This chapter explores the theory underpinning qualitative methods, namely semi-structured interviews and focus groups, and issues of methodological coherence in adopting a digital approach. We offer an in-depth exploration of the practical considerations of adopting digital methods. This includes the challenges of building a rapport with the participant, familiarity with technology for both researcher and participant, scheduling, and data protection issues. We explore pertinent ethical considerations, including institutional approval, informed consent, confidentiality, and the ongoing ethical responsibilities of the researcher engaged in qualitative research. We draw upon our experiences of using synchronous online videoconferencing platforms to conduct semi-structured interviews and focus groups, integrating our reflections throughout. Whilst necessitated by the Covid-19 pandemic, the associated need for social distancing and the potential for further regional restrictions, we argue that digital methods transcend the current global situation, offering opportunities to facilitate qualitative research that may extend beyond geographical borders, attenuate fiscal limitations, and enable greater collaboration between researchers.

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 examines the law of nullity of marriage to consider how deception has affected the existence or validity of consent. It articulates important differences between void and voidable marriages, arguing that these speak to the public and private sides of marriage, respectively. It also showcases the range of deceptions that have been considered legally significant, situating these within the cultural framework outlined in Chapter 1. On top of this, the chapter argues that the range of qualifying deceptions has often been justified with reference to public policy or convention on the basis that the relevant information would typically be important to an intimate partner or that its disclosure would serve a collective interest or value. The chapter concludes by suggesting that changes in the law of nullity, and a small number of related areas of law, demonstrate that there is still a desire for legal recognition of the wrongs and harms associated with inducing intimate relationships, even as these have shifted over time.

This chapter explores the civil wrong of seduction to establish its nature and parameters and draw out its associations with deception. It argues that, as the earliest legal response to deceptive sex, seduction is in some senses the civil law analogue of later criminal laws. The chapter then shows how the action of seduction was rooted in the idea that deception was wrongful because it was one way of leading a woman off the ‘right’ path and that the harms it caused reflected the gendered significance of marriage and other ‘moral’ forms of intimacy. Furthermore, it highlights how these features of the action provided a framework within which the range of qualifying deceptions was limited and the temporal dimensions of the wrong were set. Finally, the chapter offers some reflections on how the distinctions between private and public introduced in Chapter 1 bore on the decision to keep seduction a civil wrong before foregrounding how these observations, and those made throughout the rest of the chapter, are pertinent to contemporary discussions about criminalising deceptive sex.

This chapter analyses legal responses to three situations: someone pretending to intend marriage, someone entering marriage or a civil partnership for ‘ulterior motives’ and someone entering marriage or a civil partnership when an existing relationship disqualifies them from doing so. It argues that, historically, marriage was used to compensate women who experienced the first form of deception and to punish the men who deceived them; that in ‘ulterior motive’ cases, marriage might have been withheld from the deceptive party; and that bigamy provided legal recognition of the harms and wrongs experienced by duped individuals at the same time as it protected the state’s interest in shoring up marriage. The chapter concludes by arguing that the move away from each of these positions over time means that the extent to which the law protects individuals’ interests in avoiding deceptively induced intimate relationships has decreased. It further argues that this development has implications for how we assess the adequacy of contemporary legal responses to inducing intimacy.

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 decades since the Second World War have seen dramatic shifts in the approved varieties of sexual experience in liberal democracies. Sexuality, once regarded as an intensely private matter, is now on display everywhere, on large and small screens. Effective contraception has made what was once primarily a procreative act into a form of recreation, available to both heterosexual and same-sex couples. From being regarded as a privilege of marriage in the 1950s, today access to sex might be regarded as a right. An extreme form of this belief might be seen in the “Incel” movement. Cohesive community ideals about sexuality within marriage disintegrated in the post-war world responding to growing demands to respect a diversity of individual desires. Democracies which hold to faith traditions promote a more traditional view of sex as contained within marriage. The promotion of a responsible sex life has become part of the commitment of many secular liberal democracies to ensure the health and welfare of citizens, particularly in light of AIDS and HPV. Countries have put laws in place to protect citizens from sexual abuse. The global nature of the digital realm, however, makes sexually exploitative visual material difficult to police.

Advances in biomarker science are transforming the treatment of Alzheimer’s disease. First, clinicians can now identify Alzheimer’s disease neuropathology in situ, years, or even decades, before the onset of cognitive and functional impairment using biomarkers, particularly measures of amyloid, tau, and neurodegeneration. Second, there is growing evidence that other digital markers – for instance, changes in banking and driving patterns – can be used to identify older adults at increased risk of cognitive decline. As a result of these two advances, there is growing interest in monitoring older adults for incipient changes in cognition that might affect their wellbeing. This monitoring can be no-tech, such as when an older adult asks a friend or family member to let them know if they start repeating questions or retelling stories. Or it can be high-tech, such as installing a device in one’s car that tracks sudden accelerations and decelerations and the distance traveled from home. While there is great enthusiasm for this kind of monitoring among clinicians and researchers, and even, as our own research shows, among some older adults and their family members, other older adults deem monitoring to be an unwanted intrusion on their privacy. This chapter discusses the changing understanding of Alzheimer’s disease risk; presents data on the desire for monitoring, highlighting the potential for intrafamilial conflict; considers the ethical obligations of non-health businesses to collect or disclose information about Alzheimer’s disease risk; and, finally, identifies potential ethical and legal challenges – such as privacy, stigma, and discrimination – with possible solutions.

This chapter considers EU data protection law, most notably Regulation 2016/679, the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR). The GDPR governs the processing of data that identifies an individual or makes her identifiable. It sets out circumstances when the process is lawful. The most notable of these is that the individual consented to it; processing is necessary to perform a task in the public interest or in the exercise of official authority; or the data is required for the pursuit of a party’s legitimate interests unless the fundamental rights of the individual overrides these interests. Individuals have a number of rights in respect of their personal data. These include the right to information about it and to access it, and to rectify inaccurate or incomplete personal data. Arguably, most contentiously, the individual can have the data erased if she withdraws her consent or the data is no longer necessary for the purposes for which it was processed. This right must be balanced against other interests, most notably the freedom of others to expression and information.