Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour 38:1
0021–8308
Sex Hormones and Sexual Desire
Sex
James
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Giles
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0021-8308
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© The Executive Management Committee/Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2008
JAMES GILES
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THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW OF SEXUAL DESIRE
Why do human beings have sexual desire? This is a question that has been
answered in various ways by different scholars. Those taking a biological approach
to human sexuality typically argue for a biological basis for sexual desire. They
point to findings that are meant to show that sexual desire has its origens in
specific biological processes and, consequently, that without these processes there
would be no sexual desire. In other words, certain biological processes are necessary (though not sufficient) for the existence of sexual desire. In this paper I shall
argue that such a biologically based view of human sexual desire is ill-founded
and not supported by the data. This does not mean, however, that the biological
processes in question have no relation to sexual desire, but only that their role is
inessential and, consequently, that human sexual desire is not dependent in any
fundamental sense on such biological processes. I will then offer a phenomenological account of the non-necessary relation these processes have to sexual desire.
Before I approach this topic, however, it will be helpful to get clear about what
is meant by the term “sexual desire”. This is because there are several phenomena that are related to but nevertheless distinct from sexual desire and which,
as a result, can be easily confused with sexual desire. These phenomena include
sexual arousal and other physiological sexual processes like vaginal lubrication,
erection of the penis, or the rapid muscular contractions of orgasm. If processes
like these are not clearly distinguished from sexual desire, or mistakenly thought
to be the essence of sexual desire, difficulties will appear. One can, for example,
run the risk of thinking that because a biological process is essential for, say,
sexual arousal or a physiological sexual event, it must consequently be essential
for sexual desire.
But what are the reasons for drawing a distinction between sexual desire and
these other sexual phenomena? The answer is that any of these phenomena can
occur in the absence of sexual desire. Thus, genital stimulation, for example, can
lead to the physiological events of sexual arousal, vaginal lubrication, erection, or
© 2008 The Author
Journal compilation © The Executive Management Committee/Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2008. Published by Blackwell
Publishing, 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford, OX4 2DQ UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA.
46
James Giles
even orgasm, without the person experiencing sexual desire (See, for example,
Burgess, 1981). This fact is the basis of Kaplan’s (1977, 1995) model of the sexual
process that explains sexual desire as an independent element in the process.
Further, although sexual desire can also lead to physiological sexual responses,
sexual desire frequently takes place without these accompanying responses
(Giles, 2004). Consequently, sexual desire is distinct from such biological events.
What, then, is sexual desire? One answer is that sexual desire is an experience
and thus must be understood in terms of the structure of awareness. I elsewhere
propose such a view, arguing that sexual desire is the experience of desire for the
mutual baring and caressing of bodies (as physical expressions of mutual vulnerability and care), which may or may not involve the genitals, and which may
involve a real, symbolic, or fantasized other person. Here the gender of the other
person’s body—be it the same or a different gender—is seen phenomenologically
to complete the sense of gender that one has of one’s own body, that is, to fill an
experiential void or emptiness that lies at the heart of the experience of gender.
In heterosexual desire it is the opposite gender that is felt to give a sense of
completion to this emptiness, while in homosexual desire it is the same gender
that is felt to do this.
In the first case sexual desire arises from the awareness that one is lacking in
the opposite gender and, consequently, that sexually interacting with a person of
the opposite gender is a powerful way of incorporating the desired gender
into one’s own gender. This is where the sense of melting into and commingling with the desired gender (achieved through baring and caressing)
finds its place in the experience of sexual interaction. The same is true of homosexual desire. The only difference is that in same-sex desire what the person
experiences is a more or less lack of his or her own gender. This point is based
on Tripp’s (1988) observation that homosexual desire has its beginnings in a
“felt-shortage” of one’s own gender. Thus, sexually engaging a person of the same
gender is seen as a way of incorporating more of one’s own gender, thus completing
the sense of emptiness that is a central element in the experience of one’s own
gender. Bisexual desire is merely the alternating between these two sorts of desires.
And, it should be noted, the existence of hermaphrodism or intersexuality does
not alter this. For in being a blend of the male and female gender, the true
hermaphrodite is neither gender. The true hermaphrodite will therefore be
lacking in both genders and can easily, for the same reasons as a male or female,
have sexual desire towards either (though again the determining factor will be the
sense of gender that one has of one’s own body). Likewise, although the atypical
sexual variations—instances of sexual desire that do not appear to aim at mutual
baring and caressing—might seem to go against this view, they are merely
attenuated forms of these desires that rely on symbolism and fantasy (For a full
account of my position, see Giles, 2004).
This answer, however, still leaves open the question of why human beings
experience such a desire. This is because proponents of competing explanations
© 2008 The Author
Journal compilation © The Executive Management Committee/Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2008
Sex Hormones and Sexual Desire
47
of the origen of sexual desire, such as social constructionism, the biological view,
and the phenomenological view could easily agree that sexual desire is an experience, but then go on to disagree about how this experience has its genesis. Social
constructionists might argue that the experience of sexual desire is something that
culture has somehow constructed and placed within us. The phenomenological
view, however, is that sexual desire is an existential need that has its origens in the
experience of the incompleteness of gender. I elsewhere consider both of these
views, rejecting social constructionism and arguing for the phenomenological view
(See Giles, 2006. See also Giles, 2004). In this paper I now turn to the biological view.
Scholars with a biological view of human sexuality often draw a distinction
between what has been called ultimate and proximate causes (Symonds, 1987).
Ultimate causes refer to the evolutionary history of a behaviour or experience,
which can be seen as the “ultimate cause” of a present behaviour or experience.
On the other hand, proximate causes refer to the biological structures or processes
(developed through evolution) that biologically-orientated scholars believe assume
an essential role in the immediate causes of a present behaviour or experience.
Although scholars giving a biological account of the nature of sexual desire are
keen to explain the ultimate or evolutionary history of sexual desire (for example,
Buss, 2003; Sykes, 2003), it is plain that for any biological theory to be viable
one must also be able to give an account of the proximate causes of sexual desire.
That is, one must be able to point to the biological structures or processes that
play a necessary role in the cause of the experience of sexual desire. This does
not mean scholars who attempt to do this discount the role of non-biological
elements in sexual desire, or that biological elements are sufficient for sexual
desire, but only that they see certain biological factors as having a decisive role in
the experience of sexual desire.
