The Consent You Are Assumed to Have Given - And Constitutional Protection

How Ancient Rights Protect a Freedom Most People Don't Know They Have

What if the most fundamental question about your relationship with government—whether you actually agreed to it—was hiding in plain sight? What if the answer was written in documents most of us venerate but few of us read?

This isn't a conspiracy theory. It's contract law, trust law, and constitutional history. And once you see it, everything looks different.

Part One: The Question Nobody Asks

Every day, millions of people pay taxes, apply for permits, renew licences, and comply with thousands of regulations. Most assume they have no choice. It's just how things work.

But here's a question almost nobody asks: Where is the agreement?

Think about it. In every other area of life, obligations come from agreements:

• Your phone contract? You signed it.

• Your mortgage? You signed it.

• Your employment? You signed a contract.

• Your gym membership? You agreed to terms.

We understand instinctively that we can't be obligated to things we never agreed to. If a stranger walked up and demanded you pay them £500 because "that's the rule," you'd ask: "What rule? When did I agree to that?"

Yet when it comes to government obligations, we skip this question entirely. We assume the obligation exists because... it just does. Because everyone complies. Because we'd get in trouble if we didn't.

But assumption isn't agreement. And "everyone does it" isn't a contract.

Part Two: What the Magna Carta Actually Says

In 1215, English barons confronted King John at Runnymede and forced him to acknowledge something revolutionary: even the King is bound by law.

Most people know this much. But few know what specifically the Magna Carta protected.

Clause 39 states:

"No free man shall be seized, imprisoned, stripped of his rights or possessions, outlawed, exiled, or in any way ruined, nor shall we proceed against him or send others to do so, except by the lawful judgment of his peers or by the law of the land."

Read that carefully. It doesn't say "except when the government makes a rule." It says "by the law of the land"—and this phrase has a specific meaning that has been debated and defined for 800 years.

"The law of the land" means due process. It means proper procedure. It means you cannot be deprived of your rights or property without:

• Proper notice of what you're accused of

• An opportunity to respond

• A lawful basis for the claim against you

This wasn't just about criminal trials. It was about any seizure of rights or property. The King couldn't simply declare that you owed him something. There had to be a lawful basis—a proper foundation.

Clause 40 is even more direct:

"To no one will we sell, to no one will we deny or delay, right or justice."

Justice isn't something to be bought or denied. It's something every free person is entitled to.

These principles didn't die in 1215. They were carried forward through English common law, written into the English Bill of Rights of 1689, and then transported across the Atlantic where they became the foundation of something new.

Part Three: What the American Founders Built

When the American founders drafted the Constitution and Bill of Rights, they weren't inventing new ideas. They were codifying ancient ones—the same principles that emerged at Runnymede.

The Fifth Amendment states:

"No person shall be... deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law."

There it is again: due process. The same principle from the Magna Carta, now constitutional law.

The Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery but said something broader:

"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude... shall exist within the United States."

Involuntary servitude. Forced labour. Being compelled to work or act without your agreement. The Constitution prohibits this absolutely.

The Fourteenth Amendment extended due process to state governments:

"...nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law."

And Article III, Section 2 established that federal courts have jurisdiction over cases "in Law and Equity"—preserving the ancient principles of fairness, conscience, and justice that developed alongside common law.

These aren't just historical curiosities. They are constitutional requirements that the government must meet before it can make claims against you.

The question is: does it meet them?

Part Four: The Hidden Assumption

Here's where it gets interesting.

When the government taxes you, what's the legal basis? When a regulatory body demands compliance, what's the foundation? When you're told you need a licence to do something, what gives them authority over you specifically?

The answer, if you trace it back far enough, is always the same: you are a "person" subject to their jurisdiction.

But what does "person" actually mean?

Most people assume "person" just means "human being." It seems obvious. But law is precise about definitions, and the legal definition of "person" isn't what most people think.

