Loving Porn: Answering Steven Dunn on the Philosophy of Porn

Steven Dunn of Hellenistic Christendom has posted a reply to my partial defense of the sex industry. The effort he makes to set aside our differences on God and religion is honorable. I also appreciate the charity, open-mindedness, sophistication, and knowledge Steven has brought to the discussion. One example of his displaying these virtues: "if Ben is indeed correct in his perspective, I want nothing held back from what possible ignorance I could be harboring in my understanding of pornography and even of human persons. I hope Ben should feel the same towards me." Indeed, I feel the same.

What follows is an answer to the purely philosophical parts of Steven's piece. I'm saving my analysis of his scientific references for later; I plan to publish it along with my analysis of the scientific article my friend Art Alvara shared with me.

Blaming Porn Itself

In my original piece I sympathized with YouTuber Kane B's thought that most who accuse porn of "objectifying" women are just expressing their negative feelings about porn, rather than making a statement that could be true or false. As an example of my agreement with this opinion of Kane B's, Steven quotes my statement, "[P]ornography itself is not a proper object of moral praise or blame." But I don't consider my point there to have much to do with Kane B's point. Steven also objects that he's not prepared to agree with my statement, because I never specified what I mean by the word "pornography." That's fair enough, especially since I made a bit of a fuss about the meaning of "objectification." I evidently have some explaining to do.

If I had to define "pornography," I would say it includes all and only media, especially visual images, that are meant to by themselves, in sufficiently large quantities, enable the average consumer to masturbate to climax. Thus, as I use the term, pornography is simply the content to be consumed; it excludes all other parts of the porn industry, even the act of pornographing (which may be a made-up term, but can be understood as something like "photographing pornographic content," except broadened to include non-photographic porn).

If I wasn't expressing my agreement with Kane B when I denied porn was itself a proper object of moral praise or blame, what was I expressing? Steven appears to read me (in a few scattered statements from my original post) as asserting the following:

Pornography, whatever it is, seems to escape this realm of "moral responsibility" (praise or blame) precisely because it doesn’t fit within the usual scheme of objects that align directly with our will. That is why pornography is left solely to the realm of utility: producers, actors, and consumers (etc) are those to whom are owed praise and/or blame . . . This seems to amount to saying that pornography is not morally objectionable in itself, but only insofar as human imprudence intrudes on the question, or lack of caution, lack of consideration of one’s health, etc.  

What Ben’s argument is saying, I think anyway, is that pornography in and of itself is not intrinsically responsible for the emphases it uses to exploit its product. Insofar as the product is intentionally representational, consensual (i.e., free) and within the realms of reasonable and rational marketability, porn consumption (and production) can be viewed upon properly articulated, morally-favorable terms. 

This isn't entirely accurate. I don't believe I'm saying that porn doesn't "align directly with our will." Not sure what that means. My point is the admittedly trivial one that pornographic material doesn't have a mind, nor is it an action, so it can't have the intellectual features that a thing requires to be blameworthy. It can't have beliefs, desires, intentions, understanding, virtues, vices, and so on, so it's not a moral agent (i.e., an entity that does things with moral significance). And it's not an action, so neither is it a morally significant action.

Is porn "left solely to the realm of utility"? I wouldn't say so, but that quote doesn't wear its meaning on its sleeve. I'd rather not speculate as to what that means. I'll just say that doesn't seem to follow from the fact that producers, actors, and consumers—not the pornographic material they create and consume, respectively—are the (potentially blameworthy) moral agents.

As for when I said that it's neither the porn industry's fault nor porn's fault if consumers forgo intimacy in favor of porn, I wasn't saying porn is morally objectionable when it interferes with prudence (e.g., when its existence tempts consumers to forgo intimacy), but rather that for the most part its interference with prudence is morally irrelevant. And if this interference happened to be morally relevant, the moral blame would be attributable only, or principally, to the consumers who gave in to the temptation to be impractical, not attributable to porn or to the porn industry.

