As promised ages ago, here’s a paper on the topic of conflicting perspectives on sex work that I wrote for Teela Sanders’ course on Globalization and the Sex Trade at Leeds. Looking back, it’s probably a bit trite and glosses over some of the subtleties of the topic, so that might have contributed to my rejection from a variety of schools (this was my writing sample).

Oh, one further note: I wish I could make WordPress do my bidding but I seem unable to get the line spacing right. Hope it doesn’t burn the eyes too much. If you can mentally divide all the spaces in half, it should look good. I tried to go through the HTML-laden effort to get the bibliography to render correctly, but it’s way too much work.

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Selling Sex or Selling the Self? Radical Feminist Theories on Sex Work

Modern debate surrounding sex work is informed by a wide array of theoretical perspectives. Of these, a particular strand of feminism has often been the loudest voice on the issue, using heated language and vivid comparisons to describe an institution they view as violence against all women. Sex work is seen as oppressing not just sex workers, but all women, due to the very nature of its existence, which is said to legitimate patriarchal beliefs (Shrage 1989). Groups and individuals holding such views “typically understand male power as domination, and assume when men pay for sex they buy mastery of an objectified female body” (Davidson 2003: 55). Such a perspective leaves little room for agency on the part of those involved in the trade itself. For example, the Coalition Against Trafficking in Women (CATW) brushes aside the question of self-determination, saying “choice and consent as an analytical tool is worthless to understand prostitution as an institution” (CATW Asia Pacific). They adopt a similar position to many who oppose all sex work, confounding the issue by refusing to make a distinction between trafficking and consensual sex work. Thus, the question of rights is reconstituted and reformulated so that it is no longer problematic: where others claim the right to work, this radical feminist perspective maintains the right to not have to work in prostitution.

The rise of this perspective as a pressure to legislatures and organizations involved with sex workers has had important consequences. Obviously, the abolitionist view is in direct opposition to those who would see sex work regulated or decriminalized. Sometimes this opposition extends to the unionization of sex workers, epitomized by a quote from Farley: “unionizing prostituted women makes as little sense as unionizing battered women” (2004: 1089). These views have found their way into UK policy, as seen in the government’s Coordinated Prostitution Strategy (CPS). The document assumes harm on the part of those doing sex work as a sine qua non of their occupation, as well as promoting familiar responsibilization and acceptability discourses as seen in the Home Office’s material on anti-social behaviour (Scoular and O’Neill 2007). Echoing radical feminist theory, the CPS states that “street prostitution is not an activity that we can tolerate…nor can we tolerate any form of commercial sexual exploitation” (Home Office 2006). Clearly, this particular brand of feminism is not the domain of a few radical theorists – it is a powerful and influential lobby that continues to affect sex work policy.

Obviously, it would be naïve to say that the casual use of terms such as “radical” or “liberal” feminism is unproblematic. Even within the subset of writers commonly seen as radical, there have been disagreements and different viewpoints (see Shrage 1994, and Overall 1994). However, while they definitely do not constitute distinct, homogeneous groups, such terms can be useful as general labels. In this paper, I will use the term “radical” to refer to those feminists who generally see sex work as a negative institution which is harmful to all women. The term “liberal” will refer to those who see sex work as not harmful, or even as liberating or empowering. To examine these views, I will utilize Kesler’s (2002) characteristics of radical feminist thought on sex work, whilst discussing the criticisms that have come from liberal voices. Having concluded the discussion of the “sex work as violence” perspective along with opposing views, I will propose some consequences that such views might have on policy and on the existence of sex work more generally.

