This chapter charts the processes by which deceptive sex came to be regarded as potentially constituting rape. Through tracing these developments, the chapter shows how doctrinal features of the law, such as the way consent and deception are thought to be related and the modes of deception punished by law, were important to this process. Yet the chapter also argues that to fully appreciate how and why the changes occurred, it is necessary to pay attention to the array of interests the law has sought to protect and how these have shaped the range of topics of deception that might ground a charge of rape. This argument leads to the conclusion that, in the context of deceptive sex, deception has not been considered wrongful because it invalidates or precludes consent, as is commonly thought; rather, deception has invalidated or precluded consent because it has sometimes been considered wrongful. The chapter ends by introducing some reasons why this insight is important to ongoing debates regarding the criminalisation of deceptive sex.

This chapter introduces the main topic of this book, inducing intimacy, and explains that the focus is deceptively induced sex and intimate relationships (i.e., sex and sexual and/or romantic relationships). It then sets out the book’s core aims, that is, to examine how the law has responded to inducing intimacy as a form of wrongdoing and source of harms and what can this tell us about the justifiability and desirability of using law to respond to these practices in the present age. The chapter also outlines the scope of the book and the sources used before introducing the theoretical framework that informs the analysis in the remaining chapters, which is based on the cultural significance of sex and marriage, including their significance for self-construction. The chapter closes by outlining the main arguments of the book, including the potential for its historical analysis to inform contemporary debates about whether and how to respond to inducing intimacy via law today.

This chapter analyses crimes involving procuring sex, including procuring sex by deception. It argues that to appreciate the nature of these offences, and their place within this book, it is necessary both to understand how the verb ‘to procure’ was interpreted, including when and why it required deception, and to pay attention to the acts whose procurement was proscribed by law. The chapter provides elucidation on both fronts, showing how the procuring offences were geared towards prohibiting ‘illicit’ (i.e., immoral) sexual activities and therefore criminalised the use of deception to lure others into committing such acts. In demonstrating this point, the chapter argues that a culturally sensitive vision of what makes intimacy valuable shaped and constrained the use of the procuring offences. Finally, the chapter argues that the demise of the procuring offences set the stage for the expansion of the crime of rape by deception and that examining how the procuring offences worked yields important lessons for those attempting to engage critically with this development.

This chapter summarises the overarching narrative of this book and argues that as was as being intrinsically valuable it can inform contemporary debates about using law to regulate the practices of inducing intimacy. The discussion is organised around three sets of issues: the public and private dimensions of sex and intimate relationships, including the interests protected by law, the form of response (i.e., state or non-state), and the variety of legal response (i.e., public or private); the structure of legal responses, the meaning of consent and its relation to deception, targeted modes of deception, culpability matters, the requirement for a causal link between deception and ‘outcome’, and the temporalities of the legal wrong; and the substance of deceptions, including the dynamics governing the range of topics about which transparency has been expected. Drawing the discussion together, the chapter concludes by offering a new framework for constructing legal responses to deceptively induced intimacy, which builds on the core insight and these responses have historically been predicated on temporally sensitive associations between self-construction and intimacy.

The current conception of political literature is still influenced, to a significant extent, by the commitment debate between Theodor Adorno and Georg Lukács, in which the political power of the literary imagination rests either in its abstract freedom from political realities (Adorno), or in its close fidelity to them (Lukács).

This essay suggests that an understanding of James Kelman’s writing, as a singular form of political literature, requires us to move beyond this opposition. In blending a writing that is deeply committed to locality and to place with a writing affiliated to the abstractions of Kafka and Beckett, Kelman’s work suggests new ways of imagining the terms in which the mind is both free from and bound to its determining conditions. The essay offers a reading of Kelman’s later novels – Translated Accounts, You Have to be Careful in the Land of the Free and pre-eminently Kiron Smith, boy – in order to develop an account of a political imagination that is attuned to the particular cleaving that Kelman performs, between freedom and servitude, between place and the dismantling of place.

The Introduction summarises the core themes of the book and outlines how the argument will proceed over the course of its chapters. It explains why the issue it centres around – namely, how the law grapples with the impact of mental disorder on decision-making – is so important, and why successfully navigating the tension between respect for (and deference to) idiosyncratic values, and protection from disorder or impairment, must be a precondition of England and Wales adopting ‘fused’ mental capacity and health legislation, or a more CRPD-compliant statutory framework. It also explains how the book relates to the existing literature in this area, which has focused in recent years on concerns about the binary nature of the capacity framework, and on the individualistic and rational ‘liberal subject’ on which this framework rests. Finally, it elaborates briefly on some of the concepts which the book will draw upon, in particular what is meant by ‘values’ and ‘beliefs’.

