect" that escapes, but which escapes the consent and fair play accounts as well.

I now want to concentrate on Waldron’s treatment of John Simmons’s objection to the natural duty as Rawls formulated it, and what that treatment exposes about the insider/outsider distinction upon which Waldron relies. Simmons’s objection envisaged a Montana-based society for the advancement of philosophers, justly constituted, which presumed to levy Simmons for a contribution to its efforts. Although the institution is supposed to be just, and its activities to "apply to" Simmons, he rejects the idea that he might be bound in duty to contribute: "People cannot simply force institutions on me, no matter how just, and force on me a moral bond to do my part." (Moral Principles and Political Obligations, 148). Waldron counters by pointing out that the example trades upon an ambiguity in the supposition that the philosopher’s society is just: that might mean that it is justly run, as an internal, procedural matter; or it might mean that it pursues substantive justice. Alter the example, so that the aim is not provision for philosophers but provision for the homeless; this makes it clearer that the institution is in service of substantive justice, in which case it is far from clear that the very existence of the institution is incapable of thrusting upon the rest of us a duty of noninterference, even support.

As in the case of Klosko’s critique of Nozick’s counterexamples to the duty of fair play, the importance of the end served by an enterprise may have a decisive effect on our intuitions about how its existence affects our moral situation. Because the pursuit of justice is very important, in fact a "moral imperative," Waldron’s advice is that the point has been reached at which "the theorist of natural duty must stop treating [the] question, ‘Can an organization simply impose itself on us, morally . . . ?’ as an objection and simply insist that the answer is yes." ("Special Ties and Natural Duties," 27) In the specific case of the Montanans for the homeless, if the organization is correct in believing that more generous provision for the homeless is a matter of justice, not mere charity, and if it is both effective and not in competition with any more effective organization pursuing this end, then Simmons (or any of us) might (Waldron hedges, for reasons to be explored in a moment) have a duty to pay what the Montanans have determined to be our fair share.

What is tantalizingly unclear about Waldron’s example is whether the homeless with whom the Montanans are concerned are supposed to be homeless Montanans, or the homeless more generally, perhaps even the homeless of the world. If only homeless Montanans are concerned, then it would be open to Simmons to regard himself as an outsider with respect to an institution administering a range-limited principle of distributive justice among Montanans, and as an outsider Simmons’s duty is simply one to "refrain from attacking or sabotaging" the organization, rather than a duty to "accept the supervision" of the group—although of course Montanans generally, as insiders, would be subject to the latter duty, if Waldron’s important provisos of effectiveness and legitimacy are also satisfied.

Waldron’s "effectiveness" and "legitimacy" provisos do not require the consent of those subject to supervision, but are indirectly related to consent. Effectiveness means that the organization is capable of doing the justice it purports to do, and this will often depend upon whether sufficiently many are sufficiently disposed to accept its supervision to make it reasonable to think that it can do the job. Legitimacy comes into play as a separate proviso because of the problems generated by the existence of multiple organizations purporting to do justice over a given territory. To escape a Hobbesian state of nature, we must have institutions, but to escape the Nozickian nightmare of rival, contending, agencies of justice, legitimacy must be a unique title within a territory. Which one among equivalently just regimes shall it be, if there is a plurality? Either the more powerful or the more popular may be the more salient; and salience, for Waldron’s purposes, is decisive as to which is to be regarded as the legitimate one.

Waldron’s position, in summary, is that "an organization that is just, effective, and legitimate (in the sense of being singled out as the salient organization for this territory) has eo ipso a claim on our allegiance." ("Special Ties," 27) How this works out in cases will depend upon their particulars. In the Montana case, even residents of Montana might doubt the effectiveness and salience of a rump organization for the (Montana) homeless. If the scope of the principle of justice that the group purports to administer is opened up to encompass the homeless everywhere, Simmons would be unable to excuse himself from contributing on the ground that he is an outsider with respect to the scheme, though he would be entitled to harbor graver doubts about the effectiveness and salience of the organization. Hence, Waldron’s tentative verdict that Simmons "might" have a duty to pay.