Perhaps one of the most common radical feminist arguments against prostitution is on an economic basis. It is sometimes said that women earn more than men in sex work, but less in most other professions – why are some women forced to sell sexual services for lack of a better paying alternative? (Kesler 2002) This question is often directed against those who claim that sex work allows women who might otherwise be in poverty to support themselves and their dependents. However, liberal critics point out that the question seems somewhat misdirected – it is more a criticism more of the economic system in which sex work operates than of the work itself. That is, this economic disparity apparent in sex work could have many explanations, but: “whatever the answer it applies also, and certainly more commonly, to secretaries, childcare workers, factory workers, etc.” (Kesler 2002: 221). Kesler goes on to say that this indicates a need for women, not just sex workers, to organize themselves as a labour force to rectify the situation.

Some radical writers, like Overall (1992), have agreed that unionization or similar action on the part of sex workers to take control of working conditions would solve many economic problems associated with sex work. However, others have spoken disparagingly on the idea of sex worker unions. The earlier quote from Farley illustrates this, as does a Guardian comment article which claims that “women in the sex industry need human rights, not workers’ rights” (Bindel 2003). This ideal sounds noble, but is suspect: the article seems to discount sex workers’ rights out of hand, comparing them to workers in other occupations who “…tend not to be jacking up in the toilets during coffee breaks or drinking at their desks” (Bindel 2003). The Guardian article highlights one of the main issues with economic criticisms of sex work: they fail to provide any real alternatives. It is one thing to say that the context in which sex work operates is economically sexist, but quite another to say that sex work is a problem because of this. Such arguments do little to help those who rely on sex work in the absence of alternatives, and are not even applicable to those who have freely chosen it as an occupation like any other.

This last point brings up the issue of free choice in sex work – often disparaged as a “false” notion of freedom by radical feminists. The issue is muddled by popular discussion of “trafficking”, especially by groups like the CATW, who despite their focused-sounding name, oppose “all forms of sexual exploitation, including prostitution, pornography, sex tourism, and mail order bride selling” (CATW). The lumping in of voluntary and non-voluntary activities is problematic from the liberal perspective, as it blurs an important distinction, simultaneously depriving voluntary workers of their agency and obscuring the plight of those who are actually forced into sex work (Agustín 2006). Nonetheless, this blurring is common among radical feminist literature, as is the connection with rape and abuse, which are sometimes made out to be one and the same as sex work. Farley says “the adage silence is consent is mistakenly applied to women in prostitution…their silence, like the silence of battered women, should not be misinterpreted, ever, as their consent to prostitution” (2004: 1117). The point that those in sex work are often denied a voice is a valid one, but Farley seems to dismiss the voices of those who claim to enjoy their work, characterizing their apparent consent to prostitution as “dissociation”, drawing a connection between it and repression of childhood abuse (2004: 1107-1109).

Farley’s insistence on assuming that abuse and sex work go hand in hand fits in with the dominant assumption among similar thinkers that no woman could ever choose sex work. It is this disbelief that leads to the arguments against notions of free choice. Kesler provides a liberal rebuttal to this view:

“…it is a dangerous game to second-guess women who tell us that they have chosen their work and enjoy it. Just because someone cannot imagine why a woman would choose prostitution, does not mean that this is not in fact exactly what has happened. To tell women that their choice in this situation is always an illusion is to force victimization on women, many of whom are no more victims than non-prostitute women under our current patriarchal capitalist system” (2002: 223).

Radical feminist arguments about free choice are especially problematic when it comes to the contentious issue of trafficking. Agustín argues that current discourse serves to “totalise a vast array of diverse experiences…this position advocates for a discursive change among feminists that would make ‘prostitution’ by definition a form of violence against women” (2006: 129). She goes as far to say that much research on trafficking so far has been irresponsible, beginning with preconceived notions about sex work and forced migration, making a clear picture of what is really going on impossible. As such, this argument against sex work succumbs to the very mistake it seeks to avoid – ignoring the voices of sex workers and assigning them an identity based on prior assumptions.

To some, it may seem odd to compare voluntary sex work and forced trafficking. However, for radical feminists, the idea that something is inherently wrong with selling sex links these two disparate phenomena together. Those who hold this view maintain that sex work is not just wrong under the current market system, but in all possible circumstances – that sex is intricately bound up in conceptions of self, and thus should not be sold. This moral argument makes sex work in any form reprehensible to some. For example, Farley states on Nevada brothels: “…legal prostitution is an institution that can’t just be fixed up or made a little better. It has to be abolished” (quoted in Bindel 2007).

