Tag Archives: Sexuality

Men, Women and Consent

Posted by on January 11, 2013 5 comments

A little while ago I flagged up a new interactive philosophy experiment that deals with issues of consent. It’s now been completed by well over a thousand people, and it’s throwing up some interesting results. In particular, and I can’t say I find it surprising, there seems to be a quite a large difference between how men and women view consent.

(What’s to follow will make more sense if you complete the activity before reading.)

I’ve analysed the responses to two of the scenarios featured in the experiment. The first asks whether you would be doing something wrong if you went ahead with a sexual encounter in the knowledge that your partner would almost certainly come to regret it later. The second asks whether you would be doing something wrong if you went ahead with a sexual encounter in the knowledge that your partner (a) had been drinking (albeit they remain cogent); and (b) would not have consented to the sexual encounter if they hadn’t been drinking.

The data shows that 68% of women, compared to only 58% of men, think it would be wrong to go ahead with the sexual encounter in the Future Regret case. And that 79% of women, compared to only 70% of men, think it would be wrong to go ahead in the Alcohol case.

These results are easily statistically significant, although, as always, I need to point out that the sample is not representative, and that there might be confounding variables in play (e.g., it’s possible that there are systematic differences between the sorts of males and females who have completed this activity – e.g., age).

Sex When Drunk – A Moral Dilemma

Posted by on August 29, 2012 102 comments

Here’s a very quick moral dilemma. I’d be interested to hear what people think about this situation.

Let’s assume that in the absence of previously established consent (as, for example, might exist between a married couple), it’s morally wrong to have sex with somebody if they’ve ingested some X  amount of alcohol (because it undermines their ability to give informed consent). For the purposes of this dilemma, it doesn’t matter what this amount is – just that there is some amount.

Okay, so this is the twist. Suppose somebody says this to you:

I want to want to have sex with you, but I never want sex unless I’m high or drunk. I can’t relax and I don’t enjoy it. But look, I’ll start drinking, and hopefully there will come a point where my inhibitions are sufficiently lowered and I’m relaxed enough so that we can go ahead. But realize I’m not consenting right now to have sex with you later, I’m simply telling you that I’m making the choice to drink in the hope that I will come to want sex later on. If that happens, I’ll let you know, but it might not.

This person then starts drinking, ingests some X + 1 amount of alcohol (i.e., past the point at which under normal circumstances you would consider it wrong to have sex with them), and then tells you they are ready to have sex with you.

We need to get clear about a few things before posing the (obvious) question.

First, this person is not approaching unconsciousness, they are able to reflect reasonably cogently on their desire to have sex with you, but it’s counterfactually true that in the absence of the alcohol, they would not have consented, and also that this would be true of some non-trivial percentage of other people who had drunk this much, even in the absence of the particular psychological dynamic that exists here. (I realize that this stipulation might conflict with the claim that it doesn’t matter for the purposes of this dilemma at what point alcohol undermines the ability to consent. If you think this happens when somebody approaches unconsciousness, then just assume it’s been stipulated that it occurs earlier than that.)

Second, this person would deny that they are psychologically vulnerable. They would be offended if anybody suggested that they were being taken advantage of just because they never want sex while sober. They know their own mind – they want to want to have sex.

Third, you have no particular reason to think they will come to regret any sexual encounter that takes place. They might, but they might not.

So the question is:

In this situation, would it be wrong to go ahead with the sexual encounter, and if so, why?

No hugs please, we’re atheists

Posted by on July 11, 2012 169 comments

Over at In Living Color, Jean Kazez has a post in which she comments on the new code of conduct adopted by American Atheists to guide attendees at its conventions in the difficult task of keeping themselves nice.

Jean approves of some of the code of conduct (I’m not so sure I do , but we’ll leave that for another day), while expressing her disapproval of one particular passage that reads as follows:

You are encouraged to ask for unequivocal consent for all activities during the conference. No touching other people without asking. This includes hands on knees, backs, shoulders — and hugs (ask first!). There are folks who do not like to be touched and will respect and like you more if you respect their personal space.

I think it’s worth quoting at some length to convey just what she finds impractical and offensive about this:

What exactly is wrong with negotiating these things as we do the rest of the time – by paying attention to non-verbal cues? It’s better that way, most of us think. We don’t go through life constantly asking “I haven’t seen you for a long time – may I hug you?” Or “I’d like to show solidarity and sympathy – may I touch your arm as I say this next sentence?” We don’t, because (let us count the problems) -

(1) If we explicitly asked, then we’d put the person we want to touch/hug in the awkward position of having to say “no” if they don’t want to be touched/hugged. It would have been so much more thoughtful to notice the cues and not call attention to their sensitivity.

