Gaurima: When did you first come to India, and how long have you lived here?
Brooks: I first came to India in 1984, when I was in college. I returned to India a number of times before settling here around 1994.
Gaurima: When did you get the idea of writing Object of Desire, and what motivated you to write it?
Brooks: In 2019, several troubling realizations prompted me to write this story.
By that time, I had begun to question the United Nations’ campaign to normalize the fleshtrade by decriminalizing prostitution. UN bodies advocate this because they ostensibly believe a mathematical model’s prediction, first published by Shannon et al. in July 2014, that prostitution’s decriminalization will significantly reduce HIV transmission by ending violence, stigma, and discrimination against prostituting women.
In my own work developing documents for HIV prevention programs around 2016, I routinely cited this mathematical model’s prediction. Initially, I simply accepted this prediction—it was reported in an article in The Lancet, after all—but when I gave it more thought, the prediction began to sound improbable, so I wondered what the model’s assumptions were.
When I contacted the lead author of the article and asked some questions, she was unwilling to discuss the model. Her refusal to answer my questions made me doubt her confidence in the integrity of her own work. When I read the article’s supplementary appendix, I discovered that the model’s prediction was contingent upon three improbable assumptions.
First, the model assumed that, after decriminalization, the number of women in prostitution would increase only at the rate of population growth minus the rate that women exit prostitution. In other words, decriminalization would not increase the number of women in prostitution significantly.
Second, the model assumed that the “total client volume of all female sex workers” would “remain the same.”
And third, the model assumed that, after decriminalization, women’s “exposure to structural risks (e.g., violence, policing, unsafe work spaces) or the excess in risk of non-condom use associated with violence ceases immediately and/or that the policy that increase [sic] access to safer work environments for female sex workers has immediate effect and/or that the associated safer sexual practices (e.g. client condom use) is [sic] adopted immediately.” The authors wrote, “For these reasons, our estimates reflect the maximum potential impact of the structural changes (e.g., interventions) modeled.”
The “interventions” here refers to decriminalization.
These improbable assumptions made me lose faith in the model’s prediction that decriminalization would significantly reduce HIV transmission. I realized that the mathematical model was as rigorous as a crystal ball. UNAIDS and the WHO and other bodies cite the mathematical model’s prediction as if it is scientific evidence, or proof, that decriminalization will safeguard public health. But the prediction isn’t evidence—it isn’t an empirical finding—it’s wishful thinking.
When I understood that the model’s prediction wasn’t based on science, but upon science fiction, it occurred to me that one could use science fiction to predict entirely different consequences of prostitution’s decriminalization, if one just uses more realistic assumptions. So in my novel, I set out to explore the aftermath of decriminalization, using assumptions that I found more believable.
I was also troubled that, despite Melissa Farley’s studies that found high rates of PTSD among prostitution survivors, public health scholars asserted that prostitution wasn’t inherently harmful. When I suggested including Farley’s findings in documents that I was working on for HIV control, I was told that we couldn’t mention such findings, because acknowledging prostitution’s harm would be moralistic.
I was also disturbed by the contradictory or conflicting agendas of organizations that work to keep girls in school because of the importance of girls’ education for social progress, but that simultaneously advocate the decriminalization of prostitution, which surely will pull many young women out of school to enter the fleshtrade. The United Nations works at such cross purposes. Even though prostitution jeopardizes girls’ health and educational attainment, the UN advocates prostitution’s normalization.
I also found problematic the crude propaganda that is used to promote decriminalization (e.g., sex work is work, prostitution is the same as any other job, sex workers’ rights are human rights, etc.). Such euphemisms and propaganda are used to whitewash the harmful and demeaning nature of prostitution.
For example, in her book, The Right to Sex: Feminism in the Twenty-First Century, Amia Srinivasan asserts, “sex work is work, and can be better work than the menial work undertaken by most women.” But she doesn’t explain why she believes this.
And I was alarmed by the experiences of the approximately 2,000 young women in the megabrothel in Daulatdia, in Bangladesh, where prostitution is legal. Their condition was courageously documented by Tania Rashid in her documentary, Sex, Slavery, and Drugs in Bangladesh, for Vice News.
Tania Rashid’s documentary clearly shows what happens when prostitution is normalized in such a setting. It’s not possible to watch that documentary and then claim that the women interviewed in the Daulatdia brothel are engaged in labor or being empowered. They’re clearly being sexually abused and exploited by sex buyers and by pimps.
Finally, I was disturbed that many public health scholars appeared to embrace decriminalization because of their belief that society cannot be significantly made better. Such scholars therefore don’t see it as their job to promote societal transformation. They regard prostitution as inevitable, and so they strive only for harm reduction—e.g., fewer women infected with HIV, fewer women murdered—while denying the violation and humiliation that are intrinsic to prostitution. Such scholars dismiss the possibility of a world in which fewer women are compelled to sell sex for survival.
This was not my understanding of the mission of public health, as described by Dr. Jonathan Mann:
“Once we acknowledge that the goal of public health, beyond HIV/AIDS, is to ‘ensure the conditions in which people can be healthy,’ and recognize the enormous burden of evidence which tells us that societal factors are the dominant determinants of health status, we realize that, ultimately, to work for public health is to work for societal transformation.”
In their book, The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone, epidemiologists Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett also advocate societal transformation: “The evidence shows that reducing inequality is the best way of improving the quality of the social environment, and so the real quality of life, for all of us.”
Wilkinson and Pickett explain, “The more equally wealth is distributed the better the health of that society. … Inequality is associated with lower life expectancy, higher rates of infant mortality, shorter height, poor self-reported health, low birthweight, AIDS and depression.” They conclude, “The best way of responding to the harm done by high levels of inequality would be to reduce inequality itself.”
Hence, I believe that anyone interested in improving public health should be working for greater equality, not the normalization of prostitution.
So, I wrote Object of Desire to express my concerns about the UN’s determination to normalize the fleshtrade, the biased scholarship that supports decriminalization, the widespread endorsement of prostitution’s decriminalization by public health professionals and other scholars, and the deceptive propaganda that is used to advance this agenda.
I hope that the novel raises people’s awareness of the UN’s decriminalization campaign and the harm and suffering that it surely will cause.
Gaurima: How long did it take you to complete and publish the novel?
Brooks: It took around four years. Many things happened in that time, so the writing had to compete with other obligations. It might have taken longer if not for the Covid lockdowns. The lockdowns created some space to read and write.
I spent around half of 2022 querying literary agents, hoping to find an agent who would represent the book. I queried at least 60 agents, but none expressed interest. I then realized I had to self-publish. So, learning how to self-publish and preparing the manuscript for publication took perhaps half a year.
Gaurima: What was the hardest part of writing this story?
Brooks: Describing what men do to women in prostitution was the most unpleasant part of writing this story, but it was necessary, because such description immediately makes it clear that prostitution is not work; it is sexual abuse and exploitation.
Gaurima: What is the meaning of the question on the cover: What if we fear the wrong thing?
Brooks: I heard this question while listening to a podcast, and it made me wonder, what if the writers of feminist dystopian literature fear the wrong thing. Novels such as Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, Hillary Jordan’s When She Woke, and Prayaag Akbar’s Leila imagine a future in which women’s sexual activity and reproduction are strictly regulated and restricted by a tyrannical theocracy.
