Philosophy of Love,

Sex, and Marriage

An Introduction
Second Edition

Raja Halwani
8 Sexual Objectification

Outline of the Chapter

In this chapter, I start by giving a definition of “objectification,” and then
I explain why the concept is morally important. I next explain and defend
Immanuel Kant’s views on sexual desire and how it is by nature sexually
objectifying. I discuss various attempts to get around the Kantian problem with
sex and argue that they fail, partly because they misunderstand Kant. Finally,
I turn to a discussion of pornography and the feminist objection that it objecti-
fies and degrades women. I argue that although pornography does objectify, it
does not do so just to women, and that feminist objections to the contrary do
not succeed.

What Is Sexual Objectification?

At its core, objectification is treating or considering a person as only an object.
Sexual objectification is treating or considering a person only as a sex object.
Consider the following cases that allegedly involve objectification: (1) casual
sexual activity (one-night stands, anonymous sex in sex clubs [including bath-
houses and other sexual venues], sex with prostitutes, lap dances, and rape);
(2) watching pornography; (3) depictions of people in the nude or having sex
in pornographic material; (4) checking out someone or his or her “booty” as he
or she walks by; (5) catcalling a woman (or a man) as she walks by; (6) sexu-
ally fantasizing about a particular person. All these types of cases allegedly
involve objectification.
But whether the above cases count as objectification depends on how we
define the concept. Consider the following definitions or characterizations of
“objectification”: “to objectify a person is to treat him or her only as an object”
(Halwani 2008, 342); “a person is sexually objectified when her sexual parts or
sexual functions are separated out from the rest of her personality and reduced
to the status of mere instruments or else regarded as if they were capable of
representing her” (Bartky 1990, 26).
Halwani’s definition includes only treatment or behavior towards someone.
If x only (mentally) regards y as merely an object, no objectification occurs.
242 Sex
For x to sexually objectify y, x needs to treat y as a sexual object. If x merely
eyes y sexually, or regards y in a sexual way, no objectification occurs. Not
so for Bartky’s definition: the second disjunct (“or else regarded as if they
were capable of representing her”) takes care of the regard business. As Bartky
notes, the prostitute, the Playboy bunny, and the “bathing beauty” would be
sexually objectified (1990, 26).1
Should we define “objectification” as involving only treatment or also regard?
I have no decisive arguments for either option, but a definition that relies solely
on the notion of treatment, though less cluttered, does not capture all there is
about objectification. For although objectification is often about how someone
is treated, it is also as often, if not more, matter of attitude: how we perceive or
approach someone. Thus, a definition that includes regard is more comprehen-
sive and captures many cases of objectification that do not include treatment. For
example, someone looking at pictures of naked women in a magazine sexually
objectifies, yet merely through regard, as no treatment is or could be involved.
Let us, then, rely on the following definition of “sexual objectification”: x sexu-
ally objectifies y if, and only if, x treats or regards y only as a sexual object.2
Note that the second “only” in the above definition is important, because
without it we would treat someone else simultaneously as an object and as
person. Since this is the way we usually deal with people on a regular basis,
objectification without the “only” seems morally innocuous. “Only” is meant
to capture the treatment of someone solely for the sexual purposes of the treater
(even if the treatment includes attention to the needs and pleasures of the treat-
ment’s recipient, as I will explain further below).
Understanding sexual objectification is important not only in itself, but also
for moral analysis. Indeed, among philosophers, the primary interest in the
phenomenon has been moral. To them, sexual objectification is worrisome
because it involves the reduction of a person from a status he or she should
occupy to one he or she should not. If human beings, regardless of individual
merit, have elevated status in virtue of having a lofty property, such as ratio-
nality, humanity, dignity, autonomy, sophisticated mental structure, or even
affinity with God, reducing someone to a lower level is a moral wrong. But
how common the actual occurrence of sexual objectification and how serious it
is are different questions. Other than cases of rape, it is rare to treat our sexual
partners as mere objects in any obvious and troubling ways: not only are we
aware of their humanity but we are attentive to it. This means that if there is
sexual objectification in such cases, we have not yet fully uncovered its nature,
let alone decided how serious it is.
In the vast literature on objectification, especially by feminist writers who
focus on pornography, there is a general tendency to argue that the objectifica-
tion stems from patriarchy and flows from the direction of men to women—
that is, the men tend to be the objectifiers, the women the objectified. Feminist
writers also insist that they are not against sex as such—they are not prudish or
socially conservative about sex. If my arguments below are on the right track,
it turns out that we should be worried about sex because it is sex, and that the
 Sexual Objectification 243
objectification that feminists see in pornography is not because of some special
bad way of viewing women. If objectification in pornography has to do with
sex, then it objectifies both men and women, though to a different extent. I will
argue, using the views of the philosopher Immanuel Kant, (1) that sex is by
nature objectifying, but (2) that the objectification is usually morally tolerable,
and (3) that pornography does not have any additional forms of objectification
directed specifically at women, as many feminist writers believe.
To better understand these issues, let us dive into the moral problems with
objectification.

What Is Morally Wrong With Sexual Objectification?

The core moral problem with objectification is that if people are not only
objects, treating them only as objects dehumanizes or degrades them by low-
ering them to a level they should not occupy. In her essay, “Objectification,”
Martha Nussbaum enumerates seven different ways in which a person can be
objectified:

1. Instrumentality. The objectifier treats the object as a tool of his or her

purposes.
2. Denial of autonomy. The objectifier treats the object as lacking in auton-
omy and self-determination.
3. Inertness. The objectifier treats the object as lacking in agency, and per-
haps also in activity.
4. Fungibility. The objectifier treats the object as interchangeable (a) with
other objects of the same type and/or (b) with objects of other types.
5. Violability. The objectifier treats the object as lacking in boundary integ-
rity, as something that is permissible to break up, smash, break into.
6. Ownership. The objectifier treats the object as something that is owned by
another, can be bought or sold, and so on.
7. Denial of subjectivity. The objectifier treats the object as something whose
experience and feelings (if any) need not be taken into account.
(Nussbaum 1999, 218)

Two (or more) people can have sex yet not objectify each other in any of these
ways. Two (or more) people can have sex yet objectify one another in one or
more of these ways. Let’s use casual sex as a way to see how objectification is
morally problematic.
In typical casual sexual encounters—I focus on one-night stands (hetero-
sexual and homosexual) and anonymous sexual encounters occurring in espe-
cially gay sex establishments—the sexual partners do not treat each other as
violable, as owned by each other, as lacking in agency, autonomy, or subjectiv-
ity. Not only are they aware of each other’s humanity (obviously), but it is a
precondition of their desire; they desire a sexual encounter with another human
being, someone who can respond to their sexual desires and has sexual desires
244 Sex
of his own. Even when they treat their sexual partners as nothing more than
“fuck objects,” they are living, breathing, human fuck objects. So except for
instrumentality and fungibility, casual sex does not seem to fit the other ways
of objectification on Nussbaum’s list.
Fungibility is a pervasive feature of our interactions with each other. The
whole idea, for example, of shopping assumes fungibility as an underlying
principle: shoppers are entitled to go from one shop to another until they buy
what they like, thus treating different sellers and clerks as fungible. All sorts
of people are fungible in this way: car mechanics, plumbers, computer geeks,
flight attendants, teachers. But there are two types of roles in which people are
not fungible. First, parents, children, lovers, siblings, friends, and others in
similar intimate relationships are not fungible. It is at best a twisted joke and at
worst a serious moral mistake to say to a parent whose child just died, “Why
not adopt Jake? He looks just like your son, seems as talented, and is certainly
much better behaved!” Second, there are people to whom we have obligations.
If I promise the flower seller on my street to buy flowers from her, she is not
fungible with other flower sellers; unless she releases me from the promise or
an unusual circumstance arises, I am bound to her.
Because all people are fungible in some respect, as long as we treat them with
the respect expected in our usual interhuman interactions, there is nothing wrong
with treating them as fungible. So if objectification is wrong, it is not because of
fungibility. This includes sex. If I go out to a bar wanting to pick someone up for
sex, I do no wrong in regarding or treating each person as a potential sex partner,
fungible with everyone else or with everyone in a similar category. First, I have
no obligations to have sex with any specific person. Second, I have no special
relationship with anyone that obliges me to treat them as non-fungible. If I have
sex with someone, then, yes, I treat him fungibly, but this is not wrong.
What about instrumentality? It seems that partners to casual sex do objectify
each other in this way: they treat each other as instruments for their own satisfac-
tion. The only difficulty with this reasoning is that instrumentality is a pervasive
feature of our lives. We treat each other as instruments all the time, so if casual sex
is sexually objectifying because it is instrumental, then I objectify, though not sex-
ually, the cashier when I pay him money for the groceries I bought. Thus, it seems
that instrumentality is not only morally permissible but necessary for life to go on.
The problem is not instrumentality as such, but mere instrumentality: treat-
ing others only as instruments (something which Nussbaum acknowledges;
1999, 223), being heedless or disrespectful of the other’s needs, desires, and
wishes—for example, stealing from a shop or paying the seller only what I
wish to pay as opposed to the actual price. Do partners to casual sex treat each
other only as means or not only as a means?
We have seen that normally partners to casual sex are attentive to each oth-
er’s desires and often heed them, much as I heed the cashier’s desire to be paid.
If the cashier’s case is one of permissible instrumentalization, then so should
be every case of casual sex in which partners attend to each other’s sexual
desires and needs. That is, if what makes the cashier’s case permissible is that
 Sexual Objectification 245
I abide by the cashier’s goals, then every case of casual sex should also be per-
missible given that the partners attend to each other’s (sexual) goals. So casual
sex does not seem to be a special problem in this respect. And if casual sex is
not, many other sexual encounters also are not.
But if in casual sex people do not objectify each other, in which other type
of sex do they do so? Isn’t casual sex the home of objectification? How can
we make sense of this thought if it turns out on the above analysis that casual
sex does not usually objectify? Here’s one plausible way to make sense of the
thought: when sexual partners do attend to each other’s desires, they do not
do so ultimately for the other’s sake, but for their own selfish desires. That is,
x gives y sexual pleasure because doing so pleases x or because x wants y to
reciprocate the favor at some point. This might not be similar to the cashier’s
case. Although I do not give him the money for his own sake, but for my own
sake (to get my groceries), his goal of earning money and my goal of getting
groceries seem morally innocent, whereas sexual desire and activity might be
morally suspect, such that satisfying someone’s sexual goals (whether mine or
another’s) might raise moral red flags. As we will see in our discussion of Kant,
this is a crucial consideration that sets sexual desire and activity apart from other
activities. It is indeed here where the discussion of sex and objectification lies.
There are clear cases of objectification. Rape is one: the victim is used
merely as a tool, as an object, for the rapist’s sexual satisfaction. Another is
the case of a man catcalling a woman; this, too, is a clear case of sexual objec-
tification. First, because she does not consent to the act, the catcaller treats
the woman as a mere instrument for his pleasure and also as merely fungible.
Unlike the usual cases of casual sex, in which the participants at least consent
to the act, the woman in this case does not. The man merely uses her. The
catcaller also seems indifferent to her autonomy, agency, and subjectivity; he
says what he wants regardless of what she thinks, wants, or feels. He also treats
her as violable, not physically, but psychologically: he invades her space, her
ability to walk freely without unwanted attention. He might even be treating
her as owned, as something he can do with as he likes. This, however, is more
controversial because the catcaller need not believe that he owns her, which
might be necessary to treat someone (or something) as owned. Thus, catcalling
someone exhibits more forms of objectification than casual sex does.
Now that we have a flavor of what the problem with sexual objectification
is, let us dive into its details. I will explain and defend Kant’s account of it and
then look at some attempts to get around the problem of objectification.

