Matthew Weait, Professor of Law and Policy at Birkbeck College, University of London guest blogs on Wednesday's arrest of 17 HIV-positive women who allegedly worked illegally as sex workers. Greek authorities are accusing them of intentionally causing serious
bodily harm.
The arrest in Athens of 17 female sex workers living with HIV this week is
outrageous on many levels. It is not that a significant number of them
have had their right to respect for private life violated (12 had their
photographs published on a police website), nor that there is
uncertainty as to whether the women concerned knew their HIV status, nor
that the women were arrested after a screening process by the Greek
Centre for Disease Control (how voluntary was that, I wonder?), nor that
they have been charged with intentionally causing grievous bodily harm
(a charge almost impossible to prove, and on the facts arising simply
from having unprotected sex with clients – according to news reports it
is unclear whether any clients have actually been infected as a result
of sex with the women concerned). All these things are bad enough, but
what is really appalling is the way in which it is the women who have
been identified as the legitimate locus of control and the subject of
punitive state response.
It is appalling, but it is entirely to be expected. There is a long
and ignoble tradition of locating the source of STIs in women in
general, and female sex workers in particular. In the context of HIV
criminalization this tradition has reached a new peak (or, perhaps
better, a new trough). Put simply, HIV criminalization has compounded,
and added a new and frightening dimension to, the longstanding idea that
female sex workers are a source of pollution threatening the
cleanliness of men. It is not just that by identifying them as
the risk and the cause of any harm men may suffer, the men concerned
(and men in general) are able to divert attention from their own
responsibility (though this is important), it is that criminalization
has provided an opportunity, in this context, to reinforce the idea that
women are inherently dirty, that HIV is dirty, and that cleansing (what
a frightening word that is) through punishment, containment and
deportation (the women in Athens were foreign nationals) is a reasonable
and justifiable response.
Of this logic we should be very afraid. The elimination of dirt at a
political level has found expression, at its most extreme, in the
slaughter of the Jews by the Nazis, in the apartheid regime of South
Africa, in eugenic science and rules relating to miscegenation. It is
evident in any attempt by a society to maintain its ‘purity’ by imposing
border controls that require would-be immigrants to undergo tests that
filter out the sick and unhealthy.
At an individual level, the elimination or exclusion of dirt – or
rather the practices, attitudes and response mechanisms that attempt to
achieve this (prosecution, imprisonment, deportation) mirror a wider
political project in which the HIV positive body is punished,
marginalised and devalued because it represents everything that is
feared in post-modernity. The HIV positive body is a paradigm site
for repressive legal and political response because of its capacity to
reproduce itself in the body of those for whom it represents a threat to
physical and ontological security, and because that reproduction occurs
– and can only occur – through the merging of bodies via the
co-mingling of their ‘inside’. Elizabeth Grosz, an Australian feminist
theorist has put this better than anyone else when she explains that:
Body fluids attest to the permeability of the body, its necessary
dependence on an outside, its liability to collapse into this outside
(this is what death implies), to the perilous divisions between the
body’s inside and its outside. They affront a subject’s aspiration
toward autonomy and self-identity. They attest to a certain irreducible
‘dirt’ or ‘disgust’, a horror of the unknown or the unspecifiable that
permeates, lingers, and at times leaks out of the body, a testimony to
the fraudulence or impossibility of the ‘clean’ and ‘proper’. (Grosz,
1994: 193-4)
For Grosz, it is women’s bodies, their unstable and destabilizing
corporeality, that serve both to affirm men’s belief in their own
inviolability and, thus, the bounded body (i.e. male bodies) as the
normal, universal and legitimate form of subjectivity. The seminal
flows that emit from male bodies, reduced to a by-product of sexual
pleasure rather than conceived as a manifestation of immanent
materiality, and as something that is directed, linear and
non-reciprocal, enables men to sustain the fantasy of the closed body
and of the possibility of control over it. The socio-cultural and
psychological dimension of Mackinnon’s (in)famous assertion about the
power necessarily instantiated in heterosexual relations (‘Man fucks
woman: subject verb object’ (Mackinnon, 1982: 541), this fantasy is a
prerequisite for the maintenance of masculinity, and of the mastery –
over women, over nature – that masculinity enables, or which is its
prerogative.
To receive flow, or to be in position where there is a risk of flow
in the other direction, is to be identified with the feminine (whether
as woman, or as passive homosexual) and to lose the phallic advantage;
to acknowledge the essential materiality of the body, that its flows are
not merely by-products of the body but constitutive of it, is an
admission that strikes at the heart of masculinity, at the security
which is its privilege, and at the legitimacy of the hierarchised and
gendered socio-economic order upon which its privileged status depends.
Understood in these terms, it is unsurprising that it is women’s bodies
(despite the relatively low risk of female to male sexual transmission)
that are – within the discourse that frames the heterosexual HIV
epidemic– characterised as the source of infection. As Grosz explains,
this discourse is one that makes
… women, in line with the conventions and practices associated with
contraceptive procedures, the guardians of the sexual fluids of both
men and women. Men seem to refuse to believe that their body
fluids are the ‘contaminants’. It must be women who are the
contaminants. Yet, paradoxically, the distinction between a ‘clean’
woman and an ‘unclean’ one does not come from any presumption about the
inherent polluting properties of the self-enclosure of female sexuality,
as one might presume, but is a function of the quantity, and to a
lesser extent the quality, of the men she has already been with. So she
is in fact regarded as a kind of sponge or conduit of other men’s ‘dirt’. (Grosz, 1994: 197)
Given Grosz’s analysis it is hardly unsurprising that the Centre for
Disease Control in Greece had 1500 calls from concerned men once the
story about the brothels broke. Far from accepting any responsibility
they might have for having sex which carried the risk of STI and HIV
infection, it was entirely to be expected that their concern was whether
the women might have infected them, and that the legal response was to round up the women. Patriarchy is, after all, a Greek word.
The response of the Greek health Minister, Andreas Leverdos, prompted
in part by a massive rise in HIV infections in Greece in recent months
(954 new infections were reported in 2011, a 57 percent increase from
the previous year), and also – surely – by the political value in
deporting non-nationals at a time when Greece is in economic meltdown,
was to suggest criminalizing unprotected sex in brothels. He is
reported as saying,
Let’s make this a crime. It’s not all the fault of
the illegally procured woman, it’s 50 percent her fault and 50 percent
that of the client, perhaps more because he is paying the money.
On
the face of it this response suggests some recognition of shared
responsibility. However, it is a pipe-dream – I suggest – to imagine
that doing this (even if it were politically viable, which I doubt)
would have the effect of eradicating the deeply entrenched view that
female sex workers are to blame for their clients ills; nor is
criminalization of sexual behaviour that carries the risk of HIV
infection a productive or constructive answer to anything. It would
simply perpetuate the idea that punitive laws are an appropriate
response to what is properly understood as a public health issue that
should be addressed through wider awareness, education and an
affirmation of the importance of taking care of, and respecting,
ourselves and others.
(Reposted from Matthew Weait's own blog, 'The Times That Belong To Us' with kind permission. You can also follow Matthew on Twitter @ProfWetpaint)