CONSENT AND SEX WORK: A perspective on sex work in Finnish society as a key to analysis.
Consent as the minimum legal requirement for sexual crimes in Finland came into force almost three years ago, on January 1, 2023. With this advance, one that many might consider overdue, the doors were finally opened to new measures of justice for victims of sexual violence. But what does this legislative change really mean? Why is the relationship between consent and sex work relevant?
Here I would like to reflect a little on what we can understand about Finnish society and culture itself when also viewed from the perspective of those engaged in sex work.
What is expressed here is based on information collected in the report by Amnesty International Finland (ASENNE ESIIN! Understanding of Consent and Trust in Authorities in Finland), which analyzes the effect of the legislative change on the conception of consent and trust in authorities. In this report, special mention is made of the experiences of sex workers who were surveyed, in cooperation with Pro-tukipiste, with the aim of understanding their perspective and the different ramifications of the concept of consent.
The perspective of sex work can offer a crucial lens to understand not only how consent is constructed, but also how we confront violence and how trust in authorities is established in Finland. First of all, as a field of labor, boundaries must be clearly defined to determine the consequences when they are crossed, both in terms of action and omission. Therefore, the regulation of these boundaries can provide us with a clear picture, not only in legal terms, but also in their social understanding.
The experiences reported by sex workers show that consent is a dynamic process, that violence can be mitigated with support networks and clear boundaries, and that cooperation with the police and other bodies depends on genuine respect for their rights and experiences. However, the reality is that in Finland a large part of sexual violence remains undetected, especially in the field of sex work.
Sex workers are the perfect example, embodying many of the cultural stereotypes often attributed to rape victims. Some recount that the police tend to minimize their experiences, arguing, for example, that these are situations to be expected given the sexual nature of their work. This attitude unfortunately contributes to many cases of abuse going unreported: out of fear of being judged instead of heard; out of fear that, if they are of foreign origin, their administrative status will be questioned; or out of facing a judicial process in which, instead of judging the act of violence suffered, the moral legitimacy of their work activity is put on trial.
Unfortunately, this is not limited to the authorities, but also manifests in medical services, where moral judgments can be perceived when questioning the healthiness of sex work and justifying, on that basis, insinuations that present sex workers as condemned to relive these acts if they continue in such activity. This type of prejudice deeply affects people engaged in sex work, to the point that they do not report all the abuses or serious assaults they may suffer. The same phenomenon is reproduced in society in a more veiled way, where these prejudices may not be so evident, but remain latent.
As for trust in the system, the foundation is fair treatment, which implies the certainty that the person will be listened to and treated with sensitivity, that they will have access to services, and that their case will be addressed fairly. Despite the new legislation, trust is still not fully perceived regarding crimes of sexual violence. For example, 56% of those surveyed in Amnesty International’s report believe that the judicial system does not treat rape victims fairly. Moreover, among people aged 18 to 35, 69% believe that these injustices continue to occur.
On the one hand, the legislation regulating sexual crimes, such as rape, does not require verbal or physical resistance to violence, but establishes lack of voluntariness as the essential element. Even so, there are significant differences in the understanding of consent. These differences are evident both between generations and between genders, with women appearing to understand it to a greater extent. Beyond that, what is still difficult to address in Finland is the culture of silence surrounding sexual crimes. Women interviewed in the Amnesty report pointed out that in the country sexuality is hardly discussed, neither in the public nor in the private sphere, and that the culture tends to emphasize silence and shame. This silence feeds unfounded assumptions: one’s own feelings and needs are not recognized, much less those of others.
As has been observed, sex work lies at the intersection of multiple inter-sectionalities, ranging from gender identity and sexual orientation to migratory experiences. All these dimensions converge and become especially visible in this field. Even issues such as trust in authorities or the very notion of consent find in sex work a turning point, allowing us to analyze how Finnish society understands and addresses consent.
I firmly believe that if we are able to understand and defend the rights of those in positions of greater vulnerability, we will also be able to learn to act more justly in broader contexts. This is precisely the work carried out by organizations such as Pro-tukipiste: by supporting people engaged in sex work, not only is a specific group protected, but the social gaze is transformed and, with it, the possibility of a deeper cultural change is opened.
Camila Cowley Méndez