Critics of Porn: Moral Custodians or just a Bunch of Sad Sacks? by Matt Hayden Prudes and puritans are forever saying that porn is a great evil. Their favourite claim is that it causes sexual violence. But the overwelming evidence suggests there is no causal link. The only pervasive ills smut can surely be linked to are bloodshot eyes, calluses and RSI. The other criticism of porn is that it's degrading and sad. I wouldn't discount this theory entirely. But is that a reason for banning it? Many full-time jobs are also degrading and sad. Apply the rule consistently and the economy goes into free-fall. Being a porn star is clearly less degrading and sad than many occupations -- even that of mainstream movie star, I reckon. See, porn stars get laid to get famous. But for mainstream stars it's the other way around. So porn stars avoid expending a whole lot of time and energy honing ultimately useless skills -- like acting, for instance. Certainly, mainstream stars do get a lot more sex than most people. But it's usually pretty angst-ridden because they can never be sure if their lovers desire them or their public image. Also, their attractiveness depends upon their box-office clout, which is almost impossible to control or sustain. And they often end up as reluctant porn stars anyway, when some disgruntled lover sells their private sex videos over the Internet. Certainly, porn stars are happier than comedians. The average comic's sex life is a joke. Which is why his joking life is all about sex. (In fact, most comics are afraid of getting laid because if they do they know they'll run out of material!) Critics also slam smut for its lovelessness. Fair point. But then, what is love anyway? Poets, philosophers and psychologists have been trying to answer that question for eons without much success. And hell, during the Lewinsky saga, scores of highly paid lawyers couldn't define what sex was, either! Defining emotional parameters for porn is like playing pin the tail on the donkey while you're sky high on crack cocaine. It just ain't gonna work. Porn is like art as defined by Oscar Wilde: It never expresses anything but itself. Which isn't to say that Cum Guzzling Sluts is as fine a piece of work as The Importance of Being Earnest, of course. But I think you get my drift. It just is what it is, and it's up to the viewer to decide whether it's worthwhile or not. If he's a young bloke who hasn't been laid in six weeks, it's a safe bet to say he'll probably decide that it is. If there's anything I find sad about porn it's not the number of participants. It's the number of spectators. Who's sadder? The shameless trio sucking, slurping and schtupping up a storm in front of the web-cam, or the thousands of wage slaves downloading the images on office PCs all over the world? But I do agree with the wowsers when they say there's too much porn in the world. Because the excess of sex on video, cable and the Internet signifies the comparative lack of it in the real world. There are clearly millions of people who imagine a much more exciting life but aren't getting it, so porn takes up the slack --  or should I say, turgidity. Yep: Shag and the world shags with you. Masturbate and you masturbate alone.  Some Australian readers may remember the "Life, be in it!" campaign a couple of decades back. It showed the tragic Norm character forever watching sport on the TV, fantasising about what a hero he was. I reckon there should be an X-rated version of that: Now Norm sits in front of his PC tugging himself like crazy as sexual athletes break world rooting records before him. At the end, a line: "Sex life, begin it!" Maybe that would go a little way to alleviating the sadness of porn --  or decreasing the incidence of RSI, at least.   © 2002 Matt Hayden do not copy without permission