Behind Closed Doors: Russia Extends Its Porn Ban – But Will It Work?

The story that's been blowing up the internet the most this week has to do with Vladimir Putin, equestrian king of our times. This week, Donald Trump isn't complimenting him, and no one is Photoshopping his face into gay porn scenes. There hasn't been an uproar over banning arguably hilarious memes. No - this week, Russia banned citizens from accessing PornHub and YouPorn, an extension of its 136-site porn ban in 2015. Considering that many U.S. politicians are hoping to ban porn as well, it comes as no surprise - porn has served as a scapegoat for everything from infidelity to STDs over the years and the accusations are unlikely to end any time soon.

So what's Russia's particular motive for trying to make their citizens stop jerking it to Asa Akira, you ask? It's a little complicated. Russia's population hasn't been increasing like it used to; in fact, it has the highest abortion rate in the world. (A problem likely tied to sex ed, but what do I know?) They've enacted a considerable amount of legislation hoping to get people to go to pound town and pop 'em out again, and they want to do away with porn for fear that viewers favor masturbation to sticking it in each other's holes. Which, I guess, wouldn't fare well for creating more Putin fangirls and fanboys.

Wanting to ban porn is one thing, though, and actually banning it is another entirely. To make it happen, prosecutors had to force the court's hand by citing two previously forgotten anti-porn agreements - ones that were signed more than 100 years ago. 

.@roscomnadzor if we give you guys a Pornhub Premium account, will you un ban Pornhub in Russia?

— Pornhub ARIA (@Pornhub) September 14, 2016

Russia vs. Sex

The first was in 1910 - a document signed by the Tsarist Empire called the Agreement for the Repression of Obscene Publications. The second was at an international convention attended by the Soviet Union in 1923: the Convention for the Suppression of the Circulation of Obscene Publications. Soviet Russia had a distinct distain for sex as a whole, considering it to be a waste of time when citizens could have been building communism. (It seems they were vastly overestimating how long it takes the average male to ejaculate, but hey, time is money, as they say.) It goes without saying that porn was not allowed.

When you combine that kind of lingering sentiment with diminished birth rates, an absent conversation about sexuality, and extensive pro-family legislation (keep in mind that advertising abortion and promoting homosexuality is also banned), and you have a veritable Procreation Crisis. The government is scrambling to get people banging again - something they ironically used to discourage outside of heterosexual marriage. The crux of Russia's argument against porn is, of course, that without porn, citizens would be more likely to have real-life sex, which produces real-life babies. But is that argument logical? Will banning PornHub solve Russian family woes? 

In short, no.  

Sex vs. Porn

Here's the skinny on porn, sex drive, and your brain: There is research out there that ties porn consumption to a diminished appetite for actual sex, but it's conducted on those who watch it compulsively - i.e., those who have an addiction to it. Comprehensive research done on couples and individuals who watch a light to moderate amount yields vastly different results, and is rarely cited, because that is how the confirmation bias works. As it turns out, the graph showing the relationship between porn consumption and libido is an arc. Until consumption is compulsive, online sexual activity boosts sex drive, increases communication between partners, and creates more sustainable sexual satisfaction. Once the habit becomes addictive, sex drive take a drastic dip.

In short, the argument is Prohibition: Take away alcohol because a very small minority of consumers are alcoholics, even though it's not an issue for those who consume in moderation. (Which, by the way, is recommended for those who drink, smoke, and eat pizza, too.) But what does porn's pervasiveness mean for those who are addicted? Will removing the stimulus solve the issue and cause them to breed in abundance?

The answer is complicated. If you take alcohol away from alcoholics, they might stop drinking. They might circumvent the law and find their fix elsewhere anyway. Most likely, they'll turn to something else - drugs, cigarettes, jumping out of airplanes, binge eating, compulsive yodeling, you name it - to fill the void. The latter is the most likely, and that's because addiction is not a disease.

Addiction is a symptom. 

Porn vs. Rat Park

What do I mean by that? I'll start by introducing you to this video, which summarizes an experiment called Rat Park. It gives a great explanation of addiction and why it doesn't at all work the way we thought it does. The video even directly mentions pornography addiction: 

(No, really. Watch it.)

All of that isn't to say that that porn is never, ever a problem. Watching it obsessively or compulsively can rewire the way you respond to sexual stimuli and become aroused (or, as the current concern is, don't). But the argument becomes a never-ending loop - those who feel alone or disconnected, emotionally or physically, are infinitely more likely to become addicted to porn than those who are not. And with or without porn, those people are still the least likely to do the horizontal tango and start families in the process. As the video states, the opposite of addiction is not sobriety (or in this case, the removal of porn). The opposite of addiction is connection.

Russia's pro-family ban comes at the apex of the "Fight the New Drug" movement here in the States, which has similar motives: Getting more people to bond in real life, both emotionally and physically. That's hardly a reprehensible goal, but they are committing a logical fallacy in their approach. If the world wants to promote healthy sexuality and foster procreation, they shouldn't be wasting money, time, and other valuable resources scrubbing porn - the world's most pervasive industry - from the web. By doing so, they are fixating on a symptom the way you'd use Kleenex to sop up a runny nose. The real diseases here are disconnection, isolation, repression, and condemnation. They're things we can't take off the internet, and that's inconvenient, I know. 

So how do we fix them? How do we foster intimacy and authenticity and vulnerability? How do we make people feel safe and loved in their sexualities and relationships? How do we help people who have trouble connecting feel real, consensual skin-on-skin contact? The solutions are certainly as complicated as the issues themselves, but the truth is, eliminating porn won't bring people closer to their spouses or revamp the dwindling population.

There are things that can start chipping away at the iceberg, though. Like coffee with your neighbor or coworker. Putting your phone down every once in awhile. A heart-to-heart with friends you haven't reached out to in awhile. Disconnecting from work when you're not there. Monitoring your own mental health and happiness the way you'd check for moles or lumps or bumps. Learning to ask for help. Stopping sexual shaming. Destroying the idea that vulnerability is synonymous with being weak. Listening more. Taking away judgement toward those who seek therapy. Communication. Empathy.

It's not a problem we can fix overnight, but it's not an insurmountable feat either. And luckily, it's something we can chip away at while occasionally watching a blowbang late at night. 

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