(2) If we had to explicitly ask, we’d ruin spontaneity – so most of us would just do less touching and hugging.

(3) If we asked, it would highlight what is better left subterranean – that touching has some mild sexual undertones, touching is ever so slightly intimate, touching can be gross to some people, some people may find me in particular gross.

If I were thinking of going to an American Atheists convention (to be honest, I am not), I’d find it off-putting to be told how to negotiate touching (“no touching other people without asking”) or even just be “encouraged to ask for unequivocal consent.” This crosses the line from what’s the conference’s business [...] to what’s not. It’s up to me, I think, how I handle the vast number of decisions that are in the realm of etiquette, not law or even ethics. I’d be appalled if a conference organizer issued instructions about what to say after belching, whether and when to hold doors for other people, when to address someone by their first name, etc. It’s paternalistic and infantilizing – suitable for managing a bunch of 10 year olds, but not for running a conference attended by adults.

It’s interesting that a lot of the opposition to the current push from some directions to create detailed and intrusive codes of conduct to try to control our behaviour is coming from women who resent being infantilised. This plays against the narrative that codes of conduct are being developed for good feminist reasons. I would say, in fact, that the suspicion of these codes is motivated largely by feminist concerns that all this officiousness is providing just one more opportunity to infantilise women, who are portrayed as mentally weak and socially incompetent.

In any event, Jean goes on to talk about the contrast with religious communities, where, as she puts it, “there is constant touching between acquaintances.” She mentions the reform Jewish temple that she sometimes attends, describing it “an extremely touchy place” … and adding:

Before, during, and after the service you see constant physical interaction. Ask permission? You’ve got to be kidding. There is also a lot of synchronization – people stand up and sit down at the same times during the service. All this synching and touching is part of feeling collective joy, sorrow, etc. – all feelings evoked at times by a religious service.

But it’s not just (some) religious communities that are “extremely touchy” in this way. As I mentioned in the comments on one of Jeremy Stangroom’s recent posts on the ethics of hugging, the science fiction community (whose conventions I’ve been attending for over 30 years now) tends to foster the physical expression of warmth and goodwill through hugging and touching – and from my more limited experience the same probably applies to other literary and artistic communities. About five weeks ago now, I attended Continuum 8, the 2012 national science fiction convention in Australia, which seemed to be highly successful. Many people (of both sexes) commented afterwards on what an enjoyable convention it was, and part of what they liked so much was the feeling of warmth and goodwill among the attendees, often expressed through physical affection.

I suspect, but can’t prove, that this is driven in part by a feeling among the attendees of such conventions that, “These are my people!” If you are closely involved in literature and the arts, you may have a feeling of being under siege, to some extent, in a wider world that can, rightly or wrongly, seem hostile. At a convention of “your people” there is special feeling of community, camaraderie, and solidarity. For whatever reason, literary and artistic communities tend to build up such feelings, expressed in relatively free displays of physical affection such as hugs. This includes hugs between heterosexual people of the same sex – literary and artistic communities sometimes have a polyamorous vibe going on, but it’s certainly not just that.

Seen from that point of view, a code of conduct that explicitly problematises hugging is a bad idea. It starts to undermine the very solidarity and mutuality that you’d think an atheist group in America (where atheists really are somewhat under siege in many parts of the country) would want. A conduct provision like this sends a paradoxical message to convention goers who are forging something of community, much as science fiction professionals and fans have forged a community over, say, the last sixty years.

It’s true, of course, that some people dislike physical contact and do not want to take part in hugging and the like. Fine, this is the sort of thing that has to be negotiated, much as Jean Kazez describes. But it isn’t all that difficult to convey through body language that you are one of those people who, for whatever reason, do not want to be hugged or otherwise touched by others. There is no reason to have a policy that infantilises us at all by suggesting that we are helpless to navigate these familiar social situations.

In all, the anti-hug policy is intrusive, infantilising, officious, badly thought through, and generally, to say the least, unfortunate – not to mention impractical, as it applies beyond hugging to many forms of socially accepted rather minimal touching that lose their point if they must be preceded by words asking permission (Adam touches Ben on the back of the shoulder to attract his attention to say hello, Jill flirtatiously touches Jack on the elbow while they’re caught up in an intense, wonderful conversation, Steve gives Eve a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder after she’s just had a bad experience right in front of him, etc., etc.).