Kant and Objectification

Kant’s Formula of Humanity

Kant’s moral philosophy revolves around the idea that rational creatures, of
which human beings are a prominent type, have special properties on the basis
of which certain kinds of treatment are required. The property of humanity (by
246 Sex
which Kant does not mean the same thing we usually do) is one such prop-
erty, and is the basis on which Kant devised his famous Formula of Humanity,
which is a moral command that tells us how to treat each other.
The Formula of Humanity, as we have seen, states, “Act in such a way that
you treat humanity in others and in yourself not only as a means but also as an
end” (1981, 4: 429). To recap, the idea is that we are not to treat each other as
only tools for our goals, but we must also treat each other as ends in ourselves.
In our treatment of each other, we must take each other’s goals seriously: usu-
ally we must not thwart them, and in some cases we must adopt them as our
own. In some cases, it is not a simple matter of refraining from interfering but
of helping someone attain certain goals. In whatever case, however, we must
always approach others with a particular attitude, that of respecting the goals
and plans of others, whether this respect is passive (non-interference) or active.
Kant’s Formula of Humanity stresses that we should treat the humanity in
us as an end. Humanity or rational nature to Kant is a property of rational
creatures; it is our ability to set ends or goals, whether good or bad, and act on
them, including the capacity to act on moral ends (Hill 1980; Wood 1999, ch.
4, 2008, ch. 5). To Kant, humanity is not something we can bring into existence
or increase in amount; it already exists and is not something, like pleasure,
that can be added to or subtracted from. Moreover, it is an objective end in
that it is true for and binding on everyone; whether we should act for its sake
does not depend on our individual goals or desires to do so. Most important,
humanity to Kant is the most fundamental value and the value on which his
Categorical Imperative is based. Because it is the most fundamental value, it
commands our respect. The question is: What arguments can be offered for this
fundamental value? In one of his books on moral philosophy, Grounding for
the Metaphysics of Morals, Kant gives a brief and dense argument as to why
humanity as an end in itself exists, culminating in his statement of the Formula
of Humanity:

[R]ational nature exists as an end in itself. In this way man necessarily

thinks of his own existence; thus far it is a subjective principle of human
actions. But in this way also does every other rational being think of his
existence on the same rational ground that holds also for me; hence it is
at the same time an objective principle, from which, as a supreme practi-
cal ground, all laws of the will must be able to be derived. The practical
imperative will therefore be the following: Act in such a way that you treat
humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of another, always
at the same time as an end and never simply as a means.
(Kant 1981, 4: 429)

In what follows, I rely on Allen Wood’s interpretation of this argument (2008,

90–93).
In claiming that each human being “necessarily” thinks of his own existence
as an end in itself, Kant seems to say that given the way we act and the things
 Sexual Objectification 247
we say, we can infer that individuals think of their existence as an end in itself
(we don’t necessarily consciously think this; many people don’t think of them-
selves in these terms). When people set goals for themselves, they also set the
means or the ways to attain them. Moreover, in setting these goals, people
think of them as good (or else why set them?). If I set the goal of writing a
book on sex and love, I also set the necessary and sufficient means to achieve
the goal. To me, the goal is good, even if sometimes I don’t feel like taking
the needed steps to attain it (a common feature of human action and thought).
However, in order to be able to set ends or goals for ourselves, we need to
believe that we have the capacity—the rational capacity—to set them. Stated
differently, in believing that we are capable of determining which goals to
set, and in thinking of these goals as good, we must believe that our capacity
to set them is also good. It follows, however, that I must also regard myself
as the entity, the being, that has and is able to act on these rational capacities.
Moreover, because I have this capacity, I must also respect (or esteem) it; it is
the ability on my part to set goals and directions for my life and the means to
achieve these goals. Note that because the object of this respect is the capacity
to set ends, its being an object of respect does not vary from one individual to
another; it does not depend, say, on whether the goals are intelligent, stupid,
moral, or immoral.
Because every rational entity, not just I, represents its existence as an end in
itself (an object of respect), the requirement that I treat humanity in myself not
only as a means but also as an end is an objective principle, applying to me and
every other rational creature. Moreover, because every rational being has this
capacity, I ought to treat it with respect as it exists in me and in every rational
being. Hence, we reach the Formula of Humanity. Humanity—the capacity to
set ends and act on them—is an object of respect in every rational creature,
even if some act foolishly, immorally, or by demeaning themselves. The idea
that humanity exists in every rational creature, regardless of his or her actual
behavior, makes rational creatures autonomous beings in that they have the
ability to act autonomously, even if they don’t always do so. Humanity itself
has dignity simply in virtue of being the capacity to set ends and the means to
act on them (Kant 1981, 4: 436–439). The fact that dignity is grounded in or
attached to a capacity that all rational beings have, regardless of how they actu-
ally act, makes Kantian dignity metaphysical or transcendental; it is unlike the
kind of dignity that we attach to human beings depending on how they actually
act and lead their lives.
Although it has serious limitations, as Wood acknowledges (2008, 93), this
argument is powerful. Having the capacity to set ends is a valuable capacity
in general, one that is good to have in particular, and one that commands our
respect. We can then proceed on the assumption that it succeeds in establish-
ing the existence of a metaphysical form of dignity—a dignity that everyone
has irrespective of how people actually conduct themselves. Indeed, even if
we have doubts about the argument, we have a firm belief in the existence of
such dignity, a belief expressed in our refusal to treat people in certain ways no
248 Sex
matter what they have done. It is perhaps such a belief that prevents us from
refusing to punish criminals in certain ways (e.g., punishing rapists by having
them be raped).
However, we have to be careful because social and cultural values often
misconstrue what it is to be dignified and what it is not. A white mother might
feel that her white daughter is acting in an undignified manner in dating a black
man, because society has decided that certain forms of interracial relationships
are prohibited and not befitting the status of the white race (or either race,
even). Thus, we might agree that human beings should act with dignity and
should not be treated in undignified ways yet disagree on what counts as digni-
fied and undignified behavior and treatment.
Because society can get this wrong, people sometimes feel humiliation for
doing things they should not feel humiliated about. For example, being found
out that one is gay is often experienced as shameful and humiliating, even if
one doesn’t believe there is anything wrong or shameful about being gay; as
the philosopher Claudia Card puts it, “Our liability to shame or other emotional
pain in being defenselessly exposed to others as despicable, contemptible, or
ridiculous does not presuppose that we find those attitudes (contempt, etc.)
deserved” (1995, 159). Roughly speaking, this happens because when people
grow up to do or be the things that society says is wrong, they feel shame for
doing or being these things, and they feel humiliated when caught doing them.
Sometimes it is right to feel ashamed or humiliated, but sometimes it is not,
depending on whether society is right to condemn the things it condemns. One
should feel shame for stealing, but one should not feel shame for loving some-
one from a different race even if one does feel it.
The point is that when we judge treating someone as demeaning, degrading,
or humiliating, we need to ensure that our accusation is based on the proper
moral beliefs and values. Suppose that while watching a pornographic scene in
which a female character screams with pleasure and has sex in all sorts of posi-
tions and ways, we wince with shame or humiliation on her behalf, thinking
that this is demeaning to her. Is this because the sex she has is demeaning, or
is it because we have imbibed social, mistaken views about women and sex? I
will address this issue in the final section of this chapter.

Why Kant Viewed Sex With Suspicion

Let us start with two points before we go into sex. First, Kant’s idea that treat-
ing the humanity in people only as a means (and not also as an end) is wrong
is another way of speaking about objectification, because when we treat the
humanity in someone as a mere tool or means, we treat the person as an object,
as something to do with as we please to achieve our purposes. Moreover, we
normally talk of someone objectifying another person. But to Kant, equally
problematic is the idea that in sexual encounters each person also objectifies
him or herself (Soble 2013b, 323–324) Thus, discussing Kant on objectifica-
tion adds a new twist, which is self-objectification.
 Sexual Objectification 249
Before we proceed, two notes on terminology. (1) Whenever I claim that
“sexual desire is objectifying,” I mean to refer to (a) sexual desire that does not
lead to sexual activity, (b) sexual activity fueled by sexual desire (as opposed
to something else, such as duty or money) for the person(s) with whom the
sexual activity is occurring, or (c) sexual desire that leads to sexual activity
and the ensuing sexual activity stemming from that desire and fueled by it. (2)
I will eventually defend Kant on sex and objectification by developing a more
charitable way of understanding Kant on sexual desire, a way that does not
make him come out saying something simplistic about sexual desire. This I do
by filling in what I consider to be the details of the account, which Kant only
sketches. Thus, I will often use “Kantian view (or account) of sexual desire” to
refer to this way of understanding Kant.
Now to sex. Kant was especially suspicious of sexual desire and thought it
objectifying by its nature. This is because when we sexually desire someone,
we desire her body and body parts, especially the sexual ones, which makes it
very hard, if not impossible, to treat the humanity in her as an end. Kant states,

Because sexuality is not an inclination which one human being has for
another as such, but is an inclination for the sex of another, it is a principle
of the degradation of human nature. . . . The desire which a man has for
a woman is not directed toward her because she is a human being, but
because she’s a woman; that she is a human being is of no concern to the
man; only her sex is the object of his desires. Human nature is thus sub-
ordinated. . . . Human nature is thereby sacrificed to sex. . . . Sexuality,
therefore, exposes mankind to the danger of equality with the beasts.
(Kant 1963, 164)

To Kant, only the sexual impulse among our inclinations is directed at human
beings as such, not “their work and services.” He adds, “Man can, of course,
use another human being as an instrument for his services; he can use his
hands, his feet, and even all his powers; he can use him for his own purposes
with the other’s consent. But there is no way in which a human being can
be made an Object of indulgence for another except through sexual impulse”
(1963, 163). It is morally permissible to use each other for all sorts of purposes
as long as those purposes are morally permissible and consensual. By hiring a
plumber, I use his hands and some of his abilities to fix my plumbing. As long
as the plumber consents, and given that getting my plumbing fixed is morally
permissible, the interaction is morally permissible.
Sexual interactions are different. If two people consent to a casual sexual
encounter, consent is not enough, because the very activity is morally wrong,
since sexual desire makes another an object. Kant says:

Human love is good-will, affection, promoting the happiness of others

and finding joy in their happiness. But it is clear that, when a person loves
another from a purely sexual desire, none of these factors enter into the
250 Sex
love. Far from there being any concern for the happiness of the loved
one, the lover, in order to satisfy his desire and still his appetite, may
even plunge the loved one into the depths of misery. Sexual love makes of
the loved person an Object of appetite; as soon as that appetite has been
stilled, the person is cast aside as one casts away a lemon which has been
sucked dry . . . Taken by itself [sexual love] is a degradation of human
nature; for as soon as a person becomes an Object of appetite for another,
all motives of moral relationship cease to function, because as an Object
of appetite for another a person becomes a thing and can be treated and
used as such by everyone.
(1963, 163)