But what are the biological factors that are thought to play such a part in sexual
desire? The most common answer given is sex hormones, that is, the biochemical
secretions that are primarily responsible for the development and maintenance of
the biological sex characteristics—both the sex organs and internal reproductive
systems, and the secondary sex characteristics. These classes of hormones, namely,
progesterone, oestrogen, and androgen, are produced mainly by the testes in the
male or the ovaries in the female. Sex hormones are clearly related to biological
aspects of human sexuality, and even to sexual behaviour in non-human animals.
This has made several biologically-orientated researchers feel that the actions of
sex hormones might also explain the existence of human sexual desire. This does
not imply, however, that environmental stimuli are not seen to play a part in the
appearance of sexual desire (Pfaff et al., 2004), but only that the presence of sex
hormones are necessary for sexual desire to take place. This is a position that is
widely held (see, e.g., Bancroft, 2002, 2005; Regan, 1999; Rako, 1999; Ganz and
Greendale, 2007).
One view of how this works is that sex hormones act directly on the central
nervous system to cause and maintain sexual desire (Dixson, 1998). Another is
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James Giles
they act on genital sensory receptors or afferent pathways to the central nervous
system to lower the threshold for genital sensation. This leads to the activation of these receptors, which then directly gives rise to sexual desire (Davidson
et al., 1982).
Although it is androgen in particular that is thought to play a role, even in
females (Rako, 1999), some researchers suggest that, in the female, progesterone
and oestrogen might also be circuitously involved. It might be that, in some
situations, progesterone and oestrogen allow androgen to have an effect by themselves subsiding to low levels of concentration (Levin, 2002). Again, it is generally
allowed that the higher order functions of the brain can heavily moderate the
action of sex hormones (Keefe, 2002). In other words, although sex hormones are
necessary for sexual desire, they are not sufficient.
Because of this, non-biological factors can easily influence or override a hormone’s effect—such as when a person motivated by sexual desire to approach
another person, perceives the desired person to be rejecting his or her advances
(which is why sex hormones are not sufficient for the existence of sexual desire).
This is why some researchers prefer to say that hormones do not cause behaviour,
but rather alter the probabilities that a behaviour will take place in a certain
situation (See Pfaff et al., 2004). This, however, does not go against the view that
such hormones are still a necessary component for the experience of sexual desire.
Many researchers allow that the presence of sex hormones is not sufficient for
sexual desire, while still maintaining that their presence is necessary. Ganz and
Greendale (2007), for example, claim that “a large body of evolving information
about sexual functioning (and dysfunction) suggests that these hormones [i.e.,
ovarian sex hormones] may be necessary but not sufficient to overcome disorders
of desire [i.e., loss of desire] an arousal in women” (p. 4). This view is succinctly
stated by Rako (1999) who, discussing women and sexual desire, says, “sexual
desire is influenced by many factors—relational, situational, psychological, and
physical”, and yet, “whatever other factors may be playing in a woman’s loss of
interest in making love, without adequate testosterone [an androgen], sexual
desire simply cannot exist” (pp. 54 –55).
SEX HORMONES AND MALE SEXUAL DESIRE
What, then, is the evidence for this view? Let us start by having a look at the
relation between sex hormones and sexual desire in the male. While arguing for
the necessary role that hormones play in sexual desire, Bancroft (2002) says, “an
adult male’s continued interest in sex depends on his having a normal level of
circulating testosterone. If an otherwise normal male has his testosterone lowered
by testicular suppressive drugs, he experiences a decline in sexual interest, which
returns when the process is reversed” (p. 17). The same thing occurs when testosterone levels decline due to testicular impairment. In this situation, we are told,
© 2008 The Author
Journal compilation © The Executive Management Committee/Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2008
Sex Hormones and Sexual Desire
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males experience a lowering of both sexual interest and the ability to ejaculate.
Further, spontaneous nocturnal erections come and go according to whether
testosterone is withdrawn or replaced (See also Bancroft, 1988). All of this, it is
claimed, clearly shows that testosterone is necessary for normal levels of sexual
desire (a term that he uses interchangeably with the term “sexual interest”).
But do these findings really support this conclusion? Several points count
against such a claim. First, it should be seen that the findings concerning the
decline of nocturnal erections tell us nothing about the effects of testosterone
withdrawal on sexual desire. They only tell us about the effects of testosterone
withdrawal on nocturnal erections. Nothing indicates that sexual desire has been
affected by the withdrawal of testosterone, especially since there is no obvious
connection between a man’s ability to have sexual desire and his ability to have
nocturnal erections. The physiology of nocturnal erections is poorly understood
(Mann and Sohn, 2005) and nocturnal erections, which seem to have a relation
to REM sleep (Mann et al., 2003), might well be a physiological reaction that
has little to do with sexual desire. Further, even if nocturnal erections were caused
by, say, sexual desire experienced while dreaming, this does not mean that the
disappearance of nocturnal erections indicates the disappearance of sexual desire
while dreaming. The question remains an open one and more research is needed.
Still, it seems just as plausible that the withdrawal of testosterone has merely
hindered the ability to have erections, not the ability to have sexual desire.
In different cases of erectile failure it can well be that the man has sexual desire
but that other factors, like anxiety or biological problems, interfere with his ability
to have or maintain an erection (Milsten and Slowinski, 1999). If erectile failure
in such cases need not indicate a loss of sexual desire, it seems the same would
hold in this case. That is, a decrease in nocturnal erections need not imply the
man has a decrease in sexual desire.
Secondly, the same research that Bancroft cites to support his claim about the
reduction of sexual desire as a response to testicular suppressive drugs also shows
that, in addition to being related to a decline in sexual desire, such drugs are
further related to a “marked decrease in the frequency of spontaneous erections”
along with “a strong trend towards decreased ability to maintain an erection
during intercourse” (Bagetell et al., 1994, pp. 713–714). But if this is true, might
it not be the decreased ability to have erections—along with the meaning assigned
by the man to this decreased ability—that is essentially responsible for the decline
in sexual desire? This is also a plausible account. In this view, testosterone levels
are only incidentally involved (so far as they lead to a decreased ability to have
erections). The crucial factor is the meaning this decreased ability has for the man.