Love and Hate

Steven proclaims his hatred of porn, which he takes to be a natural consequence of his love of persons. He shares Aquinas's view that "love of one thing is the cause of one's hating its contrary." So, assuming that porn and persons are contraries, one who loves persons must hate porn, and one who loves porn must hate persons. But this inevitably raises the question, how are porn and persons contraries?

(The propositions) That x is good and that x is bad are contraries. That x is good and that x is not good are contradictories, but in the average analytic philosopher's sense they're not contraries, because contraries are propositions that can both be false but that can't both be true. That x is good and that x is not good cannot both be false, because x must be either good or not good by Aristotle's law of excluded middle (i.e., for every thing x and property p, either x has p or x doesn't have p)—so these are not contraries. But they can't both be true either (obviously, since one is the negation of the other), so they're contradictories. That said, this is a bit pedantic, and I don't believe Steven means to follow the standard analytic usage of "contraries." It's just helpful to me to understand Steven's claim in these analytic terms, because otherwise I don't know how to interpret the claim. At any rate, it takes some work to see how porn and persons, or the relevant propositions about them, might be contradictories or contraries, and even more work to infer from this that love of persons entails hatred of porn. Here's how I understand Steven's argument as a whole:

P1. If it can't be the case both that A and that B, then one who loves it when A hates it when B. (Aquinas's love-hate principle)

P2. If it can't be the case both that persons are properly treated and that porn is produced or consumed, then one who loves it when persons are properly treated hates it when porn is produced or consumed. (instance of P1)

P3. It can't be the case both that persons are properly treated and that porn is produced or consumed. (premise)

P4. Thus, one who loves it when persons are properly treated hates it when porn is produced or consumed. (from P2 and P3 by modus ponens)

P5. Thus, if one loves it when persons are properly treated, one hates it when porn is produced or consumed. (translation of P4 into conditional form)

P6. If one loves persons, one loves it when persons are properly treated. (premise)

P7. Thus, if one loves persons, one hates it when porn is produced or consumed. (from P5 and P6 by conditional proof)

P8. If one hates it when porn is produced or consumed, then one hates porn. (premise)

C. Therefore, if one loves persons, one hates porn. (from P7 and P8 by conditional proof)

(By a parallel argument, if one loves porn, one hates persons.)

One objection to this argument targets Aquinas's principle, P1. It's not exactly right that one who loves it when A must hate it when B, but rather that one who loves it when A must hate it when B if one knows its being the case that B precludes its being the case that A. In the case at issue, it's not that one who loves it when persons are properly treated must hate it when porn is produced or consumed. Rather, one who loves it when persons are properly treated must hate it when porn is produced or consumed, given that one knows porn's being produced or consumed precludes persons' being properly treated. By analogy, someone who loves it when their partner is faithful to them (where this only entails the partner's staying sufficiently invested in their relationship) doesn't necessarily hate it when their partner sleeps with someone else. But if they know their partner won't be able to remain faithful to them while sleeping with someone else, they'll hate it when their partner sleeps with someone else.

All this to say, people like me can love persons without hating porn, even if porn and persons happen to be contraries (i.e., even if P3 is true, and even if we can't love persons and porn while knowing that the two are at odds). This is possible if we are unaware of porn and persons' being at odds. And in fact I do love persons, although I don't love every person.

But even this modification to Aquinas's principle faces counterexamples. For sometimes people would love two things to be the case even though they know only one could, or will likely, be the case at a time. They want to have their cake and eat it too. As an example (other than the one suggested in the expression "have their cake and eat it too"), I would love it if I were in Pittsburgh, but I would also love it if I were in Orlando. I love Pittsburgh and Orlando simultaneously. Nevertheless, I know I can't be in both places at once. One more example. One might love to eat large quantities of fattening foods daily, but also love to be in good shape. They would love fitness and unhealthy food simultaneously. Nevertheless, they'd know that if they were to eat large quantities of fattening foods daily, it would be unlikely (though not impossible) for them to stay fit.