While that is certainly a foreseeable and disturbing scenario, I feel we should also recognize the possibility of the UN succeeding in decriminalizing prostitution globally, which will industrialize the sexual abuse of women.
Gaurima: In what ways is this story based on reality?
Brooks: Although fictional, the story is informed and inspired by several real things. The megabrothels in the story are based on megabrothels in Germany. The dynamics triggered by decriminalization, such as the fall in the price of sex, the pressure on women to perform dangerous acts, and the expansion of the sextrade, have been observed in settings that have legalized prostitution, as noted in 2023 by a prostitution survivor named Esther in her letter to The Lancet.
The Kanniyam intervention is based on an actual intervention to keep girls in school.
The public uprising against decriminalization in the novel is inspired by large-scale, long-running farmers’ protests in India. The depiction of prostitution in the novel was informed by the testimonies of women who have been in prostitution, such as those collected and published by Nordic Model Now!
Gaurima: Isn’t the premise of the story—the decriminalization of prostitution in India—unimaginable?
Brooks: I’d say it’s no less imaginable than the premise of The Hunger Games, in which children compete to murder each other in a nationally televised contest. And after the bizarre, globally synchronized and coordinated response to the Covid pandemic, I’d say nothing is unimaginable.
Gaurima: What made you aware that prostitution is not a job?
Brooks: The writings of Melissa Farley, Rachel Moran, Janice Raymond, Sheila Jeffreys, Louise Perry, Mia Döring, Robert Jensen, Chris Hedges, and many others make clear that prostitution is not a job.
Gaurima: Who is behind the campaign to decriminalize prostitution?
Brooks: It’s no secret that George Soros’s Open Society Foundations funds the campaign to decriminalize prostitution. The Open Society Foundations openly advocates decriminalization. But other plutocrats support it also, and their influence sets the agenda of UNAIDS, the WHO, and other organizations that are on board. Their agenda and sponsorship also set the editorial positions/views of the mainstream media, such as The Guardian, and of the scientific journals, such as The Lancet. Their agenda and sponsorship also constrain and steer the work of many scholars.
Gaurima: Why do you care about prostitution’s legal status?
Brooks: I oppose prostitution’s normalization because I believe it will benefit only the exploiters and the oppressors, most of whom are men. It will grant men only greater advantage. I oppose it also because commodification and commercialization tend to result in the exploitation and desecration of all that the market fails to value. We see this very clearly in agriculture. To be done responsibly, farming requires respect and care for nature and for living creatures. But market forces create economic selection pressures that advantage the most ruthless exploiters of land, livestock, and labor. Consequently, industrial agriculture is, in the words of Wendell Berry, a failure on its way to becoming a catastrophe. We have seen enough to know that in legal prostitution, the market undervalues women’s human rights.
Gaurima: How does Object of Desire differ from other literature about prostitution?
Brooks: I wanted to avoid the common plot of a virgin who is abducted by a trafficker and then rescued by a male hero.
In novels such as Vahan Zanoyan’s A Place Far Away, Chris Bohjalian’s The Guest Room, Corban Addison’s A Walk Across the Sun, and Chaker Khazaal’s Tale of Tala, the trafficked main character is rescued by a male hero. These novels highlight the heroism of male protagonists.
I wanted to write a story about a young woman who isn’t rescued by a male hero. Instead, she rescues herself with her voice and her solidarity with her peers. And I wanted my story to play out in a setting in which prostitution has been normalized by decriminalization.
Gaurima: But in Object of Desire, the billionaire’s ex-wife, Carol Cooper, plays a major role in the outcome.
Brooks: Maybe I’m not entirely ready to completely write off female billionaire philanthropists, but they’re not giving me much reason for hope.
Gaurima: How did I wind up being a character in the book?
Brooks: I’ve been a huge fan of your courageous reporting for a long time. You’re a role model for young women everywhere.
Gaurima: Well, thank you! What has been the reaction to the book?
Brooks: There have been some negative remarks on X (formerly known as Twitter), entirely from people who obviously haven’t read the book. I’ve been called a propagandist for the anti-trafficking industry, even though the novel isn’t really about trafficking. One person accused me of not mentioning prostitutes’ unions, although the novel does describe the impact of decriminalization on prostituting women’s collectives. That same person asked why I’m not outraged about untouchability. I’m not sure why she thinks I’m not outraged or why she felt that was a relevant question.
It is taking some time for people to read the book, but the initial reviewers on Amazon generously gave the novel five stars.
Gaurima: Thank you so much for this conversation and best wishes for the novel’s success.
Brooks: Thank you very much, Gaurima. It has been a pleasure speaking with you.
References
Esther. 2023. Open Letter to the Lancet. Nordic Model Now! https://nordicmodelnow.org/2023/06/23/open-letter-to-the-lancet/
Mann, J. M. 1996. Human rights and AIDS: The future of the pandemic. J. Marshall L. Rev. 30(1) Article 6:195-206.
Shannon K, Strathdee SA, Goldenberg SM, Duff P, Mwangi P, Rusakova M,et al. 2015. Global epidemiology of HIV among female sex workers: influence of structural determinants. Lancet.385(9962):55–71. DOI:https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(14)60931-4
Srinivasan, Amia. 2021. The Right to Sex: Feminism in the Twenty-First Century. London: Bloomsbury.
Wilkinson, R. and K. Pickett. 2010. The Spirit Level: Why Equality Is Better for Everyone. London: Penguin Books.
My review of Kat Banyard’s Pimp State
I’m very pleased that my review of Kat Banyard’s tremendous book, Pimp State, has been published by Nordic Model Now!
I bought and read Pimp State in 2017. It powerfully shaped my understanding and view of prostitution, and thereby influenced my novel, Object of Desire, in which I describe the impact of a pimp state on the lives of young women in India in 2031. Object of Desire was reviewed by Nordic Model Now!
I hope my review of Pimp State motivates many people to buy and read this excellent critique of the campaign to fully decriminalise the sex industry.
My response to Maya Linstrum-Newman and Nadine Gloss’s call for the decriminalization of prostitution
Julie Bindel has rightly observed, “There is no issue as contentious among feminists, liberals, and human rights defenders as the sex trade.”
I commend PassBlue for publishing and inviting comment on Maya Linstrum-Newman and Nadine Gloss’s opinion piece endorsing the recent guidance document, “Eliminating discrimination against sex workers and securing their human rights,” by the United Nations Working Group on Discrimination against Women and Girls, which advocates the full decriminalization of prostitution. The UN’s campaign to fully decriminalize prostitution deserves rigorous scrutiny and robust discussion.
Linstrum-Newman and Gloss acknowledge that “injustices . . . occur in sex work,” but they fail to explain how decriminalization will protect prostituting women from the violence, stigma, and physical and mental health threats inherent to prostitution. Linstrum-Newman and Gloss don’t even define sex work.
The UN’s description of prostitution as the sale or exchange of sex for money, goods or services provides no impression of what prostitution actually entails.
It is important to describe what men routinely do to women in prostitution, because such description makes it immediately evident that prostitution does not qualify as decent work.