In the United Kingdom, the Interpretation Act 1978 defines "person" as:

"Person" includes a body of persons corporate or unincorporate.

In the United States, the Dictionary Act (1 U.S.C. § 1) defines "person" as:

"the words 'person' and 'whoever' include corporations, companies, associations, firms, partnerships, societies, and joint stock companies, as well as individuals"

Notice what both definitions have in common: they're lists of artificial entities. Corporations. Companies. Associations. Partnerships. These are legal constructs—things that exist on paper, created by registration and filing.

Neither definition says "person means a living human being."

This isn't a trick or a loophole. It's simply what the law says. "Person" is a defined term that refers to legal entities—including, but not limited to, individual humans as represented in the legal system.

Part Five: The Two Things Created at Birth Registration

When a baby is born, what happens?

A living human being comes into existence—flesh and blood, breathing, conscious. This living being exists in physical reality, independent of any paperwork.

Then, typically within weeks, something else happens: birth registration.

Registration creates a legal record. A certificate is issued. A name is recorded in a government database. From this moment, a "person" exists in the legal system—an entity identified by that name, with a registration number, existing in the statutory framework.

Here's the critical insight: these are two different things.

One is a living being. The other is a legal record.

One existed before the paperwork. The other was created by the paperwork.

One is flesh and blood. The other is data in a system.

The law even uses different terms, though most people don't notice. It speaks of "natural persons" (the legal record associated with a living human) and "legal persons" (corporations and other entities). Both are "persons." Neither is the living being itself.

This distinction might seem academic. But it has profound consequences.

Part Six: Masks and Actors

The word "person" comes from the Latin word "persona."

In Roman theatre, a persona was a mask worn by actors. The mask represented a character in the play. The actor wore the mask and spoke through it, giving the character a voice and actions.

But everyone understood: the actor was not the mask. The mask was a role. A character. Something the actor could put on and take off.

Legal language preserves this original meaning with remarkable precision.

Think about how we describe legal activity:

• People "act" in their capacity as directors

• Lawyers "represent" their clients

• Officers "act on behalf of" corporations

• We play "roles" in legal proceedings

This is theatre language. The legal system is a kind of stage where "persons" (characters/masks) perform "acts" (legal actions) according to "scripts" (legislation). And just like in theatre, the characters require actors to bring them to life.

A mask cannot speak on its own. A character cannot act without an actor. A legal person cannot function without a living being operating it.

This brings us to a fundamental principle that nobody disputes but few think through to its conclusion.

Part Seven: The Principle Everyone Accepts

Here's something that no lawyer, judge, or legal scholar would deny:

A legal person (like a corporation) cannot act on its own. It requires living human beings to act as its agents.

This is black letter law—completely uncontroversial. A corporation has no mind, no body, no ability to think or act. It's an abstraction. For a corporation to do anything—sign contracts, make decisions, own property—living humans must act on its behalf.

The leading case, Lennard's Carrying Co Ltd v Asiatic Petroleum Co Ltd (1915), put it this way:

"A corporation is an abstraction. It has no mind of its own any more than it has a body of its own; its active and directing will must consequently be found in somebody..."

Corporations act through directors—people who have been formally appointed to act on the corporation's behalf.

And here's the key: that appointment is contractual. Directors don't become directors by magic. They agree to serve. They accept the role. There are formal documents—contracts, board resolutions, filings with Companies House or state authorities.

Without this formal appointment, the corporation has no one authorised to act for it. It would be incompetent—legally unable to do anything.

Now here's the question nobody asks: if the legal "person" created by your birth registration also requires a living agent to function... where is your appointment contract?

Part Eight: The Missing Contract

When someone becomes a director of a corporation, specific things happen:

1. They are offered the position (clear terms presented)

2. They accept the position (explicit agreement)

3. There is an exchange of consideration (mutual benefit)

4. There is intention to create a legal relationship

5. The terms are certain (duties and authorities defined)

6. Both parties have capacity to enter the agreement

These are the six elements required for any valid contract in English and American law. All six must be present. If any is missing, no contract exists.

