The	Aesthetics	and	Ethics	of	Sexiness Hans	Maes ** Published in Aesthetics: A Reader in the Philosophy of the Arts, eds. L. Brown, D. Goldblatt, S. Patridge,	Routledge,	pp.	475-79.	A	longer	version	of	this	paper	appeared	as	"Falling	in	Lust:	Sexiness, Feminism,	and	Pornography"	in	M.	Mikkola,	Beyond	Speech,	Oxford:	Oxford	University	Press,	2017. ** In	a	recent	paper	Sheila	Lintott	and	Sherri	Irvin	(2017)	present	a	feminist	critique	of sexiness and point to two problems in particular. The first is that women are considered	sexy	in	accordance	with	an	externally	dictated	conception	of	sexiness.	If a	woman	wishes to	be	sexy	she	will	need to	conform to the	standards laid	out	by men.	The	second	problem	is	that	women	are	considered	sexy	in	accordance	with	an unduly	narrow	conception	of	sexiness,	one	that	focuses	predominantly	on	the	body and	thus	equates	sexiness	with	objecthood.	As	a	result,	large	portions	of	the	female population are excluded from being considered sexy. This is especially felt by elderly	and	disabled	women	who	systematically	fall	short	of	the	current	standards of	sexiness. Giving	up	on	sexiness	altogether	is	not	an	option,	however.	According	to	L&I, that	would	mean	giving	up	on	a	basic	element	of	selfhood.	Instead,	they	suggest	that we	redefine	sexiness	in	such	a	way	that	it	makes	room	for	women,	and	men,	as	sexy subjects	rather	than	as	mere	sex	objects.	A	person	is	appropriately	called	sexy,	they propose,	if	that	person	has	a	magnificent	body	infused	with	sexual	subjectivity.	L&I use the term 'magnificence' to refer to the 'nowhere-else-but-here-ness' of a	body that	we	can	learn	to	admire.	Admittedly,	this	remains	rather	vague.	But	the	purpose of introducing the term is clear: they want us to resist imposing pre-existing standards	on	bodies	and instead	to take	bodies	on	their	own	terms	– thus	making possible the aesthetic appreciation of the sexual particularity of a	wide variety of body	types.	But	this	is	only	half	the	story.	The	second	thing	we	should	do	is	ensure that our judgments of sexiness take into account not just bodies, but embodied subjects. The proper target of such a judgment is always a body infused with an 2 authentic	sexual	expression,	that	is,	a	sexual	expression	that	really	comes	from	the person	herself	rather	than	originating	in	or	aiming	at	some	external	ideal.	Evidence of	such	authenticity	will	be	found	in	the	person's	confidence,	comfort,	and	sense	of improvisation,	whereas	discomfort, insecurity, and	a strict adherence to	norms	as rules	will	indicate	a	lack	of	genuineness	in	sexual	expression. So,	instead	of	thinking	that	a	woman	is	sexy	if	men	experience	her	as	sexually attractive,	it	should	be	the	other	way	around:	if	a	woman	is	sexy	(because	she	has	a magnificent body infused with sexual subjectivity), then men should try to experience	her	as	sexually	attractive.	With	the	revised	notion	of	sexiness	comes	an "ethical	imperative"	to	make	our	desires	match	our	judgments	–	something	we	can help bring about through	what L&I call an "aesthetic practice." For sexiness is an aesthetic property and just as we can and should always seek to broaden our aesthetic horizons,	we can and should	broaden the	horizons	of	what and	who	we find	sexy,	primarily	by	increasing	exposure	to	a	diversity	of	bodies	and	decreasing exposure to "perfect" sex symbols. The result of this, L&I argue, will be that the twofold problem disappears. Women will no longer be considered sexy in accordance	with	an	externally	dictated	or	unduly	narrow	conception	of	sexiness. L&I's	diagnosis	raises	questions.	Take	the	claim	that	women	are	considered sexy	in	accordance	with	an	externally	dictated	conception	of	sexiness.	Does	this	only affect	women?	Isn't it	the	case	that	a	man's	desire	to	be	sexy	is	ultimately	a	desire for qualities that women find attractive and hence should we not say that it is mostly	women	who	determine	what	counts	as	sexy	for	a	man?	If	so,	then	we	are	no longer	to	treat	this	a	purely	feminist	concern.	