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1 Introduction
Few topics are quite as controversial as sex work and pornography. Over the last few decades, concerns about pornographyâs psychological, relational, and sociocultural ramifications have entered mainstream debates. The advent of the Internet has increased pornographyâs accessibility, affordability, and public visibility (Paasonen, 2014) and, in turn, its social and cultural impact. Pornography is now a major subject for discussion in settings ranging from legislative assemblies to daytime talk shows to party conversations and to academic discussions. Regardless of oneâs personal stance toward pornography, the mainstream pornography industry is a key player in both reflecting and (re)shaping our understandings of gender, sexuality, and intimate relationships.
Pornography is also a particularly fascinating sociological phenomenon, as few topics have entered such a long-standing academic and political stalemate, albeit punctuated by moments of explosive debate (Williams, 2014). Despite its popular significance and controversial nature, pornographyâits nature, its use, its effects, and the industry itselfâremains relatively under-examined by the scholarly community and in particular by sociologists. This may partly be the result of the stigma often linked with studying sexuality in general and âdeviantâ sexuality more specifically, with some scholars still being worried that they will become associated with the topic of their study. But it may also be the result of intellectual elitismâthe sense that this is not a serious or important enough subject of research. Such elitism might lead to an apprehension by social scientists who wish to study pornography, as they may worry that serious mainstream journals would not be willing to consider their work and social science departments would not offer positions or promotion for those studying such a topic, particularly if they express controversial positions about it.
A cursory overview of both public and academic discussions of and writings on pornography reveals that they have mostly focused on pornographyâs effects, especially on adolescents and youth. Such a review also highlights concerns about both an assumed increase in violent and degrading content over time and an increased demand among (often male) viewers for aggressive and degrading content. Our main contention in this book is that many of these prevailing arguments about the pornography industry, its use, and its effects are primarily ideological and are not supported by systematic empirical research. As such, the field is a breeding ground for decisive ideological statements, which are all too often untested and remain unsubstantiated by rigorous empirical research.
In particular, we identify a number of notable weaknesses in both writings that are critical of the pornography industry and those that support it. Much of the work from both sides remains theoretical or anecdotal, without sound empirical evidence based on research. Some of the studies that do adopt an empirical approach often suffer from loosely defined conceptual definitions, questionable sampling, small sample sizes, and/or selective and biased analyses that are not reflective of the broader industry (e.g. studies that focus on niche or âextremeâ materials). All too often, the ideological positions of researchers, journalists, or others writing about the pornography industry, and specifically about aggression therein, greatly influence the theories and facts that they choose to cite, as well as their methodological choices in studying this field.
These shortcomings highlight the need for additional systematic empirical research on aggression in pornography. More specifically, this book examines the validity of claims about temporal trends in aggression, the associations between performersâ gender, race, and sexual orientation and aggression in pornography, and the perceptions and preferences of both men and women who regularly watch pornography online. We take another look at some of the most powerful claims and frequently cited narratives about mainstream online pornography and present novel empirical evidence to shed new light on pornography in the 21st century.
Why did we write this book?
Our main goal in writing this book is to offer a systematic empirical analysis of some of the main contentions about pornography, and in particular the role of aggression and pleasure in pornography. A deeper empirical understanding of pornography today is important because pornography plays a significant role in many peopleâs desires, fantasies, sexual relationships, and identities. Pornography also provides a fruitful avenue for the exploration of issues such as censorship, freedom of speech, and various ethical issues pertaining to human sexuality. However, we still know surprisingly little about the content of materials produced by this multi-billion dollar global industry, the ways in which these materials are consumed, and how all this affects peopleâs intimate lives, sexual tastes, desires, and identities (Comella, 2013). Indeed, despite pornographyâs central place in both academic and public discussions, these discussions often fail to engage with empirical evidence and all too often involve moral judgments, relying on selective sampling and the generalization of anecdotes, which are presented as conclusive evidence, while consistently ignoring counterevidence (Weitzer, 2009). In particular, we still lack sound and timely empirical research on the prevalence, expressions, and viewer-perceptions of aggression, pleasure, and affection within the pornography industry.
