Between the no-fault divorce revolution and various court rulings classifying sexual behavior between two adults as a private, intimate matter, some scholars have noted a shift away from traditional morality around sex in conjugal, cohabiting, and dating relationships in family law. The act of sex in a romantic relationship is often perceived as one’s complete liberty without bounds. Many underrate the legal consequences attached to their sexual behavior. However, sex is still the defining consideration that creates legal recognition of a romantic relationship between two people. It creates legal duties to each other and any minor involved in the partnership, irrespective of biological ties, in a relational parentage era. Past and recent court rulings, including rulings from nonmarital, intimate partner violence, and parentage cases, are provided as examples to recount the legal meaning of the act of sex.

This chapter demonstrates how Ibadis, whether merchants or scholars, participated in the everyday legal life of Ottoman Cairo by using its shariah courts. It does so by focusing on two Ibadis living in seventeenth-century Cairo: a merchant named ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz al-Baḥḥār and a scholar named Muḥammad Abī Sitta. The variety of ways in which both men used the court system demonstrates its importance to Ibadi merchants and scholars in the Ottoman period. The chapter’s overarching theme is how Ibadis used the legal tools of Ottoman Cairo, waqf property, and inheritance courts to navigate their everyday lives.

Chapter 3 considers the making into ‘migrants’ of those who moved and asks what it meant for their kinship relations. It looks at processes of migrant-making through encounters at three different scales: nationally (with the British state), locally (with their neighbours, strangers, and other Christians), and transnationally (with their kin), arguing that migration compressed these two historical generations into one ‘migrant’ generation. At the same time, I show how migrants participated in these processes, particularly vis-à-vis their kin and, in doing so, fuelled the latter’s expectations of economic and other support. Central to the discussion are the ways in which the imaginings of migrant and non-migrant kin diverged post-migration, creating friction transnationally. Christianity also features prominently in this chapter, as migrants sought to make sense of their dashed expectations, while seeking means to pursue their aspirations and cultivate a sense of belonging.

Family building is seldom a straight-line march to the finish, even for those fortunate individuals who avoid a detour into the ethical and legal minefield of assisted reproductive technology (ART). Importantly, intended parents and their third-party helpers often lack fundamental information about the parties’ status to any child created – who is a parent, what rights the respective parties possess, and how those rights are protected. Unless appropriately addressed, these issues may contribute to misunderstandings, misperceptions, and confusion, all of which may be laid at the feet of the fertility counselor. In order to practice preemptive crisis management, fertility counselors must recognize risky situations, analyze them with a critical eye, practice within the parameters of competence, ethics, and legal sound stricture, and apply best practice principles. Collaboration with qualified legal practitioners who understand third-party reproduction law is essential to that end.

Britten and Pears regarded their relationship as a ‘marriage’ and described it as such as early as 1943. Although comfortable with using this term privately, they were aware of the legal prohibition and social stigma that prevented them from proclaiming their partnership openly. And yet throughout their nearly forty years together they made no immediate secret among their circle of friends and relatives about living their lives as a couple. As this essay suggests, theirs was a special case, in that they lived their relationship with relative openness among those who knew them. Works such as the Michelangelo Sonnets and Canticle I were a declaration of sorts about the nature of their relationship, although it was not until after the composer’s death that Pears commented overtly in an interview about their love for one another. A decade after the decriminalisation of homosexual acts in the UK, and with social discussion on homosexuality widening, Pears believed that his and Britten’s marriage need no longer be regarded as a secret.

The relation between neutrality and the use of force is better to be kept within the law of armed conflict rather that the law on the use of force between States. This means that the right of self-defence cannot be the indispensable legal basis for the use of force between belligerents and neutrals. On the contrary it appears that neutral due diligence has been relied on as a basis to expand the scope of the right of self-defence. The latter is admissible as the basis for resort to force only in the case of resistance of a neutral State to repel belligerent violation of its territory or by a belligerent that fully complies with its duties under the law of neutrality.

