"Porn Wars"
by Robin Stewart

Very few of us are strangers to pornography. Definitions and opinions aside, in each of our lives there was a moment when we first encountered that particular book or image or movie which forever skewed our conventional view of sex. After our introduction to pornography, sex just didn't seem as clean, serious or sacred. It became clumsy, juvenile, or simply laughable. I first became an acquaintance of pornography at the age of thirteen during a summer visit to my uncle's bachelor bungalow. In the bottom drawer of an old chest I found some moldy old copies of Hustler Magazine. Realizing that my uncle had long ago forgotten about the impressionable contents of this chest, I sneaked the unfamiliar material back home and marched straight to the bathroom for the rest of the evening where I passed the hours skewing my conventional view of sex.

I don't attach any moral significance to this awkward stage of boyhood. I'm not particularly proud of it, but I'm not carrying around a lot of guilt either. Of all the things I did in childhood, collecting Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures seems to me just as embarrassing if not more so, but this may be because my mother never found out about my extra-bathroom activities. At least I don't think that she did. If she did she was too kind to embarrass me by direct confrontation. I tend to think, however, that she was (though not even remotely conservative) a mother of conventional virtue, who would have done anything to instill in her son the proper regard for sex, even if it meant keeping him from visiting his uncle or the bathroom.

I imagine that this nightmare of lost innocence must loom heavily in the thoughts of all parents, and I try to sympathize with conservatively minded parents for whom the nightmare looms tenfold. To them, merely living in the modern world creates an ongoing battle to instill in their children what they consider to be a sense of moral decency. I must concede that there is probably no cause more noble, and I sincerely respect the concerns and actions of such parents, just as I would have respected any action that my mother would have taken had she become aware of my prurient awakening.

But it is often these parents, lost amid the fervor of their convictions and their imposing sense of family duty, who exceed the proper boundaries of actions. The extreme admiration that I have for individuals who remain true to their parental duties turns to admonition when those same individuals forget their proper civic duties by seeking hasty solutions for personal problems through the establishment of strict laws concerning indecency and the censoring thereof. The well-known feminist, Susan Brownmiller, writes in support of government involvement on the issue, rationalizing that "to buy a paper at the comer newsstand is to subject oneself to a forcible immersion in pornography" (37). Her sentiment is understandable, and considering the blatant and open use of sex today in a host of accessible media, most notably the Internet, it is undeniably a valid problem for parents.

However, even in the most glorious crusades with the worthiest of causes, the ends cannot always justify the means. As responsible citizens, we should endeavor to seek the best possible solution to our problems, while not going further than necessary. In the case of pornography, appeals for government censorship and regulation are big solutions to relatively small problems. To borrow a metaphor from rock musician Frank Zappa, such notions are "the equivalent of treating dandruff by decapitation" (268). While finding pornography repulsive and wishing for its demise does not a bad parent or citizen make, complete reliance on the government as a, moral mediator is not a reasonable, responsible, or even effective strategy for the suppression of pornography.

It is important to remember that the creation and enforcement of obscenity laws are not new to America. It is also important to realize that the 224 year history of these laws is marked extensively by confusion, folly, and failure. Case after case has caused the Supreme Court to bicker amongst themselves and to create ridiculous precedents that must later be replaced with other equally ridiculous precedents. In fact, there is only one constant, recurring conclusion to each of the Supreme Court's attempts: failure.

The inevitably of this failure, however, does not rest on their unwillingness to restrict obscenity, but on their inability to define it. Roth vs. United States (1957) set forth the first legal definition of obscenity, stating that obscenity was material which "taken as a whole" appealed to "Prurient interest" and had no "redeeming social significance" according to "the average person, applying contemporary community standards." Unfortunately, law in America, to properly uphold a sense of justice, is an exact process. Words such as "average," "contemporary," and "standards" are too vague to be useful in such a precise system. In Miller vs. California (1973), an attempt was made to eliminate the confusion. Amending the previous definition of obscenity, material now had to display no "serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value," and the "average person" was changed to the "reasonable person" who must find material to be of the "particularly offensive type." This improved wording did nothing to create a workable definition that the lower courts could use to make consistent unbiased judgments on pornography. Offense is a question of taste, not of objective worth, and most individuals (Justices included) are too subjective to agree even on the qualities that constitute objective worth.

Of course, the enactment of laws is not solely within the power or responsibility of Congress or the higher courts. Even if the obstacle of definition were removed, it would not guarantee the full and efficient enforcement of obscenity laws. The most significant government study on the subject of pornography, The Final Report, describes the general attitude of the lower American court system and local law enforcement agencies as one of disregard. Even if the police bother to press charges for distributors of pornographic materials, the pornographers actually receive sentences "less often and for less time than do people committing other crimes that allow equivalent statutory sentences" (United 368). Bottom line -- the police have more pressing concerns than making sure some zit-faced kid doesn't find a couple of his uncle's dirty magazines.

