What Are Scottish Juries Actually Told About “Rape Myths”?

Our earlier article, Built Into the Directions, looked at where these directions come from, the authority claimed for them, and the fairness issues that follow. This piece answers the obvious next question: what are juries actually being told, and what are the “rape myths” these directions are designed to address?

That matters because this is not a side issue. These directions are drawn from the Scottish Jury Manual and related statutory directions, and they go to the message put before jurors in some of the most serious criminal trials in Scotland. They go to what jurors are warned against assuming, and to how the evidence is meant to be approached.

In simple terms, juries in Scottish sexual offence trials may be told not to judge an allegation by relying on certain assumptions about how a “real” rape would look, how a “real” victim would behave, or what would count as suspicious.

In practice, that means directions aimed at assumptions about delayed reporting, lack of injury, lack of resistance, prior relationships, and the way a complainer presents in evidence.

Put bluntly, jurors are being told not to start from the idea that an allegation is doubtful simply because it does not fit an older or more familiar script of what rape looks like, how a victim behaves, or when a complaint is made.

One of the clearest directions concerns delay.

Jurors may be told not to assume that a complaint is unreliable or false simply because it was not made immediately. The point of that direction is plain enough. A delay in reporting is not, on its own, proof that nothing happened.

That addresses one of the central assumptions now treated as a rape myth, the idea that a genuine complaint would always be made straight away.

Jurors may also be told not to assume that rape or sexual assault would always involve physical violence, visible injury, shouting, or active resistance.

The direction here is that the absence of force or injury does not settle the question of consent. Nor does passivity, freezing, or a failure to resist physically.

Again, the target is clear. It is the assumption that a “real” rape would always be obvious, violent and physically demonstrable.

Jurors may also be directed not to assume that because two people knew each other, were in a relationship, or had consensual sex before, consent can be inferred on the occasion charged.

The point here is that consent is treated as specific to the particular act, at the particular time, in the particular circumstances. It is not something that automatically carries over from the past.

That addresses another common assumption, that rape is mainly something done by strangers, or that an existing relationship makes an allegation of non-consent inherently less plausible.

The directions also go beyond reporting and consent. Jurors may be told there is no typical rape, no typical offender, no typical victim, no typical response, and no typical way a complainer will present in court.

That means jurors are being warned not to measure credibility against a stock image of how a truthful complainer should look, sound or behave. A witness may be distressed. They may be calm. They may speak about events immediately. They may not. The direction is designed to stop jurors treating one emotional style or one pattern of behaviour as the benchmark for truthfulness.

Once the slogan is stripped away, the assumptions being targeted are broadly these:

• that a genuine victim would always report immediately
• that rape always involves force, injury, shouting, or determined resistance
• that passivity, silence, or lack of injury points to consent
• that people in relationships cannot rape each other
• that a truthful complainer will behave in one expected and recognisable way

• that a calm or emotionally flat presentation strongly suggests fabrication

• that false allegations are so common they should be treated as an obvious starting point

That is the substance of it. When courts refer to “rape myths”, they are talking about assumptions of that kind.

At one level, this is easy to understand. Criminal trials should not be decided by cliché. A delayed complaint is not automatically false. Lack of injury is not proof of consent. A calm witness is not automatically dishonest. A prior relationship does not settle what happened on the occasion charged.

All of that is fair enough.

But that is not the end of the issue. It is the start of it.

The harder question is what happens once the court moves from saying jurors should avoid prejudice to giving them a structured set of warnings about lines of reasoning they are being told to distrust.

Delay may have an innocent explanation. But delay may still matter.

Absence of injury may prove little on its own. But physical circumstances may still matter.

There may be no single “normal” reaction. But behaviour, timing, inconsistency and context may still matter.

A prior relationship does not prove consent. But the actual history between two people may still matter to the allegation being tried.

That is where the fairness issue begins. The real question is not whether juries should be told to avoid lazy stereotypes. Of course they should. The question is whether directions framed as safeguards against prejudice can also steer jurors away from lines of reasoning that may, in some cases, be legitimate, relevant and important to the defence.

The concern is not that prejudice is being challenged. The concern is whether the balancing exercise ends up operating in one direction only.

Is the jury equally warned against assumptions that favour the allegation?

Is it equally reminded that sympathy is not evidence?

Is it equally directed that credibility must still be tested carefully, that inconsistencies still matter, that contamination still matters, that motive still matters, that investigative failures still matter, and that the burden remains entirely on the Crown?

Those questions matter because liberty is at stake. A direction that tells jurors to discard one kind of flawed reasoning may be entirely proper. But if it is not matched by equal care for the rights of the accused, it risks becoming something more than a warning against stereotype. It risks shaping the path by which the evidence is judged.

The point is no longer simply that these directions exist. They do. The point is what they do inside a trial.

They tell jurors not to assume that delay means falsity. They tell jurors not to assume that lack of force means consent. They tell jurors not to assume that a relationship rules out rape. They tell jurors not to expect one standard emotional response. More broadly, they tell jurors to set aside a whole cluster of familiar inferences before they assess credibility and guilt.

Some of those warnings may be sensible. Some may be necessary. But none of them should be treated as beyond scrutiny, not in a criminal court, not in a contested case, and not where a person’s liberty may turn on how a jury is directed to reason.

That is why this matters. Not because anyone wants juries to reason from stereotype, but because a fair system should not correct one risk by quietly embedding another.

And once you see what juries are actually being told, the next question becomes unavoidable. Who is protecting the accused from the assumptions the court itself is now building into the trial?

Further Reading:
Jury Manual Rape Myth Directions

Written by the Accused.scot Editorial

26.03.2026

Editorial note: Accused.scot is an independent commentary site focused on justice process, evidence, and fair-trial principles in Scotland. Our work critiques systems, policy, and public discourse, not private individuals. We welcome reasoned challenge to our arguments. We do not engage in personal disputes or online pile-ons.