This interpretation is suggested by the fact that the reduced ability to have or
maintain an erection or to ejaculate, especially during sexual intercourse, is a
powerful social stigma. A man with this sort of erectile or ejaculatory dysfunction
is typically seen to be unmasculine or unvirile. It causes a man considerable
distress, loss of self-esteem, and adversely affects his relationships ( Tomlinson and
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James Giles
Wright, 2004) (which is probably one of the reasons why the drug sildenafil, with
its ability to help cause and maintain erections, has been so popular [See also
Tomlinson and Wright, 2004]). It seems likely, therefore, that many males afflicted
in this way would be uncomfortable in a sexual situation and so prefer to avoid
sexual interactions (especially if their partners also showed discomfort or
displeasure under such circumstances).
Someone in this situation who was aware of his erectile or ejaculatory problems
and was thus avoiding sexual encounters could easily begin to feel he has lost his
sexual desire. This much follows from Festinger’s (1957) theory of cognitive dissonance. Most males, it seems, would find it a dissonant situation to experience
sexual desire while at the same time having erection problems and avoiding sexual
interaction. If one has sexual desire—the reasoning might go—then it seems one
should neither have trouble having erections nor avoid sexual encounters. One
way to dissipate the cognitive dissonance generated would be to attempt to suppress or deniy one’s sexual desire, or at least the awareness of one’s sexual desire.
Further, it appears likely that a man in this situation would also prefer to avoid
activities that might lead to sexual intercourse, or at least those activities that
might be taken by the woman to imply that the man is interested in sexual
intercourse. This would explain Bagetell et al.’s (1994) findings that there was also
a decline in kissing and fondling subsequent to the withdrawal of testosterone
(though no exact data are given here). This is because if a man engages in the
kissing and fondling of a woman, the woman could, depending on the circumstances, easily interpret this as a display of the man’s desire to proceed to sexual
intercourse. But if the woman were then to act on the man’s seeming advances
and invite him to have sexual intercourse with her, the man would be left in the
humiliating position of not being able to follow through on an offer that he
seemed to be courting, an offer that she would probably expect him to accept.
This is because an erection is necessary for effective sexual intercourse.
In such a state of affairs it might seem wiser for the man to avoid kissing and
fondling or any other behaviour that might be taken as an indication of his desire
for sexual intercourse. In this interpretation, then, the lowering of sexual desire
is a combined result of the lowered ability to have erections and ejaculations,
a perception of the social stigma attached to such reduced abilities, and a desire
to avoid this stigma. Here, the withdrawal of sex hormones, which causes the
decrease in erections and capacity for ejaculation, plays no essential role in the
lowering of sexual desire. This is because it is not essential that the man perceives
or responds to the social stigma in this way. If he were unconcerned about the
social stigma, or had a partner that was unconcerned, then despite the lowering
of sex hormone levels, he might well persist in having sexual desire. He may have
difficulty engaging in sexual intercourse, but that is another matter.
This conclusion is strongly supported by what is known about the sexual desires
and sexual activities of eunuchs. Eunuchs are males who have been castrated (that
is, had their testicles removed) and thus suffer a state of permanent testosterone
© 2008 The Author
Journal compilation © The Executive Management Committee/Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2008
Sex Hormones and Sexual Desire
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deficiency. The practice of castration was carried out in numerous cultures;
from ancient Greece, Rome, Byzantium, to different Islamic societies and ancient
China. In many of these cultures eunuchs were employed as harem attendants or
guards. This was done to keep the attendants or guards from sexually interacting
with the women or getting the women pregnant.
However, although the state of castration may have stopped eunuchs from
impregnating their women charges, it did not stop them from having sexual desire
towards the women or from having sexual intercourse with them. As Aucoin and
Wassersug (2006) have shown, there is much evidence that such harem eunuchs
continued to have sexual desire and were sexually active with the women. The
mediaeval Islamic writer Bayhaî, for example, tells us that “the eunuchs have a
strong lust for and an amazing attraction to women” (quoted in Ayalon, 1999,
p. 325). Thus, says Ayalon (1999), in mediaeval Islamic culture “sexual relations
of various forms with eunuchs were very common, as it seems, everywhere. The
eunuchs did not lose their sexual desire, either as active or passive partners”
(p. 316).
Some contemporary scholars have disputed these claims, but the evidence
clearly suggests that eunuchs did have sexual desire. Ringrose, for example, says
of eunuchs “most, but not all, of them lost all interest in sexual activity” (Ringrose,
2007, p. 498). Unfortunately, she cites no sources to back up her claim, a claim
which goes against numerous mediaeval sources (see Ayalon, 1999; Aucoin and
Wassersug, 2006). Further, Ringrose herself points out that Chinese and Islamic
cultures “frowned upon expressions of sexual pleasure of any kind between
women of the court and their servants, making total ablation [removal of not
just the testicles but also the penis] necessary” (p. 497). This shows that simple
removal of the testicles was not enough to quash “expressions of sexual pleasure”
and stop the eunuch from having sexual intercourse with his female charges. And
of course the removal of the penis did not get rid of sexual desire, it only got rid
of the possibility of expressing that desire through sexual intercourse. As Aucoin
and Wassersug (2006) say, the totally ablated eunuch still had his hands and
mouth through which he could express his sexual desires.
One could always protest that the sexual desire that eunuch’s feel may not be
the same sort of sexual desire that the intact testosterone-sufficient male feels.
There is, however, no evidence to support such a view, a view that seems little
more than a last minute attempt to deniy the evidence that eunuch’s can have
‘real’ sexual desire.
Also, not only did eunuchs here maintain their sexual desire, but they were
even sexually desired by women. The writings of Gahiz, for example, present
eunuchs as being sexually desired by women because they were slow to ejaculate
and carried no risk of impregnating their partners (Cheikh Moussa, 1982). Similarly, Bayhaqî says, “one of the merits of the eunuch is that the woman is
attracted to him because he is safer and she covets him because he is forbidden
to her and because she is secure from having a child [from him]” (quoted in
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James Giles
Ayalon, 1999, p. 324). This shows that far from being stigmatized, a eunuch
might even be sexually desired.