But let us suppose that the problem of apathy could be eliminated along with the previous problem of definition. Would making an activity or product illegal manage to successfully suppress that activity or product? Such was certainly not the rule of thumb during Prohibition. Alcohol was still available, only the means to acquire it became illegal and the use of it became more irresponsible. Suppressive environments tend to create better opportunities for organized crime to thrive, and considering that organized crime is already suspected of controlling a significant portion of the pornographic industry (United 291), a monopoly would not be difficult to establish. Al Capone gained an unreasonable share of power and influence by pedaling alcohol, and as far as tempting vices go, sex is an infinitely more sellable product than liquor on any market, black or otherwise. Even during the sexually modest period of Queen Victoria's reign in England, prostitution was at an all time high. In our open and unrestricted modern America, pornography has become a billion dollar industry regulated only by the laws of free-enterprise economics. Imagine that cash flow going untaxed; add to that loss of money the expense needed for additional police forces, court fees, and prisons to house the makers, actors, sellers, and purchasers of pornographic material and we shall quickly be looking for a solution to the solution.

But beyond these questions of practicality, lie more important issues of principle. The First Amendment has always been the bane to any anti-smut advocate and the savior of the free-speech advocate:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Of all the statements of rights and restrictions contained within the Constitution, Americans hold the rights protected by the First Amendment as most sacred and most essential the existence of freedom and democracy. As a testament to the high level of regard it receives throughout the debate on pornography, few if any supporters of censoring obscenities have directly challenged the first Amendment. Even Susan Brownmiller praises the "high purpose" of the first Amendment in the "protection of unpopular ideas and political dissent" (35). However, Brownmiller, as well as many others, continually attempts to argue around the First Amendment. Several of these arguments may look attractive on the surface, but a proper examination reveals them to be no more than logical slight of hands.

The Final Report contains the most popular of these arguments that maintain that the protection of the First Amendment does not and should not extend to obscene materials. The principle argument the report puts forward is that "legal obscenity is treated as being either not speech at all, or at least not the kind of speech that is within the purview of any of the diverse aims and principles of the First Amendments" (United 254). Interestingly enough, the book fails to clarify what these "diverse aims and principles" are exactly, and it gives, as justification for disregarding obscenity as speech, the claim that "the special power of the First Amendment ought, in our opinion, to be reserved for the conveying of arguments and information in a way that surpasses some admittedly low hold of cognitive appeal" (264). All these comments seem to argue that the First Amendment extends only to the "intelligent elite." According to this premise, a dirty joke shared by a couple of men at work would not be protected by the First Amendment, but the doorkeeper's filthy speech in Macbeth, which discusses the finer points of how drink increases sexual desire but then causes the drinker not "stand to," is art that has a rare and cherished seat at the table of free speech because of the "manner" in which Shakespeare presents his idea. Such arguments undermine the equality of protection in the First Amendment, and the act of "interpreting" it renders it useless as a protection of civil liberty.

Undaunted, The Final Report further rationalizes its conclusion to impose a test for cognitive appeal:

...We are of the opinion that not only society at large but the First Amendment itself suffers if the essential appeal of the First Amendment is dissipated on arguments related to material so tenuously associated with any of the purposes or principles of the First Amendment. We believe it necessary that the plausibility of the First Amendment be protected, and we believe it equally necessary for this society to ensure that the First Amendment retains the strength it must have when it is most needed. (265)

The first major error with the logic behind this position stems its comparison of the First Amendment to some kind of tangible object of which we have only a limited supply. The assumption that the Amendment may "dissipate" or fail to "retain strength," as if it were a stick of butter that we may spread too thin, is completely wrong headed. The First Amendment is a right, an inalienable claim, not to be seen as a machine gun that can run out of bullets. The second major error (or perhaps conscious tactic) is that the argument is nothing more than a veiled threat: "Use the First Amendment when we say and how we say or you'll be alone and defenseless later on." A healthier, more informed perspective on the First Amendment is that of Susan Jacoby who writes "You can't OD on the First Amendment, because free speech is its own best antidote" (31)

I must concede, however, that reasonableness does allow for the abridgement of some forms of speech. Shouting fire in a crowded theater, false advertising, and libel are all censored forms of speech, but the distinct reason for these exceptions is that all can be identified as a direct cause of harm. Direct cause of harm (more popularly known as "clear and present danger") is the only solid ground on which the national government may abridge the freedom of speech, and, indeed, there are many arguments against pornography on these grounds. Some psychologists and feminists contend that there is a clear relationship between exposure to pornography and sexual aggression, especially rape. Many studies, however, have been unable to verify this claim. Often, there is even evidence quite to the contrary. One study showed that despite the graphic and abundant nature of violence and rape displayed in Japanese pornography, the occurrence of rape in Japan is lower than in the U.S., England, West Germany, and France (Abramson 180?1). The conductor of the study, Psychologist Paul R. Abramson, concludes that the low incident of rape in Japan is due to the internal constraints caused by a fear of social shame, while in America, where the occurrence of rape is much higher, we rely on external government restraints (182). Even if a direct correlation existed between rape and pornography, it would still be difficult to prove causation of harm. For example, a man watches a pornographic film, feels the desire to have sex, and later that night rapes a woman at random. In this scenario, the cause of harm is the man who committed rape. Pornography may have influenced his actions but not exclusively. After all, not every one who views pornography, even the most violent pornography, is going to commit rape because of it. Thus, government has little authority to bring charges against the people responsible for making and selling material that the rapist viewed.