In brief, we cannot treat someone as having dignity if we treat them as an

“Object of appetite.” Something has to give. We need to explain Kant’s argu-
ment and trace its implications. Only then can we figure out whether his views
are convincing.
There are two crucial ideas in the above passages. The first is that sexual
desire is very powerful, so much so that a man “may even plunge the loved
one [read: desired one] into the depths of misery” to satisfy his desire. This is a
crucial point to which I will briefly return below. The second and, to my mind,
primary reason why Kant indicts sexual desire is that it is, “taken by itself,”
nothing but an appetite for a human being as such. Because this is the nature of
sexual desire, when we sexually desire others we regard them as objects, thus
inhibiting “all motives of moral relationship.” This is the fulcrum of Kant’s
argument for why sexual desire is by its nature objectifying. What does Kant
mean by it?
Suppose that Mark is sitting in a café, watching passersby. A good-looking
woman walks by and he checks her out: he looks at her breasts, her butt, and
her thighs. Mark is not interested in any other aspect of the woman. He cares
about her only as a sexual being. Now suppose that the woman—Mandy—sits
in the café, sees Mark, and also finds him sexually attractive—she checks out
his crotch, his biceps, and his dark brown eyes. Mark strikes up a conversation
with her and soon enough she invites him over to her hotel room (she’s visiting
town) for a bit of “fun.” They go to her room and have sex—they satisfy each
other’s sexual desires on and with each other. Once they are done, they say
their goodbyes and they discard each other like lemons “sucked dry.”
From sexual desire to sexual activity, the partners view and treat each other
merely as sexual beings, to be used for sexual purposes. But this cannot be all
that Kant means. Suppose I hire a plumber. I don’t care about any other aspect
of him except for his plumbing abilities. He does not care about any other
aspect of mine except for my paying abilities. Once he’s done fixing my sink I
pay him and we say our goodbyes. I view him as a plumber, and he views me
as a client. When we finish, we discard each other like lemons “sucked dry.”
Kant must have been aware of situations like these. So why did he single out
sexual desire?
 Sexual Objectification 251
The answer lies in Kant’s remark that sexual desire targets people’s bodies,
not their “work and services.” What he means, I think, is this: When I hire a
plumber, I am interested in a particular ability of his, the ability to fix whatever
plumbing problem I have. When I hire a math tutor, I am interested in her
mathematical abilities. When I hire a masseuse, I am interested in his massag-
ing abilities. In virtually every interaction we have with another person, we are
interested in some ability, talent, or service he or she can perform, an aspect
of people intimately connected, according to Kant, to their rationality—we
need practical or theoretical reasoning (or both) to develop, maintain, and act
on any talent, skill, ability, or service. In these cases, what I desire is not the
people’s bodies or body parts as such, but their abilities, talents, or services. If
I do desire their body parts, it is only in service to their abilities (and the desire
does not feel sexual). Only with sexual desire (and, Kant says, in the rare case
of cannibalism; 1963, 162–163) do I desire the person as such, as a body, as an
object. I want to enjoy the person himself, not his beautiful voice, his company,
or his massaging abilities. If I desire his abilities, it is in service to his embodi-
ment and his physicality. Thus, sexual desire renders people objects by revers-
ing our normal relationship to their bodies. Their bodies become the ultimate,
not the mediate, objects of our attention.
To be clear, Kant did not mean, and could not have meant, that the person
who desires another’s body is indifferent to whether the person is dead or alive;
he did not mean that the desiring person would have been as happy to desire
the other’s corpse. He also did not mean that during sexual activity he does
whatever he wants with the person he desires, no matter whether the desired
person agrees or not. Had he intended any of these meanings, his view would
have been utterly implausible, as it clearly flies against the obvious facts of
sexual interactions, about which Kant surely knew.3
Instead, according to Kant, one desires a living human being, but as an
object, as something on which one can satisfy one’s sexual urges. With sexual
desire, we are not interested in the other person’s abilities, talents, and intellect,
but in the person’s body as a tool for the satisfaction of desire. Thus, when the
desiring person—Mark, say—interacts with Mandy through the lens of desire,
he allows his desire to take charge: it is under its umbrage that he interacts with
Mandy. Mark’s sexual desire for her oversees and directs his interactions with
her. Although he can interact with her as a fellow human being—he might offer
Mandy a glass of water before having sex, he might ask her if what he is sexu-
ally doing to her is okay with her, and so on—this happens under the direction
of sexual desire; all for the purpose of satisfying it.
On the other hand, viewing Mandy through the lens of rationality is differ-
ent: it is Mandy’s purposes and goals that guide Mark’s interaction with her. He
adopts her goals as his own, as Kant would say. Thus, and except for the sexual
parts, the interactions between Mark and Mandy might look similar under the
guidance of either sexual desire or rationality, though the underlying motiva-
tions would be different. Imagine the case of Mark and Mandy differently:
Imagine that Mark, for whatever reason, has sex with Mandy out of pity for
252 Sex
her and not out of his sexual desire for her (indeed, he does not sexually desire
her). Imagine him going through the same actions and steps he does go through
when he has sex with her out of desire. The cases will behaviorally look the
same, but they will have vastly different motivations (on the part of Mark).
Indeed, in the variation of the case, Mark does not sexually objectify Mandy
(though he allows himself to be objectified by her). There is thus a deep tension
between viewing someone through the lens of sexual desire and viewing him
or her through the lens of humanity or rationality.
Note three things. First, even if Mandy’s goal is to also have sex with Mark,
one cannot argue that by heeding her goal Mark is approaching her through the
lens of rationality by adopting her goal. This is because in this case the goal
is wrong: it is to use Mark as a body, period, stemming as it does from sexual
desire. We can then also note that to Kant consent is not sufficient to render sex
permissible (though it is necessary). Suppose that Mark and Mandy, instead of
having sex, agree to rob a bank, go cow tipping, or burn down a forest. The fact
that they consent to these activities does not make them morally permissible.
Similarly, because to Kant sexual desire aims to use another as a mere body,
consent to it does not make it permissible (Soble 2013b, 304–305).
The above point shows how Kant’s understanding of sexual desire does not
satisfy the Formula of Humanity, which, as a reminder, states, “Act in such a
way that you treat humanity in others and in yourself not only as a means but
also as an end.” This moral command requires treating people in two ways.
First, we must not use them as mere tools. Second, we must share or adopt their
goals as if they were our own, which does not mean that we do so in order to
attain our own, but for their own sake. Moreover, the goals have to be morally
permissible (Soble 2013b, 304–305). Thus, not only do Mark and Mandy use
each other as mere tools, they also cannot adopt each other’s goals to use each
other sexually given the wrongness of these goals.
Note, second, that when Mark and Mandy agree to have casual sex, each
views the other as an object. But in agreeing to allow Mark to use her as an
object, Mandy treats herself—or allows herself to be treated—as an object.
Ditto for Mark. To Kant, the moral problem with sexual objectification is not
just Mark treating Mandy as an object, but also treating himself as an object
(1963, 162–164). This happens when he allows Mandy or someone else to
treat him as a sexual object.4 Given that each of Mark and Mandy should not
treat the humanity in themselves as a mere means, they should not adopt the
other’s goal of being treated in this way.5
Note, third, that Mark and Mandy do not treat each other badly in the usual
ways we think of bad treatment: they do not force each other to do things they
do not want to do, for example. Yet they still view, regard, or approach each
other as sexual objects, as mere tools for the satisfaction of their desires. We
thus see the importance of defining “sexual objectification” in such a way as to
include both treatment and regard.
In summary, sexual desire and activity are to Kant especially problematic
because they make us treat people as objects, an attitude incompatible with
 Sexual Objectification 253
treating people as rational human beings endowed with dignity. We approach
them as objects on which to satisfy our lust, making it difficult to take their
goals and ends for their own sakes. Even if two sexual partners are consider-
ate of each other’s sexual goals, they do so only instrumentally, to satisfy their
own sexual ends. Thus, it is difficult to see how two people who desire to have
sex with each other can fulfill the requirements of the Formula for Humanity.
The bottom line for Kant is that sexuality, sexual desire, and sexual activity are
incompatible with viewing and treating others and ourselves as beings with
dignity and rationality.

Evaluating Kant’s View of Sex

The evaluation of Kant’s views targets two issues: Kant’s view of the nature
of sex, and the moral implications that Kant draws from his view of the
nature of sex.
Kant is right about a crucial aspect of sexual desire: it targets the human
being as a body or body parts. As Soble puts it, “The other’s body, his or
her lips, thighs, buttocks, and toes, are desired as the arousing parts they
are, distinct from the person” (2013b, 302). The phenomenology of sexual
desire—how it feels when we undergo it—confirms this point over and again
(see Hamilton 2008). As much as many people like to accuse Kant of being
prudish, anti-sex, a virgin, or in the grip of a religious ethic that made him lose
his senses, we must admit that he is right about this.6 When under the influence
of sexual desire, others’ bodies, whether real or imagined, are our target. Even
sex between lovers is bound to at some point yield to this pure animalism:
during a good sexual act with one’s lover, especially when the lovers have still
not tired of each other’s bodies, at some point they focus on ass, cock, pussy,
tits, and so on. In this respect, Kant is correct that sexual desire and activity
are different—perhaps even unique—from the usual ways with which we view
others and interact with them. Given that this is how sexual desire works, the
conclusion that it objectifies is inescapable: it makes us treat our sexual partner
as an object of desire.
Adding to our woes, sexual desire is not only bad in that it targets peo-
ple’s bodies, and not their humanity. It is also a powerful desire. Imagine
were sexual desire to focus on others’ bodies and body parts but meekly—a
mere twinge that occurs every so often in our cacophonic psyches and whose
voice is drowned in the clamor of other desires and emotions. If this were the
nature of sexual desire, it would be merely a funny, albeit sometimes irritating,
quirk. And its moral danger would be as dire as being threatened by a harmless
child. But, alas, it is not like this. It is a desire whose voice and pull are loud,
insisting, and persistent, so much so that we do irrational, stupid, and immoral
things to satisfy it. It is a strong person indeed who can resist its power over
and over again.
Of course, in our sexual interactions with others, sexual desire does not bring
all moral considerations and behavior to a complete stop. Parties to sexual
254 Sex
encounters still observe limits on how they treat each other: they do not violate
each other, treat each other literally as objects, and so on, exactly because we
understand that we cannot treat people in just any way we want, nor, indeed, do
we want to treat people in any way, to satisfy our desires. Instead, sexual desire
usually operates within moral red lines, so to speak: it works alongside prohibi-
tions against the improper treatment of others. But beyond this, sexual desire
uses the other as a mere instrument for its satisfaction, including, as mentioned,
the attentive nonsexual treatment often given to a potential sexual partner and
the attentive sexual treatment often given during the sexual encounter.
Thus, sexual desire objectifies by using others as mere tools for its satisfac-
tion. Of Nussbaum’s seven ways of objectification, it is mere instrumentality
that is the usual way in which sexual desire objectifies (though of course it
could objectify in other ways). Thus, heeding it is morally wrong. Is there a
way around this conclusion?

