Rebecca Whisnant has written this chapter for a new book on pornography entitled ‘Everyday Pornography’.
It starts:
“in contemporary mainstream pornography marketed to heterosexual men, hostile and humiliating acts against women are commonplace. Consumers of such pornography routinely see women treated in ways that most people would neither choose for themselves nor accept for those they care about. While some of these consumers may be sociopaths or utterly unregenerate misogynists, I assume that the majority are neither. Thus, many consumers must experience ethical qualms about at least some of the pornography they encounter and about themselves in so far as they enjoy such material. These qualms pose a threat to their continued enjoyment of pornography. Thus, if they are to continue . . . they must find ways to silence their ethical concerns. They must, in effect, be groomed to accept sexual dominance and sadism against women.”
In a culture which normalizes male sexual aggression against females in a variety of contexts, the typical consumer is ‘pre-groomed’ to accept such aggression even before he starts to use pornography. Rebecca argues, however, that pornography viewers undergo further and more specific grooming as they acclimate to progressively rougher materials.
She suggests that each pornography consumer embarks upon their porn use with their own boundaries in place – a kind of simple ethic – such as I don’t view ‘anything that involves aggression’ or ‘certainly not children’ and so on. Whatever these initial boundaries are, she says, they are likely to gradually erode over time due to a process of desensitization and escalation. The kinds of pornography viewed initially will start to seem boring and he will look for something with more ‘charge’.
So as pornography use continues, he is likely to be drawn to material that crosses his own initial boundaries. He will encounter portrayals of material that he himself regards as ‘crossing that line’, as unethical or abusive. But if it arouses, that may be disturbing. It reflects back on identify, values and self-image. What kind of person am I if I now look at this?
Whisnant draws on theories which describe psychological processes whereby people can adjust their beliefs and perceptions in order to rationalize behaving in a way that they would otherwise accept as wrong. One mechanism of ‘moral disengagement’ is to minimize behaviour by comparing with men who are thought to be worse. The consumer defines as objectionable or abusive some kinds of pornography that he does not like to use, and what he does use therefore appears to him to be benign in comparison. Her research involved analysis of online discussion rooms. Terms such as ‘misogyny’, ‘abuse’ and ‘brutality’ as used to describe acts that the consumer does not enjoy while what he enjoys are termed, hot, ‘rough sex’ or ‘hard-core’. This may be reinforced suggests Whisnant by the way a range of materials a constantly showers in on websites, with thumbnails and links. The choice to click on something less extreme, can give the user a temporary sense of moral superiority. Whatever he chooses, he’s not so bad as there is worse out there.
She also refers to social-psychological theories that explain how ordinary people acclimatize to wrong-doing. A consistent finding in this body of research is the importance of ‘diminished responsibility’ that is, of not seeing oneself directly connected to the harmful effects of one’s actions. Responsibility is either displaced on to others (my partner isn’t having sex with me, so she makes me have to look elsewhere) or diffused through a larger group or network (everyone does it, it’s just guys’ stuff.) One easy way for a porn viewer to displace responsibility is that whatever the woman experienced, however she was treated in the material he is masturbating to – it was not directly his doing. He did not do it and he is not doing it now. By placing blame on the producers he can ignore his own complicity and ignore any uncomfortable questions about his own arousal to such material. Diffused responsibility allows the consumer to see himself as having almost none, or at most, only the tiniest share of responsibility – ‘it’s not my fault, it’s there anyway, it would happen anyway, with or without my viewing.’
For male consumers of porn the sense of being one of a whole network of users who can be viewed in chat rooms, discussion forums and the like is reassuring suggests Whisnant. And so although the consumption is entirely isolated and private, he is constantly reminded that there are huge numbers of men out there all doing the same thing. He’s just being one of the guys, so there’s nothing wrong. He can remain anonymous and hidden; but they are all in this together.
A key mechanism, however, of moral disengagement is to dehumanize the individuals are being harmed. Pornography’s dehumanization of women is one of feminism’s strongest criticisms. Pornography labels women in degrading and dehumanizing ways. Along with these labels the text seeks to emphasise how women love and are ‘really in to it’ often in direct contradiction to the facial expressions and the visual evidence. Thus men learn to turn off their genuine, feeling, human responses to what the visual evidence tells them and allow the commentator to know better than he does. Pornography’s near constant message is that whatever is being done, the woman wants it and likes it. This serves to deflect the viewer’s attention from asking why he wants to see this; after all it’s what she wants. Whisnant’s analysis of the viewers’ comments shows that most are convinced that the women truly enjoy much of what they are doing and are confident that they can tell which ones. Other comments, however, may express some irritation at acting and the fakeness of some responses. This highlights the obvious contradiction – while men often claim that porn is ‘only a bit of fantasy’, to diminish its possible impact in their lives and to try to convince themselves that they have control over their viewing habits, nevertheless they want it to be real for the women they watch.