The UN’s own research has found that violence by men against prostituting women, men, and transgender people is common. For example, a study by the UNFPA, UNDP, and Asia Pacific Network of Sex Workers in Indonesia, Myanmar, Nepal and Sri Lanka reported the following:
“The majority of participants in all four sites reported that they had experienced sexual violence by clients. Examples encompassed rape, including being forced to give oral sex, forced to have sex while menstruating, forced to have sex without a condom, attempted anal sex in spite of the participant’s resistance, forcible insertion of objects (such as sticks, eggs, bottles, sharp objects and vibrators) into the anus or vagina, forcible insertion of a penis into a participant’s mouth, being forced to perform sexual acts that participants felt were humiliating and being forced to service more clients than agreed upon. Several participants from Indonesia, Myanmar and Sri Lanka reported being raped at knifepoint by persons posing as clients, and this cut across gender categories.
“In total, more than one third (51 of 123) of all the participants described experiences of gang rape by paying or nonpaying clients (24 female, 11 male and 16 transgender). Gang rape by clients was reported in all four countries, but more so in Nepal, Sri Lanka and Myanmar than in Indonesia. Sexual and economic violence were intertwined in several cases, with participants in all countries across gender categories reporting situations in which they were forced to provide services to more clients than what was agreed or provide more or different sexual services than what was agreed. Several of these cases were not just ‘a deal gone wrong’ but instances of gang rape, even though not all participants (especially male participants) used this terminology.” (Bhattacharjya et al. 2015)
Andrea Heinz, who spent seven years in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada’s municipally-licensed and regulated prostitution regime (2006–2013), has described the violence that she experienced and the impact that it had on her:
“I was regularly abused by sex buyers, and at times, licensed brothel owners. More than 4,300 men used my body for their one-sided sexual gratification, many of them slapping me, biting me, spitting on me, verbally abusing me, secretly filming me, choking me, removing condoms, stalking me, and demanding every disgusting act of sexual perversion one can imagine – acts of non-state torture. I became an empty shell of a human, operating in a constant state of hypervigilance, dissociation, and numbness.”
In New Zealand, decriminalization has not made “sex work” safe.
On her blog, Renee Gerlich published the following accounts of the violence experienced by Rae Story and Jade, survivors of New Zealand’s decriminalized prostitution industry.
Rae Story wrote:
“The boss liked us to work most nights and so the constant interference from (often) rabid men left us bruised and sore. This one particular john had a thick penis, which he liked to jab in and out of me, as hard and fast as he could. Initially, I tried to breathe deeply and relax my muscles, but the pain was excruciating. I began to hold onto his hips to slow him down, push him away from me, but he got impatient and then angry, before flouncing off to complain, as though he was the victim of some great injustice. . . . One imagines, looking back, that the other women had to learn how to alleviate these situations for themselves — learn how to cope with the bruising, the discomfort, the tiredness, the objectification, and the hours of unpaid and thankless work they conducted for the benefit of the brothel.”
Jade reflected on her experience in decriminalized prostitution and her long path to recovery:
“There’s no ‘how to’ when learning to be a prostitute. I was at the mercy of the clients who would take advantage of my lack of personal boundaries. I would be left with bruises all over my body from the rough sex, men always wanted to imitate hardcore porn, acting out the sexual violence they were feeding on. The drunker they were, the angrier they would get until they were in hateful rages. Those were the times my vagina would bleed from the trauma. I had no-one to tell or to help me as we (the girls) were experiencing the same thing…
Over ten years I estimate I have been raped at least 30 times and suffered about 2,500 severely violent attacks. I never got any medical treatment…
It took 18 months of intense residential treatment to overcome the trauma of sex work, then a further two and a half years of living in supported accommodation before the fear and anxiety of participating in everyday life was overcome. I still have regular counselling; the psychological effect of sex work has had an incredibly debilitating effect on my life. It is hard to maintain relationships after you have been treated night after night with contempt. It is hard to value yourself when you have been sold for as little as a packet of cigarettes.”
Although the UN insists that sex work is voluntary, the UN’s own research findings indicate that it is inaccurate and hence misleading to describe prostitution as something that women voluntarily or freely choose. According to UNAIDS (2007),
“There are a number of recognized key factors which lead people into sex work. Foremost among these are poverty (ILO 2005), gender inequality, indebtedness, low levels of education, mobility and migration, and criminal coercion. These often propel individuals and families into circumstances such as sex work that they would otherwise avoid. Other factors include: humanitarian emergencies, individual circumstances such as dependent drug use, dysfunctional families and family breakdown (UNICEF 2001), as well as a range of social and cultural factors including demand for sex work, rigidly defined gender roles and social marginalization.”
According to the WHO (2001),
“Most of the people who sell sex in Asia do so because they are compelled by economic and social inequality and by terribly restricted life chances. Especially in the poorer countries of the region, they have no other realistic option. . . . Most sex workers in the lower ranks of the industry are victims of many kinds of social and economic injustice, and it is inaccurate and patronising to exaggerate their degree of agency and their power to negotiate with clients and the management of the industry. Some sex workers profit well from their work, but the sex trade as a whole is exploitative of the women and men who work within it.”
In her landmark report “Prostitution and violence against women and girls“, published on 7 May 2024, the UN Special Rapporteur on Violence against Women and Girls, Its Causes and Consequences, describes prostitution as “a system of violence, which reduces women and girls to commodities.” The report is a product of over 300 submissions from diverse stakeholders and seven online consultations with 86 experts and women with lived experiences from all continents. The Special Rapporteur concludes that, “Prostitution violates the rights of women and girls to dignity, and often constitutes torture, inhuman and degrading treatment. Physical forms of violence—mainly by sex act buyers—include sexual abuse, rape and gang rape, severe beatings, including for the victim’s refusal, lack of enthusiasm, or dissociation. . . . Women and girls are mutilated or burned, including with cigarettes. They have foreign objects inserted into their bodies, urinated, defecated and ejaculated upon, and can be forced to have unprotected sex. . . . As a result, they are often left with lasting disabilities. . . . Victims suffer from hypervigilance, anxiety, changed intimacy and sexual pleasure, lack of confidence, and suicidal ideation. . . . They may also suffer from pelvic floor degradation, urinary tract infection, bladder inflammation, fecal incontinence, infertility, cervical cancer, oral illnesses, or sleep disorders.”
The Special Rapporteur emphatically rejects the full decriminalization of prostitution. She writes, “By removing the illegality of third parties, decriminalization has aided traffickers, boosted sex tourism and expanded the overall size of the prostitution market. The continued high demand creates a massive incentive for exploiters to traffic and exploit vulnerable women, and has failed to discourage unsafe sexual practices and widened the spectrum of ‘offers’ to include even pregnant women, and attracted young women into the sex trade.”
Instead, the Special Rapporteur recommends the Nordic or equality model, which “maintains the international standard on the sexual exploitation of the prostitution of others and trafficking in persons by criminalizing third parties and decriminalizing prostituted persons, but adds the criminalization of buyers as the main actors who drive the demand and fuel the commercial sex industry.”
In this debate, it is important to acknowledge our common ground. Nearly all agree that the sale of sex by adults should not be criminalized. Our common goal should be to transform society so that no person is compelled to sell sex for survival.
