Feminists' Perspectives on Pornography

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Here are some excerpts from my 'position' as found on the site's
background material. I offer this as a way to articulate some of
the cross currents underlying the feminists' perspectives on the
issue of pornography...

******
...Like a modern day casuistical exercise, the current issue of
pornography reveals an unforeseen confluence of societal and
technological change. "Cases" and situations emerge that seem to
alter the paradigms that guided discussions of sexually explicit
material in the recent past. Women own and publish magazines like
"On Our Backs" and produce films like "Erotique" while amateur
videos, Polaroid exchanges, on-line chat rooms, and pro-sex World
Wide Web-sites proliferate outside the 'sex industry.' In this
mix of past, present and future, proponents and  antagonists seem
to fall through simple categories that might  once have contained
them. MacKinnon aligns with Jesse Helms; Califia with Screw
magazine's Al Goldstein.

For pragmatists like John Dewey, this eruption of the
problematical is symptomatic of dynamic change and forms the very
area where moral conversations come into play. For
neo-pragmatists like Richard Rorty, these conversations contain
the possibility of re-describing our very sense of self and moral
duty. We live, as the Chinese say, in 'interesting' times.

Rorty's essay, "Feminism and Pragmatism," credits MacKinnon with
the skill and imagination necessary to change the framework of a
conversation such that the very terms of exchange become altered.
"So she sees feminists as needing to alter the data of moral
theory rather than needing to formulate principles which fit
pre-existent data better. Feminists are trying to get people to
feel indifference or satisfaction where they once recoiled, and
revulsion and rage where they once felt indifference or
resignation." (p. 3) If successful, the redescription of
pornography as abuse and discrimination allow one to feel
comfortable with censorship and prohibition.

But Rorty cautions MacKinnon about wanting both to create new
space for conversation while at the same time filling that space
with 're-descriptions' that become 'true descriptions' --
allowing not for pragmatic experimentation, but dogmatic
assertion. Many feminists, Rorty notes, "intermingle pragmatic
and realist rhetoric" (p. 5). And in this mix of future vision
and present perception, they run the risk of censoring those who
disagree with them.

Pat Califia writes "Of opponents to her bill who called
themselves feminists...MacKinnon later said, 'Someone should
explain to me how one can be a feminist and be
pro-pornography...they're mutually exclusive." (p. 126) In her
book, A Woman's Right to Pornography, Wendy McElroy questions
those who wish to define away their opponents: "The growing
intolerance within feminism is not a sign of intellectual
confidence, which invites open discussion. It is a sign of
dogmatic hostility toward anyone who disagrees." (p. 116)

At what point does Rortyan 'redescription' turn into Orwellian
NewSpeak?

Greetings all. I've been thinking about pornography as a feminist for
about a decade now. My views about feminism and pornography have
changed considerably over that time, and while I'm not currently in
possession of the right view about either (what a surprise!) there are
some things I guess I'm pretty much committed to now. So let me throw
some of them out as a conversation starter. Along the way I'll try to
make connections both to some of the background material for this
forum (MacKinnon and Califia, as well as Robert Cavalier's piece) and
to some of the conversation in the meta-ethics conference between Ross
Poole, Fred D'Agostino and Charles Ess.

1. "Can one be a feminist and like pornography?"

On some understandings of what pornography is, the answer is pretty
clearly no. Robert quotes Califia quoting Mackinnon, who says,
"Someone should explain to me how one can be a feminist and be
pro-pornography . . . they're mutually exclusive." According to
MacKinnon and Dworkin, pornography *is* the sexually explicit
subordination of women. And if being a feminist means being opposed to
the subordination of women, being a feminist obviously precludes being
pro-pornography. But are MacKinnon and Dworkin right about
pornography?