Whisnant writes that what underlies this, then, is the consumer’s own identity. The central message is that the consumer can be a ‘real man’. It caters to an anxious masculinity. Enjoying porn, and daring to go further, to enjoy more extreme porn is a marker of masculinity. Often the message is that porn is an antidote to men who see themselves as controlled and emasculated by women. Dominance against women is both a mark and an entitlement of manhood. Vicarious experience of control over women is allowed, as this is merely ‘fantasy’ in which the woman herself revels, so, it’s OK, ‘you are not a monster’.
Any porn viewer who wishes to maintain a tolerable self-image must maintain a clear boundary between himself and those men he considers morally objectionable. So while identifying with the men on screen in order to enter the action and become aroused, the man may need to carefully manage his own identification with these men – and so they are often half viewable, hidden or masked. By identifying with a half hidden man, the male consumer is protected.
So, suggests Rebecca Whisnant, male porn viewers navigate the boundary between man and monster in a variety of ways. But as the porn habits escalate these rationalizations become more difficult to sustain. What happens then, she suggests is a fragmentation of identity in to Jekyll and Hyde, to manage the conflict between trying to maintain a self-identity as decent people and their continued use of material that goes against those standards. The consumer can create a second sense of self – often aided by the titles of porn sites and the texts that accompany them.
The pornography industry thus damages its consumers’ moral personalities at every turn by hooking them on to material that undermines their self-respect and integrity. It’s done knowingly by an industry that recognizes in order to retain its paying customers it must continually ramp up. Ultimately, any kind of moral concern is snuffed out, with texts accompanying porn that urge the viewer to have no empathy for others. This is ruthless exploitation in order to pick his pocket.
Whisnant concludes the chapter, however, by saying ‘consumers are far from passive victims in the process . . . By ignoring his qualms, tuning in to the industry’s legitimizing messages and stifling his capacities for empathy and critical reflection, he has acquiesced and co-operated in his own ethical deterioration’.
And her final sentence – ‘. . . the good news is that what women and girls need from male pornography consumers – that they resist the industry’s grooming and reclaim their own humanity – is also the men’s own best hope for healing, connection and moral regeneration.’
It is a well-researched piece of writing, carefully backed up by psychological theories. I recommend the whole book of which this is just one chapter. There are moving chapters by Robert Jensen, Gail Dines among many others. The editor Karen Boyle in her final epilogue thanks the reader for ‘sticking with it’ as it is indeed a difficult read in places. She wonders sometimes, as I do often, whether it wouldn’t sometimes be easier and less emotionally draining just not to know this stuff.
Karen Boyle (Ed.) (2010) Everyday Pornography. Routledge.
No related posts.
anti-porn men discussing ideas from 'Everyday Pornography':… http://fb.me/PZuialTn
Interesting read on porn and 'diminished responsibility' – The grooming of male pornography consumers: http://trunc.it/e36sk
Thank you for this article.
It is very interesting and shows exactly the process men undergo watching porn.
I definitely agree that it would be better if you did not know all this stuff and have never seen it.
I guess it is quite easy for a person to put up mental barriers about what they do. Though I’m pretty sure this is not exclusive to porn. This happens in war, unpleasant lines of work Everyone compartmentalizes, which is why I could “watch and get off” on rape porn (animated or otherwise [puts up flame shield] since I get aroused so I have to rub one off) while still feeling bad for rape victims in fiction(that have been fleshed out as proper characters in the story as I in both life and hobbies only care about close relatives or people whom I developed emotional bonds)and in real life (one cannot describe the feelings of disgust when I’ve read about Junko Furuta and etc (although I prefer to release unpleasant emotions (empathy and the resulting sadness is quite unpleasant so I’d rather not think about it) in my games as catharsis where there is a proper resolution and where you are not powerless to affect closure and a proper resolution. However, if I was called to serve on a jury, I would have no doubt that I would still be impartial and sympathetic so compartmentalization is not totally bad. The issue of being Dr. Jekyll/ Mr. Hyde would not be that bad if the Dr. Jekyll can properly control Hyde (such as in my case).
Re comparmentalisation – I suggest you read ElkBallet’s very insightful blog piece ‘comparmentalization means you are a sociopath’ -
Thank you, Laurel. People who compartmentalize so effectively scare me. What else are they going to do while they have their empathy ‘turned off’?
And what happens when it can never be turned back on again?
Wow, it does put things in a new light though it is slightly discomforting that just because I compartmentalize, I’m a sociopath.