Continuing with this idea, some feel that selling sex is different or worse than the selling of other commodities or services in a market. Satz (1995) calls this the “asymmetry thesis”, and adds that some people “think that there is something wrong with commercial surrogacy and prostitution that is not wrong with teaching and professional sports.” The main difference perceived is that selling sex entails “selling oneself”, whereas other professions do not. There are two problems that liberal feminists have pointed out with the idea that the sex worker “sells herself”. First, it reduces the sex worker’s humanity and femaleness to sexuality alone – that is, when a woman sells a sexual service, she is selling her humanity. Kesler points out that male sex workers and promiscuous men are not seen to be selling themselves, and adds that this constitutes an “inability to see that a woman’s sexuality…is but a piece of her whole identity” (2002: 226).

The second problem with the assumption of asymmetry is that sex work does indeed share similarities with other professions. For example, Hochschild’s well-known study of airline flight attendants indicated the depth of emotional labour that female workers were expected to perform, and the tolls such labour brought (1983). She notes that women in certain occupations are expected to be warmer, gentler, and generally “nicer” than men (1983:168). It is clear that women occupy a different, lower social position than men in the current patriarchal capitalist system – one where they are expected to act in a deferential manner, and sex work in its current form is only one manifestation of this arrangement. Arguments based on the “unegalitarian” distribution of sex work between men and women as buyers and sellers also fail to take this into account. When critics point the finger at sex work, they are attacking the result of inequality, not its cause.

A common theme unites the various ideas about sex work within radical feminist discourse, and indeed within much of public debate up to this point. Such perspectives tend to see “prostitiution” as one monolithic thing, unchanging across history or locales. What is particularly problematic is that sex work is all too often represented as solely street work, which leads to an overstatement of violence, drug use, and other problems (Kesler 2002). The UK government seems to fall into this trap as well, with the consultation document Paying the Price (2004) first emphasizing street sex work, then going on to express a desire to “do something about prostitution” more generally. This is changing, with the CPS acknowledging the lack of attention paid to off-street sex work. However, the report was carefully worded to avoid it being read as an endorsement of what is generally seen to be a safer alternative to street work, saying: “Some of the worst examples of exploitation – child abuse and trafficking for sexual exploitation – take place behind closed doors” (CPS 2006). There is a continued focus on street work, despite the fact that most commercial sex in Britain is exchanged indoors (Sanders 2006). In particular the focus is on the worst examples, using the most extreme cases – which fail to provide a complete or realistic picture of sex work.

This myopic view of sex work has important implications for policy promotion. The most common policy to flow from radical feminist views is prohibition – the idea that sex work should not be encouraged or legalized, but instead eradicated. When sex work is seen as never freely chosen and ultimately, a harmful practice to all women that cannot be reformed, this solution makes sense. The Swedish model epitomizes the eradication policies promoted by many radical feminists, criminalizing the buying of sex but not the selling (Leander 2005). Such policies construe sex work to be a very specific transaction – with women as victims and any man who buys sex as an abuser. This process fits well with radical feminist discourse and on the surface seems to be a logical way to eradicate sex work, but brings problems for sex workers, men who buy sex, and the integrity of the radical feminist campaign itself.

