By Brooks Anderson
Kat Banyard’s Pimp State deservedly ranks among the most noteworthy books critically analysing the sex trade, which comprises prostitution, the production and distribution of pornography (i.e., filmed prostitution), and exotic dancing (i.e., stripping). The book is very well-written, well-organised, and well-reasoned.
To inform the book, Banyard attended sex industry trade events and conferences; examined sex industry publications; reviewed a wide variety of literature; and interviewed sex buyers, law enforcement agents and legal experts, sex trade scholars, and women with years of experience in the sex industry.
A pivotal debate
In Pimp State, Kat Banyard rigorously scrutinises the global campaign to normalise the sex industry and makes a compelling case for the alternative: a world in which sex is not for sale.
Banyard wrote the book because the question of “how the state should deal with (the sex) trade is shaping up to be one of the big debates of our time” (p. 4). At stake, as she says in the title, is “the future of equality.”
On one side of the debate are advocates or proponents of a “pimp state,” which Banyard defines as “a society where commercial sexual exploitation is promoted, not prevented” (p. 10), and as “a culture and set of laws that encourage and facilitate men’s paid sexual access to women’s bodies.” (p. 6)
In a pimp state, all roles in the sex industry are either legalised (i.e., permitted but regulated) or decriminalised (i.e., permitted and unregulated).
On the other side of the debate are those who believe that, “paying a person for sex acts, and third-party profiteering from it, is commercial sexual exploitation. And it’s high time it took its rightful place on the list of things labelled not for sale … because of unavoidable harm to those involved, because of the risk of exploitation of the most vulnerable, (and) because it clashes with the very principles of equality and democracy, let alone their practical realisation.” (p. 224)
Opponents of pimp states, such as Banyard, advocate the sex industry’s abolition in order to realise “an equal future–free of the violence that is the sex trade.” (p. 231)
What’s at stake in this debate – or, why this debate matters
This debate matters because the sex trade’s legalisation has “dire implications for the status of women and girls.” (160)
The status of all women and girls is in jeopardy because “the (sex) industry entails the direct sexual abuse of some women, while simultaneously powering a toxic culture of objectification that affects all women. In the story of the status of women, the sex trade is no side-show.” (p. 10)
Banyard argues that the sex industry’s acceptance affects not just women, but the entire society: “A market in sexual exploitation, accepted and tolerated, influences who we all are as individuals, and who we are as a people.” (p. 90)
According to Banyard, by campaigning for full decrimalisation, the sex trade lobby “is making a concerted bid for states to re-inscribe the sexual subjection of women, albeit somewhat more between the lines this time. Because responding to the present demand for the sex trade by boosting, not blocking, the ability of pimps and pornographers to pump out profits from it re-institutionalises male sexual entitlement—that antideluvian cultural current that says men have a right to access women’s bodies, regardless of whether the desire is mutual. It is the collective arms of the state responding to violence against women not by damping down the conditions for it, but by putting a rocket up it—by helping to attach a profit motive.” (pp. 9–10)
Toxic myths
Banyard structures the book around her refutation of six “toxic myths” (p. 6) that feature in the propaganda of decriminalisation’s proponents. She writes, “The sex trade boils down to a very simple product concept: an individual—usually a man—can pay to have sexual interaction with someone—usually a woman—who doesn’t freely want to have it with him … The sex trade manufactures consent; the result is commercial sexual exploitation on an industrial scale. So it is understandable why third parties who enjoy the profits and ‘consumers’ who enjoy the privilege would find common cause in masking this reality with myths.” (p. 7)
Advocates of decriminalisation must use myths to conceal the sex trade’s true nature because any accurate depiction of what men routinely do to women in paid sexual encounters immediately exposes the sex trade as a violent, exploitative enterprise.
In each chapter of Pimp State, Banyard thoroughly examines and corrects one of the following myths:
- Demand for the sex trade is inevitable.
- Being paid for sex is regular service work.
- Porn is fantasy.
- Objecting to the sex trade makes you a pearl-clutching, sexually conservative prude.
- Decriminalise the entire prostitution trade and you make women safe.
- Resistance is futile.
Banyard decisively refutes these myths by exposing the falsehood and absurdity in each. Here, I summarise her points.
Myth 1: Demand for the sex trade is inevitable
In Chapter 1, Banyard explains that demand is malleable, not immutable. Demand for paid sex can be reduced by teaching men and boys that women’s consent cannot be purchased, and that “the very act of paying someone to participate in sex acts is abusive.” (p. 67) Furthermore, demand for paid sex can be limited by prohibiting the purchase of sex. That is, many men won’t buy sex if doing so isn’t legal.