I don't know to what extent Robert is disposed to a Rortyean
pragmatism, but he helpfully invokes a Rortyean suggestion to the
effect that what feminists like MacKinnon and Dworkin have done is
*redescribe* pornography in such a way as to render it obviosuly
problematic and for that reason an easier target for various legal
action that we already take to be justified. If we think of
pornography as sexually explicit subordination of women, then it
appears quite natural to argue that pornography should be actionable
under existing anti-discrimination law. I don't think that MacKinnon
and Dworkin take themselves to be merely redescribing pornography; I
think they intend to be conveying truths about what pornography really
is. So Rorty's suspicion, well articulated by Robert that MacKinnon
and Dworkin "create new space for conversation while at the same time
filling that space with "essential truths"" is justified. (At least)
two worries emerge. First, the "truths" about pornography according to
MacKinnon and Dworkin don't strike other people (e.g., McElroy,
Tisdale) as truths. Second, assertions of the form "this is how things
really are" tend to be conversation stoppers. McElroy and to some
extent Strossen complain that the M/D position represents a kind of
dangerous dogmatism about pornography.

I believe that the M/D view of pornography is often poorly understood
and badly misrepresented. In fact, in my opinion, Strossen almost
wilfully misunderstands it. This is not to say that the view is
plausible, much less that it is true. But one cannot simply dismiss it
as easily as some do. For example, Califia complains that it
represents a return to a "Victorian image" of women's sexuality, one
that has it that "women do not enjoy pornography, casual sex, genital
sex, or sex outside the context of romantic relationship." I don't
know of anywhere where either M or D have espoused such beliefs. And
their analysis of pornography does not require that they are committed
to these beliefs either. Indeed, if M and D are right about
pornography constructing women's sexual desires, they would predict
that women *would* enjoy pornography and these other things. M and D
are not asking whether women have these desires, but they asking us to
think about where these desires come from and whether they are good
desires to have. (More on good and bad desires later, if anyone's
interested.)

So, is the M/D view about pornography true? One needs to do a lot of
philosophical work - work that neither M nor D do - to render the
claim that pornography literally silences and subordinates women
plausible. Recall, M and D are not speaking metaphorically. I think
the best attempt at this work is found in Rae Langton's, "Speech Acts
and Unspeakable Acts" and Jennifer Hornsby's "Speech Acts and
Pornography" (both reprinted in my anthology *The Problem of
Pornography*). I'm happy to talk about this stuff, but for now just
want to insist that one does need to do the work. It is no good to
simply say that many women like pornography, that sex is good, or to
claim that M and D cannot be right because if they were, we might
actually have to restrict pornography. That a view, if right, would
have bad practical consequences doesn't make the view false.

Let me just say something about the dogmatism claim, especially since
the very idea of open dialogue and conversation is guiding our efforts
in this forum. There is, no doubt, a deep irony attached to MacKinnon
in particular advancing (putative) substantive truths about what
pornography is. In *Feminism Unmodified* she writes: "Having power
means, among other things, that when someone says, "This is how it
is," it is taken as being that way (164)." And a common theme in her
work is the way in which power silences. The entire discussion about
pornography, then, implicates a series of deep questions about
credibility, knowledge and power. I grant that dogmatism is a bad
thing. But I am very reluctant to refuse to make bold assertions about
how things strike me, especially when I have thought about them for
while and have some arguments to back up my claims. However, perhaps
the admonition (that I detect in Robert's remarks, Rorty's suspicions,
and McElroy's complaint), is not so much to give up making assertions
about what pornography is, but rather to present an analysis of
pornography that takes the following form: Try to think about
pornography like this, and now like this. Now think about what sound
public policy would like from each of these perspectives. I have some
sympathy with this approach. In this way I think I align myself with
some of Ross Poole's remarks about ethics in general. (I favor
something like a McDowellian picture of moral judgment and moral
motivation, minus the teleology and minus the Wittgensteinianism.) We
test our view of things, in light of grasping - and I do mean
understanding - others' views of things. At least with respect to
social and political matters, there probably isn't an impartial
perspective from which we can test the match between our beliefs and
the world. We can only seek plausibility and coherence intra- and
inter-personally.