Failed Attempts to Resolve the Kantian Problem With Sex

There have been a few ways that try to circumvent or solve the Kantian prob-
lem of objectification.
One quick way with the Kantian problem is to deny that the objectification
is bad in any problematic way. Alan Soble adopts this approach. In his book,
Pornography, Sex, and Feminism, Soble makes the following claim, no doubt
shocking to many: “To complain that pornography presents women as ‘fuck
objects’ is to presuppose that women, as humans or persons, are something
substantially more than fuck objects. Whence this piece of illusory optimism?”
(Soble 2002, 51–52). The illusion to which Soble refers is “the belief that
humans are more than their bodies, more than animals, that, therefore, there
is something metaphysically special about humans, their essential dignity,
their transcendental value, that makes using them, dehumanizing, objectifying
them, morally wrong.” If we don’t have transcendental value, then, in depict-
ing us as mere animals, pornography does nothing wrong. It objectifies us for
sure, but the objectification is not morally problematic (2002, 67). This point
can be extended to sexual encounters more generally: If Mark and Mandy view
and treat each other as basically “fuck objects,” they are not doing anything
wrong because it is illusory to think that they are anything more than animals.
Why does Soble believe that we do not have such a metaphysical property?
One reason is that “most people in the real world are dirty, fat, ugly, dumb,
ignorant, selfish, thoughtless, unreliable, shifty, unrespectable mackerel” (2002,
53–54). Although he’s probably right, neither Kant nor Kantians are under the
illusion that most people are dignified in the ways that Soble denies they are.
Indeed, Kant himself was very aware of human beings’ tendency to heed their
inclinations, instead of moral motives (1996b, 6: 26–32). Kantian respect is
directed at a property that people have in virtue of being persons, even if in their
actual lives they make a bad job of properly displaying it. So Soble’s criticism
in the above quotation is not directed at the proper Kantian view.
 Sexual Objectification 255
Soble gives another reason against believing in dignity as a metaphysical
property that people have in virtue of being persons, namely, that it is difficult, if
not impossible, to prove its existence (2002, 55–63). This line of reasoning can
be put as follows. On the one hand, it is difficult to see how we can know that
this property exists if we merely observe people, because most people do not
conduct themselves in a dignified way. Moreover, studying people and animals
indicates that there is no sharp break between them, so we have less reason to
believe that human beings possess a property that elevates them above animals.
On the other hand, and if we cannot discover this special property empirically
or by observation, we might offer philosophical arguments for its existence, but
without empirical support, believing in its existence would be not much more
than philosophical faith. So whether we have such a property is undecided.
However, the Kantian argument as rendered by Wood that I have explained
above is a strong argument in favor of the existence of such a property. More-
over, as I have mentioned, we seem to believe in its existence regardless of
what Kant himself believed. We do believe that we have dignity, and much
of our interaction with each other, and most of our political, legal, and social
institutions are built on, and make sense only in light of, this belief. Nor is it
far-fetched to think that this belief is true, that we do have dignity or something
like it. We might not see it when human beings act normally on a day-to-day
basis (we instead see many repulsive things), but we do see it every time a
human being is humiliated or tortured or made to grovel. I would venture to
say that even many non-human animals have it, and in their case, too, we see
it when we treat them as objects.
Thus, it is implausible to deny that human beings have dignity. Moreover, sex-
ual desire is such that it makes us bypass it, in us and in those whom we desire,
to pursue sexual pleasure. Yet Soble might be correct that the objectification in
pornography is not selective as feminists think it is, in targeting only women.
And he might be right that it is not as morally dreadful as feminists make it out to
be. (I will argue for these points throughout the rest of this chapter.)
The second attempt to resolve the problem of objectification is by Martha
Nussbaum. Nussbaum argues that, “In the matter of objectification, context is
everything” (1999, 227) and that in some types of relationships, objectifica-
tion is morally permissible. In which relationships? They have to be ones in
which there is “mutual respect and rough social equality” between the two
people, and the sexual objectification, when it occurs in the sexual encounters
between the couple, has to be symmetrical and mutual (1999, 230, 238). So if
two people sexually objectify each other but do so in the context of a mutually
respectful relationship, the objectification is “all right,” even “wonderful.”7
Thus, Nussbaum seems to offer three necessary conditions for objectifica-
tion to be morally permissible or wonderful. First, the objectification has to be
“symmetrical and mutual.” Second, it has to occur within an otherwise mutu-
ally respectful relationship. Third, the parties to the relationship have to be
(roughly) socially equal.8 The objectification would be morally impermissible,
then, if (1) two people have sex in a mutually objectifying way but don’t have a
256 Sex
respectful relationship; (2) if two people in an otherwise respectful relationship
have objectifying sex but the objectification is not mutual; or (3) if two people
have an otherwise mutually respectful relationship and mutually objectifying
sex, but they are not of (rough) equal social status.
Note that Nussbaum’s view implies that casual sex, including sex with pros-
titutes, involves morally impermissible objectification. Nussbaum explicitly
states this point: “For in the absence of any narrative history with the person,
how can desire attend to anything else but the incidental, and how can one
do more than use the body of the other as a tool of one’s own states?” (1999,
237). Thus, the presence of a mutually respectful relationship is necessary for
objectification to be permissible or “wonderful.”
But unless Nussbaum addresses the very nature of sexual desire and activity,
it is not clear what is so problematic about casual sexual encounters that is also
not problematic about the vast majority of our (nonsexual) interactions with
each other. And thus it is not clear what the context of a mutually respectful rela-
tionship adds to make the objectification acceptable. Why is narrative history
necessary for acceptable sex but not for other casual yet nonsexual encounters?
This points to the main problem with Nussbaum’s account. To see it, suppose
that Belinda and Brian are in a mutually respectful relationship. Every now and
then, however, Brian slaps Belinda around and orders her to clean his feet and
then drink the water as a sign of respect for him. Obviously, slapping Belinda
and making her wash his feet and drink the filthy water is wrong. Would the fact
that they have an otherwise mutually respectful relationship make it morally
acceptable, even “wonderful”? Clearly not, because if an action is wrong, it is
wrong even if it is part of an otherwise morally good relationship. Therefore,
if sexual objectification is wrong, it will remain wrong in such a relationship.
As Soble puts the point, “But it is not, in general, right . . . that my treating you
badly today is either justified or excusable if I treated you admirably the whole
day yesterday and will treat you more superbly tomorrow and the next day”
(2013b, 316). So Nussbaum’s view is mistaken, and the main reason is that it
leaves the nature of sexual desire untouched. On the Kantian view, the nature
of sexual desire remains the same, relationship or no relationship. Nussbaum
might be better off accepting that the sexual encounters in these relationships
are wrong because they involve objectification, but argue that other factors
make their wrongness tolerable (this is what I will argue below).
A third attempt to resolve the Kantian problem is to argue that in sex we
often attend to the other’s sexual needs and desires. This, however, is not con-
vincing, because, as I have emphasized, we often attend to the other’s needs
and desires because it is sexually pleasurable to do so: when Mark performs
oral sex on Mandy, he does so because he desires to, because her clitoris and
vagina are objects he wants to smell, lick, and (gently) bite. That it gives her
pleasure is either incidental to Mark’s sexual desire or it enhances his sexual
desire; after all, not many things are more sexually pleasurable than witness-
ing your sexual partner moan and shudder with the sexual pleasure that you
provide. To be clear, we sometimes please another out of nonsexual desire.
 Sexual Objectification 257
Perhaps we believe that we owe it to give him or her sexual pleasure. If we do
so, then we treat him or her in a non-objectifying way. But, of course, this is
true only because we do not act from sexual desire.
A fourth attempt to resolve the problem is to argue that in sexual attraction
and interaction we still view the other as a human being. Goldman claims this:
“Even in an act which by its nature ‘objectifies’ the other, one recognizes a
partner as a subject with demands and desires by yielding to those desires, by
allowing oneself to be a sexual object as well, by giving pleasure or ensuring
that the pleasures of the act are mutual. It is this kind of reciprocity which
forms the basis of morality in sex” (2013, 70). What distinguishes this fourth
attempt from the third is the idea that we recognize the other during sexual
encounters as a “subject with demands and desires.”
This attempt, however, also does not succeed because the recognition of
the other as a “subject with demands and desires” is not something that Kant
denies or need deny. Indeed, as we have seen, it is (except for cases of necro-
philia) a precondition for sexually desiring another human being.
A variation of this attempt is given by the philosopher Irving Singer, who states
that “though sexual interest resembles an appetite in some respects, it differs from
hunger or thirst in being an interpersonal sensitivity, one that enables us to delight
in the mind and character of other persons as well as in their flesh. . . . [S]ex
may be seen as an instinctual agency by which persons respond to one another
through their bodies” (1984b, 382). But, again, Kant need not deny anything in
the above. Yes, sexual desire can be thought of as an “interpersonal sensitivity,”
yes “it enables us to delight in the mind and character of other persons as well
as their flesh,” and yes it allows people to “respond to one another through their
bodies.” Yet all of these are compatible with thinking of sexual desire as using
people purely instrumentally: the delight, for example, in the mind and character
of another person is in the service of the satisfaction of lust when sexual desire
is at work. Sexual desire would hardly attain its goals if it always worked in the
crass and obvious ways that philosophers like Goldman and Singer (and Shrage
and Stewart; see note 3) believe Kant thought of it.
A fifth attempt is to think of sexual desire not as a brute desire for some-
one else’s (live) body, as a mere desire for the contact with another’s body, à
la Goldman’s definition of “sexual desire,” but as a potentially and usually
sophisticated desire infused with intentionality, à la Seiriol Morgan (2003b).
Allen Wood puts this point in this way: “Plainly there is far more to sex than
the desire to use another’s body in a degrading manner for your selfish plea-
sure. Even the elements in sexual desire closest to this are combined, at least in
healthy people, with other elements of human emotion that radically transform
their meaning” (2008, 227, my emphasis).
But a Kantian view of sexual desire can accommodate the psychological
complexity of human beings. It can accommodate Morgan’s insights on how
sexual desire is infused with intentionality and Wood’s view that it can be
combined with other emotions. For example, I might sexually desire Jonathan
because he is, among other things, a kind person, such that I would not have
258 Sex
desired him if he were not kind. But once I do desire him, I desire his body
and body parts. Wood underestimates the ability of sexual desire to be selfish
while layered in other elements of human emotions, and he attributes to Kant
an unnecessarily simplistic view of sexual desire—a Kantian view of sexual
desire need not imply that it is crassly selfish or that having sex will always be
in a degrading “manner”—it can be quite attentive and sensitive to the other’s
needs, as I have explained.
Nonetheless, Wood’s remarks open up the possibility of combining sex-
ual desire with “other elements of human emotion” to make it less morally
toxic, though how to do this remains to be argued for. For such arguments
to succeed, what needs to be shown is not just claiming that, say, sex can
come with love and leave it at that, because a sexual encounter between two
lovers can be purely sexual or can alternate between being purely sexual and
being loving. During those moments when it is sexual, the objectification is
there. That is, during the sexual encounter, sexual objectification emerges
and recedes depending on how the lovers are feeling at any moment dur-
ing the encounter. So any argument that takes up Wood’s suggestion must
inject sexual desire with these healthy emotions, so that its very nature—its
chemical nature, so to speak—is changed on that occasion. It will be like
injecting an angry tiger with a tranquilizer—it makes its ferociousness sub-
side, but only for a while. It is interesting to see whether such arguments can
succeed. I am not holding my breath.
Thus, if Kant is right, and I suspect that he is (I have certainly yet to see
one convincing argument that he is not), there is no escaping the fact that
sexual desire objectifies and reduces the person to the status of an object. Sexu-
ally desiring someone is simply not compatible with treating him or her as an
end in him or herself. Sexual objectification is inescapable: once we sexually
desire someone, we invite it in. This does not mean that all sexual activity is
objectifying: the routine, boring sex that a couple of many years has may not
be objectifying insofar as it does not stem from sexual desire for each other,
and a prostitute who fellates a client she does not desire does not objectify him
(though she allows him to objectify her). Any sexual activity that does not stem
from sexual desire might not be objectifying.

Living With Sexual Objectification

Elsewhere I have argued that Kant was right that objectification was wrong
but he was wrong to make much of it. It is a wrong that can be overcome or
trumped by other factors so as to make its existence tolerable (Halwani 2013).
What I argued (and by which I still stand) is that objectification is not a serious
moral wrong because of three general reasons. First, many sexual acts involv-
ing objectification are consensual, not harmful, and in which the partners pay
attention to each other’s sexual needs. Compared to other wrongs, such as
lying and coercion, which involve serious harm to the victim and using them
as a mere means, objectification looks innocent.
 Sexual Objectification 259
Second, sexual activity contains good things that can overcome or
weaken the wrongness of objectification. For one thing, sex is very pleasur-
able and exciting. Indeed, “for many people who are not able to experience
lofty pleasures (e.g., from reading classical Arabic poetry, contemplating
Velázquez paintings, or drowning in the joyous seas of interpreting Witt-
genstein), sexual pleasure is one of the few pleasures they have” (Halwani
2013, 456). For another, sexual activity is recreational, “often providing
(like other activities, such as solving jigsaw puzzles) needed entertainment,
release, intense focus, and other forms of distraction from the humdrum or
toil of everyday life” (Halwani 2013, 456). Finally, some people do not want
love, sexual commitments, or monogamous relationships, and some people
prefer bed-hopping and sexual variety. To them, no-strings attached sexual
activity is especially important.
Third, on some moral views, “leading a rich, human life is important for
human beings to flourish or live well. If sexual activity, undertaken moderately
and in overall morally permissible ways, is part of such a life, then [casual sex
and promiscuity] can contribute to it” (Halwani 2013, 456).
For all these reasons, sexual objectification is a wrong we can tolerate. It
is like getting tipsy or slightly drunk: in doing so we subvert our rationality
and our brain goes out on a hike for brief period of time, and we even degrade
ourselves (the sight of an inebriated person, no matter to what degree is the
inebriation, is never pleasant), but it is on occasion overall okay.
None of the above is to say that moral objectification cannot be serious.
Indeed, rape, among other things, is a serious form of sexual objectification—
just think of how it fits all seven ways of objectification on Nussbaum’s list.
Catcalls fit also a few on that list. And there are cases in which partners are not
attentive to each other’s sexual needs. The degree of the seriousness of sexual
objectification depends on the case. In some cases, it is morally tolerable, in
others it is not.
In the discussion of pornography that follows, I take it for granted that Kan-
tian sexual objectification is at work in pornography: the actors or participants,
insofar as they sexually desire each other, sexually objectify each other, and
the viewer, in desiring them, sexually objectifies them also. The discussion
will focus on whether pornography especially objectifies women in additional,
perhaps non-Kantian ways.