In their recent book, When Men Buy Sex, Who Really Pays? Canadian Stories of Exploitation, Survival and Advocacy, Andrea Heinz and Kathy King share the following caution from LucianN: “If we accept that ‘sex work is work,’ the poor, low-educated, disabled, mentally-ill, addicted, migrants, refugees, homeless, victims of domestic violence, and all those who already fall through the cracks of our brutal unequal societies are going to be further pushed into prostitution whitewashed as ‘stable employment’.”
References
Bhattacharjya, M. et al. 2015. The Right(s) Evidence – Sex Work, Violence and HIV in Asia: A MultiCountry Qualitative Study. Bangkok: UNFPA, UNDP and APNSW (CASAM). http://asiapacific.unfpa.org/sites/default/files/pub-pdf/Rights-Evidence-Report-2015-final_0.pdf
Heinz, Andrea and Kathy King. 2024. When Men Buy Sex, Who Really Pays? Canadian Stories of Exploitation, Survival and Advocacy. FriesenPress.
ILO. 2005. HIV/AIDS and work in a globalizing world. https://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/@ed_protect/@protrav/@ilo_aids/documents/publication/wcms_116185.pdf
Norma, Caroline and Melinda Tankard Reist (eds). 2016. Prostitution Narratives: Stories of Survival in the Sex Trade. Spinifex Press.
UNAIDS. 2007. UNAIDS Guidance Note HIV and Sex Work: April 2007. No Place: Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS. https://nordicmodelnow.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/unaids-guidance-note-april-2007.pdf
UNDP. 2012. Sex Work and the Law in Asia and the Pacific: Laws, HIV, and Human Rights in the Context of Sex Work. Bangkok: UNDP Asia-Pacific Regional Centre. https://www.undp.org/sites/g/files/zskgke326/files/publications/HIV-2012-SexWorkAndLaw.pdf
UNICEF. 2001. Profiting from abuse. An investigation into the sexual exploitation of our children.
WHO Regional Office for the Western Pacific 2001. STI/HIV Sex Work in Asia. World Health Organization Regional Office for the Western Pacific. https://clearimpression.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/who-2001-hiv-sex_work_asia.pdf
Benchmarks for agro-ecological accounting
In 2003, I compiled a list of conversion factors for agro-ecological accounting for an on-farm ecological accounting project that I was doing at a 135-acre organic farm in Tamil Nadu, India. I presented papers about the project at the first and third conferences of the Indian Society for Ecological Economics in Bangalore and Kolkata, respectively.
I have uploaded the benchmarks list to make it available to any other scholars who are doing such research. It is available here.
I was guided in my research by the late Marty Bender, who directed the Land Institute’s Sunshine Farm Project in Salina, Kansas.
UNICEF calls for prostitution’s normalisation. Why?
I must acknowledge an error in my recently published novel, Object of Desire.
Object of Desire is set in India in 2031, four years after India has enacted The Right to Sex (Protection of Sex Workers’ Rights and Public Health) Act, fully decriminalising prostitution nationwide on the recommendation of the World Health Organization, UNAIDS, other UN bodies, and major philanthropic foundations.
Object of Desire explores the aftermath of prostitution’s decriminalisation through the story of Anbu, an 18-year-old woman who is compelled by her family’s dire circumstances to do prostitution after they are displaced by sea level rise.
While Anbu is in one of the several megabrothels in the city of Bengaluru, she is booked by a sex buyer named John who works for UNICEF in India. In the story, John says that UNICEF has not advocated the decriminalisation of prostitution, because that was what I believed when I wrote the novel. Although I have read many UN documents that pertain to public health (especially HIV control), I was unaware that in June 2017 UNICEF signed a joint UN statement that called for “… repealing punitive laws … that criminalize or otherwise prohibit … adult consensual sex work …”
I learned of this joint statement only this month, when I read a position paper published last month by the UN Human Rights Special Procedures Working Group on discrimination against women and girls. The Working Group’s mandate is, “Eliminating discrimination against sex workers and securing their human rights.”
The character’s statement in Object of Desire that UNICEF doesn’t advocate the decriminalisation of prostitution is clearly incorrect. John should have said that UNICEF advocates prostitution’s decriminalisation.
I would like to hear UNICEF’s rationale for their position. UNICEF is mandated by the United Nations General Assembly to advocate for the protection of children’s rights, to help meet their basic needs and to expand their opportunities to reach their full potential.
Does UNICEF really believe that the normalisation of prostitution will expand children’s opportunities to reach their full potential?
In her memoir, Paid For: My Journey through Prostitution, Rachel Moran writes, “It would not be possible to depict prostitution as pleasurable or even moderately tolerable were the fullness of its ugliness laid bare. … We need to look at the proven consequences of the legalisation of prostitution and ask ourselves, in short, are we happy with the sort of world it creates? And is it one we want to live in?”
Is UNICEF happy with the world that prostitution’s legalisation has created for the girls and young women working in the megabrothel in Daulatdia, Bangladesh, where half of the “sex workers” are thought to be under the age of 18? The conditions in the brothel are clearly shown in Tania Rashid’s courageous documentary, Sex, Slavery, and Drugs in Bangladesh.
If anyone can point me to more statements from UNICEF regarding their endorsement of prostitution’s decriminalisation, I will be most grateful.
United Nations Working Group advocates the full decriminalisation of men’s commercial sexual exploitation of women
In September, the United Nations Working Group on discrimination against women and girls issued a disturbing position paper that deserves attention, discussion, and rejection.
The mandate of the Working Group on discrimination against women and girls (the Working Group) is, “Eliminating discrimination against sex workers and securing their human rights”.
Toward such ends, the Working Group’s position paper proposes prostitution’s full decriminalisation. In their view, the decriminalisation of prostitution, “holds the greatest promise to address systemic discrimination and violence and the impunity for the violations of sex workers’ rights. It also constitutes the approach best suited to enhancing their rights to health and other socio-economic rights, freedom from torture, inhuman or degrading treatment, right to private life, and freedom from discrimination.”
However, the Working Group’s paper doesn’t explain how decriminalisation will do any of these things. The Group appears to expect us to accept their proposal on faith. It is deeply troubling that this UN Working Group can imagine no better way of protecting the human rights of prostituting women than by normalising their abuse.
The Working Group claims that, to inform this position paper, “in May 2023 consultations were held with sex workers from different regions of the world.” However, details of the consultations’ methods, scope, and findings are not shared. The Working Group completely disregards the views of prostitution survivors who oppose decriminalisation, such as Rachel Moran, who has called prostitution, “the commercialisation of sexual abuse,” and Mia Döring, who has described the sex trade as, “compensated sexual violation.”
In the Working Group’s opinion, debates about sex work are “counterproductive,” so they see no reason to hear or consider opposing views. The Working Group’s disdain for debate is very much in keeping with the UN’s intolerance toward open and transparent discussion about prostitution. For example, in 2016, the UN shut down UN Women’s public global consultation on prostitution, which UN Women had initiated to inform a position paper on prostitution. UN Women’s position paper never materialised.
In 2017, UN Women signed a joint UN statement recommending the repeal of laws that criminalise prostitution. But in October 2019, UN Women’s executive director Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka announced, “UN Women has taken a neutral position on this issue. Thus, UN Women does not take a position for or against the decriminalization/legalization of prostitution/sex work.”
The Working Group’s position paper, issued last month, claims that UN Women still supports decriminalisation, disregarding UN Women’s declaration of neutrality.
