Sex Traffic by Paola Monzini
In discussing the role of men in the current prostitution market*, Paola Monzini’s Sex Traffic: Prostitution, Crime and Exploitation offers all of two options: one—which she considers the traditional interpretation—revolves around what she calls the “supposed ‘irrepressibility’ of the male sexual impulse,” while the other (which she finds more interesting) centers on the sphere of prostitution as one which functions as “a kind of revenge or reaffirmation […] of men over women.” Note the spatial and sexual implications of the word “over.” Monzini dismisses the former idea as reducing men to a merely biological level of function, though certainly this element must play a part, as sex is, after all, a biological act. But she prefers to downplay the importance of the actual physical act, repeatedly stating that for most men the true satisfaction of the event lies in the negotiations preceding it, in the market contractuality of the ritual. Thus, instead of reducing men to the level of animals (an abhorrent proposition!), she instead reduces men to the level of emotional retardation, quoting one man who states that he chooses prostitution as a sexual outlet because it avoids relations that are either “too cerebral” (the relationship, which men are apparently incapable of dealing with intellectually) or “too physical” (for, as the irrepressibility of male sexual desire is mythical, the sexual act itself is only an embarrassing revelation of men’s physical limitations).
This latter point seems radically important, suggesting that contemporary culture has developed an image of male sexual performance which men are simply not capable of matching, yet Monzini does not address this issue. For her, prostitution is all about the market and economy, whether that economy be one of actual capital or of dominance. It is a natural enough approach, for one obvious reason, but more are involved, including the fact that a majority of prostitute’s customers are of elevated economic status and education, are generally married and of considerably greater age than the prostitute. Monzini reads this reality as reflecting an economy of dominance in which the male subject reduces the female prostitute to the level of object via an assertion of his economic superiority. Certainly there’s something correct about that, but it also reminds one inevitably of the conservative feminist reading of pornography. For years many feminists have argued that pornography contributes to the objectification of women, making them nothing more than objects of the voyeuristic male gaze. The male is seen as occupying a position of power in the relationship between woman-as-image and himself; in his clothed state he reaffirms his superiority over the vulnerable and exposed woman. What this reading often leaves out is, ironically, both the model’s subjectivity and the mechanisms (psychological, cultural and biological) that drive men to want to experience porn.
For me, both Monzini’s reading of prostitution and the conservative feminist reading of pornography reflect a pervasive academic squeamishness about acknowledging the biological factors at play in any economy of desire. Obviously we cannot afford to deny the import of other elements, but it would seem to me that a denial of the purely physical/sensual elements at play in such economies only contributes to our misunderstanding of their function.
On the other hand, I recognize that there is an undercurrent of defensiveness to the argument, even as strongly as I am convinced of the truth of that last statement, and it is perhaps the great strength of this book that despite its academic tone and constant citations, it is a truly challenging work. Given its subject matter, this isn’t a huge surprise. Many of us tend to think of our world as liberated, as beyond the brutal economies of sex slavery, and this book is—to employ an overused phrase—an eye-opener. But it is especially challenging for a male reader. I can’t help but feel implicated in the world that this book brings to light, though I have not, myself, ever paid for sexual services. No book on male patriarchy, Western European imperialism or white racism has, for me, remotely approached the sense of guilt and involvement that this book evokes, for here there is no comforting distance as there is the aforementioned texts.
I can claim to be a sensitive, feminist, politically liberal, non-racist male, but I cannot say that I have not thought, from time to time, about hiring a prostitute. There’s something about the ease and the formal legality of such an exchange that manages to simultaneously satisfy physical urges and deny the need for an emotional intimacy to match the physical closeness. And, yes, there is a trace of emotional retardation in the ideas that make prostitution attractive to men. This book is a revelation for any reader, but as a male, it is particularly challenging, and for that reason, I strongly recommend that any man who thinks of himself as sensitive, feminist, politically liberal and/or non-racist read this book. Readers should, however, keep in mind that this is an academic text and not a piece of popular scholarship, and may thus seem a bit dry or repetitive at times.
* Though Monzini recognizes the increasing willingness of women to pay for sex, men as consumers are still seen as the major demons of the trade.