If one loves two contraries, how can one choose one over the other? One may (a) choose at random, because one would rather enjoy/serve one and betray the other, so to speak, than enjoy/serve neither, (b) love one more than the other, or (c) choose one for some reason other than loving it more. This, then, is how one might love porn and persons, know that they are contraries, and betray one of the two.

That said, contrary to P3, I contend that porn production and consumption are compatible with proper treatment of persons. My original article was largely devoted to defending this thesis, or at least the thesis that porn production and consumption don't necessarily involve mistreatment of persons. Given that this latter, weaker thesis is true, it's hard to see how porn can't be reconciled with treating persons properly. So let's see how Steven supports P3.

Love and Beauty

Steven says:

Beauty is a value meant to be sought for its own sake . . . beauty is either on two planes of understanding: either intrinsically within itself (objective) or extrinsically by another (i.e., “subjective” or utilitarian). Love operates very much in the same way. As Karol Wojtyla (better known as Pope John Paul II) argues in his Love and Responsibility (1960), love in the intrinsic sense treats the other (e.g., partner or etc) as an end in itself, not just as a means to an ends. 

If the relationship is structured in this utilitarian sense, then we are not really “loving” the other as we ought – that is, willing the ultimate good for them. This love is more found in the realm of Eros (erotic or carnal love) or some deviation from Philos (friendship or companionship) – either way, in this subjective realm of use.

The second sentence is hard to parse, but I take it the idea in this passage is this. A beautiful thing T can be understood to have its aesthetic value either because of its intrinsic properties, which are basically properties T would have even if there were nothing but T and its parts, or because of its extrinsic properties, which are properties T can only have if some other thing is properly related to T. Call the former kind of value "intrinsic value," and call the latter "extrinsic value." For example, a beautiful painting might be considered valuable just because of the shapes of the strokes, and thus valuable even if there's no one around to appreciate it. That painting is then considered intrinsically valuable. Alternatively, the painting might be considered utterly devoid of value except when observed by someone with the capacity for aesthetic appreciation, in which case it's considered extrinsically valuable (and intrinsically valueless). 

There are two arguments Steven may be making about porn and sex work:

1. If one is to truly love a beautiful person, one must value them intrinsically and for their own sake, in part by wanting what's best for them. But when one seeks services from a beautiful sex worker, one does not value that sex worker intrinsically and for their own sake. Rather, one values them just because they are of use in titillating oneself. So when one seeks services from a beautiful sex worker, one does not truly love that sex worker. At best, one erotically loves them. But then one treats the sex worker immorally.

2. Like we must value intrinsically and for their own sake those we love, we must value intrinsically and for its own sake beauty, including the beauty of porn and of porn models. But consumers do not value the beauty of porn (models) intrinsically and for its own sake. Rather, they value the beauty of porn (models) because it titillates them. So, porn consumers flout their aesthetic duties—duties pertaining to producing and responding to beauty.

Against Argument 1

I maintain that most who seek sexual services do value sex workers for their own sake, which is to say, as ends. But that in itself is not sufficient for loving sex workers. To love sex workers, one must, as Steven says, want what's best for them. But we value many things as ends without wanting what's best for them. We have success as an end, but we don't want what's best for success. That wouldn't even make sense; success can't be better off or worse off, because it's not the kind of thing that has some degree of well-being, especially not if a being needs to have a mind or be a person to have well-being. Similarly, we might have books as ends because of the potential they have to intellectually stimulate us. But we don't want what's best for books, except in a deflated sense—wanting them not to be damaged, wanting them to be good, wanting them to be read by certain people, and wanting them to be popular or critically acclaimed (e.g., one might want this if one wrote the book(s), but of course then the book's capacity for intellectually stimulating oneself is less likely one's reason for valuing the book as an end), even though books don't care about these things. We don't want books to be happy, because they're not capable of happiness. So likewise, we might value, and pursue, sex workers as ends because of their capacities to titillate or gratify us (as the case may be), caring only whether they're in good shape, whether they're good at their job, etc., not whether they're happy.