Of	course,	it	could	be	thought	that	the real	problem lies	with the	sort	of	qualities that	men find	sexually	attractive,	which brings us to the second part of L&I's diagnosis. According to L&I, women are considered	sexy	in	accordance	with	an	all	too	narrow	conception	of	sexiness.	If	you don't	have	long	legs,	glossy	hair,	smooth	skin,	full	lips,	firm	breasts	you	do	not	count as	sexy.	Now,	while	it is	easy	to	find	some	confirmation	of	this	thesis	– just	google "sexy	women"	and	see	which	images	come	up	–	one	may	query	again	whether	this	is an	exclusively	feminist	issue.	What	happens	if	one	does	an	Internet	search	for	"sexy men"?	Going	by	the	pictures	that	Google	brings	up,	an	equally	narrow	ideal	of	male 3 sexiness emerges.	A reply could	be that	women	are able to find	men sexy even if they	don't	have	a	stereotypically	sexy	body.	This	is	true.	But	then	again,	men	might say the same thing. Men do not reserve their sexual interest for those few supermodels who have a body like Elle -The Body – Macpherson. The much maligned	male	gaze	tends	to	be	far	more	indiscriminate. A	distinction	that	is	largely	ignored	by	L&I	is	that	between	'appearing	sexy	to someone'	and 'being	generally	considered	sexy'	(or, from	the	viewer's	perspective, between 'finding	someone	sexy'	and 'judging	someone	to	be	sexy').	You	may	know that someone is generally regarded as sexy and yet you may not find her sexy yourself. Conversely, you may find someone very sexy and at the same time acknowledge	that	they	are	not	generally	considered	sexy.	Now, L&I's	revised	notion of	sexiness	will	make	it	possible	for,	say,	elderly	and	disabled	women	to	be	generally regarded	as	sexy. However,	being	so	regarded	is	arguably	not	the	main	concern	of these	specific	groups.	After	all,	most	of	us	are	not	generally	considered	sexy	in	the way	that	Angelina	Jolie	or	Scarlett	Johansson	are	and	most	of	us	are	not	inclined	to see	this	as	a	grave	injustice.	The	real	issue	for	elderly	and	disabled	women,	and	the reason	why	they	may	feel	marginalized	compared	to	not	just	A-list	actresses	but	to the	average	woman	in	the	street,	is	(a)	that	their	sexuality	is	all	too	often	ignored,	i.e. they	are	not	perceived	as	people	with	sexual	needs	and	desires	and	with	a sexual identity that deserves respect and acknowledgement, and (b) that they will less frequently appear sexy to people they encounter (which is different from being generally	considered	sexy).	Although	this	is	linked	to	the	fact	that	their	sexuality	is often	ignored	to	begin	with,	it	constitutes	a	separate	wrong.	For	here	the	issue	is	not so much that a crucial aspect of selfhood is denied, but rather that they are systematically	missing	out	on	a	valuable	experience,	namely	the	experience	of	being wanted or being the target of someone's sexual interest. And in so far as finding someone sexy is regarded as prelude to, and for some even a prerequisite for, a romantic	relationship,	they	run	an	increased	risk	of	losing	out	on	another	valuable good,	romantic	love. All this is	of	course	also	true	for	elderly	and	disabled	men.	So,	what	are	the problems	that	women	in	particular face?	These	are	best	revealed	when	we	ask	two 4 further	questions.	First,	how	to	appear	sexy in	present-day	society if	one	does	not have a stereotypically sexy body? The answer will differ greatly depending on whether you are a man or a woman. Personality traits like assertiveness, selfassurance, authority, independence, boldness, and ambition are often cited as contributing to a	man's sex-appeal, whereas this is less so for	women. The same behavior	that	makes	a	man	seem	persuasive,	ambitious,	self-assured,	in	a	woman	is often seen as pushy, selfish, bossy and so as not particularly attractive. Besides personality traits there	are (what	Aristotle called) 'external	goods', such	as	power and	wealth,	which	may	help to	make	a	man	sexy.	Again, this seems less	often	and less decisive a contributing factor for	women. Physical prowess and	dexterity are also	markers	of	sexiness	for	men,	but	not	necessarily	for	women	(women	who	run or throw a ball in clumsy way – 'like a girl' -are frequently perceived as cute because	of	it).	