Pornography, Capitalism, and Despair

In my last Op-ed, I tried to briefly lay out some thoughts on the excesses of capitalism, acknowledging the use of many and varying modifiers, such as runaway or crony, to suggest that perhaps capitalism might not be working for the majority of folks who live under it, as it once did. What I want to explore here is the ways in which, however speculative, capitalism, a sense of dread for the future, and pornography are all intertwined.

It was not too many generations ago that tales of slinking off into the woods to flip through the pages of some uncle’s stolen Playboy were about as close to pornography as many kids could get. And as they tell it– it was generally plenty. I don`t have to tell you, dear reader, that the youth of today`s overall experience with pornography is wildly different, and there is hardly anyone under the sun who thinks the instant access to such material is for the better.

Not to mention how much pornography itself has changed in terms of extremity, novelty, and at times, cruelty. One would be right to assume that the prevalence of the internet, along with the mainstreaming of pornographic culture at large, are surely great contributors to the overexposure of porn to a generation.

And while in matters of sexual activity, we could also say, there is nothing new under the sun– but there is something new– and that is, mass participation. It was not until relatively recently in the history of sex that filming yourself and instantly publishing your own pornography was even possible. Today, it takes only the technology that everyone already has. That is, a smartphone and an internet connection.

The ease of access to porn is well established, but the ease with which it can be made can turn a night of passionate lovemaking (or whatever), into a full-on career– with paid subscriptions, tip jars, and credit card processing all preloaded and at your service with the registration of an email address.

When it comes to pornography, we often choose to look at it through the lens of a kind of permanence. Once you`ve done it, you’re inside it, and it is likely a decision that follows many performers long after they have either retired or gotten their ya-ya`s out. This is perhaps obvious, but it is made too apparent by the number of prominent performers who wish to scrub their films from the net.

To take part in porn is our generation`s running off with the circus– a phrase that was once reserved for carnival performers, professional wrestlers, or perhaps touring in a rock n` roll band. As enticing as having sex for a living may be for some, it was often a sense of shame, one might gather, that would prevent most people from giving such a profession any serious consideration.

There is perhaps nothing that will get you banned from Thanksgiving Dinner quicker than being in porn, or at least, that used to be the case. That shame and fear still exist for many, but the sense of shame or probable regret has been seriously diminished since Pornhub and OnlyFans became household names– and that is a phenomenon whose origin is still begging for an explanation.

One contributing factor is, of course, capitalism. For one, if there is money to be made, people will simply do it. Capitalism has no morality, no borders, no ethics. The connection between OnlyFans, Pornhub, and money-making is a direct line. It is no secret that performers on paid subscription porn sites often operate many social media accounts, often with seductive but SFW content, used as a funnel to source and attract eyeballs to their paid channel. Much of what is shown is the glamorous high-life of luxury cars, condominiums, and arms full of shopping bags–many times fitting in a way to cheekily suggest that it was your dad who probably paid for it all. I digress.

But simple money-earning is not the only role capitalism plays. The logical conclusion to capitalism is to make everyone into their own entrepreneur. Through internet influencer culture, we have normalized and learned precisely how to monetize everything about our lives. We publish our skin care routines, our morning breakfast, and our walks on the beach.

We have made a product out of our very own daily lives, and one could have predicted it would not be long before we were monetizing our sexual escapades. The purest form of capitalism is not to sell a product, but to see yourself as a product. This generation has learned that in every possible way. That match was already lit; we just needed a platform that had it all ready to go.

If you are in your twenties in the year 2025, it is unlikely you remember a pre-9/11 world. You also likely have no knowledge of a simpler time before the internet and the explosion of pornographic material. You have seen the loss of faith in many institutions (including media, college, government) and are recognizing that many things in this world are infinitely more complex––such as the toxicity of politics, the prospect of owning a home, and the difficult financial decision (some even argue ethical––I don`t, by the way) of whether or not to have children.

Whatever encouraging statistics we may have to sketch out our lives in the future, they likely don`t and won`t persuade a generation into a shared optimism about our shared future. The belief in a good life in the future is essential in deterring us away from our most base desires, our most impulsive wants and needs.

I would also argue that the concept of hard work, in many ways, has also diminished. Because we have seen too often the many examples that betray this notion–it is not hard work that pays off, but it is cheating, gaming the system, and not really caring who knows about it that so often does.

In this way, one could easily recognize that it is the self-pornographers who may be convinced that they indeed have it all. That getting paid to have fun is the best win-win, the best of all worlds. And because of porn and its permanent stamp on a performer, there is little reason to turn back; only to dive in further and further until the world cannot help but turn your latest escapade into actual current world news.

When the cultural landscape becomes so rotten, and the ship that carries it is sinking, expect the rats to flee– to perhaps have it all, while endlessly pursuing only their very own pleasure, and milking every dollar from it. For those who are experiencing the limelight, the wealth, and the pleasure of this enterprise, and who also serve as a constant reminder of the possibility of success, there is little to argue. If one is convinced society has gone to ruin, you can expect them to get their kicks before the whole shit house goes up in flames. I find it regrettable that in some sense, I get it. In some sense, it is the easiest thing today to understand.

Judson Stacy Vereen
Judson Stacy Vereen is an American artist and the author of 62 Poems from Judson Vereen, and Like A Bird Knows To Sing. He is also the author of the Dispatches from Bohemian Splendor newsletter. His website is Judsonvereen.com

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author's own.