One might object that this doesn't even rise to the level of valuing sex workers as ends, because the end here is nothing but titillation. Titillation is what one values in virtue of its intrinsic properties, and it is not valued because it's useful for attaining something else (except gratification, perhaps, in which case that's the end) but rather for its own sake. I'd agree that titillation is valued as an end, but I'd disagree that the sex workers aren't valued as ends. Even though we may understand sex workers' capacities to titillate us as extrinsic properties, because these are capacities to have a certain kind of relationship with us, they are properties that make sex workers valuable for their own sake. For even if the sex workers didn't actually titillate us, either because we weren't receiving their services or because their services failed, they would be valuable provided that they had the ability to titillate us. Just having access to the services of sex workers with titillative capacities is valuable, regardless of whether the sex workers turn out to be of much use to the end of titillation. Thus, one may value an entity as an end or for its own sake while valuing it extrinsically (for its useful capacities) rather than intrinsically.*

So, we've concluded that those who seek services from sex workers often value those workers as ends, if not intrinsically or lovingly. Our first order of business now is to consider how often those who seek services from sex workers love them, i.e. want what's best for them. Our second order of business is to assess the relevance of loving sex workers to treating them morally.

If, as Steven implies, the kind of love he's concerned with only amounts to "willing the ultimate good" for the beloved, there is a trivial sense in which most decent consumers of sexual services do love sex workers. These consumers prefer that sex workers have the best lives they can, just as they prefer that any deserving person have the best life they can. If the consumers were to deliberate with the others in their geographic region to decide on the best rules for structuring a society, they would pick rules that allowed sex workers to flourish as much as possible without limiting others' flourishing. That's one way to will, or at least desire, the ultimate good for sex workers. But there's also a sense in which these same consumers (again, decent people in my opinion) don't will the ultimate good for sex workers, even the workers who serve them directly. In particular, the consumers don't intend, and perhaps don't even want, to do much by way of helping sex workers to live the best lives possible, unless these consumers happen to be close to these sex workers. At most, these consumers intend to act against psychological or physical mistreatment of sex workers, by intervening when a sex worker is mistreated in front of them, making petitions, and electing trustworthy government officials who promise to fight abuse. Beyond that, consumers often have little motivation to maximize the well-being of sex workers.

But this is just how we treat most people! If we're not close to someone, we're rarely going to pop into their life and spoil them. We'll only lend a helping hand to someone in need, and even that only if the person in need is nearby or otherwise easy to help. An individual only has the resources to significantly improve a few others' lives. And to say the least, one needn't be a moral monster to neglect to help others as much as one can, assuming most human beings aren't moral monsters.

One might think consumers of sexual services have special reasons to make sex workers' lives better. Sex workers do favors for the consumers, so why don't consumers return the favor? But consumers do return the favor, mainly with money. (Sex work is work, after all!) If a given sex worker doesn't feel sufficiently compensated by that money, that sex worker should find a job offering fairer pay, if at all possible. But what if the sex worker has no other way to make enough money to get by? If so, that is certainly a shame; then the whole job market in that sex worker's part of the world needs to change, if not the amount that sex workers are paid there. But I find it more likely that sex workers who believe they have no other option are mistaken.

The ultimate good for a sex worker includes far more than the money they earn and what they buy with it. But why think consumers of sexual services owe sex workers anything more than the amount of monetary compensation those workers reasonably accept? The implicit assumption Steven appears to make is that we shouldn't be able to receive sexual benefits from people we don't love, like really love. It's hard not to see this as anything but a manifestation of the old religious conviction that one should save sex for marriage. Any other justification of this assumption is absurd or unfamiliar to me. It would be unreasonable for, say, a stripper to do a tease and then beg everyone in the audience to love him or her. That's not how love is to be earned, for one. For another, when one applies for a job as a sex worker, one agrees, more or less explicitly, to offer sexual benefits to people who won't really love one in return. If this is all true of strippers, how much truer it must be of porn models who never even see the consumers!