Pornography and Degradation

Consider the following two examples. Rodrigo, a sexually active gay guy, goes
out one night to a bar and picks up two guys. He takes them back home for
sex. Most of the sexual activity consists of Rodrigo on all fours with one guy
fucking him doggie style while Rodrigo fellates the other guy. The guys rotate
fucking him and getting sucked by him. Rodrigo enjoys the act thoroughly. It is
one of the best nights of his life. Has Rodrigo engaged in any degrading activ-
ity? Has his dignity been compromised in any way?
260 Sex
Now consider the same example but this time with Rita instead of Rodrigo:
she picks up two guys in a bar and they have sex with each other in the same
way that Rodrigo did with his buddies. Has Rita engaged in any degrading
activity? Has her dignity been compromised in any way?
Before we begin, note that the following discussion will be couched in terms
of “degradation.” This is the concept I will use because much feminist criti-
cism of pornography relies on it. I will assume, however, that other concepts
are not far behind. Specifically, I will assume that if a sexual act is degrading,
it is also objectifying.
Why think that such behavior is degrading? Let’s consider a few reasons.
First, perhaps deeply religious or socially conservative people (let’s set aside
their worries about gay sex) might think that only degenerate people engage
in such sexual activity (e.g., threesomes, doggie-style), so when a decent per-
son does it he or she degrades him or herself. To them, only certain forms
of sexual activity are fitting for human beings: sex only between two people
(only missionary style?) who, perhaps, should be spouses or committed to each
other. But since such a view has a hard time justifying where it draws the line
between acceptable and unacceptable sexual activity, I will set it aside.
A second reason to believe that the sex that Rodrigo and Rita have is degrad-
ing is that it does not take into account the humanity of the participants because
it focuses solely on their bodies. This is the Kantian claim that I have explained
above. In the cases of Rita and Rodrigo, there is degradation because there is
objectification. However, the objectification is tolerable because all the factors
I mentioned above are present (e.g., consent and pleasure). So, although this
activity is degrading in the Kantian way, all sexual activity is degrading in that
way, and we want to know whether these cases have an extra layer of degrada-
tion unaccounted for by the Kantian one.
A third reason to think that the sexual activity in which Rodrigo and Rita
engage is degrading is that some sexual positions are degrading in their nature,
so to speak. Which sexual positions? Well, maybe those that require us to put
our faces in someone else’s crotch, or those positions that make us look like
animals, such as being on all fours (Soble 1996, 215–216). Maybe the best we
can hope for is missionary style sex, under the sheets, looking at the face of
your partner, in the dark, and using your hand to guide your organ (when or if
necessary).
There is some truth to the idea that some sexual positions might be degrad-
ing. To see this, consider a case in which John brings his friend Dixon, say, a
spoon or a fork because Dixon forgot to bring it before he sat at the table. There
is nothing morally problematic about this case. But consider a variation of the
case in which John brings the spoon to Dixon but he does so while crawling
and holding the spoon in his mouth. Such an action, we would agree, is degrad-
ing to John (even if John consented to it or enjoyed it). Something similar goes
on in the case of sex. There is something about us standing up or standing “tall”
that we associate with pride and dignity; there is something similar also about
looking each other in the eye that we associate with dignity. Our ability to stand
 Sexual Objectification 261
up and face others, and the humiliation we associate with being on our knees,
seem to be universal human beliefs, not the remnants of some discarded (or
one that should be discarded) belief system.
However, I would like to set such forms of indignity aside for the rest of
the discussion for the simple reason that they are not essential to sex. That is
to say, being on all fours, or putting one’s face in another’s crotch or behind
is demeaning, whether done sexually or nonsexually. Sex is not special here.
So let us assume that such sexual positions are not degrading because they are
sexual.
A fourth reason has to do with how the men treat Rita and Rodrigo during
the sexual encounter. If they bypass Rita’s and Rodrigo’s desires, wishes, and
decisions, the men would have mistreated Rita and Rodrigo. However, the only
way for this to happen is for Rita and Rodrigo to not consent to the activity (or
parts of it). As long as they consent to it (even if they do not desire or enjoy
some parts of it), they would not be used merely as a means. This form of deg-
radation occurs in rape or cases of non-rape sexual activity that lacks consent
(if such cases exist).
Here’s a fifth reason. To see it, let’s change a bit the case of Rodrigo: let’s
assume that he is black and the two guys with whom he has sex are white.
Would that make the case degrading to Rodrigo? Assume that none of the guys
is racist and that no one was into racializing the sex—no one, say, uses racial
slurs as part of the sexual activity to make it more pleasurable. Still, someone
might argue as follows: “Whether we like it or not, fucking someone is associ-
ated with power or high social status, and being fucked is associated with a
low social status. Even our language reflects this (e.g., ‘I got fired today. I’m so
fucked’). So when a black guy gets fucked by two white guys, the sexual activ-
ity just reads differently and seems, well, demeaning. Being black and getting
fucked by white guys does not sound right.” Similar reasoning applies to the
case of Rita: Given the power dynamics between men and women, given the
history of sexism and how women have been viewed as sex objects, having a
woman be fucked by two guys seems just demeaning. Rita might be degraded
by such an activity and she lets herself be degraded. It is on considerations
such as this that feminist writers on pornography rely to make the case that por-
nography degrades or objectifies women. We will, of course, investigate these
considerations. But, for now, a brief remark about the Rodrigo case is merited.
There is no doubt that socially and politically aware people might be made
uncomfortable with Rodrigo’s example. There is something about a black man
being fucked by two white guys that seems to replicate social inequality. But
this discomfort might be due to our sensitivity to race issues in general, not to
anything in the sexual activity itself. If Rodrigo, as the case has it, initiates the
activity, if he has sufficient say in what goes on, if he asserts and acts on his
desires, and if he consents to what goes on, we have no reason to think that
the activity is morally amiss. It might be that one or more of the participants
is racist—perhaps Rodrigo buys into white standards of beauty, or the white
guys are exoticizing Rodrigo (whatever this means). But it also might not be,
262 Sex
and surely not all cases of interracial sex are problematic for these reasons. If
something else is still morally lacking in this case, I cannot think of what it is,
and it might be simply a reflection of our own (well-intentioned and generally
properly positioned) sensitivity about race and racial relations.
So far, then, we have no good reason to believe that such sexual activity
contains any additional sexual degradation to the Kantian one.
Now suppose that the two cases of Rita and Rodrigo are pornographic
scenes: they take place on camera, by actors (who, say, enjoy the activity that
ensues), made by one of the many existing pornography companies, and is
eventually posted on the Internet and can be accessed by anyone. Does this
add a new factor to the discussion? Many feminists who are against pornogra-
phy would say yes. That is, many feminists argue that the sexual depiction of
women in pornography adds a level of degradation that is not as such sexual.
The problem, in other words, is not sex as such, but pornography and how
pornography depicts sexual activity. How do arguments for such a position go?
Let’s look at and evaluate three such arguments.

Three Feminist Anti-Pornography Views

In what follows I will assume a general familiarity on the part of the reader
with the field of pornography. I will be concerned with visual pornography
(not the type that is read), including still images (of individual men and women
and of sexual acts involving two or more people) and moving images (videos,
films, streaming activity). I will also assume that the reader knows that por-
nography is a hugely diverse field catering to every sexual taste, though some
forms (straight and gay mainstream pornography) predominate.
Anti-porn feminists claim to not be against sex as such. They criticize por-
nography on grounds having to do with women’s issues, implicating it in abuse
against women, in higher incidents of rape, and in even creating a climate in
which women are silenced and their civil rights eroded. A common element
to feminist and conservative criticisms is harm: pornography harms women,
either because it constitutes harm or because it leads to harm, for society in
general or women in particular (MacKinnon 1993, 1997; Langton 2009, esp.
chs. 1 and 10; Eaton 2007)
The criticisms I address are different. They are Kant-inspired ones, basically,
that pornography degrades women. I will explain and examine this criticism by
referring to the views of three of its advocates: Judith Hill, Helen Longino, and
Ann Garry. It is crucial to note before we begin that although these criticisms
of pornography are Kant-inspired, none of them relies on Kant’s views of the
nature of sexual desire. The inspiration is simply Kant’s view of dignity. As we
will see, however, such feminist objections do not actually rely on Kant but
only on a general view of what it means to be degraded.
Judith Hill claims that to be degraded is to be lowered in moral status: “[T]o
give this account a Kantian interpretation: degradation involves being treated
as though one were a means only, as though one were not an end in herself,
 Sexual Objectification 263
as though one were something less than a person” (1991, 64). But she insists
that “it is a necessary condition of degradation that a person be perceived—by
herself or by others—as being treated as something less than a person. Deg-
radation occurs with the creation of a public impression that a person is being
treated as something less than a person” (1991, 64). We can immediately see
one implausible implication of this point, namely, that some clearly degrading
activities turn out to not be degrading on Hill’s view: if someone privately
treats me as his personal mule by forcing me to carry his furniture on my back
as I crawl on all fours, but such that no one, including myself, perceives this as
degradation, I am, according to Hill, not degraded. This is an implausible claim
(not to mention an un-Kantian one).
Unlike some other anti-porn feminists, Hill does not wish to condemn the
entire pornography industry but only what she calls “victim pornography,”
which is:

the graphic depiction of situations in which women are degraded by

sexual activity, viz., (a) situations in which a woman is treated by a man
(or by another woman) as a means of obtaining sexual pleasure, while
he shows no consideration for her pleasure or desires or well-being, and
(b) situations in which a woman is not only subjected to such treatment,
but suggests it to the man in the first place. Furthermore, Victim Pornog-
raphy presents such activity as entertaining. There is no suggestion that
women should not be treated as less than persons; and often there’s no hint
that a woman might dislike such treatment.
(1991, 67–68)