Myth 2: Being paid for sex is regular service work.
In Chapter 2, Banyard explains why the sex industry is trying to pass off prostitution as dignified work. Banyard does a masterful job of explaining why and how the sex industry uses linguistic chicanery to hide the abuse that is inherent to the sex trade. She writes, “Engaging with [prostitution] first and foremost as a labour issue, using the term ‘sex work’ as if it was an adequate and appropriate shorthand for what takes place in strip clubs, porn sets and brothels, serves a deeply political goal. Not only does this framework shrink the field of analysis to the ‘seller’ (to the exclusion of men’s demand and its social impact); crucially, it hides what should be front and centre of our response to the transaction: the inherent sexual abuse.” (pp. 90–91)
“The ‘sex work’ frame demands that people think and speak about the practice of men paying women to have sex with them as if it were a mundane consumer transaction. It demands a denial of the misogyny, objectification and sexual violence at its very core, and functions as a kind of linguistic crowd control.” (p. 92) This form of thought control is strictly enforced by UNAIDS, which mandates the use of ‘sex work’ and disallows the use of ‘prostitution’ in all of its publications.
To assess the appropriateness of ‘sex work’ as a descriptor of prostitution, Banyard asks a woman named Crystal what she thinks about her experiences in brothels being labelled as ‘sex work’. Crystal says, “All that does is make it seem OK … It minimises the harm … you’re naked, being touched intimately by a stranger, being fucked by a stranger, having them whisper sick things in your ear about your body and how dirty you are and how you like what they’re doing—as if! I tried to dissociate but that is only ever partially possible … It is the ultimate invasion: they are in your head and they are inside your body.” (p. 91)
Banyard concludes, “As the euphemism that is ‘sex work’ takes root in everyday speech, its power to lobotomise listeners grows. … A society that acts in law and language as if men who pay to sexually access women are simply consumers, legitimately availing workers of their services, is a society in deep denial about sexual abuse—and the sex inequality underpinning it.” (p. 93)
Myth 3: Porn is fantasy
In Chapter 3, Banyard explains that porn is filmed prostitution, not fantasy. Banyard describes the porn industry as, “an industry dedicated to documenting and ratcheting up the sexual abuse of women.” (p. 107) She uses testimony of people with experience in the porn industry to show that porn production coerces performers to endure unwanted acts, and harms the performers. For example, former porn performer Vanessa Belmond, recounted, “after I was done with the shoot, I looked like I had been beaten up. I had red marks all over my body, and my eyes were so swollen that I looked like I had pink eye.” (p. 108)
Jessie, who worked in the porn industry, told Banyard, “People just need to wake up about the reality of porn images … It’s not a fantasy. They’re real human beings doing real things, and actually getting sick and getting hurt.” (p. 113)
And Banyard presents scholars’ findings which show that porn consumption fuels violence against women. (p. 116–117) She writes, “That the filmed prostitution peddled by porn studios inspires misogynistic beliefs and sexist violence isn’t a hunch. It’s not guesswork. It is the clear and consistent finding from over four decades of academic inquiry.” (p. 121)
Myth 4: Objecting to the sex trade makes you a pearl-clutching, sexually conservative prude
In Chapter 4, Banyard explains that opposition to the sex trade’s legalisation is driven by people’s awareness of its true nature, not moral panic. Many women oppose the sex trade’s full decriminalisation because of the trauma they personally experienced while in it. Banyard writes, “Feminist opposition to the sex trade is unequivocally rooted in recognition of the sexual objectification and abuse at the core of this phenomenon, as well as the harms meted out to all women and girls as it becomes embedded in society.” (p. 138)
Myth 5: Decriminalise the entire prostitution trade and you make women safe
In Chapter 5, Banyard explains that, rather than making women safe, decriminalising prostitution inflates the scale of women’s suffering by exposing more women to disease, trauma, abuse, and exploitation.
In this chapter, Banyard’s exposes the absurdity of the myth that decriminalising the sex trade is the only way that society can make the trade safe and healthy.
Banyard contends, “The notion that making pimping and brothel-keeping legal makes women safe is not only mythical, it’s farcical.” (p. 186)
“The fantastical notion that the interests of pimps, punters and women (both inside and outside the trade) happen to perfectly legally align now underpins a serious and sustained global push for countries to make all aspects of prostitution legal. At the core of this bid is the wholesale denial of the sexual abuse and objectification inherent to the sex trade, the sexist roots of its demand, and its dire implications for the status of women and girls. Total legalisation (or full ‘decriminalisation’) is the myth of prostitution as ‘sex work’ made into law.” (p. 160)
Banyard recounts the shocking and scandalous process by which UN agencies abandoned their role as defenders of human rights and became leading advocates of decriminalising the sex trade. She writes, “The story of how the call to legalise brothel-keeping and pimping came to be amplified through the global megaphone of UN agencies is one of catastrophic failings to identify and address violence against women; an ignominious part of history when humanitarian institutions wound up advocating for a ‘clean safe place’ for women to be abused in.” (pp. 186–187)
Incredibly, the global strategy of UNAIDS now explicitly aims to decriminalise prostitution in over 90% of countries by 2025.