There are plenty of analogies I can use to drive home the point that sex workers shouldn't expect much more than money and common courtesy from consumers. Consider an artist who pours their heart and soul into a certain work of art. Creating the piece is no easy task. Further, this piece discloses, in a manner more or less open to interpretation, deeply personal and private aspects of the artist's identity, much like porn discloses deeply personal and private aspects of the models' identities.** But if you purchase this work of art, there's no need to call up the artist and say, "I really loved that painting of yours. Since you're a human being, not merely an object, what can I do for you?" In fact, that would even come across as weird and potentially stalkerish. That's not just because it's awkwardly phrased. Now, this is more comparable to full-on loving a porn star than to full-on loving a stripper or (legal) brothel worker, because the work of a porn star is observed from a distance. But the analogies don't end here. Consider a musician who, again, pours their heart and soul into a concert. If you purchase a ticket, sit in the front row, and get invited on stage to interact with the musician, there's still no need to call up the musician after the concert and treat them to a meal.

* This paragraph is inspired by Shelly Kagan's paper "Rethinking Intrinsic Value." His examples are a capacity to cook gourmet food and a car with the capacity to go fast. For Kagan, the culinary skill and the car are both valuable as ends, even though useful capacities are what make these two things valuable. My main reservation about Kagan's reasoning is that it seems to make every means an end. An odd consequence. This means nothing is a "mere means" in the sense of being a means but not an end.

** I'm borrowing from Art Alvara the turn of phrase "deeply personal and private" and the application of it to sexual identity. Art also replied to my original blog post.

Against Argument 2

I've already argued that we can value people as ends without valuing them intrinsically. But if we value those we love as ends in themselves, then what ethical need is there to, in addition, value them intrinsically? Suppose, as I suspect, there is no need. Then it's not the case that we must value intrinsically and for their own sake those we love. At most we must value them for their own sake. We might think the same goes for the beauty of porn (models).

In reply to the claim that consumers don't value the beauty of porn (models) for its own sake, I can simply reiterate the previous section's argument that consumers value sex workers for their own sake, but apply that reasoning to the beauty of porn (models) instead. In a nutshell, porn consumers value the beauty of porn (models) as an end precisely because it has a useful capacity for titillation and gratification. Just having access to the beauty of porn (models) is valuable, even if you don't get to use the porn.

Finally, there's the question of whether we have any duty to value beauty, let alone value it in any particular way—especially when it comes to the beauty of an image rather than of a human being. Valuing a person as an end in themselves is one thing. Valuing as an end in itself (the beauty of) a pornographic image—even though (the beauty of) that image has no mind—is something else entirely. It's much more plausible that we have duties to regard and treat humans certain ways than to regard and treat mindless entities certain ways. We don't owe mindless entities anything; how can we owe them something when they couldn't have done anything to earn it, and there's nothing we can do to make them better off? Granted, pornographic images are creations and representations of human beings. In order to perform this representational function, pornographic images must have a fair amount in common with the humans they represent. So, if the features porn shares with actual humans include features of humans that account for our duty to value them as ends in themselves, maybe we also have a duty to value (the beauty of) porn as an end in itself. It's worth reemphasizing that porn doesn't share enough features with humans to have a mind, which strikes me as a morally relevant difference between porn and humans. But I'll have to think on this some more.

I-It vs. I-Thou Relations

Steven writes:

I-It relations are impersonal relations between objects, or from the use of an “I” (me) and some thing. This is the classic utilitarian formula of relations between persons and the world: the exchange is always for a means towards an end . . . I-Thou relations view the other as realities rather than mere personalities; they are not abstracted projections of us or our fancies, but are something unique and valuable in and of themselves. 

In other words, in an I-It relationship, I view thee as an it, an object. My exchange with thee is just a means to an end. In an I-Thou relationship, I view thee as unique and as valuable intrinsically and for thy own sake, and I don't simply imagine thee to be the way I am or the way I want thee to be. Pretty straightforward.

