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Legal Responses to Trafficking in Women for Sexual Exploitation in the European Union By Heli Askola, Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2007. 182pp. ISBN 1-84113-650-6 £35.00 hardback

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  09 February 2009

Vanessa E. Munro*
Affiliation:
School of Law, University of Nottingham
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Abstract

Type
Book Review
Copyright
Cambridge University Press 2009

Countering sex trafficking or just a close(d) encounter?

The cross-border trafficking of women for the purposes of sexual exploitation has been the focus of considerable attention in recent years. Though far from a new phenomenon, the scale of its contemporary manifestation, its apparent connection to networks of organised crime and state corruption, its intersection with heated debates over divergent models for the regulation of prostitution, and its situation within broader contexts of globalisation, socioeconomic displacement and migration control have ensured its status as a ‘high priority’ in policy discussions nationally, regionally and internationally. Official statements condemning this criminal activity have proliferated and national laws have been developed in which the components of this offence are set out alongside options for the punishment of its perpetrators and the recompense of its victims. But while much ink has been devoted to the topic of sex trafficking in the past decade, there has been a lack (until recently at least) of sustained academic engagement with the theoretical constructs that underpin these responses, and an absence of literature that has sought critically to reflect upon the motivations and merits of these policy initiatives by – amongst other things – interrogating its foundational concepts of ‘exploitation’, ‘migration’, ‘vulnerability’ and ‘choice’, as well as its preoccupation with prostitution over other forms of domestic or labour servitude.

It is against this backdrop that Heli Askola’s recent book makes such a valuable contribution. Focusing specifically upon anti-trafficking initiatives at the European level, and candidly acknowledging its restricted coverage in terms of the class of trafficked person (women) and the purpose for which they are trafficked (sexual exploitation), the book offers impressive and careful coverage of this fast-moving and challenging subject matter. Highlighting the limited competence of the EU in several key areas that contribute to, or flow from, the practice of sex trafficking, Askola reflects upon the obstacles that are presented to achieving a comprehensive approach, within which protection, prosecution and prevention are seen as necessary, and interconnected, components. As she explains, ‘the idea of a comprehensive approach, if taken seriously, implies a fuller understanding of the heterogeneity of trafficking in women for sexual exploitation and its causes. It suggests some sort of equilibrium – for example, that the interests of states and the European polity (sovereignty, control) are carefully balanced against the human rights of individuals, be they EU citizens or not’ (pp. 7–8). This kind of model, though much spoken of and much in demand, is not, she suggests, clearly visible in central European approaches, which have too often placed an undue emphasis on repressive criminalisation and/or migration control elements.

In order to support this hypothesis, and to induce us to follow her towards the development of a more adequate (and holistic) response, Askola introduces the reader to a number of possible lenses through which the phenomenon of trafficking in women for sexual exploitation might be understood – including gender equality, prostitution policy, free movement imperatives, external migration control, criminal justice and human rights. Like a kaleidoscope that shifts its design each time we adjust the filter through which we approach it, Askola reminds us that, although each of these lenses can and does provide valuable insight, an exclusive commitment to any one would distort the nature of the problem and disguise the parameters of its most appropriate remedy. Drawing on comparative analyses of domestic responses in the Netherlands, Sweden and Italy, Askola highlights the extent to which, despite prima facie differences in terms of sociocultural context and prostitution politics, the law and order paradigm continues to enjoy a privileged position, such that – in each setting – ‘the interests of the victim are subordinate to the (short-term) interests of the investigation and prosecution’ (p. 117). Thus echoing the concerns of other critical commentators, Askola highlights the extent to which this preoccupation with the dualisms of guilty/innocent, victim/perpetrator and active/passive – which rarely accord with the messy and multifaceted realities of contemporary people trafficking – sets up dubious hierarchies, which ensure the protection only of those (often minor) victims who exhibit no knowledge, complicity or consent in relation to the original movement or subsequent prostitution.

Significantly, in a context in which it has become politically commonplace to assert that trafficking in human beings represents an infringement of the victim’s human rights, Askola takes some necessary steps in her penultimate chapter towards deconstructing this claim. In particular, she emphasises the extent to which such arguments too often ‘remain rather superficially at the level of rhetorical exhortations that are easily made (and as easily, it seems, ignored)’, without offering any kind of serious challenge to existing political priorities – and the privileging of law and order agendas that they entail (p. 134). Without seeking to jettison reliance on rights talk altogether – in regard to sex trafficking or other social justice issues – Askola emphasises its inherent indeterminacy and malleability, and rightly discourages us from seeing it as offering a panacea. These insights are valuable ones, particularly in a context in which international reports have emerged that purport to rank countries’ domestic anti-trafficking responses in a global hierarchy, thereby encouraging a considerable amount of ‘posturing’ amongst nation states and a dubious tendency to see anti-trafficking commitment (frequently framed in the discourse of rights) as in some way an index of ‘civilisation’. At the same time, though, there is a sense in which, perhaps, Askola’s deconstruction does not go quite far enough, failing to engage fully with the indeterminacy and malleability of the very construction of people trafficking itself. Indeed, while her discussion is peppered with important acknowledgements of the complexity of the trafficking phenomenon – as well as of the fluidity of the dividing lines that differentiate it from people smuggling or poor migrant working conditions – there is a tendency at times to rule out those marginal cases in order to focus upon a trafficking prototype that fits with international and regional definitions, but rarely with reality. While such a focus may be strategically necessary – both to permit engagement with those regulatory regimes on their own terms and to ensure that discussion can move beyond the perilously complex terrain of definition – it has the effect of sidelining some of the complexity and intersectionality that Askola has hitherto drawn our attention to.