The policy makes American Atheists – and atheists more generally – look silly. It suggests an undue suspicion of physical interaction and the body that you’d think might be more the province of religion (though clearly not all religion, as above with Jean Kazez’s description of her reform Jewish temple). It also suggests a kind of clanking, clueless literal-mindedness about how human interaction actually works, playing into the unfair stereotype of atheists as socially challenged dorks. All in all, this is not a good look, and I hope that common sense will prevail. Even if the rest of the policy is acceptable (as I said, we can get to other reservations another day), the sentences that problematise hugging and touching ought to be excised at the earliest opportunity.

On Spontaneity and Hugging

Posted by on June 28, 2012 24 comments

Russell Blackford has flagged up an objection (here & here), which undoubtedly has force, against my hugging argument. Here’s my version of the objection.

Spontaneity, when employed kindly, is a good. If we overregulate social behaviour, then – by definition – this will lead to less spontaneity (and it will also have the effect of infantilizing people). The sort of cautionary principle I talk about is a form of self-overregulation, since its likely effect, if universalized, will be to undermine spontaneity, and, in a sense, pathologize forms of behaviour – such as hugging – that are themselves a good.

Okay, so let’s break down the argument to see if it flies (and I should say that I’m looking at my version of the argument here, not Russell’s, which might be a lot stronger, etc).

1. Is spontaneity, when employed kindly, a good? At first thought that seems an entirely plausible claim. But actually it disguises a lot of complexity. So, for example, maybe the claim is a counterfactual claim – a world with lots of spontaneity is better than a world with only a little spontaneity. Thing is, even if that’s true, it doesn’t show that spontaneity is good in and of itself, it merely shows that more often than not people get their spontaneous acts about right (and remember that it’s possible to employ spontaneity for kind reasons and get it wrong).

2. So is spontaneity good in and of itself? It’s quite hard to know what to make of this idea. Obviously there are large issues to do with how we want to define spontaneity (which I’m not going to get into). But I think I’d want to argue that it doesn’t make much sense to think about the value of spontaneity without focussing largely on outcomes. I don’t think it’s particularly counterintuitive to suppose that if a spontaneous act has a clearly bad outcome, then regardless of whether we think spontaneity if meritorious in and of itself, we’d judge the act as being unfortunate (albeit whether we thought the agent was culpable might depend on a lot of other factors).

3. If spontaneity is not good in and of itself (or not good enough), then the charge against overregulation must be that overall it reduces good outcomes. So, for example, in the case of my hugging argument, the charge would be that my self-overregulation leads to less good stuff (affection, warmth, intimacy) and perhaps more bad stuff (social wariness, nervousness, infantilization, etc). For that charge to be effective, then (1) it has to be empirically warranted; and (2) it has to trump other, at least partly non-consequentialist, moral concerns (particularly to do with the “rights” of individuals).

4. Is it empirically warranted – in other words, is it true that my cautionary principle if applied across the board would result in less good stuff and more bad stuff? Okay, so to recap, my cautionary principle, broadly speaking, holds that:

It is morally problematic to engage in physical contact that has a mild sexual dimension, and one should avoid in engaging in it, unless you have good reason to suppose that you have informed consent, which includes an awareness that the act has a sexual dimension (so de facto consent isn’t enough).

The first point to note is that in this context informed consent does not mean “no touching other people without asking first”, which is a ludicrous rule. It doesn’t mean this because informed consent can be implied. So the example I gave in my original posting was a couple who had been engaging in flirtatious behaviour, etc: in such a circumstance it is reasonable to suppose that de facto consent, which might merely be implied consent (e.g., through body language, etc), is informed consent vis-a-vis the sexual element of the physical contact.

It is also the case that informed consent can be implied by a couple’s shared history. Russell gives an example of a “treasured ex-girlfriend” at the end of his comment here.

And, of course, if physical contact is non-sexual – which might be the case in the sort of ritualistic setting Jean Kazez describes (though it might not be) – then there is (usually) no issue of informed consent over and above de facto consent. Moreover, this will generally be the case if a person is wired up in such a way that the the world is only minimally sexualized (because presumably they’re not going to experience a sexual frisson in the context of ostensibly non-sexual physical contact).

5. This all means that the set of physical acts where my cautionary principle might result in less good stuff and more bad stuff is far from being exhaustive of the set of all physical acts, which clearly lessens the force of the objection (but doesn’t by any means extinguish it).

6. Okay,let’s concede, for the sake of argument, the point that my sort of cautionary principle will result in less good stuff of a certain sort (affection, warmth, etc) and more bad stuff of a different sort (social wariness, infantilization, etc). Is that the end of the empirical argument? It isn’t, because if one is looking at consequences, one has to factor in that by no means everybody is comfortable with spontaneity, physical contact, familiarity, etc. This might be regrettable – in my view it is regrettable – but it isn’t trivial.

