Catherine Hakim, a British social scientist, refers to "erotic capital" as the fourth personal asset. The first three are economic capital (money, wealth), human capital (expertise, education, intelligence) and social capital (slightly ill-defined networking and influencing capability, or "who you know"). Your reviewer wouldn't mind betting that erotic capital might have been the author's first choice of book title, but that second thoughts prevailed.
Hakim's case is that erotic capital is not efficiently used. And that when it is used then various groups set out to demean and devalue it, out of self-interest (patriarchal interests, she often just says "men"), or out of wrong-headedness (muddled feminism, which Hakim charges with oppression almost as much as she does patriarchy). But also it is because it is a complex asset, so she gives it a clear definition: beauty, sex-appeal, social skills, charm and charisma. Men and women both possess these, but women have more of them than men. This is objective by the way, a majority of both genders say so in every measurement taken anywhere.
In economics, capital is something that is capable of generating cash flows without depleting itself. In other words, it adds value. The author doesn't shy from the implicit demand that her own term thereby places on erotic capital. It adds value too, because it can be converted into monetary gain in the labour market and in commerce. Not just in the forward (marriage) and spot (now) markets for sex, and not just in the entertainment business. But in sectors where many would presume it counts for nothing, like banking, management, law. Good looking barristers who are slick presenters win more cases and more repeat business. Tall, well-dressed corporate financeers (either gender) scoop the top deals and convert them to bigger payoffs to clients. Managers who know the value of smiling have more productive teams and more profitable companies.
This has been known, suspected, and measured quite widely in recent years. But it has been systematically de-valued, and hindered from accruing the free-market return to its holders. Beauty is, after all, only skin deep. But 'so what?' says the author. Intelligence is only brain deep. Networking resources are hardly part of anyone's soul either. So where does this apparent moral objection get its validity? She has a decent point, and it is not her only one. There are, she says, myriad ways in which Gwen Guthrie's 1986 lyric: "No romance without finance" can, and should be applied. (For various adaptations beyond romance)
In this deliberate suppression of added value capture from erotic capital, women fare worse than men. Thus, although overwhelming evidence confirms that the lioness's share of it is held by females, it is males who are more able to convert it to pay the rent. This is wrought by an unholy alliance between patriarchy and radical feminism. In the case of male suppression, it is because of a permanent excess demand for, well, sex. Which "men have always had to pay for", in aggregate, in one way or another. So this is price suppression plain and simple. In the case of feminism, it is more akin to outright denial, in an incorrect opposition to essentialism (the stance that there are no special assets or skills more applicable to one gender). Much feminist theory thus ends up reinforcing the partiarchal perspective it ostensibly opposes. Both groupings have an unfair hostility to female ownership and use of this fourth asset. Hakim finds this bias particularly insidious because it simultaneously criticises women for daring to develop or deploy erotic capital, and does not reward them when they do.
Part of the problem here is that women don't ask for a better deal, in much the same way as they ask less (than men) for promotion or higher remuneration. The remainder, it is not clear from where it comes beyond the destinations of blame the author has already revealed. But it doesn't appear likely that anyone other than motivated individuals will correct the deficiencies in the system. Catherine Hakim does not add a manifesto for change in this book. That's just as well for this reviewer, who is not so keen on reading calls to action. She was grateful for several eye-openers in a meticulously referenced volume, that has a novel approach to it's subject.
Hakim's case is that erotic capital is not efficiently used. And that when it is used then various groups set out to demean and devalue it, out of self-interest (patriarchal interests, she often just says "men"), or out of wrong-headedness (muddled feminism, which Hakim charges with oppression almost as much as she does patriarchy). But also it is because it is a complex asset, so she gives it a clear definition: beauty, sex-appeal, social skills, charm and charisma. Men and women both possess these, but women have more of them than men. This is objective by the way, a majority of both genders say so in every measurement taken anywhere.
In economics, capital is something that is capable of generating cash flows without depleting itself. In other words, it adds value. The author doesn't shy from the implicit demand that her own term thereby places on erotic capital. It adds value too, because it can be converted into monetary gain in the labour market and in commerce. Not just in the forward (marriage) and spot (now) markets for sex, and not just in the entertainment business. But in sectors where many would presume it counts for nothing, like banking, management, law. Good looking barristers who are slick presenters win more cases and more repeat business. Tall, well-dressed corporate financeers (either gender) scoop the top deals and convert them to bigger payoffs to clients. Managers who know the value of smiling have more productive teams and more profitable companies.
This has been known, suspected, and measured quite widely in recent years. But it has been systematically de-valued, and hindered from accruing the free-market return to its holders. Beauty is, after all, only skin deep. But 'so what?' says the author. Intelligence is only brain deep. Networking resources are hardly part of anyone's soul either. So where does this apparent moral objection get its validity? She has a decent point, and it is not her only one. There are, she says, myriad ways in which Gwen Guthrie's 1986 lyric: "No romance without finance" can, and should be applied. (For various adaptations beyond romance)
In this deliberate suppression of added value capture from erotic capital, women fare worse than men. Thus, although overwhelming evidence confirms that the lioness's share of it is held by females, it is males who are more able to convert it to pay the rent. This is wrought by an unholy alliance between patriarchy and radical feminism. In the case of male suppression, it is because of a permanent excess demand for, well, sex. Which "men have always had to pay for", in aggregate, in one way or another. So this is price suppression plain and simple. In the case of feminism, it is more akin to outright denial, in an incorrect opposition to essentialism (the stance that there are no special assets or skills more applicable to one gender). Much feminist theory thus ends up reinforcing the partiarchal perspective it ostensibly opposes. Both groupings have an unfair hostility to female ownership and use of this fourth asset. Hakim finds this bias particularly insidious because it simultaneously criticises women for daring to develop or deploy erotic capital, and does not reward them when they do.
Part of the problem here is that women don't ask for a better deal, in much the same way as they ask less (than men) for promotion or higher remuneration. The remainder, it is not clear from where it comes beyond the destinations of blame the author has already revealed. But it doesn't appear likely that anyone other than motivated individuals will correct the deficiencies in the system. Catherine Hakim does not add a manifesto for change in this book. That's just as well for this reviewer, who is not so keen on reading calls to action. She was grateful for several eye-openers in a meticulously referenced volume, that has a novel approach to it's subject.