This chapter discusses the political, professional and legal aspects of non-medical prescribing from its inception in the 1990s to the present day. It considers important legal cases that illustrate the key issues of autonomy, negligence and consent and illustrates how these scenarios can impact on prescribing practice on a daily basis. The role of professional regulators is highlighted and the notion that patients/clients are no longer subservient to benign medical paternalism but rather are seen as consumers of healthcare is considered. New educational aspirations are mentioned with a reliance on evidenced-based practice and a holistic humanised approach to care delivery

This chapter introduces the application of phonetics to various legal situations involving speech. In these situations, the identity of a speaker is in question or the linguistic content is disputed. Forensic phonetics focuses on the differences between members of a speech community resulting from physiological differences as well as choices under the speaker’s control (whether conscious or not). While some of this idiosyncrasy is found at the phonological level, the most useful speaker-discriminatory information is often encoded in the fine phonetic detail. It is where such patterns show a good degree of within-speaker consistency and between-speaker difference that the examination of a particular phonetic feature becomes useful in forensic analysis. This chapter considers the place of analysis by ear (by both expert and naïve listeners), the quantitative phonetic analysis of the acoustic signal, as well as automatic methods of analysis. It also considers how best to arrive at a scientifically defensible probabilistic conclusion, and how such conclusions may be communicated in a legal context. Best practice for the teaching and learning of forensic phonetics is also discussed.

The chapter opens with a discussion of what we mean by “rights” in the context of Korea. At its core, this book is about people who seek ways to express their grievances about perceived injustices. While “rights talk” has a rich pedigree in Western scholarship and “human rights” has gained international currency, we use the term “rights” loosely to encompass varied conceptions and subsets (e.g., constitutional rights; human rights; civil, political, social, economic, and cultural rights; citizens’ rights; women’s rights, minority rights), and to give contributors space to define rights in the context of their disciplines and the groups they study. Next, we situate this volume within existing literature on Korea related to democratization, social movements, the judicialization of politics, constitutionalism, and human rights. This volume asks: How have groups used rights language to frame and legitimate their demands in South Korea; in what ways have rights-claiming processes and tactics differed over time and across issues; and what remains fundamentally challenging for groups asserting their rights?

Examining media and historical texts as well as interviews with activists and business-owners, Chapter 1 describes the uproar that ensued when Ghanaian politicians, clerics, and journalists conspired to circulate claims about a supposed “homoconference” that was alledgedly planned by a local LGBTI activist. It lays out the cultural, political, and historical landscape in which (homo)sexuality has been called into discourse. It then considers the failed activist attempts to form a self-identified lesbian group and shows how same-sex desiring women resist, re-signify, or perform the global language of sexual rights activism and human rights. These women’s reluctance to label and “out” themselves in sexual terms, a practice deemed essential to empowering LGBTI subjects across the globe, calls for a close consideration of the indirect language of allusion, spoken within the informal networks of female friends and lovers, who may or may not identify as lesbian.

Chapter 7 analyses legal portrayals of the problem of violence, using the Deuteronomic Code as a case study. Deuteronomy focuses on ‘bloodshed’ (using דם) and its legal and communal consequences. Violence threatens relationships between households in Israel, hence its emphasis on males. But it also creates a problem for the community and its relationship to the land. Deuteronomy communicates that the problem of blood ‘in your midst’ (בקרבך) needs to be ‘expelled’ through judicial processes. The land is always a third party to violent crimes in Deuteronomy. Laws pertaining to refuge cities (Deut 19:1-13), the ‘violent witness’ (19:15-21), unknown perpetrators (Deut 21:1-9), the hanging corpse (21:22-23), and sexual violence (Deut 22:25-27) each reflect a concern to expel violence from the whole community of Israel, and in so doing, from the land. Violence, and the outcry it elicited, signalled the breakdown in the relationships constitutive of a just society, and demanded legal resolution. This is why, at times, the term חמס stands in for a range of potential judicial infractions.