But what is “victim pornography”? For a type of pornography to count as vic-

tim pornography, according to Hill, two conditions must be satisfied. First,
women must be depicted as degraded, in the way explained above. Second,
there must be no suggestion that the depiction is wrong (I take it that Hill
equates “being entertaining” with “no suggestion that women should not be
treated as less than persons,” even though they need not be: a documentary can
be entertaining as it cautions its viewers against treating women as less than
persons; but I think by “entertaining” Hill means “aimed at sexual arousal”).9
Let’s evaluate this view. Hill’s first condition is unclear because Hill charac-
terizes it in two different ways. The first is what we find in (a) above: that the
woman’s desires are not taken into account even if the woman requests such
selfish sex. The second is found in Hill’s claim that “I am . . . concerned here
with . . . Victim Pornography: depictions of women being bound, beaten, raped,
mutilated, and, as often as not, begging for more” (1991, 68). This character-
ization is different from the first. Binding, beating, raping, and mutilating are a
far cry from sexual activity in which the man does not heed the woman’s plea-
sure. One doesn’t even include the other: very few women, if any, would desire
to be mutilated, beaten, and raped, though being bound and gagged is different.
Moreover, one hardly finds scenes depicting such behavior in pornography, not
264 Sex
even in specialized subgenres that cater to, say, S/M desires (there’s flogging,
to be sure, but using “beating” to refer to such activity is underhanded and
misguiding). I will thus set aside such accusations against pornography.
Note also how the two characterizations need not coincide. A man can
unselfishly cater to a woman’s desire to be bound and tickled even if he is not
turned on by it. Conversely, a man can selfishly have anal sex with a woman
despite her lack of desire for this activity (that the woman does not desire the
sex does not mean that she does not consent to it).
So let us then understand “victim pornography” as the claim embodied in
(a). If the depiction of much sexual activity in pornography is one that seems
to be mere use of the women for the pleasure of men, then much pornography
will indeed depict the degradation of women, and in a very Kantian way: as
mere use, as reduction to object-hood. Pornography would then traffic in the
objectification and degradation of women.
The problem, however, is that it is not clear how we can know which scenes
in pornography fall under the description in Hill’s (a) condition.10 Consider
the example of Rita again. She is on all fours being fucked by one guy as she
fellates the other, all the while moaning with pleasure, and every now and then
saying things like, “Yeah. Right there. Fuck me right there,” in that whiny-
like sounding voice so typical of professional straight pornography. Are the
men selfishly using her for their own pleasure? It is not obvious how they are
when she is depicted as fully enjoying the sexual act. Indeed, almost all por-
nography depicts women enjoying the sexual acts, including having orgasms
(whether real or fake is often hard to know), and in many cases the depictions
are real: many women salivate heavily as they are fellating a man, a good sign
of sexually enjoying the act. Even with the cum shot—with the man or men
ejaculating on the woman’s face—it is hard to tell. This is not because women
feel sexual pleasure in having semen spurted on their faces (though they surely
might, if gay men’s pleasure is any indicator, given that many gay men derive
sexual pleasure from another man coming on their faces), but because they
might enjoy the act in other ways: they were able to make the men come, the
sexual act is finally over, they take pleasure in the men’s pleasure, and so on.
Moreover, even if they do not enjoy the act in any way, this does not mean
much, as long as the women are depicted enjoying other parts of the sexual
activity. Because not every part of a sexual activity is always enjoyed by all
the parties to the act, not enjoying one part by one person need not indicate
selfishness on the part of the other parties to the act.
So it is difficult to know whether the men are being selfish in pornography.
Certainly they are depicted as sexually enjoying the women, but the women,
too, are depicted as sexually enjoying the men. Moreover, a long time ago the
straight pornography industry did not care much for how the men (the actors)
looked; many of them were physically undesirable. In such cases, it was hard
to see how the depictions of women enjoying the acts were convincing. Today,
however, most of the male actors in pornography are good-looking: well-built,
clean-cut, and generally reflecting what the dominant societal standard of good
 Sexual Objectification 265
looks is. So depicting women as enjoying the sexual activity is even more con-
vincing these days than before.
This is not to say that there are no pornographic depictions demeaning to
women. Sometimes a movie shows the male actor talking to the cameraman
about how sexy the woman he is about to have sex with is. The two talk to
each other over the woman; she is voiceless and present only for the men. The
male actor often flips her around, opens up her anus or vagina with his fingers
to exhibit it to the camera, and squeezes her breasts for the same purpose. Such
depictions show the woman as nothing but an object for the man’s or men’s
pleasure. They are thus degrading: they degrade the woman by removing her
agency entirely. It is different if the woman herself does this for the camera: If
she is to be a fuck object, the least one could do is have her make this decision—
let her look at the camera and say, “I am a fucking machine. I want these men,
weak with desire, to taste my pussy and feel what it is like to fuck it.” At least
in this way, she will be a sexual subject.11
Thus, it is hard to accept Hill’s view as it stands, for the simple reason that
what she describes as “victim pornography” mostly does not exist. While some
pornographic depictions show women as lacking in agency and as mere sex
objects for men, most show women taking pleasure in the sexual activity and
as enjoying it in some way or another. If “degradation” means “the depiction
of using women as mere sexual tools,” as Hill means by it, then pornography
is mostly free of the degradation of women. Sure enough, it depicts everyone
using everyone else as a mere tool for their pleasure, but this is our old friend
Kantian degradation, and applies to both women and men.
Let us turn then to another view of pornography and the degradation of women,
that of Helen Longino. Longino’s view is similar to Hill’s yet different in one cru-
cial respect. She defines “pornography” as “verbal or pictorial explicit representa-
tions of sexual behavior that, in the words of the Commission on Obscenity and
Pornography, have as a distinguishing characteristic ‘the degrading and demean-
ing portrayal of the role and status of the human female . . . as a mere sexual object
to be exploited and manipulated sexually’” (1991, 85). In pornography women
are represented as slavish to men; they have no sexual desires of their own, except
for those catering to the men’s. If women’s sexual pleasure is represented, it is
represented only as a means to the pleasure of men, not as its own end (1991,
85–86). Moreover, according to Longino, sexually explicit material could depict
what pornography depicts without being morally problematic, because such
material could explore the consequences of such degrading treatment to its vic-
tim (e.g., documentaries). Pornography, however, endorses or recommends such
degrading treatment of women, not just represents it (1991, 86–87).
Degrading treatment, according to Longino, “includes physical harm or
abuse, and physical or psychological coercion. In addition, behavior which
ignores or devalues the real interests, desires and experiences of one or more
participants in any way is degrading. Finally, that a person has chosen or con-
sented to be harmed, abused, or subjected to coercion does not alter the degrad-
ing character of such behavior” (1991, 87).
266 Sex
There are two claims that distinguish Longino’s view from Hill’s. The first
is the claim that if women’s pleasure is depicted, it is depicted not for its own
sake or end, but as a means for the pleasure of the men. The second claim is
the endorsement view, that pornography endorses or accepts the depiction of
the degrading treatment of women.12 Before getting to these two claims, it is
important to understand what Longino means by “degradation.”
Unfortunately, what Longino says (quoted above) is unhelpful. On a normal,
surface reading of pornographic depictions, one does not encounter “physi-
cal harm or abuse,” and one does not encounter “physical and psychological
coercion.” Indeed, it is not clear how we could find these things simply by
watching pornography. Consider a dorm-room sex scene of a guy and a gal (his
girlfriend?) during which we hear nothing except for their occasional grunts
and moaning: the scene depicts him fucking her in different positions, with him
deciding on the position and when to change from one position to another. Is
this an example of physical or psychological coercion? Is the woman depicted
as being psychologically coerced into assuming positions she does not want?
How would we know? By taking her silence as surrender to coercion? But
we have no reason to; the silence might mean that the woman is enjoying the
surrender to the guy; the silence is her way of having sex. Certainly, the scene
gives us no contrary clues. Other similar scenes contain explicit demands by
the woman (“I want to sit on your cock,” e.g.), which are clues that the woman
is not being coerced.
Furthermore, Longino’s claim that degrading behavior is “behavior which
ignores or devalues the real interests, desires and experiences of one or more
participants in any way” is unclear. What are these “real” interests? As I have
already argued, the sexual depictions usually show all parties to the sexual
activity enjoying it. All their sexual interests seem to be depicted. If Longino
has in mind nonsexual interests, then it is not clear what they are or whether
they have a place in pornography. Should the characters discuss a passage from
Heidegger, public education in the United States, or the latest numbers of the
financial market before having sex? (During the sex is a non-starter.)
Let us turn to the two claims that distinguish Longino’s view from Hill’s.
The first is that the depiction of the woman’s pleasure, when present, is for
the sake of the man and not of the woman. Yet, again, this is hard to establish.
With men, in addition to continued partaking in the sexual act, their pleasure is
depicted with the orgasm. The same with women, except that women are often
depicted as more vocal and their orgasm depicted multiple times in the same
scene (again, whether fake or real is hard to tell). But other than this it is dif-
ficult to see how to depict the pleasure as being for its own sake as opposed to
for the sake of someone else. If a woman screams “I’m coming, I’m coming”
yet the man does not stop fucking her, does this depict the man selfishly using
the woman’s pleasure to keep going or does it depict the woman’s desire to
have more and more sex?
We now come to the second, more crucial claim that pornography endorses
the degradation of women. (It is hard to assess this claim without having a
 Sexual Objectification 267
good grip on how the women are exactly being degraded, but let us understand
it along Hillian lines as women being used merely for the sake of the sexual
pleasure of men.) What does it mean for pornography to endorse this degrada-
tion? The best way to understand it is by using art as a case and distinguish-
ing between representation or depiction, on the one hand, and endorsement or
adopting a perspective towards the depiction, on the other. For example, Leni
Riefenstahl’s notorious film Triumph of the Will not only shows or describes
Hitler’s words and actions during the 1934 Nuremberg rally for the Nazi party
but also seems to view it with favor, as if saying, “What I show you is a good
thing.” The film endorses what it represents. John Milton’s poem Paradise
Lost depicts Satan as powerful and seductive. However, the poem does not
endorse this view but that Satan is especially evil, and we should always be on
our guard because he is very seductive. In short, works of art often adopt points
of view that either approve or disapprove of their content, of what they repre-
sent. Moreover, to figure out what a work of art is endorsing (if it is endorsing
something), it needs to be interpreted (Gaut 1998). One can even argue that one
of the crucial aims of art interpretation is understanding an artwork’s point of
view or perspective on its subject matter.
Longino’s claim about pornography can be understood along the above
lines. If a movie does not depict women’s pleasure, it is endorsing the view
that such pleasure does not matter. If a movie does depict women’s pleasure,
then it is endorsing the view that it matters only for the sake of the men’s
pleasure. Longino’s point is that both forms of depiction take the women as
purely instrumental to men’s pleasure, and that the movie accepts this claim—
it cheers it on. So even a work of pornography that depicts women’s pleasures
still endorses the view that this pleasure is ultimately for the sake of the men, its
importance existing only as a bridge to that of men’s pleasure. Note that being
fantasy does not preclude pornography from having a point of view regarding
its content. Fairy tales, science fiction, and romance novels are all fantasy, but
they can still endorse, reject, or have a point of view about their content.
The question, however, is what it means for pornography to have a point of
view regarding its content. Another philosopher, Anne W. Eaton, claims that
“pornography endorses by representing women enjoying, benefiting from, and
deserving acts that are objectifying, degrading, or even physically injurious
and rendering these things libidinally appealing on a visceral level” (2007,
682). The issue is not just depicting men and women enjoying degrading and
submissive sexual activity but also that pornography eroticizes this behavior,
making it sexually arousing to the audience (Eaton 2007, 682). Eaton claims
this of inegalitarian pornography, pornography that eroticizes gender inequity
(2007, 676).13 In short, the way pornography endorses women’s degradation
is by (1) representing degrading sexual acts as pleasurable to the characters;
(2) suggesting that such treatment is “acceptable and even merited”; and (3)
eroticizing this behavior (2007, 682).
Pornography certainly represents sexual acts as pleasurable and acceptable
to the characters (I’m not sure what “merited” means). It also eroticizes them
268 Sex
in order to arouse the viewer (this is its point, after all). The issue is whether
it represents degradation and, in doing all three, it endorses anything. Eaton
does not defend or elaborate the view that certain types of pornography are
degrading. But she needs to, because, as we have seen, the bulk of heterosexual
pornography depicts men and women involved in all sorts of sexual acts that
do not seem to be especially degrading.
Despite the above efforts by Longino and Eaton, it does not seem true that
pornography endorses the degradation of women, and for two reasons. First,
for pornography to endorse its content, it must have content. Longino has in
mind degradation. But if, as I have been arguing, generally speaking pornog-
raphy has no degradation (nothing over and above the Kantian variety), there
is no degradation for it to endorse. This means that if pornography endorses
anything, it is the unsurprising idea that “sex is pleasurable and we want the
viewer to find it pleasurable, too.” The typical heterosexual pornography film
seems to endorse the following bland view (if it endorses any view at all):
“The men and women depicted in this film enjoy having sex; sex is good, and
we want you, the viewer, to enjoy it, too.” This is a bland message, one that
is almost universal in content, covering most heterosexual pornography (of
course, some individual films, magazines, or Internet sites might adopt more
specific points of view toward their content).
Second, and unlike works of art, pornography is a mass or popular medium
whose function is to sexually arouse the viewer. Because individual works of art
have some insight to offer (in theory, that is, because most artworks are boring
and banal), some message to convey, some point of view to share, it is important
for critics to consider what each says, what worldview it has. Indeed, one reason
why works of art are valuable is that we understand them to offer new or interest-
ing insights. We thus take seriously not only an artwork’s representation—what
it depicts—but also the point of view it adopts toward its content—what view, if
any, it endorses. Without the latter, art loses almost all its interest. Our interest,
for example, in Rawi Hage’s novel De Niro’s Game is not simply its depiction
of the Lebanese civil war, but also what the novel itself has to say about it. If we
did not take an interest in the latter, we would not understand that many of the
protagonist’s actions, though brutal, are also sad, tragic, and the vehicle through
which the novel indicts the war.
Not so with pornography. Its individual works have no special insights about
their characters or actions, because providing insight is not the purpose of por-
nography and that is not why it is viewed. Pornography is just sex. This is why
pornography’s message or point of view, if it has one at all, is bland.
Pornography’s not endorsing any deep message is not surprising because
were pornography to have a point of view toward its content, it would shoot
itself in the foot, because one of the main ways in which pornography works
is by presenting its viewers with images and scenes in a way that leaves room
for the audience’s imagination to roam. Any obvious meanings or points of
view about its content would direct the viewer in how to see the images and
understand them, limiting his imagination and thus making it sexually less
 Sexual Objectification 269
enjoyable. As Soble says, “[T]he variety of [pornographic] images provides
raw material from which individual consumers select their own point of focus
or construct their own story” (1996, 233). For works of art that have a perspec-
tive on the world to succeed, the artist has to structure her work in a way to
guide the viewer or reader to discern this point of view, a phenomenon not
usually found in pornography. Guiding the viewer, even in subtle ways, to
whatever point of view a work of pornography has undermines the viewer’s
ability to construct his own stories and fantasies. That is why camera work in
pornography does not usually try to frame the scenes in particular ways, giving
the viewer instead as many shots and angles as possible so that he can pick and
choose the scenes that arouse him the most.
For these reasons, pornography does not endorse any meanings about women
(or anything else for that matter). It does not offer the perspective that it is good
that women are degraded or that women’s pleasure should be for the sake of
men’s. It just tells us that their characters like to have sex and that sex is good.
Let us turn to the views of Ann Garry. Like Hill but unlike Longino, Garry
does not think that all pornography is degrading; only that “some pornographic
films convey the message that all women really want to be raped, that their
resisting struggle is not to be believed. By portraying women in this man-
ner, the content of the movie degrades women” (1984, 314). It is not clear in
this account what the degradation is (despite Garry’s claim that “to degrade
someone . . . is to lower her/his rank or status in humanity”; note 5, p. 323) or
how widespread it is in pornography. It is also unclear whether Garry believes
degradation is confined to such rape scenes or whether it includes other scenes.
If it is confined to such scenes, then there’s not much degradation in pornog-
raphy, given the rarity of such scenes. Let us set the above point aside for a
moment and turn to what is distinctive about Garry’s view, which has to do
with who is being degraded. Garry’s concern is not only with the women on
screen, but with all women. She claims that all women are degraded by por-
nography. Her argument takes three steps. First, degrading pornography sends
a message about all women: “If one sees these women as symbolic representa-
tives of all women, then all women fall from grace with these women” (1984,
316). Why should all women fall from grace? The answer is the second step in
the argument. If we assume, along with traditional, sexist views about women
and sex, that sex is dirty and that only bad women have sex and lots of it, then
we will associate the women in pornography with bad women. If we see them
as symbolic of all women, then we will associate all women with badness.
But why should we accept traditional assumptions about sex and women? The
answer is the third step in the argument. It is because “in our culture we con-
nect sex with harm that men do to women, and because we think of the female
role in sex as that of a harmed object, we can see that to treat a woman as a
sex object is automatically to treat her as less than fully human” (1984, 318).
To put the argument concisely: some works of pornography send the mes-
sage that women want to be raped, humiliated, and exist just to sexually please
men. Because sex is connected with “harm,” pornography fosters a climate of
270 Sex
disrespecting women by thinking of them as bad women. We will think of, and
continue to think of, women as fallen because we associate them with dirtiness,
sex, and badness. This outlook is degrading to women. Thus, pornography
degrades all women.14
We must ask a crucial question: Other than scenes in which women are
depicted as being raped, beaten, mutilated, and so on, which we can agree are
degrading to women but which are rare in pornography (I’m not sure that they
even exist), it is implausible that pornographic images are as such degrading to
women. This is because, as we have been discussing, there is nothing as such
degrading about a depiction of an orgy, or a woman having sex with three or
four men. If one were to believe that such scenes are degrading, it is likely that
one is bringing one’s own values and beliefs to the scene.
Consider three people, Pam, Peg, and Pat. Pam is a socially conservative
woman who is easily shocked and enraged by explicit sexual scenery. Peg is
not socially liberal but she is an anti-porn feminist. Pat is socially liberal and
a feminist but has no problems with pornography. They view the pornography
scene of Rita having sex with the two guys. Pam screams, “This is disgusting.
What a whore she is!” Peg says, “This is awful. That woman is being degraded,
if not also tortured. Who puts two penises in their mouth???” Pat says, “All I
see is sex—wild sex, yes, and sex that I am not particularly into, but they look
like they’re enjoying it!” Crucially, there is nothing in the scene itself to which
we can appeal to settle who is right. The point is that whether we see a sexual
scene as degrading or not might depend entirely on the viewer. While one sees
the sexual degradation of women, another sees women just having sex.
This point is relevant to Garry’s argument because for pornography to send
the message that women are degraded, the viewer must believe that the sexual
depictions are degrading to the women. If the viewer has no such beliefs, then
there will be no such message. In other words, pornography does not send mes-
sages because it has none. What one sees in pornography might reflect nothing
more than what one wants to see.15 Again, this is not to say that there is no
pornography that is degrading to women, but that it is a mistake to describe the
entire field of pornography in such ways.
In addition, and connected to the above point, there is no reason to believe,
as Garry seems to, that the women in pornography symbolize all women. It
is not plausible to attribute such an intention to the makers of pornography,
and the depictions themselves do not carry this meaning. To believe this is to
again bring one’s own values and beliefs to the genre. One can imagine an anti-
porn activist watching pornography and thinking, “This is slander. It makes
all women look bad.” But one can as easily imagine another viewer confining
himself to the woman on screen: “She is so hot. That guy she’s screwing is
damn lucky!” Garry then must rely on the idea that all or most viewers think
the same way about the relationship between women in pornography and all
the other women. But this is implausible. For one thing, it is a big assumption
to make. For another, who, other than seriously troubled male viewers would
make such an association? Men might be stupid, but they are not that stupid,
 Sexual Objectification 271
and they interact with women all the time outside the context of seeing them in
pornography. So to attribute to them the belief that women in pornography are
symbolic of all women is a tall order.
At this point, we should address two objections that aim to support the
above feminist views. First, given that we live in sexist societies, individuals’
thoughts and desires are at least partly constructed by sexist views of women.
Such views may play a crucial role in how viewers, especially men, look at
and “understand” pornography; they help shape what meanings viewers attri-
bute to pornographic imagery. Moreover, it is surely plausible that the cultural
meanings that circulate in society have some influence on how a viewer looks
at pornography. That women in almost all cultures are pervasively portrayed
as primarily objects of physical beauty might encourage some viewers to see
women in pornography as basically fit only for sexual pleasure (their own or
for the pleasure of the depicted men). To the extent that we still live with the
social meaning of sexually active women as harmed objects, as Garry states,
some male viewers might see the women in pornography in this way.
This does sound plausible. But the issue is the extent to which this happens.
And that is an empirical claim. Short of extensive studies of individual societ-
ies, the answer to the above question is not forthcoming. Moreover, there is the
issue of how mindless this objection renders men: are most of them so uncriti-
cal that they easily accept social sexist views about women? Although this also
is an empirical question, it is difficult to accept the idea, as I have mentioned,
that men’s views of women are shaped by only certain aspects of culture. The
messages that cultures send about women are not narrow, and individual men
need not accept them as narrow even if they were narrow.
The second objection is that because the heterosexual pornography industry
mostly caters to heterosexual men, it is plausible that it would depict its female
characters in degrading ways in order to make pornography arousing to these
men, so anti-porn feminist objections are quite reasonable. However, this rea-
soning assumes what it sets out to show. While it is true that the pornography
industry caters to men, we need to assume that men (or most of them) are
indeed sexually aroused only or mostly by depictions of women as degraded to
be convinced that the imagery of pornography intentionally depicts women in
a sexist light—the very conclusion that the objection aims to reach. Moreover,
the makers and producers of pornography need not make such an assumption
about male arousal. They need only assume that men are aroused by scenes
depicting sexual activity, and make as varied images and films as possible in
as diverse ways as possible to cater to men’s sexual imaginations, leaving it up
to the men to read the images in ways that arouse them. So the objection does
not succeed.
Before finishing with the feminist anti-pornography views, it is important
to note a troubling aspect about some of them. When Ann Garry, for example,
complains that pornography degrades all women, she bypasses what goes on in
pornography and relies on the fact that society connects sex with harm. What
matters to her is how viewers of pornography see women: “I may not think that
272 Sex
sex is dirty and that I would be a harmed object, I may not know what your
view is, but what bothers me is that this is the view embodied in our language
and culture” (1984, 318). If this view is indeed embodied in our language and
culture to the extent that Garry thinks it is, she is right to think it is bother-
some. It is not a good thing that society connects sex with filth. But this does
not mean we should indict pornography. Being a janitor is viewed by society
as lowly—a bothersome issue—but it is a mistake to infer that being a janitor
is itself degrading. In other words, philosophers like Garry infer from the fact
that (some) people view sex as degrading that sex is degrading because it keeps
that belief strong and alive. This is a troubling inference. No wonder, then, that
Soble levels the following accusation at anti-porn feminists: “Feminist critics
of pornography, in purporting to find degradation in its images, buy into—
uncritically accept—traditional social standards of what is sexually degrading
to the human person. How they read pornography is determined by dominant
social meanings, which they in effect endorse (as do the conservative critics
of pornography) instead of condemning or transcending” (Soble 2002, 195).
This point is worth emphasizing. If feminists and others who claim to not
be against sex itself find the image of a woman simultaneously fellating two or
three men degrading, why do they find it so? If women, like men, are sexual
beings, why are they, but not the men, described as degraded when they enjoy,
or are depicted as enjoying, sex with abandon? It is because we subscribe to
social views about women to the effect that good, proper women do not and
should not have this kind of sex. This view denies women their sexual agency
and sexual equality with men. We are more justified in criticizing archaic or
unfounded social meanings instead of pornography (and prostitution). Sex
work in general may be one of the few bastions of resistance to hegemonic,
traditional, conservative views. And what pornography depicts may be one
of the few areas in which men and women are shown as equal sexual beings.
Feminists and their allies should fight traditional views of sex, along with the
social inequality of men and women, instead of what pornography depicts.