For these people, the knowledge that a cautionary principle is in play, together with its purported knock-on effect in terms of a decline of spontaneity, certain kinds of affection, etc., might be a relief. It might make them more likely to put themselves in potentially rewarding situations where they would otherwise fear – perhaps without justification (whether the fear is justified or not isn’t relevant from a strict consequentialist point of view) – they might be subject to unwanted physical contact (and don’t forget people can find it very difficult to say “No” – I find it difficult to say “No”.) For a certain subset of people, then, what would be the overregulation of social behaviour for most people, would be just the right amount of regulation.

This is not to claim that there is a balance here, but it is to claim it is necessary to weigh up the consequences of a decline of spontaneity, warmth, certain kinds of affection, etc, in both directions.

7. But let’s bite the bullet, and assume the consequentialist calculus comes out against my cautionary principle. Is this decisive?

Well, no it’s not, and it’s not decisive for one of the reasons that consequentialist arguments in general tend to run into trouble (and remember, we’re treating this as a consequentialist argument – see point 2). It isn’t clear that the “greater good” justifies potentially infringing on the “rights” of particular individuals. (I should say that I don’t like talk of “rights”, I can’t really make sense of it, but again for the sake of argument we’ll just go with it.)

In particular, it is at least arguable that people have rights against unwanted physical contact, regardless of what that means in consequentialist terms. So, for example, none of us are going to think that it’s okay to beat up on a person just in the case that it turns out that some large number of other people find it entertaining. (And yes, of course, there are layers and layers of complication here to do with the difference between act and rule utilitarianism, for example, and a lot of other things.) Likely, many of us won’t think this is justified even if the person being beaten up consents to their beating.

At the very least, then, there’s a tension between a concern with average outcomes and a concern with individual rights (and indeed there may be a tension between different sorts of individual rights).

In terms of my cautionary principle, then, there are two central issues (if we bite the bullet, and accept the consequentialist calculus comes out against the principle).

1. How careful do we need to be that we don’t infringe on people’s right not to be subject to unwanted physical contact (where the argument is that in the case of hugging de facto consent does not equate to informed consent)?

2. How do we resolve the tension between an interest in maximizing the good things in life (on average) and protecting individual “rights”?

I’ll leave those two questions for another time – or other people – because this has gotten too long and I’ve run out of steam. But just some very quick closing remarks. This issue is complex, and I’m largely making this stuff up as I go along (and yes, I’m sure that’s obvious). So it’s important to remember the position I’m arguing against here is my version of Russell’s objection. No doubt Russell’s take on his own position would be very, or at least somewhat, different, and I’m sure much better for it.

On Hugging

Posted by on June 26, 2012 47 comments

If you’re a woman I find attractive, and you want a hug, then I’m not your guy. (Yeah, I know, women the world over are currently sobbing into their pillows.) Here’s why.

I find you attractive. This means if you have your body up close to my body, I’m going to be aware that you’re a sexual being, that you’ve got curves and soft bits that I find appealing. (If you find that thought shocking, tough luck.) I know some men will tell you that they’re not aware of that sort of thing, and that their hugs are purely platonic, and it’s even possible some of these fellows are telling the truth, but I’m not one of these guys. I’m aware.

This brings the issue of informed consent right to the fore. I think it’s likely that most women would not want to hug me if they were fully aware of the nature of the psychosexual dynamic in play. But, even if that is not so, and only a few women would be deterred, a cautionary principle is in force: you have to be sure you have informed consent for close physical contact, especially if it has an attached sexual frisson, and given that people don’t tend to see hugging as being sexualized (and, yes, yes, I know, lots of people will claim that it is not – don’t believe them, I say), I don’t know that I have informed consent, so I can’t take the risk. This means I don’t hug women. (If you’re a man, it’s normally very easy to avoid being hugged. Body language is your friend. Also being a misanthropic recluse helps.)

A few points of clarification here.

1. Obviously, if you experience no sexual frisson when hugging somebody you find attractive, then there’s no issue here, assuming you have consent (however that is communicated). But don’t kid yourself about it just because you want to get your arms around somebody you find alluring.

2. I’m not talking here about men and women who are enjoying an encounter that is by its very nature obviously sexualized (whether it be a fleeting encounter or whatever) – then it’s a different ball game (because one can assume that both parties are aware of the sexual dynamic, etc). But again, don’t kid yourself about it just because you want to get a thrill.

