Over two decades ago, anthropologist Gayle Rubin began a now-classic article with a deceptively simple declaration: “The time has come to think about sex” (Reference Rubin, Abelove, Barale and Halperin1984). Although Rubin was not the first thinker to place sex at the center of her work, her systematic sketch of Western sexual ideology made it possible to think about the political ramifications of sex in new and productive ways by disentangling the physical acts of sex from gender and sexuality (i.e., how we understand, interpret, and ascribe meaning to those acts). Among her many useful insights was the recognition that sex and sexuality are part of a hierarchical value system that serves as the basis for other forms of social, economic, and political power. Sex is the starting point of all human life and, consequently, sexuality subtends all other institutions from marriage to families, communities, states, and international organizations. What Foucault (Reference Foucault1978) called biopower—the regulation of bodies, including sex—has continued to change and expand, giving rise to new forms of biopolitics—the regulation of populations and sexuality. Such regulations include moral policing and criminal sanctions, biomedical intervention, family and immigration laws, and a host of other tools that have tended to establish heterosexuality as the only normal and sanctioned sexual behavior. Regulating sex, and particularly reproduction, is an essential objective of the state because, ultimately, sex and reproduction are key to how the state regulates the fundamental element of its own composition: citizenship.
In the years since Rubin wrote “Thinking Sex,” scholars from many academic disciplines have attempted to understand the ways that sex and all that it encompasses—bodies, genders, reproduction, race, ethnicity, and sexuality—shapes and is shaped by the world in which we live. This article aspires to do three things. Part I argues that political science historically has been a heterosexual discipline in the same way that people are assumed to be heterosexual unless and until they “come out:” by default. Such assumptions reflect general cultural expectations about sex that coincide with much of the discipline's existence; heterosexual political science is a product of the heterosexual culture within which it took root. (It should also be noted that, like all other institutions of power and governance, the discipline was overwhelmingly male and white until women and people of color began insisting otherwise.) Stated another way, until scholars like Dennis Altman, Robert Bailey, Rosalind Petchesky, and Kenneth Sherrill began to highlight sexuality as an important target of state interest and regulation, the heterosexual nature of important legal and policy questions often went unnoticed. The results of this oversight allowed flawed and damaging assumptions about how sexuality operates to remain in place; erroneous beliefs went unquestioned and had a profound effect on law, politics, and policymaking. Part II considers how the study of sexuality has become increasingly important to political scientists who work from a transnational perspective and suggests several ways that sexuality might be incorporated into projects that extend beyond U.S. borders. The conclusion of the article asserts that although the advent of LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) political science is an improvement, the concept is useless if it teaches only about gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender individuals. This focus on sexual minorities—which Sedgwick (Reference Sedgwick1990) called the “minoritizing view”—opened up important new avenues of thought and allowed scholars to perceive how little real difference exists between LGBT people and heterosexual people, and between their lives. As long as sexual minorities remain the central object of inquiry to scholars of sexual politics, the minoritizing view will persist, perceptions of difference will be magnified and reinforced, the dominant sexual value system will remain unchallenged, and little political progress will be possible.
PART I: POLITICAL SCIENCE AND SEXUALITY
Pioneering work by Richard von Krafft-Ebing and Magnus Hirschfeld in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and the brave political activism of groups such as the Daughters of Bilitis and the Mattachine Society in the 1950s helped pave the way for the gay rights movement we know today. But the more influential voices in the study of sexuality were those of Sigmund Freud and Alfred Kinsey—scholars whose work was framed by a heterosexual norm and its gendered implications. Freud devoted considerable attention to a problem suffered by women of his era: hysteria. As Rachel Maines (Reference Maines1999) documents, treatment of hysteria was thought to require “bringing the fluids down” and releasing tension built up in the uterus. Techniques devised for treating the problem included pelvic massage (i.e., being masturbated by male doctors), a practice that was considered too labor-intensive to be conducted single-handedly. Consequently, doctors in the early twentieth century invented devices that could do the job for them and, in some instances, constructed elaborate mechanisms that could “treat” several women at once in operating theaters, thus increasing both efficiency and profit. Doctors reported, with no small degree of surprise, the coarse language women used during treatment, their vocalizations, and their apparent paroxysms. Most also trumpeted the success of such treatments, citing women's statements that they felt much better afterward. That such treatments were perhaps sexual was overlooked. What is instructive about Maines's work is what it reveals about the gap between our understanding of bodies, gender, and sexuality. Freud's theories of sexuality were part of a heterosexual trend that continues to this day, one that pathologizes women's bodies, denies women's capacity for sexuality and sexual agency, and allocates sexual health and freedom to men.
