When consent is not enough
Consent is a key aspect of ethical relationships. Consent implies that the individuals in question are both recognised as able to give permission — that they have the capacity for such. Non-human animals, while there is a debate to be had about sentience, cannot give consent — thus the valid prohibition against bestiality. Philosophically this is something to perhaps circle back to in the event that our species ever interacts with extraterrestrial intelligence (that is, aliens).
Our society also recognises that children cannot give consent — the age of consent is the age where our society believes that they are mature enough to give consent. Of course, as this is primarily to prevent the sexual abuse of children, we are flexible concerning children of a comparative age engaging in sexual behaviours. But is consent enough?
To give consent implies, as noted, that one is able to give it. It implies no obvious use of force or coercion. This, of course, is important, as we are well aware of the risk of rape and sexual assault, almost entirely coming from males (although, certainly, men can be and have been victims too). I know very few women who have not experienced either assault or have felt at risk of it or other unwanted sexual interest, which includes catcalls, sexting and the infamous unsolicited nudes of male genitalia. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that every woman has had such experiences.
Technically, under Bermuda’s Criminal Code Act, sexual assault is any non-consensual sexual behaviour, and silence or inability to respond is not consent. There is no statute of limitations around sexual assault; there is no typical victim (it can happen to anyone); and not all sexual assaults are violent attacks.
And while it was not that long ago that some in the judiciary turned a blind eye to marital rape (arguing a spurious position that the marital vows constituted consent), non-consensual sex between married persons is indeed sexual assault.
The prominence given to consent is important. But is it enough? Or, rather, do we need to think wider about what consent entails?
I feel if we are to truly apply consent, we also need to critique certain gender norms in our society. A lot of women are indoctrinated into this idea that they should please their partners, that they should ‘obey’ their partners, that if they don’t “consent” they will be shamed as frigid or a tease or they will be subject to rumours to destroy their reputations.
There are also many women who give consent out of fear of their partners being angry or violent if they don’t, or fear of being left by their partner, especially if they may be financially dependent upon them. As such, there may be “consent”, but the sex itself may be unwanted.
A 1998 study (O’Sullivan & Allgeier) found that 50 per cent of women, and 26 per cent of men have engaged in consensual but unwanted sexual activity. Can it really be consent if one is consenting because of fear, social pressures, dynamics of power or past trauma? How can coerced, structural or performative consent be considered true consent or ethical?
While women are disproportionately the victim under patriarchy, men too are negatively impacted by gender norms. They too can be the victims of sexual assault, and the idea that men are always up for sex can lead to them consenting to unwanted sex for the sake of their masculinity, including false ideas that their masculinity may be proved through sexual conquest. In this, women are also victims, being left to feel as a means to an end rather than a partner. Without a full critique of gender norms and scripts, can there really be true consent under patriarchy?
One may well encounter situations where one’s consent is respected, but not one’s value as a person. In this, consent certainly provides the legal minimum, but it is not necessarily enough to be ethical. What, then, is needed to go beyond consent? I have noted the importance of a critique of gender norms that enable and underlay much problematic sex that may be consensual, but not wanted or ethical.
As such, I would say any relationship needs its constituent members to engage in open and frank critiques of gender norms and scripts around their approach to sex and sexuality. This would certainly serve as a foundation for a more honest and healthy sexuality. It’s important to note here that this all applies equally to non-heterosexual relationships too.
Going beyond consent, this means also embracing the concept of mutual responsibility and interactive desire. By this I mean valuing the other person’s feelings, answering to their needs — responsibility comes from the Latin meaning “to answer”, after all. There must be communication, both active listening to the other and active communication of ones own needs and desires.
All good conversation requires a flow between each participant, both verbal and non-verbal. Respect and care, that is, to truly see the other (respect comes from the Latin ‘to look at’ — it is not fear and awe but to see the other clearly as a unique individual, it implies a lack of exploitation but, rather, a desire for the other person to grow for their own sake, not for the purpose of one’s own needs). There must also be broad equality to avoid fear of consequences. Above all there must be honesty.
Consent is important. It provides the absolute minimum to avoid sexual assault. However, consent is not enough in itself to have ethical relationships. To realise truly loving and ethical relationships we must go far beyond consent and engage in a rigorous critique of not just what gender norms we may have internalised, but also a critique of patriarchy itself and how we relate to each other — are we communicating as a means to an end or to connect with other human beings? It comes down to the question of to have or to be — to “have” a “lover” or to “be” in love.
So, yes, consent is important at a minimum, but it is not enough from an ethical point of view. To quote Erich Fromm: “Joy in sex is experienced only when physical intimacy is at the same time the intimacy of loving.” And joy is the glow that accompanies being.
• Jonathan Starling is a socialist writer with an MSc in Ecological Economics from the University of Edinburgh and an MSc in Urban and Regional Planning from Heriot-Watt University