The Working Group claims that there is a, “growing consensus by international human rights and other international bodies on full decriminalisation of adult voluntary sex work.” But no such consensus exists, and opposition to full decriminalisation is spreading.
The Working Group says that it is not necessary to define sex work. In fact, they make no mention whatsoever of what men routinely do to women in prostitution, because the Working Group knows that Rachel Moran is correct when she writes, “It would not be possible to depict prostitution as pleasurable or even moderately tolerable were the fullness of its ugliness laid bare.”
The main problem with the Working Group’s paper is their failure to acknowledge what prostitution’s decriminalisation will actually do. They pitch decriminalisation as something that will magically protect prostituting women’s rights to freedom from torture and inhuman and degrading treatment, and to the enjoyment of the highest attainable standard of physical and mental health.
But decriminalisation won’t safeguard prostituting women’s rights or health or safety. Rather, decriminalisation reifies men’s right to sexually use women, and the right of people (primarily men) to profit from facilitating such use. The decriminalisation of prostitution will overwhelmingly advantage men.
See this petition for more analysis of the Working Group’s position paper.
The United Nations aims to decriminalise prostitution in over 90% of nations by 2025. Will this create a world that we want to live in?
The United Nations, through the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS) and UNAIDS’ Global HIV Prevention Coalition, aims to decriminalise prostitution in over 90% of nations by 2025. (1)
Decriminalisation would legalise brothel running, pimping, buying sex, and selling sex.
According to the Global HIV Prevention Coalition, “Investments in societal enablers in low and middle-income countries need to increase from US$ 1.3 billion in 2019 to US$ 3.1 billion in 2025.” (2) By “societal enablers,” they mean, “Annual briefings with senior legislators and/or policy-makers. Semi-annual dialogues on actions to address legal and policy barriers (e.g., criminalisation).”
In other words, the UN advocates that nations should spend billions of dollars to lobby legislators to persuade them to decriminalise prostitution.
The Global HIV Prevention Coalition says that by this month (February 2023) all nations should have defined and should be implementing specific actions to address policy and structural barriers (to decriminalisation).
The UN advocates decriminalising prostitution ostensibly to slow the spread of HIV and to reduce deaths from AIDS. UNAIDS claims, “Modelling indicates that failure to reach the targets for stigma and discrimination, criminalization and gender equality will prevent the world from achieving the other ambitious targets in the Strategy and will lead to an additional 2.5 million new HIV infections and 1.7 million AIDS-related deaths between 2020 and 2030.” (1)
I have already written about problems with the model and a study used by UNAIDS to promote decriminalisation.
Nordic Model Now has also described the problems with citing the predictions of models as scientific evidence.
Models are little more than wishful thinking.
I oppose UNAIDS’ campaign to normalise prostitution, because of the testimony of women who have done prostitution. Based on their descriptions of their experiences, I expect that prostitution’s decriminalisation will be a human rights and public health disaster.
My view of prostitution changed dramatically after reading Rachel Moran’s memoir, Paid For: My Journey Through Prostitution. Moran wrote, “It would not be possible to depict prostitution as pleasurable or even moderately tolerable were the fullness of its ugliness laid bare.”
Moran described prostitution as, “the commercialisation of sexual abuse.”
And in Any Girl: A Memoir of Sexual Exploitation and Recovery, Mia Döring, wrote, “The sex trade is compensated sexual violation.”
But perhaps the most powerful case against decriminalisation is made by Tania Rashid’s documentary, Sex, Slavery, and Drugs in Bangladesh, about young women in a megabrothel in Daulatdia, Bangladesh, where prostitution is legal.
When watching Rashid’s documentary or reading the work of Rachel Moran or Mia Döring, it is important to keep in mind that this is the future that the United Nations advocates for young women everywhere.
One should keep in mind the following questions from Rachel Moran: “We need to look at the proven consequences of the legalisation of prostitution and ask ourselves, in short, are we happy with the sort of world it creates? And is it one we want to live in?”
References
- Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS). No date. Global AIDS Strategy 2021–2026: End Inequalities. End AIDS. Geneva: UNAIDS.
- Global HIV Prevention Coalition. No date. HIV Prevention 2025 Road Map: Getting on track to end AIDS as a public health threat by 2030. Geneva: UNAIDS.
Another question about the science that UNAIDS cites to support its campaign to decriminalize prostitution
I continue to find problems with the research that UNAIDS uses to justify its demand that all countries decriminalize prostitution.
In 2017, I wrote this piece, drawing attention to the problematic assumptions of the mathematical model that UNAIDS cites to support its decriminalization campaign.
Nordic Model Now! also critiqued UNAIDS’ use of models in this post.
In their Global AIDS Update 2022, UNAIDS claims that a recent study in sub-Saharan Africa by Carrie Lyons et al. (2020), “found that HIV prevalence among sex workers was seven times lower in countries that had even partially decriminalized sex work, compared to countries that maintained a criminalizing approach to sex work.”
But Lyons et al. mentioned no such finding.
Lyons et al. reported that HIV prevalence was 39.4% among 4,087 prostituting women surveyed in five countries that criminalized prostitution and 11.6% among 1,907 prostituting women in three countries that partially legalized prostitution. 11.6 is 29.4% of 39.4, so the HIV prevalence among respondents in criminalized settings was around 3.4 times the rate among respondents in partially legalized settings. Or, around two-and-a-half times larger. Seven times lower than 39.4 is 4.9, not 11.6.
There are two particular problems that I see with the design of Lyons et al.’s study: their use of Cote d’Ivoire and Senegal as examples of partially legalized settings.
Lyons et al. included Cote d’Ivoire as one of the three nations that have partially legalized prostitution. But, according to Emily Namey et al. (2018), the experience of women who sell sex in Cote d’Ivoire is “much the same as if sex work were fully prohibited by law: sex work typically takes place clandestinely, and FSWs (i.e., female sex workers) are stigmatized and without legal recourse in reporting abuses.”
Another “partially legalized” country in Lyons et al.’s study was Senegal, where prostituting women are required to register with the government. Prostituting women who do not register “may incur a prison sentence of between 2 and 6 months” if caught by the police.
But Seiro Ito, Aurélia Lépine & Carole Treibich (2018) reported that, “The fear of becoming a social outcast acts as a main barrier to registration and explains that 80% of FSWs in Senegal (Foley & Nguer 2010) and 57% in the capital city, Dakar, are not registered (APAPS & IRESSEF 2015).”
That is, four fifths of the female sex workers in Senegal work illegally, because they don’t register.
I believe that these facts—1) that the environment for prostituting women in Cote d’Ivoire is “much the same as if sex work were fully prohibited by law,” and 2) that 80% of prostituting women in Senegal work illegally—raise a serious question about Lyons et al.’s decision to include these two countries in the “partially legalized” arm of their study.
If prostituting women in Cote d’Ivoire work in an environment that is “much the same as if sex work were fully prohibited by law,” and 80% of prostituting women in Senegal work illegally, are these really different than a criminalized environment?
References
APAPS & IRESSEF. 2015. Enquête nationale de surveillance combinée des ist et du vih/sida (ensc). Technical report.