While some scholars and activists who have been writing about pornography since the so-called sex wars of the 1980s have been carefully considering new trends and evidence, infusing their claims with more nuance, others have dug in their heels. Often motivated by firm ideological convictions, these writers and speakers appear determined to either vilify or venerate pornography, leaving little room for nuance and shades of gray. Claims by anti-pornography scholars mostly focus on rates of violence against women, misogyny, and sexual addictions. Conversely, the claims from the opposing camp emphasize womenâs right to participate in sex work, sexual empowerment and liberation for both men and women, the exploration of various sexual practices and identities, and freedom of expression.
To further complicate matters, some anti-pornography organizations have accused notable pornography scholars, en masse, in holding favorable positions toward pornography (Sociology Lens, 2013) and in absolving the industry of its abusive nature. Such accusations are likely responsible, at least in part, for the political and academic impasse characterizing this research area, as scholars of varying stances are hesitant to conduct and communicate research, fearing that they will be judged by others or identified as anti-feminist supporters of pornography and sexual abuse.
As sociologists, we are trained to look for the broader patterns underlying the conversations we hear in classrooms, coffee shops, and newsrooms. We seek to decipher the messages we receive from peers and media and the ways in which societies shape and reflect life arenas, including identities, relationships, and sexuality. While we fully recognize that our personal and social identities, life experiences, and worldviews impact how we see the world and what we choose to study as researchers, thus precluding âtrueâ objectivity, we nevertheless aim to sift through the ânoiseâ often created in the fray of debates surrounding controversial topics. In order to effectively do so, we need to not only see what the data are showing us but also truly listen to what people are saying and respect their framing of and knowledge about their experiences, rather than merely rely on our own preconceptions.
In the context of this book, adopting such an approach entails thinking about content analyses more inductively, being aware of the potential biases in pre-formed categories and coding schemes, and being willing to consider a wider variety of definitions for controversial terms. It also entailed approaching our qualitative interviews with open minds, seeking to listen to peopleâs opinions and experiences without judgment, and doing our best to create a space in which participants feel comfortable sharing details about topics as private as pornography use, sexual behaviors, fantasies, and desires.
In this book we seek to deepen our understanding and gain greater clarity on this fascinating social and cultural phenomenon. We join a growing tendency among researchers of sex work and pornography to adopt more careful, evidence-based approaches to studying pornography, its contents, and its potential effects, while dispelling monolithic, reductive, or inaccurate arguments concerning pornographic material and its consumption (see, for example, Klaassen & Peter, 2015; Lim, Carrotte, & Hellard, 2016; McKee, 2015; Rissel et al., 2017; Weitzer, 2005, 2009, 2010, 2011). Our motivation is not only rooted in a sociological inclination to dig deeper when faced with seemingly intractable debates but also in the desire to create dialogue rather than divisiveness and to explore and unpack what some may avoid or quickly dismiss. In sum, we aim to move beyond the âtired binaryâ (Juffer, 1998), in which pornography is a symbol of either sexual violence or sexual liberation. In doing this, we heed the advice of Linda Williams (2014), when recently articulating the importance of the newly founded journal Porn Studies:
Here we encounter a perennial problem of the field: to write about pornography with any detail or interest is not to automatically advocate its virtues. It would seem that to be interested in pornography⌠or the intersection of race, class, and gender with their performative identitiesâis to be cast onto one or the other side of an antiporn-proporn divide that scholarship on pornography, I argue, must get beyond.
Who are we and what is our stance on pornography?