3. There are some female friends I will hug (almost always at their instigation). But only if they know perfectly well that I find them attractive, and that I’m aware of their sexuality, etc. (Oddly enough, this knowledge hasn’t put them all off – hurrah!). Obviously, the better you know somebody, the more open and intimate your relationship, the more likely it is that this will be the case.

4. This is not a plea for a conservative sexual morality. As far as I’m concerned, the world would be a much better place if people were not hung up about sex and bodies and monogamy, and spent their time shagging left, right and center. But unfortunately we don’t live in that world, and informed consent is crucial – for Kantian reasons, if nothing else.

5. There are risks here of infantilizing women. I’m aware, of course, that women are quite capable of making their own choices about the people they want to hug. The worry here isn’t about women not being able to make choices. It’s about the possibility they don’t have access to all the information necessary to make an informed choice. Of course, it’s also true that people aren’t going to be naive about the dynamics in play here (and there will often be behavioural clues if a man is deliberately seeking a sexual thrill in a hug). But again, a cautionary principle has to hold sway.

6. Male and female sexuality is not identical (on average, etc). This means the situation is different in the other direction (though not as a matter of principle).

7. Yes, of course – there are exceptions to this general rule. If somebody is in distress, for example, or whatever – there clearly are occasions where the sexual aspect just isn’t obviously in play, and in those situations the moral calculus is different.

8. And just because there has been a lot of talk in a less salubrious corner of the internet about sexual harassment policies, I should say this is not an argument either for or against such a thing. That’s a different issue (though obviously not entirely divorced from these sorts of observations).

I realise this all sounds rather pious, so… well, sorry about that! I blame Kant.

The Ethics of Porn

Posted by on June 25, 2012 25 comments

English: Porn star Cytherea at XRCO Awards in ...

“No porno has ever lost money”, or so said a running friend of mine when he quoted one of his economic professors. This was some years ago and it appears that it is no longer true. Ironically, porn has been a victim of the internet. Much as video killed the radio star, the internet has killed the porn star.

At this point, most folks are probably thinking “that cannot be true! Far from killing porn, the internet is for porn.” This is both true and not true: the internet did kill porn. But the internet is also for porn. Fortunately, this is not some sort of Schrodinger’s Porn in which the porn is neither alive nor dead until it is observed. Rather, the situation can easily be explained without any odd quantum physics.

While I am sure that the readers of this blog have never witnessed this in person, the internet tubes are jammed with porn. Because of this, the traditional porn industry (like the newspaper industry) is in hard times (which is surely the name of a porno). After all, when people can get their porn anonymously and  for free (or at least very cheaply) on the web, they are unlikely to buy the traditional porn movies. As such, it is no surprise that the traditional porn industry has gone from a money making giant to being in its death spiral. As such, the internet has killed (traditional) porn, while the internet is most definitely for porn. Interestingly enough, this decline of the traditional porn industry does raise some ethical concerns.

One point of concern is one that arises whenever an industry is in a death spiral, namely a concern for the people who work in that industry. While some porn stars have been able to achieve success outside of porn, the fall of the traditional porn industry will leave most of the performers in a rather hard situation (which, I am sure, is also the name of a porno). To be specific, many of them will have no qualifications beyond having sex on camera and will have little in the ways of savings and opportunities. While some will be able to switch careers, some will not. As such, it seems worth being concerned about these people.

One obvious reply is that this sort of industry death is just the way of things and economic causalities are inevitable. After all, the rise of the steam engine, electricity and so on killed many industries and the internet is just the most recent example of a economic re-definer. As such, while the economic woes of the folks in porn  is regrettable, we have no special obligation to support those who elected to enter a dying industry. They can, of course, avail themselves of the usual support offered to the unemployed and they can attempt find employment elsewhere.

A second reply is that the death of the porn industry can be seen as a good thing. After all, feminists have long argued that the typical porn is demeaning and harmful and thus morally wrong. Religious groups and moral conservatives have also argued against porn because of its corrupting influence (often unconsciously duplicating Plato’s classic arguments for banning the corrupting influence of art from the ideal state). Thus, the death of porn is a good thing.

The rather obvious reply is that the death of the porn industry is not the death of porn. As noted above, porn is thriving on the internet. To use an analogy, the state of porn is somewhat like the state of newspapers: while the traditional professional industry is dying, the amateurs are flooding the web with words and porn.

Given this fact, it might be expected that those who worked in the professional porn industry can flock to the electronic frontier and make a living in web porn. After all, if Facebook can rake in billions allowing people to post about eating a bagel and to share cat photos, surely something like F@ckbook could be created to provide a home for porn performers.