Foley EE & R Nguer. 2010. Courting success in HIV/AIDS prevention: The challenges of addressing a concentrated epidemic in Senegal. African Journal of AIDS Research 9(4):325–336.
Ito S, A Lépine & C Treibich. 2018. The effect of sex work regulation on health and well-beingof sex workers: Evidence from Senegal. Health Economics 27(11):1627-1652. doi.org/10.1002/hec.3791
Lyons C et al. 2020. The role of sex work laws and stigmas in increasing HIV risks among sex workers. Nature Communications. 11(773). doi.org/10.1038/s41467-020-14593-6
Namey E et al. 2018. Understanding the financial lives of female sex workers in Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire: implications for economic strengthening interventions for HIV prevention. AIDS Care 30:S3: 6–17. doi.org/10.1080/09540121.2018.1479031
UNAIDS. 2022. IN DANGER: UNAIDS Global AIDS Update 2022. Geneva: Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS. https://www.unaids.org/sites/default/files/media_asset/2022-global-aids-update_en.pdf
The Right To Sex: Srinivasan’s cry for help
“The Right To Sex is an accurate critical summary of woke feminism: clarity in theory, amoral mess in practice.” – Mary Harrington
If you were a greengrocer in Soviet Czechoslovakia, it would be prudent to display, in your window, a poster proclaiming: “Workers of the world, unite.” This is the famous example Vaclav Havel used, inThe Power of the Powerless(1978), to illustrate mass conformity to Communist dogma. Havel’s greengrocer probably never thinks about that slogan, let alone believes it; he puts it obediently in his window to signal compliance with the regime. As Havel puts it: “If he were to refuse, there could be trouble.”
I was reminded of Havel’s greengrocer when readingThe Right To Sex, a much-lauded new book on women and feminism by Amia Srinivasan — the holder of Oxford University’s prestigious Chichele professorship of social and political theory, a position previously held by luminaries such as Isaiah Berlin.
Despite — or perhaps because of — her standing, she opens the book with a statement typically…
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“The time has never been more appropriate for serious discussion of what propaganda is and its careful study by the people generally.” – Mark Crispin Miller
NYU professor of media, culture, and communication, Mark Crispin Miller, has argued here, here, and here that the ability to recognize and critically assess propaganda is a vital skill, because, throughout the Covid pandemic, people everywhere have been continuously subjected to an unprecedented global propaganda juggernaut that keeps “millions upon millions in ferocious ignorance.”
Miller warns that, if the public is unable to recognize and reject propaganda, “Looming sequels to the Covid propaganda [will] also inflict a vast amount of further suffering on humanity.”
Propaganda is used to deceive, divide, silence, terrify, and confuse the public in order to align their beliefs and behaviour with the agenda of those in power.
Propaganda can be recognized by its hallmark, censorship. Miller points out that, “Propaganda always entails censorship. It must, because propaganda does not seek to persuade. It seeks to push you into a particular point of view. So, it doesn’t try to make arguments. It doesn’t try to make a reasonable case. It doesn’t use reason at all, actually. It tends to be almost a neurological manipulation.”
The purpose of censorship is to create and preserve an illusion that consensus exists around an official or authorized plan or story. That is, censorship shields the official story from debate and dispute.
Shir-Raz et al. have examined the use of censorship and suppression to silence, exclude, denigrate, and discredit doctors and scientists who have challenged Covid propaganda.
One such scientist and physician, Dr. Robert W. Malone, has expanded on the work of Shir-Raz et al., drawing on his own experience.
Malone concludes, “The Chinese Communist Party censorship policies and practices which we once ridiculed, the ham handed propaganda of the former Soviet Union, have become assimilated and normalized throughout the west.”
Propaganda promoting the decriminalization of prostitution
While documenting public health programmes that aim to prevent HIV transmission, I became aware of and concerned about the use of propaganda by the United Nations and other organizations that are campaigning to decriminalize prostitution, ostensibly because they expect that decriminalization will empower people in prostitution to access comprehensive HIV prevention and treatment services and to seek help from the police when they are the victims of crime or violence.
According to UNAIDS, “Decriminalisation of sex work should include removing criminal laws and penalties for purchase and sale of sex, management of sex workers and brothels, and other activities related to sex work (e.g., pimping, the production and distribution of pornography, exotic dancing, etc.).”
An example of such propaganda is the UNFPA’s State of the World Population 2021 report, My Body Is My Own: Claiming the Right to Autonomy and Self-Determination.
In a section called “When sex is work”, the UNFPA uses testimony from only two women in prostitution—Liana in Indonesia and Monika in North Macedonia—to support the following key messages:
- prostitution is compatible with bodily autonomy,
- sex workers freely choose to do prostitution,
- sex workers want prostitution to be decriminalized, and
- sex work is work.
Because it is propaganda, the report excludes testimony from people with experience in prostitution who disagree with these messages.
Nordic Model Now! has collected and published testimony by women about their experiences in prostitution. These testimonies demonstrate that the UNFPA’s report presents an unbalanced and therefore misleading impression of the views of sex workers.
Here I provide excerpts from these testimonies and from other sources to illustrate views that UNFPA’s propaganda censors.
Bodily autonomy
The report defines bodily autonomy as, “the power and agency to . . . decide whether, when or with whom to have sex. It means making your own decisions about when or whether you want to become pregnant. It means the freedom to go to a doctor whenever you need one.”
Although bodily autonomy is the theme of the UNFPA’s 2021 report, and the report promotes prostitution’s decriminalization, the report does not explain prostitution’s compatibility with women’s bodily autonomy. The UNFPA either feels this compatibility is axiomatic or inexplicable.
Instead of explaining how bodily autonomy exists in prostitution, the “When sex is work” section opens with the following remark from Liana:
“Knowing that I have a say and that I’m in control of my own body, I really only learned those things after becoming a sex worker.”
Apparently, the UNFPA expects readers to accept, on the basis of Liana’s remark, that prostitution does not compromise or jeopardize women’s bodily autonomy.
The UNFPA excludes the voices of women who testify that prostitution and bodily autonomy are not compatible, such as the following examples.
Chrissy wrote, “It didn’t take long for the false sense of control to wear off. I had no choice on who I had to fuck or how they wanted to fuck me. They called the shots. My body was no longer my own. Finally, I got away from the brothels. . . . I’ll never be who I should have been, because someone sold me the lie of taking control.”
In Any Girl: A Memoir of Sexual Exploitation and Recovery, Mia Döring wrote, “Being paid to have sex on someone else’s terms is the farthest thing from sexual autonomy that exists.”
In Paid For: My Journey Through Prostitution, Rachel Moran wrote, “Sexual self-governance is only possible for anyone where they are not influenced to make decisions regarding their sexuality based on circumstances beyond their control. Quite clearly, the necessary conditions for authentic sexual autonomy do not exist in the prostitution experience.”
Choice
The UNFPA acknowledges that “sex trafficking is a serious concern within the industry [and] many entrants into sex work have . . . a history of childhood poverty, abuse, and family instability, as well as barriers to the formal economy, including lack of education, . . . conditions that undermine their free and informed consent.”
Liana and Monika entered prostitution at difficult moments in their lives—Liana entered when her baby was four months old, her husband had died, and her income did not stretch far enough, and, at the age of 19 or 20, Monika “became a sex worker after she lost her job and got divorced”—but the UNFPA sees no connection between the women’s circumstances and their entry into prostitution. Instead, the UNFPA is oddly emphatic that Liana and Monika “freely chose” sex work.
