Tomorrow in my contemporary moral problem class, we begin a new unit, on sexual ethics. Before getting into the ethical questions, we’re spending some time, first, trying to define sex. It’s not as easy as one might think.
We start with a conservative religious definition:
sex … refers “either to the biological aspects of being male or female (i.e., a synonym for one’s gender) or to the expressions of sexuality, which have physical, emotional, and spiritual dimensions, particularly genital actions resulting in sexual intercourse and/or orgasm” (“Human Sexuality: A Catholic Perspective for Education and Lifelong Learning”, US Conference of Catholic Bishops, (1990,9)).
Lovemaking is an expression of vulnerability and intimacy, a two-in-one-flesh encounter, demanding a deep level of commitment and love for its natural fulfillment.
“Prior to or separated from the marital commitment, sexual intercourse ceases to be an expression of total self-giving” (Human Sexuality, 33). The bishops conclude that “outside of this ‘definitive community of life’ called marriage, however personally gratifying or well intended, genital sexual intimacy is objectively morally wrong” (Human Sexuality, 33).
Then we read an article by Alan Goldman called “Plain Sex” (clicking here will open it as a PDF) in which he argues against embedding any specific moral claim in the definition of sex. For example, the Catholic view embeds a host of of claims about the moral purpose of sex in their definition. Goldman calls such analyses “means-end” analyses, and he objects to them, because instead of finding the purpose of sex within sexual activity itself, they find it somewhere else (for example, procreation).
Goldman says,
“sexual desire is desire for contact with another person’s body and for the pleasure which such contact produces; sexual activity is activity which tends to fulfill such desire of the agent.” (268)
This looks better. It’s not that any and every instance of sex, as defined above, is morally acceptable. Goldman’s view is that a person brings his or her preferred morality to sex. So, for example, if Janice pretends to be Joan to get Jerry to have sex with her, this would likely be wrong if your favored morality holds that deception is wrong.
There are some problems with Goldman’s definition, though. One of them is how it handles sexual desire that seems wrong it itself. Just this week, for example, a Kansas City Catholic bishop was indicted for failing to report a pedophile priest to the police until months after he knew about it. In the interim, the priest continued to work with children, and took lewd pictures of little girls. If there is any kind of sexual desire that seems a good candidate for being inherently wrong, I would guess that is it.
Another wrinkle in Goldman’s definition is that it may be too broad. There are few things I enjoy so much as cuddling with my children, and even my dogs and cats. This meets Goldman’s definition of “sexual activity”, but I hardly think the pleasure I get from stroking my cat’s fur is fulfilling a sexual desire.
Then again, Freud had a notoriously wide definition of libido, such that any kind of positively charged physical energy seemed to count. But I’m not sure such a broad definition would be helpful to anyone hoping to develop a sexual ethic.
A new essay we are reading this year is Are We Having Sex Now, or What? by Greta Christina. This is a great essay for undergrads, although it is quite explicit. Instead of hammering the reader with definitions and arguments, Christina presents the question “what is sex” as “when was I having sex?”, making for much more compelling reading, while still getting the point across that this is not such an easy question to answer.
Much like Bill Clinton, she first counted only traditional heterosexual penile penetration. Then one night she fooled around with a friend, and thinks surely that counted as sex, despite the fact that they had their clothes on.
Then she started having sex with women:
But with women… well, first of all there’s no penis, so right from the start the tracking system is defective. And then, there are so many ways women can have sex with each other, touching and licking and grinding and fingering and fisting — with dildoes or vibrators or vegetables or whatever happens to be lying around the house, or with nothing at all except human bodies. Of course, that’s true with sex between women and men as well. But between women, no one method has a centuries-old tradition of being the one that counts.
She realizes she wants to come up with a coherent account. She tries, “I have friends who say if you thought of it as sex when you were doing it, then it was.” but realizes that is too question begging.
Then she tries,
Perhaps having sex with someone is the conscious, consenting, mutually acknowledged pursuit of shared sexual pleasure. Not a bad definition. If you are turning each other on and you say so and you keep doing it, then it’s sex.
But this doesn’t cover cases when one person is not enjoying it. Then how about this?
How about sex as the conscious, consenting, mutually acknowledged pursuit of sexual pleasure of at least one of the people involved. That’s better.
