When you hear the phrase “adult entertainment,” you probably know it means: pornography. In our cultural lexicon, the use of “adult” as an adjective almost always signifies sexual explicitness or erotica: “Adult” books, “adult” films, “adult” events, etc, ad nauseum.
How powerful is online pornography? Well, it just single handedly took down Playboy magazine.
As part of a redesign that will be unveiled next March, the print edition of Playboy will still feature women in provocative poses. But they will no longer be fully nude.
Its executives admit that Playboy has been overtaken by the changes it pioneered. “That battle has been fought and won,” said Scott Flanders, the company’s chief executive. “You’re now one click away from every sex act imaginable for free. And so it’s just passé at this juncture.”
We should let that sink in for a moment. Online pornography has become 1) so widespread, 2) so economic and 3) so explicit that the most powerful and most famous “adult” publication in the world has to completely change its business model. Let the reader understand: This is happening not because people find Playboy offensive or immoral, but because they find it boring.
There are people who deny that pornography is addictive, or that its consumption gradually causes elevated levels of craving. If that’s true, then there is simply no explanation for the utter triumph of hardcore, online pornography. There’s no explanation for why executives at Playboy are admitting they can’t compete with “every sex act imaginable.” In a world where porn is a self-contained diversion, this doesn’t happen. In a world where porn rewires the human brain to want more and more and get less and less, it happens.
Oh, and one more note, especially for parents. The smartphone your child is using? It has apps, and those apps–the same apps that all your child’s friends use every day–have what Playboy now aspires to.
The magazine will adopt a cleaner, more modern style, said Mr. Jones, who as chief content officer also oversees its website. There will still be a Playmate of the Month, but the pictures will be “PG-13” and less produced — more like the racier sections of Instagram.
Don’t want to give your 13 year old a free, lifetime subscription to Playboy? Skip the iPhone.
The culture of death is the live manifestation of a pornographic worldview.
In pornography, the human body is both worshiped and despised. It is worshiped as a source of pleasure and delight superior to all other pleasures, and then, when the pleasure is past, it is despised as a meaningless, identity-less mass that can be used and discarded at will.
This is precisely how the culture of death works. The youth, vitality and independence of the human body are holy characteristics, which bestow meaning and purpose on the person. When Ezekiel Emanuel says he hopes to die at 75, he’s worshiping the body. When the spirit leaves the temple, the people despair. When the body has crumbled, the meaning and transcendence are gone. All that is left is avoiding becoming a burden to others (read: the otherwise independent others).
Yet in the end the body is also despised. The advocates of assisted suicide insist that people (not just patients, mind you, but doctors as well) must be given the right to choose when their quality of life is just not worth it anymore. This is a despising of the body, an elevation of the human will (the right to choose) above the human person. In this mindset, it is right that people be able to decide the relative value of their lives, and act accordingly. To infringe on their will is an infinitely greater crime than to mutilate their flesh.
This logic is the essential reason Planned Parenthood exists. The narrative works like this: We must protect women from the excruciating effects of unwanted pregnancy in any and all cases (worship of the body), and to do so means we must redefine humanity itself so as to exclude the flesh whose very existence challenges the physical autonomy of the mother. That’s why, in this way of thinking, “My body, my choice” doesn’t apply to the infant. The infant doesn’t have a body, it is a body–a character-less, will-less, and if need be, purposeless weight of “tissue.” What separates the body of the unborn from the body of the woman and the body of the abortionist is will.
Pornography is the culture of death’s literature. For in pornography we see human bodies humiliated for the sake of the ones with the will to pleasure from it. The body is worshiped, yes (that’s why the actors and models look notably dissimilar to the men and women you work with), but it is also despised for the sake of will. Lost in pornography is any sense of the beautiful, or the precious, or the valuable. If a character in a pornographic film suddenly started monologuing about the imago Dei, audiences would laugh or fast forward, even if by their enthrallment they are indeed affirming that the human body is fearfully and wonderfully made.
To understand the culture of death, we must understand how pornography has hijacked our basic categories of what it means to be a person, what it means to have a body, and why we should care about either one. If death is a cult, consider pornography its liturgy.