The result in Waldron’s discussion of the Montanans might suggest that his view is not really radical; that, at most, it is a plausible effort to account for settled convictions that we are rather comfortable with anyway. He’s not about to let organizations thrust duties upon us that we aren’t already inclined to accept. But I think what Waldron commits us to is much more radical than this, and that he is right in committing us to it. By concluding his discussion with the Montanans’ case he really lets us off the hook—at least momentarily—as to "our bad faith about justice." But this is only a reprieve, I suspect. The "backbone" of the natural duty position is that "our cooperation in establishing and sustaining political institutions that promote justice is morally required." ("Special Ties," 29) To paraphrase (and invert) Jan Narveson’s oft-stated view about people and happiness,2 what is demanded of us is that we make institutions for justice, not merely that we make institutions just.

Consider the situation of the Kosovar Albanians. Surely justice requires some sort of autonomy for these people, once resettled, with appropriate guarantees for the rights of the minority Serbian Kosovars. The Yugoslav government is plainly unsuited to administer justice in Kosovo, but then so is the Kosovo Liberation Army and the crypto-state of Albania. Waldron’s view seems quite congenial to the implication that everyone—Kosovar insider or the outsider remainder of the world—is morally required to support institutions capable of doing justice. As a matter of fact, the only such institution with that capacity is the NATO alliance. Waldron’s view also seems to imply support for the International Tribunal’s command that Milosevic and his lieutenants be brought to justice as war criminals, even though an effort to do that could easily destabilize any diplomatic settlement. History has thrust these duties upon us, apparently, and it is no answer to say that we didn’t choose them or that our interests aren’t served by them.

Waldron’s defense of the possible justice of range-limited principles is instructive here. On consent and fair play accounts—as well as on "associative obligation" and "plural subject" accounts along the lines offered, respectively, by Ronald Dworkin and Margaret Gilbert—it is a fairly straightforward matter to understand how both a principle’s range of application (i.e., those whose claims it speaks to) and the range of its obligatory force (i.e., those bound by it) might be limited—both will vary according to who consents, who receives what benefits, who associates with whom, and who regards whom as part of a "we." Waldron doesn’t want to condition obligatory force on any of these things, for to do so would be to succumb to the difficulty that political obligation becomes merely conditional, even optional. He has therefore explored a natural duty alternative, but to meet the particularity objection he is led to decouple range of application and range of obligatory force. "Insiders" are bound, like it or not, to principles and institutions of justice addressing their claims. "Outsiders" are bound, like it or not, not to upset these institutions, but are not bound to the specific provisions those institutions make because their claims are not those being addressed. But, given the gross distributive disparities we find in the world, Waldron is alert to the unsatisfactoriness of any account that seems to treat our claims, entre nous, and their claims, entre eux, as subject to distinct principles of justice. This raises the question: how can a principle be both sufficiently range-limited to meet the particularity objection and sufficiently just to impose a natural duty?

Waldron’s answer extends Kant’s story about the moral imperative of creating civil society. "Since no one can afford to wait until all possible conflicts arise so that all can be definitively settled at once, the Kantian approach implies that I should enter quickly into a form of society with those immediately adjacent to me, those with whose interests my resource use is likely to pose the most frequent and dangerous conflicts." ("Special Ties," 15) Thus, principles of justice may be limited accordingly, "at least on a pro tem basis" and we may understand the justice of a system of nation-states in this way. But "as the sphere of human interaction expands, further conflicts may arise, and the scope of the legal framework must be extended and if necessary re-thought," Waldron notes ("Special Ties," 15). It should go without saying that, in the two centuries since Kant wrote, the circle of our concern for justice has expanded at least as far as the ever-expanding sphere of (however vicarious or virtual) human interaction. The once-familiar world neatly partitioned into nation-states has already given way to a complex pattern of overlapping local, sub- and supra-national regional and international organizations and multi-national treaty organizations such as the UN, the EEU, the International Court of Justice, and the Commonwealth formerly known as British. The importance of fashioning political institutions capable of commanding our allegiance may have, already, proven greater than that of saving the notion that, with respect to the demands of justice, "my country" is somehow special.