The UNFPA excludes the views of women who condemn the weaponization of their “choice”.
Chelsea Geddes, who spent more than 20 years in prostitution in New Zealand, where prostitution was decriminalized in 2003, has argued, “This is what’s being said by the propaganda to facilitate a massive switch of blame, from the perpetrators of the abuse onto the victims. The unspoken part of ‘it’s a woman’s choice,’ is ‘therefore, it’s her fault.’”
Tara similarly regards “choice” more as an accusation than an explanation:
“When I first started telling people about the time I spent in a brothel, being paid to submit to what I can only describe as sexual abuse, I was made to feel ashamed when people would ask ‘Why did you go back then?’
I was assaulted on my first night. So why did I go back?
Well, I was homeless and couldn’t afford to feed myself, so there’s obviously that. If I had been properly supported by the benefits and housing system, I would never have been [in prostitution].
But it was also because of the very same shame that rises up in me when I’m asked that question. Shame that comes from the stories people tell about ‘prostitutes.’
Like ‘once a prostitute always a prostitute.’ Or ‘some women are made for it.’ Or ‘you can’t rape a prostitute.’
To put it simply, once it had happened, I thought that I would never be good for anything else ever again. That no-one would ever want me ever again.
By positing prostitution as a choice rather than coercion, it is not a huge step to see how women in prostitution could be accused of choosing to take risks, just as women are so often blamed for what they wear, where they go, or who they talk to.
The stigma experienced here is that of being ‘a victim.’ It is a much-documented phenomenon that while the fact of having been a victim of abuse should be a statement of an event that has occurred rather than a slur on one’s character, there are few more reviled words.
Victim blaming, particularly of women who have experienced sexual violence, assault or exploitation, is widespread in our society across all classes and sectors. By seeking to reject the fact that prostitution is violence, lobbyists often employ a particularly acute form of victim-blaming that goes unchallenged in a way it would not in any other context.
When pro-sex trade campaigners seek to shame and silence sex trade survivors speaking up about often horrific exploitation, this is victim shaming and gas-lighting at its finest.
Trying to erase abuse for one’s own agenda, however well-meaning, ultimately means siding with the perpetrator. As any former victim of abuse knows too well, being silenced or disbelieved can be as emotionally traumatic as the abuse itself.
As prostitution survivors, we know this only too well.”
Ella Zorra’s testimony makes it clear that her “choice” of prostitution was forced (as was Tara’s):
“I was alone in London at eighteen. It was the lack of options and choice, the inability to see a way out, [that] pushed me into survival mode. I was running from destitution and to this day remain terrified of homelessness. I entered prostitution because I needed money. I had three options: sleep in the street, sleep with my abusive ex-boyfriend, or sleep with men for money and support myself. I was eighteen and I couldn’t support myself with a 9-to-5 minimum-wage job.”
These testimonies indicate that the UNFPA’s emphasis on “choice” to explain why Liana and Monika entered prostitution fails to acknowledge the strength and variety of factors that drive and constrain women’s decisions.
The UNFPA censors women such as Chelsea and Tara, who argue that the “it was her free choice” explanation is a dangerous and inaccurate simplification of many women’s entry into prostitution.
The UNFPA excludes questions that women have raised about the adequacy and accuracy of “choice” as an explanation of women’s entry in prostitution.
For example, Rachel Moran has suggested, “It would be useful to question why, if prostitution is a choice for women which can be taken with such ease, so many women have to be deceived and enslaved in order to do it.”
And Catharine MacKinnon has asked, “If prostitution is a free choice, why are the women with the fewest choices the ones most often found doing it?”
Decriminalization
Although the UNFPA provides no quote from Liana or Monika calling for prostitution’s decriminalization, the report claims that Liana and Monika “want to see the criminalization—and prosecution—of sexual violence and exploitation rather than sex work.”
The UNFPA excludes testimony from women who oppose decriminalization, creating the illusion that sex workers only support decriminalization.
But testimony from women in prostitution makes it clear that some strongly oppose the complete decriminalization of sex work, which the UN promotes. In some of the following examples, it is clear that the women oppose decriminalization because prostitution deprived them of bodily autonomy.
Alice Glass, who spent 10 years in prostitution, has documented the views of such women. In conversations with four women—Laura, Chelsea, Alisa, and Rebecca—Glass asked if they or women they know support decriminalization.
Laura, who was in prostitution in the UK, responded:
“I do not agree with full decriminalisation at all. I have worked in around 20 or more brothels over the years. It’s women lining up in lingerie to be picked. It’s degrading and humiliating and should never be legal. Also the tiny amount of money you make per customer in brothels, once management take their cut (cut taken is at least a third by more generous bosses and half by others) means you have to see lots and lots of men per day, one after the other.
The prices are set by the brothels themselves and are usually very cheap to encourage high customer numbers. You only get breaks when there are no customers. And you can’t choose to refuse customers except under very exceptional circumstances (and that’s only with better bosses). If you do, you would not be allowed to work there, even if you refuse customers because they are rude or smelly.”
Chelsea, still working in a decriminalised brothel in New Zealand, described her experience:
“My experience at the brothel is of terrorism. It is a constant battle to uphold even the most minimal personal boundaries such as safer sex practices like condoms and dental dams and no saliva transference (kissing) and not doing the deed more than once for a guy without being paid more than once. I definitely find it extremely difficult to even get bookings because most of the time I attempt to assert these minimal of boundaries.”
“What do her current prostitution contemporaries thinks of decriminalisation?” Glass asked.
“I’m skeptical that any prostituted women supporting full decriminalisation even exist at all,” Chelsea said. “I’ve never met a single woman with that view in my 15 years in the industry and I’ve met hundreds of other prostituted women.”
Rebecca was particularly scathing:
“I tend to believe the sex work lobby is speaking for punters (i.e., sex buyers / clients) and sex trade profiteers, and have no interest in the mental, physical, and sexual welfare of the prostituted. So when they speak about decriminalisation, it is so the sex trade makes more profit, and to make the violence of punters more invisible.”
Alisa, a campaigner who is on the board of directors for The Organisation for Prostitution Survivors, in Seattle, summarised:
“I think [decriminalization] comes down to a normalisation of sex buying as an acceptable practice. When we see something as OK, we are more accepting of it and more likely to do it. Demand therefore balloons and there are not enough women under-privileged enough to enter the sex trade without coercive forces; it is inevitable that trafficking follows to feed the newly increased demand for women’s bodies.
[Decriminalization] creates a legitimised market for both buyers and traffickers and turns the pimp into the reputable business man peddling flesh. It’s evident that keeping women on their backs is profitable by just looking at the organisation and people who support it (madams, pimps, pornographers, traffickers). It’s sick that this argument even exists.”
Other testimonies in which women address decriminalization include the following:
“My name is Jaime and I am the hidden result of the real horror behind the closed red doors of the sex trade industry here in Australia.
Decriminalizing prostitution in countries that I know, like Australia and New Zealand, has sent the message that it’s OK to buy and sell people like pieces of meat at market. My observations of it since leaving 20 years ago is that it’s caused an explosion in men or women with large amounts of money, mostly obtained through illegal activities, to invest in the creation and building of more brothels to fill the demand of men who want the freedom to abuse and commit violence towards people.
