The short form of the argument reads like what one should expect from dissertations in the humanities and social sciences. Yet, unlike the average doctoral dissertation that rarely makes a splash in the outside world, Dodillet’s book has already been written about by several major Swedish papers, generating both praise and criticism.  On some level, this is hardly surprising. Over the past few years, prostitution policy has never been far from the Swedish headlines, as figures such as Isabella Lund (the pseudonym of a prostitute that came to fame in the Swedish public eye via her well-read blog) and Petra Östergren (the author of Porr, horor och feminister) have sought to re-cast the debate in terms they believe to be more favorable to a critical discussion of Swedish policy. More recently, Jenny Westerstrand’s doctoral dissertation, Mellan mäns händer aims to “critically discuss and evaluate the constructions of women’s legal subjectivity in dominant feminist discourses on prostitution and trafficking.”

But what is surprising is the comparative lack of attention focusing on Dodillet’s analytical contribution to prostitution policy scholarship. Rather, when one begins to sift through the all of the coverage, it’s clear that the major media outlets have primarily been interested in Dodillet’s dissertation because of the book’s final chapter, in which she shifts gear from analysis to advocacy and presents a “draft for a prostitution policy that…might be a way to bridge the gap between the current Swedish and German legislation.” One of Swedish Radio’s recent interviews with Dodillet is representative, with questions chiefly focusing on whether or not Dodillet thought prostitution was a job like any other, whether she thought women who sell sex do so of their own free will, and whether Dodillet can realistically equate the cleaning profession with prostitution. Even in instances where reviewers have pointed to potential methodological shortcomings, such concerns have been tightly inter-woven with criticisms of Dodillet’s normative stance and have resulted in “point counter-point” exchanges in the op-ed pages over whether Dodillet properly characterized the number of quotes from female prostitutes in a government report on prostitution.

Dodillet herself has played a significant role in framing her dissertation as a partisan contribution, noting that she hopes one byproduct of her work will be a new direction in the Swedish debate over prostitution policy, one in which opponents to prostitution no longer have the ability to dominate the debate.To that end, she has already achieved a great deal within what is known as the “third task” of Swedish academics: communicating one’s findings to the broader public.

Yet, we feel that the heavy focus on Dodillet’s proposed policy reform has shifted attention away from assessing the scholarly contribution made by her argument, both in terms of how well her overall chain of evidence substantiates her conclusion, as well as for how we might situate Är sex arbete? in the ongoing evolution of Swedish prostitution policy scholarship. While the media and the general public may be interested in the normative stances held by scholars when it comes to controversial instances of policymaking, one of the key contributions that scholars can make to policy debates is providing plausible and clear explanations for why events have unfolded as they did.

One aspect of Dodillet’s dissertation that should have generated greater discussion is the degree to which cultural traditions at one point in time can be used as (partial) explanations for policy outcomes at another point in time:  namely, her assertion that an 18th century Christian morality, now seemingly obsolete, partially underpins the contemporary adoption of the Swedish law banning the purchase of sexual services. This point is worth exploring as it focuses attention, most broadly, on the explanatory power of culture as a causal mechanism. We fully realize that scholars in the history of ideas may be guided by different criteria when structuring their arguments than political scientists are. However, political scientists with an interest in culture as an independent variable have long grappled with whether a correlation between cultural traditions at one point in time, and policies at a subsequent (often much later) point in time, constitutes causality to the detriment of intervening variables. One of the clearest examples of this is the ongoing debate over why the United States lacks many features of a social democratic welfare state and the degree to which the initial political culture of the American colonies played a decisive role in the comparatively slim range of welfare state services made available to Americans. The historical impact of political culture, or civic traditions, is also a central feature of Robert Putnam’s contemporary classic Making Democracy Work. Indeed, it was surprising that the question of culture as a causal force was not placed squarely on the table at Dodillet’s defense. It would have been quite useful for the audience to hear a detailed discussion of how Dodillet views culture as exerting an impact over time. Do policy entrepreneurs consciously attempt to mobilize support on the basis of certain cultural values, or does Dodillet view actors as being largely unaware of the influence that culture has over their arguments, proposals and policies? Stated differently, what relationship exists between cultural traditions, policy entrepreneurs and their targets?