A similar lesson can be found in the public's response to Alfred Kinsey's research. When Kinsey published Sexual Behavior in the Human Male in 1948, his findings attracted considerable media attention largely because the data he reported showed that men have sex younger, outside marriage, more often, and under a wider variety of circumstances—alone, with other men, with prostitutes, and with animals—than anyone had previously documented. His findings were received by the public as titillating and landed him on the cover of Life magazine largely, it seems, because he confirmed what half the population already knew. Moreover, even in the sexually repressive climate of the time, his research on and publication of information about male sexual behavior was socially accepted. Such was not the case when he published Sexual Behavior in the Human Female in 1953. That book, which related similar findings about the sexuality of women, was considered shocking by many readers and ultimately foreshadowed the decline and demise of his career as a sex researcher. It was in this same cultural climate that political science germinated and began to flourish.
If there is one lesson we should take from this brief history of sexuality it is this: things are seldom as they are imagined, but scholarship is much more popular when empiricism resonates with the belief systems that uphold a heterosexual norm and all the gendered assumptions that this implies. We have learned a lot in the years since Freud and Kinsey. We have known for some time that genders are not fixed, biological, pre-discursive realities, but are instead memes rendered meaningful through practice (Butler Reference Butler1990; Butler Reference Butler2004; Fausto-Sterling Reference Fausto-Sterling2000; Currah, Juang, and Minter Reference Currah, Juang and Minter2006). We have also recognized the multiplicity of meanings otherwise associated with the body: healthy, ill, or obese; damaged, repaired, or surgically altered; whole or broken down into constitutive parts; genetic, fetal, or pregnant (Hyde Reference Hyde1997; Kirkland Reference Kirkland2008; Moore Reference Moore2008; Pitts-Taylor Reference Pitts-Taylor2003; Pitts-Taylor Reference Pitts-Taylor2007; Pitts-Taylor Reference Pitts-Taylor2008). So, too, we have become aware that sexuality is not merely a static set of behaviors intended only for reproduction (a cultural trend perhaps traceable to Darwin), but is instead a culturally and historically variable system of knowledge through which acts are infused with potent social, cultural, and political meaning (Abelove, Barale, and Halperin Reference Abelove, Barale and Halperin1993; D'Emilio and Freedman Reference D'Emilio and Freedman1998; Foucault Reference Foucault1978; Parker, Barbosa, and Aggleton Reference Parker, Barbosa and Aggleton2000; Parker, Petchesky, and Sember Reference Parker, Petchesky and Sember2007; Sedgwick Reference Sedgwick1990; Warner Reference Warner1993; Warner Reference Warner1999). That sexuality and race or ethnicity are linked is no longer merely a reproductive truism; how we understand either term is intimately bound up with the other (e.g., see Cohen Reference Cohen1999; Rollins Reference Rollins2009).
As D'Emilio and Freedman (Reference D'Emilio and Freedman1998) observed in their study of American history, sexual regulation intensifies when other social, political, and economic structures are in crisis. History is rife with episodes of sexual regulation in response to political crises, real or imagined, as demonstrated by such legal and policy debates as divorce reform, anti-miscegenation laws, child custody, abortion, welfare reform, and health care. The language of debates about gays in the military sounds remarkably familiar when juxtaposed with that of debates about blacks and whites serving together in the U.S. military (Wolinsky and Sherrill Reference Wolinsky and Sherrill1993). Today's arguments about same-sex marriage echo those made during Reconstruction as states considered whether or not newly freed slaves should be allowed to marry—not whites, but one another—and what the extension of that right might mean about the value of the institution itself (Cott Reference Cott2002). The study of issues that have pressing importance for the gay and lesbian community is incomplete, however, if we overlook the central role that sex and sexuality play in everyone's political life, because, at a very basic level, these questions all return to the issue of the ways in which the state regulates the reproductive intermingling of bodies. To borrow from Carole Pateman (Reference Pateman1988), the relationships that lie at the center of all of these issues are grounded in a sexual contract and, until recently, that contract was exclusively heterosexual. This situation, however, is changing.
