Why is the pornification of our culture so difficult to oppose? Partly because it takes subtly different forms. There used to be prostitutes and pornographers. Now, there are online influencers like Lily Phillips, subject of the documentary I Slept With 100 Men in One Day. These influencers sometimes talk like feminist activists, too.
The idea that sex belongs in committed relationships is rubbished
There are also TV shows that are not quite porn, but are not quite not. A few years ago, I attacked the Channel 4 reality show Open House, which features first-time swingers. It doesn’t just document their adventures; it arranges them. I hoped that my attack would finish it off, but it is back for a new season.
Of course it is ‘reality porn’ – titillating entertainment involving real people. But it feels the need to present itself as therapeutically virtuous – it provides counsellors who help these couples to express themselves, to follow their liberated hearts. This makes it uglier than mere porn. To justify its existence, it has to push a message, that this approach to sex is brave and valid.
This sort of thing is different from Lily Phillips. But we need to recognise the common ground, if we are to take a stand against pornification. In both cases, a hedonistic view of sex is promoted and the idea that sex belongs in committed relationships is rubbished.
The fact is that the vast majority of people are pretty old-fashioned about sex, and dislike being told that anything goes. But somehow we seem to lack the language to say so.
In fact, I feel a bit grateful to Lily Phillips. So disgusting and offensive are her antics that she is waking us up, forcing us into articulacy. What she did in sleeping with dozens of men in the space of a few hours is clearly wrong. But why? We must learn to say why.
The problem is that critics of porn are split. Old-fashioned moral conservatism, perhaps rooted in religion, still very much exists but is rather shy of piping up. The feminist critique of porn is less shy, or rather it has more credibility in our media.
It is time for these two forms of critique to work together. Porn has divided and conquered its opponents. A united front is needed.
On its own, the feminist response is inadequate. It is too reliant on the language of rights. As soon as a woman says that she finds selling her body liberating, it gets confused. A woman is not meant to find that liberating, it says, so surely she has been brainwashed by the patriarchal porn industry. But this feels flimsy. The whole discourse of rights, and being free to do what does not harm others, is unable to deal with the wrongness of porn.
A feminist response also has the aura of a minority response, even if the vast majority agrees with most of it. And the task is to articulate the majority common-sense view. We need a new articulation of why sex should not be cheapened, demeaned, hedonised, treated as entertainment. What is the positive principle behind such opposition?
Most people probably want to say something like this: sex belongs in committed relationships, it is bad for society to be flippant or trivial or hedonistic about it. But this is too weak. Our cultural gate-keepers reply, ‘That’s a very valid opinion, now let’s hear from the edgy pornographers again.’
How can the opinion of the vast majority be strengthened? It’s no good claiming to be offended. This only works for minorities. Also, in this case the complaint is far too vague. Mary Whitehouse was too broadly offended – by sex-scenes in dramas, and representations of homosexuality, for instance. We need to be more precise about what offends us. What offends us, I suggest, is the promotion of casual and hedonistic sex as equally valid.
But why does this offend us? We must learn to articulate the positive principle behind our offense. Surely it is this: we greatly value the idea that sex belongs in faithful committed relationships. And the language of ‘greatly valuing’ has to be stepped up. We have to say something like this: ‘We see sacred significance in faithful committed relationships’. Only the language of sacredness can really get across the fact that pornification feels like a threat to what we hold dear. The language of rational liberalism can’t really express this: it is too easily appropriated by the pornographers trumpeting their rights.
I invite other critics of pornification to sign up to this. We’ve been divided and weak too long. Let’s come together.
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