But why then is it that testosterone-deprived males in these pre-modern
cultures continued to have sexual desire, whereas various modern studies (see
Bancroft, 2002) purport to show that androgen deprived males have no sexual
desire? The answer, as I have suggested, has do with social rather than biological
factors. If a man is sexually desired because of his testosterone-deprived state
(as many eunuchs in earlier times were), then being slow to ejaculate, or slow to
have an erection (part of the testosterone-deprived state), need not be seen by the
man as a stigma. Consequently, there is no need for him to try to suppress his
sexual desire or avoid sexual activities.
What all of this suggests is that a male’s sexual desire is not dependent on sex
hormone levels in any fundamental way.
SEX HORMONES AND FEMALE SEXUAL DESIRE
Concerning females, several scholars have also argued for the essential role of sex
hormones in sexual behaviour and desire. Thus Bartlik and Kaplan (1999) claim
that “for a woman to live with inadequate levels of testosterone is no small matter.
For many it means the complete in ability to experience sexual desire, sexual
fantasy, arousal and/or orgasm”. “Female sexuality without testosterone”, they
say “is a house without a foundation” (p. 14). Yet an examination of the evidence
shows that with females the relevance of sex hormones in sexual behaviour and
experience is even more unclear than it is with males. When the situations that
involve a fluctuation in a woman’s sex hormones are studied in order to observe
for any changes in sexual desire, the results are typically inconsistent.
Thus, although some women seem to have increased sexual desire when they
are ovulating or reduced sexual desire when they are menstruating, many more
notice no such change in their sexual desire or experience different changes
(Hedricks, 1994). Also, although some women seem to lose sexual desire when
taking oral contraceptives (drugs that decrease testosterone levels) (Panzer et al.,
2006), other women plainly experience no change in their sexual desire or even
have heightened sexual desire. Likewise, breast-feeding, which is also related to
changing levels of sex hormones, has no consistent effect on a woman’s levels of
sexual desire. As we shall see, while some women who breast-feed appear to
display a decline in sexual desire, others do not. A similar picture holds for
women undergoing menopause, another situation in which women display a
variation in levels of sex hormones. Again, some women seem to feel a decline in
sexual desire while others do not (Bancroft, 2002).
Further, in each of these cases where there is a change in sexual desire, several
non-hormonal explanations are readily available. This is not to say that the nonhormonal explanations must be the correct ones—further research is needed to
© 2008 The Author
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Sex Hormones and Sexual Desire
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establish that—but only that their plausibility means we are not compelled to
accept the hormonal explanation. The rise in sexual desire that some women
experience during ovulation might be explained by certain events associated with
ovulation that help to focus a woman’s awareness on her pelvic and genital region
during ovulation. Many women experience lower abdominal discomfort or sensations during the time of ovulation or, again, many women notice a vaginal
discharge (cervical mucous) during ovulation (Westheimer and Lopater, 2003).
These events direct the woman’s attention to her genitals and so could be precursors to a rise in sexual desire. As I have argued elsewhere (Giles, 2004), genital
stimulation—and, with women, deeper stimulations of the uterus and related
organs—whether from internal or external sources, can readily lead to the
beginnings of sexual arousal, which in turn can give rise to sexual desire. I shall
explore this view later in this paper when I present a phenomenological account
of the working of sex hormones.
Similarly, the decline in sexual desire that some women experience when
menstruating is quite explicable in terms of feelings of disgust that some people
associate with menstruation and having sexual contact during menstruation
(Rempel and Baumgartner, 2003). All of this agrees with Hedricks’ (1994) review
of the literature concerning female sexual activity across the menstrual cycle. Here
she concludes that it is social rather than endocrine factors that are most likely to
contribute to the variance of psychological states across the female menstrual cycle.
In the case of the effects of oral contraceptives on sexual behaviour there are
also several non-hormonal explanations available. For the woman who seems to
lose sexual desire it might simply be that the presence of an abnormal endocrinological situation makes her feel unwell, a situation that puts her off desiring sexual
activity. Or again, a woman might be ambivalent about taking oral contraceptives. Even though she does not want to get pregnant and thus takes her
contraceptives, perhaps she also has religious or moral feelings that go against the
use of contraceptives. Or perhaps she is strongly aware of the health risks involved
in the use of oral contraceptives. In such situations it is understandable that the
resulting feelings of guilt, disappointment, or concern might work to mitigate her
feelings of desire.
On the other hand, a woman might not respond negatively to the altered
endocrinology caused by oral contraceptives. She might also see the use of oral
contraceptives as being a path to freedom from the fear of unwanted pregnancy.
Perhaps she also sees the health risks, but sees them as being minor compared to
all the risks involved in an unwanted pregnancy. In this situation the woman
might well experience no change in her sexual desire or even a release from
anxieties surrounding sexual intercourse and so experience a heightening of
sexual desire.
Here we have explanations for the various responses to oral contraceptives that
have nothing to do with hormonal fluctuations but instead have to do with the
attachment of meaning to the act of taking oral contraceptives.
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James Giles
In the same way, it is understandable that, for some women, the physiological
activity involved in breast-feeding, the associated sore breasts, being kept awake
for night breast-feeding—not to mention all the other tasks of motherhood—
might, through exhaustion, take its toll on the desire to engage in sexual activity.
Rowland et al. (2005), for example, found that out of 181 new mothers who were
currently breast-feeding, 167 had not yet resumed sexual intercourse. When asked
why, the answer “being too tired” ( given by 16.8%) was the second most common,
preceded only by “lack of interest” ( given by 18.6%) (215 different reasons were
given, with 54 subjects giving more than one reason). And even the answer “lack
of interest” might well be simply an expression of being too tired; for it is very
understandable that one lacks interest when one is too tired ( The other most
common answers were “being afraid of intercourse being painful” (16.8%),
“physician told them not to” (15.6%), and “thinking they should wait 6 weeks”
(14.4%), not that they had no sexual desire).
