Editor's note appended
What makes sex moral? In recent debates over this question, it always seems that the moral traditionalist position becomes the field of battle; that is, the Anscombe Society or individual students present (as well as can be done within space constraints) a case for a comprehensive sexual ethic centered on conjugal marriage and a particular conception of human dignity, and that position is then attacked.
Opponents of the moral traditionalist view have never seen fit to actually lay out a comprehensive sexual ethic of their own – that is, a clear theoretical framework for their claims, assumptions, and actions; they have been content to merely argue against (or, in less graceful moments, merely ridicule) the traditionalist position. This dynamic has impoverished intellectual discussion of this important and difficult issue.
But perhaps there is a good reason for this hesitancy. The moment we look beyond the superficial “sex-positive” moniker and the simplistic entreaties that “whatever’s right for you is the right choice,” we can see that a truly comprehensive sexual ethic based on these and other assumptions that make up the campus orthodoxy would entail moral conclusions that most people (even progressive college students) would find monstrous.
The campus orthodoxy of which I speak is merely the assumption on which most intellectual claims, dining hall chatter and Saturday night activity are based: that the only moral touchstone in sexual ethics is consent. Beyond consent, we reach the realm of tastes and orientations and proclivities that are deeply personal, and in which one (so the orthodoxy goes) has no right to interfere. This, it seems, is the claim that a serious defender of the dominant culture must defend. But what are the implications of this sexual ethic?
If we sweep sexuality out of the realm of morality and into that of personal taste and/or immutable erotic orientation, then any number of activities and relationships that are proscribed by law and custom become startlingly acceptable.
For instance, this sexual ethic can say nothing against incest and adult-youth sexual activity as such. (I avoid the term “pedophilia,” as it refers only to a preference for prepubescent children.) Many, if not most cases of incest and adult-youth sexual conduct are, of course, coercive. But according to this conception of sexuality, it is not the types of relationship that are wrong, but only the manner in which they are sometimes pursued.
We must ask: what can defenders of the dominant ethic say against incestuous relationships? They could claim that it is the bastardization of a “special” familial relationship. But in so doing they would affirm that consensual sex has the real and unique ability to defile a significant relationship. And what is it is about familial relationships that is so “special?” If this label is (as it seems to be) an a priori hunch, then it is semantic hocus pocus (similar to that of which natural law is accused) that can be applied to any number of other relationships. Furthermore, and more fundamentally, is it not impermissible moralizing to proscribe purely private, consensual conduct? If loving siblings perceive that fellatio will deepen their emotional connection, how can one deny them their sexual expression and experimentation?
They could also claim that incest is peculiarly non-private because of the genetic problems associated with children that result from such relationships. This is clearly unacceptable on at least two counts. First, such relationships have many forms of sexual expression available to them other than the reproductive. Second, the acknowledgement of the reproductive aspect of sex (as well as the potential child that may result) as a moral consideration adds an ethical element that clearly undermines the acceptance of any number of other consensual acts.
But what about sexual activity with minors? The first move, consistent with a consent-only ideology, would be to claim that legal minors cannot consent to sexual activity. But “sex-positive” advocates clearly don’t believe this is true. They advocate for comprehensive sex education for middle school students on the assumption that they will be soon having sex and that there is nothing inherently wrong with this development, and they advocate for (safe) sexual experimentation among teenagers. And if young people can consent to sex with each other, surely they can consent to sex with an adult.
One might argue, however, that the inherent power dynamic in such a relationship makes truly free consent impossible. But there are power dynamics in many sexual relationships that are deemed perfectly acceptable, whether they are purely sexual dynamics such as bondage, domination and sadomasochism or social dynamics such as employee-employer relationships and age disparities later in life. Indeed, Molly Borowitz ’09 has asserted on the blog Equal Wrights that the desire to be dominant or submissive in sexual play is an intrinsic part of one’s sexuality. Consider a young teenager who wants to experiment with or has perceived a preference for submissiveness. Would it not be acceptable to (consensually) experiment with that “orientation” with a domineering adult? Indeed, wouldn’t the most effective form of all youthful sexual experimentation be with an experienced and nurturing adult?
I write this today not as some sort of shocking “slippery slope” social prediction, but as a challenge. No one on this campus has dared to publish a comprehensive sexual ethic to compete with that offered by moral traditionalists. I am arguing today that the orthodox sexual ethic on campus today, whether as an assumption on which conduct is based or as an explicitly defended set of sexual norms, if extrapolated to a comprehensive sexual ethic, has little or nothing to say against incest and youth-adult sexual activity as such. It is the responsibility of those who attack the moral traditionalist position to present an actual alternative that avoids these and other pitfalls.
Brandon McGinley is a senior politics major from Pittsburgh, Pa. He can be reached at bmcginle@princeton.edu.
Editor's note
Due to an editing error, an earlier draft of this column was initially published in print and online. The column appearing here has been edited to reflect the author's most recent draft.