I think its just reflex to either compartmentalize and repress things that are unpleasant. Besides, I’m more inclined to see this as a sign of mental immaturity, as opposed to sociopathy. I mean, what do immature people do, they ignore their own demons/flaws and/or unable face a serious/emotional/personal issue and that is essentially what people who are compartmentalizing are doing. Which is why I don’t agree that compartmnetalizing is as unhealthy as Elkballet makes it. I mean I don’t hate women (I don’t hate my mother, my female relatives, and friends). Its just that I don’t “care” about people who I have little attachment to and to empathize with them would be very uncomfortable (for example, in porn if I think about some of the things that might be true to some extent about the adult entertainment industry, to which I might add, I would never had given a second thought about until I played Crescendo and gotten attached to Yuka who basically encompasses almost all the broken bird tropes & the porn actresses come from abused pasts talking points anti porn people hawk). So in order to cope, I have to think that I should only feel bad for Yuka because I got to know her in the story and should not feel sorry for complete strangers that I only watch on the computer. The same way I could ignore visibly crippled beggars and homeless persons on the street without even feeling a twinge of empathy, because I’ve decided its not worth me feeling bad about them especially when I’m not in a position to feasibly help them.
Again, I do think Elkballet’s language is quite strong (possibly exaggerated) in this case. And I don’t agree with her points saying that its because we [I] compartmentalize we are saying a that a group of women are whores/not human.
You can’t help them by just not watching it(only if everybody stopped which is quite impossible) but wouldnt it feel better to not be a part of it?
Maybe its time to turn your empathy-button on again? Or do you like being a person who does things against own values?
I agree, Sirf Palot, it is not possible to feel genuine emotional empathy for everyone we come across – although I think we can always try to imagine and to intellectually identify with people. But socially we have developed other ways of ensuring those who are vulnerable, weaker and so on, are not hurt in any way – these are the institutional structures of law, or moral values, of liberal social conscience – or whatever you give priority to – that operate to uphold certain forms of collective behaviour which prevent harm to others and try to even out disadvantage, uneven distribution of power and so on. These structures are there to ensure that highly individualistic and self-serving attitudes cannot dominate – - . All I read in your message is me, me, me – -
Now, this is extremely interesting stuff!
I myself compartmentalize by viewing straight porn as a feminist, even though I am a bisexual man. I say to myself: My God, who are the dumb brutes who are content with this crap? I sit there, cock in hand, desperately wanting there to be some chemistry between the man and woman, some erotic play in which the woman takes the lead, some sheepish looks and male vulnerability, but all I get is boring, industrial pounding, which yes often is so degrading and objectifying to the woman that it’s a real turn-off.
Man, my sensibilities are sooo superior to the men who think this is the hottest stuff.
The rape scenes in porn are really ridiculous. If raping a cold lifeless fish who ends up loving it is what they call rape, yes then it is, but that’s not rape to me. As a man I don’t feel bad for indulging in the odd rape scene, women’s romantic fiction are full of them. (Yes, compartmentalizing again.) Literary rape scenes from women’s fiction turn me on way more than any online rape videos I’ve ever seen. The rape scenes in Ken Follett’s “The Pillars of the Earth” were among my favourite masturbation fantasies in my teens, but so were also the consensual sex scenes in it.
Another way to compartmentalize is to never ever pay for porn. And to be jealous of the porn actors who actually can sell the mere sight of their bodies for moeny.
Glad to see pornography FINALLY being questioned
ALSO- WTF to the comments above: Shropshire Lad, dude you’re missing the point of everything
Why? Am I confusing you because I’m able to see things from multiple points of view?
What is the point of everything, RJ?
I thought Shopshire’s post was interesting. I don’t want to ruin a witty and insightful post by converting it into dull prose. Maybe you should read it again.
I often wonder about this while I’m masturbating
Often if I’ve been away from porn for a little while, I resist the more raunchy stuff, and then give in to the humiliation of being a hopeless pervert. I’m not excited by degradation of women, though, quite the contrary…I am more excited by strong, free women.
The same principles are used in military training–where men identify as part of a group in order to do things that would otherwise be unacceptable.
I’ve experienced a tremendous “upsurge” in masturbation since I’ve joined groups that support it.