Conflicts over sexual regulation have continued into the twenty-first century, but considerable progress has been made. Although sexuality remains contentious, gay and lesbian people are now able to marry in some states and may become parents in most others. Whether LGBT people may openly serve in the military remains legally uncertain, but support for integration is now stronger than ever. In many parts of the United States and around the world, gays and lesbians enjoy something close to social and political equality with heterosexuals. As the media's coverage of Mark Foley, Ted Haggard, George Rekers, Larry Craig, and Roy Ashburn indicates, the gay-straight distinction is losing its cultural potency. Although it is always entertaining to see conservative, anti-gay men caught with their pants down in the company of other men in chatrooms and airport bathrooms, or while on vacation with male prostitutes, homosexuality per se is no longer the titillating part of the story: hypocrisy is, and neither gays nor straights have a monopoly on that. It may not be too much of an exaggeration to claim that homosexuality is becoming banal, leading to the question: what form of sexual transgression will now take its place?
Another of Rubin's astute insights was her observation that some sexual acts are perceived as occupying a “charmed inner circle” while others are relegated to the realm of the horrible (Reference Rubin, Abelove, Barale and Halperin1984). In much the same way that speech about the rape of women was silenced until feminist scholars drew attention to the problem, the sexual abuse of children went largely unnoticed until that same generation of feminists gave voice to those who could not speak for themselves. (The rape of men remains a taboo subject and is falsely imagined to exist only in prisons.) But, as Adler (Reference Adler2001a; Reference Adler2001b) shows, child pornography did not even become a distinct target of legal prohibition until the 1980s. In the years since, pedophiles and child pornographers have begun to replace homosexuals as the primary targets of sexual censure, as evinced by the popularity of television shows like To Catch a Predator and websites like “Perverted Justice,” not to mention government-run sites that allow parents to locate and identify people in their neighborhood who have been convicted of sex crimes. At present, the political discourse surrounding child sexuality is so shrill that it has become almost impossible to engage in reasonable discussion about the subject (Casper and Moore Reference Casper and Moore2009). Minors engaged in “sexting”—the practice of taking and sending nude or pornographic images over the Internet or with cellular phones—are being prosecuted for possession and distribution of child pornography, a matter that is now being debated in several state legislatures. Inasmuch as the sexual abuse of children is a very real problem, the current state of hysteria too frequently distracts us from the fact that most child abuse is committed in the home by parents or other relatives. This “stranger danger” narrative eclipses more well-reasoned approaches to the problem and has instead made the Internet and technology central targets of state regulation (Angelides Reference Angelides2004; Wolak, Finkelhor, and Mitchell Reference Wolak, Finkelhor and Mitchell2004). The point is not to suggest that in some freakishly imagined future, pedophiles should march on Washington to claim rights and recognition. Instead, this observation should illustrate that a heinous, non-consensual form of sexual abuse escaped notice for a very long time while homosexuality, consensual and adult, reigned as the primary target of censure. Problems such as sexting, teenage pregnancy, sex education policy, and sexual health in general require us to be capable of sustaining reasoned, frank, and informed discussions about not only sex, but also bodies and the processes of physical maturation. Lest we forget that age and sexuality remain important issues as we near the end of life, it merits mention that with the exploding market of drugs to treat erectile dysfunction, the elderly are becoming infected with HIV and other STDs at alarming rates. The ways that these and other related policy issues are studied by political scientists would be greatly enriched by increased attention to the vast and growing body of scholarship committed to sexuality.