Objectification in Pornography
I started the previous section with two cases involving Rodrigo and Rita. We
could not find genuine sexual degradation in them additional to the Kantian
type of degradation. This interestingly supports our conclusion that the fem-
inist claim that pornography degrades women does not succeed, because if
there is no degradation in the sexual act off-screen, why should there all of a
sudden be degradation on-screen? If the sex between Rita and the two guys is
not degrading, I see no reason that it becomes so if it is on-screen.16 Degrada-
tion and non-degradation in private should not change if the act is made public,
though being made to feel ashamed of it does (is this why Hill insists on per-
ception as a necessary condition for something to be degrading?).
Moreover, if there is no non-Kantian degradation in such actions, on- or
off-screen, there is also no non-Kantian objectification. Thus, and to connect
 Sexual Objectification 273
our conclusion to the issue of Kantian objectification and sexual desire raised
earlier in the chapter: (1) If one believes in Kantian or human dignity, and
one accepts the Kantian view of sexual desire, one should then believe that
pornography involves sexual objectification because it involves bypassing our
dignity in favor of our mere animality. But one should not believe that pornog-
raphy objectifies women (or men) in additional ways, unless one buys into the
idea that sex is shameful, unless particular scenes are objectifying, or unless
the objectification comes from nonsexual sources (e.g., crawling to get to a
room with horny men). (2) If one does not believe in Kantian or human dignity
but does accept the Kantian view of sexual desire, then one has reason not to
believe that pornography generally sexually objectifies people. Finally, (3) if
one does believe in Kantian or human dignity but does not accept the Kantian
view of sexual desire (this is the position that most feminist writers on pornog-
raphy occupy), then one also has reason not to believe that pornography gener-
ally objectifies its participants (we have seen that the reason given by feminist
writers fail to convince).
Because I occupy position (1), I should say briefly how objectification
occurs in pornography—specifically, who objectifies whom. Insofar as the
actors or participants desire each other, they objectify each other and allow
themselves to be objectified by others, specifically, by their co-participants in
the scene and by the viewers. Interestingly, whether male participants allow
themselves to be objectified by straight viewers depends on how the viewer’s
sexual desires and imagination work to derive sexual pleasure from consum-
ing pornography, a complicated subject into which I will not enter. But we can
claim that insofar as the viewer desires the actors or participants, the viewer
objectifies them also. He clearly does not allow himself to be objectified by
them because this is impossible. So pornography is rife with objectification.
Given this conclusion, is there any truth about pornography and the degrada-
tion of women? Yes: Women participants in pornography are sexually objecti-
fied by the straight male viewer (probably) much more than male participants
are sexually objectified by straight women viewers, and they are rarely sex-
ually objectified by gay female viewers than male participants are sexually
objectified by gay male viewers. In short, the way the world is set up—due to
culture, biology, or both—men exhibit much more sexual interest in viewing
pornography than women do. This might be the cause of the feminist worry
that women are especially sexually objectified in pornography—a true claim
but for reasons different from the ones offered by the above writers.
The above discussion was specifically about degradation in pornographic
depictions of sexual activity. It was not about how pornography actors or the
people in the sex scenes treat each other, are treated by others, and how they
get to work in the pornography industry. Nothing in the above discussion pre-
cludes the claim that many women are coerced into the industry or that they
are treated badly while on the set. And nothing in the above discussion says
anything about whether women are coerced into making “home-made” por-
nography. In short, nothing is about how pornography is made. I have reason to
274 Sex
suspect that such claims are exaggerated and that they run together the two dif-
ferent claims of consenting to be in pornography and desiring the enacted sex-
ual acts.17 That is, women performers might not desire a particular activity but
this does not mean that they did not consent to it. After all, many jobs are hard
to do and, like pornography, physically demanding—being a maid, a miner,
a construction worker, an athlete, a painter’s model, and even a painter—yet
the people who work them generally consent to them. Of course, sex work is
stigmatized, whereas being a miner is not (maybe not even being a maid or a
janitor), but that is the fault of society, not the sex work.18

Summary and Conclusion

I have focused in this chapter on Kantian objectification, which is based in
the objectifying nature of sexual desire. However, although sexually desiring
someone is sufficient for objectifying that someone, it is not necessary. Con-
sider again the example of the catcaller. Suppose that he actually does not
sexually desire the woman whom he catcalls (he might even be gay!), but he
catcalls her to be part of the group, to impress his friends with his macho prow-
ess, or for whatever reason guys do this kind of thing. Then he sexually objecti-
fies the woman without sexually desiring her. Or consider that when directors
of pornography are directing a scene, they need not be sexually attracted to the
women (or the men) in the scene; they are concerned with the sexual positions
and activity that the viewer will watch. They certainly sexually objectify the
actors but their objectification does not stem from their sexual desires.
Indeed, society in general sexually objectifies women by leaving them few
options in how to present themselves, one of which is as sexual beings, as the
philosopher Timo Jütten has recently nicely argued (2016). In this case, society
forces (in some sense of “forces” yet to be properly understood) some women
to objectify themselves by choosing to present themselves primarily as sexual
beings (perhaps they present themselves as derivatives to what they think men
want). The women are not objectifying themselves out of sexual desire but out
of the perception that they need to look and act “sexy” if they are to succeed.19
Thus, sexual objectification can stem from sources other than sexual desire.
Such sources result in objectification even though there might be not inten-
tion to objectify. Social structures that have the effect of objectifying women
do not intend to do so and cannot intend to do so insofar as social institutions
lack intentions. Indeed, intending to objectify someone is a rare phenomenon.
When we objectify someone from sexual desire, for example, we do not usu-
ally intend to; the objectification occurs given how sexual desire works. Not
even the catcaller need intend to objectify his victim. He instead intends to do
any number of ultimate actions (get the woman’s attention, show off in front
of his friends, express his admiration of the woman), but he does not usually
think, “I want to objectify her.” Thus, objectification is usually the result of
certain actions, attitudes, and set-ups, with multiple sources. Rarely is it a mat-
ter of intention.
 Sexual Objectification 275
We have seen that on a Kantian view of sexual desire, sexual objectification
is a pervasive phenomenon of our lives. However, depending on the specific
sexual activity, other factors might make tolerable the wrong of sexual objecti-
fication. Furthermore, we have seen that other than the objectification owing to
the working of sexual desire, there is no additional form of sexual objectifica-
tion operating in pornography. Whether the sexual objectification in pornogra-
phy is tolerable depends on a number of factors, however, including the effects
of pornography, an issue I have not addressed in this chapter.

