Marina Strinkovsky explores the arguments surrounding ‘sex work’.
Photo used under creative commons licence by anm4a
It is difficult to add anything new to the debate surrounding the ethical & legal status of sex work or prostitution (the very terminology one uses is heavily freighted with political meaning). The conversation is voluminous, highly polarised, and tends to lack nuance. A relatively minor, though still highly contested, area for debate is that which surrounds consent.
On their face the claims of both sex work advocates and abolitionists or Nordic model supporters are logical. On the one hand, it is a nonsense to suppose that all women engaged in selling sex are coerced beyond any capacity to give informed consent. To deny women (and men) agency to this degree is in some sense to deny their humanity, and is bad progressive politics. On the other, it is equally undeniable that in any other context sex that is engaged in without desire, or even contrary to desire or sexual attraction, is not fully consenting sex and the addition of economic coercion will often push even sexual transactions that don’t involve out and out force or trafficking into the category of rape.
The irreconcilable nature of these claims comes, it seems to me, from a lack of exactitude in using the word “consent”. In the pro-sex work narrative, consent does the work of describing the sex worker’s actions – whether or not she or he knowingly & consciously entered into an agreement to perform certain sex acts. In the abolitionist view, consent stands for the internal state of wanting or desiring sex; a psychological condition similar to appetite or tiredness, not susceptible to generating on demand & therefore not tradable for money.
A useful example from another area of life where people enter into an agreement – usually by signing a document – that we talk about in the language of informed consent is the medical context. Onora O’Neill describes consent to surgery as a temporary withdrawal of the norm by which we do not accept people doing physical harm to each other. It is only in a very specific set of circumstances that we would allow anyone to cut us, remove parts of our organs and so on. Consent in this context signifies that we are prepared to temporarily give up out right to bodily non-harm for the purposes of some greater good to ourselves.
Feminists and sex positive thinkers talk about consent in a very different way. For them, the lack of a “no” is not consent; simply saying (or implying) “I allow you for the time being to use my body in a way that would, without this act of consent on my part, constitute rape” is not enough. The enthusiastic consent model advocates for an active desire of behalf of both partners to engage in sex, not just a lack of or temporary withdrawal of reluctance.
These two ways of thinking about consent collide within the sex work context. I would like to quote Charlotte Shane, a sex worker writing for the blog “Tits and Ass”:
“It’s rare that I give authentic “enthusiastic consent” while I’m working. And that’s how I prefer it. […] Explicit instructions that I be enthusiastic on top of being willing is one of the worst parts of the job for me. It’s the closest I ever come to feeling humiliated while working, because my enthusiasm in this case isn’t about me at all; it’s about their egos and their need to feel desired. But I’m a real human being, and my personal, authentic desires deserve better than to be exploited by a man I’ve just met.”
The tension here is the one feminists have often pointed to, between the desire to perform a job for money (which is really a desire or need for the money) and a desire to perform the actions that job consists of for personal pleasure. One such example was given to me by another sex worker, and is the title of this piece: “I wouldn’t do your filing for free, so why should I have sex for free?”. I think there is a nuance in Shane’s position that this view lacks:
On the one hand, filing doesn’t hurt me; on the other, there is no scenario in which I would simply perform filing for pleasure. Certainly I would not perform it for the pleasure of anyone else. In fact it is difficult to conceive, except in very specific fetish situations, situations in which most if not all of the “regular jobs” sex work gets compared to would be performed for pleasure without the need for either a wage (in the case of the worker) or a profit (in the case of the capitalist). It is very difficult, if not impossible, to truly find an occupation analogous to sex work within the realm of wage employment.
If we apply the medical consent model to the selling of sex acts, the analogy becomes even more strained; since very few if any jobs implicitly require that the worker suspend their right to avoidance of harm. Of course on some views all alienated labour is harmful, but in that case sex work is no different and we are back to square one; in reality most jobs are either not harmful by design, or, if they contain elements of potential harm, employers and the state mitigate against those harms with various initiatives and regulations. It is true to say, as sex work advocates often do, that all wage workers to a degree “sell their bodies” to their employers, in the narrow sense that the physical presence & functions of our body are at the employers’ disposal. However it does not seem to me correct to stop there, and we should distinguish between selling our labour and giving up our right to the avoidance of harm by providing consent in the medical sense.