Of course, that doesn’t cover cases where neither person is enjoying it.
She thinks that the penile penetration definition is the only clear one, but she rejects it for lots of reasons, one being that it includes rape, which she doesn’t want to count as sex (not even “unconsensual sex”).
The longer I think about the subject, the more questions I come up with. At what point in an encounter does it become sexual? If an interaction that begins non-sexually turns into sex, was it sex all along? What about sex with someone who’s asleep? Can you have a situation where one person is having sex and the other isn’t? It seems that no matter what definition I come up with, I can think of some real-life experience that calls it into question.
She gives three more examples:
1. She hosted an all-girl sex party. She didn’t touch all of the women there, but she feels like something sexual happened between all of them
2. The experimented with BDSM. She says her partner did not consider their activities (spanking, for example) “sex” because there was no genital touching.
3. She worked as a dancer in a nude peep show. Once, she masturbated to orgasm with a customer. He was behind glass, and he paid for it. Was it sex?
I find the BDSM example the most interesting. I find it surprising, actually, that her partner would not have considered non-genital BDSM activity sex. I have read a couple of erotic romances which feature BDSM, and it seems to me that this context can make things sexual that would not count as sexual in other circumstances. For example, ordering someone to sit or stand or eat or being ordered to do those things, and taking sexual pleasure in the ordering and being ordered.
That seems to bring us back to “the conscious, consenting, mutually acknowledged pursuit of shared sexual pleasure”. Of course, if one or both aren’t actually pursuing pleasure, or aren’t experiencing pleasure … we’re back to square one. Or maybe we can finesse it and say in those cases, it;s pseudo-sex, or something.
Then again, I think of all those romance novels in which a heroine (say,a heroine who is a virgin, or a heroine who is refusing to acknowledge her feelings for the hero) feels sexual desire, and even sexual pleasure without being conscious of it, or consenting, or acknowledging anything … she would not count as engaging in sexual activity under that definition, which seems wrong, and makes me think the definition is too highly self-conscious and reflective.
Christina concludes, “I still don’t have an answer”, but that’s all right. Philosophy, to me, is much more about asking questions than about finding some final answer. Hopefully, the class meeting will encourage some good questions.
Related posts:
I love this topic and I’m sure you’ll have a lot of interesting discussion about it. I read Dan Savage’s column and listen to his podcast all the time and it amazes me how many different interpretations there are out there about what constitutes sex (i.e. some think mutual masturbation doesn’t “count” as sex and therefore doesn’t count as cheating on their SO) and whether or not rape actually happened or not (i.e. someone who was verbally/emotionally coerced into having intercourse and can’t decide for herself whether she was sexually assaulted or not). There doesn’t seem to be any prevalent cultural definition out there, perhaps because most people aren’t comfortable talking about sex in the first place. When a legal standard for defining pornography is “I know it when I see it”, how do we as a society succinctly put into words or meaning what sex entails? There are teenagers out there “saving themselves” for marriage while engaging in everything but vaginal penetration. There are so many people who are afraid of their own preferences be they sexual orientation or kink-related. Couples don’t feel comfortable speaking with each other about sex. Parents don’t feel comfortable talking about sex with their kids. Kids can’t accept the fact that their parents have sex. I don’t know if we as a culture will ever come up with a definition of something if there are no open lines around the topic in the first place.
@pamelia:
Great point. It is one of those things people think they know, only because they assume — wrongly — that everyone agrees with them.
Yes. In the Cinderella book I just reviewed, there was an expression “anal is the new oral” – teen girls who want to stay virgins feeling they can prove their worthiness in non-vaginally penetrating ways. Ergh.
I have no problem with this, personally, but I know many fellow parents are not, and I have a great fear that my children will say something to a peer that will get misconstrued, or “reported” (there is a strong culture of reporting on your peers to win point sin the teachers’ eyes in our school system, and the list of possible offenses is infinite.).
We read erotic romance so we know in the context of the story that those scenes are meant to be sexual. But… but… in real life is BDSM always about the sexual? I’m not so sure.
Once you work on defining what sex is or isn’t (a very gray area indeed) what’s the next step into the ethics part of the equation?