Both authors of this book are sociologists with expertise in gender, sexuality, social conflict and violence, and critical media studies. In keeping with the feminist tenet of research reflexivity (England, 1994), we both self-identify as feminists. We deeply believe in the core principles of feminist thought, including womenâs social, political, and economic equality and the critical importance of addressing all forms of discrimination and maltreatment based on sex, gender, and sexuality. We further recognize the tremendous contributions made by feministsâincluding those sometimes derisively called âradical feministsââto womenâs and menâs lives, to the academic enterprise in general, and to the study of sexuality and pornography more specifically. In that vein, we fully acknowledge the complexity of researching and writing about such a contentious issue and its potential to create lines of division within and between feminist communities. We are also familiar (as we discuss in depth in Chapter 4) with the many ways in which pornography use may be associated with both individual and societal deleterious outcomes.
This, then, is not by any means an anti-feminist book. Nor is it, however, an anti-pornography book. We did not set out to write this book in order to vilify the industry or call for its abolition. Instead, we have consciously chosen not to take an explicit stance on pornography. Although we each have our personal views and opinions about the industry, its consumption patterns, and both the short- and long-term effects of pornography use, we refrain from deliberately including these opinions in the following pages. In doing so, we attempt to distinguish this research endeavor from much of the work emerging from either side of the âgreat pornography debate.â Consequently, the quantitative and qualitative analyses presented in this book highlight a wide range of perspectives and stories, some of which support previous important work in the field, while others challenge the party line.
We recognize that despite our attempts to remain non-partisan in presenting and interpreting our empirical evidence, we cannot be truly objective. Nor can we control how the arguments and discussions contained in this book will be read by diverse audiences, ranging from staunch critics to ardent defenders of pornography. However, it is our hope that the data and stories presented in this book would help in informing the discussion and in bringing more nuance to what has become a polarized and entrenched debate. Regardless of readersâ extant views on pornography and the position with which they approach this research, our goal is that readers will close this book with a more informed perspective and the realization that pornographyâlike any social, economic, political, and cultural phenomenaâneeds to be unpacked, rather than ignored, and viewed through a lens that recognizes and values nuance and complexity.
Book overview
This book is the culmination of more than four years of research. It draws on insights gathered from both quantitative and qualitative content analyses of hundreds of videos from multiple genres of mainstream online pornography found on PornHub, the worldâs largest pornography streaming website. We complemented this content analysis with data coming from more than one hundred and twenty interviews with regular pornography viewers about their pornography-watching habits, preferences, and opinions. Some of the content analysis results presented in Chapters 5â8 of the book first saw the light of day in three journal articlesâtwo that were published in the Journal of Sex Research (Seida & Shor, 2020; Shor & Seida, 2019) and one published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior (Shor & Golriz, 2019).
The book contains six substantive chapters. Chapter 2 provides an overview of the major historical developments that have shaped the mainstream pornography industry over the last several decades, highlighting the seismic shifts that have occurred within this industry over the last half century. We review some of the major trends in public and academic discourse concerning pornography, noting the gradual mainstreaming and normalization of the industry. We also identify recent trends in the use and content of pornography, including increases in female viewership, the rise of amateur pornography, increasing trends of both younger performers and younger viewers, and the mainstreaming of bondage, discipline, dominance, and submission (BDSM) representations. The chapter gives readers a contextual base and provides background for some of our methodological choices, including the decision to focus on freely available mainstream online pornography and our insistence on hearing the voices of both men and women who watch pornography.
Chapter 3 outlines the methodology of the study, providing details on both of its research componentsâthe content analysis of pornographic videos and our interviews with pornography viewers. We explain our sampling choices and provide information about our data and the sample of videos and interviews that we analyzed. We also specify our measurement, coding, recruitment, and interview procedures, while highlighting the ongoing debate within the pornography scholarship around the very definition of aggression in pornography. This definition, in turn, informs the type of conclusions that one might draw from the empirical data. We therefore clarify our choice to adopt two operational definitions, recognizing the potential importance of consent when studying the implications of aggression in sexual scenarios but also the somewhat questionable nature of such free consent within the industry. We also outline the challenges in coding race/ethnicity and in coding aggression in same-sex videos, noting our operational choices in dealing with each of these challenges.
In Chapter 4 we evaluate the extant literat...