These	differences	between	men	and	women	are	far	from	innocuous. The traits and properties listed above are all associated with specific heteronormative	gender	roles	in	a	society	that	still	bears	the	marks	of	a	long	history of gender inequality. Men used to occupy almost all positions of power and authority,	whereas	women	were	excluded	from	those	positions.	Men	were	active	in the	world,	while	women	were	tied	to	the	home	and	dependent	in	a	myriad	of	ways on	their	husbands	or	male	family	members.	To	accept	and	promote	these	traits	and properties as	markers of sexiness is an effective	mechanism for entrenching this gender	inequality	(see	Eaton,	'A	Sensible	Anti-Porn	Feminism'). Second,	how	important	is	it	to	appear	sexy?	Even	in	modern	and	'enlightened' Western	societies,	women	are	socialized	to	believe	that	sexiness	is	essential	to	their value as persons. This is probably the	most objectionable difference between the genders.	And	here I take a view that is diametrically opposed to that of L&I. L&I basically	agree	that	sexiness	is	essential	to	someone's	value	as	a	person.	That	is	why they suggest a revised notion according to which everyone could in principle be considered sexy. By contrast, I would want to emphasize that sexiness is not essential	to	a	woman's	value	as	a	person,	just	as	it	is	not	essential	to	a	man's	value. Granted,	it	can	be	valuable	and	desirable	to	at	least	appear	sexy	to	some	people	on 5 some occasions. But this does not	mean that sexiness as such should be seen as indispensible	for	one's	self-esteem	or	the	esteem	of	others. So	what	is	to	be	done?	For	L&I,	considering	someone	sexy	should	be	a	matter of making the correct judgment: you ask yourself whether the person under consideration	has	a	magnificent	body	infused	with	sexual	subjectivity	and	this	then is followed by an ethical imperative: you have to	make your feelings and desires match	your judgment.	So, in	suggesting	a	way forward	L&I	mainly	place	emphasis on the individual responsibility that every one of us has in making a correct assessment	and	doing	the	right	thing.	One	can,	however,	have	serious	doubts	about the	feasibility	of	such	a	proposal.	Feelings	of	sexual	attraction	often	go	against	our better judgment	and	are	very	hard to	steer	or	control.	We typically	do	not	choose who	we	fall	in	or	out	of	lust	with.	Biology	plays	an	important	part	in	this,	naturally, but	is	by	no	means	the	only	factor	in	play.	One's	upbringing	and	education,	as	well	as the	images	and	stories	one	is	confronted	with	on	a	daily	basis,	in	advertising,	in	the media,	in	the	arts,	in	the	many	forms	of	entertainment:	all	of	this	has	a	tremendous influence. It is these culturally specific and ultimately changeable processes of socialization that I think should be the main focus of any attempt to address contemporary	issues	with	sexiness. While	there	is	not	enough	scope	to	investigate	these	factors	in	detail	here,	I do	want	to	briefly	discuss	one	area	of	representation	that	has	had	a	huge	impact	on what and who we find sexy: pornography. By eroticizing certain actions, bodily features, personality traits, pornography not only reflects but also helps to shape what	and	who	we	find	sexy.	If	that	is	so,	it	is	reasonable	to	assume	that	pornography is	partly	responsible	for	what	has	gone	wrong	with	the	standards	of	sexiness	in	our society.	But	it	also	follows	that	pornography,	given	its	potential	impact	on	our	sexual likes	and	dislikes,	can	become	part	of	the	solution.	And	here	I'm	thinking	specifically of	what	I	call	'radical	egalitarian	pornography,'	i.e.	pornography	that	is	premised	on the full equality between sexual partners, that does not eroticize any acts of violence, humiliation, or objectification, that	militates against the perpetuation of harmful	stereotypes	and	complicates	dominant	representations	of	gender,	sexuality, ethnicity,	class,	disability,	age,	body	type,	in	such	a	way	that	exposure	to	this	kind	of 6 pornography	will	no longer	have	a	detrimental impact	on	our responses	of sexual attraction	but, on the contrary,	might	help to	bring them in line	with	our ideas	of (gender) equality. Recent examples include Phone Fuck (Ingrid Ryberg, 2009), Gingers	(Antonio	Da	Silva,	2013),	and	When	We	Are	Together	We	Can	Be	Everywhere (Marit	Östberg,	2015). I	see	two	natural	allies	of this	type	radical	egalitarian	pornography:	art	and the Internet. Firstly, some	anti-porn feminists consider the Internet a great threat because	it	has	made	the	production,	distribution,	and	consumption	of	pornography so much easier, which has opened the door to the deplorable 'pornification' of culture	and	of	sex.	