Now think about your birth registration.

• Were you offered the role of agent for the legal person created in your name?

• Did you accept that role?

• Was there consideration—did you receive something in exchange?

• Was there intention to create a legal relationship?

• Were the terms certain—did anyone explain what you were agreeing to?

• Did you have capacity—you were a newborn infant

The answer to every question is no.

You were days old. You couldn't understand language, let alone legal concepts. Nobody explained anything to you. Nobody asked for your agreement. No contract was signed.

What happened instead was presumption. The system simply presumed that you would act as agent for the legal person bearing your name. It presumed you agreed without ever asking.

But presumption is not contract. Assuming someone agreed is not the same as them actually agreeing.

Part Nine: The Burden of Proof

There's a principle in contract law that most people don't know but which becomes very important here.

The case Nash v Inman (1908) established that when the existence of a contract is challenged, the burden of proving that contract exists falls on the party claiming it exists.

In plain English: if someone says you agreed to something and you say you didn't, they have to prove you did. You don't have to prove you didn't.

This makes sense. You can't prove a negative. You can't produce evidence of an agreement that never happened. The party claiming the agreement exists must produce the agreement.

So when the government claims you are obligated as a "person" subject to their jurisdiction, and you ask "where is the contract appointing me as agent for this legal person?"...

They must produce it.

And they cannot. Because it doesn't exist.

Part Ten: What Equity Says

English and American law includes two parallel systems: common law and equity.

Common law is based on precedent—judges' decisions building up over centuries. Equity developed alongside it as a system of fairness and conscience, providing remedies when common law was too rigid.

Equity has constitutional status in the United States—Article III specifically gives federal courts jurisdiction over cases "in Equity." In England, where common law and equity conflict, equity prevails.

Equity operates through maxims—principles of fairness that courts must apply. Several are directly relevant here:

"Equity will not compel acceptance of a trust."

This means you cannot be forced into a position of responsibility (a fiduciary role) without your agreement. Someone can't just declare that you're responsible for managing something. You have to voluntarily accept that responsibility.

Applied to our situation: if the government claims you have responsibilities toward the legal "person" created in your name—managing it, paying its obligations, answering its liabilities—this is a fiduciary role. Equity says this cannot be imposed on you. You would have to accept it.

Did you? When? Where's the evidence of your acceptance?

"Equity will not aid a volunteer."

A "volunteer" in equity is someone who receives something without giving consideration—without a proper exchange of value. Equity won't help volunteers enforce claims.

The legal "person" created at your birth registration received something: the presumption that it could claim your productive capacity, your compliance, your participation. What did it give in exchange?

Nothing. It's a volunteer. And equity will not assist it.

"He who comes to equity must come with clean hands."

A party seeking equitable relief (fairness from a court) must have acted fairly themselves. If they've engaged in concealment, non-disclosure, or unfair dealing, equity bars their claim.

Has the government clearly explained to anyone that "person" doesn't simply mean "human being"? Has it disclosed that your relationship to the legal person is presumed, not contracted? Has it provided full information about what you were supposedly agreeing to?

The non-disclosure bars their claim.

Part Eleven: Trust Law and Beneficial Interest

Trust law provides another framework that illuminates what's happening.

A trust is a legal arrangement where one party (the trustee) holds property for the benefit of another party (the beneficiary). The trustee has legal title—their name might be on the paperwork—but the beneficial interest belongs to the beneficiary.

This separation of legal title and beneficial interest is fundamental to trust law and completely accepted in both UK and US jurisdictions.

Here's an example: A grandmother puts money in a trust for her grandchild. A trustee manages the money. The trustee's name might be on the bank account. But the beneficial interest—the right to actually benefit from that money—belongs to the grandchild.