It would seem that criminalizing men who buy sex – but not the women selling it – might be beneficial to those in sex work. This perspective presents an alternative to the traditional course of fining sex workers, a practice which has been attacked for merely encouraging them to return to work in order to pay their fines (Hubbard 2006). However, focusing on men might have even more negative effects on sex workers, particularly those on the street. Cracking down on “kerb crawlers” can scare off regular clients, thus forcing sex workers to make quick decisions regarding clients that they might otherwise not consider. There are ideological concerns with seeing all sex workers as victims, as well. Perhaps the most pernicious example of this is the contradictory views held towards sex workers – as victims in one way and responsible actors in another. That is, sex workers are held to be victims who do not have the ability to choose their occupation. However, they are also held to be exemplary of and even responsible for patriarchial domination, with Overall going so far as to say:

“Thus if, as some sex workers claim, some prostitutes genuinely choose the work they do, then they carry a responsibility for that work: at the very least, to recognize and evaluate its meaning, its implications, and its effects on other women and on themselves” (1992:723).

Statements like these illustrate the difficulty radical feminists encounter when trying to disentangle the ideas of opposing sex work and opposing sex workers. The popular “love the sinner, hate the sin” attitude seems insincere to many sex workers and others, who have questioned how one can support sex workers while simultaneously campaigning for the eradication of sex work (Kesler 2002). Similarly, eradication policies have interfered with harm reduction strategies designed to assist sex workers, shifting away from this emphasis to focus on “exiting” strategies (Cusick and Berney 2005). Thus, radical feminists have been accused of only really supporting those sex workers who want to leave sex work. Any woman who does not desire this goal has either been deluded by the patriarchy, or is complicit with it.

The focus on men also creates problems for those who buy sex. Many are not violent or even socially problematic, beyond the moral offense they may cause in some of the population. The picture of the “kerb crawler” as a violent, depraved man who abuses those he purchases sex from is simply not the reality of the situation. Kinnell (2006a) notes that less than two deaths a year on average can definitely be attributed to clients. She compares this to the large numbers of men who buy sex each year – at least 11% of the adult male population in the UK (Kinnell 2006b) – and concludes that it safe to say that only a very small proportion of men who buy sex are potential murderers. However, current discourse focuses on curbing demand, portraying any purchase of sex as a violent act against women. This signals a move away from older notions of a “private exchange.” Buying sex has perhaps even become a moral panic, with the rights (privacy, security, and so forth) of those accused rarely considered. Just as the radical view construes all women selling sex as victims, it makes all men who buy sex into monsters.

Radical feminist forays into policy have had ideological consequences for the movement itself, as well. Davidson (2003) argues that radical feminists have made strange bedfellows in their quest for abolition, finding themselves on the same side of an issue as more conservative parties who would generally be seen as traditionalist if not anti-feminist. Such alliances carry risks for feminist ideology, and the ethical questions surrounding working with such groups are difficult to answer. In particular, it is difficult to reconcile the championing of policies usually seen as rightist and authoritarian (increased police powers, border controls, etc.) with the ideal of eradicating sex work as violence against all women. In this way, such ideas find contradictory expressions through laws and policies that undermine the legitimacy of the movement as a whole.

This contradictory nature is echoed throughout much of radical feminist theory on sex work. Those involved in campaigns against sex work claim to be promoting women’s rights and fighting against an institution which is violence against all women by its very existence. However, such statements are very prescriptive and ring of moral authoritarianism. Liberal views contrast with these comments, promoting the sex worker’s right to agency and dignity and arguing against the idea that sex work harms women, or that it is necessarily degrading. Radical feminist arguments against sex work ironically objectify and reduce the women involved in it to little more than commodities acted upon and controlled by men. Such arguments have some truth in them, but rely on examining the most visible and destructive forms of sex work. The radical call to arms to stop violence against women should not be ignored, and neither should the legitimate cases of abuse present in sex work. However, liberal critics bring up a damaging point: in constructing their arguments for sex work as violence against all women, radical feminists have sometimes ignored the voices of the very women that they claim to speak for – and this constitutes a powerful violence against women in its own right.

Sources

Agustín, Laura María. 2006. “The conundrum of women’s agency: migrations and the sex industry.” Pp. 116-136 in
Sex Work Now, edited by Rosie Campbell and Maggie O’Neill. Devon, UK: Willan Publishing.