From my perspective, regarding human beings as intrinsically valuable ends in themselves is less vital for ethical propriety than treating them with respect: respecting their rights, achievements, abilities, and virtues. As long as you are respectful in this way, it's immaterial whether you endorse controversial metaphysical theses such as "the mere existence of any living organism with human DNA is valuable" and "humans have some value that does not derive from the good and bad things they contingently cause/experience or are capable of contingently causing/experiencing" ("contingently causing/experiencing" roughly meaning causing or experiencing without being absolutely guaranteed to do so). Of course, one might understand human beings or persons as intrinsically valuable ends in themselves in a way that doesn't entail theses as controversial as those above. For example, one might think, like I do, that a person has value as an end precisely because they are capable of contingently causing/experiencing good and bad things. Recall my previous argument that useful capacities make things valuable for their own sake. And one might think that a person's virtues sometimes give them intrinsic value; for instance, the virtue of levelheadedness largely consists in the way a person thinks and reigns in their emotions, which is intrinsic to the person in that it goes on inside their head. If "intrinsically valuable ends in themselves" were fleshed out this way, I could get behind the idea that the phrase aptly describes humans. Indeed, in that case getting behind that idea might be required for ethical propriety.

Now, what does all this have to do with the porn debate? Steven elaborates:

Objectification is done not merely through an act of the intellect, but also of the will to "lessen" persons to "objects": ie., to reduce the human relationship to a mere means to an end, and that it is wrong to do so even when done so willingly and consensually between either party . . . It is wrong to do this because it displays an improper use of the intended nature of human relationships (this includes sexual relationships) . . . What makes these instances of "objectification" so devastating and "improper" . . . is precisely because they attempt to morph the human person into something for which it wasn’t intended.

It's worth noting that the worry here articulated is that the porn industry, or the sex industry, reduces to mere means relationships (or "exchanges") between humans, not necessarily the humans themselves. But should the mere fact that a relationship is reduced to a means be troubling? Not for the reason that it encourages disregard for humans' status as ends in themselves. It doesn't encourage such a thing. Indeed, enjoying or increasing the value of one's companion as an end in themselves might even be an end to which a relationship is a means. Consider a healthy romantic relationship wherein each partner helps the other to grow more confident. Each partner then becomes more valuable as an end, because confidence is a capacity that others will find useful. It makes the person more of an asset to jobs, romantic partners, family, and friends. Thus, this romantic relationship is a means to the end of increasing each partner's value as an end in themselves. If that makes it an I-It relation, I-It relations can be pretty good after all—as good as I-Thou relations! Neither of the partners in our hypothetical relationship is even viewed by the other as an it or a mere object, so "I-It relation" is a misnomer.

At any rate, if relationships are ends precisely because of their useful capacities, then they are not mere means. And some relationships between sex workers and consumers of their services are ends because of their useful capacities. For example, the relationship between a porn star and a porn consumer has the capacity to gratify the consumer and make the porn star richer. The former capacity makes the relationship an end for the consumer, and the latter makes it an end for the porn star. Of course, this is only a "human relationship" in a rather strained sense of the term. Porn stars and their fans rarely get to know each other. This is worth noting because there are many obligations that one might have to someone in a bona fide relationship that porn stars and their fans don't have to each other. Even if an "I-It relation" would be inappropriate between two people who knew each other and weren't many miles away from each other, that doesn't mean it would be inappropriate between any two people whatsoever.

Steven goes on to express a concern that porn distorts and exaggerates humans' features to serve the imaginative fancies of consumers. This is certainly true of much porn, but I'm not sure what Steven's qualm is about it. There are a number of qualms he might reasonably have. I'll give him that.

As an example of the imaginative nature of porn (but not with respect to the distortion of bodies), Steven shares the following quote from Philip Roth:

It’s a representation, ordinary pornography. It’s a fallen art form. It’s not just make-believe, it’s patently insincere. You want the girl in the film, but you’re not jealous of whoever’s f***king her because he becomes your surrogate. Quite amazing, but that’s the power of fallen art. He becomes a stand-in, there in your service.                               

