Porn is big business. It is estimated to be worth about US$25bn in annual profit and to account for 30% of all internet traffic.
Even if we don’t watch it ourselves, porn demands our attention because its prevalence, the nature of its content, and its impact make it a cultural influence we can’t afford to ignore – a situation recognised by growing numbers of parents, schools, counsellors and policymakers.
My journey with porn began about eight years ago, when I was working as a sexual violence prevention educator. I watched the internet become more accessible and with it, the growth of the influence of porn as a sex educator. Porn became increasingly common in the conversations I was having with young people.
One of my most memorable conversations about pornography occurred with a group of disadvantaged 15- and 16 year-old boys who were part of an adventure therapy program.
Early in our session we discussed where and from whom we learn about sex – friends, parents, siblings, teachers, television, magazines. And porn.
“What does porn say about sex?” I asked.
Without a word, the boy next to me began to thrust his pelvis. Then he put his left hand up as though to grab the shoulder of his imaginary sexual partner and, repeatedly punching his right arm towards the face, he exclaimed in rhythm “You. Stupid. Fucking. Bitch,” before resuming his pelvic thrusting.
Two things particularly struck me about his spontaneous enactment: the high level of aggression and its centrality in his description. For this young man, violence – overt verbal and physical hostility – was a defining feature of porn.
Years later, I was struck by the same two things when I interviewed porn performer “Anthony Hardwood” in Hungary for a film I was making about pornography’s impact on young people.
“[The directors] wanted to get more energy, more rough,” he told me, describing the shift towards more aggression he has observed – and been part of – since he began in the industry in 1997. “It’s like we want to kill the girl on set.”
He spoke unguardedly about both the aggression towards women in porn and the financial incentive that drives it. “You know, the customers love it. They buy the movies. They just love it. They want the scene like this. You have to be very rough with the girl.”
Hardwood is one of many people from the international pornography industry I have interviewed. Others also spoke of porn’s high levels of aggression towards women, as did young people and experts I spoke with.
According to Australian sociologist Michael Flood, “Most commercial, mainstream pornography presents women in very narrow and callous and hostile ways.”
That is certainly borne out by research.
A study of 50 of the most popular pornographic videos found that 88% of scenes included physical aggression and 48% of scenes included verbal aggression. The researchers observed a total of 3,376 aggressive acts, including gagging in 54% of scenes, choking in 27% of scenes and spanking in 75% of scenes.
They also found that the aggression was overwhelmingly – in 94% of incidents – directed towards women. Not only that; in almost every instance, women were portrayed as though they either didn’t mind or liked the aggression. This echoes Hardwood’s claim to me that female performers are required to look like they enjoy whatever is done to them – even when they’re in a lot of pain.
Let’s put porn’s aggression in context.
There is growing awareness in Australia of the scale and impact of violence against women. It is the leading preventable cause of illness, injury and death for women under 45 years. A woman is killed at the hands of her partner or ex-partner about once every week. Violence against women is a major public health issue – one that costs Australia an estimated $21.7bn each year.
But violence against women isn’t random, unfortunate or isolated. Intimate partner homicides are the most devastating end of a continuum of violence against women that is supported by a range of more common behaviours and attitudes, from sexist jokes to jobs for the boys and rating girls and young women as “sluts”.
The key driver of violence against women is gender inequality, which is reflected and reinforced through gender stereotypes, unequal power between women and men, and disrespect towards women.
Not only does pornography commonly portray a particularly concentrated and toxic version of gender inequality, it suggests that it is sexy. It eroticises the key driver of violence against women – and it does so while claiming to offer us sexual liberation.
Far from being simply entertainment or fantasy, pornography contributes to cultural conditions in which violence against women is tolerated, acceptable and even desirable.
For young people growing up online, exposure to porn has become normalised. But they deserve better.
Porn issues a challenge to those of us who live or work with young people, and to our political leaders. We must support young people to critique media representations of gender, sex, power and aggression, and to aspire to relationships and sexuality that are respectful, mutually pleasurable and fully consenting.
To fail to do so is to risk leaving young people’s sexuality education to the likes of Anthony Hardwood – and even he would agree that that is not going to end well.
The Porn Factor airs on SBS 2 at 9.30pm on Thursday, 4 August.