Bindel, Julie. 2003. “Sex workers are different.” The Guardian, July 7. Retrieved November 13, 2007 (http://www.guardian.co.uk/comment/story/0,3604,992829,00.html)

——. 2007. “It’s like you sign a contract to be raped.” The Guardian, September 7. Retrieved November 14, 2007. (http://www.guardian.co.uk/print/0,,330695327-103680,00.html)

Coalition Against Trafficking in Women – Asia Pacific. N.d. “Sex: From intimacy to “sexual labor” or Is it a human right to prostitute?” Quezon City, Philippines: Coalition Against Trafficking in Women, Retreived November 12, 2007. (http://action.web.ca/home/catw/readingroom.shtml?x=16287)

Coalition Against Trafficking in Women International. N.d. “An introduction to CATW.” Retrieved November 15, 2007. (http://www.catwinternational.org/about/index.php)

Cusick, Linda and Lee Berney. 2005. “Prioritizing punitive response over public health: commentary on the Home Office consultation document Paying the Price.” Critical Social Policy 25(4): 596-606.

Davidson, Julie O’Connell. 2003. “’Sleeping with the enemy?’ Some Problems with Feminist Abolitionist Calls to Penalise those who Buy Commercial Sex.” Social Policy and Society 2(1): 55-63.

Farley, Melissa. 2004. “’Bad for the Body, Bad for the Heart’: Prostitution Harms Women Even if Legalized or Decriminalized.” Violence Against Women 10(10): 1087-1125.

Hochschild, Arlie Russell. 1983. The Managed Heart: Commercialization of Human Feeling. Los Angeles: University of California Press.

Home Office. 2004. Paying the Price: a consultation paper on prostitution. London: Home Office Communication Directorate, Retrieved November 15, 2007. (http://www.homeoffice.gov.uk/documents/paying_the_price.pdf?view=Binary)

——. 2006. A Coordinated Prostitution Strategy and a summary of responses to “Paying the Price”. London: Home Office Communication Directorate, Retrieved November 15, 2007. (http://www.homeoffice.gov.uk/documents/cons-paying-the price/ProstitutionStrategy.pdf?view=Binary)

Hubbard, Phil. 2006. “Out of touch and out of time? The contemporary policing of sex work.” Pp. 1-32 in Sex Work Now, edited by Rosie Campbell and Maggie O’Neill. Devon, UK: Willan Publishing.

Kesler, Kari. 2002. “Is a Feminist Stance in Support of Prostitution Possible? An Exploration of Current Trends.” Sexualities 5(2): 219-235.

Kinnell, Hillary. 2006a. “Murder made easy: the final solution to prostitution?” Pp. 141-168 in Sex Work Now, edited by Rosie Campbell and Maggie O’Neill. Devon, UK: Willan Publishing.

——. 2006b. “Clients of female sex workers: men or monsters?” Pp. 212-234 in Sex Work Now, edited by Rosie Campbell and Maggie O’Neill. Devon, UK: Willan Publishing.

Leander, Karen. 2005. “Reflections on Sweden’s Measures against Men’s Violence against Women.” Social Policy and Society 5(1): 115-125.

Overall, Christine. 1992. “What’s Wrong with Prostitution? Evaluating Sex Work”. Signs 17(4): 705-724

——. 1994. “Reply to Shrage.” Signs 19(2): 571-575.

Sanders, Teela. 2006. “Behind the personal ads: the indoor sex markets in Britain.” Pp. 92-115 in Sex Work Now, edited by Rosie Campbell and Maggie O’Neill. Devon, UK: Willan Publishing.

Satz, Debra. 1995. “Markets in Women’s Sexual Labor.” Ethics 106: 63-85.

Scoular, Jane and Maggie O’Neill. 2007. “Regulating Prostitution: Social Inclusion, Responsibilization and the Politics of Prostitution Reform.” British Journal of Criminology 47(3): 764-778.

Shrage, Laurie. 1989. “Should Feminists Oppose Prostitution?” Ethics 99(2): 347-361.