Again, I'm not sure what the problem is. I am of the opinion that you should not get jealous of someone just because they're sexually involved with a girl you're attracted to, even if that girl happens to be your girlfriend or wife. Admittedly, unless you wronged her or gave her permission, your girlfriend or wife probably shouldn't have a secret lover. But if she's open and honest about it, she's well within her rights to have sex with someone else, as long as she didn't commit to an exclusive relationship with you. You don't own her. Feeling some jealousy is of course excusable, but you have to be careful not to rashly act on that jealousy. A degree of jealousy can be healthy, sometimes, such as when someone has committed to a relationship with you but gets interested in someone else, and suddenly gives you less attention than previously agreed. Even then the jealousy is probably unhealthy if you know your partner has a good reason to pull away from you, or if it looks like it will be unproductive to ask your partner to stick to the agreement.

One might insist that consuming porn without getting jealous is insincere of those consumers who normally get jealous of guys in real life who have sex with attractive girls. In a sense, that seems true. It's like those consumers have been (self-)deceived into thinking they're not seriously missing out since they're actually having sex with the girls in porn, or doing something near enough. But then again, maybe they really are doing something near enough; it depends on what more they would have the opportunity to experience if they had sex with those girls, and how valuable that opportunity would be to them. That varies with the individual. Of course, the consumers don't really believe they're having sex, nor do they claim they are, nor does the porn industry aim to convince consumers that they're having sex when they consume porn. So in that sense, there's no insincerity.

Steven's quote from Angela Carter is in tension with the Roth quote above:

The one-to-one relation of the reader with the book is never more apparent than in the reading of a pornographic novel, since it is virtually impossible to forget oneself in relation to the text. In pornographic literature, the text has a gap left in it on purpose so that the reader, may, in imagination, step inside it. But the activity the text describes, into which the reader enters, is not a whole world into which the reader is absorbed and, as they say, ‘taken out of himself.’ 

It is one basic activity extracted from the world in its totality in such a way that the text constantly reminds the reader of his own troubling self, his own reality – and the limitations of that reality since, however much he wants to f*** the willing women or men in his story, he cannot do so but must be content with some form of substitute activity.                                                                   

This makes it sound as though porn consumers definitely do get jealous, or at least pity themselves for lacking the opportunity to have sex with the willing women or men getting f***ed in the novel. Indeed, not only do the consumers get jealous, but "the text constantly reminds" them how jealous they are.

Perhaps the truth about porn-induced jealousy lies somewhere between these two extreme positions Roth and Carter respectively take. Porn may give some consumers jealous tendencies or feelings that simply don't manifest while those consumers are fantasizing or getting off. At that time they're just too preoccupied to be moody.

Defining "Pornography"

Steven presents a series of proposed criteria for material to qualify as pornography. For example, Diana E. H. Russell proposes the criterion "combines sex and/or the exposure of genitals with abuse or degradation in a manner that appears to endorse, condone, or encourage such behavior." Andrea Dworkin and Catherine MacKinnon propose the criterion "subordinate[s] women through pictures or words," which they say may be satisfied by material in which "Women are presented dehumanized," "Women are presented in scenarios of degradation . . . shown as . . . inferior," and "Women's body parts . . . are exhibited such that women are reduced to those parts."

I wouldn't be surprised if some porn met criteria like these, but these are not so helpful to the end of defining "pornography."  A definition of "pornography" along these lines would all but presuppose porn is bad. If I were to accept such a definition, then I would just deny the material I was defending was pornography in the first place. See my own favored definition of "pornography" in the second paragraph under the heading "Blaming Porn Itself," toward the beginning of this post. As for the rest of the criteria in Part III of Steven's post, many of them make reference to potentially unsettling kinks and fetishes. Suppose there's something wrong with porn catering to such sexual preferences. What about other kinds of porn? There's a lot of not-so-kinky porn out there. But in my original post, I gave a preliminary argument to the effect that even kinky porn is likely okay. See the second-to-last bullet point at the end of the post.