Bringing this altogether to answer the question I began with: Our
interests, our pretheoretic moral commitments, and our explicit
political commitments direct our attention to particular features of
our social and cultural landscapes. The pragmatists were just right
about that. So the world will, in some very real sense, "look
different" to different people. Now, a big question: Does being a
feminist entail that one see the world in a particular way, such that
pornography will strike one as obviously problematic? No. But
feminists on all sides of this discussion must be willing to take each
other seriously. And that means not dismissing views like M and D's
outright as a return to puritanism or as the thin of the wedge of
repressive speech laws. About this, let me come clean. I am what
MacKinnon calls somewhere a "free speech fetishist"; that is, I take
the First Amendment very seriously indeed. But I know that I can't
simply say, "Oh my, M and D's view leads to censorship so obviously it
must be incorrect."

>Rorty's essay, "Feminism and Pragmatism," credits MacKinnon with the
>skill and imagination necessary to change the framework of a
>conversation such that the very terms of exchange become altered. "So
>she sees feminists as needing to alter the data of moral theory rather
>than needing to formulate principles which fit pre-existent data better.

I think MacKinnon both redefines pornography and reprioritizes
feminst values. MacKinnon is focused on women's subordination,
pain, and harm, and she elevates the prevention of harm related
to sexually explicit material above all others. She sets aside
many other harms, or considers them only as they relate to
pornography as she defines it. I think it is this elevation of
harm caused by pornography (no matter how easy or hard the
links are to establish) over all other harms that leads
MacKinnon to her policy conclusions.

Without this new prioritization, one can read MacKinnon's
critiques of pornography and even agree with her points about
harm without following her to her conclusions. When it comes to
making policy, someone with a range of feminist values in a
different configuration would weigh harm MacKinnon claims
results from pornography against other harms -- for example,
the harm caused by the represson of women's sexual freedom or
the exclusion of women from opportunities for sexual
expression, or the harm caused by cultural beauty myths. One's
policy conclusions would ultimately depend on one's
prioritization of these and other feminist values, whether one
buys MacKinnon's critiques or not.

One positive aspect of MacKinnon's redefinition of pornography
is the validation it gives to some women's experiences on an
individual level;  understanding MacKinnon's critiques of
pornography can be a launching ground for women to learn to
break down sexual messages and rebuild our own in ways that we
find self-supporting. The problem is that MacKinnon's
prioritization of feminist values seems to discount the point
that what subordinates one woman may liberate another.
MacKinnon elevates the elimination of subordination without
regard to the potential for liberation. This focus loses sight
of the discussion of women's sexualities and how to foster
their expression.


A case in point is the events that occured at Carnegie Mellon
in the fall of 1994. The administration announced a policy that
would eliminate university access to USENET newsgroups dealing
with sexual issues. This included both binaries boards that
carry sexually explicit images, and text boards that carry all
kinds of discussions from S&M to sexual health to abstinence.

This broad action was taken even though the policy stated that

"The only criterion that will be used to withdraw a bulletin
board is that the purpose for which it was established or its
primary use makes mounting it illegal."

The Vice Provost for Education, Erwin Steinberg, intimated that
the University's carrying such material was tantamount to
sexual harassment:

"If posting posters or calendars of scantily clad women is
considered "sexual harassment" or creating a "chilly climate,"
how will a picture of a bound woman being raped by a ski pole
be considered?"


Having not seen the image, one must question how Steinberg knew
this was an image of "rape", and why he sees the ski pole as
the primary agent (ski poles don't rape people, people rape
people). One must wonder whether Steinberg is aware of how one
finds, downloads, and decrypts binary images on the Internet,
if he assumes placing an image in a clearly labeled newsgroup
is equivalent to posting a physical picture in a workspace.