Yet, if	you	take into	account the	great	variety	of	pornographies out	there	and	in	particular	the	positively	subversive	potential	of	radical	egalitarian pornography	it	becomes	clear	that	this	is	a	one-sided	view.	Take	the	group	of	people that L&I have rightly drawn attention to as being	marginalized	under the current sexiness regime: disabled and elderly people.	While their sexuality is still all too often ignored in the everyday world this is not the case in the world of (radical egalitarian)	pornography.	There	is	porn	made	by	and	featuring	elderly	and	disabled men and women and thanks to Internet (and internet communities) this is now easily	and	globally	accessible.	Another	problem	they	face	in	contemporary	society	is that	they	will	less	frequently	appear	sexy	to	other	people	–	no	doubt	due	in	part	to the fact that they rarely feature as sex symbols in the	mainstream	media. Again, radical	egalitarian	internet	pornography	can	help	to	counterbalance	this. Secondly, art.	More often than not, pornography and art are thought of as fundamentally incompatible. If the latter tries to educate our taste, mainstream pornography	merely	panders	to	people's	tastes.	Hence	its	formulaic	and	conformist character: story lines and role plays that have proven effective are repeated over and	over	again, sex	always	proceeds	along the same	well-trodden	path (from	oral sex	to	various	forms	of	penetration	culminating	in	the	obligatory	'money	shot'),	any real	deviation	from	the	heterosexual	norm	is	taboo	lest	it	might	be	offensive	to	some consumers' tastes. However, things are different with radical egalitarian pornography.	Because	works	of	this	kind	set	out	to	challenge	the	existing	sexiness regime	and	its	underlying	prejudices,	and	because	their	aim	is	precisely	to	expand 7 and	educate	viewers' sexual tastes, they	are	compelled to	seek	out innovative	and thought-provoking	ways	of representing (the	role	of	gender, race,	ethnicity, class, disability,	age,	body	type	in)	sex	and	sexiness.	A	case	in	point	is	Skin.Like.Sun	(2010; Jennifer	Lyon	Bell	and	Murielle	Scherre),	a	stylish	pornographic	documentary	about a	real-life	couple	filmed	in	real-time	so	as	to	convey	the	unscripted	progression	of	a genuine	sexual	encounter.	Or	One	Night	Stand	(2006;	Emilie	Jouvet),	a	collection	of five vignettes exploring a variety of sex acts, body types, gender expressions in a dark	underground lesbian	and	queer club, filmed in situ	with	a	hand	held camera and	with	a	raw	DIY	punk	aesthetic	as	a	result. It is	their	radical	egalitarian	agenda that	motivated	these	film	makers	to	experiment	with	both	content	and	form	in	such a	way	that	their	creations	have	at	least	as	much	in	common	with	art	films	than	with mainstream commercial porn films. And	while they	may not be able to compete with	the latter in	production	value, they	far	exceed	their	mainstream	counterparts in cognitive value, originality, and general artistic quality. This easy confluence of radical egalitarian and artistic ambitions is only to be encouraged. For one thing, achieving	art	status	would	grant	these	films	prestige	and	a	special	sort	of	authority that	would help to undermine the influence and authority that inegalitarian porn still has in matters of sex. Moreover, it will help to pave the way for an open discussion	of	such	works	in	the	public	domain	and	for	a	proper	art	critical	analysis of	this	specific	genre.	The	fact	that	there	is	no	public	porn	criticism	–	in	the	way	that there	is	film	criticism	or	art	criticism	–	is	no	doubt	one	of	the	reasons	why	prejudice and	misinformation	can	so	easily	spread	and	thrive	here.