The obvious reply to this is that the people using Facebook do not make money and presumably the porn performers on F@ckbook would be in the same boat-although someone else would probably get rich. As far as the performers working on the web, one has but to look at the financial success of the typical blogger to get an idea how well going amateur typically pays on the web. After all, people are generally not inclined to pay for what they can get for free. This is not to say that clever people are no longer able to monetize porn, just that the performers will almost certainly be worse off in the new porn economy.

A final point of moral concern is whether or not the porn viewers have a moral debt to those who make it possible for them to see porn. This is not, of course, unique to porn and a similar question arises when it comes to journalism, music, books, non-porn movies and so on. After all, people can readily acquire almost anything digital for free (legitimately or by theft) on the web.

Since I have argued about digital theft in other essays, I will simply note that an excellent case can be made that stealing digital content is morally wrong. As such, the arguments I have made elsewhere would seem to apply to stealing porn as well. However, there is an interesting potential twist here: perhaps the moral dubiousness of the porn industry can provide a moral justification for stealing porn. That is, doing something bad to a bad industry is not bad.

While this has a certain superficial appeal, it can easily be countered. First, stealing from the porn industry is still stealing. Second, stealing from the porn industry does not seem to do anything to counter any moral badness of the industry-that is, the theft cannot be justified on the grounds that it makes things morally better. It could, of course, be justified on the grounds that it might be denying income to the wicked. But, of course, this leads to the third counter: a person steals porn to use porn, thus any moral high ground is clearly lost. This would be somewhat like a person arguing that it is okay to steal drugs to use from drug dealers because drugs are bad. This would, obviously, be a rather poor moral argument.

As far as the free content goes, while giving such product away for free might not be the wisest business model, availing oneself of free stuff is clearly not morally wrong. However, there is still the question of whether or not one should simply free ride an industry rather than contributing to it financially.

On the one hand, a person obviously has no moral obligation to support an industry because s/he has taken free stuff from said industry. After all, it is free. On the other hand, it could be argued that there is some obligation. After all, if the person values what they get for free, then they should contribute to what makes it possible for such stuff to be available for free.

The rather obvious counter to this is that it is up to a business to do what it takes to get customers to support them. If they elect to adopt an approach to business that provides potential customers with everything they want for free, then they have no grounds to complain when those potential customers never actually buy things. While it would be nice of the users to give back to the business, business cannot be sensibly based on this sort of model. As such, it is not so much that the internet killed porn. Rather the porn industry is committing suicide with the internet.

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What Lesbians Don’t Understand About Heterosexual Men

Posted by on June 22, 2011 120 comments

This is a guest post by Dr Rupert Read, School of Philosophy, UEA.

In the wake of the affair that made world-wide news recently involving the exposure of a rather sad, vain and irresponsible Englishman who posed in a blog as a gay (Syrian) woman, the controversial feminist writer Julie Bindel wrote illuminatingly in the GUARDIAN about “What straight men don’t understand about lesbians“. Her amusing article, deservedly, attracted about eight hundred published comments. The only point, I think, at which she went wrong, was in her opening speculations about why so many straight men are fascinated by (their fantasy of) lesbians  (She thinks it has to do with male indignation that lesbians “do not desire the male form”. But this explains none of the delirious quality of male-fascination with all thingsSapphic.).

Perhaps this failing on Bindel’s part is not surprising: for she is not a straight man…

The real reason why the idea of lesbianism so fascinates many straight men is one that is easier to understand if one is. Having some philosophical awareness also helps. For the real reason is closely connected with the phenomenology of sexual fantasy, which works via virtual identification. In other words: it is about imagining yourself into the position of one of the sexual partners. In the case of lesbianism, a straight man seeks to imagine himself into the position of one of the partners, desiring the other woman of the pair – and then can immediately switch into the second woman’s subject position, desiring the first. (This back and forth virtual-switching of identification is especially delicious because of course it tacitly involves the illicit thrill of  being a woman, at the level of imagination, as well as desiring one.)  It works especially for the male fantasist when both the women in question are ‘desirable’ (e.g. porn models, or ‘lipstick lesbians’) and/or when the limbs etc. of the participants are so entwined that it is slightly hard to tell who is who. A man may get very over-excited by rapidly – ‘deliriously’ – switching subject-positions in his imagination, and work himself up in a way that doesn’t have a direct parallel in situations of heterosexual desire.

Furthermore, this also explains male hetero disgust for male homosexuality. For, in this case, a male contemplating it cannot succeed overtly in imagining himself into the position of either male partner: for doing so would commit him to having to imagine himself desiring a man: which, for a hetero male, is unacceptable.