This relies on agreement that sex in which one does not wish to engage is a harm in itself (without interrogating whether it is necessarily harmful, a rabbit hole of claims & counter claims of psychiatric conditions and traumas that leads nowhere and gets emotive very quickly). A feminist view, and indeed a human rights view I think, would say that yes, involving our body in an intimate activity we would normally do for pleasure when we do not wish or enjoy it is a harm. This does not deny sex workers the agency of waiving their right to the avoidance of this harm, and is not in itself at all a sufficient argument for abolition of the sex trade, but it is nevertheless an important way in which sex work is not “just like other job”, and is something we should think closely on before we rush to normalise it.
Space does not allow for a full examination of a different analogy, that between sex work and art. It would be a better comparison to say that artists can and do involve their bodies in strenuous activities that they and others would also perform for pleasure, such as dancing, playing instruments etc. There is an intimacy to creating art that is a better fit for sex work than regular engagement with the wave employment of the consumer economy. However here we encounter different challenges, in that art, in stark contrast to sex work, is a high status occupation to which people mostly turn as a vocation and not because of economic need. So while the fundamentals of what is going on with our bodies – and therefore the nuances of consent – may be more similar, the social and economic contexts are sufficiently different to make a close comparison problematic.
Even more problematic is the gender context of sex work; for while advocates of full legalisation like to speak of it in gender neutral language, in reality it is a business that exists almost entirely for the service of men (even when those providing the service are men themselves) and relies deeply on the usually unspoken assumption that men have a “right” to have their sexual needs fulfilled. That this assumption is almost never explicitly applied to women speaks of a deep inequality at the basis of the sex industry that, again, we would have to deeply and critically examine and possibly dismantle before the full legalisation and normalisation of sex work would be advisable. There is of course a view on which if the belief that men’s sexual urges are fundamental, urgent and have a right to be satisfied disappears, the demand for the trade will disappear with it; it’s hard to speculate however on whether prostitution can exist in the absence of the kinds of power imbalance that colours it at present.
Another area where rights rhetoric is applied to sex work is the right of consenting adults to engage in what occupations they like and to do with each other whatever they like as long as they are not hurting anyone else. To go back to Onora O’Neill’s argument about surgery for a moment, this is an excellent example of where society absolutely does and should limit the ability of consenting adults to engage in certain activities. We don’t and shouldn’t just let people operate on each other, or decide that they are Formula 1 drivers and the local school run is their Monaco. Working in a specific job is not a human right – consenting adults are forbidden to do all kinds of stuff by custom and law. The custom underlying the criminalisation of prostitutes themselves is clearly based on a misguided moralistic tradition, and we should look to supplant it with a more measured policy approach that does not stigmatise or harm women and men engaged in the industry; however, what exactly this approach should be in its details is a more complicated question than the campaigners for no-strings-attached full legalisation will admit.
I can’t believe more people haven’t commented or “liked” this.
“society absolutely does and should limit the ability of consenting adults to engage in certain activities. We don’t and shouldn’t just let people operate on each other, or decide that they are Formula 1 drivers and the local school run is their Monaco. Working in a specific job is not a human right – consenting adults are forbidden to do all kinds of stuff by custom and law.”
I get that government “crackdowns” are frowned upon in the land of the free, but time has proven again and again that *too much* freedom is unnecessary, and actually counterproductive. You need *enough* freedom to do what you like while a structure in place protects you from being harmed by the freedom of others.
We are more a danger to ourselves than anyone else is to us, because we determine the lengths we will go to for the things we desire without even realizing the inherent detriments. We have a hard time imagining the other side of the fence: a world not dominated by male desire, without prostitution/porn (same thing).
But that doesn’t mean it’s implausible, or *not better*.