Steinberg invited Frederick Schauer, one of the authors of the
Meese Commission's report, to speak at CMU. Schauer suggested
that women are underrepresented on the Internet because of the
hostile environment created by pornography available there. He
believed that CMU's elimination of certain newsgroups would
protect CMU women and encourage us to participate online.


Suddenly, CMU had raised concerns about women's participation
and protection above concerns about academic freedom or its
reputation for being on the cutting edge of Internet
technology. CMU had elevated concerns about protecting women
above concerns expressed by women themselves, despite a very
vocal group of pro-sex feminists known as the Clitoral Hoods
who publicly demanded that access to sexual material be
restored. Unlike MacKinnon, who is consistent in placing
women's harm on the top of her list, CMU had not taken much
trouble to meet women's needs or hear their concerns before;
this sudden interest in women's protection seemed out of place
given past refusals to put lighting in a dark area where a rape
allegedly ocurred, or to  report fraternity date rapes in crime
bulletins, because "the perpetrators do not pose a threat to
the community".


Despite this rhetoric about women, CMU's underlying concern was
one of liability. This is due to attempts to regulate the
Internet by classifying it into one of the four traditional
media types: broadcasting, publishing, distributing, or common
carriage. If CMU were found to be a broadcaster, publisher or a
distributor, it could be found liable for carrying materials in
violation of PA's obscenity law or federal child pornography
laws. But web services and newsgroups can fit equally well, and
equally badly, into all four media types. Therefore, the
attempts to classify online services have created threats to
both protected speech, as we saw in the case of CMU's newsgroup
policy, and to minimal responsible controls in other cases.

I'd also like to comment on Rob's statement:
>pornography reveals an unforeseen confluence of societal and
>technological change. "Cases" and situations emerge that seem to  alter
>the paradigms that guided discussions of sexually explicit  material in
>the recent past. Women own and publish magazines like  "On Our Backs"
>and produce films like "Erotique" while amateur  videos, Polaroid
>exchanges, on-line chat rooms, and pro-sex World  Wide Web-sites
>proliferate outside the 'sex industry.'

I believe in the potential for new electronic media to open up
opportunities for women's sexual expression. The Internet in
particular gives women opportunity to address sexual topics
from a place of relative safety. It frees women from local
biases that sexualize and stigmatize women who are sexually
open, and allows for anonymity where desirable. Because the
Internet is expandable, it allows for a wide range of sexual
expression and critiques of sexual expression from multiple
perspectives. I believe it is a step toward creating space for
the multi-positionality Lisa mentioned (though of course the
problem of access is a major barrier, among others), taking us
away from the "On Our Backs" vs. "Off Our Backs" dichotomy
among feminists.

For this potential to be realized, we need to move away from
the traditional policy-making according to media type. As Jean
Camp and I have proposed elsewhere, a more appropriate approach
is to consider online services as a series of spaces that
emulate phyiscal spaces. In this way, it is possible to create
open spaces for all kinds of political and sexual expression,
private spaces that operate as our own town squares, bedrooms,
classrooms, workspaces, and so on, each with their own
agreed-upon and well-understood protocols for communication.
Though this proposal does not address ongoing debates in the
real world about speech, it does encourage particpants in
various cyberspaces to articulate the nature of the spaces they
inhabit and the expectations for that space. It recognizes the
multiplicity of spaces and purposes online and the need for
both open forums and safe havens to promote discussion and
expression.

I have a "list" of questions, answers, and concerns that respond to
both Sue and Donna's points so far.  So I'll start at the top and work
my way down, hopefully to a coherent working position. Most of my
'questions' respond to problems of definition.

1)  Sue, could you please explain at greater length what sort of
philosophical work you have in mind when you write the following:

So, is the M/D view about pornography true? One needs to do a lot of
philosophical work - work that neither M nor D do - to render the
claim that pornography literally silences and subordinates women
plausible. Recall, M and D are not speaking metaphorically. I think
the best attempt at this work is found in Rae Langton's, "Speech Acts
and Unspeakable Acts" and Jennifer Hornsby's "Speech Acts and
Pornography" (both reprinted in my anthology *The Problem of
Pornography*). I'm happy to talk about this stuff, but for now just
want to insist that one does need to do the work.