Now apply this framework to your situation.

You are a living being—the source of your own productive capacity. Your thoughts originate with you. Your labour comes from you. Your creativity, your effort, your life energy—these are yours by nature of existence.

The legal person bearing your name is a construct in a statutory system. It can't think, work, or produce anything. It has no capacity of its own.

If the legal person appears to have income (because you worked and were paid in that name), where did that income actually originate? From you—the living being.

If the legal person appears to have property (registered in that name), who actually acquired it through their effort? You did.

The question becomes: by what instrument was beneficial interest in your life, your labour, and your property transferred to the legal person or the statutory system?

For any valid transfer of beneficial interest, equity requires:

• Clear intention to transfer

• Proper instrument (a deed, declaration, or contract)

• Voluntary execution

Where is that instrument? When did you sign it?

It doesn't exist.

Part Twelve: The Resulting Trust

When beneficial interest hasn't been validly transferred, equity has a principle that addresses this:

The resulting trust.

Established in cases like Westdeutsche Landesbank v Islington LBC (1996), the principle is straightforward: where beneficial interest hasn't been clearly and validly transferred to someone else, it remains with (or "results back to") the original owner.

You are the original owner of your own capacity. Your life, your labour, your creative output—these originate with you.

No valid transfer of beneficial interest from you to the legal "person" or to any statutory system ever occurred. There's no instrument. No contract. No deed.

By operation of resulting trust—by equity's own principles—beneficial interest in your capacity remains with you.

This means the legal person bearing your name is what trust law calls a "bare trustee." It may hold legal title to certain things (your name might appear on documents), but it holds no beneficial interest. It's an empty container.

And here's the crucial point: statutes operate on beneficial interest. Tax is assessed on beneficial ownership. Obligations attach to beneficial interest. Penalties target the beneficial holder.

If the legal person holds no beneficial interest—if it's a bare trustee only—there's nothing for statutes to operate upon.

Part Thirteen: Back to the Constitution

Now we can return to those foundational documents with new eyes.

The Magna Carta said no free person shall be deprived of rights or possessions except "by the law of the land"—meaning due process, proper procedure, lawful basis.

What is the lawful basis for treating you as obligated through a legal "person" to which you were never validly appointed as agent? Where is the due process when no contract exists, no disclosure was made, and no agreement was reached?

The Fifth Amendment says no person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law.

What due process occurred at your birth registration? You were an infant. No one explained anything. No agreement was formed. Yet the system claims authority over your property (through taxation) and your liberty (through regulation) based on this unilateral act?

The Thirteenth Amendment prohibits involuntary servitude.

If statutory participation is mandatory—if you must comply whether you agreed or not—how is this not involuntary servitude? The answer given is that you implicitly consent by participating in society. But implicit consent based on assumption, without disclosure or genuine choice, isn't consent at all.

The Constitution didn't just establish a government. It established limits on government. Those limits include the requirement that obligations have lawful foundation—that people cannot be bound by agreements they never made.

Part Fourteen: The Elephant in the Room

At this point, an obvious question arises: if this is true, why doesn't everyone know it?

There are several answers, none of which require conspiracy.

First, it's hidden by complexity. The statutory system is vast and intricate. Few people read the actual definitions in interpretation acts. Few connect principles from agency law, trust law, equity, and constitutional law into a single picture. The answer is available to anyone who looks—but it's scattered across different legal domains that are rarely synthesized.

Second, it's hidden by assumption. Everyone assumes "person" means "human being." Everyone assumes statutory obligations are automatic. Everyone assumes they have no choice. These assumptions are never questioned because they seem so obvious.

Third, it's hidden by conditioning. From birth, we're called by the name on the certificate. We're taught to identify as that name. Schools, employers, banks, and government all reinforce this identification. We don't just use the name—we believe we ARE the name. The distinction between the living being and the legal person becomes invisible.