They target the most vulnerable ones in our societies and exploit them for profit that fills their wallets.”
Siobhan submitted the following, in which she described her experience in the legal sex trade in New Zealand and Australia:
“I live (and work) in a country / city where this industry is legal. People think this means it is regulated and therefore safe for both punters and workers. But this is an ideal, not the reality. The reality is the men who buy sex are most often not respectful, and if they rape or assault they do not face consequences (which I believe is why they feel able to rape a prostitute in the first place).
I believe that legalised prostitution simply strengthens and emboldens misogynistic attitudes and actions in the men of that society.
Because it’s a legal industry and there’s no threat of arrest, these men feel free and safe walking into the brothel and delight in dismissing, mocking and laughing in the faces of the women working there. Or worse. They book a session and they rape or assault the worker.
The response of punters to the worker setting boundaries is almost always incredulity or fury. Because of the confidence they feel due to it being a legal industry, these men see paying for sex as a service or product like any other, and often truly believe a boundary of ‘No, I don ’t consent to that being done to my body’ is tantamount to bad customer service, and indeed ‘theft’ of their money.
Human rights of workers are not enforced in legalised prostitution (despite what the pro-sex work community desperately wants you to believe). If they were, the majority of buyers would eventually be banned from venues, the police would be called constantly.
Legalised prostitution is not progressive, and it hurts everyone in the society in which it exists.
I hope we will eventually see the Nordic Model in New Zealand and Australia, so sex buyers finally face consequences for their choice to display and willingly act on their misogyny, entitlement, and lack of empathy.”
“Sex work is work”
The “When sex is work” section concludes with Monika’s declaration that “Sex work is work,” and excludes the views of women who disagree. In the following testimonies, women express their view that prostitution is not work.
Jaime, whose testimony also addressed decriminalization, wrote the following:
“It is my lived experience that gives me the right to say that sex work is not a job like any other job and nor should it ever be seen as such. The deaths and long term mental and physical illnesses caused by this industry are ever growing and uncountable in monetary terms for society as a whole.
There is a minute percentage of people who may come out unscathed from their time in it, but I’m here to tell you an unpopular truth: I’ve personally met well over a hundred women over the years who will never have a normal life again. Beaten, bashed, raped, killed – and that’s just me.”
Sara Smiles started in prostitution in New Zealand in 1988 when she was a homeless 14-year old. She eventually escaped in 2010 when she was in her late thirties. She therefore experienced the sex trade in New Zealand both before and after it was fully decriminalised in 2003. Sara wrote, “Prostitution is not a life and not work. Definitely not work. Paid rape most definitely.”
Jessica entered prostitution when she was 22. She wrote, “I regret having ever entered the industry. And I don’t think any woman should ever enter the industry. It is a truly sick and disturbing industry. No, sex work is not work.”
Liliam Altuntas, a Brazilian survivor of human trafficking and prostitution, observed,
“It is easy to say, ‘This body is mine and I do what I want and prostitution is a job.’ Only that body is not yours at some point, because when the client pays for those minutes, ‘your body’ is the client’s and he will do what he wants…
The sex workers that call for prostitution to be considered a job are mostly middle-class women who prostitute themselves for a new dress, a fashionable phone, and to make a good impression on a walk downtown on a sunny day…
And the men who are in favour of legalization are like ill-educated children who do not want to lose their ‘toys.’
I say this because a real prostitute—a woman who was coerced into it or entered because of the precarious conditions of extreme poverty, or because it’s the only way she knows how to survive after being deceived into believing the Pretty Woman fairy tale—knows that this is not a job.”
Chelsea Geddes wrote, “Decriminalised prostitution is being aggressively marketed to young girls as ‘sex work’, as an equal exchange between consenting adults, as harmless fun for men, and even as empowering for women. Well, it’s not.”
Other writers whose critiques of the “sex work is work” platitude are excluded by UNFPA include: Lori Watson, Dana Levy, IUF Asia/Pacific Regional Secretary Dr Muhammad Hidayat Greenfield, Esperanza Fonseca, Jasmine Grace Marino, Julie Bindel, and Rachel Moran, who wrote,
“The truth is, there was no ‘work’ involved in what was done to us in prostitution. Prostitution is neither sex nor work. Sex does not just involve mutuality; it necessitates it. The sex of prostitution is devoid of mutuality, and cash is introduced to fill the breach. In prostitution, the cash is the coercive force, the evidence of the coercion, and the great silencer all at the same time. What right to complaint is a woman seen to have when she’s been compensated for her own violation?”
My question here is not, Which view of sex work is correct? I think that’s clear.
My question is, Why is the UNFPA publishing propaganda to normalize the flesh trade and censoring the many women who, because of their experience in prostitution, oppose decriminalization?
Chelsea Geddes has clearly described what’s at stake if we don’t recognize and challenge the UN’s propaganda:
“The sex industry’s propaganda machine could potentially derail a whole generation of women’s success. Snatching young women on the brink of greatness capable of forging real careers in fields they’re interested in and have talent for, stealing them away from all that, to be ground up in the machine to serve male orgasms.”
Omission of the Nordic Model
The UNFPA doesn’t stop at censoring dissenters. It also refuses to acknowledge the existence of the Nordic Model approach to prostitution, which has been adopted by several nations.
The Nordic Model (sometimes also known as the Sex Buyer Law, or the Swedish, Abolitionist, or Equality Model) decriminalises all those who are prostituted, provides support services to help them exit, and makes buying people for sex a criminal offence, in order to reduce the demand that drives sex trafficking. This approach has now been adopted in Sweden, Norway, Iceland, Northern Ireland, Canada, France, Ireland, and most recently, Israel.
Why is the UNFPA campaigning to normalize rather than abolish the flesh trade?
Why does the UNFPA view prostitution as compatible with bodily autonomy, dignity, and human rights?
The UNFPA clearly recognizes the problem of patriarchy. Its report denounces patriarchal customs, beliefs, attitudes, systems, structures, norms, rules, and practices. How does the UNFPA fail to see prostitution as a patriarchal institution?
In The End of Patriarchy, Robert Jensen explains why attempts to reform prostitution (such as the UN’s campaign for full decriminalization) are flawed:
“Attempts to change the practice of prostitution to improve the lives of women can be well-intentioned, but the effects will be, at best, extremely limited because such reforms do not challenge the idea of prostitution. As long as men believe it is sexually exciting to use a woman, prostitution will be dangerous for women in the short term and will shore up patriarchy in the long term. The patriarchal reduction of a woman to the status of an object that can be sexually used by men is, and always will be, at odds with women’s claim to the dignity that comes with fully human status.”
If the UN really wants to help women, instead of propagandizing the public, it should facilitate open and serious discussion of how best to transform society so that no-one is compelled to sell sex for survival.
I leave the final word to Rachel Moran:
“It would not be possible to depict prostitution as pleasurable or even moderately tolerable were the fullness of its ugliness laid bare. . . . We need to look at the proven consequences of the legalisation of prostitution and ask ourselves, in short, are we happy with the sort of world it creates? And is it one we want to live in?”
Clear Impression Documentation Services 