Part II: Transnational Sexuality
Hampered by the belief that sex operates around the world in the same way that it does in Western cultures, some scholars overlook the fact that sex and sexuality assume different meanings, evoke different sets of expectations, and mandate different types of behaviors in other places. Recognizing the existence of difference, scholars have begun to think about the regulation of sexuality in other parts of the globe (see Nathanson, Sember, and Parker Reference Nathanson, Sember, Parker, Parker, Petchesky and Sember2007; Corrêa, Petchesky, and Parker Reference Corrêa, Petchesky and Parker2008). Echoing D'Emilio and Freedman's (Reference D'Emilio and Freedman1998) observations about American history, we can see that periods of heightened sexual regulation emerge in tandem with other forms of political change, such as when governments teeter between dictatorship and democracy, when secular and religious forms of social control vie for ascendancy, when economies balance between prosperity and collapse, or when societies are torn by armed ethnic conflict. Consequently, students of international relations, comparative politics, political development, and international political economy can sharpen their analytic foci by attending to variations in sexual cultures.
Widespread variations in sexual practices and the meanings associated with them have been identified as the study of sex has grown farther beyond its Western origins (Lancaster Reference Lancaster1988; Leap and Boellstorff Reference Leap and Boellstorff2004; Luibhéid and Cantú Reference Luibhéid and Cantú2005; Najmabadi Reference Najmabadi2005; Parker Reference Parker1999; Patton and Sánchez-Eppler Reference Patton and Sánchez-Eppler2000). The proliferation of such knowledge brings to light new problems and questions associated with the global regulation of sex (Grewal and Kaplan Reference Grewal and Kaplan2001; Katyal Reference Katyal2002). The influence of tourism, the Internet, and transnational NGOs on local sexual meanings may be ambiguous at best, or may encounter and sometimes disrupt very different and more variable indigenous practices, discourses, and cultures (Blackwood Reference Blackwood2008; Jackson Reference Jackson2009; Zaidan Reference Zaidan2010). Similarly, the work of transnational institutions such as the United Nations and the World Bank is often hampered by their assumption of sexual or gender universals and their inability to translate among diverse sexual cultures and ideologies (Bedford Reference Bedford2009; Girard Reference Girard, Parker, Petchesky and Sember2007; Camargo and Mattos Reference Camargo and Mattos2008). Indeed, as the events at Abu Ghraib remind us, sex even provides an interpretive framework for how we understand and evaluate such ostensibly unrelated matters as war, terrorism, and the American occupation of Iraq (Corrêa, Petchesky, and Parker Reference Corrêa, Petchesky and Parker2008; Puar Reference Puar2007). The global regulation of sex invokes these and many other issues: homosexuality in Uganda; “honor crimes” in Turkey and the Middle East; contraception, abortion, and reproductive rights; adoption, state recognition of same-sex marriage, and child custody issues; HIV transmission and sexual health; sex work and sex trafficking; state support for gender reassignment in Iran and Egypt; transnational adoption; reproductive medical tourism; and circumcision and female genital mutilation. Numerous groups around the world are already examining such issues. The data and knowledge these studies produce is of crucial importance to anyone exploring questions related to sexuality in global politics.
CONCLUSION
The claim that political science has long been a heterosexual discipline should come as no surprise to anyone who is not heterosexual or, for that matter, anyone who is not both male and white. The discipline is a product of a particular moment in history that asked many important and interesting questions but ignored others. Just as the field has recognized that scholarly inquiry is incomplete if it fails to account for gender, race, and socioeconomic status, so too is our work incomplete if we neglect the most basic fact of life: sex. As long as we ignore sexuality—homo, hetero, or otherwise—the people whose sexuality is most privileged can continue to express their interests and inhabit their bodies without consideration of the damage that is being done to those who lack such privilege. Any field of inquiry should consider it anathema to overlook so much of such basic importance simply because the field has been guided by assumptions and expectations propounded a century ago. When we fail to question those assumptions, we act on faith, which is a different matter altogether and is not scholarship.