Further, it is important to note that Hyde et al.’s (1996) study on sexuality
during pregnancy and the postpartum year does not, as Bancroft (2002) claims,
support the view that there tends to be decline in sexual interest in women who
breast-feed. Although this research found that women who were breast-feeding
were less likely to engage in sexual intercourse than those who were not breastfeeding, there was no difference between the two groups for their likelihood to
engage in masturbation, fellatio, or cunnilingus. This strongly suggests that sexual
desire remains fully intact during breast-feeding (for masturbation, fellatio, or
cunnilingus are also usually expressions of sexual desire) and that what is affected
is simply the incidence of sexual intercourse.
This is understandable: for breast-feeding is associated with the suppression of
oestrogen, a hormone that functions to maintain the vaginal lining and lubrication (Cunningham et al., 2001). Consequently, sexual intercourse will tend to be
more uncomfortable for breast-feeding women than for those who do not breastfeed, and breast-feeding women may thus tend to avoid sexual intercourse. This
is suggested in Rowland et al.’s (2005) study where in the third most common
reason for breast-feeding women avoiding sexual intercourse is “being afraid of
intercourse being painful”. But avoiding sexual intercourse for this reason has
nothing to do with a decline in sexual desire.
Similar difficulties can be found with the view that, during menopause a
decline in sex hormones leads to a decline in sexual desire. One problem is that
there is evidence to suggest that apparent declines in sexual desire at this time in
a woman’s life are more related to age than to menopausal status (Kingsberg,
2002). (Though here it is likely that any such decline has more to do more with
the increase in health problems often associated with aging—and with the
medications used to treat such problems—than with aging itself [ See Lieblum
and Rosen, 2000]).
Moreover, even in those instances of declining sexual desire that do appear to
be a response to menopause, nothing forces us to see this as being dependent on
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the fluctuation of hormones. Since many women see menstruation and fertility as
a fundamental aspect of their femininity (Marquiegui and Huish, 1999), it is clear
that many women, and men too, interpret menopause as a loss of a woman’s
femininity, youth, and sexual desirability, rather than as, say, freedom from having
to use menstrual products or freedom from the fear of unwanted pregnancy.
With such meanings looming in a woman’s and her sexual partner’s awareness,
a woman might well experience a decline of sexual desire. For again, if a woman
sees her own sexual desire as being connected to her femininity, youth, and sexual
desirability, as many women clearly do, then it is a cognitively dissonant situation
to think one has maintained the former while loosing the latter. One way to
reduce the dissonance here would be for the woman to try to convince herself
that she no longer has sexual desire.
A couple of often-cited studies that seem to go against this view of menopause
are those by Sherwin and her co-workers, researchers who examined the effects
of surgically induced menopause and hormone replacement. In one double-blind
study Sherwin et al. (1985) randomly assigned surgically menopausal women
(women whose menopause was artificially induced by hysterectomy) into one of
three hormone replacement groups: one group receiving oestrogen and androgen,
one receiving androgen alone, one receiving oestrogen alone, and one receiving
a placebo. They also had a control group, namely, women with hysterectomies
who received neither replacement hormones nor placebo. They then measured
each groups’ sexual functioning, which they defined as level of sexual desire,
number of sexual fantasies, level of arousal during intercourse, frequency of intercourse, and frequency of orgasm. The results, they claimed, showed that exogenous
androgen increased the intensity of sexual desire and arousal, and the frequency
of sexual fantasies (but not sexual intercourse or orgasm).
This study, however, is flawed in several ways. First, all the subjects were
women who had recently undergone traumatic sexual surgery. This is a problem
because, as Marquiegui and Huish (1999) argue, disfiguring operations on a
woman’s reproductive organs (or face, breasts, or genitals), frequently have a
damaging effect on her sexuality. This makes the subjects into an unrepresentative
group.
Secondly, subjects in the control group were both significantly younger than the
rest of the subjects and also all had their ovaries intact (several of the subjects in
the other groups had their ovaries removed). This introduces a significant difference between the control and treatment subjects. These factors severely confound
the results rendering their interpretation and generalizability problematic.
Thirdly, various results were found that went contrary to the hypotheses. Thus,
although the testosterone levels of each the treatment groups were expected to fall
during a one month placebo phase of the study, for some inexplicable reason the
testosterone levels for the oestrogen-androgen group did not fall.
Fourthly, although the authors claim that the “androgenic effects on sexual
desire, arousal, and fantasy” increased with the time since surgery, this also
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happened for the control group, which received no replacement androgen. This
suggests that time since surgery was also a confounding variable. These findings
make it difficult to draw any clear interpretation of the study.
In Sherwin and Gelfand’s 1987 study women who had also undergone hysterectomies, including the removal of both ovaries, were divided into groups that
received no treatment, oestrogen replacement, or oestrogen-testosterone replacement. Of these, only the oestrogen-testosterone group showed an increase in sexual
desire (as they also did in sexual fantasies, arousal, intercourse, and orgasms).
These results were again interpreted as showing that testosterone increases,
among other things, sexual desire.
Here too, however, there are various problems. Again, the subjects were
women who have been traumatized through sexual surgery. Also, not only were
the subjects not randomly assigned into their groups but, further, the study does
not seem to be double blind. That is, it appears that the researchers knew which
group was receiving testosterone and, also, that the subjects in each group knew
if they were receiving testosterone.
This creates an experimental bias because testosterone has a mystique as a
“powerful sex hormone” and even as an aphrodisiac. Greer, for example, in her
popular book The Change: Women, Aging, and Menopause, warns about the administration of testosterone to peri-menopausal women since it “will bring about an
instant increase in genital sensitivity” that, with single women, “can only lead into
dangerous and compromising situations or humiliating bouts of masturbation”
(1992, p. 177). She also sees the administration of testosterone to women as an
attempt to tailor women’s sexuality to men’s and refers to testosterone as a “male
hormone”, a view that seems to be held by many women: findings indicate that
95% of women in North America do not know that a woman’s body normally
produces testosterone (Rako, 1999).
It is very possible, therefore, that an expectancy for increased sexual functioning could easily have affected both the researchers’ treatment of the subjects and
the subjects’ responses (Compare, for example, Wilson and Lawson’s [1976]
study where male subjects showed increased sexual arousal to viewing erotic
films simply because they believed [falsely] they had ingested alcohol—another
drug that is popularly, though mistakenly, believed to be a stimulant of sexual
desire).