Having charted her way through this wide-ranging analysis of the divergent agendas and priorities that operate upon legal and policy responses to sex trafficking in the EU, Askola arrives at her final chapter in which she puts forward her blueprint for a ‘more comprehensive’ approach. The utopia that she urges us to strive for is one in which the phenomenon of people trafficking in general, and sex trafficking in particular, is situated within, rather than abstracted from, the contextual continuums in which it emerges and flourishes. It is a response which ‘stems from a broader commitment not only to enforcing human rights and the equal protection of women but to eradicating poverty, gender inequality, the wealth demarcation between the rich and the poor, and global economic and social injustices’ (p. 162). But this is not a thesis devoid of pragmatism, and in reflection of that, Askola divides her proposals into short- to medium-term, and longer-term, objectives. In the former category, she insists upon increased levels of victim protection (including residence permits), non-instrumentalisation of the victim in the service of law enforcement, more flexible European (im)migration policies and increased (and more secure) funding for preventative awareness-raising campaigns in countries of origin. In the longer term, she calls upon the EU (and the nation states within it) to address more meaningfully the conditions that induce migrants to take unacceptable safety risks or to sign up to exploitative arrangements – through development initiatives, gender mainstreaming and empowerment programmes, as well as interrogation of the sociosexual scripts that legitimate heterosexual men’s entitlement to demand access to commercial sex markets.

The book thus throws down a significant challenge to EU policy-makers (and indeed to all those engaged in anti-trafficking initiatives at the local, national, regional or global level). It covers an extensive amount of ground, displays a commendable grasp of the recent legal developments and combines this with a measured and careful examination of the broader ideological and political paradigms that construct and constrain both the EU’s anti-trafficking competency and its ultimate response. While the restriction upon both women and sex trafficking is justified – not least on the premise that this is the formulation of contemporary people trafficking that has most extensively captured the political and public imagination – one consequence of this approach is that it, somewhat inevitably, leaves certain important questions unaddressed. For example, does the privileging of sexual exploitation over other forms of domestic servitude or labour exploitation (in agriculture, factories, restaurants and so on) obscure the moral disapprobation that drives national initiatives and dissolves the boundary between trafficking and any commercial sex work that is undertaken, in whatever conditions, by non-nationals? Do legislators, officials and campaigners – within and across national jurisdictions – mean the same thing when they talk of exploitation, lack of choice or vulnerability in both these sexual and non-sexual contexts? In a world in which the purposes for which people trafficking occurs, as well as – often - the individual migrant’s complicity therein, are conditioned by the demand within EU member states for cheap labour, how might regional and national organisations more candidly acknowledge and redress their own contributory responsibility? And – just as fundamentally – in a world in which the ‘comprehensive’ anti-trafficking response that Askola envisages seems, on some days at least, to be hopelessly utopian, whilst the realities of sex trafficking indicate an array of degrees of choice, experiences of violence, access to earnings, opportunities for freedom and personal unease with the sale of sex, can we be confident that we are really improving the lives of the worst off by denying them this high risk alternative whilst failing to offer them any alternative form of repair?

These are challenging questions that may well give rise to some uncomfortable responses. Askola’s book, in a number of ways, makes an important contribution to sex trafficking debates and plays a valuable role in situating the peculiarly modern manifestation of this phenomenon in its social, economic, political and sexual context. At the same time, though, there is considerable work yet to be done – both within and outwith the specific instance of sex trafficking – if we are to interrogate candidly the interdependency both of supply/demand and of countries of origin/destination. Further reflection is required not only on what ‘exploitation’ means in the fluid and multiple contexts of people trafficking, but also upon what it is that makes such exploitation wrongful, and upon whether – and how – it would be appropriate to intervene. Sex trafficking may constitute a particularly vivid, prevalent and – by some measures at least – problematic instance of this phenomenon, but it cannot be understood properly outside the spectrum of associated practices of domestic prostitution, clandestine cross-border movement, irregular migration status and intolerable working conditions. Likewise, while the EU polity represents an important site of counter-trafficking innovation, both symbolically and practically, it provides just one forum and one jurisdiction amongst the many others that must be self-reflectively and proactively engaged if genuine improvements in the plight of the vulnerable are to be secured. None of this should be seen to offer a criticism of Askola’s book, which is both inevitably restricted in its remit and yet commendably aware of its broader context. It is, instead, to make a call for additional contributions alongside Askola’s, so that our theoretical and critical understanding of the phenomenon of people trafficking, and of the parameters and demands of the responses that it has elicited, might come to match the strength and persistence of its official condemnation within the policy statements and practice guidelines that are regularly issued by EU and UN institutions.