Although Banyard dates the UN’s conversion to the cause of decriminalisation to the years 2007–2009, a piece published in The Lancet in 2001 reported WHO’s support for the decriminalisation of prostitution in Asia as early as 2000.
And, in an astounding display of cognitive dissonance, in 2006 UNAIDS called for the decriminalisation of ‘sex work’ in the same document in which they wrote, “in order to empower women to leave relationships or employment which threaten them with HIV infection … States should ensure women’s rights to … protection against sexual harassment at the workplace.”
One can’t comprehend how the UN could possibly reconcile its zealous advocacy for the decriminalisation of prostitution with its own definitions of sexual abuse, sexual exploitation, and sexual harassment.
Given that testimony and data from pimp states such as the Netherlands, Germany, and New Zealand demonstrate that “full legalisation or so-called decriminalisation simply magnifies (prostitution’s inherent and attendant) harms,” (p. 164) the UN also must explain why it doesn’t advocate the Sex Buyer Law—also known as the Nordic Model, Equality and Swedish Model—which aims to abolish the sex trade. Banyard argues that nations that have enacted the Sex Buyer Law have had greater success in reducing the scale and toll of the sex trade than nations that have decriminalised prostitution.
Banyard asserts that the Sex Buyer Law is a preferable approach because it acknowledges and addresses the primary driver of the sex trade: men’s demand. She writes, “prostitution is a form of violence against women that only exists because of male demand for the trade. That demand, and the institution of prostitution more widely, is a cause and a consequence of inequality between women and men, not an inevitable fact of life. The job of the state, then, is not to tolerate it, nor to regulate it, but to end it. Hence this ‘abolitionist’ approach is designed to target perpetrators while supporting those they victimise. It’s a three-pronged legal framework which criminalises paying for sex, decriminalises selling sex and provides support and exiting services for people exploited through prostitution.” (p. 192)
She writes, “What is inconvenient for groups wanting governments to enshrine brothel-keeping and pimping as legitimate jobs is that the effects of the Sex Buyer Law have so clearly exposed the fallacy of fatalism surrounding prostitution.” (p. 193)
Nations that have enacted the Sex Buyer Law have shown that it is possible to
- discourage men from buying sex by stigmatising paying for sex,
- deter traffickers, and
- facilitate women’s exit from prostitution.
Myth 6: Resistance is futile
In Chapter 6, Banyard refutes the myth of prostitution’s inevitability by presenting this juncture as a choice, giving readers a strategy for defeating the sex industry’s campaign
Although all of the preceding chapters are extremely incisive and persuasive, I consider this possibly the most important chapter of the book, because it empowers readers (a) by reminding us that our future is up to us and (b) by showing how we can collectively reject and defeat the sex industry’s campaign to globally decriminalise the sex trade.
Banyard writes, “Before us, a choice: accept that this will be an age in which society functions within cultural and legal lines laid out by pimps and pornographers, or don’t. … the sex trade is a phenomenon entirely of our own creation: industrial-scale commercial sexual exploitation, born of inequality, and midwifed by third-party profiteers—profiteers whose exploits get a helping hand from factors like abuse, neglect, racism and poverty. We made this. We can unmake it.” (p. 211. Emphasis mine.)
Banyard shows how we can collapse the global sexual exploitation trade by “pushing hard on six weak points in the system propping up pimps and pornographers.” (214-215) Those weak points are as follows:
- The sex trade is reliant on mainstream institutions, but they are not reliant on it.
- The sex trade needs men to regurgitate its myths or keep quiet.
- Setting limits to the market is hardly revolutionary. The effect will be.
- Laws against pimping apply to pimps with cameras.
- A growing movement is demanding change.
- ‘The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.’”
Conclusion
This review doesn’t do justice to this brilliant and important book. I hope that this review motivates people to buy and read Pimp State.
Pimp State heavily influenced my understanding and view of prostitution. Banyard’s writing shaped my depiction of a pimp state in my novel, Object of Desire, which explores the impact of prostitution’s decriminalisation on young women in India in the year 2031.
Pimp State: Sex, Money and the Future of Equality by Kat Banyard. 2016. Faber & Faber