Where the real basis for finding someone to lack capacity is that you consider the beliefs or values that motivate their decision to be distorted by a mental illness, such that the decision is not authentically desired and so is unworthy of respect, this entails a number of empirical and normative claims. This chapter will interrogate these claims by reference to the wide-ranging literature on the nature of mental disorder, and on differing conceptions of autonomy and authenticity (as a component of autonomous decision-making). It will be concluded that while an agent acting on the basis of disordered beliefs or values will often be acting inauthentically (and thus non-autonomously), this will not always be the case, and situations could arise in which there is reason to believe that the agent would endorse or sanction their belief, even knowing it is derived from illness. Moreover, once the shaky conceptual ground on which such judgements must be made is acknowledged, it becomes essential that these judgements are brought out into the open, where they can be subject to appropriate scrutiny.

The law adopts a cliff-edge approach to capacity, drawing a bright line between those who are deemed to have the capacity to make a decision and those who are not. This reflects Enlightenment ideas about the limits of legitimate state authority, according to which substantial justification is required before the state can interfere with the autonomous choices of its citizens. Given its role in distinguishing those who are capable of making autonomous choices (to whom the state defers) from those who are not, it is generally assumed that the test for capacity must be neutral as to the substance of the values, beliefs, or reasons underpinning any given decision, so as to leave proper space for individual autonomy. As a result, the Mental Capacity Act 2005 adopts a process-orientated account of capacity, which focuses on whether certain of the person’s cognitive capacities are intact, and not on the outcome of the decision, or on the substance or origins of values or beliefs which underpin it.

Peripheral-patronage states have several ways in which they can respond to the bind outlined in Chapter 2. These strategies – recruiting, concealing and insulating – are usually selected according to the state’s possession or lack of domestic capacity and autonomy from outside interference. Some states fail to strategize, finding themselves in the unusual position of being granted autonomy, but lacking the capacity to use the space it provides. Concealing, which involves an invitation of outside scrutiny with the intent to manage the process that follows, is the most interesting strategy because, when successful, it can erode the international norms its users invoke. Successful concealing is possible when the concealing state is both illegible to outsiders and capitalizes on an asymmetrically interdependent relationship with its larger partner in which each has the capacity to harm the other’s reputation. As a result, the concealing state receives the larger actor’s seal of approval for conduct that actually undermines the latter’s chosen norm.

The chapter, informed by the Systematicity and Understanding Theses, discusses how understanding in medicine bolsters human agency. Rejecting the initial pathocentric proposal of medicine’s aim (Pellegrino 2001; McAndrew 2019; Hershenov 2020), it advocates the Autonomy Thesis that argues medicine’s goal is not merely treating disease, but promoting health to enhance autonomy (Christman 2009). It adopts a "positive" notion of health that is more than disease absence (Venkatapuram 2013; Nordenfelt 2017) and establishes its relation with well-being and autonomy. The chapter introduces a pluralistic view of health concept difficulties through the lens of "conceptual engineering" and refutes criticisms suggesting the Autonomy Thesis’s permissiveness. The investigation is confined to "mainstream medicine" (Broadbent 2019, ch. 1) and considers the internal morality of medicine (Brody and Miller 1998; Pellegrino 2001). It strives to define a broad yet rigorous aim of medicine that applies to various branches.

The chapter is dedicated to critically engaging contemporary accounts. It explores views from Pellegrino (2001), Broadbent (2019), and four "list approaches" (Callahan et al. 1996; Brody and Miller 1998; Brülde 2001; Boorse 2016). This is a rather considerable amount of material to delve into in a single chapter, but the aim of the reconstruction is not to do justice to all the details of these accounts; rather it is to focus on examining to what extent they are able to overcome or bypass the challenges faced in Chapter 6 when working towards the final iteration of the Autonomy Thesis. Subjecting these competing views to critical scrutiny is not merely an essentially adversarial procedure, but also a means to assist in framing the proposal presented in the chapter. By inspecting the most relevant aspects of these accounts in light of the challenges considered in Chapter 6, the chapter also provides further reinforcement for the Autonomy Thesis by considering paths that our inquiry chose not to take.