A broader, albeit related, issue was raised at Dodillet’s defense, when she was asked about the explanatory value of her dissertation as a whole. Unfortunately, this question was one of a substantially larger bundle of questions posed by Professor Eva-Maria Svensson, a member of Dodillet’s grading committee. In the discussion that followed, it appeared to get pushed to the side. This is a shame. Indeed, one would have hoped that this topic would have constituted a central thrust of Professor Brian Palmer’s opposition. Of course, one has to allow for disciplinary differences when it comes to how theory and methods are deployed and assessed when making scholarly arguments. Yet, for those of us with an interest in prostitution policy, but who lack a professional background in the history or ideas, this would have been a highly instructive discussion. Just as the explanatory value of culture should have been problematized, a broader discussion about Dodillet’s overall choices, at every step of the dissertation research and writing process, should have been laid bare. What are the criteria for making a sound scientific contribution within the history of ideas discipline? What constitutes the essential roadmap for assembling a persuasive dissertation in Dodillet’s field, and how well did she traverse all of the necessary terrain, theoretically, methodologically and analytically? Ultimately, such a discussion would allow the public to have a clear sense of the overall scholarly contribution of the dissertation. Indeed, there are many possible candidates for the contribution made by Dodillet’s argument.  Perhaps it is to offer an explanatory account that clears up the specific puzzles of Swedish and German prostitution policy formation. Perhaps it is to offer a generalizable model for understanding prostitution policy outcomes across national settings. Perhaps it is to offer a contextually rich level of historical detail that has not been achieved in previous scholarship with similar aims.  Yet, just as Dodillet has partisan ambitions, it is equally apparent that she has explanatory ambitions. Hearing more about how she views the nature of her scholarly contribution — both for prostitution policy and for the history of ideas — would go a great distance towards putting this comparatively under-discussed aspect of her dissertation in context.

Finally, there is the question of how to situate Dodillet’s dissertation in terms of existing scholarship on Swedish prostitution policy. As Dodillet noted at the start of her defense, the room was filled with not only friends, family and an interested general public, but also with a number of prostitution policy scholars who had traveled from throughout Sweden and beyond to witness the proceedings. Given the historic nature of the Swedish legislation, the question of how to understand the evolution of contemporary Swedish prostitution policy is a central one as we conduct our respective projects. How does Dodillet view her book as advancing the overall research agenda? One might imagine that a potential contribution can be sketched out by considering her work as a progression from Östergren’s Porr, horor och feminister. Specifically, whereas Östergren offers a detailed overview of the Swedish case, Dodillet advances our understanding by taking the analysis several steps further, introducing both the comparative aspect and an explicit history of ideas approach. But, are there other ways in which her book leaves prostitution policy scholars knowing more now than they did before? And equally as important, what future prospects does her book create for prostitution policy scholars? If Dodillet has told us the tales of Sweden and Germany, what’s the next step?

At the end of the day, it may have been inevitable that the Swedish discussion of Är sex arbete? would center on partisan stances. But Dodillet’s book shouldn’t simply be evaluated as a 602 page polemic. It should be evaluated on the basis of the author’s aspirations to shed analytical light on policy choices that generate great interest, and great disagreement.

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1. Dodillet defends

The ban on the purchase of sexual services was framed as necessary because demand for prostitution creates a market for trafficking and because prostitution is unworthy and degrading. Yet, this debate mainly focused only on foreign prostitutes in Norway, Skilbrei argues.

At the same time, “the problem with Nigerian women selling sexual services in Norwegian cities was framed as the women themselves, because their presence and conduct hurt others.” They were portrayed as damaging to Norway’s image by offending tourists, but they were also portrayed as insulting to “regular” men and “family fathers”:

“Male journalists and politicians reported vividly how they were objectified by being approached by Nigerian women. [...] When women offered them sex in front of others in the Karl Johan Street, they felt that it cast suspicion on them as potential ‘whore customers’.”

Skilbrei asks why Nigerian women were scapegoated as the cause of these diverse problems, given that the national understanding of prostitution is that those who prostitute themselves are not responsible for their actions. She concludes that this framing was possible because “the last years’ focus on the otherness of the Nigerian women legitimised demands that they should be treated differently than other women who sell sex.” Simply put, they were being framed as un-Norwegian prostitutes.

Skilbrei’s article is an adaptation of her chapter in the recently published book Norske seksualiteter, edited by Wencke Mühleisen & Åse Røthing (Cappelen 2009).

Photo by Timo Arnall

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1. Research on Norwegian prostitution policy
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A doctoral candidate in the History of Ideas at Gothenburg University, Dodillet analyses the different arguments used by activists, researchers and policy makers from the 1970s and onward. Not only prostitution policy, but also the general terms of debate on prostitution and related issues differ dramatically between Sweden and Germany, a puzzle which Dodillet seeks to disentangle.

• When: 21 February 2009, 10 a.m.
• Where: Stora hörsalen, Humanisten, Renströmsgatan 6, Gothenburg.
• More info: Susannedodillet.com

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1. Susanne Dodillet seminar presentation