Study Questions
1. Should a definition of “sexual objectification” include both treatment
and regard or only one of the two? Why? Provide one or two plausible
examples of someone sexually objectifying someone else through regard
and only regard. Are such examples easy to formulate? Does this tell us
anything one way or the other about whether a definition of “sexual objec-
tification” should include regard?
2. Give numerous examples of objectification involving various situa-
tions such as casual sex, pornography, prostitution, fantasy, and others.
Take each of these examples and run it through Nussbaum’s list of the
seven types of objectification to see which examples fit which forms. See
whether this tells you anything interesting or new about objectification.
3. Think through as carefully as possible Nussbaum’s account of objectifica-
tion. Can you argue convincingly in support of the idea that a respectful
relationship can make objectification permissible without implying that all
sex outside respectful relationships is objectifying? Perhaps you can think
about such relationships as sufficient, but not necessary, for permissible
objectification (though you still need to explain how).
4. Do we have a metaphysical property such as dignity, autonomy, and ratio-
nality, in virtue of which we should be treated with respect? And would
such treatment rule out sexual activity?
5. Is Kant correct that sexual desire is by nature objectifying in targeting the
body and body parts of another human being? Why or why not? Can you
offer a view of sexual desire that makes it benign?
6. Is Kant’s view of sexual desire as targeting the body and body parts of another
gendered? That is, is it more accurate of men’s sexual desires than of wom-
en’s? If yes, why? And what would this tell us about the truth of Kant’s view?
7. Can you improve on the views of Singer and Goldman (and of Shrage and
Stewart, in note 3) to find a plausible benign view of sexual desire? Might
Wood’s claim that in healthy human beings sexual desire is mixed with
other emotions be of help?
8. Is Soble correct that human beings are not dignified?
9. If sexual desire (and the activity stemming from it) is always objectifying,
can someone ever be temperate? Is temperance possible given this view of
sexual desire?
276 Sex
10. In my view, sexual objectification is a moral wrong, but one overcome
by other factors. Explain these factors and then explain what it means to
claim that they make objectification “tolerable.” Is this the same as mak-
ing it permissible? If yes, why? If no, what is the difference? Is it the same
as making objectification a good thing?
11. Can someone be sexually degraded but not sexually objectified? What
about the opposite—can someone be sexually objectified but not sexually
degraded? Would it make a difference to your answer if the question were
worded as follows: Can someone be degraded in a sexual encounter but
not sexually objectified? What about the opposite—can someone be sexu-
ally objectified but not degraded in a sexual encounter?
12. Is there a way (or ways) that (straight) pornography objectifies women
that we have not uncovered in this chapter? What ways are these? Make
sure that the characterizations you offer are general (apply to much por-
nography) and don’t rely on socially conservative views about sex.
13. How many forms of objectification have we uncovered in this chapter?
Try to make a list of them (e.g., the type stemming from sexual desire, the
type stemming from intention, and the type stemming from effect).
14. Consider a couple who have been together for a number of years such
that they have lost sexual desire for each other but continue to engage in
(infrequent) sexual activity with each other. Are they sexually objectifying
each other, not out of sexual desire but out of some other source? Or are
they not sexually objectifying each other at all?
15. Near the end of the chapter, I argued that pornography is “rife with objec-
tification.” Given that objectification (on my view at least) is a wrong but
a wrong that can be tolerated, is the objectification in pornography a toler-
able wrong? Why or why not?
16. I have claimed at the close of the chapter that sexual objectification has
sources other than sexual desire. Try to fully understand the sources I have
listed in my discussion of this point. Are there additional sources for sex-
ual objectification?

Further Reading
On Kant’s ethics, see also Kant (1996a); Baron (1995); Korsgaard (1996);
Louden (2000); and Wood (1999, 2008). On objectification, see also Eames
(1976); Haslanger (1993); Marino (2008); Moscovici (1996); Papadaki (2007,
2010, 2017); Quinn (2006a); and Wertheimer (1996). On Kant and sex, see
Belliotti (1993, ch. 4); Brake (2005, 2006); Cooke (1991); Herman (1993);
Morgan (2003b); and O’Neill (1989). On women and pornography, see Assiter
and Avedon (1993); Coleman and Held (2016); Copp and Wendell (1983);
Cornell (2000); Dworkin (1974, pt. II, 1987, 1989); Eaton (2016); Gruen
(2006); Kershnar (2007); Kimmel (1990); Langton (2009); Lederer (1980);
LeMoncheck (1985, 1997, ch. 4); MacKinnon (1987, pt. III); McElroy (1995);
Rubin (1993); Russell (1993); Segal and McIntosh (1993); Soble (1991); and
 Sexual Objectification 277
Strossen (1995). For more on MacKinnon’s views, see her (1993, 1997) and
MacKinnon and Dworkin (1997). For an elaborate defense of the views of
MacKinnon and Dworkin, see Mason-Grant (2004). On ethicism, see Carroll
(1996) and Gaut (1998). On endorsement in pornography and in art, see Brown
(2002).

Notes
1. Bartky also claims that the “female breeder” would be sexually objectified because
in this case a woman’s sexual functions (breeding) are “separated out” from the rest
of her personality by using the woman merely for breeding purposes.
2. This is a departure from the previous edition where I accepted and used a definition
of “sexual objectification” that included only treatment.
3. Thus, what some philosophers have written by way of understanding Kant is either
plain wrong or uncharitable. When Nussbaum, explaining Kant, writes, “In that
condition of mind, one cannot manage to see the other person as anything but a tool
of one’s own interests, a set of bodily parts that are useful tools for one’s own plea-
sure, and the powerful urge to secure one’s own sexual satisfaction will ensure that
instrumentalization (and therefore denial of autonomy and of subjectivity) continues
until the sexual act has reached its conclusion” (1999, 224, my emphases), she offers
a simplistic account of what goes on in the mind of the person with sexual desire, an
account that no Kantian need accept. Consider also what Laurie Shrage and Robert
Scott Stewart write about Kant’s view in their book Philosophizing about Sex:
“[S]exual acts involve inherently reducing another, even if only momentarily, to a
non-conscious, dehumanized thing, because I must use this person’s sexual body
parts—and unavoidably the person who inhabits them—as an object to satisfy my
desire” (2015, 6, my emphases). A charitable or correct reading of Kant would not
reduce his claim to the idea that in sex we desire a non-conscious being and we have
sex with the person-in-the-body only because we cannot avoid it, as if we would drop
the person in a heartbeat and settle for the detached (and limp?) penis if we could.
4. It might happen in other types of cases, too, such as solitary masturbation, and it is
worthwhile to think about what those might be.
5. Kant’s solution to the problem of objectification is that sex is permissible only within
the bounds of legal, monogamous marriage. This solution is riddled with problems
that I do not discuss. See Denis (1999, 2001) and Soble (2003, 2013b, 320–325).
6. Kant did lose his senses in other sexual passages in which he discusses masturba-
tion, same-sex sexual actions, and others, where he seems to simply assert bigoted
views about these sexual behaviors (1963, 169–171). But about sexual desire in
general he seems to be right.
7. It is unclear which she accepts, whether the objectification is permissible or whether
it is wonderful (on this point, see Soble 2013b, 315–319). Other philosophers agree
with Nussbaum that objectification is not always oppressive: “If sexual relations
involve some sexual objectification, then it becomes necessary to distinguish situ-
ations in which sexual objectification is oppressive from the sorts of situations in
which it is not. The identification of a person with her sexuality becomes oppressive,
one might venture, when such an identification becomes habitually extended into
every area of her experience” (Bartky 1990, 26). For a full treatment of Nussbaum’s
view, see Soble (2013b) and Halwani (2010, ch. 7).
278 Sex
8. Nussbaum believes that the third condition holds when it comes to Lady Chatterley,
an English aristocratic woman, and Mellors, the gamekeeper at her estate, in Law-
rence’s novel, Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Chatterley’s low status as a woman is offset
by her aristocratic high status, while Mellors’s low status as a gamekeeper is offset
by his high status as a man, thus making them roughly equals (1999, n39). But, as
Soble has convincingly argued, this “is glaringly insensitive to the psychological
dynamics between two particular persons, which cannot be read straight off from
their socioeconomic status and gender” (2002, 118).
9. According to Hill’s definition, no homosexual victim pornography can exist, even
though some homosexual pornography might satisfy both conditions; perhaps
Hill should have called the pornography she’s interested in “Heterosexual Victim
Pornography.”
10. The following discussion concerns only the depictions of the actions and the char-
acters on screen, so to speak, not the actors and what they might be feeling and
thinking. This is proper given that Hill’s criticism of pornography is confined to
such depictions.
11. Another degrading type of scene is when the woman has to crawl through a house,
up the stairs to a bedroom, where one or more men are waiting to have sex with her.
The degradation of such scenes, however, might derive from their nonsexual nature,
as discussed above.
12. The endorsement claim is very similar to Hill’s claim that pornography provides no
suggestion that women should not be treated as less than equals. This lack of sugges-
tion might be what it means for a work of sexually explicit degradation to endorse or
shun its representative content (Longino states something similar; 1991, 86).
13. Eaton is unclear on how gender inequity is represented in pornography. She also
doesn’t elaborate the idea of endorsement. In fairness, her essay is really about how
to make sense of the idea that pornography causes harm to the viewers and to other
parties.
14. Hill says something similar to both Garry and Longino: “The pornography industry
regularly publishes material which, speaking conservatively, tends to contribute to
the perpetuation of derogatory beliefs about womankind . . . we might say that it
offers a perspective on the actual nature of womankind. The perspective offered by
Victim Pornography is that, in general, women are narcissistic, masochistic, and not
fully persons in the moral sense” (Hill 1991, 69).
15. This is what Soble calls the “Polyscemicity Thesis,” the thesis that pornographic
images do not have intrinsic meanings. See Soble 2002, esp. 19–20, 28, 98.
16. Compare to Soble: “It is permissible to make an image of a sexual act if and only if
it is permissible to do that act, or it is wrong to make an image of a sexual act if and
only if it is wrong to do that act” (2002, 174).
17. The website kink.com is interesting in this respect: it contains videos of non-
mainstream pornography often associated with degradation (e.g., sex in public, sex
involving bondage and submission), and interviews with the women actors to allay
worries about coercion, forced sex, and other concerns.
18. See the interview with Nina Hartley in Hartley and Held (2016).
19. Recently, the philosopher Ann Cahill has argued that we should replace “objectifica-
tion” with that of “derivatization” on the grounds that the former concept relies on
a mistaken view of what human beings are, which is that we are autonomous and
non-bodily, whereas the latter concept does not. According to Cahill, “To derivatize
something is to portray, render, understand, or approach a being solely or primarily
 Sexual Objectification 279
as the reflection, projection, or expression of another being’s identity, desires, fears,
and so on. The derivatized subject becomes reducible in all relevant ways to the
derivatizing subject’s existence” (2011, 32; see also 2013). Cahill believes that this
concept more accurately explains what is wrong with the situations we thought were
wrong due to objectification, especially since “derivatization” is based on a rela-
tional view of human beings. So, for example, the problem with pornography is not
so much the objectification of women as it is the depiction of women’s sexuality as
the reflection of men’s desires for what women’s sexuality is.
This view, interesting as it is, saddles the concept of “objectification” with a view
of persons or human beings (that they are non-bodily and autonomous) that it should
not, and need not, be saddled with. Once we see that “objectification” need not rely
on such a view of human beings, and that it can see them as bodily as they are,
and as enmeshed in this world as they are (with varying degrees of autonomy), we
also see that treating someone as an object might amount to the same thing as what
Cahill means by “derivatization.” That is, my worry is that “derivatization” just
means “objectification, properly understood.” This remains to be fully investigated,
however, and it might be that “derivatization” refers to phenomena not captured by
“objectification.”