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How Prostitution Became the World’s Most Modern Profession
Posted on Sep 7, 2016
By Kajsa Ekis Ekman
When it came to light that the vice president of one of the “sex-workers organizations” consulted by Amnesty International over its prostitution policy was a sentenced human trafficker and pimp, many abolitionists were appalled, but not surprised. “Sex-workers rights” has increasingly become a euphemism for the rights of pimps, brothel owners and men who pay for sex.
The “sex work” discourse has turned the world’s oldest profession into the world’s most modern profession. Prostitution is no longer seen as a feudal, patriarchal remnant—it is subversive, liberating, even feminist. To the women’s movement, prostitution was sold as a woman’s right to her own body; to neoliberals, as a symbol of the free market; to the left, as “sex work” needing unions and labor laws; to conservatives, as a private agreement between two consenting individuals outside of society’s interference; to the LGBT movement, as sexuality demanding its right to expression.
Prostitution has become a chameleon, adapting itself to all ideologies. And when the left embraces prostitution as “work,” it is without the Marxist understanding of work as something inherently alienating that should be abolished, and that results in the loss of the worker’s capacity to determine his or her own life. Also absent is the awareness of how capitalism expands incessantly into more and more dimensions of our lives, causing us to view our bodies and minds as nothing but commodities.
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The Dutch government founded the Red Thread. It was marketed as a trade union for “sex workers,” but since its inception it has been funded by state money, and its leadership has always comprised sociologists rather than people in prostitution. Hotels in Amsterdam hand out brochures to tourists, reassuring them they are not to feel guilty about paying for sex, since “many” prostitutes belong to the Red Thread union. References to it became almost compulsory in feminist anthologies from the 1980s onward. And yet the Red Thread never had more than 100 members, never had a dispute with a single brothel, and its representatives, such as sociologist Jan Visser and author/academic Sietske Altink, had no experience of prostitution.
And as the sex industry grew worldwide, the sex-work discourse achieved hegemonic status. Segments of the left and the feminist movement swallowed the propaganda hook, line and sinker: To fight for prostitution was to fight for freedom. This is strange indeed.
A hundred years ago, the fight against prostitution was crucial to both the labor and women’s movements. Remember the British docker union’s classic posters, which proclaimed, “We shall not cease until all destitution, prostitution and capitalism is swept away” and ”An injury to one is an injury to all”? It was apparent to the male dock workers that prostitution sentenced their sisters of the working class to be used by upper-class men, and they were not going to let that happen. The women’s movement took up the fight against prostitution before it even demanded the right to vote: to get rid of the slave trade was the most urgent matter.
Prostitution has not changed. It is the same industry, the same rich men buying poor women, the same exploitation, the same violence and the same trafficking (then referred to as the white slave trade). What has changed is the label. As Sonia Sanchez, an Argentinian survivor of prostitution, writes: “This is a feminism which is very useful for the pimps ... a movement without any movement, run almost exclusively by academics, far from popular feminism.”
I spent four years traveling Europe and researching the “sex work” organizations for my book, “Being and Being Bought.” I saw the same pattern repeatedly: a “sex work” organization with a fancy website and impressive online presence, boasting hundreds or thousands of members with sex-work experience, would in reality consist of three people having coffee. This was the case, for example, with the group Les Putes (now called STRASS) in France.
Another recurring situation would involve academics and nongovernmental organization workers composing the whole board, while a single person in the organization would have experience in prostitution. This person, of course, would be the one speaking to the media, as with the ICRSE. There was not even one prostituted person in the Spanish organization Ambit Dóna, despite its claim to “stand up for the right to be whores.” Sometimes, existing trade unions would open a chapter for people in prostitution, as with the Confederación Sindical de Comisiones Obreras (CCOO), the largest trade union in Spain, or the German ver.di, with meager results. Not a single person in prostitution joined the CCOO. The German union branch for sex workers told me it “never had more than a few members” and had never had any industrial dispute, despite the fact that Germany’s prostitution industry is the biggest in Europe, with more than a million people selling sex every day.
Equally disappointing were the results of Germany’s legalization: Only 1 percent had registered as “sex workers.” When the German state’s official inquiry asked why, many women in prostitution replied that they hoped to get out of prostitution as soon as they could and did not want to see it as more than a temporary solution.
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