In the words of sex columnist Dan Savage, technology has “put a porn studio in everyone’s pocket.” This does not mean that other, more traditional forms of pornography have been eradicated and replaced by amateur productions. Of course, porn studios still exist, and women still appear, either voluntarily or under coercion, in more produced pornographic films. But the consumption and production of pornography has fundamentally changed. Pornography has always existed, but we live in unprecedented times. The days of discussing obscenity laws are long gone. Some consider amateur pornography an essential part of the seduction process between lovers, as potential lovers often send each other “nudes” before meeting for the first time.
The current debate around pornography is largely rooted in voluntary consumption and production. For consumers, we often talk about removing the stigma surrounding sex and giving people the opportunity for sexual expression. This ranges from mundane to more “hardcore” pornographic expression, and the “destigmatizing sexual perversion” argument has become a recognized part of the public debate.
Now, if they respond this way to people throwing softballs at them, consider what happens when tougher questions arise, like, “What do we do about women who have been trafficked or forced into labor?”
On the production side, the mainstream perspective has shifted from women who may have been forced into porn (by economic circumstances or other parties) to “voluntary sex workers.” Even the language we use to describe porn production has collapsed, with cam girls and other kinds of amateur “content creators” being discussed in the same breath as professional pornographers, exotic dancers, and prostitutes. The assumption is that they all exist under the umbrella of “sex work” and that all participation is voluntary and enthusiastic. Here, stigma is attacked again and seen as the only reason sex workers suffer. I remember having a discussion with a sex-positive feminist last year. She vocally argued that the “real problem” faced by prostitutes who work mostly at truck stops is that people shame them. She argued that there is no reason for someone to feel humiliated for knocking on taxi doors to sell sex other than the sexual surveillance imposed by society.
It is a well-known fact that for these arguments to be coherent, we must acknowledge that sex is morally neutral. Sex exists somewhere between a “consumer good”, “mere labor”, and “mere bodily functions like using the toilet or eating”. In fact, the latter is another commonly cited analogy. Many of us eat regularly at fast food restaurants like McDonald’s, but that in no way takes away the specialness of cooking a meal for yourself and your loved ones at home. Or, to put it another way, some people like to cook for themselves, while others are comfortable cooking for strangers.
A third commonly cited analogy deals more specifically with work. It goes like this: Any work poses emotional, physical, and mental challenges. So why is sex work under special scrutiny? No matter how sex is explained, its proponents vehemently deny that there exists a world in which sexual intercourse could have any intrinsic meaning or value. For them, the idea that sex is sacred in itself is considered an outrageous idea. But a curious paradox emerges: the very people who claim that sex is morally neutral also shout that rape is one of the worst crimes. In a worldview that promotes criminal rehabilitation, sexual crimes are vaguely defined and seem to mean permanent banishment from society. But if sex is morally neutral, why this special focus?
The answer, they say, is that it would violate the individual’s consent. Any If the crime is a violation of consent, then why the specific focus on sex? One cannot help but wonder whether this is an incoherent argument, or whether further investigation would suggest that sex is a kind of property that can be bartered, sold, or given away for free, but can never be stolen. But it would still at least suggest that sex is a valuable property. This view ultimately collapses on itself.
Another strange thing that’s missing from the advocacy debate around porn production, how empowering it is, is the very real impact of the labor. “Sex work is work” doesn’t change until you get into the details of what that means. Even morally neutral arguments fade away in the public conversation, often discounted under the banner of “it’s just a stigma.”
Let’s take them at their word here. Producing porn is not morally wrong. Producing porn is not morally wrong. You can voluntarily engage in and enjoy porn. But what about the discussion of the potential emotional and psychological impacts of people analyzing your body with the same precision as buying any other consumer product? Just as we carefully examine a new car or cell phone, consumers of sex work of any kind, not just porn, do the same to women’s bodies. Acne and stretch marks suddenly catch the critics’ eye. Is the solution here to never read reviews of your work? What if it starts to affect your income? What are the psychological impacts of knowing that your appearance is “worth” $2.50 a month while other women are “worth” thousands of dollars?
Any questioning is deemed “anti-sex work” and quickly silenced. Some would argue that questioning is a slippery slope, opening the door to people who don’t want sex work to exist, or at least, who don’t want it to exist to this extent. But how strong is your position to begin with if it can be so easily weakened by questions that accept your premise? How powerful can it be, knowing that you’ll be quickly silenced if even the slightest hint of negativity leaves the narrative that pornographers are a victim class?
Now, if they respond this way to people throwing softballs at them, consider what would happen if a tougher question like, “What do we do about trafficked and coerced women?” pops up.
This is a system that only works if all the flaws are hidden.