——. 1994. “Comment on Overall’s ‘What’s Wrong with Prostitution?’ Evaluating Sex Work.” Signs 19(2): 564-570.

1. Yes, that’s Robert Merton firing lasers out of his spectacles.

2. Yes, this image is designed to appeal to that narrow segment of the population who is both familiar with the conventions of electronic role-playing games and mid-20th century sociological theory.

3. No, I don’t really buy into Merton’s theory of deviance.

4. Yes, I once wanted to be an artist. Looks like I made the right choice!

It may be that the best response to an unpredictable environment is to vary one’s actions and put out as much variety as possible until something “clicks”. That said, I feel somewhat foolish about having spent so much money on applications to grad schools recently. Speed of rejection seems to correlate fairly well with “quality” of school, with Harvard, UCLA, Stanford, Wisconsin and Berkeley all firing off “thanks, but no thanks” letters pretty quickly.

Right now, I’m in some kind of strange limbo — having gained acceptance to an MA program at the school I’m at now, and still waiting to hear on a few other places I’d rather go (if only they’d pay me — thanks a lot, Washington). No doubt I’ve been placed on waiting lists, meaning that I’m waiting to see if the first-choice people decline their offers, at which point the schools have to look for someone else.

Needless to say all this makes putting forth a good effort in one’s last month of one’s last year of one’s degree somewhat difficult. The hardest thing is that This Does Not Fit The Pattern. History has not taught me to fail well.

Perhaps if I’d created a hierarchical linear model predicting of my chances of getting in, I’d be less disappointed.

Justin Wolfers posts over at Freakonomics about a new study which calls out macroeconomists on their adherence to models which may not be very predictive at all. As a professor of mine noted, sociologists are dealing with the exact same issue, but since economists are held in much higher esteem, they have a lot further to fall.

My feeling is that the financial crisis has inspired a lot of popular rage against macroeconomists, but whether this will contribute to any substantial rethinking of the discipline or simply be dismissed as the raving of an uninformed public remains to be seen. Wolfers seems cautiously optimistic, holding that salvation rests in the refinement of current techniques.

Of course, I’m not an economist, but I’m not convinced that equilibrium models and assumptions of rationality are working so well these days. Perhaps these assumptions will be revised in the wake of this crisis, perhaps not. Sociology does not have a similar “opportunity” to fail, so it will likely be harder to shake out of its sleepwalking.

From Wikipedia, on World War I:

Before World War II, the war was also known as The Great War, The World War, The War to End All Wars, The Kaiser’s War, The War of the Nations and The War in Europe. In France and Belgium it was sometimes referred to as La Guerre du Droit (the War for Justice) or La Guerre Pour la Civilisation / de Oorlog tot de Beschaving (the War to Preserve Civilization), especially on medals and commemorative monuments.

It’s not my idea, but who’s up for naming “the crisis” Depression II, and thus renaming The Great Depression to Depression I? At the very least, it will make for interesting discussion on the importance of language with regards to perception of major economic and political events, like that brought on by the technical difference between “depression” and “recession”.

Funny I should post about race just before heading off to Cuba for the reading week holiday, since the trip gave me a look into the same issues from another angle. Staying at a resort alongside mostly elderly vacationers (whom I was very tempted to “type” in a particular way) drew some interesting comments. For example, the following exchange occurred when we struck up a conversation on our way to dinner.

CANADIAN SENIORS: “So, are you students?”

US: “Yep.”

CS: “Oh, where are you from? It must be Japan…wait, some of you are Chinese. Well?”

US: “Most of us are Chinese actually, one is Filipino.”

CS: “Oh, and he’s white!”

ME: “I’m Korean.”

CS: “Haha, he says he’s Korean!”