So that’s what lesbians don’t understand about straight men: that their fantasy of lesbians essentially involves imagining themselves into the position of the lesbians in question. Sort-of the opposite of the explanation given by Bindel. And, moreover, a kind of hidden massive compliment to (and envy of) lesbians, rather than an expression of outrage at them…

The Obsession

Posted by on October 21, 2010 6 comments
Balboa setting his war dogs upon Indian practi...
Image via Wikipedia

While it might be an exaggeration to say that some story involving the matter of homosexuality appears in the American news everyday, it certainly seems to be a popular theme. The usual pattern is that someone will make a remark that is offensive to homosexuals and this will open the floodgates for responses and commentary. Obviously, I am guilty of being caught up in the flood. Mainly I am curious about what seems to be an obsession with the subject.

The easy and obvious answer is that being critical of homosexuality is an easy way for politicians on the right to establish their conservative bona fides. Of course, this sometimes takes a problematic turn for some allegedly anti-gay folks when there is an unfortunate boner find.  On the left, leaping to criticize such remarks is an easy way to polish those liberal bona fides. As such, people obsess about this matter because it is an easy way to score…political points, that is.

Another obvious reason is that it is not uncommon for religious folk to regard homosexuality as  sin, hence the grounds for concern. However, religious texts like the bible are chock full of sins that people are not very concerned about (such as usury and eating unclean foods). As such, the religious answer only pushes the question back since it is sensible to ask why religious folk are often so very concerned about homosexuality. After all, it is not even in the top ten list of what to do/not do (unless one is engaging in adultery).

The easy and not very helpful answer is that people are very interested in sex in general and hence they would be very interested in and critical of homosexuality. Perhaps this arises from curiosity that transforms to guilt and then anger (“I wonder what that would be like…gosh, I feel wicked for thinking that…damn fags!”) in some cases. Perhaps it is a lack of confidence in one’s own sexuality. Or perhaps it is simply a classic case of certain people being afraid of what is different from what they do.

Some people do claim that they are concerned because it is an important moral issue: either it is a wicked thing that must be fought to protect God, Country and The Children or it is a matter of freedom that must be allowed in a free society. Now, if homosexuality is an evil, it hardly seems to be the greatest of evils and it would seem that moral crusaders could better spend their energy addressing matters for more dire and damaging. The other side does seem to have a better case given how homosexuals are often treated and what they are often denied, namely equality.

In my own case, I regard homosexuality as morally neutral: neither good, nor bad. I do believe that people should be free to chose their sexual partners within the limits of informed consent. This requires that those involved be capable of understanding the matter and that they are free from coercion and compulsion. This nicely handles the stock claims that tolerating homosexuality means tolerating bestiality, pedophilia, rape and so on. Obviously enough, animals and children cannot give informed consent. In the case of rape there is, by definition, no consent. Hence, the slippery slope does not even get sliding here.

At this point someone will no doubt be thinking about necrophilia. No, not about committing it but about the claim that tolerating homosexuality entails tolerating necrophilia. The easy way out of this “criticism” is that tolerating homosexuality between consenting parties no more entails tolerating necrophilia than does tolerating people of different faiths or nationalities getting married. At the very least, the burden of proof lies on those who would make such a claim. Also, a corpse cannot give consent.

Naturally, it might be replied that sex toys cannot give consent either, but it would seem acceptable for people to have sex with them. After all, they are just objects so consent does not enter into the matter. So, one might argue, if we are tolerant about homosexuality, then we must tolerate necrophilia since corpses would be functioning as sexual objects. The obvious problem with this argument is that it would not be that tolerance of homosexuality entails tolerance of necrophilia. Rather, it is that tolerance of sex toys would somehow entail tolerance of necrophilia, which certainly does not seem to follow. After all, there is an important moral distinction between a dead person and a mere object.

I’ll close with a question: how concerned should people be about homosexuality?

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Orientation & Choice

Posted by on June 18, 2010 16 comments
May Hansen celebrating the vote on the same-se...
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When people debate about topics such as same sex marriage and “don’t ask, don’t tell”  the discussion inevitably turns to whether being a homosexual is a matter of choice or not.

When discussing the matter of choice, it is important to distinguish between sexual orientation and sexual behavior. Laying aside the broader metaphysical question of choice, sexual behavior seems to be primarily a matter of choice. That is, the sort of sexual activities a person actually engages in are (with notable exceptions such as being the victim of rape) are consciously selected by that person.

Interestingly enough, a distinction can be drawn between those who chose to engage in homosexual behavior and those who are homosexuals. As one example, it has been claimed that some men in prison who have sex with other men  still regard themselves as heterosexual. To use an analogy, perhaps this is comparable to someone who sees herself as a vegetarian, but eats meat when that is the only food available. As another example, apparently some allegedly straight men participate in gay pornography because of the better pay. To use an analogy, this would be somewhat like a painter who decides to take a job as a graphic designer because he can make more money that way (yet who still remains a painter in his heart).