@AQ: Well, the Catholic and Goldman readings actually do give us two possible sexual ethics: a natural law version, and a second version which basically says, “whatever sex is, apply your favored ethic to it.”
I’m assigning two new articles this week, though, one a Kantian approach, and one an Aristotelian. I will try to blog about them (they aren’t available online).
I tweeted this link but thought your blog readers might enjoy it too:
http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2011/10/09/bdsm-versus-sex-part-1-divide-and-conquer/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=twitter
I think the BDSM discussion is fascinating, because for some it is almost a fetishistic art form (japanese rope, etc) and bears no similarity or relevance to the relationship-heavy situations depicted in HEA BDSM erotica.
Good luck with the class. A good week to be you!
So is an asexual person someone who never engages in physical sex? Or is asexuality about not assigning any sexual meaning to activities other people might consider sexual? I am thinking of sexual ethics as encompassing asexuality but a definition of sex as exclusionary…
@Merrian:
I was going to mention the lack of asexuality as well. I’m currently reading the Catholic definition that Jessica linked to. I was surprised by the fact that homosexuality in a half-positive way (okay, maybe quarter by it still seems like a slap when I read it) was mentioned but there’s no mention of asexuality so far.
It also strikes me that this document was conceived primarily by men who are either asexual or have repressed/redirected their innate sexuality, whatever that sexuality may be on the omni-sexuality continuum. Of course, there’s so far no mention of poly either or sexual fluidity.
On the Catholic morality sexuality level is there an aspect of control and group think belonging? Might there also be a piece that people belonging to this group believe that they are giving up something (as it pertains to homosexuality or poly)? When in fact it’s something that the majority might not be tempted by? (purposeful use of the word tempted)
Actually a similar vein of thought could be applied to those who might be defined as asexual. If one isn’t driven by a sexual drive but another person is, then asking an asexual to be chaste is very different than asking a sexual driven person to be.
It’s also interesting that one can take pieces of the Catholic article on sexuality morality (no homosexual sexual contact) and ignore others (no birth control except for the rhythm method).
@Megan Mulry: Thanks for the link. I read that post and am exploring the others.
When I was doing some research BDSM, blog posts and articles by Mistress Matisse, who also writes for The Stranger like Dan Savage, was a helpful resource. I was struck by some of her thoughts on initial sexual encounter negotiations, especially from the female perspective. (She is after all a pro dom and involved in a long-term poly relationship.) And felt those thoughts had a much wider application than just BDSM negotiation. I’d even go so far to say it was a female positive power position. (Haven’t read her in quite a while so I’ll have to see where she’s at these days.)
I’ve also found some thought provoking posts on human sexuality on Figleaf’s blogin the past.
——-
I had an interesting experience just recently. Two of my friends had a conversation about premarital sex. One very, very religious without the ‘you must be saved’ underepinings and the other an atheist. And as it happens the two are also at opposing sides of the sexuality spectrum from 100% hetrosexual fixated on peens with an attitude toward sex that would stereotypically be defined as a culturally conditioned male attitude to the other’s primarily asexual with hetrosexual underpinings under the right circumstances.
The atheist (although religion didn’t really play that much of a part in the conversation) really hit the conversation out of the park and gave very personal examples of why she believed that such focused attention on restricting premarital sexuality instead of educating/teaching was actually morally reprehensible and potentially destructive.
I didn’t participate in the conversation at all (fly on the wall) except after the fact when both parties talked to me about the conversation after the fact individually. Oh, I don’t believe that the asexual individual sees herself as asexual. Rather she sees herself as religious and following the word/morality of her church.
Although I don’t believe it made the religious person question her beliefs in a deep way, it did give her pause for a number of hours. Unfortunately, after a bit she tried to pawn it off on current society although I did point out that my other friend’s personal experiences were from 30-40 years ago.