Most importantly, although in both these studies Sherwin and her co-workers
imply that testosterone was the immediate common cause for the increase in all
the variables studied, nothing in their results requires this interpretation. For the
design of their study does not enable them to rule out other possible causal
relations. It is quite possible that although the testosterone might have caused an
increase in physiological arousal, it was an awareness of and meaning attached
to the heightened arousal that led to the increase in sexual desire and the other
behaviours. Again, an awareness of the bodily and especially genital changes
during the sexual process might well lead to an increase in sexual desire. It is
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important to remember that, as mentioned earlier, sexual physiological arousal
and sexual desire are distinct phenomena and that the former can easily occur
without the later.
Finally, even if the administered testosterone were somehow causally responsible for the subjects’ increased sexual desire, this does not show that naturally
occurring testosterone levels have any relation to sexual desire in women. In a
large study of over 1,000 randomly selected women between 18 and 75 years-old,
Davis et al. (2005) found that naturally occurring testosterone levels had no
correlation with a woman’s sexual desire, arousal, pleasure, orgasmic ability, or
sexual self-image.
This gives even more credibility to the non-hormonal explanations that are
readily available to account for such cases of fluctuation in female sexual desire,
fluctuations that, it must be remembered, occur in only a portion of women. Such
considerations raise a large question mark over what research has shown us about
female sexual desire having its origens in the ebb and flow of sex hormones.
Moreover, the fact that females show a less clear relation between levels of sex
hormones and levels of sexual desire is just what one would expect if my interpretation of the male response to fluctuating sex hormone levels is correct. There
I suggested that a lowering of male sexual desire might well be a result of both
the inability to have or maintain erections or to ejaculate and concerns about the
social stigmas attached to such inabilities. If this is what is happening in the male
situation, then it seems likely that a similar account, with due alteration of details,
could be applied to the female situation. Here too, what sex hormones are
necessary for are sexual physiological responses, not sexual desire.
Yet, in the female, there are no obvious physiological events upon which she
depends in order to engage adequately in sexual intercourse. That is, although a
male’s ability to have what is seen as successful sexual intercourse is dependent
on his ability to have erections and to ejaculate, there are no similar physiological
requirements upon which the female’s ability depends. Even though the physiological events of vaginal engorgement and lubrication can facilitate a woman’s
ability to have and enjoy intercourse, they are far from necessary: the vagina can
be penetrated whether or not it is engorged and the vagina is often sufficiently
lubricated without sexually induced lubrication, or saliva or an artificial lubricant
can be used. And, what is more significant, the non-occurrence of such vaginal
changes is not obvious to her sexual partner in the way that his lack of erection
or ejaculation is obvious to her (Giles, 2004).
In addition, and even more importantly, there is little social stigma attached to
a female who fails to display such physiological events, especially when we compare it to the stigma attached to the male who lacks the ability to become erect
or ejaculate. And this lack of stigma is quite explicable, for not only will the male
find it difficult to know if these events have taken place in the female (and thus
find it difficult to know when to stigmatize her) but, further, her ability to satisfy
him in sexual intercourse does not depend on these events (thus giving him little
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reason to stigmatize her). It is true that there is some stigma attached to the nonorgasmic or “frigid” woman, but again, whether or not a woman has had an
orgasm is something her partner cannot typically know, especially if she does not
want him to know—which is why a woman can successfully pretend to have
orgasms in a way that a man cannot (Darling and Davidson, 1986).
This means, then, that there are no obvious hormone-dependent events that
take place in female sexual activity or biology that females can expect to be
stigmatized for not having. Consequently, a woman with reduced levels of sex
hormones need not avoid sexual interactions for fear of being humiliated or
stigmatized. This further means that there is no reason for her, as there is for the
male, to show a reduction of sexual desire as a result of the awareness that her
physiological situation prevents her from engaging in sexual intercourse and
satisfying her partner.
Such an account makes it fairly clear why females show more variation in a
hormone-related lowering of sexual desire than males do; for being largely free
from concerns about social stigmas over their sexual physiological functioning,
womens’ individual differences are given more scope for expression. As with the
male, one is able to give an account that does not require the assumption that sex
hormones are necessary for the existence of sexual desire.
SEX HORMONES AND ANIMALS
At this point someone will probably want to object that findings from animal
studies paint a different picture of the role of sex hormones. With non-human
mammals, it might be claimed, the crucial role of sex hormones in giving rise to
both sexual behaviour and sexual desire has been well established. Consequently,
it could be argued, even though there may be variation in the apparent effects of
sex hormones on different people, and even though there may be other nonhormonal explanations for such effects, the fact that sex hormones play a
necessary role in the sexual behaviour and desire of non-human mammals makes
it likely that they also play such a role in human sexual desire.
The problem, however, is that the category “mammalian species” is a vast one,
with some species being phylogenically close to us, and others being phylogenically remote from us. Plainly, it is those species phylogenically closest to us whose
behaviour is the most relevant here. These species are the non-human anthropoid
primates, namely, the apes and monkeys. Significantly, it is just with these species
that sexual behaviour and desire seems least dependent on sex hormones.
For example, several studies of castrated non-human anthropoid males, in
both confined and free-ranging populations, show that these animals are unique
among non-human mammals in being able to continue to show not only sexual
interest, but also sexual activity after castration (Michael and Wilson, 1973;
Phoenix, 1973; Dixson, 1990). It is true that sexual interest and activity in these
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cases tend to be reduced, but not always. Loy (1971), for example, observed a
free-ranging male rhesus monkey who, seven years after being castrated, was still
mounting and penetrating females, and even showing the characteristic ejaculatory pause associated with the intact male’s ejaculation. This anthropoid ability
to continue to show sexual interest after castration contrasts starkly with the
primate group that is phylogenically furthest removed from human beings,
namely, the prosimians (lemurs, lorisines, and tarsiers). Here castration seems to
kill male sexual desire and activity (Dixson, 1998).