It must be said, however, that it might seem a bit odd for a man who has sex with men to claim that he is still straight. After all, one might argue, that would seem to be what it means for a man to be a homosexual. To use an analogy, if someone claims to be a baseball player, yet plays football rather than baseball, it would be rather odd for that person to make that claim. But, the analogy might not hold in this case.

While there is some debate about this, there are also hom0sexuals who chose to not engage in homosexual behavior, yet still think of themselves as homosexual. For example, a person might see himself as gay yet also decide to practice abstinence.  This does seem to make sense. After all, if a person can be a heterosexual and practice abstinence, then the same should be true of homosexuals.

A person might also decide to engage in heterosexual behavior to meet social expectations or to avoid being persecuted for being a homosexual.  In such cases, the person would still be gay but would be acting straight. While it might be argued that to act straight is to be straight, people can behave in a certain way while actually not being that way. The obvious short term example is acting: an actor playing the role of a scientist might have no interest in or knowledge of science. A more long term example would be a spy or an undercover police officer. As such, a person could behavior one way sexually and yet not actually be that way. Of course, the question remains as to what it means to be that way.

One easy and obvious way to look at sexual orientation is in terms of preferences. A person who is a heterosexual would prefer to have sex with someone of the opposite sex. A person who is a homosexual prefers those of the same sex. Naturally, preference can be a complicated and nuanced matter. For example, a person might think of himself as heterosexual in that he would prefer sex with attractive woman, but he might prefer an extremely  handsome man over a very ugly woman.  Of course, some might be inclined to say that if there is any scenario in which a person would prefer sex with someone of the same sex over someone of the opposite sex, then this would make them homosexual. If this is the case, then I suspect that many people would be classified as homosexuals.

Fortunately, I do not need a precise definition of homosexuality for this essay. This is because the issue being addressed is the matter of choice rather than an attempt to sort out what it is to be gay or straight. All that is really needed at this point is that orientation is primarily a matter of preference. As such, the question at hand is whether this preference is a matter of choice or not.

One possibility is that it is not a matter of choice. On the face of it, this seems to be a plausible view. As one stock intuition argument goes, most people do not seem to recall ever making such a choice. While this does not prove that it is not a choice, the fact that people seem unable to point to making such a choice does provide support for the claim that it is not a matter of choice.

In my own case, I have no awareness that I chose to be straight. I also have no awareness of selecting my preferences in regards to the type of women I prefer. For example, I have a general preference towards woman with dark hair. However, that does not seem to be something I selected-I cannot think of consciously deciding that I would find dark hair somewhat more appealing than lighter hair. As such, this preference seems to be similar to that of food preferences: I did not decide that I would like pie, I just do.

A second argument is based on the fact that if preference is a choice, then people should be able to change their preference (although this might involve some effort). So, a straight person should be able to chose to be gay and vice versa. A person can, obviously enough, test this by trying to switch his orientation. This, as was argued above, is different from changing behavior. This would require not merely behaving a different way but actually changing one’s preference in the matter. As such, if you think it is a matter of choice, give it a try and see how that works out.

A third argument builds on the second. If sexual preference is a matter of choice, it seems odd that people would not decide to be heterosexual when people were (and are) persecuted and even killed for being homosexuals. It would make no sense to endure such treatment when a person could simply decide to not be that way. Of course, this argument is not decisive. After all, people do make choices that they know will result in harm or even death. For example, people will use drugs even though they put their health at risk and risk being arrested.

Another possibility is that it is a matter of choice. Clearly, it is not a simple choice like deciding between having a Coke or a Pepsi. Nor is it easy, like setting a preference in a computer program (“click the straight button to stop being gay”). However, it could still be a matter of choice. To steal a bit from Aristotle, we become what we do. So, if a person makes choices that leads to a preference for the same sex, than that person can be said to have chosen to be a homosexual. Naturally, there might be factors that incline a person one way or another (experiences, genetics, etc.) but this is true of anything involving choice. Provided that these factors are not overwhelming, then it would seem that orientation could be a matter of choice.

If this is the case, then people could change their orientation through such means. Consider an analogy to food. When I was a kid, I hated green peppers. Or so I thought. When I actually decided to try them and made a conscious effort, I found that I liked them.

Of course, there have been foods that I did try to like and failed (like plantains), So perhaps orientation is more like that. Or perhaps food analogies are a poor choice.

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