We-Consent is the new app that lets you say 'yes' to sex... is it useful or just plain creepy?

Apps solve many problems — many of which you didn’t even realise were problems to begin with. They streamline your life, preclude boredom on the most tedious of commutes and direct you from A to B in the strangest of cities.

But they are not the answer to every problem. And especially, they are not an adequate substitute for independent thought, intelligence or ethics — the machines haven’t risen yet. But every so often an app is introduced to the market that makes us contemplate this line and how close we hover above it.

This week the issue is around so-called “consent apps”. Specifically, We-Consent, which invites partners to film 20-second videos on their smartphones, stating the name of the person they are about to have sex with and recording the faces of both parties. Unless the camera detects human faces and both parties say yes, clearly, the recording will stop and the users are advised against continuing. The video, according to the app’s website, “creates a seven-year encrypted record of a mutual ‘yes’, available only to law enforcement, upon judicial order, or as evidence in a college or university sexual assault disciplinary proceeding”. It is designed for a US market but it is estimated that it has been downloaded by at least 100 UK users.

Obviously, this is a blunt instrument. First, it pinpoints consent to a single moment, which does not allow for someone changing their mind at any stage. It does not allow for the possibility that one party has been coerced. Rape Crisis says that the app “throws up concerns”.

“This is about context,” insists Michael Lissack, a former Wall Street banker turned philosophy professor who has developed the app. “This is a prop — just because you have your phone doesn’t mean you choose to run [the app]. But it might mean you choose to talk about it.”

He argues that the context for the app has been misunderstood — that it has been created in response to a specific US law: “the standard of affirmative consent” (in other words, yes — and only yes — means yes) which is required “for everything that you do, every step of the way. That is the context in which this starts.” He’s defensive and combative when I make the point that consent can be withdrawn at any point — he remarks that this is the issue the “British press” has mistakenly seized on, and directs me to a second app in the We-Consent package: the “no” app, which he argues is intended for those circumstances.

“You reach for your phone, you flick the button, show the screen to the person you’re with and a policeman appears. And the policeman says: ‘You were told “no”. A video of that “no” has been recorded and saved. What is it about the word no that you do not understand? No means no.’ This video is also encrypted and saved in the cloud.”

I suggest that this scenario seems unlikely. I also make the point that for various reasons, you might not be able to use your phone. He is dismissive. For him, the point is to create a conversation around rape and “unwanted sexual encounters”.

“This is a tool that is contributing to making societal change. We’re not looking for anything instant — you can’t do anything instant. And again, this is not for any particular encounter. This is about giving the tools necessary for the changes that need to occur, and the change that needs to occur is conversation.” Indeed, though he dismisses education as a credible approach. “So now you want to turn college into a once-a-week sex education class?”

We-Consent isn’t the first app of its kind. Last September, many were outraged by the launch of Good2Go, which claims to “educate young adults by teaching them the language of affirmative consent”. The mission statement on its website is sinister and cheesy by turns (“When boy meets girl and sparks fly, and you need an answer to the question: are we good to go?”). The app claims to teach “how to ask for and give affirmative consent”. Hit it and a screen opens up: “Are we Good2Go?” Options include “No, thanks”, “Yes, but… we need to talk” and “I’m Good2Go”. There are also questions about levels of sobriety and consent in spite of them, which complicates matters. Again, it’s a blunt technological instrument — conversation about consent cannot be digitally resolved.

There’s also What About No and the Consent Conscious kit, sold online for £2, and which includes a paper contract, “Yes! We agree to have sex!” — couples must sign, date and then take a time-stamped photo or film a video holding it.

Consent is nuanced, whereas apps are built on systematic codes and functions. It is difficult to see where the two could ever meet. Conversation is to be encouraged, but there isn’t really an app for that.

@phoebeluckhurst