Discussing it after, we jokingly remarked that I didn’t “get a country” by dint of being white with no discernible accent. Similar exchanges occurred during the trip, mostly between the resort staff and our group. One of my friends was referred to as “Jackie Chan” repeatedly, and another staff member jumped into martial arts positions whenever we passed. She also told us that she knew everyone was Chinese except for myself and my Filipino friend. She knew this, she claimed, because of his eyes, which were different, as she demonstrated with the “slanty eye” gesture.

During much of the trip, I tried to claim I was Chinese by adoption, although this was mostly in an attempt to feign lack of understanding of languages other than Mandarin when we were being harangued by “tour guides” wanting tips. Just like my claiming to be Korean, nobody bought it.

I think the reaction from the tourists is particularly interesting because they were Canadians and knew we were as well (most if not all of those at the resort were from Canada). I wonder whether they would have asked similar questions if we had, for whatever reason, had the same conversation in Canada. As well, their insistence on knowing that people were Japanese got me thinking about this trend, which I’ve seen before. For whatever reason, in my experience it seems to have become unfashionable to ask people if they are Chinese. One of my friends mentioned that he thinks it’s because it’s no longer acceptable to “assume” anyone is Chinese, and that other well known countries (Korea, Japan) are more acceptable. Has anyone else noticed this? Why do you think this is?

As a person with a Southern Ontario accent and white skin, when my answer to “Where are you from?” is Toronto (or Hamilton, perhaps, if the interlocutor is from Western Canada) nobody will respond, “no, I mean originally.”

Problem: what’s a cause?

Despite probably sounding like I am veering into banal high school philosophy here, it’s an honest question. The search for causal factors in social science is rarely questioned. Working assumptions in much research are that we will hypothesize a relationship (informed by some kind of theory) then use statistical techniques to evaluate a sample and determine whether we can prove our initial hypotheses for the entire population under consideration.

Sorry, not prove — that’s fairly well explained in methods courses, that we can’t “prove” anything. We can be 95%, 99% sure, 99.99% sure, and so forth. (By the way, 95% is the usual standard for us. Higher standards aren’t necessary since lives rarely hang in the balance in this line of work.) Despite the repeated statements about the standard scientific idea that we can only disprove hypotheses, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of doubt about causes.

The tricky thing about causes is that they generally have causes themselves. I don’t mean to get into any kind of metaphysical “first cause” argument here, because that’s not the issue. The problem is that the social world is very complicated, and causes impact upon other causes in a terribly convoluted string of events which can be traced back potentially forever.

I don’t think this comes across very well in sociology courses, or else it is not something that many people are interested in talking about. And so, we seem to push the problem of regress out of our heads, forgetting our own mantras of unprovability. Is the problem solved by practicalities such as running out of resources to trace lines back? Perhaps, but this doesn’t seem to be a very satisfying answer.

Are empiricism and positivism “isms” in the sense that “feminism”, “Marxism”, and so forth are? I would wager that many social scientists do not think so. Indeed, science itself is usually held to be not just different, but superior — in a league of its own — compared to other theories or ways of thinking.

In the opening lecture of a sociology class today, the professor made it known that he was “not politically correct”, a self-label that usually throws up warning signs for me. He proceeded to describe his distrust of “isms”, while admonishing us to be empirical and to “let the data speak for itself.” I was struck by the way that he seemed to believe that feminists and Marxists were “warping” the data, or discarding it when it did not fit with their world view. This may be true in some cases, but positivistic science is a theory base like any other, and personal subjective views still come into it.

To sum: I don’t believe that data will usually “speak for itself.” Neither do I believe in so-called “torturing the data” in order to make it confess what we want to hear. The problem is that sociology can fall into the trap of assuming that the truth is out there, somewhere — if only we can find it. This seems to me a dangerous position, especially given our dismal success at incremental, additive theory.

The rest of the introduction was mostly weak intimidation about how difficult the course would be and how graduate school would be hard, and so forth. Well, in that, he might have been right. If graduate school is made up of aggressively single-minded sociology professors unwilling to consider their own biases, then yes, perhaps I will indeed not do very well there.