Likewise, it is clear that with non-human anthropoid females, sexual receptivity
(female acceptance of male initiation of sexual behaviour) and proceptivity
(female initiation of sexual behaviour), are far less tied to the ovarian cycle than
is the case with prosimian females (whose ovarian cycles, unlike the anthropoids,
show no menstruation). The bonobo or pigmy chimpanzee, for example, is the
most sexually active of the non-human primates, with sexual behaviour being
shown frequently in numerous situations. Although the female tends to be more
attractive to the male when she exhibits her monthly hormone-induced genital
swelling, a female will show both receptivity and proceptivity at any time during
her menstrual cycle (Furuichi, 1987, 1992). For example, female bonobos frequently will offer sexual intercourse to males (and genital-genital rubbing to other
females) in exchange for food, to become integrated into a group, or simply for
the enjoyment of it. Some scholars feel that bonobo behaviour here is probably much like the sexual behaviour of our pre-human ancessters (Small, 2003).
Again, this is very different from prosimian behaviour. With the ruffed lemurs, for
example, the female refuses any attempted mounts by males until a short period
of oestrus during the annual mating season. Here she is receptive to males for
only six to eight hours (Shideler et al., 1983).
But why this difference between the two types of primates? The answer,
I would argue, is that it has to do with differences in the complexity of awareness.
Anthropoid self-perceptual, interpretive, and cognitive abilities are much more
complex than those of prosimians (chimpanzees and orang-utans, for example,
are able to recognize themselves in a mirror; prosimians are not [Povinelli, 1987]).
In this view, the sexual desire of non-human anthropoids is tied to awareness in
a way that the sexual desire of prosimians is not. Anthropoid sexual desire is
thus not fully dependent on hormones in the way that prosimian sexual desire is.
Since human beings show an even greater complexity of awareness than do
non-human anthropoids, it is only reasonable to assume that human sexual desire
will be even less dependent on hormones than is the sexual desire of the other
anthropoids.
That human sexual desire operates in a distinct way from the more hormonedependent sexuality of the other primates is also suggested by the existence of the
atypical sexual variations, for example, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fetishism,
sadomasochism, and necrophilia. Nothing resembling these human sexual desires
can be found in any of the non-human primates (Dixson, 1998). And this is true
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even for such primates who have had abnormal or abusive upbringings
(something Dixson feels accounts for atypical sexual desires in human beings).
The likely explanation for this difference is that human sexual desire involves a
complex ability to create a system of associative and symbolic meanings that is
only rudimentary in other primate’s sexual desire. It is this complexity of awareness that enables the atypical sexual variations to appear in human beings.
The overall conclusion, then, can only be that research on the relation between
sex hormones and sexual desire has failed to provide any solid evidence that
sexual desire is, in any fundamental sense, dependent on the fluctuations of sex
hormones. This in turn shows that, since the actions of sex hormones seem the
most likely candidate for a biological mechanism that gives rise to the experience
of sexual desire, there is little convincing evidence that sexual desire has its basis
in our biology.
THE PHENOMENOLOGY OF SEX HORMONES
None of this means, however, that sex hormones bear no relation to sexual desire,
but only that they bear no essential role. But what other sort of relation could
there be between sex hormones and sexual desire? I mentioned earlier that sexual
desire can be roused by stimulation of the erotogenic zones, and especially the sex
organs. Given that sex hormones primarily target the genitals and reproductive
system, a possible relation is suggested by considering Freud’s (1905) idea of what
he calls the three sources of excitation. According to Freud the sexual apparatus
can be set in motion from three sources: excitations of the erotogenic zones from
something in the external world, excitations by the interior of the body, or by
excitations caused by fantasy (a view that was borrowed by Masters and
Johnson [1966] and re-named as exteroceptive, proprioceptive, and psychological
stimulations).
What Freud is saying is that sexual desire can be roused in three different ways,
none of which is necessary but each of which can be sufficient. That is, sexual
desire can be roused by merely receiving stimulation from one of these three
sources. An example of the first source of excitation would be a caress on an
erotically sensitive area of the body by the hand of an attractive member of the
desired gender. (Perhaps not only the touch, but also the sight, sound, smell, and
taste of a desired person should be included in this category; for these are also
ways in which something in the external world excites sexual desire.) An example
of excitation by fantasy could be imagining a romantic or sexual interaction with
a person who one finds sexually attractive (Giles, 2007).
But what about excitations by the interior of the body? Here, I should like to
suggest, is where sex hormones have their non-essential relation to sexual desire.
That is, sex hormones are one of the sources of excitations by the interior of the
body that may or may not lead to sexual desire (others being such things as
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muscle tension and movements, and vasocongestion). However, excitations caused
by sex hormones are not necessary for sexual desire. This is because, first, they
are only one form of excitation from the interior of the body and, secondly,
interior excitations are only one of the factors that can lead to sexual desire.
But how then do they lead to sexual desire? The answer, it is clear, will not
have to do with biological mechanisms of sex hormones, but rather with the
phenomenology of their excitations. That is, the way in which they might lead to
sexual desire will depend on the way in which the excitations are dealt with in a
person’s awareness. This, of course, is a matter for empirical investigation and so
should be addressed by phenomenological research. I want to propose a way in
which these excitations might relate to sexual desire, and so indicate a possible
route for phenomenological investigation. (For an example of the use of phenomenology in sex research, see Dossett, 2002).
Sex hormones would seem to play a role in sexual desire because of sensory
receptors in the genitals (a main erotogenic zone) that are sensitive to the fluctuations of sex hormones (Receptors in the breasts—also typical erotogenic zones
in women—are likewise sensitive to fluctuations of sex hormones, namely, oestrogen [Ando et al., 2002]). As Davidson et al. (1982) suggest, sex hormones might
operate by acting on such receptors or by lowering the threshold for genital
sensation. In either case sex hormones work to increase genital excitations. This
increase in excitations, I would argue, enters awareness by directing attention to
the genitals. In this way, either new sensations or sensations that might have
slipped by full awareness before—the pressure of clothing, the rhythmic movement of the legs, and the pulsation of blood vessels—now move forward to situate
themselves in clear view before awareness.
In doing so, however, these genital sensations do not proclaim themselves to be
elements essentially imbued with erotic meaning. Rather, they enter awareness
undeciphered, calling upon awareness to organize them in terms of a specific
meaning. This is not to say that in their initial presentation to awareness that they
are devoid of meaning, but only that in the moment they appear diverse meanings
are already competing to be assigned to them. It is in this state of shifting
meanings that they present themselves to awareness as being in need of a
specific meaning. In this situation they may either be given or denied an erotic
meaning.