In spite of the limitations of government action, there are alternative methods of dealing with the obscenity issue that prove more principally and practically sound. Noted journalist Susan Jacoby describes pornography as existing in "the marketplace of ideas and images" in which there is no need for the "power of the state." (31). The realization of this concept is of the utmost importance, for it is a vindication of the potential power that we all have as consumers. Pornography is a product. Products require several basic elements for their existence, such as capital, means of production, distribution, and a demand for that product. Laws may work to limit the capital, means of production, and distributors, but they can do nothing to lessen the demand, the most essential component in the economic machine. During the days of Prohibition, the demand for alcohol was stronger than the will of the government; the dollar was stronger than the laws. Today, the dollar remains stronger than the law, and, as long as porn is profitable, it will be prevalent.

This revelation, however, is not a deathblow to the anti-pornography movement. The fantastic characteristic of a dollar is that it has the same amount of worth regardless of the moral convictions of the person using it. Companies producing pornography of the inartistic type are out for dollars, and, to them, a priest's dollar is just as green as a pervert's. They choose to cater to the pervert because the pervert is an active spender who keeps the pornography market going by buying package upon package of illicit material, while the priest's dollar remains in his moral pocket. The issue at hand, therefore, is not to keep the company from accepting the pervert's dollar, but to convince the pervert not to spend his dollar in such an offensive fashion. If a true moral revolution is to occur in America, then it is by an appeal to the perverts, which means that concerned parents must change a lot of dirty minds and shake a lot of sticky hands. The next best thing is to be more economically outspoken than the perverts. A well-thought-out and well-organized boycott has historically been ten times more effective than government petition (i.e., the stamp tax of colonial days). Boycotts are often unpopular and not widely implemented because it is a difficult method of protest. Indeed, a group of morally conscious citizens who despise pornography cannot boycott by simply refusing to shop at pornographic stores. Rather, that group must refuse to shop on the street where the store is located. Likewise, if a group is offended by the amount of gratuitous sex on the Internet, the solution is not to boycott those sites, but to boycott computers in general because the computers are part of the means of production. The heads at Microsoft are in a better position than the government to find practical solutions to cyber porn, but Microsoft is not about to waste its time or money on a non?issue until consumers make it an issue. Thus, anyone can impose his or her own moral considerations on a dollar where before there were none, and ultimate influence can be attained through an individual's spending habits in the "market of ideas."

This is a free market, untouched by government and given wholly over to the concept of majority rule. Parents and concerned citizens can best battle the threat of pornography on this playing field, and the moral implications for society are pervasive. The promotion of morals, however, is both a noble and a difficult cause. It is noble in the fact that one is trying to change the way another person thinks for the better. It is difficult in the fact that one is trying to change the way another person thinks. In the case of pornography and the dilemmas of parents, the task is especially difficult. The temptation to give up on the marketplace and go back begging on the steps of Capitol Hill is tremendous. However, it is important to remember that such a course is neither just nor effective. I doubt very seriously that my mother would have been naive enough to trust our state senator to keep me out of the bathroom. She would have taken matters into her own hands, and, by rod or reason, she would have persuaded me not to indulge in such twisted notions of sex. She would have also addressed the source of the matter, making my uncle very sorry that he hadn't also been a stranger to pornography.

Abramson, Paul R., and Haruo Hayashi. "Pornography in Japan: Crosss Cultural and Theoretical Considerations." Pornography and Sexual Aggression. Eds Neil M. Malarnuth and Edward Donnerstein. Orlando: Academic Press, 1984. 173-183.

Brownmiller, Susan. "Let's Put Pornography Back the Closet." Current Issues and Enduring Questions. Eds Sylvan Barnet and Hugo Bedau. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 1999. 35-38.

Jacoby, Susan. "A First Amendment Junkie." Current Issues and Enduring Questions. Eds Sylvan Barnet and Hugo Bedau. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 1999. 29-31.

United States Congress. Attorney General's Commission on Pornography: Final Report. July 1986. Washington: GPO, 1986.

Zappa, Frank, and Peter Occhiogrosso. The Real Frank Zappa Book. New York: Poseidon Press, 1990.