It appears that, in the course of events, non-national agencies are increasingly likely candidates to satisfy Waldron’s conditions of justice, effectiveness, and legitimacy. Against this background, Waldron’s view presents patriots of the traditional stripe with some rather stern consequences, and these appear even sterner in light of the subordinate role he assigns to the notions of consent and benefit. Consent serves to identify the salient institutions of justice; it is not an independently necessary ground of political obligation. Benefits are mentioned only as a concern of distributive justice; their receipt by an actor is, likewise, not a necessary ground of political obligation. It is of course open to Waldron to make more generous allowance for consent and benefit in his wider theory of political morality. (And what of self-determination? Doesn’t that turn out, on inspection, to be a kind of other-determination anyway, and as such, subject to the demands of justice? ) But his natural duty account of political obligation owes its generality to assigning consent and benefit, for this purpose anyway, a secondary role.

Waldron, interestingly, endorses Rawls’s view that political obligation turns out to be a complex and layered affair, governed by a plurality of moral principles. Since this seems inescapably so, the question arises: Why not let other principles, viz., those of acquired obligation, provide an answer to the particularity objection as part of an account—like that offered by Rawls—which openly exhibits this kind of complexity? To the extent that the natural duty substrate turns out not to be particularly congenial to particularity, perhaps Waldron would do better to extend his response to Simmons: "the theorist of natural duty must stop treating [the] question, ‘Can an organization simply impose itself on us, morally and without regard to locality . . . ?’ as an objection and simply insist that the answer is yes."3

Conclusion

In addition to Simon Cushing’s examination of Rawls’s natural duty theory (previously mentioned), this Newsletter also includes a discussion by Christopher Wellman of the argument from gratitude, and Mark C. Murphy’s critique of recent efforts to decouple political authority from the duty of obedience. It is this Editor’s hope that these discussions show that—while the "last word" has yet to be uttered—the perennial interest of the problem of political obligation has not foreclosed the possibility of incremental progress toward resolution.

Notes

1. The relevant citations for Klosko, and other scholars discussed subsequently, are listed in the selective bibliography below.

2. Narveson contends that it is an error to interpret utilitarianism as requiring that people be made for the sake of happiness, rather than happiness for people. See, e.g., Narveson 1973.

3. Cf. Waldron, "Special Ties," 27, quoted earlier. The italicized passage is the addition I’m recommending to Waldron’s original language.

 

Partial Bibliography

Fair Play and the "Acceptance" Problem

George Klosko, "The Principle of Fairness and Political Obligation" Ethics 97 (1987): 353–62.

George Klosko, "Presumptive Benefit, Fairness, and Political Obligation," Philosophy and Public Affairs 16 (1987): 241–59.

George Klosko, "The Obligation to Contribute to Discretionary Public Goods," Political Studies 38 (1990): 196–214.

George Klosko, The Principle of Fairness and Political Obligation (Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 1992).

Jan Narveson, "Moral Problems of Population," The Monist 57 (l973): 62–86. Reprinted in M. Bayles, Ethics and Population (Piscataway, N.J., l976).

Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia (New York: Basic Books, 1974), pp. 90–95.

John Rawls, "Legal Obligation and the Duty of Fair Play," in Sidney Hook, ed., Law and Philosophy (New York: NYU Press, 1964).

John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press, 1971),pp. 108–14, 335–50.

A. John Simmons, "The Anarchist Position: A Reply to Klosko and Senor," Philosophy and Public Affairs 16 (1987): 269–79.

A. John Simmons, On the Edge of Anarchy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), pp. 257–60.

A. John Simmons, Moral Principles and Political Obligations (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), pp. 101–42.

Natural Duty and the "Particularity" Objection

Ronald Dworkin, Law’s Empire (Cambridge, Mass: Belknap Press, 1986), p. 193; John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press, 1971), pp. 114–17, 334–37.

A. John Simmons, Moral Principles and Political Obligations (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), pp. 143–56.

Jeremy Waldron, "Special Ties and Natural Duties," Philosophy and Public Affairs 22 (1993): 3–30.


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