Fourth, it's hidden by professional structure. Lawyers are trained within the system. They learn to operate statutory and common law, not to question its foundations. Someone who began asking these questions in law school would likely fail exams, never qualify, and never practice. The profession filters out those who see.

Fifth, it's hidden by labeling. Anyone who raises these questions is immediately labeled "sovereign citizen" or "pseudolaw." These labels function to dismiss without engaging. Once someone is placed in that category, their actual arguments aren't examined.

But labels aren't analysis. And the legal principles involved here—agency requires contract, equity won't compel acceptance of a trust, beneficial interest stays with the originator absent valid transfer, due process requires lawful basis—these are mainstream, black-letter law.

Part Fifteen: What This Means

If statutory participation is actually consensual—if it operates by presumption that can be rebutted rather than by obligation that cannot—what are the implications?

First, it means the constitutional protections are real. The Magna Carta's requirement of "law of the land" and the Constitution's requirement of "due process" aren't just historical relics. They're functional protections that still apply.

Second, it means the burden is on the right party. When agency is challenged, the party claiming agency exists must prove it. When contract is challenged, the party claiming contract exists must prove it. You don't have to prove you didn't agree. They have to prove you did.

Third, it means equity is available. The principles of equity—requiring clean hands, refusing to aid volunteers, prohibiting forced trusteeship—remain applicable. Courts have jurisdiction in equity. These protections can be invoked.

Fourth, it means the choice is yours. Not a consequence-free choice—the system operates on presumption, and challenging that presumption has practical difficulties. But a choice nonetheless. The constitutional order is built on consent of the governed. If that consent was never validly given, it's a question of fundamental rights, not just administrative compliance.

Part Sixteen: The Practical Reality

Let's be clear about something: understanding this framework doesn't make you immune to consequences in the immediate term.

The system operates through people who genuinely believe everyone is automatically subject to it. Police officers, tax collectors, court clerks—they've never questioned the assumption. They're not malicious; they're conditioned. They believe they themselves ARE the legal persons bearing their names.

If you tell a police officer "I'm not the person named on that licence," they won't understand. They'll likely proceed as if you hadn't spoken. Force exists, regardless of whether it has proper foundation.

The distinction that matters is between administrative enforcement and judicial recognition.

At the administrative level—encounters with officials, demands for compliance—you'll often face incomprehension or force. These officials don't have authority to evaluate jurisdictional challenges. They operate on presumption.

At the judicial level—courts, formal proceedings—different rules apply. Judges understand burden of proof. Legal challenges must be addressed. When someone properly challenges the existence of a contract, that challenge can't be simply ignored. The absence of foundational documents becomes relevant.

Creating a record matters. Stating the challenge matters. Preserving the position matters. Not because the official in front of you will suddenly agree, but because the formal legal position is established for when it reaches a level where legal principles actually apply.

Part Seventeen: What the Founders Actually Meant

The American founders were deeply influenced by John Locke's political philosophy. Locke wrote in his Second Treatise of Government:

"Men being, as has been said, by nature all free, equal, and independent, no one can be put out of this estate and subjected to the political power of another without his own consent."

This wasn't just philosophy. It was the operating principle behind the Revolution and the Constitution that followed.

"Consent of the governed" isn't a slogan. It's meant to be a structural feature of the legal order. Government derives its just powers from the consent of those governed.

What happens when consent is presumed rather than obtained? When obligations are imposed rather than agreed? When the foundational contract everyone supposedly signed... doesn't exist?

The founders would have recognized this as exactly the kind of overreach they were protecting against. The Constitution's requirements of due process, its prohibitions against involuntary servitude, its preservation of equity jurisdiction—these were designed to prevent exactly this situation.

They just didn't anticipate how thoroughly presumption would replace proof.

Part Eighteen: The Question That Remains

This exploration leads to a single question that has no easy answer:

Given that statutory participation appears to operate by presumed consent rather than actual agreement, and that constitutional and equitable principles protect against obligations imposed without proper foundation—what will you do with this knowledge?

