Rethinking sex trafficking laws

RUSHTON PARAY

AS WE observe Sexual Abuse Awareness Month, the conversation must extend beyond individual cases to the wider structures that enable sexual exploitation. The recent charges against Sean “P Diddy” Combs have reignited public discourse on consent, coercion, and power dynamics – especially in elite environments like entertainment, politics, and business. While the legal process around Combs continues, his case reflects broader issues in sex trafficking law and policy.

Sex trafficking is no longer confined to the stereotypical image of physical abduction or violence. Increasingly, it takes subtler forms: psychological manipulation, economic control, emotional grooming, and abuse of authority. And those in power – whether celebrities, CEOs, or corrupt politicians – are too often the ones creating or enabling these conditions. Existing laws are outdated. Reform is overdue.

Currently, most sex trafficking laws define coercion narrowly – typically involving physical force, threats, or fraud. This limited view excludes many real-life situations where people are pressured into sex acts through non-violent means.

In the entertainment industry, for example, a manager or producer might use their influence over someone’s career to demand sex. In politics, an official may use state resources or job security to control vulnerable individuals. These scenarios involve no physical force, but the pressure is undeniable. Victims comply not out of free will, but out of fear of losing their income, safety, or social standing.

Legal reforms must reflect this. Coercion should include psychological manipulation, blackmail, threats to livelihood, and misuse of authority. A person shouldn’t need to be beaten or locked in a room to be recognised as trafficked. If their freedom to say "no" is meaningfully taken away, that’s coercion.

Consent is often misunderstood in legal contexts. Many believe if someone says “yes,” that’s the end of the discussion. But in cases involving power imbalances – employer and employee, politician and constituent, artist and agent – consent becomes murky. Saying “yes” under pressure is not real consent.

Take a young intern working under a powerful minister. If she agrees to a sexual encounter fearing she may lose her job, her scholarship, or her safety, that’s not voluntary. The law must treat this for what it is: exploitation.

Sex trafficking legislation should incorporate clearer standards around consent under power imbalances. A “yes” extracted through pressure, manipulation, or fear must not shield abusers from accountability.

Many traffickers don’t use physical force – they use dependency. Victims may rely on them for housing, money, or emotional support. This is common in both high-society abuse and street-level trafficking. In some celebrity cases, victims are kept in lavish homes or flown around the world, but remain under control because they’re financially or emotionally trapped.

Corrupt politicians are not exempt. There have been quiet allegations in multiple countries, including our own, of officials using state contracts, housing grants, or public appointments to manipulate young women and men into sexual arrangements. These individuals may appear willing, but their dependence removes any real choice. Future laws must reflect this.

Grooming is another under-recognised form of trafficking. Here, abusers gain the trust of victims, offer mentorship or career advancement, then slowly escalate to exploitation. This is especially common with youth or those new to elite environments.

It’s difficult to prosecute under current frameworks because there is no obvious violence or fraud. But grooming is calculated. It’s predatory. And it’s widespread in entertainment, politics, and even religious institutions. Laws should define grooming patterns and treat them as part of trafficking behaviour – especially where the result is repeated sexual exploitation.

Sex trafficking isn’t just about the direct abuser. It’s about everyone who looks the other way. Managers, agents, handlers, corporate executives, and, yes, public officials who facilitate abuse or fail to act when they suspect it are part of the problem.

In many high-profile cases, others knew what was happening but remained silent – either to protect their income, their boss, or their political alliances. This complicity allows abusers to continue unchecked.

Laws must evolve to punish facilitation and deliberate inaction. Political parties, government agencies, and corporations that knowingly protect abusers must face consequences. Ignorance should not be a shield.

We must also confront the role of corrupt politicians. Those in public office often operate behind layers of authority, privilege, and legal immunity. Some use state power – like police protection, government housing, or discretionary funding – to control and exploit vulnerable people.

In TT and across the Caribbean, there are whispered stories – many credible – about officials grooming and exploiting constituents, assistants, or party supporters. Victims often stay silent due to fear of backlash, reputational damage, or losing scarce opportunities.

Sex trafficking law should recognise this type of institutional abuse. Offenders in positions of public trust must face enhanced penalties. Office should not be a shield for exploitation.

Finally, with the rise of digital platforms, traffickers now recruit and exploit through social media, encrypted apps, and fake job offers. Victims are often lured with the promise of modelling work, scholarships, or political internships.

Laws must impose clear responsibilities on tech platforms to detect and remove trafficking content. Governments should also be able to prosecute digital facilitators – those who use chat rooms or encrypted messages to arrange sexual exploitation.

Sexual Abuse Awareness Month is a time to move past slogans and get serious about reform. We need a sex trafficking law that reflects real-world abuse – not just textbook definitions. We need it to cover emotional coercion, power imbalance, grooming, and institutional complicity.

Cases like Sean Combs’s may dominate headlines, but they are part of a larger pattern. From record labels to political offices, from boardrooms to backrooms, exploitation thrives in systems that protect the powerful and silence the vulnerable.

Reform must start with admitting this truth. Then it must rewrite the law to meet it.

Rushton Paray is the MP for Mayaro