Thanks for running this blog. Your assertions are very level-headed and incredibly refreshing amidst all the extremist shouting from both ends of the spectrum. Thanks for being fair and critical, in both senses of the word.
I have so many problems with this post, but will aim to address them all in my own post. For now:
“This relies on agreement that sex in which one does not wish to engage is a harm in itself (without interrogating whether it is necessarily harmful, a rabbit hole of claims & counter claims of psychiatric conditions and traumas that leads nowhere and gets emotive very quickly). A feminist view, and indeed a human rights view I think, would say that yes, involving our body in an intimate activity we would normally do for pleasure when we do not wish or enjoy it is a harm”.
I would say categorically: no. “Having sex you don’t wish to engage in” is rape. Or extreme coercion. And of course that is wrong.
‘Intimate activity’ places more importance on sexual activity than many agree with. One might only have sex in a marriage, another may frequently have sex with multiple lovers on nights out.
There are many situations where people have sex when they don’t feel desire, and when they don’t enjoy it. They still consent and have the right to have sex without their agency being belittled. An asexual party can still engage in sex; someone with loss of sensation can still have sex; a party may be in the mood, and the other has sex to please them; having sex may be mechanic and for simply producing a baby.
This whole argument has the premise that there is something ‘special’ about sex, and that accepting payment for sexual services is inherently harmful. I would argue that it is the stigma that is harmful.
The same arguments put forward in this post could easily be used by pro-life campaigners, anti gay, anti trans, or Christian Evangelicals. That others shouldn’t be allowed to have the rights over their own body, and that ‘we’ know what is best for ‘them’.
I shall address all my points in detail. I found the post extremely well written, and the author very intelligent, but thought it was misleading, especially as Shane has been completely misquoted to fit the agenda of the author.
Just to clarify, my whole argument is premised on the idea that there is precisely *nothing* special about sex. An intimate activity can be anything involving the body in a private situation – a massage, a haircut, medical treatment and so on. All of those are currently more closely regulated than sex work, in countries where it is fully legalised as well as in countries where it is illegal.
As things currently stand, there is special pleading being made for having sex in exchange for money, as if it is materially different and in some way specifically less intimate than, say, a visit to the dentist. Those tend to be the arguments used against e.g. compulsory registration and regulation of sex workers.
I think one needs to admit that one cannot have it both ways: sexual acts are either special, or they are not. If they are not, then practitioners need to submit themselves to the same analysis of potential harms, to the same insurance regulations as other practitioners who are closely involved in their work with their own and other people’s bodies, and to scrutiny from society.
One of the perpetual thorny problems with this debate is exactly what you’ve just done – insisting that sex is just another job on the one hand, and crying “stigamtisation” when someone tried to analyse it as if it really was just that.
Nice use of a straw man argument.
No, your whole argument is about inherent harm, using the medical model to explain sex work, and a lack of desire meaning true consensual sex can not take place.
If an act is consensual when done for free, then the exchange of money or goods can not automatically render it ‘wrong’ or ‘abuse’.
A woman has the rights over her own body. If I chose to sell a sexual service, or appear in an adult film, or dance in a lap dancing club, that is my right.
To ban sex work because some sex workers are sadly abused, would be akin to banning all penetrative sex because rape occurs.
Sex work is authentic work, I cannot compare different jobs. The stigma is inherently harmful and why so many sex workers are attacked. The Merseyside Model is the way forward.
Sex workers do not want legalisation. They want decriminalization. They want, as consenting adults, to have sex with who they wish, whether for free, or payment.
If one can go out tonight and have sex with a guy picked up in a club, (one might be drunk, one might get no enjoyment, one may not respect me) then why one not charge for a sexual service?
The pro-lifers could use the exact same arguments you are using. We own our bodies, or we don’t.
Also to clarify, sex work is not illegal is the UK. Various aspects are, but the selling of sex is not.
Emotional labour occurs in most jobs if that is what you mean by intimacy? I don’t see special provisions to regulate shop workers, cleaners, factory staff, models. You don’t need a qualification to provide sexual services as you do to be a dentist, doctor, hairdresser, beauty therapist, hence no need for regulation.