The notion of pornography being officially classified as a public health crisis in Arizona is gaining traction, should State House Representative Michelle Udall’s legislative efforts succeed.
The passage of her proposed resolution may not significantly alter the daily lives of most residents. However, it provokes a crucial question: is our inclination towards viewing explicit content truly a substantial societal concern?
Udall’s perspective positions the issue of pornography as comparable in gravity to the historical impact of the tobacco industry.
“Analogous to the tobacco industry, the pornography industry has engendered a public health crisis,” Udall asserted to legislators in advocacy for House Concurrent Resolution 2009.
“This material is accessed ubiquitously, including by minors.”
She contends that this widespread access is contributing to a surge in adverse health outcomes, encompassing diminished self-worth, disordered eating patterns, and an escalation in problematic sexual behaviors, alongside mental health challenges and detrimental sexual conduct.
Should Udall’s initiative be enacted, Arizona would not be charting a solitary course. Utah implemented comparable legislation in 2016. Presently, eleven U.S. states formally recognize a similar stance. While this resonates with many Republican viewpoints, the proposal is not without its detractors.
“I am unconvinced that the scientific evidence adequately substantiates these assertions,” commented Democratic House Representative Kelli Butler.
Distinguishing factual evidence from speculative claims on this subject presents a considerable challenge.
It is undeniable that the proliferation of digital media has dramatically increased accessibility to content that was once more rigorously controlled. While precise pre-digital era statistics are elusive, available data suggests a substantial increase, estimated between 150 to 200 percent, since the 1970s.
For illustrative purposes, a survey conducted in 2014 indicated that 46 percent of American men and 16 percent of women, aged 18 to 39, had knowingly accessed pornography within a given week (or at least, admitted to doing so).
Irrespective of whether these figures are deemed indicative of pervasive use, the engagement with explicit sexual media appears to be a common practice, perhaps even a growing pastime.
Regarding Udall’s concern about access by minors, a survey conducted by Newsbeat several years prior indicated that approximately half of individuals aged 15 to 17 had accessed pornography via a smartphone or tablet.
Assuming that pornography consumption is indeed as widespread as Udall suggests, are there tangible risks that society ought to address with seriousness?
It is widely acknowledged that pornography is heavily burdened by social stigma. A growing body of research indicates that what many perceive as pornographic addiction may be more reflective of their internal feelings of guilt and shame rather than genuinely excessive consumption.
Udall’s resolution directly references specific health conditions, including eating disorders and diminished self-esteem.
A study released last year, involving nearly 3,000 males, did observe a correlation between increased pornography consumption and greater body image dissatisfaction, albeit to a modest degree. Furthermore, emerging research suggests that the viewing habits of males in heterosexual relationships might contribute to eating disorders in their female partners.
Concerning the proliferation of detrimental sexual behavior, Udall’s assertion also appears plausible on initial examination. Jennifer Johnson, a sociologist at Virginia Commonwealth University, published findings in 2015 on the nexus between pornography and aggression, stating:
“While research is unable to demonstrate causality, a feat no social science endeavor can achieve, pornography exhibits a strong correlation with factors widely recognized as contributing to sexual violence. These include the framing of masculinity through aggression, hostile attitudes toward women, and the perpetuation of gender inequality.”
Based on such conclusions, Udall’s claim that pornography possesses the potential to inflict harm is justifiable, notwithstanding the ongoing debate surrounding direct causality.
Adopting a charitable interpretation, one could even propose that the problematic engagement with pornography warrants the attention of state health officials, akin to their oversight of activities like gambling or alcohol consumption.
However, “crisis” denotes a significant level of urgency and necessitates the prioritization of resources. While access to pornography has dramatically increased, its potentially detrimental effects do not seem to have escalated proportionally, making calls for emergency measures difficult to fully substantiate.
Let us, for the sake of argument, consider the implementation of scientifically validated strategies to proactively mitigate the potential adverse societal impacts of pornography consumption. What might such measures entail?
Censorship can be definitively excluded from consideration. Despite numerous U.S. states having legislation mandating the filtering of online content within educational institutions, constitutional protections for freedom of speech have presented substantial obstacles to governmental control over the production and dissemination of pornographic materials.
Both censorship and abstinence have historically proven ineffective in regulating human sexual impulses, suggesting their ability to curb pornography consumption would likely be similarly limited.
Fostering open dialogues concerning gender roles, sexuality, power dynamics, and consent within educational curricula is a recognized strategy demonstrating positive outcomes in reducing intimate partner violence and enhancing sexual well-being.
Regrettably, Arizona’s current standing in comprehensive sex education ranks among the bottom three nationally. This leaves a considerable number of young individuals in the state to acquire knowledge about sexual health and intimacy through informal channels, such as content suggested by platforms like Pornhub.
Upcoming legislative proposals represent a progressive step, shifting sex education from an “opt-in” to an “opt-out” model for students. This approach aims to facilitate a more structured introduction to sexual health for adolescents, including practical demonstrations of condom usage as a precursor to understanding intercourse.
However, education constitutes only one component of a comprehensive solution. If our objective is to genuinely address the challenges associated with pornography use, it would be prudent to concurrently acknowledge and manage the inherent health and safety risks present in its production.
Udall is not the inaugural political figure to raise concerns regarding American society’s fixation on explicit visual content, and with the emergence of new anti-porn advocacy groups across the United States, it is improbable that she will be the last.
Nevertheless, the parallels drawn between the historical obfuscation surrounding the tobacco industry and contemporary concerns about misinformation disseminated by the “Big Porn” industry are arguably misdirected. The scientific community has already amassed substantial knowledge regarding strategies for enhancing societal sexual safety.
This is, of course, contingent upon the genuine commitment of politicians like Udall to pursue such objectives.
Mike McRae has dedicated over a decade to crafting science news articles and developing educational materials. He is the author of two books: Unwell: What makes a disease a disease? and Tribal Science: Brains, Beliefs, and Bad Ideas.