This isn't advice. It's not a prescription. The practical realities are significant—force exists, conditioned officials don't understand, immediate consequences can occur regardless of ultimate legitimacy.

But knowledge matters. Understanding matters. Knowing that the question "where is the contract?" has no satisfactory answer matters.

The Magna Carta didn't end tyranny in 1215. But it established a principle that has worked its way through centuries of law: there must be lawful basis before rights can be taken.

The Constitution didn't prevent government overreach. But it established protections that remain formally in effect: due process, prohibition of involuntary servitude, equity jurisdiction.

What these documents created was not immunity but the foundation for legitimate challenge. They established that the question can be asked. That the burden falls on power, not on the individual. That presumption is not proof.

This knowledge has been obscured, not erased. The principles remain in the law itself. The statutes define "person" the way they do. Agency requires contract the way it does. Equity operates the way it does.

Seeing it doesn't make you free. But not seeing it guarantees you won't even ask the question.

Conclusion: The Consent You Never Gave

You were born into a system that presumed your agreement before you could speak.

A legal construct was created in your name and linked to you without your knowledge or consent. That construct has been treated as obligated to government demands for decades—tax, regulation, compliance—and you've been expected to fulfil those obligations through your own labour and resources.

The constitutional protections that were meant to prevent exactly this situation remain on the books. The Magna Carta's requirement of lawful basis. The Constitution's requirement of due process. Equity's prohibition against forced obligations.

None of these protections disappeared. They were simply... presumed not to apply. Because everyone assumed. Because nobody asked. Because the question itself was rendered unthinkable.

But the question can be thought. And once thought, cannot be unthought.

Where is the contract?

It's the one question the system cannot answer. Because the contract doesn't exist. Because you never signed it. Because an infant cannot consent.

You never gave the consent they presumed you gave.

The constitution says they can't take your liberty or property without due process.

The question is whether you'll ask them to prove they have it.

This article is for educational purposes. It presents legal principles that can be independently verified through the statutes and case law cited. What you do with this information is your own decision, made with full awareness of practical realities.

References and Further Reading

Constitutional Documents

• Magna Carta (1215), Clauses 39 and 40

• United States Constitution, Article III, Section 2

• Fifth Amendment to the US Constitution

• Thirteenth Amendment to the US Constitution

• Fourteenth Amendment to the US Constitution

• English Bill of Rights (1689)

Statutory Definitions

• Interpretation Act 1978 (UK), Schedule 1 — definition of "person"

• 1 U.S.C. § 1 (Dictionary Act, US) — definition of "person"

• Dilworth v Commissioner of Stamps [1899] AC 99 — interpretation of "includes"

Agency Law

• Lennard's Carrying Co Ltd v Asiatic Petroleum Co Ltd [1915] AC 705 — legal persons require agents

• Companies Act 2006, section 270 (UK) — requirement for natural person director

• Restatement (Third) of Agency (US) — agency formation requirements

• Nash v Inman [1908] 2 KB 1 — burden of proving contract

Trust and Equity

• Westdeutsche Landesbank Girozentrale v Islington LBC [1996] AC 669 — resulting trusts

• Knight v Knight (1840) 3 Beav 148 — three certainties for valid trust

• Keech v Sandford (1726) — fiduciary duties

• Lazarus Estates v Beasley [1956] 1 QB 702 — fraud vitiates everything

• Precision Instrument Manufacturing Co. v Automotive Maintenance Machinery Co., 324 U.S. 806 (1945) — clean hands doctrine

• Restatement (Third) of Trusts (US) — trust principles

Philosophy

• John Locke, Second Treatise of Government (1689) — consent of the governed

The principles outlined in this article are established law. The application to your specific situation is for you to determine. Verify all claims through the original sources. Make informed decisions.