From Jekyll to Hyde: The grooming of male #pornography consumers http://bit.ly/hMBkM2 #porn #misogyny #vaw
RT @abolitionEVE: From Jekyll to Hyde: The grooming of male #pornography consumers http://bit.ly/hMBkM2 #porn #misogyny #vaw
Grooming of male pornography consumers http://t.co/hOhLVty
RT @MenEndViolence: Grooming of male pornography consumers http://t.co/hOhLVty
RT @abolitionEVE: From Jekyll to Hyde: The grooming of male #pornography consumers http://bit.ly/hMBkM2 #porn #misogyny #vaw
@ Sirf_Palot
Not being able to care about people you dont know sounds like a lack of empathy to me. I think its an important point of the article – not being able to see the women in porn videos as human beings. Its easy to care about your friends and family, empathy is about seeing how all humans are like them
Well the thing is, the problem with “internet” pornography is that fact that there are 2-3 layers of anonymity and the fact that I pirate my porn (and thus, I’m technically not contributing to the industry). In addition, the fact that one feels like they are powerless to affect some sort of change does contribute to the thinking about why I should deprive myself of this form of pleasure when its not going to change things (same thing for beggars and helping strangers in distress)
Although lately, I felt like I should really stop watching the live action stuff if I was to be consistent in my feelings about Yuka from Crescendo.
Long story short,in the novel Yuka comes from a very tragic background (similar to how some anti-porn activists describe how some women end up in porn). The bad end for the game has the protag “pay and use her” and she ends up being a Japanese Adult Vid star. Afterwards I just felt like a total douche, especially when you play the good end. And thus to be consistent with the strong feelings of empathy with a fictional character, I must also hold myself to the same standard when dealing with real people in those situations, which lead me to start weaning myself off of real porn. Ironic right, porn game made me stop watching real porn (or skewed priorities or morals, take your pick).
An addendum, empathy in those situations is easy to suppress, especially when it makes one feel bad, but you’re unable to realistically remedy the situation. Therefore, you end up feeling bad, for “no reason/result”.
Yep – I compartmentalized. I did just about everything Whisnant said. I am not a sociopath. I can’t help but empathise. But something flipped my empathy switch.
How could I watch violent, degrading, undignified porn? I am in a very fulfilling marriage (25 yrs), with a partner I really love and with children I adore. I would be ashamed if I ever caused anyone intentional pain (physical or emotional). I would never dream of making unwanted sexual advances, let alone forcing a woman to anything she did not want to do.
Yet I could enjoy the fantasy of painful sex. My descent into violent porn was like the frog that stays in slowly warming water. The key – I was happy to believe that women in porn were consenting, reasonably remunerated and not in real pain.
Then I watched a porn clip that changed my mind. Suddenly I could not ignore the extreme pain someone went through to feed my sexual deviancy. The more I reflected, the more I read – the more my carefully conserved self-serving beliefs disintegrated.
Maybe not all porn is toxic, maybe not all porn use is dysfunctional, but I foreswore porn. How easily I lost my humanity. How long will it take me to reclaim it?
While I’m broadly in sympathy with this, and think it’s a useful description of a particular dynamic of desensitisation, my inner Laurent Berlant is whispering in my ear that there’s something a bit odd about assuming that moral consistency is the normal human state and that inconsistency is a symptom of degradation or incipient sociopathy.
I would suggest that the problem with porn is not so much that it exposes its consumers to things that are ab-normal with respect to their own conscious standards, but that it establishes its own normativity, its own rigid template of roles and behaviours, and that it does so for essentially mercenary reasons.
A lot of human culture involves the enjoyment, more or less clandestine and disavowable, of cruel, violent, obsessive or otherwise socially unacceptable passions: crime fiction, horror movies, fairy tales, paintings of martyred saints and so on. Contemporary explorations of the dangerous and illicit usually conjure the monster from its box, let it romp around on stage for a bit, then put it safely away again. We’re not good at dealing with a morally ambiguous cosmos; we compartmentalise, and this compartmentalisation has become culturally normal for us.
Porn fits perfectly into this world, plays entirely by its rules (for all its fake “outlaw” credentials), but at the same time is relatively unusual in that it tries to make the box seem like an attractive place to live, to make its consumers resent their reality for being larger and more complicated than its reality. Porn doesn’t really tolerate moral inconsistency or ambiguity either; it simply ratifies the “forbidden” flip-side of our rather timid consumerist enjoyments.
One of the things I’ve always liked about Andrea Dworkin is that she never imagined that a sexuality free of patriarchal domination and commercial exploitation would be *safe*: she felt that sex was big enough and bad enough to call on the full humanity of both men and women, and that the task of constructing sexual integrity was a daunting and thrilling one. She hated porn because it was ugly, deceitful, misogynist and cruelly destructive; but also because it was *in the way*, because it thwarted our attempts to imagine something stronger, wiser and more courageous.
I wonder, therefore, about the usefulness of attacks on porn that play up its morally dangerous and corrupting qualities, that suggest implicitly that we should cling to safety and purity. Much porn is vicious, and it can be vile, but it offers its own securities, its own consolations and imaginary solutions: it has its own privileged place among the mental fetters of our culture, and only in its own imagination is it a wild and lawless force assailing that culture from without.