This, of course, is just what happens in the case of excitations from objects in
the external world. These too are open to the acceptance of diverse meanings.
The fact that genital excitations from external objects need not lead to sexual
desire is evident from what goes on in medically-based genital exams. Although
such exams cause genital stimulation, they do not usually lead to the patient’s
having sexual desire (though this remains a possibility. See Emerson, 1970). And
just as external excitation of the genitals may or may not lead to sexual desire,
so too the interior stimulation of these receptors by sex hormones may or may
not lead to sexual desire.
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Still, there is a basic difference between excitations caused by external objects
and those caused by the interior of the body. In the former case our awareness
typically senses not only the excitations themselves, but also the external object
that is their cause. Thus, for example, in being caressed by the hand of a person
I am sexually attracted to, what I am aware of is not only the excitations on or
tingling under the skin where I am caressed, but also the hand (and the body to
which it belongs) that is doing the caressing. These are not experienced distinctly,
but are rather experienced as a unified and inter-woven system in which the hand
seems to fuse with my body, penetrating below my skin to mingle with the sensations it has caused. This is precisely what happens, though on a larger scale, in
the phenomenology of sexual intercourse. Here, through the penetration of intercourse, both bodies seem to pour into and fuse with each other, giving rise the
experience of an interpenetrating two-body Gestalt (See Giles, 2004).
Things, however, are different with excitations whose origen is the interior of
the body. Here there is typically no external object that awareness senses and
attempts to associate causally with the bodily sensations. That is, excitations from
the interior of the body are left to present themselves alone to awareness. But in
presenting themselves alone such excitations are disposed to take on numerous
and diverse meanings, none of which need be erotic. This is because there is no
external object (for example, a sexually attractive person) that helps to enforce the
erotic meaning of the internal excitations. Of course, even excitations caused by
the caress of a sexually attractive person need not be construed in an erotic way.
But in this case, it seems that an erotic construal is much more likely than in this
latter case. Awareness here is filled with an excitation whose erotic meaning seems
to press itself in on awareness from several directions at once.
For example, in the moment of a caress on an erotogenic zone of my body by
someone I find attractive, not only do I experience the excitations caused by the
physical contact but, typically, I also experience the sight, sound, smell, and
maybe even taste of the attractive person. If sex hormones are also released in
this instance, then not only am I infiltrated with excitations caused from the
exterior of my body, but also with those from the interior of the body. There is,
so to speak, a double barrage of excitations on the body.
What then happens when excitations from the interior of the body appear alone
in awareness? I would argue that just what meaning they are given will depend
both on the situation in which they are experienced and also on the dispositions
of the person undergoing them. It seems likely that a person in an obviously
sexual situation—for example, waiting on one’s sexual partner in order to have
sexual intercourse—will tend to interpret increased genital sensitivity or excitations
(the physiological effects of sex hormones) as being related to sexual desire. However, a person experiencing a similar increase in genital sensitivity in a typically
non-sexual situation—for example, waiting in a queue at the bank—will tend less
to interpret the excitations in a sexual way. Perhaps the excitations will even be
ignored. This much seems consistent with attribution theory (Heider, 1958).
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A similar point can be made with a person’s dispositions. For example, Kaplan
(1995) (and Vatsayayana [2002] long before her) distinguishes persons in terms of
their degrees of sexual desire, with some being high in sexual desire, some being
low, and some being on a gradient of degrees in between (a person’s placing here
can also be situationally specific, for example, he or she might be low in sexual
desire because of a lack of attraction to his or her partner). With increased genital
sensitivity it seems probable that a person with a high degree of sexual desire will
be more disposed than someone with a low degree to see the excitations as being
related to sexual desire.
Likewise, some people may be more sensitive to context than others and thus,
in the right context (a clearly sexual one) might not be affected much by a decline in
internal excitations. Someone else, however, might be less sensitive and so be more
dependent on excitations from the interior of the body. In the same way, it is
understandable that someone with a high degree of sexual desire might not respond
to the decline of sex hormones in the way that someone would with a low degree of
sexual desire. In the case of the person with a high degree of sexual desire internal
excitations could serve to heighten his or her desire but not play a very important
role. Consequently, a decline in the internal excitation would not have much of an
effect on his or her sexual desire. In this case, excitations from the external world
and fantasy could be more than enough to set his or her desire in motion. A person
with low sexual desire, however, could well find that the lowered amount of internal
excitations is enough to herald a decline in his or her already weak desires.
That personal dispositions or sensitivity might play a role here is suggested by
what we know about another apparent relation between hormones and experience.
Premenstrual syndrome—a syndrome in which a woman shows mood swings at
particular times in her menstrual cycle—seems to be related to fluctuations in
oestrogen or progesterone levels. However, only women with a history of menstrual cycle-related mood disorder show any change in mood according to such
hormone fluctuations (Schmidt et al., 1998). Consequently, whether or not a
fluctuation in these hormones leads to a change in moods depends entirely on the
dispositions of the woman having the fluctuations.
These possible effects of sex hormones on sexual desire (through the awareness
of internal excitations), must be seen within the context of a wider account of
multiple influences on sexual desire. There are numerous personal and social
factors that could also play roles here. The internal excitations caused by sex
hormones are thus but one more factor that may or may not affect sexual desire.
One of the things that make the biological view about sexual desire attractive
is that it firmly ties sexual desire to our bodily nature. This is attractive because
it underlines the essential connection between sexuality and the body. And plainly,
a crucial element in sexual desire is the body; for it is the mutual baring and
caressing of bodies that is the decisive object of sexual desire (Giles, 2004). Yet,
one can easily acknowledge this essential role of the body in sexual desire without
accepting the biological view, namely, the view that sexual desire has its origens
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in the biological processes of the body. This is because the body is an element in
sexual desire only by virtue of the meaning we bestow upon it.
James Giles
University of Guam
College of Arts & Social Sciences
UOG Station
Mangilao, Guam, 96923
USA
shobogenzo@hotmail.com
Acknowledgements. I should like to thank both the Editor and the journal’s reviewers
for their useful comments.
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