The Guardian Looks at Popularity of 'Social Porn'

CYBERSPACE—In a series of articles on Generation Y Takeover, the Guardian, which is just getting around to the subject of sex, today has a piece on the alleged rise of what they call "social porn," which writer Frances Parraudin defines as "online pornography websites [that] are increasingly starting to behave like social networks—encouraging users to share, like, rate, comment, curate and even create content." Oh, she must mean tube sites—massive playgrounds filled with regular folk presumably doing exactly that—sharing, liking, rating, commenting on, curating and even creating porn. But nope; tube sites like Pornhub and YouPorn aren't even on Parraudin's social radar. Instead, she writes, "From Fuckbook (a porn version of Facebook) to Pornostagram (a porn version of Instagram), to PornTube (a porn version of YouTube), online pornography websites are increasingly starting to behave like social networks." Built on similar (or the same) platforms as their more modest cousins, these examples are of course not just behaving like social networks—they are social networks, but no one should be lulled into thinking that some of the original social networks that may have inspired these kissing cousins are not themselves still happy repositories of reams of shared porn. Because they are. For instance, people will talk all day about Vine's crackdown on porn while failing to mention that parent Twitter still has tons of the old in-out on it. And Instagram? Well, in many ways, it's still a porn star's best friend, with envious traffic generation compared with the other emerging 'grams. There is no assurance the status quo will remain in place, however. Twitter and Instagram could one day go the way of Vine, making alternatives a necessity rather than a choice. As the Guardian also notes, though, the proclivity of humans to socialize sex is nothing new, and in many ways the visual intensity that is brought to bear by the new technologies contained in the social networking sites is a return to normal. "Sharif Mowlabocus," writes Parraudin, "a senior lecturer in media studies at the University of Sussex, argues that the idea of pornography as an intensely antisocial activity is actually relatively new. 'With the exception of certain times in history, pornography has actually always had a social dimension,' he says. He points to the blue records of the 1920s and 30s—audio recordings of people having sex—which were often listened to in groups, and to the stag movies of the 1940s, which, again, were watched alongside other people in cinemas (not to mention "smokers"—gatherings of adult males at fraternal organizations like Elks—and college fraternities). 'It was covert, but it was also social,' he says." The advent of the VCR, home theater and now personal devices have worked to change the perception of porn from a shared activity to a solo one, effectively taking "porn off the street,' according to Mowlabocus, who adds that as people share more, the conversations also tends to evolve. "I don't think that it's surprising that in some of these more social spaces—where porn is consumed, uploaded, distributed, commented on—we are beginning to see discussions about the alternative politics of pornography," he said. One thing that is not yet changing, however, is the tendency for porn sharers to want to remain anonymous despite their enthusiastic embrace of porn and rejection of the shame that is traditionally associated with such embrace. One would think that along with the embrace would come a determination to be oneself. We're not quite there yet, and as the lecturer notes, "It'll be interesting to see if those pornography networks seep out and connections start to be made with your personal email address." One thing that may have to happen before people associate their legal names with their porn stash is making sure they are not breaking any laws in the sharing of porn that they may have just "borrowed" from some other site because they liked it and wanted to share. But even if they are uploading their own homemade porn, if it does not come equipped with 2257 documentation, as well as the labeling and records keeper the law demands, they are breaking the law in the United States by committing a possible felony that carries up to five years in jail. Most people not already in the industry are completely ignorant of 2257, however, just as many people in the business, including the creators of some of these new platforms, look the other way, especially when it comes to informing uploaders of their legal responsibilities. The social networks take great pains to indemnify themselves from legal liability for not having the required 2257 documentation (or copyright) by asserting DMCA safe harbor status, which is their right to do; but it might take drilling down in the terms and conditions for consumers to realize that while the site may have safe harbor, they, as the uploaders and presumed copyright holders of the sexually explicit content, most certainly do not. But you will not find one word of that in the Guardian article, which is a little odd considering how seriously the Brits seem to take the propagation of sexual images of underage people, and also how alarmist they seem to get about the very proliferation of porn, which these social networks enable in the most unorganized, uncategorized and anonymous ways possible. And of course, the applicability of 2257 record keeping and labeling for materials on the internet that can be seen in the U.S., but were not necessarily produced there, remains a thorny legal issue. At the end of the day, however, if the democratization of porn really is at hand, considering the likelihood that the majority of porn uploaders/sharers have neither the legally required copyright or 2257 documentation, it's probably a good thing that, as the article concludes, a bridge between one's Facebook friends and their favorite porn probably isn't happening anytime soon. Image: Generation Y social porn time!