The Goldman link is incorrect.
http://wrightjj1.people.cofc.edu/teaching/PHIL3000/Goldman%20Plain%20Sex.pdf
I thought and thought about what the answer was to that question. I grew up in a first base, 2nd base era — not that there wasn’t experimentation of other varieties and (in my case) plenty of books to expand the mental horizons (cut to the bridesmaid scene in The Godfather). My definition is different now — but I’d like to include a conversation from an historical, More than a Mistress by Mary Balogh. Yes, yes, she’s a mistress but not really and he’s a duke (nice to get those essentials out of the way) — Jane is a virgin who has agreed to consummate a relationship with Jocelyn, the duke — they are attracted to each other sexually but have only exchanged kisses. They’re upstairs, in the house that Jane has just redecorated to reduce the red satin quotient, and they talk about what’s going to happen.
pg. 176/7
Jocelyn: “Do you know anything of foreplay?”
She shook her head. “I have never even heard the word.”
“It means what it says. [] We will play, Jane, for as long as we need [] You will enjoy it, believe me.”
She did not doubt it. There was already an ache of something that was not quite pain along her inner thighs and up into her belly. []
“You are doing it already, are you not?” she said. “Playing? With words?”
“We could sit at opposite ends of a room and arouse each other to fever pitch with only words,” he said, grinning suddenly …
Thinking about your question, to me the conversation Jane and Jocelyn are having falls under the umbrella of shared sexual pleasure. Would someone else think that? I don’t know. Fascinating discussion, as always.
@Janet W:
So what about the book itself then? If a conversation can be considered having sex, then is reading a book which has sexual content meant to arouse also having sex? What if the content of the book is only limited to kisses?
I think sex happens when someone has an orgasm, strokes the sex organs, or penetrates sexually. Masturbation is sex. Even without consent or pleasure or orgasm, the physical act of stroking or penetrating (in a sexual context) is still sex. By my definition, I suppose that spanking, talking, and even dreaming counts if someone has a orgasm from just that.
Hmm…but it seems like a stretch to call a wet dream “sex.” I mean, I wouldn’t even call that masturbation. Having sex without contact while asleep?
@ Megan – Thanks for the link Megan. I read both halves of Clarisse‘s great post and following the links ended up on Maymay‘s blog for the evening – so much for the ironing. As a male submissive he has thoughtful and angry things to says about how BDSM is practised.
Juts a quick note to say thank you for these great comments, and links! It’s been a loooooong day, and it isn’t over, and I’m battling a pretty bad cold while trying to prep Oscar Wilde for tomorrow. Well, those are my excuses anyway. Thanks again!
I’ll vote for brain-over-body on this one.
If a sleeping couple in bed arouse each other physiologically but their dreams remain chaste (hypothetically speaking) I wouldn’t call that sex. In that highly unlikely example, neither party is conscious of the physiology. It’s sex if one party is aware and the other isn’t conscious, alive or even human, or isn’t consenting, or is having a distinctly unsexy experience. But when both parties are unaware, it’s not sex. Consider if two people are drugged by an evil sadist who then positions the people into coitus, attaches electrodes to stimulate the necessary tissue…you get the idea. Have the two drugged people had sex? No. Has the evil genius? Depends on his state of mind.
But two people engaging in erotolalia (the example Janet W. cites above) — that’s sex. No touching and maybe not even orgasmic, but I would say it’s sex.
“anal is the new oral”
This made me laugh because there is nothing new. Anal sex as a preserver of virginity = and to avoid pregnancy – is lauded in erotic literature of the Renaissance. I don’t know if they counted anal penetration as sex – or coitus (The word “sex” meaning the act (whatever that is) of sex, as opposed to what is now called gender, is 20th century usage.)
What a fascinating conversation. It brings to mind Brook’s Iron Duke (SPOILER) — Rhys considers Mina a virgin but she doesn’t consider herself one, because she had an encounter with a female friend during a drug induced frenzy. I found that attitude very refreshing, that she “counted” as sex an encounter that wasn’t with a man and was forced. Would she have felt differently if it hadn’t been a close friend, I wonder?
I actually just yesterday added a GoodReads shelf for books which include sex scenes in which one (or both) partners are non compos mentis due to drink, drugs or sleep etc., which I will blushingly admit I absolutely love. And I’ve been pondering whether or not to add the book I’m currently reading, in which someone gets amorous while drugged, because it’s a “clean” romance so doesn’t go very far. So we have here a scene in which neither participant could be described as consenting, and nothing much happens beyond a bit of nuzzling, yet it reads to me like a sex scene… so am I, the reader, the one having sex in this situation? I hope my husband doesn’t think so.