I tend to understand pornography as culturally contingent and
definitions of it as emerging from specific historical and cultural
formations. Philosophical work seems to me to take a different
approach. Can you spell out what kind of philosophical work you're
calling for and where it can go?

2)  Sue begins her answer to the question, 'can one be a feminist and
like pornography?' by saying "On some definitions of what pornography
is, the answer is clearly no." With the MacKinnon/Dworkin definition
of pornography, there is a contradiction: pornography is oppressive to
women, and the aim of feminism is to work against the oppression of
women. I want to point out that the issue doesn't have to be
constructed  in the absolute terms that MacKinnon and Dworkin's
analyses require. I'd like to bring up the issue of feminist
priorities. The argument so far has raised the question of whether
Califia can be a feminist. Consider the following:

[L]et me explain why I still call myself a feminist. I believe that
the society in which I live is a patriarchy with power concentrated in
the hands of men, and that this patriarchy actively prevents women
from becoming complete and independent human beings. Women are
oppressed by being denied access to economic resources, political
power, and control over their own reproduction. This oppression is
managed by several institutions, chiefly the family, religion, and the
state. An essential part of the oppression of women is control over
sexual ideology, mythology, and behavior. (Pat Califia, Public Sex
166)

Califia's understanding of feminism -- with its structural conception of
patriarchy -- does not place pornography at the center of women's
oppression. M/D place it at the center. According to Califia, we can
still enjoy porn as feminists, inasmuch as feminist can enjoy many
things under patriarchy (e.g., loving women, raising children, having
sex).

Some pornography may be a symptom of the oppressive patriarchal system
in which we live. In this view, fighting what may be a symptom of the
state, familial, and religious oppression (e.g., pornography) might
misdirect our attention. Indeed, fighting the symptom has resulted in
the fragmentation of the feminist community. The central importance
that M/D place on porn, by moving it from a symptomatic position to a
position wherein porn can act to degrade women, is not the only viable
feminist position to have. Unionizing women who work in the sex
industry, rather than shutting down that avenue for employment, may be
a more significant way to fight oppression.

M&D have laid out a definition of pornography which doesn't just
define pornography; it also stipulates what the priorities of the
feminist community ought to be. The result is that women like Pat
Califia, who work with the sex industry in a way that's consistent
with working against the oppression of women would be, by M&D's
definitional fiat, excluded from the feminist community.

3) On a related note, I'd like to return to Sue's description of the
relationship between pornography and First Amendment rights. She
writes:

It is no good to simply say that many women like pornography, that sex
is good, or to claim that M and D cannot be right because if they
were, we might actually have to restrict pornography. That a view, if
right, would have bad practical consequences doesn't make the view
false.

This proposition says that accepting M&D's definition might have
undesirable consequences for First Amendment rights, but that such
consequences imply nothing about the status of M&D's claims about the
oppressiveness of pornography. However, if we're thinking about
censoring pornography as feminists because it oppresses women, then we
should think about whether that censorship will oppress women even
more. As Donna points out, the censorship of pornography at CMU ended
up censoring women.

And here, it's worthwhile to return to Califia. The state,
particularly the Canadian government, has censored Califia's work.
Pornography has not silenced her; the state has. And part of the
reason she poses a threat is because she creates a sexualized female
subjectivity in her work. I suggest that we ought to take the
formation of this subjectivity seriously, whether or not we like what
emerges. Here I think I reiterate what Donna said about the need to
form both open, public spaces and safe private havens wherein women
can begin the work of articulating a sexuality that in the past has
been largely articulated for us.

By censoring pornography, we can silence the articulation of a female
sexuality in all its forms. This sort of consequence should inform the
stand we take on M&D's propositions.

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